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Chapter Four of a Furry Speculative Fiction Novel that takes place in a hypothetical universe where Germany won World War One. The continued Belgrade insurgency has pushed Konard and William farther and farther apart ...

_**Ein Wolf in der Falz

Chapter IV - A Wolf in the Fold**_

_Ra?a, Serbia

January 17th, 1930_

Flakes of bitter white swirled about the endless night. It stung Konrad's chapped muzzle lips, his breath frosting on their edges with each labored exhale. The black wolf trudged on through the drifts despite the deep bite in his lungs, his jackboots crunching though the snow's thin upper crust. A sudden gust whistled through the rows of haphazardly parked kampfwagens.

He pulled the edges of his ragged coat closer to himself on instinct, but it did little to keep the brutal Balkan winter at bay. Underneath his ratty coat, the icy gale sliced through his thin officer's uniform. Flecks of ice stuck to his gloves except near the paw tips where Konrad had worn holes into the thick leather. The flesh and fur of his paws felt numb and stiff. Despite the many years on the Serbian front, the sterreichs Bundesheer had yet to fully commit basic resources to their campaign.

While the political situation for the former Triple Crown of Germany-Austria-Hungry had stabilized somewhat, the Serbian problem had grown more tenuous. Rebel strikes in and around occupied Belgrade had forced Konrad's kampfwagen division to push deeper into Serbia to quell the unrest, straining diplomatic tensions between the Deutscher Staatsbund and the Soviet Union even further.

Oberfeldwebel Konrad Wagner could have cared less what went on between diplomats. For the past seven years he had kept the Serbian dogs from nipping at his troops with antiquated hunting rifles from behind trees and abandoned farmhouses. He had kept those under his charge alive while the rest of the world sneered on. While other countries snubbed his efforts to keep the peace in this historically turbulent area, he fought on. For his country. For his mate.

William.

He had not seen the coyote in almost six months. In his last letter, the American borne engineer had gushed to him about all the recent innovations he had helped bring to the front based on Konrad's feedback of their experimental kampfwagens: The switch to diesel engines from gasoline. Slanted armor, used to help deflect bullets and armor piercing rounds. Addition of a swivel turret in place of a fixed one. Improvements in the mechanical linkage of their treads. Camouflaged paint patterns to match the forests around them.

Still, Konrad wondered who fought harder than who to keep each other safe.

The black wolf stopped next to a small huddle of his men, noticing their work on one of their vehicles despite the frigid Balkan cold. One of his heer's had stenciled in the rune of Tyr next to the driver's hatch while the others had watched on in earnest.

"Was ist das oder?" Konard pushed though his men, his claws tapping next to the rune. Their eyes skirted about, but never caught their platoon leader's gaze. The wolf snorted. "Putzt das scheiss von meinem wagen auf! Den nachsten Soldat dass ich mit einen Farbpinsel finde, wird auf gerichtskosten gebracht werden! Verstehe?"

His men nodded, shamed that they had been caught giving in to quasi-superstitious rhetoric. They knew their commander had no tolerance for such occultism. But they were desperate; desperate to believe their way was just, their blood pure. Already, many of those under his command had latched onto the idea that they were direct descendants of Aryans from Ultima Thule. Konrad turned away and left in disgust. Pure blooded or not, his men were weak to believe in anything other than themselves.

He continued his way to the small farmhouse at the crest of the hill, crusty snowflakes pelting the black fur of his frostbitten ears. Konrad paused at its top, looking out to the desolate landscape below. The air around him screamed, scouring the blasted earth with shards of ice. Pinpricks of light from other farms poked through the blinding snow. The darkness and ice had swallowed everything else. For a moment, he wondered if Wotan the Wanderer had left for spring, and in his absence, the Frost Giants had returned.

Konrad broke the moment of forlorn vigil to step inside the farm house. While there was no fire inside its small pot bellied iron stove, the light of a single lantern bathed his commanding officer, Hauptmann Gottschalk, in an eerie yellow glow. One of his staff members, an Elk Hound by the name of Putzkammer, sat beside him near a blood stained and butcher knife nicked table.

A few dusty lithographs lined the bare wooden walls, depicting the small Serbian family that owned this place. Where his division had displaced them to was a question best left unasked. The rest of the furniture scattered around them could be called rustic at best. Some snow blew in across the threshold before Konrad closed the door behind himself. He took off his hat and saluted his commanding officer, reporting in.

"Guten Abend, Herr Wagner," Gottschalk barked, sipping some brandy from a tin to warm himself. He gestured to the chair at the other side of the table. "Bitte, sitzen sie sich."

The black wolf fell at ease before taking off his jacket and draping it along the back of an empty seat next to the table. He sat down and had trouble pulling the gloves off his paws. After Konrad dropped the ice crusted gloves onto the table with a soft crunch he blew into his cupped paws, trying to thaw them. At least the barren room offered shelter from the constant wind.

"Sie wolte mich ansehen Herr Hauptmann?" The wolf asked. Konrad's numb ears flickered toward the two canids sitting across from him. The elk hound's inquisitive stare never seemed to leave the wolf.

"Ja, Wagner, Putzkammer hat ein paar fragen für sie." Gottschalk answered. The Shepard dog turned to the Elk hound, whose tail seemed to curl even more along his back as his black muzzle lips tightened. Konrad was somewhat taken back the Putzhammer addressed him in English.

"Konrad Wagner. Born in 1900 near Cuxhaven, Germany. Posted aboard the British Axillary Cruiser Lusitania at age fifteen." The elk hound spoke perfect English through his heavy Norwegian accent. "How is it again that you managed to infiltrate the Austrian Army after working for the British Navy for so long? Do you know what we do to spies?"

Konrad's claws dug deep into the dark dried crimson of the dinner table, not from fear, but outrage.

"How dare you accuse me of ...!" A few drops of spittle flew from his exasperated muzzle before Gottschalk waved him to settle down. The Shepard dog's hard smile, if any, was a flat line spread across his exposed fangs. He spoke while Putzkammer continued to translate, stirring the indignant wolf even more.

"At least now I know how you came to meet the American coyote." Gottschalk leaned back in his chair, which creaked, before continuing. "Y_ou can understand now why my faith in you has been shaken_."

"Herr Hauptmann! Ich hab für Ihnen fast zehn jahre gedient! Warum verbringen sie dies zum punkt jetzt wenn..." The wolf spoke in German, but Gottschalk silenced him a with paw.

"In English. I want my translator to verify your dodgy British words."

Konrad's tail tucked some at the assertion. His black paws trembled on the blood soaked table. He obliged in blind obedience and repeated in English. "Mien Hauptmann. I have served under you for almost ten years. Why bring this up now of all times?" Only then did his superior officer offer up an answer.

"Because." Gottschalk folded his arms. "We have been ordered to methodically go through our ranks to weed out any possible spies or terrorists. There has been an ... incident." The two canids across from him grew silent and impassive, as if observing his reaction. Konrad's ears perked, curious and guiltless at the same time.

"An incident? Where?"

"At the parliament building in Berlin."

"At the Reichstag?"

"Y_es. It seems Serbian sympathizers managed to smuggle an explosive into the Chamber of Deputies during a legislative session yesterday. The blast killed many representatives. We just received the telegraph a few hours ago._" The schäferhund continued to study his subordinate's reaction. Konrad's blood ran away from his muzzle.

"Dear God ..."

"Oberfeldwebel Wagner," Putzkammer continued his line of questioning. "After you left the British Navy and right up to when you signed with recruiter Feldwebel Heimerman, you lived in Vienna. Is that right?"

"Errm ... yes ..." Konrad's yellow eyes flicked back and forth between the two across the table. His muzzle lips felt dry, and he licked them.

"In the month leading up to your enlistment, the Kommunistische Partei sterreichs instigated several riots in the neighborhood you lived in. You wouldn't ... know anything about that, would you?" The Elk Hound's pause ruffled the black wolf's hackles.

"I'm not a damned Communist!" Konrad slammed his fisted paw into the table, the old wood jarring with a hard rattle.

"But you worked at the Benz factory in Vienna for over three years. Surely you must understand why they fought for worker's rights." Putzkammer baited in sympathetic tones. Konard stood up out of his chair, his claws raking the table now at this mock tribunal.

"Die einzige rechte wofür ich kampfe sind die rechte des Osterreichs! Verdamnt was gehört wem!" Konrad growled in heavily accented German, scoffing at the shiny gold buttons holding the Elk Hound's fur lined coat closed. "Oder bist du nür mit gold und pelz betroffen? Kapitalistische Schweinhund!"

Despite the political and specist insults, the corners of Gottschalk's muzzle lips curled in a sassy grin. Putzkammer however, was not amused.

"And just how long have you consorted with this American coyote, this ... William?" He asked with stone cold empathy. Konrad dropped back down in his chair, his heart racing. He didn't know how far this interrogation might go. "Just what is your relationship with ...?"

Before Putzkammer could finish his inquiry Gottschalk laid a paw on his aid's shoulder, stopping the inquiry after recognizing the coyote's name.

"Genug, Hurst. Die Persönliche Aufnahmen des Oberfeldwebels sind nicht meine Besorgnis."He smiled at Konrad and addressed him directly with German this time. Still, Konrad's racing mind continued to translate despite the now silent aide. "I just need to know who I can trust."

"You can trust me Mien Hauptmann!"

The wolf's tail raised and brushed against the back of the coat and chair. Konrad would do anything to regain his superior's trust. Gottschalk noticed Konrad's eagerness and stood up, brushing the gray dust from his ceaseless black officer's tunic and trousers before putting on his winter coat. He waved the two follow him to the next room, opening the door to the grimy, dirt stained kitchen.

Rows of mason jars filled with pickled vegetables lined the dusty shelves. A rusted icebox sat in the corner. Sacks of potatoes lined one wall. Aside from those things and some soldats, the room was barren. Five of Gottschalk's personal guard stood at attention when he entered, two of them snuffing out smokes before pulling their rifles to their side.

"As members of the sterreichs Bundesheer, we form a cohesive wolf pack. That pack has an obligation to herd the defenseless flock of the Austrian people." The schäferhund stepped past his line of soldats, then paused at the end. "Do you understand now why we must weed out the rouge wolves from our pack?" His head turned slightly, eye arching as he appraised the wolf behind him.

"But Mien Hauptmann? If the wolves are constantly watching each other, who watches the sheep? What happens if a Wolf gets in the Fold?" Konard asked. Gottschalk's Machiavellian grin widened, but instead of answering he had his guard open the back door, leading everyone out.

Outside, two other soldats shivered in the unsheltered storm, watching over a prisoner kneeling in the snow. The soldiers blew into their paws to keep them warm, the white billows snatched away on the cruel bitter wind. They shuffled the scuffed stocks of their Kar 98b's from one paw to the other in order to keep them from freezing to their worn thin gloves. Ice had formed on their iron bore sights.

None of this helped the prisoner kneeling in front of them. The old weasel's hunched form racked with pained and terrified sobs. His thick salty tears froze just under the fur of his sunken, hollowed eyes. His weathered paws looked like talons, their arthritic digits gnarled in agony. From the pictures inside, this Serbian was no relative of those who had lived here. The Serb looked up with pleading ice blue eyes toward Konrad.

The black wolf looked over to his commanding officer with a question look. Gottschalk's wicked fangs flashed back at him, and he had to raise his voice to be heard over the shriek of the blizzard.

"The men found him hiding in one of the nearby barns with a hunting rifle." His cruel eyes narrowed. "Now I must ask you, Oberfeldwebel, will you run with the pack?"

The schäferhund's paw undid the latch to his holster and pulled out his Luger P08 before handing the pistol to Konrad. Gottschalk marched back inside with his five guard and left the remaining four outside in the blinding snow. Konrad looked down at the pistol in his numb paw blankly. His thumb claw scraped across the pistol grip in contemplation before looking down past it to the Serb mumbling something in the snow in front of him. The two remaining guards stared at him expectantly. A sudden gust ruffled their threadbare coats.

Konrad knew that Gottschalk lied to him; the old weasel's arthritic paws could never hold a rifle stead enough to snipe anyone. But this wasn't a test of Wagner's compassion. It was a test of his obedience. He had his unspoken orders. And he was not a lone wolf.

The wolf looked down at the nameless Serb blubbering at his feet. Konrad took stock of his emaciated form, his pathetic pleas. He was an old farmer, who had broken his back to feed his family through the long years. Was this the enemy he had been fighting for the past ten years?

His muzzle lips tightened, claws wrapping around the freezing metal of the pistol's grip. He thought of Franz. He thought of William. And for some reason he thought of Helga.

Is this a Serb? Konrad thought to himself. Is this a Serbian? He repeated to himself. Unworthy of life?

Konrad's yellow eyes narrowed before aiming the pistol at the weasel's head. The Serb sputtered as the sights lined up between his blue eyes, mewling before sealing them shut. Konard wondered if he muttered unheard prayers. Did Serbs even have souls?

As his anger grew, his claw tightened around the trigger. Konrad's chapped muzzle lips tightened against his fangs, now exposed. The past ten years rushed past his dizzy head. Bloodshed. Explosions. Screams of fallen brothers. A mate he rarely saw. Till now, he had no face to pin his burdens on. The unrelenting gale continued to fling crusty flakes all around them.

This winter was bitter. Like his poisoned heart. And neither seemed to end.

His index claw flexed in one smooth pull. The rest followed in slow motion. The pistol jerked with recoil, the single shot deafening despite the roar of the blizzard. A splash of dark crimson splattered the white pristine snow behind the Serb, and the lifeless body slumped to the ground with a soft crunch. Konrad dumbly watched on as a small line of blood dripped from between the corpse's opened, blue eyes. It trickled through the ice and snow to stop between his hind feet.

The two guards smiled and started joking with each other before going inside, seeking warmer times. Konard stood there in the storm, but he felt little.

He was like the Serb. Dead inside.

_Novi Sad

January 21st, 1930_

William was so absorbed into his diagram that he failed to hear someone step up behind him. Only until a shadow fell across his hunched form did the coyote even register someone else was around.

"Ich bin beschaeftigt. Wenn sie die revidiert getriebe vorschlag braucht, fragen sie mein Adjunkt, Leopold an. Ich gab ihn die Plaene frueher diesen Morgen" The coyote dropped the stencil onto the work desk and worked out the cramp forming in his writing paw. He glanced at the clock without even bother to recognize the businessman behind him. Good God. He thought. Its almost eight o'clock? Leopold and the rest of the staff left for the day three hours ago.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend, Will?" A familiar, aged feline rumble came from behind. It had been a long time since someone had spoken English to him. William's green eyes widened, his ears perked. Was it really him? The coyote turned away from the workbench in his posh swivel chair, his white engineer's coat bunching a bit at the arm rests.

"Mr. Skeffington!" William almost choked. "What are you doing here?" In the small amount of light the coyote's adjustable desk lamp afforded the grim yellow cougar cocked his head a bit. He still wore his trademark gray business suit. A black armband glimmered in the small pool of light around them. It was like he never had changed, not once in the fifteen years William had known the war profiteer.

"Is that any way to address an old friend Will?" Drake smiled before placing a wrinkled paw on the engineer's right shoulder. The other one leaned heavily on an ebony walking cane. His yellow fangs glinted in the weak light.

"I'm sorry ... Drake." William got stiffly out of his chair and hugged the cougar, his slender paws feeling their way across the older feline's frail back. The coyote allowed the embrace to linger longer than he should have, but it had been a long time since anyone had offered. With Konrad's division pushing deeper into Serbian controlled territory, it was dangerous to see his mate. William released the cougar before stepping back and stretching the stiffness out of his back.

"What brings you back to your factory?"

"Well." Drake's grin widened. "I jut got back from a meeting with the heads of Steyr. We've just entered into a large contract with them, and I wanted to make sure there were no snags on the fine print here. They're going to be building the new diesel drive train you have been working on."

"You know about that?" William almost stuttered. He hadn't even told the project head, Walter about it yet. He'd bet the gruff horse might shit bricks when he told the horse he could triple the torque of the existing drive train design while cutting the diameter of the differential in half.

"I'm the one who hired you, Will. How could I not keep close tabs on Project Blitzkampf?" The cougar's smile faded somewhat. "And with the nasty business that happened last week at the Reichstag, talk among defense contractors have been abuzz. As you can imagine, what's left of parliament have abdicated full executive control to Joint Chiefs Oskar von Hindenburg and Bardolff in light of recent security concerns." The look on William's muzzle darkened somewhat.

"So are we at war then?"

"Close to it. If not now, then soon." Drake's smile returned before draping his arm around William's thin shoulders, leading him closer to the door. "But thats not what I wanted to see you about."

"Its not?" The coyote gave a questioning look.

"I was wondering if you would escort me to my hotel room. I had a long night on the train back last night from Steyr, and I would like to have dinner with someone other than business associates if that's all right?"

"Alright." The placated words slipped off the coyote's muzzle lips without thought. He took his coat off at the door to the workroom and hung it up. He left the work desk lamp on and forgot to put away the diagram in a secure lock box as dictated by company policy. William it seemed, was far less worried about communist industrial spies than Drake's constituents.

William at least locked the door behind him, and the two walked down the dark empty hallway past Drake's office. The cougar's stenciled name featured prominently on the frosted glass, but the office itself had sat unused for almost five years. A fine layer of dust had settled on the inert mechanical typewriter at his desk. The ink in his ink well had long since dried out.

Further on past the office project heads' offices they passed a window that offered a small view of the factory floor below. The chassis of experimental kampwagens sat in various states of completeness. Some lacked treads. The turrets of others dangled from lengths of industrial chain strung from huge overhead cranes. Their main guns played with both rifled and smooth bore concepts. One kampwagen used a gyroscope to help stabilize the turret's sights during combat maneuvers, an early attempt at land based firing control.

The light sweep of falling snow greeted them as they went out the front doors, pausing a moment to button up their overcoats. As they stepped into the empty streets of Novi Sad, the clock tower at the Petrovaradin bonged out eight times, the light coat of snow falling over the city muffling the deep strokes. They made small talk as their shoes crunched in the fresh power, catching up on old times. Every lamp post they passed bathed them in a soft glow, the comfortable silence from the rest of the city cozy in a old fashioned way. The air was still, and the angelic flakes alighted on their noses like little kisses from heaven.

The two continued their slow way from the block of Novi Sad's factory center to downtown, electing to enjoy the stroll rather than to hail down a carriage or taxi car. They paused at one point to enjoy the gentle babble of the Danube running along side them. It reminded William of Vienna, and of the good times he had with Konrad.

Before the military changed him.

Afterwards they stopped on Dunavska Street to grab a late dinner at one of the few restaurants to remain open. It was simple folk fare, but hearty. It too, reminded the coyote of the food Konrad would bring back to their home in Vienna after working long hours at the factory. Later as they passed under the protective likeness of Hermes perched atop a dome, Drake tucked one of his weathered paws into his coat pocket and gave a soft weary sigh, almost lost among the slow flakes.

"Something wrong?" William asked. On instinct the coyote hooked a paw through the crook of the cougar's arm. He was careful not to lean on Drake too much, lest he throw off the old feline's already hobbled gait. The cougar smiled and stopped for a moment to lean the ebony cane against his thigh. He patted the kind canid paw before looking up to the statue with a long tired look in his eyes.

"I think ..." Drake mused with a dark rumble "... that I have traveled too far."

"We can stop to rest to rest on a bench if you would like." William offered.

Drake smiled at the concern, but grabbed his cane and started forward again. While the coyote escorted him back to his hotel room arm in arm, the cougar fished about a vest pocket for his watch. Drake opened it with a sharp 'click', and for the first time in fifteen years, the coyote engineer got a close up look at the peculiar gold timekeeper.

While it looked like a standard turn of the century watch, albeit with several smaller dials inset within the larger circle of roman numerals, the compelling glow from its inner mechanisms glittered off William's green irises. The coyote felt himself drawn into the strangely reactive light, as if it hearkened back to the birth of the universe and beyond. Before the thrall could further hypnotize the engineer, Drake closed the timepiece with another sharp 'click' and deposited it back into his vest pocket.

"Five seconds slow ..." the cougar rumbled. William wondered what the feline meant until the clock tower far in the distance bonged out nine times. Most of the city was asleep or settling down, the main streets all but empty now.

"You trust mechanical springs over precision gears?" The engineer perked his ears, curious.

"I trust the precision of quantum wave form collapse over crude atomic decay." Drake mused, but before the curious coyote could ask further, they stopped in front of a slate building front. The older cougar turned just long enough to thank his escort. Huge flakes continued to fall in the small gap between them. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Will. I wish you a good night."

Drake nodded courteously before turning to the front door to his hotel. The sudden prospect of being alone among the gentle snowfall in an empty city pressed down on the lonely coyote. Without warning William lurched forward and latched back on the cougar's arm. Drake turned back around, but didn't seem surprised.

"Yes, Will?"

"I ... don't want to be alone tonight." William's tail swished about. "I don't want to wait another five years just to see you for another hour ..." The coyote ran a dry tongue over his muzzle lips, hoping that the cougar wouldn't reject him.

"Very well." Drake patted the canid's arm. "You aren't a boy anymore, Will." He paused. "Would you fancy a nightcap?"

"Yes." William smiled, his ears trembling slightly. "I think I would like that very much."

Drake nodded and placed a paw on the coyote's back, gently leading him inside the warm lobby. The second shift clerk at the desk perked his ears at the entrance of the cozy two, but went back to his paper, saying nothing. The bear certainly had his opinions and suspicions, but the hotel owner didn't pay him to express those. And for what the eccentric cougar paid her for a single night, it bought the peculiar businessman a lifetime of silence.

They were not accustomed to being paid up front in mint condition Vereinsthalers after all. The rarity of the coins alone were enough to pay off the bills for reconstruction and renovation after the Great War.

Instead the bear absorbed himself in the news of the day. Buried deep in the small 'World Events' section of the Serbian publication was a small blurb about the Berlin Naval Conference. As the German Federation and Japanese Empire had the largest fleets in the Atlantic and Pacific respectively, a peaceful negotiation to limit naval armament seemed in their best mutual interests.

While they had been adversaries in the Great War, the Generals of the German Federation had much in common with the rising totalitarian Showa Empire. They also shared borders with a common political scourge: Communist Russia and China. Coincidentally, Japanese militaristic ultra-nationalists within the Kwantung Army at Mukden, Manchuria, had taken keen note of the explosion at the Reichstag, and its resulting repercussions for Serbia.

Meanwhile Drake and William had taken the stairs all the way up to the top third floor, and from the silence of the other posh rooms, they were the only ones up there. William barely even heard his hind foot steps under the new mulberry colored carpeting. The cougar stepped past a replica Macedonian vase sitting atop an elegant table before pulling out a bronze key and unlocking his room. He ushered the coyote inside before re-locking the lacquered black oak door back behind them.

The room's inside was not as well decorated as William would have thought. Several of the painting hanging inside looked like prints. Much of the original brass plumbing had been torn out, their replacements still shiny and new. The imitation Persian rugs looked like they were bought in haste, and did not match well with the new wallpaper. The sheets on the bed barely looked used.

"Its not what I expected ..." William muttered, more to himself as Drake offered to take his coat, resting his ebony walking cane by the door.

"What do you mean?" Drake's muzzle looked humored. He hung up their winter coats and limped over to the liquor cabinet, rummaging through it.

"I just expected someone of class to have better ..." William's words slipped off his muzzle as he realized what he implied. "I'm sorry. That was rather rude of me." His paws seemed to sweat and fidget. The black tip of his tail twitched about.

"You forget Will. I'm a businessman. And these were the best accommodations in Novi Sad available. Fifteen years ago Austrian artillery shells gutted half the buildings here." Drake turned his head back to William, that grin widening. "And with Serbian insurgent attacks against re-construction contractors only increasing, this is the best that anyone can do right now." He fished out a decanter and turned around. "Weinbrand?"

"No ice." William licked his dry muzzle lips again. He felt butterflies fluttering about his stomach. While he waited for Drake to pour the drinks, he felt so acutely aware that he was, for the first time, alone with the mysterious cougar who had fluttered in and out of half his life. Drake turned around and with a careful gait, managed to hand over the small glass without spilling any brandy.

"Cheers." The British cougar grinned to the American coyote before tipping his glass and downing half the red colored contents. William followed suit, the strong taste almost making him choke, but the sudden hot flush felt nice after the long stroll through the snow.

They locked gazes somewhat, William's usual feeling of awe washing over him as he looked over the old cougar's weathered features. Only now did the slight shrapnel scars on his face, remnants of the undisclosed war that hobbled him, become apparent. Instead of projected frailty, the coyote saw an intelligent feline brazened by fire. Ever since the times at his uncle's shipyards, William could not deny his attraction for older males.

Driven by loneliness and pure need, William closed the short space between their muzzles and pressed his longer muzzle against the cougars, closing his eyes. The first touch of their lips felt electric, the anticipation and fantasy more than helping to fuel the mix of emotions and desire sloshing about inside William. Lost in a timeless place, a timeless moment, William felt wanted again.

The delirious spell broke when he felt Drake's paw press gently on his back, pressing the coyote closer to his own need. William's ears flinched at the gentle insistence, only now realizing the ramifications. He thought of all the years with Konrad in mate ship, how that seemed to be slipping away from him no matter what he offered in compromise to the wolf.

William had turned down offers from his friend Adolf's own tight circle of close friends on more than one occasion; promises of more than just one night flings of sweat and primal release. Those discreet offers included sharing of beds in Berlin, things he had offered to Konrad in more than one letter, only to be pushed aside with excuses of duty or honor or whatever else Konrad had chosen over him.

Despite the coyote's sudden misgivings, it was Drake who pulled away first. The cougar seemed to bite his lower lip with his fangs, turning sharply to deposit his drink on a nearby table. His fists clenched in small spasms. This was the most emotional William had seen the cougar in the sparse fifteen years he had known him.

"Damn it all." He rumbled, the hard creases in his face and muzzle deepening. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Wha ...?" William blinked in confusion. "I'm the one who instigated ... I should be apologizing to ..." Drake waved the younger male to silence.

"While it would not be fitting for someone like me to be seen cavorting around with someone half his age, its our business relationship that I fear I have just placed in jeopardy." The coyote's ear flicked, and he set down his own drink, leaning against the table next to him.

"You are hardly around. I don't think the rest of the company would see that as a conflict of interest."

"It would be if I was planning to make you project head."

There was a moment of deadpan silence.

"Oh. I guess that would seem a bit coincidental." William's tail swished in thought some. "But what about Walter?" Drake dragged in a heavy inhale and sighed.

"Truly a genius ahead of his time. A visionary. But ..."

"But ..." William's ears perked. The play of his claw on the table illicited a small smirk from Drake.

"But ... it would be impropitious of me to suggest that Walter's age might be slowing him down. I think that the only way he will ever be put to pasture is if someone drags him by the reigns."

William tried not to chuckle at the subtle digs at his supervisor. The gruff horse had never tried to improve his rough first impression with the younger coyote, and after five years of working under Mr. Christie, William was ready for a new direction. The equine's insistence on performance over mechanical reliability had always been a divergence between them.

"Do you think he will take it well?" William asked.

"I plan to be safely back in Berlin by the time he reads the letter." The two smiled at each other with amused understanding. A moment passed by before the coyote edged closer to the cougar once more.

"So ... its just our business relationship you are concerned about?" William's quivering paw tips reached out and brushed lightly down the cougar's gray suit sleeve, claw running over the strange black armband. It did feel metallic after all.

"I have to keep reminding myself that you are no longer the amorous boy I passed by in the hold of the Lucy so long ago." Drake rumbled a bit, his deep voice touched with a bit of reflection. His eyes narrowed a bit. "Even though, I would rather not come between you and ..."

"I'm leaving him."

There was a moment of struck silence between them. Drake seemed to inhale a little, then let it out slowly before returning to study his drink. William's paw continued to play down the cougar's gray shirt.

"I cant offer you anything. Anything that might last." The older feline seemed guilty, and the thirty year old coyote's claws teased the button's holding his shirt closed.

"I'm not expecting for it to. And this isn't over you. I can't wait for Konrad anymore. Its been fifteen years, and Ive yet to ever get flowers on our anniversary. I need something more than unfulfilled promises."

"I cant promise anything. My heart belongs to someone else." The cougar gaze dropped to the table in front of him before downing the rest of the brandy in one graceful motion. There was another moment of weariness and sadness in his yellow eyes, but it passed soon enough.

"Its not your heart that I want tonight." William's claw snuck into Drake's shirt, scraping the cougar's chest. "Its been a long time since ..." Drake nodded, the tips of his ears flush with the liquor. His feline tail wrapped around the coyote's slender waist.

"I'm surprised that you are into shriveled, stiff old coots." The look in his eyes looked amused as the coyote leaned in for another kiss. Drake's feline tongue braved a run just under William's lower muzzle lip. The sandpaper feeling send a shiver down the coyote's spine.

"The stiffer the better." A bold yote paw felt its way down the cougar's shirt and past his belt to play with his inseam.

Drake gave a soft rumble, but also rolled his playful eyes at William's comment. Those with more rigid cultural upbringing often had a hidden raunchy streak to them. He eased his own paws down the coyote's slender body, feeling the masculine angles despite his slim, feminine looks. William certainly had gown up. Drake felt like the proverbial dirty old man for what he was about to do.

The cougar's paws pressed in firm circles over the coyote's chest, the pads of his paw gliding over the material of William's shirt. William's eyes swam a little, light growls escaping those delicious and ever supple muzzle lips. The growl turned into a sharp whine of need as Drake's experienced paw edged its torturous way down to feel the hard outline tenting the coyote's slacks.

William shuddered as the mature paw gave his hidden sheath a firm squeeze, rubbing the outline on the outside of his pants. He mashed his muzzle against Drake's own again, their heavy exhales rushing past their whiskers. They spent a few minutes just exploring each other's bodies, one of the the coyote's paws running back up the the of the grizzled cougar's skull to run his claws through the short cropped head fur there. The other deftly undid the button's to Drake shirt despite the anticipation trembling through them.

Drake stiffened when William started taking off his shirt, and the coyote broke the kiss with a questioning look. The cougar's left paw reached up to slide the black arm band off, but seemed overly cautious to keep it tightly clenched in a paw while he pulled off the rest of his clothing.

"Something wrong?" William's ears perked when we watched Drake strip down to his briefs. The cougars undergarment looked odd, but maybe that was something new and trendy the British had cooked up. Once down to to his briefs, Drake slid the armband back into place onto his right arm.

"No. You could say its seemed like years since Ive had that suit off." The humor pulling at the corners of the feline's cracked muzzle lips looked comical in of itself. He stepped out of the pool of clothing at his hind feet and stepped over to the shorter canid, paws roaming over the coyote's own clothes.

"I was wondering about that." William smiled before wrapping his arms around Drake shoulders.

Their lips met again in a steamy open muzzle kiss while Drake's stiff fingers undid William's own button's. The coyote's shirt slipped of his thin shoulders and dropped to the carpet with a soft flomp. His belt and slacks soon followed. Their paws slid over each others exposed fur, thankful for the privacy of the evening. They savored each tactile moment, every savory sensation. Those outside the oak door might not understand. Some might even pick up a stone or two.

Here, in paid privacy, they could just enjoy each other, and not worry about the conservative times outside.

William's paw slipped back down to feel along the hard outline of Drake's junk contained in his strange under wear. The cougar's deep rumbled drove the coyote onward, emboldening him enough to slip his paw into the feline's elastic waistband. He ran paw tips over the wet length. It felt so hard and warm. William smiled through another panting kiss.

"Whatever these are called, I want a pair. They are so much easier to ... access ...." The coyote gave a playful look up into the cougar's eyes. Drakes own claws fumbled with the Fort Knox of buttons holding William's sheath imprisoned.

"I see ... what you mean." Drake panted out as William helped him out some. The coyote hooked his thumb claws into his underwear and dragged them to the ground before stepping out of them. William knelt and did the same for the cougar, taking care to help unhook the elastic from around the ankle of Drake's bad leg.

William gave a wicked smiled up at the cougar from his spot near the floor before wrapping a paw around the free hanging pink length bobbing before his canid nose. He closed his eyes before sliding his muzzle over the musky length, letting the top of his tongue taste the underside of Drake's spined feline cock.

The cougar's bad leg almost buckled as the younger coyote bobbed gently on his feline girth, a long drawn out groan escaping from his muzzle lips. One of William's paws groped the sacs banging against his furry chin, slurping the length between his fangs and gums. The other paw clamped around Drake's sheath, pulling it back to expose more of the feline's length.

Drake looked down to the kneeling canid sucking him off, his yellow ears twitching at the sensation. One of his paws caressed a large black tip ear, which flickered against the warm pads. His brittle claws scraped at the coyote's scalp as the top of William's tongue waggled along the sensitive underside to the cougar's shaft. It had been a long time for Drake, and enjoyed every moment of it.

William gently squeezed Drake's sacs before taking his other paw and wrapping it around base of Drake's hard cock. He steadied the stiff length and swallowed it all down to his fist, feeling the tip of the cougar bump against the back of his throat. The yote's bushy tail swished behind him, sometimes brushing the floor in his delirium. The look on his muzzle, the way his closed eyes projected bliss, was like the immense joy of a small boy sucking the last bit of melted ice cream through the bottom of a waffle cone on a sweltering summers day.

The tip of William's own stiffness bobbed gently as the coyote muzzled the cougar, a huge drop of pre dripping from the coyote's slitted tip to splat into the small pool of discarded clothes he knelt in. Drake's extended claws clutched the back of William's head, scraping his skull with pleasured grunts and feline purrs. Despite the climax building deep inside him, Drake gave a final mewl and dragged William off him. The coyote's tail swished a bit, another drop falling from his own hard shaft as he gave a questing look of dismay up to the cougar.

"Did I ... do something wrong?"

"No no ... my boy ..." the older feline panted, trying to regain his breath "I'm afraid my stamina isn't what it used to be." William smiled and stood up, taking a wrinkled paw in his own.

"Well, I'll just have to make sure that I hurry and make the most of it." The devious and needful gleam in his lusty green eyes made Drake smile more, and he made no protest as the American led him to the neatly made hotel bed.

They laid down into the crisp sheets, felt the well used mattress cradle their naked forms. There the coyote spend a few more minutes licking the older cougars shaft, his paws fondling the sacs between those thin feline legs. The feline let the energetic coyote molest him, his own paws caressing the canid ears tickling his stomach. Drake watched William's long tongue lap up and down his pink, glistening length. Long strings of saliva mixed with the beads of precum dribbled down the tip to his barbed cock.

When William felt the cougar hard, tortured enough, he crawled away from Drake on his paws and knees. The younger engineer looked back to the war profiteer with a saucy gleam, his bushy tail swishing about. It bobbed and raised every so often, exposing the pucked bud of his tail hole with teasing regularity.

The look in the businessman's eyes was priceless.

With marked stiffness, the older cougar pulled himself up to his knees and moved in behind the horny coyote. The tail moved out of the way without needing to ask. Drake grabbed his saliva slicked shaft and maneuvered the dripping tip between the coyote's furry cheeks. The cougar rubbed his length along the soft cleft and William whined, his ears folding back along his slim skull. Drake's cock head slipped back and forth across William's puckered hole, his front paws fisting in the now rumbled sheets.

"Don't make me wait for it ..." The coyote pleaded, caught between remaining still and thrusting backward. His own length stiffened in torturous anticipation, stead drips of pre falling to the sheets underneath him. Drake paused, his feline tail twitching at the unknown irony.

"Seems like forever, doesn't it Will?" The cougar let the coyote whine for another moment, let the bushy tail before him swish about some before grabbing William's hips and pushing forward.

His slick tip met a moment of resistance before the coyote relaxed, and Drake watched in erotic satisfaction as his tip spread that cute pucker. Drake continued to sink into to William's ass, and the feline felt him shudder with a hot moan. William had to muster all his will not to push back on the hot spear sinking deep into his tight insides.

"Ohhhh God Drake .... its been too long." William's groaned through a partially open muzzle, His green sealed shut in ecstasy. Drake's cock didnt feel so much like an invader as a piece of himself that had been lost for a long time.

"Yesss ... " The older feline hissed out, his ears laid back against his flat skull. " ... it has." Drake pushed forward until he hilted the slender canid, his bare hips brushing against the tight ass his cock was buried so deep into. Without being directed, Drake grabbed the sensitive base of William's tail and pulled hard.

William yipped, a sudden gush of pre shooting from his hardness to splat the tousled bedding under them. The coyote's ass clenched around for a knot on instinct, but instead only found the pricks of barbs instead. Despite the hard yank, William moaned louder, shoving his slack muzzle deep into the sheets and wigging his stuffed ass a little. It was so hot.

Still, the coyote wondered how the cougar knew his secret little kink. He had never even told Konrad, although the wolf had gotten a little too rough and insensitive for his tastes in recent years. Drake leaned down give a dark rumble into William's splayed black tipped ear.

"Are you ready Will? This may sting a bit ..."

"No! Don't you dare stop!" William rocked his hips, started pushing back into Drake. The base of Drake's sheath squashed against William's spread hole, but he didn't care.

Drake nodded before pulling out. The sudden scrapes from his barbs made William clench, yip again. His claws dug into the sheets, not expecting the sudden stings in his sensitive insides.

"Ahh!" The coyote gasped out, green eyes suddenly shooting open from the pain. At the same time they scraped against the hard lump of his prostate, making it tighten even more. William's pain hissed through his muzzle lips, now tight against his gums. Drake only got halfway out before shoving himself slowly back in. That didn't hurt nearly as much.

They repeated the process a few times until the scrapes lessened, but the stings felt like a thousand paper cuts. Sweat broke out across their bodies from the exertion and excitement despite the how slow they took it. It had been a long time for William and Drake simply lacked the stamina. That didn't mean they didn't enjoy it, their flustered pants growing in intensity as they reached for mutual release.

How long did they fuck on the bed like that? Drake might say something akin to 'Long Enough'. For William, it went by far too fast. But that was the way of such moments: gone in a flash, but burned in one's memory for a lifetime. The bed swayed gently with each of Drake's hard thrusts, William's body rocking back and forth from the deep rut.

After a while their tempo picked up; the soft sounds of the shifting mattress overtaken with the loud rhythmic slap of carnal fulfillment. The pain along his inner walls eased, slicked somewhat. It still stung though. They filled the air with hard pants and groans, the occasional reassurance.

"Ughh" Drake grunted, fangs tight as his growled out. His stiff hips started bouncing erratically against William tight ass. "You're so tight Will." His breath sounded labored, lung wheezing somewhat. "I don't think I'm going to last much longer."

"Yeah that's it!" William groaned out, pushing his ass in the air, matching each of the older feline's thrusts. His swollen length swung back and forth, hitting the underside of his belly with a rhythmic slap. His eyes shut themselves again, muzzle grinding back and forth on the sheets as the cougar speed up. "Its so deep ... erggghh."

William's body clenched around the barbed length scraping in and out of his hole, the barbs only simulating his pulsing prostate even more. The coyote felt the hard clench rising from the deepest parts of him, the deepest parts getting gouged in and out in a blissful mantra. He clutched paw fulls of the sweat soaked sheets, teeth gritting together as William fought to stiffed the coyote howl threating to break from between his tightly clenched muzzle lips. He didn't want to anger the hotel owner by disturbing the other patrons.

The coyote grunted one last time before his swinging meat exploded into the sweat soaked sheets. Drake's keen flat feline nose caught the musky spurt, felt William clench hard around him, and with an exhausted final thrust collapsed onto the younger canid. His sore hind legs twitched a bit, the rest of his body half on his side as Drake dumped a thick load deep inside the coyote's torn up guts. The sudden flush of sting made William whimper and shake for a few moments, tempering the swell and fall of his climax.

They laid there for some time, trying to catch there breath. Drake's paw tips roamed over the soft fur of William's underbelly, his slightly extended claws only punctuating the content rumble deep in his chest. William's glazed green eyes looked back to his older lover, a languid bushy tail swishing between them.

"That was ... fantastic ..." William panted out, wiping off a light sheen of sweat from his brow. The cougar settled into a loose spoon to cradle younger coyote, his limbs shaking from exhaustion. The scent of male musk, seed, sweat, and sex saturated the air.

"You are quite welcome, Will." The cougar ran a sandpaper tongue over his charge's perked right ear. He pulled out of William's sore ass, which leaked feline spunk twinged with small streaks of blood. "And I'm sorry about any discomfort you might feel in the next few days."

"It was worth it." William gave a happy sigh despite the thousand stings biting at his tail hole.

They enjoyed the moment for all that it was worth. William's mind wandered for a time, thinking about the strange series of circumstances that had led up to this moment. Still, he could not push away the slight sliver of guilt plaguing his conscious. Drake almost seemed to be reading William's mind.

"This may be a poor time to mention this, but I'm going down to the front lines past the security zone in Belgrade to do a field inspection. I'll most likely talk to Konrad. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

William's paw found Drake's, a sudden pang flushing through his stomach as he ran a thumb over the cougar's wrinkled paw. The yellow fur there looked dull with time and travel.

"Actually, if its not terribly improper, I was wondering if you could deliver my next letter to him ..."

"Say no more, Will." Drake drew in a heavy sigh as if he would shoulder the awkward burden with honor and dignity.

_January 23th, 1930

Ra?a, Serbia_

Konrad's heavy eyelids opened at the sound of the kitchen door, its rusty hinges creaking out. The black wolf felt utterly exhausted, the will to even stir sapped from his aching bones. His droopy gaze dragged itself from his padded evening chair to whoever came in to see him. The dim brick red light coming from deep within the pot bellied stove in the corner gave off just enough light to make out vague details in the dreary room.

The wolf closed his yellow eyes again when he realized it was just Gottschalk. He didn't even bother to stand up and address his superior officer.

" Sie haben einen Besucher." The Sheppard hound commented without emotion. Konrad continued to sit there, his tired body and weary soul soaking up the bone-dry heat from the wood stove. He said nothing. Gottschalk gave a momentary pause. "Vergessen sie nicht warum wir hier sind, Oberfeldwebel. Pause wird spater kommen, wenn sie seinen Denkwürdigkeiten um unser Sieg hier schreiben werden." Konrad's eyes opened to stare at the pure breed.

But victory at what price, mien Hauptmann? The wolf thought to himself before asking aloud.

"Bei irgendwelche Preis ... Konrad."

There was a strange inflection at the utterance of his first name. For a second, it almost seemed like Gottschalk felt for him. Before Konrad could get a better sense of the personal address, the Sheppard dog turned and left back through the kitchen door with a creak and squeak of his tight jackboots.

The bitter wind outside whistled through the cracks in the thin living room walls. Outside his men tended to the taxing upkeep of their combat vehicles despite the brutal winter. A part of him wished he was out there with them, overseeing their efforts to keep the fires lit under the diesel engine blocks. They were trained as soldiers first, mechanics as an afterthought.

Someone else limped through the doorway, and for a moment, Konrad had difficulty figuring it out who it was. When the dull red fire light twinkled off an exquisite ebony walking cane, the wolf closed his eyes again. He hadn't seen the shifty war profiteer in almost ten years, but the sliding scrape of the yellow cougar was as distinctive to him as it had been aboard the Lucy.

"What do you want?" The wolf rumbled out, too tired to manage a distrustful growl.

"Why, to see you Captain Wagner." Drake limped closer to the wolf and stopped, paw tips feeling about a letter tucked into his vest pocket. The cougar wore the same fur lined winter coat when he had stopped by for dinner at William and his apartment back in Vienna. The wolf wondered if the cougar had noticed in the last ten years to take the price tag off the fancy dress coat this time. "I have ... a letter from Will for you."

"I'm not a Captain. Put it on the over on the table over there." Konrad still had not bothered to reopen his eyes. Drake shuffled over to the only table in the room and dropped the letter on top of a war map dotted with coffee cup rings. Aside from stubby pencils, troop markers, and some marching orders, another unopened letter sat on top the scattered pile as well. This one looked addressed directly to Konrad from a Major Miles O'Doherty of the IRA.

"May I take a seat?" Drake asked, turning around and sliding off his thick winter coat. A dark sheen of sweat already appeared on the feline's light colored brow from the thick wave of heat the stove gave off.

"If you must." The wolf replied with marked indifference. His thick claws flexed a bit on the bare thread armrests of his evening chair. The cougar hung up his coat by the front door and limped over to the matching chair next to Konard before settling carefully down into the worn upholstery. Drake leaned his cane against the outside of his own armrest before checking his watch as a manner of obsessive habit.

"William sends his regards." Drake offered, watching the dull red glow from the grated stove opening flicker a bit as the wind whistled again outside.

"Tell him I want thicker armor. In the front especially. I don't care if I lose mobility."

"I'll tell him as such the next time I'm at the factory." Drake waited for a while to see if Konrad would say anything else. Instead, the gale outside gave another drawn out, shrill scream. The spit and crackle of the small fire filled the otherwise empty silence in the forcibly seized farm home turned temporary field headquarters. "Do you have anything else to tell him?"

"No."

"Very well." Drake's eyes slid shut. The two sat for a while like that for a long while, seeming to doze in the heavy heat. The stove sucked the very sweat from them, drinking it up into the dry air.

"Is that all you came to see me for?" Konrad's parched lips barely moved. He didn't even bother to lick them. "If so get out."

Drake's thin cracked muzzle lips curled at their corners, but instead of replying to the brusque order, he pulled out his pocket watch from his vest pocket and opened it again with a sharp 'click'. He ran a contemplative thumb claw over some of the smaller inset dials of his timepiece. Read together in roman numerals it tallied the year as 1930.

"No. I came to ask you about Adolf Hitler."

"Who?"

"An Austrian corporal from Braunau am Inn." It took a moment for the wolf to understand who the cougar meant.

"The architect and painter?" Konrad finally opened his eyes again, his lupine ears perked now with stirred curiosity. "What about him?"

"Do you ever think he will rejoin the military or run for office?"

"Why would he? Hes been a rather outspoken opponent of the government so far. And there is a nasty rumor that his father is a bastard Serb. That pretty much denies anyone a seat in the Deutscher Staatsbund these days." Konrad shook his head with some effort before snorting. "Why are you asking about an artist of all things?"

"Lets just say I met him in Vienna the day before I had dinner with you an Will ten years ago, and I saw him carousing with Jews."

"And?"

"I was confused at that."

"Why? He's sold the majority of his paintings through the same Jewish family for decades now. Everyone knows that."

"I see ..." Drake closed his eyes, and for the first time since Konrad had met the mysterious cougar, the war profiteer had seemed surprised by something. They sat there in silence for some time, the desolate sweep of an angry winter battering the small Serbian farmhouse. Its frame rattled, and the fire in the stove flickered some. After a while, Drake spoke.

"Do you hate Jews?" The corner of Drake's eyebrow raised a bit in the wolf's direction.

"No. Why would I? Why would any German for that matter? It was Jewish bankers who helped rebuild the Triple Crown's financial structure after the Great War. With the once mighty American industrial empire crumbling in the wake of Kansas, and with the British still paying war reparations, most of the world's gold makes its way through Austria and Switzerland."

"I'm well aware." The British war merchant gave a dry smirk.

"No doubt there will always be that dissent in German thinking." Konrad growled, his claws feeling their way across the bare thread armrests of a chair his men commandeered from a Serbian farmer. "In 1916 when the Eastern Front stalled, a few dissatisfied officers in the lower echelons of the Central powers suggested that Eastern Germany's Jews were not enlisting for the war effort. Publication of the Judenzählung quickly dispelled all that nonsense."

The black wolf rested his yellow eyes, unsure of why the British cougar would be so interested in anti-semitism all of the sudden. The feline's eventual sigh sounded relieved.

"That is good." Drake said simply, as if the weight of an entire world had fallen off a titan's shoulders. Drake rested again, letting the wind outside howl out. A few minutes passed, as if both had fallen asleep by the fire.

"No. Germany is proud of her Jews. Why do you ask?" Konrad finally spoke. His tail swished for the first time in an hour, its base stiff for sitting so long. The black hairs swept the ground in dirt of the worn wooden floor.

"Well," Drake began, his relaxed amber eyes roaming over the portraits of the displaced family on the wall, "As I came through the rail station at Belgrade I noticed some soldiers forcing a few scraggy lines of Serbs to board some boxcars. It reminded me of some pictures I had seen in a museum once."

"Probably in Novi Sad? This isn't the first time Serbs will pay for their seditious ways. You yourself instilled in me who started the Great War. I will not let it happen again. But what does this have to do with the Jews?

"Where are the Serbs being taken to?"

"To a camp just outside of Subocita. Thats where those implicated in the bombing at the Reichstag will be tried and executed." Konrad seemed to be growing more annoyed by the moment despite his mental exhaustion.

"I saw three boxcars of Serbs ..."

"Belgrade is a sordid haven for incoming insurgents from Sarajevo. And we are not done yet. Make no mistake. There will be more boxcars leaving the Belgrade station before the spring thaw."

Konrad turned toward Drake, his sharp fangs glinting in the dull red light from the stove. He was no longer the cheer free pup that Drake had seen so long ago aboard the Lucy. The trials of war had hardened him, tempered him into a wolven soldier who believed in the ends justifying the means. Drake's shifty muzzle lips curled, knowing his timeless efforts had not been in vain. The dark smile faded somewhat.

"I saw others being thrown on the train with them. Soldiers plundered and stripped their caravans. Smashing their instruments and scattering their tarot decks to the far winter winds."

"Gypsies." Konrad replied flatly, resting the back of his skull against the chair's headrest again. "We found them smuggling in pistols and explosives from Craiova to some of the Serbs suspected of insurgency. We've had our eye on them since the bombing in Skadarlija." Drake seemed saddened by this for some reason, and looked down to the floor before closing his amber eyes.

"I had not anticipated this." He seemed rueful, as if it was his fault. Konrad's heavy head rolled toward him on a thick, sore neck. The wolf's unfocused eyes met the gaze of the guilty cougar. A cougar who had spent a good portion of his life manipulating war. "They are such a beautiful people, the Roma."

Konard's calloused heart felt nothing, offered nothing. He couldn't even manage a shrug. Drake tried to smile at the wolf, a small tear forming at the corner of his bloodshot eyes.

"Why is it they always suffer? Why couldn't I change it, like I did the Iudaeus?" Drake continued to stare at Konard, as if he even knew what the surreptitious feline even meant. The wolf had enough of his cryptic musings for the evening, let alone the past fifteen years.

"Get out." Konrad said, his words punctuated with the edges of a feral growl. "Now."

Drake wiped away his crocodile tear with a sullied paw. No, Konrad would not be fooled. Those claws had spilled more blood in signature than his entire platoon had bringing their turrets to bear. The cougar didn't seem indignant as he fished about for his ebony walking cane before stiffly getting out of his chair and going for his coat. Its price tag fluttered out from a fold in its fur lining to dangle by a thin silk thread.

"I wish you a good evening then, herr Wagner."

Drake hobbled to the back door before he tipped his hat back to the wolf on the cusp of nightmare plagued sleep. Konrad had watched the shifty feline step to the threshold. When the cougar paused to give his best, the wolf though about raising his hackles and baring his fangs to see him off. His body lacked the motivation, but he forced his cracked muzzle lips to move. It took all his lung's effort to push out enough air out to speak.

"If I see you again, I shall shoot you myself." The wolf spat out.

Drake only nodded courteously before leaving out the back. Konrad's yellow eyes closed again, the tight flex of his lupine claws relaxing now from the arms of his chair. The howl of the forlorn wind outside continued its relentless cry, shaking the very timbers of the small farm house.

The spit and crackle of the fire lulled him to a fitful, uneasy sleep ...

~ Fin Chapter IV ~

I'd like to thank, again, Wehrwolf for helping with the extensive German translations needed for this novel, and his technical corrections which have proved invaluable.