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**THE FINAL NIGHTS

By Hunter

Prologue**

We have entered a dark age, an age of terror and tyranny, of battle and bloodshed, of horror and haggard hope! It is a time born of our most twisted nightmares, feeding off our despair and fear as we huddle and cringe in the shadows, never daring to sleep, for even the shadows are not as they seem, so tainted has our world become!

It is not just a dark age by name, for the sun has been banished to beyond a roiling sea of angry, sullen clouds. Hope was torn asunder and left tattered and frayed on the ground, trod upon in contempt as the legions infernal swooped across our world, rending our lives, devouring our flesh with slavering maws of slivered teeth, gulping down our spilt blood eagerly, quenching their hunger and thirst on our corpses, and on the feeble plees for mercy.

Across the divide they had come, to conquer a new world, to revel in the massacre they would sow. And sow they did! With gleeful abandon they wiped us from the earth, killing, raping, torturing and feasting as they came!

And yet, in our darkest hour, the flames of our spirits rekindled, and we rallied against the scaled and bat-winged tyrants that strode in arrogant pride through the skeletons of our once bustling cities. We were not strong enough to take back our world, but over time, we regained our strength, we uncovered new paths and launched a hit and run war against the demon hordes.

They may still hold the upper hand, they may still hold the greater numbers, but every day we grow stronger, as they squabble among themselves for land and food and power. Let it be that we do not follow in their clawsteps, for then we are truly doomed to extinction!

Yet the seeds of dissent have already been cast upon the winds of our revolution! A rift between the two factions that fight the demon invaders. Would it be that they would put aside their differences and join, how much stronger we would be, and how much quicker we would be able to reclaim our home!

The Resistance and the Inquisition are at war with the demons, yes, but at war with each other as well! While they may not resort to open skirmishes, the bad blood between the two costs us precious time and lost resources! But this was not always so, and though the Inquisitors wield great powers, the weakness they bring to the battle is their shortsightedness and arrogance!

The Resistance, furs who make use of firearms and reclaimed technology in their battles, freedom fighters, who trust to their comrades and their weapons, who fling themselves into the skirmishes, guns blazing in grim union with their battlecries!

The Templars, those furs who wield power, be it called magic or faith or miracles. They meet our demon invaders on the battlefields of the arcane, trading divine spells with spells demonic! Those furs who heal and protect by their will and faith alone!

Then came the Inquisitors, furs who had mastered their powers to such a degree and who sought the mantle of leadership in this "Holy War". They who speak of faith and sacrifice and the power of the enlightened over the fallen ones. They who seek treason and treachery even among their own ranks, for they are zealouts, devout and arrogant in their abilities! Some are like you and me, doing their best in a world gone mad, but for the most part, they seek to lead the way into the light, they seek to be leaders, in this world and in the reclaimed one. They have fallen to politics and intrigue, and their mistaken belief that they are the chosen saviours of furdom, that they alone can shift the balance.

Ah, but then, these words would be treason. These words would be inspired by the chaos bringers. These words would consign me to death, should they ever reach the ears of an Inquisitor!

It was a sad day when the Templar order succumed to them, and the order became the Inquisition! For none would want to go against these new commanders, for to do so would be treason. The gods, afterall, had given them the task of restoring light to the world, and in disbelieving them, you disbelieve the gods. And only demons would do that, right?

The Resistance weeps for those trapped in the webs the Inquisition have cast, and hold the Inquisitors and their lackeys in derision. But the flame of the Templar oath still beats strong in the hearts and mind of the faithful, and in them the Resistance can still trust. The Templar: warrior, healer, defender...

The sullen coulds wept over the dark and silent city, as though their soothing tears could wash away the tortured memories that still seemed to hover around the empty skeletons of tall and shattered skyscrapers like restless wraiths.

Rivulets of water twisted down the building walls to gather in puddles in the broken and uneven streets. The sound of boots falling on asphalt echoed out of the near darkness, sounding strangely out of place amid these vacant buildings looming upwards, to be lost in the gathering murk of nightfall. A splash as boot trod in puddle, then the pawsteps continuing, sounding louder and louder.

The shadowy figure walked calmly and with purpose down the centre of the street, head hanging a little low, eyes half shut, heedless of the falling rain that pitter-pattered off the ankles length longcoat, collars pulled up, unbuckled at the front, water dripping off the tip of his nose, tracing paths through his headfur. Handpaws resting in sidepockets, the fur seemed to be unaware of his surroundings, or the predicament he found himself in! That he was alone and in the open, with fair chance of catching the attention of the darker denizens of these times.

And yet onward he strode, through the falling sheets of rain, the vacant, sightless windows watching his progress towards the northern outskirts of this city, leaving rippling puddles in his wake. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, the roiling clouds giving voice to their sorrow, and their tears fell harder and faster to earth.

The fur stopped, then looked up into the falling rain, sighing as the water slid through his fur and against his skin, down the back of his neck, past the collar of his longcoat. Closing his eyes, he let his head hang back, his mouth open to catch the rain. The lancing rain and growing shadows drew a wall around him, granting the fur a sense of solitude, made more real by the emptiness around him. Allowing him a brief moment of fantasy, to leave the real world behind, to leave the battle and stress and horror of the occupation behind, and enter a place of peace.

Thunder rumbled again, snapping him out of his reverie, and he sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly and continuing on his way. His ears perked up as through the rain sounds of gunfire could be heard, muffled, from far away. Another skirmish, all to frequent these days, between demons and Resistance. Perhaps there were even Templars in the battle, but by the time he got there, it would all be over. So he strode onwards, feeling even more secure, for even though the battle would bring attention, that attention would be fixed on the fight, not on dark, empty streets and a lone fur wandering among them.

The area began to change from towering skyscrapers to small, squat wharehouses. The industrial centre of the city. Here things seemed the bleakest, the aura of lonliness greater than when you walked among the taller buildings, which seemed to crowd in on you, giving you some sense of shelter, and yet at the same time drawing upon that hidden sense of dread, that skitterish part of you that expected the dark doorways and shadow filled alleyways to spit out some nightmarish denizon, all claws and fangs and jagged maw! At least here you could have a chance of seeing them coming. Then again, so could they!

Here his movements became more cautious. Staying to the shadows, using the shattered wharehouses for cover, the fur moved swiftly and silently across this zone, on his guard for any dangers, hidden and obvious. He had used this way before, and so knew exactly where to move, where the greatest shelter would be granted. Climbing a broken staircase to the second floor of a wharehouse type building, the fur darted across the landing, only wet paw prints on the floor giving evidence to his passing.

At the far end he crouched to one side of a large gap in the wall. Though it he gazed out over an open stretch of concrete, dark and forboding buildings squating around it, gathering shadows about them. At the far end, what seemed to be a fortress, a five storey building reinforced against the demon hordes, bristling with unseen magical wards and a fair amount of firepower. Not anywhere near as much as the Resistance had, but a pretty hefty amount nontheless. No lights burned in the arched windows, but sconces set into the rune carved walls blazed, despite the rain, with fierce orange flame. Gargoyle heads sprouted from parapets and overhangs, glaring into the night

The sound of masonry falling shattered the silence. His eyes darting about, the fur inched further into the opening, leaving himself half covered by the wall, and reached under his longcoat, hefting the black, mean looking heavy automatic in his paws and waiting.

He didn't have to wait long! Several meters away from him a small form burst out from cover and scampered across the square, staggering at one stage and almost falling, but recovering and resuming its dash for the safety of the Temple. From just below him a roar echoed throughout the building, and a large, bat-winged monstrosity exploded into the open, its tree trunk legs slamming down into the ground, propelling it forward at a much greater rate of movement than the hapless figure ahead.

Despite the number of times he had engaged these things, and the missions he undertook, the fur still recoiled in shock, his heart thumping wildly in his chest at the sudden appearance of the demon. Adrenaline flooding his bloodstream, the fur stood and moved into the opening completely, sighting down the ridge of his pistol, holding it two handed in front of him, bracing himself, and squeezing the trigger.

The muzzle flashed bright blue in the darkness, recoil surging down the furs arms, to dissipate into his shoulders and chest. It took a sturdy grip and experience to wield such a gun, and this fur had both in abundance. Even so, the gun bucked and lifted slightly, though it made little difference, the fur having taken that into consideration and adjusted his origional sighting to compensate.

The bullet ploughed into the back of the demon's head, throwing it forward and slamming it face first into the concrete! The figure glanced back but did not break its pace. A crack of light appeared in the Temple front, doors opening to admit the strangefur. A handful of figures spewed out of the door, bringing weapons to bear, a few furs to the back beginning to take on a white luminescent aura as they brought their faith to bare.

The demon stood unsteadily and turned slowly, gazing with baleful eyes, aglow with eldritch green flame, swiftly catching sight of the fur in the opening directly above where it had been hiding. Its maw opened and a horrifying screech sounded, shattering the night air like a pane of glass shattering on a hard floor! Then it lurched forward, its talons begining to flicker with noxious green flames as it drew upon the powers demonic.

The fur stood as he was, pistol outstretched, breathing easily, regarding the approaching demon with a bemused look. Slowly the corner of his mouth rose in a mocking grin as he squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, in quick succession, riding the recoil with ease.

The first and second bullets each struck home in each of the demon's eyes, blinding it, while the third drilled a large hole straight through its forehead and into the grey matter beyond. The demon staggered forward a few steps, stumbled, fell to its knees and rocked back and forth a few times. The pistol snarled once again, the fourth bullet driving deep into its chest and knocking it over onto its back. Wisps of ephemeral green energy wafted up out of each of the wounds, dissippating in the night air. Soon the demon's body began to dissolve into a luminescent cloud of green vapour, until nothing remained but a charred patch on the concrete.

The fur holstered the gun and clambered down the wall, which offered countless pawholds. Jumping off at the bottom, the fur strolled casually towards the Temple, where the figures still stood, watching the surroundings with caution. Of the strangefur, there was no sight, having obviously reached the sanctuary of the Temple insides.

As he drew close to the seven furs standing around the entrance, one, a middle-aged anthro male tiger named Katar stepped forward, a large assault rifle clutched in his paws, his camo pants and sleeveless vest brimming with ammo clips, a combat knife and a heavy revolver attached comfortably at his right side.

"Evening, Hunter!" he growled, slapping the other fur on the shoulder. "Good shooting."

"Thanks," the wolf growled in return and stepped past, walking into the Temple without offering any greeting or acknowledgement to the other furs.

Katar turned to follow the wolf's progress, a sigh escaping his lips as an 18 year old male blue-white husky slid closer to the tiger. "Not very friendly, is he?"

Katar looked at the younger fur and ruffled his headfur, his voice tinged with sadness as he spoke. "That fur has known more hardship than the rest of us put together. I just wish he would open himself up. If he keeps himself closeted off from the rest of us..." he shook his head, "...then that self inflicted solitude he wears as armour will drag him down.

"Come, lets go back inside, Marc." The tiger rested a paw on the husky's shoulder and guided him back inside, the doors closing securely behind them, the sound reverberating through the hall beyond.

Massive pillars, etched with arcane runes, stood along both sides of the flagstone floor hall, which measured 15 meters by 25, and which ended at a spiral staircase leading both up and down. Two doors rested between the pillars on each side, the ceiling curved and crisscrossed with oak beams, from which hung braziers which gave off a soothing orange light. A subtle hint of lavender wafted down from the braziers.

Off to the left, a pair of brown robed foxes tended to the strangefur, a female squirrel, who was now sitting on a carved wooden bench, shaking slightly as the acolytes tended to her, offering support and peace in soothing tones.

One of the doors opened and a hush fell upon the furs present. The wolf, who had begun to climb the stairs, stopped and turned his head, and a low snarl escaped his drawn lips, his fangs gleaming in the light, his eyes flashing with a wildfire born of rage.

Three furs stepped through the door and entered the hall. The first was a large bovine, who stalked towards the squirrel, flanked on either side by cold-eyed ferrets who were clad in black pants and tunics, a steel shoulder plate tied to their left shoulders, emblazoned in crimson with the sign of the Inquisition, a sword dripping blood, the same insignia that was emblazoned on the backs of their tunics. Pistols were holstered at their sides, though their primary means of offense and defence was their occultic prowess.

The bovine wore a black tabard over black pants and long sleeved shirt, the Inqusition symbol sewn into both the front and back of the tabard in blood red thread. A black belt lined with silver studds tied around his waist, holding both a heavy pistol on one hip, and a silver handled broadsword at the other, the scabbard black and marked again in crimson with the Inquision insignia. The furs eyes were cold and hard, his face seemingly frozen in a mask of impatience and self righteous fervour.

"Who are you?" the bovine asked as he came to stand with black gloved paws resting on his hips in front of the squirrel and the two acolytes.

One of the foxes stood and said:"She is..."

"SILENCE!"

The fox jumped and paled and staggered back, his head hung low. The rest of the furs save the two ferrets and the wolf jumped as well, the snarl echoing around the hall before fading into silence.

"When I want you to answer a question, I shall ask YOU!" the bovine snapped, glaring with derision at the fox. He turned back to the squirrel and without changing the tone of his voice, growled:"I ask again. Who...are...you?"

The squirrel looked up through eyes wide with fright, her lip trembling as she struggled against the sobs tearing at her from inside. "I...I...mmm...my..."

"BY THE GODS!" the bovine roared. "I AM SURROUNDED BY IMBECILES!"

"Cut her some slack, you pompous fuck!"

The silence that fell was laden with tension, and all furs present felt their muscles sieze up, each knowing the explosion that would soon follow.

The bovine blinked, taken by surprise that anyfur would DARE speak to him in such a tone! Then his eyes narrowed and he turned to face his aggressor. The wolf glared at the Inquisitor from five meters behind, his fur bristling, lips drawn back in a snarl, paws clenched into fists at his side.

"YOU!" the bovine snarled and stalked up to the wolf, staring down at him, for the bovine was two hands taller than the wolf. "What did you just say?"

"Ah, deaf as well as arrogant! Senile dementia, perhaps, Malvernus?"

The furs grimaced and found themselves shaking, partly from the tensions running through their taught muscles, mostly from fear. The bovine growled and clenched his fists, the two ferrets taking position on either side, paws resting on blasters, scowling menacingly at the wolf.

"I am High Inquisitor Malvernus! You would best learn to remember that, Hunter." The venom in those words could have killed off all the demon invaders by itself!

"Really?" the wolf grinned humourlessly, sarcasm dripping off every syllabel. "All I see is a fucked up bullyboy who'd be better at home with those demon scum than inside these walls!" The last sentance came out in a feral snarl.

A united gasp arose from the furs.

"HERESY!" Malvernus yelled, stabbing a finger into the wolf's chest. "Hunter!" the bovine grinned evily, "Your words are heresy. That brands you heretic!" A fanatical flame flared in the the Inquisitor's eyes. "By your own words do you proclaim yourself heretic! Tainted by the demon hordes you are! You are damned, Hunter. You shall NOT spread your evil in this Temple! And heresy is punishable only by DEATH!"

"Get fucked!"

"EXECUTE HIM NOW!" Malvernus roared and stepped backwards, the two ferrets drawing their sidearms...and stopping as Hunter's pistol cleared leather before theirs, the wolf sliding forward and ramming the pistol under the bovine's nose, finger tightening on the trigger, his whole body quivering as he glared hatefully at the other fur.

By the gods, these kinds of furs fucked him off completely! Hunter shook within as well as without, the self-righteous arrogance of this fur nipping at him constently during the four months he had been here, watching as he paraded up and down with his air of authority, his totalitarian demeanor snearing down in derision upon everyfur he came into contact with, and sprouting those damned irritating sermons about the power of his will and faith over the darkness, and that it be better for a million innocents die than let one infest the others with the heretical lies of the legions demonic.

The thought of pulling the trigger and watching Malvernus's brain blown out the back of his skull tempted the wolf like nothing had before, and his lips twisted into a wicked smile.

"Cease this insanity!"

The voice was soothing, and washed over everyfur present like a wave of relief. Malvernus looked over the wolf's shoulder at the approaching badger, his facial fur grey with age as he shuffled forward in his hooded white robes, leaning on a carved cedar staff for support. He came to stand alongside Malvernus and Hunter, and laid his paw gently on the wolf's gun paw, slowly pushing it down.

Hunter still shook physically, still glaring in anger at Malvernus, who did so in turn. The ferrets hesitated with the arrival of this newcomer to the scene, and then holstered their weapons.

"What is this madness, Hunter?"

"THIS WHELP IS..."

A simple glance from the old fur stopped the bovine dead in his tracks, and he hastilly swallowed the next words before flashing an evil glare at the badger, before stepping back and crossing his arms. Hunter grinned victoriously as he noticed the bovine shivering, his near brush with a bullet in the head shaking the "omnipotent" fur to his very core.

"Hunter?"

The wolf spun his pistol in his paws and slapped it home in the holster with a deft twist, then turned to face the elder fur, his eyes still flashing anger. "As always, Simeon, that...that...fur...has no compassion."

"Compassion is a weakness! In these times of war we cannot afford such petty luxuries!"

"Compassion is no luxury! Its a kindness shown to others, a healing word or glance or touch in dark times!" Hunter snapped, turning back to face the Inquisitor.

"SILENCE!" the old badger, Simeon, growled, and both Malvernus and Hunter started. The badger looked over at the squirrel quivering in fear on the bench and shook his head.

"Malvernus, you have yet to learn what it truly means to be a fur of faith. Despite your power and will and knowledge, you still have far to travel. And Hunter, you are too rash, too hotheaded. You have a sharp mind and good brain. Try and think before you act."

Malvernus grunted at the reproach, while the wolf lowered his eyes in shame. Simeon walked over to the squirrel, his words calm. "Rest easy, young one. You shall come to no harm in the Temple."

Malvernus grunted. "We must always be on our guard against the darkness! Lest we fall completely to the shadows which seek to steal what light is left in this world, we must harden ourselves against weakness and traitors!" At this the bovine shot a searing glance at Hunter, who narrowed his eyes and snarled under his breath.

"Yes, Malvernus," Simeon said, as though speaking to a child. "But that does not mean we must be cold and uncaring. There is enough hardship in this world without us adding to the fear beyond these walls. Come, Malvernus. See if this young one is an agent of darkness or merely a frightened fur seeking succour."

Malvernus strode over to the squirrel maid, who began trembling at his approach.

"Hush, little one," Simeon smiled, patting her head with his free paw. The aura of calm and trust that always surrounded the fur flowed over the squirrel and banished the fear from her heart.

Malvernus came to stand in front of her and placed a paw on her forhead, staring into her eyes, peering past the outer shell and into the depths of her soul. What he found was no demon taint coiled within, waiting to strike, but confusion and fear and heartache and more fear.

"She is untainted!" the bovine grunted and spun on his heel and strode back over to the wolf. "And you, whelp! Your words are treacherous. Grant me your paw!"

*Fuck...you!"

"BY THE GODS, MAGGOT! GIVE ME YOUR PAW AND SUBMIT TO THE TEST!"

The wolf crossed his arms and glared back at the enraged bovine. "Suck_my_cock!"

Malvernus snapped, lashing out with a meaty fist. Hunter leapt back, but not fast enough, as the edge of the Inquisitor's paw caught his chin, snapping his head back and sending him realing backwards. The wolf recovered in time to catch the second blow in his stomach. The air whooshed out of his muzzle and he collapsed to the floor, gasping in deep lungfuls, as Malvernus sneared down at him, raising his fist to drive it into the back of Hunter's neck.

A firm paw grasped the bovine's, and stopped the blow. Malvernus spun around, nostrils flaring as he glared at Simeon. "He brought this upon himself, old fur! Teach your mongrels the meaning of respect to their elders! I DEMAND HE SUBMIT TO THE TEST!"

Hunter gulped in eager breaths of air, his jaw aching from the glancing blow. His stomach, too, hurt. He knew combat, had fought against demons and furs alike, but Malvernus carried much strength in that frame of his. Groaning in pain, the wolf heard Malvernus's heated words to Simeon and shuddered as a spasm of fear rode through him.

"No, Malvernus. He shall not face the test." Again, the old badger spoke calmly and easily.

"WHAT!"

"He need not take the test, Malvernus. I vouch for him. And if you wish to prove to yourself the validity of my statement, then I shall submit to the test." The badger held out his paw, which Malvernus looked at incredulously.

Then he snatched up the paw and stared deep into the badger's eyes, the windows to the soul. And within, he found no trace of demon taint. He grinned inwardly. While he was here, he might as well search further...for who knew where darkness could be lurking! He began probing the badgers mind, searching for any information or knowledge that could be seen at heresy! And in particular, any information about the whelp Hunter!

Malvernus groaned suddenly and staggered back, clutching his head.

"That is not part of the test, Malvernus," Simeon growled softly, voice showing signs of anger. "You have found me without demon taint. Do you accept my vouch?"

The bovine nodded, then spun and stalked towards one of the doors, with a simple gesture flinging it open before him, the two ferrets scurrying hurriedly after their master.

Simeon walked over to the wolf, who had risen to his feet, clutching his stomach and shifting his jaw back and forth, satisfying himself that nothing was broken. "Come see me in my chambers in half an hour, Hunter."

The wolf swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes flashing fear and embarresment. "Yes, Father."

Simeon smiled warmly and laid a paw on the wolf's shoulder, squeezing softly, reasuringly. Then he turned to hold out his paw to the squirrel, who walked slowly over to him, growing in confidence as the old badgers smile worked is own special magic over her. Then, the youngster's paw in his own, he led her off to find some dry clothes and hot food.

Hunter waited for the old fur to leave, then he turned abruptly and stalked over to the staircase, mounting the steps two at a time, eyes fixed on the floor as he strode defiantly to his room, turning the doorknob and thrusting the door open, stepping swiftly inside and closing it roughly. Only then did he lean back against the door and slide to a sitting position on the floor, feeling his heart pounding and the distinct taste of fear in his saliva.

Once his heart had returned to its normal rhythm, the wolf stood and shed his clothes, leaving them bundled on the floor, pooled around his footpaws. Stepping away from them and into the small bathroom, he slid into the shower and pawed on the hot water, sighing as it bit into his fur, filling the stall with steam, restoring warmth to his cold limbs.

How long he stayed in there he did not know, for he opened his eyes and knew that some time had gone by. The hot water lanced at his body, and he snapped the stream off, shaking his body, water flying in glistening drops from him. That done, he stepped out and began toweling off, stepping over to the furdryer and snapping it on, standing there, adjusting the nozzle as warm air blasted his fur dry.

Feeling suddenly the urge to relieve himself, he stood before the toilet bowl and unleashed his stream, throwing back his head and sighing as his kidneys emptied. Bathed and relieved, the golden-brown wolf stepped back into his room and pulled a pair of black trousers and a black sweatshirt from the cupboard, donning them quickly and leaving the room.

Strolling down the passage, past several doors, he stopped before one and raised his paw to knock, when a voice from inside came through to him:"Enter, Hunter."

Taking a quick, deep breath, the wolf entered, closing the door softly behind him. Simeon sat behind an oak desk, laden with writing material and a small, ornate lamp, three walls bearing shelves straining under their load of books. A door set into one of the side walls, framed by the shelves, would lead to the old fur's private chambers, a room Hunter knew which would be the same size as the rest of the room's in the Temple. Small, but with enough room to hold bed, cupboard, desk and some free space for pacing, or, in the wolf's case, exercise.

"Sit," the badger smiled, gesturing at the carved wooden chairs before the desk, and the wolf sat, paws in his lap, eyes boring a hole into the desk surface, unable to make eye contact with the aged Abbot.

"You walk a thin line, my friend."

Hunter nodded, yet did not lift his gaze, which had now settled upon a pen.

"Malvernus is dangerous, and powerful. I'm not sure who he hates more, you, or the demons without!" The badger sighed and stood, and came to stand behind the wolf, resting a paw on either shoulder. "You're giving him more ammunition each time you confront him. One of these days, Hunter, I will not be able to intercede."

The wolf nodded. "I...I know, Father. But his arrogance, and his total inconsideration for others is too much!"

"I agree with you, Hunter. But he is also Inquistion, and that gives him certain...leeways. He can act as he wishes, because he is Inquisition."

"It isn't right, Father," the wolf growled, turning his head at last to meet the gentle gaze of the elder fur.

"I know, pup. I know. But there is little we can do...for their power is too great. The Inquistion has garnered many new followers, and all are caught up in the fantatical zeal inspired by the High Inquisitors and their agents. They hold sway over others of religious faith by fear, for while we fight on the same side, their fanaticism means that they will turn on us should we go against them. For too long we have allowed them to grow in power. Now, we see the error of our ways. They have become the new authority. I do not lead here, Hunter. Not anymore. I remain because of the loyalty of the Templars. Malvernus knows that he cannot oust me just like that. He would have an uprising on his paws...and that would mean devoting less time to demon hunting and more time to quelling this insurrection."

A low growled rumbled up from the wolf's throat. "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I. Nor do those still loyal to the Templar code. We play a game here, Hunter. Politics have woven their insidious ways into the weave of our way of life, and the spin of thread is too far, too deeply interwoven, to be simply cut away. And so we wait, as they do, each biding our time."

"For what?" Hunter asked.

Simeon sighed. "If only I knew. But enough of this. How was your night?"

The wolf hung his head. "Hard. As usual."

"Do you want to talk?"

The wolf shook his head. "No, not right now, Father. Thank you, but..."

"It's ok, my young friend. You are tired. Get some rest."

The soothing voice eased into the wolf's body and he smiled gratefully and stood, leaving the room. The old Abbot sat down in his chair, watching the door for long minutes, his mind swirling with thoughts and old memories.

~*~

THE chamber was richly decorated. A large study, rich mahogany desk surrounded by bookshelves neatly packed with tomes and books. The carpet was thick, and muffled pawsteps. The air smelt subtly of incense, which tickled the nostrils with each breath. Behind the desk, set onto an ornate wrought iron rack on the wall, hung a massive broadsword, and at each side leather holsters, each holding a large, grim looking auto pistol. To the side, another door lead into another richly furnished room, complete with four poster bed and red drapes.

Malvernus allowed the two ferrets to close the door before spinning on them, roaring in outrage. "That FUCKING WHELP! HOW DARE HE TREAT ME SO?"

The ferrets started and trembled, their gazes going immediately to the floor as the bovine Inquisitor stormed around his study, snarling and swearing. His meaty fist slammed home into the desktop, and the ferrets jumped.

"GET OUT!"

The furs scurried out the door, shutting it swiftly behind them, leaving Malvernus alone. The bull sat down heavily in his chair and took a couple of deep breaths. Calming himself, he let his mind relax, felt his heartbeat steady out, felt the blood cooling down in his veins. Then, his mind clear, he began to focus, allowing everything else to fade into nothingness, clsoing his eyes and casting his mind outwards, through the door, down the passage, past the two ferrets, and into each corner, each room, each stairwell, searching for traitors. Searching for insurrectionists. Searching for the wolf called Hunter.

He found the fur in the Abbot's chambers, sitting with the old badger standing behind him. A snarl of derision slipped from his mouth as he left them, for though he could see, he could not hear what was being said.

His mind's eye wondered the halls and rooms of the Temple, finding naught but sleeping furs and vigilant guards. Then, in a small room, he stopped and watched, and a broad smile settled over his features. Opening his eyes, he roared for the ferrets, who stumbled hastily into the room, received their orders, saluted and left, leaving Malvernus grinning, stretching his legs forward and putting his arms behind his neck.

If he could not have Hunter, he would unleash his righteous fury on another, deserving fur. Like the one he had just found.

~*~

The wolf snapped awake a moment before the first paw pounded on his door. Jumping out of his bed he slid over to the door and wrenched it open, staring out into Katar's eyes. There was fear in there, and anger, but mostly fear.

"What is it?"

"Malvernus has called a Gathering. He...Marc's in danger." The tiger shivered physically.

Hunter nodded once and spun around, snatching up his trousers and shirt and slippng them on, pulling on his boots and donning his jacket, as an afterthought slapping his holster and pistol onto his belt.

"Let's go," the wolf growled.

Hunter regarded the tiger's face as they hurried along the passages. The tiger and Marc were always close, simply for the fact that Marc was an orphan, and Katar had taken the husky under his paw. They were best friends, and more, almost like family. He could smell the fear rising off the tiger's striped fur, and his heart went out to him.

They stepped at last into the Chapel, where all Gatherings were held. Set in the centre of the Temple, the cavernus Chapel held an altar at one end, and rows upon rows of benches, for the faithful to sit or kneel. The walls held several alcoves set with stained glass, depicting Templars in battle, helping others, healing others, in prayer, or raising their paws to the skies. Light set behind the glass gave the impression of light streaming through from outside.

Most of the furs had already gathered and were seated. Simeon sat behind the altar, with Malvernus standing in front of it, his ever present lackeys on either side of the altar, gazing arrogantly across the assembled furs.

The husky, Marc, was kneeling before Malvernus, shivering, wearing only his pyjama trousers, his torso bare. When it seemed that all furs were gathered, save those of guard, Malvernus raised his paws.

"To survive the darkness, we must be strong, we must cut out weakness from our midst, tear it out if needs be, for our weakness is their strength! By giving them strength, we fail ourselves and each other. This cannot be. This will not be. I shall not allow it!"

The bovine's voice boomed around the Chapel.

"We have before us a weak link. NO! More than that! He is defiled! He is unworthy of sitting with us, unworthy of being in our midst! He is a weakness, and he shall NOT taint us with his unholy nature!"

Hunter growled softly, his paw itching to draw gunmetal.

"Marc, you are unfit to be before us. This Gathering has been called to expel you from our midst! Forever!"

A murmer swept through the furs like brushfire, and Katar stepped forward, growling softly. Simeon stood and stepped forward, but Malvernus spun around and raised a paw, snarling at the Abbot.

"NO, old fur! You shall not sway my decision. Mine is the power here, now. This is MY jurisdiction, this matter before us! If you go against me...then you go against the light!"

Tension spun its weave into the atmosphere, spinning so tightly that the air could be cut with a knife. Danger hung from those weaves, ready and waiting for the signal to fall. And all present knew it.

Anger flashed through the badger's eyes, but he could do nothing. He knew it. All present knew it. He bowed slightly and sat back down, digging his claws into the armrest of his chair.

Malvernus grinned evily, victoriously, and turned to thrust an accusing finger at the cowering canine. "You, FAGGOT, are banned from our midst! Take your perverted self and consign yourself to whence you came. From the darkness!"

Hunter's snarl caught in his throat and he stumbled back a step, not sure he heard correctly. Marc was gay? Katar too, looked equally stunned. As did most of those present. Then Malvernus' followers took up their chant, their words echoing about the Chapel.

"Banish him. Banish him. Banish him!"

Marc looked over his shoulder at the furs chanting, at those sitting stunned, tears spilling from his eyes, shaking violently, fear etched into every feature, his ears pinned back as he hugged himself for comfort, a comfort which did not come.

"This fur is GAY! What use is he to us? My word stands! You_are_banished!" As he spoke, Malvernus reached back and took hold of the massive broadsword strapped at his back, and drew it smoothly, holding it up high, gazing in awe at the blade, at the shimmering surface as light refracted from it. Then he turned his gaze back to the young fur before him. "So say..."

A loud ROAR filled the Chapel, then a sharp SNAP as the broadsword blade snapped in two, leaving only four inches of steel rising from the hilt. All present watched the other half of the blade fall as if in slow motion to the floor, CLATTERING loudly as it hit, then all eyes turned to gaze in surprise, in awe, in consternation, in outrage, at the wolf standing at the far end of the Chapel, auto-pistol clenched in one paw, smoke writhing up from the barrel, his eyes aflame, lips pulled back in feral snarl.

"Marc, come to me." The wolf's voice rang clearly through the Chapel, and the husky hesitated only a few seconds before clambering to his footpaws and making his way slowly, fearfully, towards the wolf.

Outrage replaced the shock on Malvernus' face and he screamed in fury:"STOP THAT WHELP!"

The two ferrets stepped swiftly forward, but Hunter's pistol snarled twice more, the furs shuddering at the retort, Katar wincing as he watched the wolf's arm muscles rippled from the recoil. Bullets ploughed into the stone at the feet of each ferret, stopping them dead in their tracks.

"Congratulations, Malvernus. You seem to have won. But I GIVE you this victory. Lets face it, thats the only way you could ever have bested me!"

Malvernus spluttered and stepped forward, but stopped as Hunter moved his aim, the pistol glaring threateningly at the bovine's head. Marc sprinted down the aisle to move behind Katar, the tiger kneeling to rest his large paws on the husky's shoulders.

"Are you going to stand against me, in front of these furs?" Malvernus asked.

"No. I have more sense than that. I will not give you ammuntion against me."

"WHAT! You already have, whelp! You threaten me, open fire on me, open fire on my assisstants, disrupt these proceedings...the list goes on and on! You have once and for all declared yourself traitor!"

"No, Malvernus. You've declared yourself that! I said before, I say again, the only difference between you and the beasts beyond these walls is the fact that you wear fur, not scales!"

A murmer of shock ran through the assembled again, and all watched in fearful anticipation of what would happen next.

"I cannot stop you from banishing this fur, you fucked up old maggot! But I shall not stand by and let you cast an innocent into the maw of hell. Hmmm...as I recall...worshippers of darkness used to do just that...cast aside the innocent to their vile masters!"

The Inquisitor roared in fury and he stormed forward, flinging aside his useless sword and charging headlong down the aisle. The wolf calmly sighted down his pistol, finger tightening on the trigger, his lips parting in a grim smile as the bull stormed right up to him and hurled himself forward, arms outstretched, spittle flying from his mouth as his maddened eyes fixed on the wolf's face.

Hunter spun around, stepping sideways and spinning around again, bringing the butt of his pistol across in a stunning arc to connect solidly with the Inquisitor's nose. Bone crunched, blood spattered as the bull's head rocked backwards and he arched his back, falling hard to the ground backwards, the sound of his body striking the floor echoing solidy throughout the Chapel.

Looking into the tiger's eyes, Hunter smiled softly. "I'll keep him safe, Katar."

The tiger nodded, understanding all too well the situation. Marc was outcast now, as was the wolf. But at least now the husky had a protector, somefur who would be there for him in the outside world. Katar's heart tore at the aspects of his life pulling him in separate directions: his devotion to the Templar order, and his devotion to his charge.

Choking back a sob, he hugged the husky to him, Marc wrapping his arms around him in turn, sharing a quick, final embrace, before stepping over to Hunter's side and taking the wolf's offered paw.

Malvernus shook his head groggily and looked up as Hunter levelled the pistol directly between his eyes, and in those amber eyes the Inquisitor saw his death. Around him those loyal to his cause were jumping to their feet in outrage, paws diving for weapons. Simeon leaning on the alter, gazing sadly across at the situation.

Then the air shimmered around the wolf and husky, and they blurred and were gone, and confusion reigned in the Chapel, and a bovine whose pride was bruised and bloodied, whose reputation had been taken down by the wolf's actions. And hatred burned in that fur's soul.

~*~

THE sound of rain falling steadly on rooftiles, the steady fall of water from a broken gutter to the street below. Darkness, the night sky sheathed behind dark, rolling clouds. Silence, apart from heavy breathing in a corner, and muffled sobs.

Marc wiped away the tears rolling from his eyes as he watched the huddled form of his defender fearfully, hearing the gasping, wheezing breaths coming from the shivering wolf before him. He clutched at himself, shivering in turn from cold and fear, eyeing the shadows nervously, expecting them to explode in gnashing fangs and cold demonic eyes.

Slowly the wolf's breathing steadied, and he pushed himself up into a sitting postion. Shaking his head, he took time to compose himself, took time to allow his shaking to stop, feeling the strength flowing back into his arms and legs, feeling the warmth of his blood coursing through his body. His eyes came to rest on the shadowy figure in the corner in front of him, and he slipped off his jacket and handed it to him.

Marc took it gratefully and pulled it on, sighing happily at the warmth of it, the wolf's scent gliding into his nostrils, and he found himself drawing a deep breath of wolf scent from the jacket. He caught himself and stopped, and looked up at the wolf, scared.

"W...why did you do that? For me."

"You didn't deserve that. And...and it felt good, taking that arrogant fuck down!" Hunter snarled.

Marc flinched, then chuckled softly. "Y...yeah. That was pretty g...good."

Hunter smiled warmly at the fur, his night vision taking into account the frightend husky sitting before him, the uncertainty and fear in his eyes. The husky looked back, seeing in turn the compassion and sadness in the wolf's. And...and something else. Something...unknown. Something he had never before seen.

Marc looked around, then back at the wolf. "How did we get here?"

"I transported us."

Marc stared in awe at the wolf. "Transported? I...I know some Templars gain powers, but...but isn't teleportation...um...well..."

Hunter gazed at the husky as his voice trailed off, and the canine eyes stared back at him now with fear. He nodded slowly. "Yes. It is a demonic trait...but I do not possess that power. In my travels I have seen and come across many things, one of which is an item of power, taken from demon clutches, which I use when the need arises. It is an artefact, demon crafted, yes...but not evil. Simply...a tool...in this battle we wage."

Hunter stood and walked over to a doorway, stopping to look back at the husky. "Come with me."

Marc hesitated a moment, then stood and padded after the whole, ears twitching, searching for any sound of danger, sniffing the air tentatively, his eyes darting to and fro, scanning the shadows, striving to find anything that may be lurking within them. He followed the wolf to a small room, faint light coming in through a small hole in the wall. He watched Hunter bend and take hold of something, then lift, and silently a hatch was pulled open. The wolf nodded for him to descend.

Fear clutched at his heart as he stepped forward and knelt, feeling around and finding a ladder. He began the descent, the fur standing on the base of his neck as he imagined dark talons reaching out from the darkness around him, clutching him, sinking deep into his flesh, pulling him from the ladder into a horde of blood crazed fiends adorned with gnashing fangs and gleaming eyes of eldritch fire.

He jumped as his paw hit solid ground, then Hunter descended, closing the hatch, plunging them into pitch blackness. Marc held his breath, scared that it might give away his position, hoping that if he did nothing, made no sound, nothing would find him. A deadbolt was drawn across the hatch with a solid CLANG!, and Marc jumped again, shivering in fright.

Light flared, and he abruptly covered his eyes with his paws, blinking till he got used to the lumination. He looked around, finding a small square room, formerly a cellar, the only exit the hatch. Against one wall a pallet, with a mattress and blankets and a pillow. A green metal, army issue chest stood at the base of the pallet. There was a table and chair across from the pallet. A small cupboard rested next to the table. And alongside the pallet a simple battery powered lamp, which Hunter had snapped on

Marc glanced up at the hatch, then at Hunter. "Won't...won't the light...um..."

Hunter smiled softly and shook his head. "No. This is a haven, one of a half dozen i've set up around the city. Light will not escape. Nor will sound. It is warded." He pointed behind Marc, who turned to find an arcane rune intricately carved into the stone, several smaller runes surrounding it. "That is also what prevented me from teleporting into here. You're safe here, Marc."

The husky nodded, then stepped forward, and suddenly his vision vanished under a barrage of tears that came unbidden to his eyes, and he staggered forward and slumped to his knees, burying his face in his paws and crying loudly.

Hunter's face softened and he stepped forward to place a paw on the husky's shoulder, but Marc flinched and moved back, looking up with pain filled eyes, peering through tears. "No...I...I'm not worth it. I'm gay. I'm...useless. An...an abomination." And he hung his head and wept bitterly, his tears falling to the floor, onto his knees. His body racked with sobs, Marc knelt there and cried as never he had before.

"I'm an outcast. Everyfur hates me for what I am. Why did I have to be gay?"

"Not all hate you, Marc."

The husky raised his head and barked angrily, flame sparking in his eyes. "Oh, no? They all wanted me out. They chanted it!"

Hunter knelt in front of him and gazed intently into his eyes. "Not everyone. Katar doesn't hate you. I don't hate you. Simeon doesn't hate you. And there are a number of others who don't. The..."

Marc shook his head violently. "What do you know? You speak for Father Simeon now, huh? How do you know they don't hate me?"

"For one, Marc, the look in Katar's eyes. That was not of hate, but of love, of caring, of affection. Simeon is accepting of gays. He doesn't mind them, he would never hold that against somefur. And I know he wouldn't, and doesn't...because...because he doesn't hold it against me."

Marc blinked in surprise. "Wha? Y...you're...?"

"Yes. I'm gay."

Marc stared at the wolf in front of him, his tears momentarily forgotten. Then he flung himself against Hunter, hugging him tight, and the wolf wrapped his arms around the frightened fur and held him in turn, letting the husky cry into his shoulder as he gently nuzzled his neck.

"We choose our own paths. No other fur should tell us how to lead our lives, save that it be honourably, that it be good. We are gay, so what? That makes us no worse than any other, nor any better. Well, actually, it does make us better, most of us, because we know the values of understanding, acceptance. Most straight furs are arrogant, bigoted and ignorant. But we are not as they...we would never fall to their level. There are some exceptions, yes...but mostly...no.

"Never think that you are less because you prefer to lie with another male. That you find males attractive. It is how we live our lives that counts, not what we live them as."

Long minutes passed before Marc stopped crying. Hunter looked down at his the younger fur, and heard the steady breathing, and smiled warmly. The husky had nodded off against him, the warmth of his body, the closeness of another fur like him, the comfort and protection he gleaned from the wolf's embrace lulling him into sleep, taking away the pains of the last hour.

Hunter picked the husky up and carried him over to the pallet, using his footpaw to pull aside the sheets and tucking him in, removing the jacket, leaving the tracksuit pants on. As he dropped the jacket, his eyes took in the other fur's form, his arms, the muscles, his physique, the chest rising and falling softly, the face. How attractive Marc looked, at peace like this.

Hunter shook his head and shed his clothes, leaving his underwear on, sliding in next to Marc, who in his sleep turned and wrapped his arms around Hunter, laying his head on his chest, and the wolf held the canine close and planted a kiss against his head, breathing in his scent deeply, savouring it, then reaching out to snap off the light, sliding his pistol beneath the pillow, and closing his eyes.

He had looked upon various males in the Temple appreciatively before. Katar and Marc had both appealed to him, as had several others, but he dared not reveal his secret, only Simeon knew it. Not that he was scared of Malvernus. That arrogant fuck could take a flying leap for all he cared. But the comraderie of the Templars, for once belonging somewhere, he did not want to give it up.

And for this fur he had. Why? A simple answer, really, the wolf huffed to himself. Because nofur deserved what Marc had just gone through. While the Temple was like a home to him, he could not have stayed knowing that this fur had been kicked out for being gay, yet he remained.

And again his thoughts turned to how attractive the fur looked. The closeness to another gay set his blood racing, and he felt himself stiffen beneath his white briefs. He sighed, and tried to fall asleep.

"Hunter?"

The wolf opened his eyes, and found himself looking into Marc's. "Yes?"

"Thank you, Hunter. It...it means a lot to me. I...I don't...thank you. Thank you."

Hunter smiled reasuringly. "Hey, Marc, its ok. I..."

Hunter found the husky straddling him suddenly, and then he tasted the canine's tongue dancing over his own, their muzzles locked together as Marc kissed him deeply, and he replied in kind, his paws running up and down the husky's back as he kissed passionately, sucking softly on the husky's lips, running his tongue over Marc's teeth, their tongues dueling as they shared this moment of intimacy.

The wolf found himself growing hard at the contact, and soon he was rigid beneath his briefs, and pressing against Marc's thigh, who shifted, and he felt Marc's own hardness pressing back against his own.

Heat surged through him, and emotions and lust, desire, need. They swirled around his head in a potent mixture that tore away his inhibitions and brought forth the urgent desire, the urgent need and longing to take this fur in his arms and make love to him, to drive his shuddering cock deep into the firm, tight ass of the other fur, to feel the warmth of his cheeks squeezing against his shaft as he rode...

Hunter shook his head, breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Marc. No. I...I like you..and...and yes, I...I would like to make love to you. But...but not know, not as you now are. Don't give yourself to me because you wan't to pay me back. If...if..."

Marc lay down across his chest, resting his head just under his chin. "Oh, Hunter." And he sobbed softly.

"Oh, gods, Marc...I'm sorry. I..."

"No, Hunter. No. I'm crying because you could have taken me...but you didn't. You didn't want me messing up my first time with somefur. A fur with less honour would have ridden me tonight, regardless of why or what had prompted me to...to throw myself at them." He looked up into Hunter's compassionate eyes and kissed the wolf gently. "Thank you."

"You're tired. So am I." The wolf chuckled humourlessly. "Let us get some sleep."

"What...what will happen tomorrow?"

"We meet up with true friends, and find you another home, amongst furs who will accept you as gay, or straight, or one leg and three eyes!"

"It..sounds...like a nice place." Marc yawned, snuggling against the wolf's chestfur.

"It is."

Silence, broken only by the restful breathing of two slumbering furs, filled the room. And on a night on pain and heartache, peace came to them, and took them gently into its silken embrace, and wrapped them up and carried them to a golden place of warmth and tranquility.

~*~

THEY had risen rather late in the day, the closeness of another male keeping them in bed longer, binding them with warm and comfy chains to the pallet, secure in each other's arms. They dressed quickly, and in silence, each battling with his own thoughts, but when they looked at each other, when their eyes locked, they smiled, warmly, and held that locked gaze for long moments, before regretfully breaking it.

Hunter pulled out some clothes from the metal locker, some pants, a shirt and jacket, all urban camo except for the shirt, white was beige. Boots and a belt, with a knife and holster, and in that holster a pistol. Nothing as awesome as the cannon the wolf carried, but its clip held fifteen, with one in the breach, and was of high enough caliber to pierce demon scale. Extra clips slid into sockets on the belt, and then they were off.

Marc followed the wolf out of the building, watching him cover the hatch, disguise the place so well that he could not tell there had been a hatch there before. As he followed the wolf cautiously out into the street, he eyes the pants he wore, the way his ass moved under the material, and he sighed happily. When the wolf had slid the belt around his waist, he had held his breath, and he had felt a stirring in his groin.

They slipped quitely and quickly through the vacant buildings, the wolf leading them with certainty, and three times the wolf had pulled him close against him into some shadowy doorway, or alley, as a demon patrol winged its way by. And those three times, Marc felt safe, and warm, and longed to feel the wolf's fur on his own, wished that they wore no clothes to take away the sensation of physical contact.

The wolf and husky came at last after an hour of creeping and hiding and short sprints, to a ruined mall, and within they took shelter in what used to be a sport's store, anything of value long since looted or trashed. And there they waited, for what, Marc did not know.

Footpaws sounded once, then again, then silence. Marc started and drew his pistol, Hunter doing the same. Then the wolf lowered his gun, and bade the husky do the same. And into the shop strode three furs, Simeon, Katar, and a female bear named Cala. Simeon sported only his staff, Katar an assault rifle, pistol holstered at hip. Cala bore a massive heavy machine gun, a belt of ammo looped around a forearm and dissappearing into a backpack. A massive machette hung at her sides, two heavy pistols resting comfortably in shoulder holsters against her black flak jacket.

Marc jumped up and ran across to Katar, who sank to his knees and accepted the flying husky into his arms, embracing him, hugging him tight. Cala winked at Hunter, then took guard at the front of the shop, as Simeon approached him, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"I rounded up some of your things, and some of Marc's."

"What's been happening?"

Simeon sighed. "Malvernus is livid. He's proclaimed you heretic, and his followers will kill you on sight."

"The others?"

"Those true to the Templar code will offer you aid in whatever way they can."

Hunter nodded. "Tell them, thanks. But not to jeapordize themselves for our sake."

Simeon smiled and nodded in turn. "How are you?"

"I'm ok, really." He grinned. "Damn but I so loved putting that fucker down!"

"Yes, I just wish it was me driving my staff down his throat!"

Hunter blinked, as did Katar and Marc, all three staring at Simeon in shock. The badger blinked back and grinned foolishly. "Um...hey, I never claimed to be perfect!"

They broke into laughter at that.

Katar walked over to Hunter and shook his paw. "I...thank you. Marc is like a son to me."

HUnter smiled and shook Katar's paw in turn. "I won't let him down."

Simeon regarded Hunter strangely at that comment, then smiled as realisation dawned.

Marc looked down at his footpaws. "Katar..I...are you upset...um...dissappointed in me?"

"NO!" Katar grolwed, shaking his head. "Not at all. I don't mind if you are gay." He hugged the husky close to his chest. "I just hope one day you will find a mate who is worthy of you."

Marc's eyes flickered over to Hunter, then back to Katar, and he smiled happily and gave the tiger the biggest hug he could manage. Katar looked over at Hunter quizically, then he too, realised what the look Marc had flashed the wolf's way meant. He nodded and smiled, and Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Katar would accept Marc and himself as a couple.

Whoa! Hunter's mind yelled at him. A couple? Where did that come from? And as he looked over at Marc, he realised that he was deeply attracted to him, that he wanted to be with him, to know him better, to...to lie with him at night, to give himself over to him and have in turn the same given to him. Was that love? Was that lust? Or need? Or desire or longing? Was it all the above?

Hunter sighed inwardly. He wished he knew. He didn't want his relationship...well, any possible future relationship with Marc, to be based on mere lust, or something that was not true.

"We must go," Simeon said. "Katar and I will head back to the Temple. We won't be missed, and we will be safe."

Hunter nodded. The secret ways, kept by the Templars. Not even the Inquisition knew of these tunnels that the Templars could use in emergency. And no Templar would ever give that information away, anyway.

Cala came over to them. "Hi, Hunter. Long time no see." And she slapped him heartilly on the back, and the wolf flinched and staggered forward.

He grinned back at her. "Yeah...it has been. You here to escort us?"

She nodded. "Shiren is eager to see you again."

Marc stood at Katar's side, looking up at him. "What will happen to you, to me, to us?"

"I need to stay at the Temple. Simeon needs as many of the faithful with him now. Malvernus might try and pull some powerplay. I would come with you, but..."

Marc nodded and smiled. "I understand, Katar. I...I love you, like the father I never knew."

A tear rolled down the tiger's cheekfur, and he blinked away the next one and hugged the husky close to him. "And I you, as the son I never had. We won't be apart too long. We will alway be in each other's hearts. And we can always meet up. And when the war is over, we need no longer be apart as we are now."

Marc smiled and wiped away a tear from his own eye.

Hunter shook Katar's hand, and embraced the badger. "You need anything, either of you. Find me."

"We will, Hunter," Simeon replied.

Katar chuckled. "And to think it took this for you to open up a bit, eh? I've known you for the last half a year...and still known nothing about you...and in these last few hours I know more about you than before!"

Hunter chuckled. "Yeah. Go figure."

The broke up then, the tiger and Abbot going one way, Cala, Hunter and Marc another. Hearts were both heavy and lifted, at the same time...a strange feeling to be sure. And a wolf and husky walked side by side, and then paw in paw, and a ursine smiled to herself at her companion's behaviour, and a badger spoke of prayers of safety and guidance for them all, and a tiger sighed for loss, and smiled for the fur that now walked with his charge...his adopted son.

What darkness would come, they knew not, but all knew that in each other they would find strength to weather any storm. And gods help those who stood against them.

_This is story written in 1999/2000. It's unedited. I've uploaded it to get a sense of the change in my writing syle between then and now, comparing this against Swim Meet.

Hopefully you'll have enjoyed this first chapter in a series I never got around to finishing.

Comments and suggestions are more than welcome!_