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Love is a Number

by Korpse_Infested_Karnival

(KIK)

Change. That word, in all its childlike simplicity, can have one of the most profound impacts on the daily lives of everyone and everything that takes part in it. It can be frightening. More than likely, it *is* frightening, even for the ones who have decided to outright embrace and accept it. It has no certainty or guarantee it will work, no one-hundred percent absolution that it goes off without a hitch. It's all up in the air when it comes about, and whether it falls with a sickening crack or sublime grace you've yet to see.

And change has happened.

A lot of details to go over when I say that. The rhythms of it were sweeping, a crescendo that lit the world in the song of both hope and dismay, new beginnings and tender tragedy. It's left a lot of broken hearts, a lot of misery, a lot of hurt, I being no exception to the matter. It's caused a nearly entire rewrite on the way the world is now, and its people, because, well, humans aren't the only ones around now, so to speak.

A lot of what I recall about things is blurry and hazy. I remember, though, when Chimeras were a part of what we knew as a human dominated society. If I'm not mistaken, they were around a good few years before I was born, but not respected both legally and equally at the time. To make things quick for you, once something is treated poorly and unfairly, a revolution, whether it is the next second or the next day or the next millennium, is prominent to take place. And that's precisely what occurred: revolts, revolutions, a new age of thinking, a completely unforseen maelstrom that swept up the nation, or nations, actually, like a wildfire. It was that large.

I remember it all, because I remember feeling and being so out of place. For everyone it was one side or the other. Join the pseudo-urban terrorists for human protection, the religious radicals attempting to cleanse the world, the collection of psychopaths out for blood, the converted minds defending the Chimera, the Chimera themselves in their own preset of factions and sub-factions, so on and so forth. You were either with someone or against them, protecting the new-breeds or destroying them, and it had everyone caught in the relapse. It was always on the news. Coverage of what was going on in terms of Chimera or human revolutionists or patriots or whatever. Everywhere. The world was obsessed with this upheaval, for reasons I fully did not understand, a formation of lives adamant on setting the path one way or the other.

As for myself, I barely got into it. Not out of disinterest, mind you, since I was greatly intrigued to meet a Chimera myself. No, not out of that. I just had no fight for it. I was never noticed whilst the city populace tried to tear itself apart for new beginnings and ends. I didn't want to get alongside the violent half of my city-community, which, unfortunately, elected to despise the morphic' Chimera, but I also couldn't join the new-breeds themselves. Why? Lot of reasons. Most were far away from me, so I couldn't move there, while most of the time my own presence was treated with a rather distasteful negligence among some of my quick, brief encounters, obviously out of mistrust for the sapiens guiding this all.

Reluctantly I figured I just wasn't meant for it. Not the most encouraging thing to tell myself, but, I had to accept it.

Sorry. I almost broke off into a tangent there. You probably don't know what I'm talking about. There's a lot of things that don't need to be covered, really, the most important thing was that change did happen, and it turned out for the better. I guess.

The whole thing though has left me with a crushing pallet of misery and mournful burdens. I couldn't live in the city anymore, or return to it, not after what had happened. The sadness just ate at me far too much. What was worse, I had no outlet for it, nor do I really now, so it just percolates and stagnates in my heart while I attempt to forget about those days and move on. And that's how I'm handling things now, I'm moving on, literally.

Okay, hang on, I'm being pretty confusing here. Let me just make it a bit more simple. My name is Lucas Roswell. I've been part of some pretty nasty things, and, as a result, I've moved out of my city home for a smaller, more docile populace, to escape the aches and such. There, that about sums it up.

It was a nice sounding area. "Northmoorse Valley." Honestly, it was the description that got me, very pleasant and genuine sounding. Under the available home ad in the newspaper it read: 'Come join a town of pleasant friendship, with both Chimera and human citizens living together. Enjoy your days in harmony as you are welcomed in this family oriented paradise.' True, a bit simple, but the words "harmony, human, Chimera, and together," all seeped into my mind and made it stick. That was something I'd liked to have seen. People getting along, with something outside their own species, even.

Ironically, stuff like this hadn't even popped up until the new-breeds became full US citizens. I guess their coming of life brought something out in humanity we'd yet to discover about ourselves.

Anyway, about the house. Yes, I'd pretty much been able to land it without much difficulty, seeing as how I'd been given a very large settlement of finances for. . . events, that took place in my life, and the folk I spoke to over the phone did indeed sound very friendly. Rather than traveling a few hundred miles from home just to get a tour, a took an online image sweep of the place, and was immediately satisfied. Really, I didn't care about the state of the place, I just needed somewhere to go, somewhere not to be judged based on the black mark burned into my. . . oh, wait, no need to go there. Besides, if it did need some work, it'd give me something to do, find comfort in rebuilding what I could call my own for such a long time, I had imagined.

So here I am, zipping down this country road in my shabby Ford truck, a simple U-Haul carrying what really little possessions I had to this country commute. I had organized for the rest of my heavy furniture to arrive by its own delivery later in the week, seeing as how going back and forth a good hundred miles, at least a thousand in total, didn't sit right with me. Careful with my right leg on the gas, I took note of the transition that had crept in from the city and into this new life I'd have. It made me smile. More nature than machine was present. Healthy green fields with sweet dewy grass, trees growing together like a fortress of emerald canopies, occasional stand alone houses sprouting up here and there with there Victorian-esque designs and patterns.

Clean air. Healthy sky. Good sun. Kind of made the bitterness of the old days vanish.

I'd keep driving until about the afternoon hit, where I was able to make my first impression of Northmoorse Valley. All was both quiet and alive at the same time. I took a gander at the brick red structure that would be my new house and gave an inward smile.

All ready I felt like saying "home sweet home."

= - = - = - = - =

Getting most of what I had into the brick-red home wasn't too much of a task. The inside had a nice, large living room that detailed itself well with comfort, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a kitchen-dining room kind of hybrid and a garage, while the backyard was a long downward slope leading to the cool murk of a peaceful lake. I had excitedly explored the place by randomly switching lights on and off, turning sinks on, flushing toilets, etc. Kind of making my own fun whilst checking to see if all things were operational and such. Annoying tic of mine. Quite surprisingly, I all ready had a refrigerator too, which normally were evasive in city homes and apartments, so that brought my mood up a pinch. Strange, I know, but I learned to appreciate small things in life, and fast.

All things accounted for, I started unloading the U-Haul of its contents, from the hefty boxes to misaligned clothing to miscellaneous junk I had no recollection of even owning, gathering them up and placing them in the living room for later unpacking. I did bring one slab of furniture with me from the city, an old kitchen table with four sets of chairs, and was careful not to hoist that in just yet. Not only did I have to lift some relatively heavy objects, I had to be vigilant and mindful of my lower right leg, which, I'll let you know, had been shattered and crushed to the point of nearly being amputated. Just because it was still stuck on my torso didn't mean it was as strong as the days long gone. It was also a bugger, since it had a dainty limp that hitched at my waist, which made moving certain objects nearly impossible without some creative ingenuity.

I must have been heavily caught up in my work, shuffling through boxes in the U-Haul, because I didn't hear the soft approach of someone behind me while I attempted to move a chair out of position to get another flank of cardboard.

My reactions to things, nowadays, especially people, are pretty bad. Events that kept me away from society made me forget certain pacifist greetings and friendly hello's to be taken seriously. As such, it's been a tad awkward for those on the receiving end of my antics. Didn't help much that this interloper was a Chimera, either.

"Hey there, you,"

It's kind of odd how three words will set you tumbling when you least suspect them. I somewhat sputtered, jolted, and nearly dropped the box I was holding, shifting my neck to see who had spoken.

A lupine Chimera was resting his arm on the side of the U-Haul frame with a critical smirk tugging at his thin black muzzle-lips. He stood a few inches taller than my height, from what I could see, and he had a set of brown khaki shorts and cloth sandals, no shirt. His fur was pretty much what you'd see in a timber wolf, though his had a much darker flake of grey and the cream color running up his chest was more ash than white. Well, I thought he was of timber wolf make, anyway.

Instinctively, I made sure he hadn't seen the back of my neck, myself turning forward to meet his stare wearily in haste, half-smiling half-flabbergasted.

"Oh, uh. . . hey," I muttered lamely and automatically. Bad start on my count. I could immediately tell I sounded weak to the lupine.

I suppose the fellow disregarded that since his long face didn't react, just kept on smiling. I noticed how his eyes had an eerily crisp yellow to them, or, it was eery to me, since I'd never really been this close for this long to a Chimera.

"Need a hand there, new guy?" he offered, apparently noting how my arms started to shake under the cumbersome weight of the box in my grasp. Timidly, I thought about it. Quite honestly, the old table I had brought with me would have been a nightmare to take in, and, I didn't want to be rude in my own sense. After all, this was supposed to be a town for friends and such, right?

"Oh, okay, uh, yeah. . . you live around here?" I caught that as soon as it blurted from my tongue. Very dumb, very stupid question. My people skills really *had* been dulled over the years. Then again, I did want to be safe. Slight chance the wolf may have been a serial killer, or something, to which I heavily doubted, but I had to be sure.

He nodded with a friendly smile and stepped up in the U-Haul, not really picking anything up until I'd given him an "O.K." for what to take. "Mm-hm. You passed my house about a block or two back. Kinda' hard to see behind all the brush, though," he informed, supposedly referring to a home that was hidden behind a long path and heavy foliage of bushes and trees. He didn't seem to care much that my question was overly obvious.

The lupine looked about at the remains of my stuff, mentally picking off what to carry. "Want me to just grab something?" he asked, now confirmed to me that he was being polite by not simply just taking whatever he felt implied to.

Still making sure the back of my neck remained out of sight, I nodded with a shrug, trying to modify my facade to appear less stand-offish. "Yeah, that's fine. Uh, just put it in the living room where all the other junk is," I said, assuming he knew his way around inside of my newly bought house.

The wolf, with gusto, took with one of his arms a box and laundered it over his shoulder, hopping out the U-Haul, all ready heading down the concrete path leading to my home's doorway. He kind of craned his head back to speak, while I modestly followed, attempting to flick my shirt upwards to keep the exposure of my back neck hidden.

"My name's Sade, by the way," he called back, formally introducing himself which meant he was part of a self-taken welcome wagon. It was a nice gesture. Certainly took me off guard, since I never had any cheery greetings while in city apartments and such.

I obliged myself by giving my name in return. "Lucas Roswell," I said, entering the house from the ajar door as Sade stacked his box on top of another. Flicking his ears in personal amusement, he furrowed his brown, lip-smirking.

"Roswell? Hey, just like Roswell 47'," he joked, in reference to an old urban myth of some crash landing of something in somewhere. I didn't know.

I also felt a spike of a memory sear through my mind. It briefly flashed in my eyes and a voice let loose in my head.

Number 72-47-44.

I breathed out in severe discomfort as the image cleaved me in parts. Not something I wanted running in my conscious, not here, not now. I was lucky that Sade hadn't noticed my momentary pause in the living room and sudden, haggard breathing. That one mention of a number. That one code.

I shirked the presence of the memories away as swiftly as possible. Sade had all ready returned to the U-Haul at his own pace, and I struggled to catch back up, letting the limp hitch of my walk rather get in the way. I could never really run on this leg anymore. The lupine morph, upon my return to the truck, had readily noticed this ever present locomotion scar, but, in his own kindness, made no impact of it in his visage or body language. Without warning, in one instant of viewing me like a weak, damaged animal, he accepted that and deterred his attention from bringing it up, a generous act indeed, to me at least. I was quite sensitive about the leg and what it was meant. Always.

The lupine morph had managed to grapple another box, as they became fewer and fewer, and handed me one from inside the trailer. "So where ya' from, Lucas? We heard we were getting quite the out of towner," he queried in advanced conversation while I took a medium sized box he levied to me.

"Well, I'm pretty far off," I started to say, then realizing that the area I had hailed from was intensely hostile to Chimera. "I uh, came from Junction. You know, the extension of New York," I answered, leaving out county details and specifics to spare only a scope of where my origins lay. Then again, that in itself could have been a lie. I had only been in Junction for around four years. The time before that was spent. . .

This time, Sade didn't walk ahead, he waited for me and was at my side as we both entered the home, his triangular ears pitched toward me in full attention.

He throat yelped in supportive reaction to my distance from Northmoorse. "Goodness son, you *are* from out of town. Torvic said we were getting a longshot, but I didn't think we'd have a city yank on our hands!" half exclaimed the wolf morph, perpetuating his surprise by blowing a soft whistle.

I kind of noted his terms there. Longshot. City yank. Amusing and colorful. For some reason, that made me briefly stand out in my mind's eye, like I was some type of oddly colored rock discovered by a pup on the riverbanks.

"Torvic?" I mentioned, decidedly continuing in this talk as we hefted down the boxes in the living room, which was now very cluttered and messy, by my count.

Sade nodded. "Mm-hm. He's the local realtor working down in Alprite. He owns a house here in the Valley, and once he gets a sale, everybody knows. My mate told me after she was off the phone with friends and such. Heh, that's why I came down here, I like being the first to know the new guy," said the lupine amiably, doing a slight half wag of his bushy tail in signal that he was enjoying himself.

Personally, I had kind of uttered through the ordeal. The factor of a Chimera not regarding me with distaste or mistrust was somewhat of a relief, like a small, stinging burden had been healed and I was making amends. Maybe not for myself, but this company we briefly shared in friendly talk, it was almost my way of apologizing on behalf of so many human cruelties. In a way, it was like meeting something from your dreams, where a mysterious figure is there, a Chimera in this instance, and it does not move or speak, just looks at you. You try to say hi, or move, or do something, but you can't. Watching all this happen in front of me was both surreal and pleasant intermixed together. I didn't understand why Chimera and human had to loathe each other so much.

The remainder of things in the U-Haul were a couple more boxes and the furniture. I cringed when I saw the table. As ridiculous as it seemed, getting that thing where I wanted it could cause a lot of problems and pain, and now that I had someone here, I rather felt embarrassed to truly exhibit the weakness of my right calf muscle, especially since Sade lifted my belongings around like feathers in a bag.

Distracting myself, I continued in talk.

"Ah, so you're married," I stated numbly, watching Sade jump in the U-Haul one last time to grapple the remaining cardboard cubes. How ignorant I must have been to not realize that the Chimera did not use terms like "married" for their partners. I think Sade gave an amused chuckle, but I didn't hear it.

"Oh yes," said Sade dreamily, "been happily mated for twelve years now. Have a beautiful young pup and a cozy little fix here in the Valley," mused he, the wolf giving a few more wags of the tail as he was reminded of the luxury he had at his own "den," I suppose I should say. In a way, hearing that made my heart sink. A lot of folk that I briefly knew seemed able to recount their fortunes of having a pleasant world to look forward to. All I could recall about my past was the mournful rot sitting in the pit of my chest. I felt remotely jealous for a second, but again, I brushed the feel away. Wasn't worth moaning about.

"My dear Sylira," he continued, "don't know how I managed without her. She's kept me in check for so long now, helps me remember what I forget," the timber wolf said, helping get the last boxes inside the living room in a satisfactory grunt.

I think he opened his maw to ask me something of the precise calabur, the 'Do you have a wife?' type of question. Though, he retracted, perhaps because I tended to keep my eyes averted when people talked about things like this, or the sudden deafening of spring in my step, the slump of my head, the regret in my eyes. Whatever it was, he didn't ask it, I could tell.

Then again, I decided to subdue my selfishness and be a bit nicer. He had come to say hello and help me, I rather owed him. "Well, congratulations on your happiness," I stated in the most sincere way I could. "I wish you the best of years."

A mental frown. I could hear the wash of minute bitterness just on the end of those words. Sade noticed, but, somehow, knew my intent was good, even though it had been masked by the poison of a time long gone.

"Thank you greatly, it means a lot, Lucas," he affirmed, with emphasis on my name. "I'm sure that Northmoorse can do just the same for you," he said, as though trying to assure me I would find some treasure trove of happiness here. What I didn't realize was that this wolf morph had delicate understandings of inner emotions and feelings, something all Chimera possessed, really. And within that understanding, somewhere along the line, he could pick up the faint trail of anguish I'd lived through, as a result wanting to heal that in some way, find some remedy and extinguish the sickness.

So the U-Haul had the last set of things in it. Table and chairs. I sighed, filled with ridiculous apprehension about my own weakness. I don't know why, but I wanted to appear, I guess, perfect in the eyes of someone else, or a Chimera, really. As a young one, the urge to meet these morphs had been pretty strong. Some near decades later, being in that very situation I wished for, I wanted everything pristine and without flaw. I'm a greedy fool, sometimes.

Then Sade did something that flat out surprised me. "I'm sure you're pretty worn from driving out here, I'll grab the table for ya', if ya' want," said the lupine, keeping his crisp yellow eyes on the furniture with a silly smile over his string-thin black lips.

I don't why. I wasn't insulted. Maybe it was chance he'd offered to do that for me, but maybe he just didn't want me to struggle needlessly with what would obviously cause me pain. In essence, he really was simply offering genuine help, and was trying to alleviate my discomfort about the leg. I could have been angry, I suppose I could have snapped with something crude and rhetorical, but I didn't. Sade was being strangely caring to me, a newcomer, and that's really all I'd ever needed. Some generosity from another side.

Needless to say, I lightly limped in the U-Haul and took a couple of chairs, while, with that surprising morph strength of his, Sade took the wide, ovular table and kind of rested the pole on his left shoulder, keeping the "face" of the oak pointed behind him. Without much trouble, I was able to get the chairs inside my kitchen-dining room hybrid without the leg flaring up. I was incredibly thankful for that. Sade then followed in, I doing a swift step back, certain to hide my neck, as he planted it down, still retaining that charming smile of his. I guess he wanted to come off as a friend, since he rushed back before I could, grabbing the last two chairs and returning them to the kitchen, finishing off the dining area I'd have for a while.

So it was done. I checked my watched and noted the time: 3:51 PM. Nearly an hour. It hadn't taken long at all. I walked out of the house, Sade behind me, to shut the U-Haul trailer frame closed and lock up anything that might be stolen. That, of course, was behavior bred from sections of Junction. I didn't really think anyone from Northmoorse Valley would take any of my belongings, especially not since the way Sade had offered to help. Nonetheless, it always stuck.

"Well Sade," I started, turning to meet his glance and long face, "that was real kind of you. Lord knows it could've taken me hours to get that done," I admitted, somewhat revealing my lack of physical prowess would indeed have made the process an arduous one. The lupine morph shrugged and grinned.

"The pleasure was all mine. It was great meeting you, Mr. Roswell. I'm sure everyone would like to get to know you as well, but that's up to you," complimented and offered the wolf, in a simple, certain manner that rather gave me just a hint of comfort.

Of course, he'd just offered me to meet everyone. Everyone in the Valley. Something caused me to stay the answer, pause a moment.

Number 72-47-44.

I didn't know. I wasn't able to face up to something like that yet. There were things that these Chimera and humans alike did not know, or understand, about me that made me sure they were ready for what my old life had been like. Were they prepared for me? Was I prepared for them? The codes and numbers told me no, as much as my heart felt to hope.

"Ah," I hesitated, "I think I'll get settled in first. I um, have a good bit of work still ahead of me in the week. More stuff's coming," I painted blandly, not trying to "shoot" the fellow's offer out of the sky but at the same time not fully comfortable with having an entire neighborhood scope out my, well, life, I suppose you could say.

The wolf morph tilted his head, but his smile did not fade or crack, it remained all the same. "Of course. Whenever you feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed you didn't have a mattress. Did you need a spare or anything?" Sade pursued, in timid ways reminding me of a hotel clerk who was pushing for a tip.

I shook my head, forming, just barely, a pleasant face of my own. "Nah. I brought a sleeping bag and pillow for tonight. My bed should be here by tomorrow, I think," I mused, giving a brief thought to my possessions back and Junction and curious if they were safe. Almost as though he were making sure one of his own family had been taken care of, Sade, to my semi-reluctance, patted me on the shoulder with a warm touch of comfort.

"All right then, looks like you're set for now. I can come back tomorrow or later in the week to help out, if you need it," finalized the lupine morph, to which, at this point, I think I was quite happy to accept as an offer. Though the mold of the old me was still ever present, I felt a few, tiny, minuscule fragments of it wash away, as old wounds finally started to mend, if only slightly.

"Sounds fine. Eh, I imagine it'll get here about two or three o'clock n the afternoon. I'd call, but I don't think my phone service has been set up yet," I mused, mentally jotting down a few random scrabble of notes to take care of later on. I imagined I'd forget anyway, but the prospect always gives me clarity.

We traded a good few more words. He asked if I'd like to come to dinner and such, cooked by his "mate" as I should not have forgotten, but I respectfully declined, saying I usually felt more at home feeling things out for myself. The kindly wolf granted me one more smile, then, with a wave of his leather-padded paw, he said his good-byes made his way back to his den (as the Chimera traded in house for their native word), while I watched on, half of me recalling to keep the back of my shirt up until he was out of sight.

I couldn't help but feel a small wave of relief flow over me when he was out of sight. The first was that I no longer had to be conscious about myself, not the hidden neck flesh nor the weakened leg. The second was the sublime, resolve fact that I had experienced a meaningful, peaceable, and generous conversation with a Chimera, my last recollection of meeting one being a long while back before the darker days. My heart, my inner self which had been weeping and hardened for such a long while managed to pulse, not a large flare, not an enormous stride, but a new warmth found itself in my conscious and spirit.

It was wonderful.

= - = - = - = - =

I spent a great deal of time unpacking my things and getting what clutter I could out of the way, and by the Lord, there was a whole lot of it. It was incredible to me just how much junk I possessed until I'd actually had to find it and pack it up. In fact, I wondered if I left some of it at Junction that there could have been so much. I was dazzled at the tiny things I owned, from old, unread books to several broken clocks whilst a few others just needed new batteries. All my clothes were in order, though, to each I recognized safe for the ritzy business ones I never really bothered to wear. I rubbed my nose at the tethers, wondering if I should burn the lot of them and just go by some new ones, considering my life had completely reversed itself from my time in Junction and years. . . before.

I scrambled through what I could. I chose my master bedroom and began getting a few things in the closet, some of my shoes, the shirts, jeans, loose pants, unused suits, moth eaten t-shirts and so on, and then placing a few items sporadically through the living room. I couldn't really get much out, though, considering none of my major furnishings were around. I plugged in my TV and let it sit on the floor, flicking it on once to see the mirage of static in my face, obvious since I hadn't signed up for satellite or whatever. No matter. I didn't have to much to see on the telly, save for the news, and even then, that wasn't always the best of endeavors for me to explore in.

I also spread out my bed for the night, which, as I told Sade earlier, was nothing more than a sleeping bag and comfortable pillow. It was centered in the living room, while I plugged in a lamp or two in the exposed outlets, looking about at the bareness of the living room. I also had a large glass pane door that led to the backyard and lake, to which I admired, and took a few moments to embrace the coziness of the home, its sheltering walls and soothing exterior.

A good hour or so later, I finished up getting most of what I wanted out of the packaging boxes. Large portions of my clutter had to be left inside the cardboard cubes, though, which meant more work for the week, but that hardly bothered me. After all, I had been given a hefty sum from the Government, which meant finding a job or getting work was certainly not mandatory, but still, keeping myself occupied with activity suited me better than remaining still to wrestle with my demons.

I checked my watch once more to view the time. 5:11 PM. It was time for food. I had only eaten breakfast at my last stop in Junction, and then caught an early lunch before I got into the main district of where I was headed. I had no groceries or food I'd brought with me. Stuff like that would have piled rotten in the truck, and I never bothered to stock myself with canned foods, which was an *awful* habit. Then again, I wasn't interested in cooking after setting my entire life on a new course, wether it was for good or ill. So, recalling a diner or two I'd seen in their heavenly town called Alprite, I made sure I'd done everything I needed two, then, grabbed my keys and set out for the truck. Or, I would have, but stopped to grab something.

Now, through certain magnitudes of turmoil I've been through, and forgive me to keep bringing that up, I've found solace through a little window of music I'd never expect my taste to fall in. But, here I am, ol' Lucas Roswell, head over heels for the talents of Bobby Vinton. My truck had a cd player, as useless as the thing had seemed, and I kept a few of the oldies' singer's audio discs on hand, pretty much always. Why? Never had a clue, but every time I heard the sound of his voice and his music, I was immediately put to ease. Not like my days as a youth where the enraged system of metal would do my ears some good, no, I'd taken a big transition since then. So, before heading out the door, I grabbed one of the cases I'd left in a box marked "Music and Movies" and left for the truck, locking the frame to my new house and piling in the big vehicle.

The distance between where I now lived, Northmoorse Valley and the town of Alprite, wasn't too hefty. I think, under my own rough estimation, it could have been ten miles or so, maybe more. The edge of the town, anyway. That was going to make things intensively convenient on my part, just to load up a set of groceries and whatnot, and the fact that I could get somewhere or someone could get to me in an emergency situation. It was quite nice how everything kind of strung together in this way, people so close and able to help if the need arose.

As I drove, a place I recalled fresh in my head for where I wanted to go, I was put in almost a trance-like state of calmness as Bobby Vinton's words filled the aura of my truck, taking all those miniature fires in my head and putting them out. Both the heart breaking and beautiful words of "Blue Velvet" sang in a chorus of angelic harmony of essential simplicity yet complex meaning.

_She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars_

Something about it always struck a good chord with me. The dark shadows of my thoughts receded for the time being, and all essential nightmares vaporized until they were no more. I'm sure you've had a song that helps you in grim times, that takes root in your very soul and begins a grove where the fruit of happiness can soothe your anguish. That's the idea of it, how it would make me feel.

Now a great deal more cheery, I finally found the little diner I had spotted when heading into Northmoorse Valley and leaving Alprite. Trust me, when it came to food, I always remembered where it was located. A survival instinct that emerged in me a while back.

It had a slightly jarring name but was humble looking nonetheless. "Merv's Fast Track Food." Not the most elegant of eatery names, but then again, when was "Joe's BBQ" really any better? I dryly chuckled mentally and pulled in the parking lot, which was specked by two other cars, getting out to face the sunlight which was making its way close to the horizon. Soon, it would be getting dark around five or so, seeing as Fall was fast approaching, and the cold would sweep in. I had no idea how this town or my new neighbors felt about the cold, but I personally hadn't the slightest issue with it.

I locked up the Ford as I stepped out into the brisk wind, ignoring the hitch in my stride, making sure I had my wallet and made my way to enter the diner. The minute I went in, I was instantly taken with it. It had the essence of a retro-modern eat out as the sign outside was lit by a furious neon pink and blue, while the innards of the rectangular building was kind of a melding of both a fast food stop and classy restaurant. Just a few people were in there, one fellow sitting with newspaper in hand mulling over his evening dinner, while a sturdy looking man in an apron with a pudgy and flat face kept his arms rested at the cashier's bench, waiting patiently for the third person, a female Chimera, to do something, of which I had no idea.

And this is how it would all start. You have moments in your life where they kind of dig into you, burn into your memories like a white hot flame and will always be fresh and fiery, something you want to recall as often as you can. I suppose I had decided to sit in one of the middle tables that sat adjacent to the rectangular window giving full view to the outside. I don't know, because I remember what had caught my attention.

I was about to plant myself and rest my leg when I rather caught wind of what the clerk was saying to the Chimera. Eavesdropping was another bad tic of mine. Formed, yet again, as a survival mechanism.

"How much was it again?" said the female. Those words. Those first ones. Like the chime of wonderful bells did they ring through my mind.

"S'bout six twenty seven," I heard the man say, he with a gruff but tempered and patient kind of tone rattling through his breath. At this, I heard her shuffle and fidget with a bag, her purse no doubt.

I've lived long enough to recognize the grunts of frustration when you're unable to find something. This Chimera was sighing with frets of irritation as, whether instinct or mental experience told me, she couldn't come up with the money asked for.

I'm not sure why I did it. Perhaps some of Sade's generosity was echoing through me, or maybe, for once, I was just feeling pleasant enough to help someone out. Whichever the reason, I hastily pulled out my wallet and fished through the forest of green bills that had been sitting there for a time. I saw a five and exhumed it, then, with care, nudged the Chimera in the arm.

I just froze. She turned, and revealed to me that she was a vulpine morph, sensual spasms of hybrid blue eyes glancing at me to which complimented her amber orange fur, a scruff of autumn rust beauty, while she had a mix of wheat blonde-chestnut brown hair striding down her delicate frame. I could not turn away seeing her, nor react, nor speak. Every feature of her stuck in to my mind from that moment onward, to her simple white t-shirt to her blue-jean shorts, the dash of snowy white running from her neck and through her chest (I assumed), while the delicacy of her paws were held by the grace of a satin black hue, a sheen of acorn brown just tenderly soaked through them. Her puff tail kind of ran behind her legs when she saw me, and I had somehow managed to pull the bill up from my limp arms practically dangling at my side.

Her image drilled both into my conscious and my heart, and it never hurt so bad and felt so good as the same time.

When the new-breed vixen noticed I had offered a five to her, her reaction was amidst some odd form of weariness and reluctance, as though in the next second I'd pull out a knife and gut her. I realized that my staring may have been setting her off, so I quickly shook out of it and searched frantically for my voice.

"Here, take it," I said, but quickly noted the assertion in my voice and not the offering. "It's no problem, keep the change," I added, attempting to sound as kind as possible through the hoarse lock up in my vocals.

She blinked her azure eyes once more, and recalling the awaiting cashier behind her, she swiftly took the five without a smile, merely a numb gaze and reaction.

"Thanks." came her blank statement, turning her back to me as she paid the cashier. After the ching-and-ring of the cash register, the vixen briskly left without so much as another glance in my direction, leaving me to feel quite cold in the legs and hazy in the head. Initially, her coolness to me gave way to a first spark of irritation, but as I kept pondering it, that faded away and I was left with wonder. I sat, but didn't remember moving. My thoughts were in upheaval.

I ordered a good sized dinner, a hearty slab of the "Kebler" Steak with a small salad and fries, and a soft cola to drink. I hardly cared for the fries, but, somehow, I was stuffing them down, completely lost in the head. For near the entire time I was eating, all I could think about was the vulpine. Her pretty long face, her captivating fur, the whole thing revolved about my thinking unmercifully, my brain as though obsessed with just the very concept of her. Why though? I was half caught in irritation that she was so very distant with me, and yet the other half scoffed and was simply taken with the fact that her steady blue eyes even looked at me.

It was deterring. I rather floated through the rest of my dinner and called for my check, each action I took nothing more than a drizzle of cognitive automatic reactions. What finally took me out of it was when the portly man, not the waitress, arrived to collect the bill, myself hunting the wallet out my pocket to pay him. He smiled.

"Nah, son, this one's on the house. That was a mighty kind thing you did there," he praised, in reference to my handing the vixen a five. I kind of half looked at him, not really pulling in all of what he'd said as I was still a bit boggled.

"Oh, thanks," I uttered out, just barely glancing at him. My mind reprimanded me and I pursued on to curve my rudeness. "It was no problem," I said with a weak smile.

The old fellow was positively beaming, as though my actions were worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize itself. "Bein' a bit kind isn't always the easiest thing to do, specially' from a stranger. I know almost everybody in Alprite, but I don't recognize you, son. You an out of towner?" he asked politely, much in a manner that reminded me briefly of Sade.

I jolted a nod, and did a little gesture off in the air referring to my home. My full sense of awareness also returning, I shrunk a little from the man to keep my back out of sight.

"Yeah, I actually just moved in today, down by Northmoorse Valley," I explained, a little hint of chilled nerves in my voice from the closeness of the cashier. I think he noticed, and let himself casually pull back a tad, nodding in interest as I currently relayed I was now a citizen of the humble town.

He threw out his meaty hand with a little glint in his eye as well. I was lightly reminded of jolly old Saint Nick for a moment there.

"Name's Mervlyn Parks. Folks call me Merv, though. Glad to see you picked out a spot in the Valley, it's nice over there," said Merv in introduction, while I, attempting to regain my normal composure, shook his hand lamely and feigned another smile. I also nodded at his comment about Northmoorse.

"Yeah, it is nice. I'm Lucas," I replied, in turn however keeping my last name to myself. That tic with some odd bit of paranoia that Merv would also mention the number forty seven in reference to "Roswell", and I really didn't have the girth to deal with that at the moment.

One last iron gripped jolt of the hand and Merv chuckled heartily. He definitely symbolized the type that could amuse themselves at the whim of their own actions, meaning he was most likely a happy individual.

"That it is," he affirmed in agreement, "and it's close to here, as well. You should come back a bit more, son, we've got some great foods I think you'd love,"

Ah. Semi-kind words and semi-sales pitch. Well, I shouldn't have been surprised. Maybe his business was hurting. Folks need money to eat, and I had rather abandoned the issue of currency a long time ago thanks to my settlement, so I didn't tab it with any scorn.

I gave him a bit more of my time, though he hadn't much more to say. Hitch in my sweep, I was quick to exit the diner and make way back to my truck. The time was a few minutes from six, and, suddenly, the urge to be alone with my thoughts rattled my contemplation. I think, after a great deal of years from certain magnitudes of trauma, I had always encountered and mused over my problems in solitude, not seeking help or a friendly shoulder. It wasn't that I didn't *want* help, per say, but things occurring in the dark days forced me to be otherwise for reasons of survival. Not to mention, I had no friendly shoulders to lean on anyway.

More Bobby Vinton as I drove home, down the crisp early September roads as I whistled to the tune of, once again, Blue Velvet.

_She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May her tender sighs

Love was ours_

The internal conflict in my own mind's arena was able to settle without much trouble. It never failed. Down the road I was able to let myself at ease as the vixen eventually emptied herself from my concentration. It would only be for so long, though. I arrived home about ten minutes after six, on my way noticing a few more people out than the morning, perhaps since they were off work or some such other reason. I'm sure the ones who noticed my truck were looking at me in curiosity, seeing as how, as Sade put it, I was the "new guy." Drills of apprehension filled my gut when I switched off the ignition and retrieved my audio CD, as I was, for a moment, hoping against company as I still required solace.

I kind of high tailed it to the inside of the house, as fast as I could manage based on my limp. Comfort found me once more when the door closed and I was allowed my privacy. I needed it, for the time being, as there was a lot happening in my head that couldn't find an outlet, so was my awful way of dealing with things. With not much to do, I headed toward my sparse bathroom and cut on the shower, waiting for the water to heat and stepped in, rinsing off all the sweat and dust I'd probably collected from moving the boxes in.

But these things were like gnat bites when it came to the big sting. That vixen. She wouldn't leave my head. Her memory had set up residence in the ever present doings of my conscious and it didn't plan on going anywhere. What irked me was the confusion I was feeling about all this. What exactly did this mean? It had no purpose. I had just moved in to a new town, saw this girl, and suddenly, all things are in disarray and out of order in my state of mind? What was I getting at? Did I really want to forget the brief image I had, fight with it to evacuate the premises of my musings, or was I honestly entrapped by it that I wanted it to stay? Did I honestly think I had something to gain, here? She was fairly disinterested in me, as far as I could tell. Just a hopeless manner of confusion.

I felt ruined for a moment. I had come to Northmoorse for a good deal of peace, and, first day I'd arrived, it wasn't there, even though the efforts of the lupine Chimera were admirable. I was almost shaking, uneasy with stress and my mouth was going dry. I didn't know if I felt wonderful or terrible. All I knew was that I saw her, and something happened inside me. My old dead heart had apparently sprung to life again.

With a defeated sigh, I stepped out of the shower and dried off, snatching on some more comfortable clothes for sleep and went to the living room. I hadn't much more to do. Unpacking didn't really seem like a worthwhile endeavor, as nothing would go anywhere until the morrow'. TV wasn't around either to distract me, this being one of the only times I wished it was on and buzzing with mindless talk. Pulverized with distress, I searched out my box that contained a medium sized electronic stereo and did the one thing that would keep me out of habitual insanity. I clapped down a Vinton CD, plugging the stereo in, and just let the songs remove what conflicts they could from the business in my head.

It went on for quite a few hours, until I decided to snatch some sleep early, strapping in to the sleeping bag at about half past eight. Though, I wasn't able to find a drop of rest for nearly another hour, as the vulpine new-breed kept coming back, playing like a recording as I repeated the scene over and over through a system of "rewind" and then "play" in day-dreaming imagery. I was so irritated and taken I wanted to scream.

"All right, all right," I called out to no one, speaking to my brain as though it were another person. "I get it. She was pretty." I admitted, wrestling to my pillow and clamping my eyelids shut with defiance.

No, something in my thoughts countered.

She was beautiful.

= - = - = - = - =

Number 72-47-44.

I bolted up. I thought I had heard a voice. Some old revelation of the past had decided to kick me awake, it seemed. I frantically looked about outside the clamp of my sleeping bag, realizing that it was early morning, sun rays flaunting themselves proudly through the glass-pane door in the living room. With ignorant paranoia, I touched the back of my neck and rubbed it, looking at my hand as if there were supposed to be traces of black ink slathered over the tips. With haggard breaths, I checked to see that I was the only one in the house, then mentally scorned my foolishness for believing I was actually in danger. The past. I wanted to get away from it, but still, it had its ways of flaring up and presenting me with a light dose of torment.

Morning had arrived without much trouble. I, luckily enough, had a peaceful sleep evading many worrisome nightmares or ancient terrors, and I think the calm of Northmoorse had settled down what used to be a difficult task of gaining even a few hours of precious snooze time. I laundered up, yawned, scratched my shirt up and carefully stood, not too quickly, as the leg had a nasty tendency to pull significantly if moved too quickly. Although I didn't need to see my physician anymore, he and a few others still warned me not to hyper-extend or stress the calf muscle any further than I could, lest it be torn and have to be healed all over again.

My home was still a bit stark and bare, but I managed to get some of my grooming utilities with me during the move, so I headed back to the bathroom for a quick shower, shave, and brush of the teeth, while tossing my sleep clothes in a pile and stacking on some fresh ones, a short sleeved grey shirt with worn patterns on it and a pair of casual black pants, still wearing my old sneakers from a year or so back. Call me old fashioned, I suppose.

Instead of breakfast, I had decided, out of small adventurous taste, to go exploring about the Northmoorse Valley neighborhood first. I didn't know why, precisely, as I was always self conscious about the marking on my back neck and was a tad reluctant to meet new people, human or Chimera, but today I felt. . . different. Almost as if I were looking for something. Or someone. Even so, my chest wasn't so heavy, quite light, to my joyous surprise.

Just in case, I had made sure I brought all I needed, wallet, keys, and even shoes (I had in some cases forgotten to wear them exiting the apartment door). All that accounted for, I stepped outside the brick red home to meet the gorgeous light of a golden sun casting its light on the emerald leaved trees and blades of grass, to every crafted house (or den, for the Chimera) next to my own, down the onyx asphalt and beyond to the country hills or Alprite. A nice, somber breeze wafted through the branches and I could hear just a few birds out and chirping, though I wondered when they'd leave as Fall would be around in a month or so.

I started my trek by heading right which would lead me deeper into the curves of Northmoorse. I rather limped along, but did my best to walk normally, always self conscious about that premise, and began to admire what I viewed and observed as I hobbled along. It was a wonderful neighborhood, each place of living decorated with their own little touch of self expression from flags to lawn ornaments, exotic plants to which I'd never seen before and even classically used wind chimes. Some of the morphs added their own creative touch, patching up their lawns and land with things similar to a behavior of the animal itself, like digging a miniature burrow or piling a set of logs and sticks together as some reflection of a dugout. I think I spotted Sade's house; I don't know, call it a hunch, as a large structure hidden behind some very large oaks and willows seemed scattered with ornamentations similar of that like a Native American, tethers and tapestries of that particular style. I wasn't actually sure if wolf morphs followed the notion that they endeared to spiritual beliefs like that to the original inhabitants of the States, but it was a nice touch, nevertheless, and I felt it had the timber wolf written all over it.

A few times as I went on, I think I'd caught a few of the neighbors fiddling around in their backyards or doing some yard work. They were brief catches, since I hardly paid attention to most smaller things, but I did get a full glimpse of an elderly woman lightly showering a patch of flowers and plants, and if I wasn't mistaken, she was singing. She turned to notice me walking along, and without words, smiled and waved, in a way that told me she was greeting me as the newest edition to the Valley. I had no intention of acting callous, so I returned the favor and gave a small hand wiggle of my own, though I didn't pause, as I'm reluctant to new encounters, as you know.

I'd say, probably around twenty minutes had passed when it happened. I'm not good at noticing sounds or catching things moving behind me, and I'm not the sharpest ear to have around, either. But I didn't see the girl walk up her own sidewalk behind me. I didn't see her open her mailbox to retrieve what was in it. I didn't realize that my mind's obsession from the previous day wasn't about to leave me as I'd presumed.

"Oh hey, aren't you that guy?" came the sweet melody of her voice like a backhand of cold water to my senses. Of course, anything behind me sends me in a state of swift panic, and I was quick to bolt around and keep my neck out of sight.

My eyes caught her once more. Her amber fur was so magnificent in the sunlight. Her hair resonated with the delightful mix of farmland colors. The rusty orange shined with finesse as I soaked in every curve and angle I could of her form, to the tip of her nose to the edge of her paw, to the very ending puff of her idle tail. She was also in casual wear, save for having nothing around her ankles, and I almost felt my voice escape me.

I noticed in her features that my sudden spinning around had caused her some suspicion, and what looked to be regret for having even spoken to me, ears rather clinched back. I saw that and was desperate to remedy it.

"Oh! Whoa, sorry, you startled me there," I blurted out, which, in my own reception didn't sound so good. Why was I jumpy? Stuff like that made people wary of your behavior, I had learned. I held my breath when she studied me, treating me with an aloof distance, and, to my displeasure, irritation.

I kept up my side. She looked ready to leave and forget I'd even walked by.

"I'm uh, easy to spook," I explained in defense, something I'd said often to convince people of my odd reaction to them. "A city does that to you," I added, trying to make me sound sane and not some rambling fool.

I couldn't really stop myself. I shook a bit and went in a stasis of locking in my composure, which wasn't always easy to do.

"Right," I agreed to her nonexistent statement, "I saw you yesterday at the diner," I rambled numbly, with little else to go for except that. I wanted to press on with something, but I bit my tongue, fearing I was over-stipulating myself as someone she'd seen.

The vixen gave a nod, or, a light nod, one that seemed blunt to everything I'd just said.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked, in a way that sounded more threatened than curious. If she could have rephrased her words, it'd probably have been 'Have you been following me?', as I understood what she meant.

Mulling over it, her query rather hit me like a stone hammer to the noggin. I didn't know. No? Yes? Perhaps I was outside for something else. I was here, and so was she. Was this coincidence? Was this a dream? Was I still asleep at home simply hoping for the best? Or had this no meaning whatsoever?

I recovered by shaking my head. "No. . . I mean," it sounded as though *I* was the one trying to avoid her. "I live here now. I had moved in yesterday from Junction," I stated simply, careful as to not extend my words and bore her with pointless details, or draft the fact that my area of living was inhumane to her kind.

The attention toward me from the vixen had now become wide eyed and alert. Her ears were flicked entirely in my direction, which meant she was keeping me in sight very carefully, as though I were a vicious predator. Maybe it was the fact I'd mentioned Junction. Was she wiser to the notion that I'd come from an intolerant area?

"Why?" she inquired again, and this time, the question was said in a way that was as if I'd insulted her by even coming to Northmoorse. I was perplexed, but, for the first time, my nervous anxiety subsided and I became calm.

After a moment, I answered. "I had to get away from things. Things and memories." I replied in a serious, sincere tone, the vixen noticing as her gaze to me deepened. A part of me regretted saying that, since, in a formal way, most would ask what I meant by "getting away." A part of me also *wanted* her to ask, so I could finally tell what had happened in the old, darker times.

A feeling that mixed with both neglect and relief spun over me as she crisply reacted with a simple "Oh," and then walked off, back down her concrete driveway and into her home. It was a bitter strike to my insides. I immediately loathed every last thing I had said and wished I could turn the moment back and try again. That, of course, wasn't going to happen.

Fearing I'd insult her further by staring in her den's general direction, dumbstruck as I was, I somberly walked on with the limp in my step and continued my exploration of the neighborhood, though it had become more of a mental war with my reasoning as the situation once again left me caught in the spell of the mysterious vulpine woman.

I got home a while later. The only thing distracting me from the vixen's enchanting face was the light grumble in my stomach. I had to get breakfast, so I snapped on a collared shirt (to hide my neck, it worked well in public) and headed for the truck and sped off to Alprite, stopping once again at Merv's for a small bite to eat (he of course was glad to see me), and with my belly full, went to the innards of the town to grab some groceries. I needed to get back in the habit of cooking, so I also managed to grab as many ingredients and small box meals that required some effort to make as I could.

Through the aisles, as I continued to load my cart with a copious amount of supplies for later in the week, I noticed that most people didn't realize I was the newest person around, which was good. This place was crowded, more so than the people in the neighborhood, and the last thing I desired was a crowd of familiars racking me up for a spray of questions about this or that. I didn't expel company, I just was nervous around it. It brought up too many memories. It was a relief, in a sense. Public shopping wouldn't be difficult as I always assumed.

When I was at the checkout lane, I mentally seized the fact that Sade would be back at the house to help finish getting the rest of my stuff in. That put me at ease somewhat, but something schemed itself in my head, that being the one reason for all my distress. Since Sade was a friendly socialite, I imagined he at least had some understanding of almost everyone in Northmoorse, especially the vulpine morph. Perhaps through him I could find out a bit more of her, this fox whom had locked down every waking breath of my daily routines. Heck, I didn't even know her name.

The idea stayed well in health, and I zipped home with a feel of enthusiasm running through me, like a flame was ablaze in my spirit. When I arrived steadfastly at the house, I made a few back and forth trips from the truck to carry in all the bags, happily doing so as I observed my refrigerator now packed to its corners with food and the like.

I'd taken the rest of the time to finish setting up a few other things. My phone service was finally working, and I was able to enjoy a satisfying lunch until the hours finally crept past me, getting to about two o'clock. Some time during the hour a larger, one segment U-Haul truck had driven its way down the winding roads of Northmoorse Valley and stopped at my place, the big diesel engine conking out with a hoarse mechanical cough. The driver was the old, typical reflection of someone coming from a far off place through hours of nonstop movement, and he reeked with the old grime of Junction which made me shiver. His presence in my eyes wasn't very welcome, and I regretted having to accept his help to get some of the heavier things inside the home. Well, help wasn't really the word, more like reason with his job requirement.

If I could, I would've bought a larger U-Haul trailer to carry all my things for one trip, but doubtful both the distance and weight my truck could handle, as good as a machine it was.

The hefty fellow, without much of my consent, blindly went on to open the back of the carrier and started picking things up and hoisting them off, to which I had to tell him to place in my living room. He was a big guy indeed, but literally had no manners, so I declined the urge to assist him with some of the heavier objects like my couches and bed mattress. Actually, I outright refused to help him at all.

Old foul feelings would have stagnated in the pit of me about Junction were it not for Sade, whom, some odd ten minutes later, had shown on cue, he this time in more covering clothes than the simple khaki's he'd worn yesterday. I'd wondered if he was a little disappointed when he viewed the corpus individual carrying my things in and out of the U-Haul, but I gestured him over for a talk to simply let the working man do what he'd apparently want to do. Sade had said he wanted to help, and I wanted to pick up that service with eagerness for another road of action.

The wolf sidled over to me with a friendly hello, his muzzle christened with that pleasant thin black-lipped smile. While I was still careful not to expose my tattooed secret, I made sure my body language was more comfortable with him as he'd quickly become a new friend in the scarce list of those I'd met in the past. I think he was amused by how I was lacking in physical motions as the burly truck driver used a wheeler to carefully pull in one of my larger recliners, my unwillingness to aid a tad too obvious. It was written all over his sterile, yellow eyes and muzzle expression.

He nudged me in the side, wryly chuckling. "I thought you said you needed help getting this stuff inside," said the lupine, while I rang a grin across my face. I gestured with a hand to the driver when his back was turned to me by the door.

"I think he's got it covered. Besides, I still need your help. Just. . . not with this," I baited, kind of wary with the way I wanted to bring this up. It was actually quite sudden, really, me being here only one day and all ready interested in someone. If I was really interested at all, I mean.

"What's on your mind, Lucas?" he offered in query, kind of caught in a still laughter at my crafty use of the driver's strength. I breathed in. I had to be certain I wanted to tell the lupine, as kind as he was, about my distress. Was I being a bit too rash, here? I had never gotten the opportunity to seek help, so I'd wondered if this was far too desperate on my half.

"Well," I experimented, seeing what the wolf Chimera knew first, "you said you like to be the one to meet new neighbors and such, right Sade?" I said, deciding to acknowledge him as my comrade further by using his name. He gamely nodded.

"Yup. I know a good deal of people for it too. That's how I get most to come to our neighborhood outings," he answered, and too my great relief, he didn't reel it over and ask me why I was interested, he just listened and answered.

"Ah, good," I choked out, struggling how I'd phrase my question. He kind of side glanced at me, still pleasant masked but with a dainty hint of concern in his eye.

"Okay. I, er, wanted to know. I think I met someone who lives here," I dryly said, within that mental scorn that thwacked me for using 'I think' and 'lives here' in the same sentence. With his acute senses of being both wolf and Chimera, I'm pretty sure he could hear an enhancement in my heartbeat, note the warmth in my face, the struggle in my vocals.

"Uh huh," he aided casually, assuring me in some way I'd nothing to be nervous or ashamed of. But then again, I believe I did.

"She seemed nice," I went on, getting to the root of all this, for some reason focusing heavily on the threshold of the U-Haul truck, "but I didn't get her name. Actually, she was kind of distant, like she was afraid I'd do something or didn't want me around," I recalled, remembering the beautiful outline of her slender frame but the cold distance of her body language and eyes.

Sade studied me for a good moment, ignoring the grumbles of the U-Haul driver when he came to retrieve a large dresser, pausing in reflection. He raised his long face in the air briefly, thinking over something I didn't read in his face. I was too busy burying my stare into the ground, filled with flustered embarrassment and coils of apprehension.

"Hmm," he started softly, taking a claw to his wolfish chin, "was she a human or Chimera?"

I bit my lower lip but kept going. He didn't appear shocked by my questions. "Chimera. A fox, I think," I answered, and was sincere at my own uncertainty. Perhaps she wasn't a fox, but that was my original impression.

The lupine rather licked his teeth in recollection, face furrowed in steady remembrance. "Sounds familiar. Do you remember the color of her eyes?"

I was fidgeting my fingers about when he asked, but I immediately managed what they were. A fantastic azure blue, oceanic whirlpools that caught my heart in a trapeze act.

"They were blue," I repeated out loud from my mind's echo, "kind of a light, crystal blue."

Sade made some kind of smacking noise with his muzzle mouth, expressing he knew who it was. He waved a finger in the air that sampled my attention.

"Ah. That's Journey. I was thinking it might've been Mrs. Danson at first, but Journey's the only one with blue eyes," he stated assuredly, nodding to himself.

I blinked when I heard the name. A freezing wonder took me by the legs, and I was still with a mesmerized haze lingering in my conscious.

"Journey?" I mimicked, saying the word and letting it roll off my tongue, as though I needed to be positive it was real. The name cascaded through my skull like a never ending river. Again and again it recycled itself as my soul found a hint of steady peace.

The lupine new-breed looked at me, smirking. Somehow he found out what precisely I was driving at, even though I felt I really didn't. Almost as though he sensed some all important purpose coming together that I blindly missed in all my confusion.

"Mm-hm. She's a nice girl. True, a bit distant, doesn't get around in the community a whole lot, but really sweet. Heh, she's actually another longshot like you. Came in all the way from California," said the wolf morph, finally painting a picture for me that had altogether been cracked and unorganized from the very start of our first "meeting." I also pondered the distance too. California? That was much farther than I'd traveled. . . I wondered how she even managed to find Northmoorse from such a distance.

"Huh," I responded, put in awe by the mysteries this woman had placed in front of me. "I wonder why she felt so resilient around me," I'd said, actually thinking out loud, managing to hear the words as they formed from my mouth. A slight cringe. I hadn't meant to say it like that. It tasted of personal insult which wasn't true.

The wolf didn't mind. He shrugged, to my despair, apparently not knowing himself. "Not too sure, Lucas. I imagine you came out here looking for some peace and quiet. Maybe she did the same. California's had some pretty sour history, remember?" he replied with a question, which suddenly left me feeling ignorant. My mind did a miniature backflip. No. I had no idea anything had happened in California, I was too busy. . . elsewhere.

I shook my head, baffled. "Maybe so," I covered weakly, trying to shade my lack of knowledge.

The truck driver, with a surprising bit of hasty speed, had gotten every last hint of furniture from the one segment U-Haul in near an hour's time into my red-bricked house, same as yesterday. During that time, I'd shifted gears in conversation and did a bit of small talk with Sade, until the burly individual had finished, slamming the truck door to the end of the threshold, without so much as a goodbye. I didn't care though, I didn't want him around, as cruel as that may have seemed. While I noted Sade was eager to extend his hospitality to the big human, I distracted him from doing so, as I saw hate filled glances from the employer toward the lupine morphs direction. Like old city people we were, the driver and I caught eyes, and I gave him a dark stare, he returning it and leaving the Valley in a gruff hurry.

That was the last time I'd expect anything from my old life to return to me. The rest of my boxes and furniture had been piled in, as the U-Haul chugged along, completely out of place in this paradise of people who did nothing but cared for the other, juxtaposed than it's cold, merciless, unfeeling world. In a sense, I had to feel pity for the man driving all the way back to Junction.

Sade suggested to stay to assist in getting things unpacked and in their place, and I accepted. I couldn't risk a tear on the leg trying to move things like a recliner or couch around, and the wolf had all ready demonstrated a physical prowess that I lacked to move things along. We had a good friendly chat for the next couple of hours or so, as I'd asked where he'd come from and how he'd come to meet Sylira. He was a gentle soul at best as he helped get all of my miscellaneous clutter out of the boxes, wishing nothing but the best for those around him. He had joined rallies to fight for the cause of other Chimera, but wasn't beyond forgiving those who spat hatred in his direction, saying that "they're just frightened of change and don't know how to adjust." That statement had me stalling for a moment. It applied quite well to my own past.

When we were done for the most part (I told him I'd get the rest later), I asked if he'd wanted something to drink. He obliged, noting I had orange juice and told me he had a "sweet tooth" when it came to that. I had a light cola, and the time fizzled by as we traded more words and spared a few laughs. I'm sure he didn't realize, but I had kept the chat far away from my own life and past, as there was nothing I wanted out in the open concerning that matter. My irksome tic, a bit later, caught me and I checked the time, evening hours starting to draft in, as sudden as it may have appeared.

I had relayed the time and Sade seemed ready to mobilize his farewell, stopping for one last thing.

As always, Sade had one little "gift" in store for me as a welcoming embrace of kindness. "Say Lucas," he had started, "I know your new here, but, I can easily help you get a job if you need one," he implied with a toothy smile. I thought on it.

The fellow had meant well, but my financial status hadn't been a concern for years now, so a job was hardly necessary. "Well, I uh, have a pretty solid financial standing. Investments and such," I replied, but shifted my thinking on it seeing the gleam in his yellow eyes.

"But, if there's something on the side, like volunteer work, I wouldn't mind. Anything around the neighborhood maybe?" I probed, actually quite comfortable doing things in Northmoorse rather than a full fledged occupation around so many in Alprite. I saw the lupine new-breed's eyelids widen. He had an idea.

"Yes, there is! We actually have something we call a community assistant. You'd be up in the main office with Torvic, answering calls for people needing some help around the house. Sometimes it might be maintenance, sometimes it might be little things. I'm sure the old man would love to have some help up there," he said enthusiastically, a preparing condolence that wanted me to start my new life on the right foot.

I soaked in his statement with interest. I wasn't concerned with the work I'd be doing necessarily, seeing as how back in some rough times I'd learned quite a lot of manual skills for jobs of the simple labor. And, small little doses of meeting people wouldn't be bad for me either. While my anxiety could propel like a rocket in the presence of unmet faces, I surmised it was for the best and a healthy way to mend over my rather solid heart and reckonings.

I sighed out my acceptance, one of timid 'defeat' at his persistence in helping me and one that was rather blowing out a thick cloud of old, poisonous fog. "Sounds like a plan. Ah, hang on, let me give you my number so you can keep me up to date on it,"

Hunting about for a scrap of paper and a pen, I managed to salvage it up and wrote down my home phone (I'd recorded the digits mentally as soon as I received them), handing it to Sade, pausing to reflect on what I'd done. This was the first, in years, in a decade, almost, I'd handed someone my personal information or anything remotely close to being able to be contacted at the very least. While it may not have been a large deal to a humble lupine like Sade, to me, it was as though I was handing over a piece of myself, one that required trust, since that value had been beaten out of me through all the confusion and past panic.

He took it with grace in his warm, leather padded paw, grasping it gently. He looked at me for a moment, and flashed another one of those thin lipped smiles that always tried to convey some message I'd yet to understand. Maybe someday I'd get it.

In return, the wolf morph relinquished his own home phone, mentioning to give him a ring in case I ever needed anything. Lord knew I would in the future, but I hadn't a clue at the time.

I was a little sad to see him finally go, after having enjoyed such good company, but nonetheless, Sade left in his usual wolfish stride to leave me with my now completely furnished home. I'd managed to get the couches and recliner positioned in the living room, while my TV could rest on a table rather than the floor. My computer, which was detrimental to check on things in the investment world and banking, I had set up, and made another mental note to get my internet worked out as well. The few decorative things I hung on to were now out and about, and all my scattered trinkets found a place at least somewhere in the home.

Content that I'd officially been able to call this place my own, I checked the time and then set out to make dinner, cooking up some fried rice and chicken. Indeed, I did enjoy Merv's food a good deal, but I needed to have my own nourishment forged so as not to fall into a lazy streak. I'd even stocked up on some canned goods, finally.

When I'd eaten through dinner, I bothered a few services by phone to set up a dish network so I could always have the option of monotonous TV should some of the darker things surround me. I'd gotten a simple package from "Hallard Networks," simply covering the essentials without worrying with things like a movie channel or Pay-Per-View.

The evening eventually drifted into nighttime, and I scattered on to my bedroom to plant myself in bed, drilled from muscle aches in having to move around frequently. It was better, my mind wasn't so bent on replaying things of the image that was Journey, yet still, knowing information about her made my insides swell with an injection of joy, like I was one step closer to reaching the mountain top.

A battle of wits engaged themselves as I managed to drift off into sleep. There I was, assuming I'd have something with the vulpine morph simply because I knew her name and was a bit taken with her. It was so naive. Disappointment was a benefactor in life, I'd experienced it. Why did I think it was going to be different now?

She's trying to get away like you. That's a start.

= - = - = - = - =

Two weeks had leveled quite a lot of progress on my half concerning my interactions with others. Sometime that Sade had mentioned being a community assistant, he'd called me and relinquished that Torvic was happy to have someone around the office, and so the following weekend I'd driven up to the Northmoorse business building to meet him. He was very old, probably in his seventies, with a thick white beard and large bald spot splashed upon his cranium. Torvic Chalver, that was his full name. He had a gentle lilt when he spoke, so I assumed he had origins of European descent or other such things, and he always wore a tidy black or navy blue suit, telling me he was "on the job" all the time.

My work pursuing this shanty little career wasn't difficult at all. I could come and go as I pleased, but I mainly drove up the helm of the neighborhood about nine or so in the morning, and left by two. During the time, a few calls would ring in asking for some help with, as Sade mentioned, miscellaneous work, very minuscule things like assisting in moving a heavy piece of equipment or checking to see if one's vehicle was operating properly. Along the time I'd met an elderly couple, a Chimera family of feline morphs, a traveling businessman and his wife, and once, a large family consisting of grandparents, an aunt an uncle, one son and one daughter, and a happily wed bride and groom from nigh a month ago.

The pattern I picked up with nonchalance was that they were all families.

I'm not entirely sure how I handled it all. I normally recoil from such situations with multiple people practically hanging around my shoulder, but, I'm not too certain why it hadn't bothered me. Sure, I felt socially clumsy when interacting with some of the neighbors when they were in groups of at least three, but I found a bizarre label of comfort when the polo shirt kept my neck hidden, and for all intents and purposes, I decided to let myself relax and not propel the uneasy tendencies I would rather inflect on those fresh to my senses.

In effort to say, the two weeks went quite well. Every time I had come home I'd felt just a bit happier, a tad more open about things I'd kept in a mental grave for a great deal of time. It was good that I'd broken the shell of my formal ways as well, since my second week into the escapade was about to shift every last neuronic inch of my behavior.

Inside the office I was struggling to clean some irritating black stain off the painted walls when the phone rang. With a spiteful grunt to the stain, I slowly stood from my crouched position and answered the phone, speaking with my practiced greeting for anyone dropping the call center a line.

"Hello, Northmoorse community assistance," I toned amiably, straightening my blue collared shirt as though the caller were right there in front of me.

A bit of silence. "Uh, hello?" the melody penetrated through the light electronic fizz in the phone. At that, my ears warmed, my chest burst, and my breath quickened.

It was Journey.

"Yes?" I stated half-numbly, attempting to cover my explosive surprise. I imagined the vulpine may have recognized my voice, perhaps her reason for stalling lightly.

"Is Torvic there?" she asked. The query stung me, deflating the hope in my heart. Torvic wasn't around at the moment, but still, if she knew it was the 'limping man' on the phone and preferred someone else, the pain hit me all the same.

"Ah, no, he left for some business in Alprite," I informed somberly, "I handle most of the assistance while he's gone," I threw in, hoping that would give me some merit to at least have a chance. After all, if Torvic was comfortable with me, why did she think I'd be any less? Or did it have to do with that at all?

Another pause. "I can get in touch with him if you really need him," I said with a blank scratch of my cheek, a normal reaction when things were looking down. As much as my statement pained me, I couldn't force my company on the vixen. If she didn't like me, that was that.

I mentally snorted. It's not even company, you're only helping her. Reason's words.

A sigh from her side. "No. It's fine,"

I waited for her to hang up.

"I need a little help getting some stuff from the attic. Are you able to come over now?" she inquired, a little less icy in the tone than the other encounters. Fireworks rattled my brain. An alarm cascaded in my sub-conscious like a wildfire. She seemed to know who I was. . . and still wanted help.

"Certainly," I panned out with caution, not wanting a lot of zeal in my voice. I had to be calm and collected, here. This could be a bunch of nothing in the first place.

I was about to say 'I remember where you live,' but the notion of that resounded somewhat like a stalker and not a friendly neighbor, so I vowed against it. Before I could prod something clever, she spoke up before I did.

"I'm on the west road from the office. 1577," she said, and suddenly, at that, a tremor of minor panic slithered up my spine. She didn't realize I was the same person. So much for my first theory. Quick to recover, I casually went along with it and kept my breath from choking out of fear and anxiety.

"All right ma'am, I'll be sure to swing by in a jiff," I responded with tendrils of broken nerves scattered over my tongue. A soft "bye" from her and the phone clamped to its hook, I repeating the action, though slowly and apprehensively.

Okay, okay. So I had an opportunity here to expand our relationship. Flustered, I mentally smacked myself and realigned the words. No, not a relationship, but at least something to put us on a positive basis rather than the distant vibes I'd been getting. But. . . why? What precisely was I aiming for here? Why had my absolute resolve whenever I was near or around her to progress something that may have been a voided dream in the first place? I had seen many other females from my time in Junction to the present, and yet, none of them caused such a stir in my head like Journey did.

I was so confused and tormented and happy all at the same time. I'd been lost and in a haze of uncertainty for many a year a while back, but when I moved to Northmoorse, I'd figured all that was going to straighten out and I could get some thinking done. Now, everything was nearly back to the way it started, save the end result wasn't something of anguish or dread, but of a lovely creature and a beautiful face.

I pressed on, fearing the worst and hoping for the best. I clambered into my Ford truck, nearly forgetting about my pained leg, and sped down towards Journey's home, that little cottage building of porcelain cream paint and gravel foundations. When my truck hummed to park at the side of her cement driveway, I could feel myself under the stare of someone in disbelief and agitation, as I'm certain witnessing me for the third time would alert Journey in a way that she was afraid I was following her. When I hopped out the truck and slid my way up to her door, my hand was shaking in a turmoil of wanting to run back and forget this whole thing, or continue on to face the answers I'd been seeking since my first encounter with the new-breed fox.

My arm thought without me. I firmly knocked on the vixen's mulch green door, waiting. My eyes were planted to the stone ground, and I had to quickly wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead when I heard the frame unlock and creak open slightly.

Her long, dreamy demeanor peered out to meet my facade once more, her muzzle crumpling in a disgruntled frown as she witnessed the sad, pathetic man practically begging her for a moment's time. I looked up, seeing the reluctance in her stare, the narrowing of her brow, the near flattening of her ears, the overall disappointment in her silent language.

"You?" she toned out softly something that was intermixed between rash fear and unwanted discomfort. I returned her gaze, only briefly, frowning.

I thought about it. I could tell I wasn't approved of. Summing up my last line of emotional defense, I schemed to do one more thing, and if the reaction was bad, I'd cast out this pointless charade and go back to forgetting all that had transpired.

"Hey, look," I began, the clarity and strength of my tone keeping her attention to me, "I think we got off to a bad start. I'm sorry if I'd offended you in some way by offering you that money. I'm also sorry for acting like a complete fool the other day. It's, you know, I've been in the city a while and I'm not used to being around so many nice people," I stated with a newfound potency of grace in me, noticing how her features lightened and some of her stepped out from the safety of her door.

"Most think I react to them like that," I continued helplessly, referring to my bolting about when another was behind me, "because it's them. Maybe you thought I did that because you're Chimera. But believe me, that's not the case. . . it's only me," I spoke, inclining my eyes to her affixed azure blue iris', my last wits about me as this was the make or break situation. My words hung in the air a bit, mixing in Journey's thoughts as I was certain she was considering what to do with me. I had plucked the apology straight from my heart, and was honest as I could have been. Whether or not the vixen wanted any part of that was completely up to her.

"It's okay," she confirmed quietly, her glance going downcast for a moment as it trailed away from my visage. Success. If only a minor one. My chest did a victorious backflip. I didn't continue though, only retained my speaking to see if she'd have anything more to add.

Patience rewarded me, but only with a touch.

"I'm kind of like that," came her self admonishment, perhaps she telling herself she should be more trusting. I made no point to pick at her for it. Thinking of what Sade would do, I steered the brief conversation away from where it was currently railed, keeping things light.

"So, uh, you needed help with the attic?" said I, with a fresh, recovered tone about me. I also took a risk and politely attached, "I'm Lucas Roswell, by the way,"

The vixen finally opened the green mulch door all the way, the curtain to her entrancing curves and delicate body no longer in place.

"Getting things down, actually," she corrected, and obliged with her own introduction. "Journey," she said, without offering her paw for contact. Though I knew what she was named, it was spectacular to hear her use it with her own soothing voice. I was almost giddy.

I didn't move until she permitted me to enter her home by gesturing for me to do so. As I limped in, I could immediately notice how her sweet musk had masked the inside like it did so with all Chimera. I was no longer interested in masking the mark from behind when I looked around, amplified with interest as I saw her humble collection of simple things, a good deal of it pictures of what I imagined were family members and friends. There were also a few boxes laying about on her floor, to which were marked "Summer," and all ready crammed full of multiple trinkets that had to do with that seasonal time.

It dawned on me that she was the type to "paint" her den in colorful objects when the seasons would change, as I'd recalled some of the families I'd helped doing the same thing. More than likely, she wanted some aid in getting down her 'Fall' boxes so she could change the mood of her house, which, I thought, was a nice thing to do in keeping yourself busy and happy.

"Hang on," she had said, walking to her hallway to pull open the attic door which was done so by pulley string. I squinched my eyes as I realized the level of dust that would probably sift through. My gut intuition was right when Journey walked up the ladder that came down with the string, she stopping atop one of the steps to rub her eyes and gently sneeze. I chuckled silently, making sure she didn't hear me.

"Would you prefer I go up there instead?" I queried, though highly doubted she would approve since I was still merely a stranger in her eye. A helpful one, but a stranger all the same.

I was pleased when she took it they way I'd intended it: a simple way to spare her over the misery of dust. "No thank you. It's not that bad," she called down, stepping up into the upper floor, shuffling through what I surmised was a good collection of old items from back in her time.

For this, for her, I was disregarding everything about myself. I cared nothing for the mark on my neck, and I ignored the plea from my right calf muscle to 'please be gentle.' Whatever the fox had in store would require a bit of lifting, which was an ordeal that could easily stress out the tender regions of my lower leg. But I cared not. I was precisely where I wanted to be. I'd managed to get the both of us on a term that was a little bit more comfortable.

Reality did a quick slap to my head. There I went again, proposing to build a bridge between she and I as though I could form something special.

Her voice rang me from my sub-conscious feud.

"I'm going to hand you some boxes from up here. Put them in with the others, okay?" said she from above, while I mumbled a positive noise of affirmation, standing under the gape of the attic door to brace myself.

There was some dry sounding scrape noises and a timid grunt from Journey. She reappeared to my sight with a cracked and wrinkled looking brown box, holding it carefully with her paws, while I kept my own palms out, ready to catch it. As best she could, the vixen held onto the cardboard square until dropping it an inch or so from my distance to her, to which I grasped the box quickly, giving a mild "umf" as the weight tugged at my biceps. Obeying her request, I huddle over to the other pulp-crates and slowly set the package in my arms down, this one marked with the etching of "Fall" on it.

It went on for not too long, a few simple trips from Journey to her living room and then back, until she'd gotten all of her seasonal ornamentations down. The next half she asked me to get her Summer packaging and bring it up to her, while I did, rather unaware of how roughly strained my leg had become. She had managed to place back the stacks of all her old Summer trinkets, now stepping down from the attic ladder and sliding the steps back up to its smooth, slightly hinged threshold.

I was ignorant to the war storm brewing in my shin.

"Thank you," she appraised with a newborn climate of trust, making me smile.

"Yeah, of course," I acknowledged. "That's what good neighbors do," I went on lamely, a dumb phrase that appeared to hunt for some type of kind comment.

A tiny tread of silence pilfered in between us, to which I thought spastically to counter. I had really no business to remain there, but, greedily, I didn't want to go, not just yet. I felt there was more to discuss. . . if only she had cared about that in the first place.

How grateful I was when she spoke. "Would you like something to drink?"

I lied. I wasn't thirsty. If it were Sade here asking me this, I would've said no and been on my way. But this was different. This was the gorgeous vixen. This was Journey, offering me something. I mentally dreamt for the issue that it was out of thankfulness juxtaposed to a simple 'repayment' for my work.

"Sure, that would be great. Some water, thanks," I kindly replied, allowing my facade a warm smile. She didn't return it, only went on with a solemn face to grab some cups for myself and her own thirst. Journey poured out some tap water from the sink and filled it with ice, while she had herself what I believed was tea, sweet, if it was that.

In the kitchen, a concrete calm dappled over me like rain drops in a storm. I was fishing through my head for some method of conversation. Journey hadn't said much, which meant she was either looking for something to talk about herself (which I highly doubted) or just didn't want to talk, period. I wasn't sure if she still was agitated with me or not. She'd made that fact clear when she accepted my apology that her initial view of me was distasteful, but, now I had a second opportunity to start over.

With instinct, I kept away from anything about California. I could sense a painful past without much difficulty.

"So, Journey, how long have you been in Northmoorse?" I timidly queried, collaborating in my mind's eye for a reaction.

She had locked her silky azure blue eyes to the kitchen table, a stillness to her lips and ears.

"A few years," she answered in a null tone, obviously without interest in commenting on her time spent in the Valley. I scratched my head. That didn't work.

I crumpled my lips and was working out another question in my mind. This time, I tailed with something that was more or less a direct wonder to myself. I had come from a long way, so had she. Perhaps our reasons for living here weren't too different.

"Have you found it peaceful here?" I asked, and the relation of curiosity in the sound caught her attention. She looked up, ears flicked at me once more at full watch. I delicately worked over my sentence.

"I mean, has it been calm out here for you?" I tweaked, imagining she could've had an enormous stagnation of stress back in California.

Her look towards me wasn't an easy read. I wasn't sure what it was signaling, but I felt it had the composure of uncertainty and confusion, a look plastered on my visage at Junction for only too long. It was as though her expression told me that there was a missing component to her answer, like she was away from trouble, but still at search for a lost cause. Yes. I recalled that feeling only too well.

"I think so," came the gloomy handful of syllables. That was enough to affirm what I'd speculated. Her brow then crooked, eyebrows cocked, and her tail swished once.

"Why did you come here?" she stated, throwing my own sling right back at me. "You said you were getting away from things. Like what?" Journey probed, in such a blunt manner it took me by surprise. In fact, in that inquire, she didn't sound resentful or insulted, but, if I wasn't mistaken. . . interested.

I blinked, at a loss for words. I'd never had a defense line beyond what I'd all ready told her. I had managed to get past an uncomfortable air betwixt us, but I didn't want to destroy that as quickly as it'd come. I felt my throat grow hard with a lump. I decided to relay a little bit about myself, but not a whole lot.

"Bad things. Bad memories. Hateful people. Junction is where I'd pretty much lost all traces of my family," I said with a haggard whisper, briefly shutting my eyelids once to keep tears from boiling in my retina.

Number 72-47-44.

As all Chimera had, Journey easily picked up on my intensive distress. It didn't help then that my shin had decided to bite me with payback for stretching it so much, suddenly flaring up with a searing pain that racked up the front and back muscular region. I suddenly cringed, gritting my teeth, as the sensation of a knife slowly roving across my leg's insides exploded in a thunderstorm of physical agony. I felt humiliated and selfish at the same time.

Journey was alerted to my sudden buckling and came a bit closer, though steady, perhaps afraid to touch me.

"Lucas? Lucas, are you all right?" came her velvet coated voice, something for my conscious to grab on to in avoidance of the pain. A few labored breaths and I nodded, riding out the burn.

"Yeh, I'm good. . . my leg will flare up every now and then," I stated assuredly a moment later, carefully and slowly bringing myself back up to stand. The shin was tingling with white hot pricks like a tornado of unrelenting anguish. Both the memory and the lifting had triggered it.

I was infuriated. Not with her, no, not with the beautiful lady fox. With myself. It was as if the old past refused to let go if me in a demonic wrath of sadistic suffering. I had gotten close, so very close to relieving some pain and feel better with the vixen, but alas, my flesh had conspired against it entirely.

Regretfully, I shook my head, placing the glass of water on the kitchen table. "I better get goin'," I said numbly with saddened eyes.

"This leg can get in a pretty bad state if I don't cool it off with ointment," I explained, massaging my knee to feel out the rhythms of the ripping sensations. Through the splintered shock that had racked my body, I still looked at her with kindness, smiling.

"Thank you for the water. I'll see you around," I appraised, now making my way to her door with a bigger limp than normal. I heard her foot-paw steps behind me.

"Wait," she called out, which forced me to turn no matter what I was presently feeling. I could never resist her.

Her oceanic iris' seemed to glisten slightly.

"You lost family in Junction?" she asked, ears twitched back in a Chimera's way of performing sad reflection.

"Yeah," I answered with a touch of light mourning in my vocals. "But it's in the past. It doesn't matter,"

From that point, she had given a brisk apology for my loss, but I told her not to worry and restated that it wasn't important. Honestly, it wasn't. Misery and sadness can make you a selfish thing, self absorbed to only think of yourself. But in my scope of reality, this wasn't about me anymore. I had said a few more calming words, then hurried off to my truck to quickly head home for a relief. I'd have to phone Torvic in later to say I'd gone home early, though it wasn't necessary. When I made it back to my house I scrambled inside and went to the bathroom, quickly grabbing my medical ointment to help assist the recovery. Left to deal with its own painful ordeal, the muscles could easily tear from increased stress which would take me out of movement for a good long while, not something I desired.

After a while the flaring momentum in my right leg had passed, leaving me to cope with the dwindling sting until I'd weathered the event fully. I decided to get something to eat as an insatiable grumble filtered its way through my stomach, I going to the fridge and grabbing ingredients for a sandwich, making some soup to go with it.

While I ate, I mused over what had occurred some moments ago. Had it all really happened? I'd gotten a call from Journey, headed over to her den, briefly assisted her with something small, and then nearly gotten an opportunity to have a meaningful conversation with her. I was still bitter over the silent nuance my ligament put me through, but it was washed over with the brilliance that I'd made things better concerning Journey's outlook on me. At the end of the day, that's all I could have asked for.

I went to bed that night in a relative sweep of ease. I'd felt more collected with a sense of accomplishment about me, regardless of how small it was. Something was here, about all this, that made me think. She may have taken me aback with her questions, but the way they were placed, the wonder and meaningful sadness in her eyes. It was as though we'd connected.

My only dilemma was to see if things progressed further. The notion was both a terrifying and mesmerizing one.

= - = - = - = - =

Hard, sometimes, to tell how fast weeks can pass you by when it's not a major priority. By the time it was the first few days of October, I was well acquainted with many new folk almost as well as Sade, and I must say, I'd enjoyed it. When I had managed to keep the tattooed reminder of my grim past hidden with shirts with large collars, I'd settled down my nervous apprehension and was able to enjoy a vast amount of company. True, I still was a bit of a recluse in public, but was not so awkward around others and didn't always bolt about if they'd come up from behind. Torvic had even told me I'd gotten good 'reports' from the neighbors in Northmoorse, stating they'd had a good chat with me and was glad I'd become part of the Valley family. Needless to say, I was happy too.

On one occasion I'd had the great pleasure of meeting Sade's family. His wife (or mate), was indeed beautiful, a cream pattern of fur with hedges of a light grey the makeup of her looks, and she was always friendly when I'd been around, giving me some garnished deer for lunch when Sade was having trouble with his sink. There son, Kelder, was a joy as well, a very enthusiastic sprout who liked to show off his collection of bones and oddly shaped rocks. They all helped distort a cloud of loneliness that could easily take me by storm, and I could feel the grime and poison of Junction and everything else finally slip away.

As for Journey, I'd nearly given up on the sentiment of "us" as I really hadn't heard from her after my previous visit, which was weeks ago. Though it pained me through many a time of thinking, I was trying to accept that she was agonized in nature as well and wasn't intrigued in my company. I had to stop my inward thinking and step out of my own walls to understand someone else's hurt, not mainly my own.

I guess, in some cases, it's good to be wrong, and good to be a fool.

Torvic and I were finishing up some business down at the Valley office on a Monday and were prepared to take off for lunch when the phone chimed in. I let the elderly man go on so I could handle the call, and he waved in a friendly manner and was out the door as soon as my fingers touched the plastic handle.

I stated my greeting as I'd done every time. "Hello, Northmoorse community service," came the falsified, recorded tone.

"Lucas? Is that you?"

My name had been used. Again. By who? Journey. Wonderful, beautiful Journey. I immediately straightened up and at was full focus. I heard traces of distress in the vixen's voice.

"Journey? Yeah, it's me. What's up?" echoed my vocals on cruise control, attempting to resound in a casual manner to keep Journey from worrying further, whatever her apparent problem was.

"I need help. I was about to go to lunch from work and my car won't start. It sounds like something popped in the engine," she said with strained alert.

I rubbed my chin. A car problem wasn't good. I had barely any engineering finesse save for knowing my way around massive diesel engines, and that skill was *never* used in practicality. Still, I couldn't abandon her (I'd be a damned idiot to do so), and cobbled up a solution.

"Okay," I intoned, "what do you need? You want me to come pick you up?"

I was careful with the statement. Our last talk had ended a bit roughly, even though we were on (I suppose) good terms, and I didn't want to impose in an overbearing manner.

"Yes. I'll have to leave work early today, I guess, and call a mechanic from home," she responded, rather helplessly as I imagined her circumstances were now a bit locked down.

"Where do you work?"

She hesitated. I perceived that her trust in me to reveal nearly all of her comings and goings wasn't taken too well, a gentle trail of caution about her.

Journey softly breathed out her reply. "The Morrison Communications and Interface building. It's on the east side of Alprite's business area, left of Target," she explained, panning out the details for me to remember. I struggled to muster the image of what I guessed I remembered.

"You mean that really large building? The one that's bigger than the others?" I queried with light uncertainty.

I don't know why, but a grin tugged at the corner of my lips when she affirmed what I'd speculated, as though I'd discovered some great artifact all on my own. I took some paper on the office counter and wrote a few things down on in it, then spoke up again.

"All right. I know exactly where it is! I'll be over there shortly," I said excitedly in my most reassuring manner, doing whatever I could to put the vixen's mind at ease. It must have fallen under such an assault of worry and uncertainty.

The vixen thanked me and gave me her farewell, while I sped right out the office and went to my truck. The prospect of making even more amends for what was an abruptly cut off meeting rattled me with joy, my ambition to both see and help her again enough to ignore everything I'd planned for the day and set my priorities strictly to her.

The streamline hybrid engine to my truck practically roared as I flew down out of Northmoorse Valley and into the intersection that led to the forefront of Alprite. Quite surprisingly, I'd only been this deep into the town for getting groceries and fuel. When I was once again caught up in all the minor bustle that sometimes was the behavior of Alprite, a sense of nostalgia from the days back in Junction dawned on me. As for finding Journey's place of work, that was hardly a difficult endeavor. The Morrison building was practically the holy grail of this humble little community, a combination of both up-to-date technology interfaces and computer hardware, something that was able to keep up with the rest of modern day ingenuity.

I had picked it out in my eye the first day of my arrival here. It was a large, windowed structure with a navy-blue glass exterior that were like still pools of water, while it had a cubical jut in the air as though it were an enormous super computer chassis. It had tube-light letters attached to the hem of its front, all of which stated its company name and purpose to Alprite, diamonds to the king's crown.

I made a few left turns down the freeway and managed to get myself past some of the lunch-time traffic that was starting to swarm up. I had checked my watch and saw the time was almost a quarter after 12, so if Alprite followed up as the rest of society, everyone would be on their noon breaks.

When I fought my way through the near cramped car-lined parking lot, having gotten myself where I wanted, I rode the truck to rest parallel to the Morrison building, preparing to step out and walk inside. However, before I was even able to flick the ignition off, the threshold steel framed doorway opened up, and out stepped the luxuriously wondrous Journey, the sun spotting her with its envious gaze to light up her rosy amber fur once again.

I had not seen this before. I was pleasantly taken to see that she was in a business suit, a satin black blouse with sleeves coming down a little short to her wrists (on purpose) with a matching hued dress that clasped to her knees halfway, while she wore some exposing high heels which were made in design for a morph's foot-paw. Her pretty long face was now touched up with a Chimera specialized blush, one of her flagging ears adorned with a glimmering silver ring, and I could still be graced by her azure eyes as the christening features of her visage. Her field colored hair of chestnut and wheat was swept carefully over her muzzle as well, an indescribable sculpture that was designed by only angels and master craftsmen.

Steadily unlocking the door, I'd fallen head over heels for the vixen once again.

She was able to recognize my Ford truck with ease, though I'm not sure if it was remembered out of fear or necessity. Regardless, Journey saw my vehicle and approached, taking a moment when I waved to her from inside. I think she was still conducting to wonder if she'd really wanted to hop in, and I couldn't blame her. After all, in the truck she had almost no control over anything. Should I have been some maniac she'd be trapped if I'd done something reckless or insane.

Finally, she grasped the door handle and swooped inside, keeping her tail to the right of her so as not to crush it when she sat down. I smiled at her, but I didn't think she'd seen it.

"Hey there, Journey," I opened with a greeting, allowing her to get settled. She somewhat fidgeted with her black furred paws when I was looking at her.

"Hi Lucas," she returned, though it was somewhat of a quiet utterance. I noticed her facial features were a tad worn and strained. The fact she was in 'enemy territory,' so to speak, was making her a bit uneasy, and the car not working certainly wasn't helpful.

"Doing all right?" I asked, lending an emotional hand as I'm sure this wasn't pleasant for her.

She soberly looked at the truck's inside frame.

"It could be better," she said wispily, and I had every right mind to agree with her.

I fought with subjects in my head that would make her relax a bit more. I wanted to show her that I had nothing but good intentions in my heart, as melodramatic as that seemed.

"Okay, so where's the troubled car?" I asked cheerily to lighten the atmosphere, adjusting the automatic shift for 'drive'. The fox morph looked up, scanning the parking lot with her eyes before pointing in a direction to the angled left.

"It's parked in the third section. A white Mitsubishi, I think," she said with a little less shaken nerves in her tone, distracted from her current position.

I nodded and gassed the truck, though mentally cringing when she said Mitsubishi. If I wasn't mistaken, they had given up on combustion and fuel injected engines a while back, so I would have no inclination as to what the problem was. Then, for a second, an answer sprang into my conscious. I realized now why Journey was so apprehensive. I expected her to simply be restless in my presence, but, faced with the unknown of a bad car and financial problems she might confront, no wonder the poor girl was thumping her tail nervously.

I didn't mention anything about the vehicle, only found it with a successful mumble and parked up next to the white curved machine. I switched off the ignition, Journey and I exiting the truck while I frowned with an exasperated mental 'darn' at seeing the metal beast.

It was a Mitsubishi Axis, one that was composed of fuel types and engine parts that were very new to the field of on-road travel, and I looked at it like I was staring at an unfamiliar alien body. I noticed Journey was watching me from the side, glancing to the car then to my face in hope that I knew what the issue consuming the automobile was. Sadly, I did not, but at least made an attempt by yanking up the hood with a completely obsolete database on how to repair new models such as this.

I was at an entire loss. Nothing of this mechanical debacle made even the slightest bit of sense to me. But, some of the patterns by which the wiring and engine was set up looked relatively familiar, and I was at least satisfied to know that it wasn't anything serious. The 'pop' Journey had heard could've been an old part finally blown out of its warranty, or something as minor as an object coming loose, but it wasn't drastic, not by the very least.

Journey piped in when my brow was furrowed in a brainstorm.

"Can you tell what's wrong with it?" she queried in such a way that was at the knife's edge of both hope and despair. I didn't want to put the vixen morph's mind at any more distress, so I chose my words carefully.

"Unfortunately, no. The Axis has a lot of parts that were new to the market when it first came out, so I can barely recognize anything here. However, I can tell it's nothing serious. The engine's intact and none of the crucial welds are broken. Jumper fell off, maybe," I mused with a few taps to the inside of the polished steel, making a double check so I was certain I hadn't missed anything.

A loss of mirth in Journey's voice told me this upset her.

"So you can't fix it?" said she, a question that left me feeling rather dumb and inadequate. I grudgingly shook my head, but wasn't about to leave her with this minor inconvenience.

"I doubt it. Where'd you get this from?"

Journey's ears tugged down a pinch. A fragile wave of mourning carved its way over her facade. Something had jolted up in memory and I immediately scorned myself for bringing it up.

"My aunt gave it to me in California," she stated miserably, without adding anything more as her tail drooped and her pointed ears flattened.

"I don't know if I can afford to fix this," she mumbled numbly, which was more or less just her thinking out loud, not her dropping a hint for something my way.

Of course, my solution was simple. It was nothing detrimental to me and I never had a struggle with money like so many unfortunate people I'd met in my time. I decided I would get it out of the way for her. First though, I'd take her away from the concept of the broken Mitsubishi.

"Don't you worry about that," I reassured in a hearty mannerism. "It'll get taken care of."

Her gaze went to me. Curiosity and confusion had mounted themselves in her eyes while her brow crooked, a reaction that played out the scenario that I was either lying or really did have a solution. I was cemented to make sure that her sudden need to believe that I was expressing the truth was not in vain.

I flicked my eyes to my watch to see the time, which was still a little after noon. An inkling spawned itself in my crafty wishful thinking, and I decided to see what things were really like between the vulpine and I.

"Hey, it's lunch right now. Do you wanna' grab something to eat?" I invited, thanking myself for lacking any nervous clicks to my voice.

Journey studied me wearily for a moment, but not for long.

"What about the car?" came her melodic plea. She didn't want to abandon it.

I gave her a smug look that resonated I'd had a solution, though not in a way to be offensive. I patted the roof of the Mitsubishi and made a calming gesture with my answer at hand.

"Torvic actually has a tow-truck up at the office. I can come back later and bring it to the nearest mechanic, if you want," I offered, with a small hint as to what I'd prospected for her automotive problem.

The vixen tilted her head, contemplating my words. If only I'd known what she was thinking. If only I knew the exact thing to say to make her feel better.

"I need to think about it,"

A silence filled the gap between us in the breezy October air. I hushed myself, letting the vixen Chimera decide for herself. I actually thought about the digits 72-47-44 to escape the uncoiled anxiety cooling my gut.

"Would you mind if I picked the place to eat?" she said with just a hint more resolve about her. Thank God. Relief. I subdued a grin to not appear overly enthralled; I would have done a backflip if it were appropriate at the time.

She had directed me to a place that was somewhat like a vintage fast food stop with a very classic aura about it. Her notion for going was that it always brightened her spirits for being a simple environment with tasty food, and I complimented by saying it was good she'd found something to boost her mood. I'd mentioned that I'd done something similar (for the sake of conversation) by listening to Bobby Vinton whenever I felt low, though she hadn't any idea who I was referring to. I joked a bit by stating she'd have to hear some of his songs if we'd gotten the chance. I was so blinded by this common talk we'd gotten on the mark on my neck vanished into vapor.

When we were seated after ordering-I engorging my hunger with a double stacked burger and she with a ginger chicken salad-Journey was apt to resume conversing about the Mitsubishi. I understood the fox Chimera would have no peace until the issue was eventually solved, and I respected her enthusiasm for wanting it out of the way juxtaposed to procrastination.

She sighed after a bite of meaty chicken, licking her muzzle lips with a sideways glance to the floor.

"There's a decent mechanic in town I know of," she had spoken up while I was busy wiping my mouth with a napkin, "but I can't be out of work if I'm getting the car fixed. I won't have enough money. I can't afford a taxi, and I'm not sure I'll even have enough for food," she intoned in defeat, facing her fate in the eye with a stare of apprehension and worry.

I simply waited for her to allow the problems to flow, aware of my absolute that would rectify all the issues in one fell sweep. I chewed peaceably, grunting a silent burp when I placed the napkin on the table, tapping my fingers.

"You don't need to worry," I said evenly, negating her increasing worry with my own implied calmness.

Her eyes came to me, full of shock at my own dismissal of what was a steadily mounting problem. She was in relatively agitated disbelief.

"How could you possibly be sure of that?" she asked crisply, a sting that I minded not.

I took another bite out of my food, swallowed, and then let the words pour out.

"Because," I said, bubbles in my throat, "I'll pay for it. I've got plenty of money to burn and I don't mind a bit,"

Based on our past experiences, I was pretty sure she wouldn't warm up to the idea in an instant. Sure enough, her muzzle parted, her brow narrowed, and a flabbergasted expression took her long vulpine features by storm. Perhaps she was offended by charity of some such magnitude, but, if it meant helping her out in her time of need, then so be it. Taking weight off her shoulders was more important to me than a personal gain from her side, and that's something I was now accepting.

"What? Oh, Lucas no, you don't have to," she contested, earnest in those syllables as false as that would look to some. "I know I can come up with the money, I just have to figure things out,"

I did a shake of the head since I'd made up my mind.

"It's obvious to me that's going to cause you a lot of stress. I couldn't very well be a friendly neighbor and let you jumble with the car problem on your own," I countered amiably, letting my decision take full scope.

"I couldn't possibly accept this. . . you've done plenty for me all ready,"

I paid it no mind. "If this was to offend you, then by Lord, I'd rather you hate me and have no car trouble than tolerate me and still suffer with this mechanical problem. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor, here,"

She shook her head slowly, in disbelief, eyes downcast and solemn. A while back, I would have concerned myself if she would have angrily spat at me or joyfully accepted. Right now, for the first time in years, I had no concern over myself. Everything about my sadness and misery I had stepped out of to sincerely help another person, wishing them the best, no matter what the outcome would have in terms of how she felt about me. It was worth it to see her happy.

Her features softened and her ears perked, head raising. An explosion of warmth flooding me like a river as one of her paws touched the top of my hand, which was resting on the table. A few seconds it took for my brain to fully register this. I snapped my stare to her, so light hearted as I witnessed a tender smile was creased upon her. It was the first time I'd seen Journey like that.

"But why?" she whispered out, the sound gracing my ears and causing goose-bumps to electrify my skin.

I drank in her touch, but cobbled up my senses to round up a response.

"Like I said," I attempted weakly, "I've got money to burn,"

A lie, of course. I couldn't very well blurt out that seeing her had made every day of my life a wonderful and painful experience at the same time. I could not tell her that I was cold when she wasn't near, but fiery when I all but glanced at her. I could not let my feelings pass their dirt cage. . . not yet.

Most amusingly, she knew I was lying as well. A Chimera's senses of the body were both instinctual and intuitive. Her smile brightened as the childish false answer was in place, and I saw something in her eyes that I hadn't before. Hope? Relief? Thankfulness? A transformation, and I was only a spectator, not the engineer behind it.

We finished up after a bit, packing back into my Ford truck, as I'd told her I'd take her home and get her car taken care of later. On the way, to my grand surprise, Journey was still content to work the rest of the week, and asked me if I would drive her there and then pick her up. The answer was like that of a child being queried if they'd wanted a lifetime supply of ice cream. I was overjoyed she'd suggested it, and never before had my senses felt so alive, so rich and vibrant as everything practically increased in essence, a rainfall of living colors and orchestrated music. Like a transformation had occurred with the vixen, so had a similar reaction taken place within me, a grave finally passing, a tomb coming undone.

I stopped at her house and tried to keep myself from beaming constantly. Before she got out, I dared to do one more thing. It was a great risk, no doubt, but one I was prepared to take.

"Journey?" I called her gently. She turned to look back at me, her blue eyes trapping me in a glacial haze. She didn't look resentful.

"Uh, hey, in case you need help again," I started, shuffling through my pocket for a scrap of paper I'd kept on hand, "feel free to give me a ring. . . if no one else can. To be safe, y'know?" I compiled out, my wits lost and my motives obvious.

There wasn't a hint of reluctance or distaste in her gaze. I could have been in Heaven itself when she took it without hesitation, a final signal that I'd managed to earn her trust. I shivered once more when her paws barely graced my skin, holding to the sensation in my mind's eye for as long as possible.

"I'll be sure to," she chimed back with such a velvet sweetness. "Thanks for everything, Lucas,"

I watched her return home. Every last magnificent inch of her did I absorb until she was out of sight, I driving off in not a humbled remorse, but explosive happiness.

I stopped by the house to freshen up. I phoned Torvic to let him know I was getting the tow-truck to help out Journey, he affirming that by unlocking the office garage when I would arrive. I was prepared to head out the door, reflecting somewhat on the comings and goings of everything, the pace, the time.

Then, something began to flood through me. Those past moments with the vixen had been so pleasant and memorable. I wanted to hold onto them forever, take the images from my conscious dreams and create them anew in my own image. It hit me.

As a teenager, before events in my world spiraled into a chaotic hurricane, I remembered a passion of mine. I was deeply absorbed in sketching and drafting pictures with the rough smudging of vine charcoal. A ministry of talent did I have, and perhaps it would have bloomed were things different in the darker years. The urge now returning, my body no longer one of pained regret and escaping torment, I concluded to return to my old ways of creation. Yes! An internal celebration for all the success! Why not? It was truly time to send myself in a new direction.

I was completely effusive. I needed to share these revelations with someone. Even still, I could've very well been lost about the ordeals happening now. I needed advice, assistance, a wise bit of guidance from a more experienced person. I'd only had one sweetheart in my life, but that was in youth, and it was a petrified, forgotten memory, with nothing to draw from.

I must have been out of my mind, but I disregarded most logistical paths my brain was attempting to spark through me. I dialed up Sade's home number, and fluttered when the hook was picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" came the calm peace of his mate's tone, Sylira. It didn't bother me that Sade hadn't answered, his lupine wife was just as friendly and amicable.

"Hey Sylira, it's Lucas," I said with clarity, scratching the area of my neck where it was marked. I could here the wolf woman murr in throaty glee.

"Oh, hello Lucas. How are you?" she returned with her never ending kindness. I smirked at her emotional charity.

"Fantastic actually. I'm uh, calling for a bit of help. Is Sade around?"

I did a silent click of the tongue. I rather came off as a kid wondering if his best friend was home. Then again, we were kind of the same thing. The lupine man had become one of the closest comrades I'd ever had. Sylira, in all her native understandings, obliged, telling me to hold while she gathered her mate.

It was only a minute or so before Sade's voice crackled through the minor electronic fuzz of the phone. I greeted him, and his voice sparkled upon hearing my call.

"Mr. Roswell!" he had exclaimed, a bit of a running joke for him, "you need something buddy?"

I was both nervous and excited. I couldn't possibly have gone over what had happened over the phone. I had to speak with him in person.

"Yeah. Sade, you wanna' help me tow a car?"

= - = - = - = - =

My lupine friend was in an uproar of laughter and chuckles, all of which were expressed in a kind of 'congratulations' on my part. I held nothing back as I returned into Alprite an hour or so past noon, telling him of Journey appeared to me during our first encounter, then what she'd said at the last. I strung together every fragment and memory I had, from her sublime warm touch to her initial coolness and agitation for my presence. The wolf Chimera had agreed on the note that Journey was always a bit distant to people in Northmoorse, especially strangers, and said the vixen only touched base with Sylira and a few others every so often. He had said that he was happy I'd taken an interest in her, and to that, I was no longer able to deny anything.

"She *has* been looking for someone. I saw that when she first moved to Northmoorse," he'd brought up when we were just in sight of the Morrison building. "A friend, you know, to share her past with. Very much like yourself, Lucas,"

His statement made my head turn to him.

His yellow eyes sighted mine, and a twinkle rang through them, precisely like our first meeting.

"I know you've been keeping the years behind you locked up tight, and I won't force you to talk about any of it. Only know that you're not alone. If you can't share it with the community, then let yourself open up to Journey. I can only guess the hardships you two have suffered. By getting together, you can help the wounds heal," he offered wisely.

I scoffed, not insultingly, just out of pure disbelief.

"Together? Oh come on. I doubt she'll even think of me like that. At most, only as a friend, and a minor one, too," I challenged, for an odd reason defending the statistics against me, rather than for me. Sade only chuckled and nudged my shoulder.

"Don't be too sure. You forget that Sylira and Journey talk every now and then. She's mentioned you before. Said you were odd, but generous,"

Heat boiled up in my face and I felt a rather heavy blush take my skin. Well. . . simply because Journey had brought me up in subject didn't mean it was a good thing. She could all but still hate me and have a clever way of hiding it. But. . . no. I knew it wasn't that way. Yet why was I so afraid that there were positive emotions towards me from the vixen? Was I frightened of what it might become? Was I afraid. . . to love?

Don't get me wrong. I love Sade like a brother and his family as if they were my own. He exhibited a grandiose magnitude of kindness you normally can't find in people today, if a Chimera, even. He'd done nothing but aid me as all this was unwinding and was there for support. There was no way I would hold that against him.

However, familiar love and romantic love are two completely different things. If Journey eventually grew feelings for me, what could I possibly offer her? My broken heart and spirit that were as weak as my hitched limp? A simplified, terrifying prospect indeed.

I was a bit silent when we tagged up Journey's Mitsubishi and hauled it off toward the aforementioned mechanic. Sade had done most of the talking, since he knew Alprite in-laws far better than I did, so I hardly interfered, only paid for their 'inspection' fee and let the car in peace to be fixed. This made Sade chortle even more when he'd found out I was paying for Journey's expenses.

I had one last stop to make. I was resolute in my personal promise to pick up some vine charcoal, and gestured for the lupine to follow me when I'd stopped in the Target parking lot. While we were inside, I browsing through a rather sparse amount of art supplies, the wolf morph had started to explain something that was nigh avoidable: the Fall get together of the entire Northmoorse neighborhood. He picketed my attention with a noise while I was studying a small box of vine charcoal.

"Well," he baited, "are you going to come?"

I shook my head in confusion, at first. I didn't know what he was speaking of.

"Come to what?" I responded in question politely, eyes now tracing over some stacks of large eighteen by twenty-four paper.

"Our little Valley's Fall commute. You haven't gotten to meet the whole neighborhood yet," he invoked, tugging on the flank of his shirt as he did. "You really should come,"

My thoughts when blank for a few moments. A challenge something like that would be. All right, I'd managed to get along with a good few people through the weeks as a community assistant. Did that mean I could face the whole collective aggregation of them? My neck stung where the mark was, growing hot like the first time the metal had been stamped into my flesh.

Number 72-47-44.

"Only if you want to though," he added. "I understand your nervousness in big crowds."

I looked to him, my brows wrinkled and furrowed with confusion and loss of what I should do. He always kept a serenity about him, Sade did, and that charisma he was inflecting tried to inform me that it would be for the better, it would have no harm, that I could be accepted here.

That notion coming from someone who had no idea what I was tied with.

I batted away the filthy bitterness in my thoughts. There wasn't any need for hostility. If I was able to keep the imprint away from everyone, then the event would possibly go off without a hitch. I had to start embracing the wheels of change, as fast as they'd arrived, with open arms and not resilience.

"I think even," Sade continued, "I could pull a few strings to get Journey to attend. She might actually warm up to the idea with you around, Lucas,"

There was a warming earnestness in his rumbling voice. The lupine was pushing me to something that he believed was my key to greater joy. In fact, I could hardly combat what he was advising. He was mated, he had a son, he had more experience in relationships than I could ever account for. If he placed in aspect that going would be a sound idea, then my trepidation quelled and courage took its place.

All so quick and so sudden. I was glad Journey was closer to trusting me than I'd expected, yet I could only ponder what all the events before meant. Her reluctance to me wasn't something I ignored, and I wondered if Sylira and Sade had overlooked that.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, mindlessly grabbing on to some sturdy appearing paper as my attention was full to him. The wolf smiled warmly, one wag of his tail.

"Live." he stated simply, leaving it at that. I didn't react, only engulfed and consumed the word.

Live, it repeated.

From that point, Sade mentioned that the festive event would start on October 20th, which was roughly a week and a few days from now. With those facts in mind, I agreed in effort that I'd show up, giving my word and promise I'd do my best to enjoy myself. That made him thankful and happy, as I'd guessed. Once it was time, he'd tell me where the meet was, as the location would often shift depending on the weather or mood of the community.

Time permitting, we headed back to the mechanic to see what the problem had been. For me, it was garble I couldn't make sense of, but I was right in my guessing that the issue wasn't serious. The oil smitten man whom worked the car said it would be ready in a day or so, and the price roughly some odd several hundred dollars. I hardly noted the price, a fraction of money never a concurrent problem for me, as you know.

I was both glad and lightly disappointed when I heard it. Glad, because it was a minor detail that wouldn't cause too much implication to Journey's life. Disappointed, simply because I'd only be able to drive the vixen to work a day or two, which meant I'd have to take in every precious second I had while she was with me in the truck.

Afternoon sunshine was rolling in when I'd driven Sade and myself back to Northmoorse. I stopped at his home and dropped him off, the lupine granting me a friendly hug and heading to his den with a whistle, while I dropped off the tow-truck at Torvic's office. The old human had left all ready, as I parked the vehicle in the garage next to my own, granting the chap a favor by locking up for him as I transported my own automotive to the brick red threshold of my garage.

I hadn't spent the rest of the day doing much else, but, that night, my reborn passion for art quickly took hold. I had realized that with little on the agenda, I was allowed hours to see if I was still as taken by the medium as I was during my youth. To my great relief and wonder, I was.

I had let the thin stripes of fragile black sketch for me so many things from so many years. Distant memories were reborn in new satin and white images that were drenched in a field of emotions. Buildings, cities, people, all of that had gone into the immense 18x24 paper sheets with a type of burden being lifted from my shoulders, if only just. One in particular I was excited to create.

I had taken a good, clean hour to do this one picture in particular. I was careful with all the edges and curves, the eyes, the background, the slightest detail not sketched with any lack of effort. My fingers and hands were filthy from the charcoal smudges I'd use to create the separate lighting effects, and my shirt was plastered with dashes of grey by the time I was finished. Stepping back to see the artwork in full view, I smiled. I had done a picture of Journey, the memory in question our time at the eatery, I catching her intensive beauty with gusto as she had once taken a moment to gaze onward to the outside. I felt myself get electrified goose-bumps like the vixen were sitting there in front of me. Prizing it like a sacred artifact, I took a couple of thumbtacks and nailed it to the wall, yawning as it was almost half past ten.

I stripped down and headed for bed. I had to remember I'd need to pick up Journey in the morning, so I'd set my clock for seven to be safe. Limping to my mattress, I hoisted the covers over me and took what I thought was going to be a peaceful sleep.

= - = - = - = - =

The alarm buzzed me awake. Like a gnawing grind to the ears, the high pitched electronic 'beeps' whirled through my sound reception, popping my eyelids open. I sat up, stretched, and switched the clock off with a practiced flick. My room had a cool darkness about it, as the sun was still yet to fully rise and cast everything with its light. Shaking my head, I sprang up and got ready to pick up Journey, cleaning myself in the usual manner, flipping on clothes that were comfortable and able to hide my neck mark, while munching on just a couple slices of jelly toast before readying myself to leave.

When I waltzed about my house, scrambling to collect my keys and wallet, I felt my throat grow a bit dry. All these meetings happening so rapidly, as few as they were, I thought. I had to play this one out as carefully and cautiously as before. I wrinkled my brow in thought. The other day I had joked about letting her listen to the classics of Bobby Vinton. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea, now. I wasn't certain how the fox viewed me, but I at least held her as a friend in my heart, and I wanted to share something with her, something special.

I nodded to no one, doing precisely that, grabbing a Vinton CD and flying out the door at almost half past seven, or so. I didn't know exactly what Journey's time frame was, but she had to be at work by roughly eight, so I took no risks and arrived at her home with relative gusto. I must have been right on the hunch, since she came out of her den the near second my truck pulled up and I waved through the Ford's window.

She was in another business dress like yesterday, walking through the morning chill, and I couldn't help but think back to the picture at home that framed her in nearly the precisely same manner. When she opened the door with a complacent look about her, I was quick to compliment her very orderly yet pretty visage she'd set up for work. It was sincere in it, too.

"Morning, Journey," I greeted, giving her a quick smile. She did the same, though a little more faintly.

"Morning," she responded, setting her purse down carefully between her lower legs, under the seat. I noticed she had an ample perfume that daintily surrounded her, mixing well with her rather spicy musk.

I shifted the automatic gears before adding, "You look very nice,"

She did a little bob of the head and blushed. Well, suffice to say, Chimera don't have a reddening of the skin that is visible like humans, but in terms of a female morph, I'd noted how their ears would waver down, their head would lower in almost submissive way, and they would smile. Journey did just that.

"Oh. . . thank you," she softly replied. Funnily, it actually sounded surprised, as though she didn't expect to hear that from me. Or maybe from anyone, for that matter.

I had driven up to an intersection which would eventually lead us into Alprite before I took the audio case and waved it in the air, checking my turns to see if anyone was coming. The vixen noted my gesture and looked at me curiously.

"Wanna' here some Bobby Vinton?" I queried playfully, a sharp gleam in my eye.

I was happy to see there was no tension in her body as I asked this. Her softened features acknowledged with a slight nod and timid "okay," while I happily plugged in the CD to let the sounds play up. The near few seconds the music enthralled the inside of my truck, the vulpine morph instantly became entranced. Well, perhaps not that extreme, but through the corner of my eye, I could see her enjoying the songs, her pointed ears flicking to grasp every fragment of the vocalized sonatas. We had just passed Merv's before my personal favorite, 'Blue Velvet,' came into course. I grunted in satisfaction.

"Oh, I love this one," I announced out loud. Journey took my reaction and listened intently, exploring my reason. By the time the song had passed midway, Journey spoke up.

"I like it, too,"

_Ours a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow,

Like a flame burning brightly,

But when she left, gone was the glow,_

I didn't disagree with her. It was a wonderful piece that no doubt touched many hearts through the years. When the world would bathe itself in darkness and blood, a bit of simple music did wonders to get away from the nightmares of modern day conflicts.

The time was ten minutes to eight before I was just a few hundred yards from the Morrison building. Journey had mentioned she was getting a coworker to bring her to lunch, so with a hole in my scheme of charity, I decided to end this friendly service of mine on a good note, as reluctant as my desire was. Indeed, I could have lied, could have done something for my own personal gain, but I vowed against it. Temptation had been mocking me much in the face, and every time I would resist, though with a somber soul each instance.

"Well, Journey, before you head off, I've got some great news," I ousted warmly, catching the vixen's attention briefly when the fourth Bobby Vinton song subsided. She tilted her head, watching me with her dazzling blue eyes.

"It turns out your Axis wasn't in too much jeopardy. I went. . ." I halted briefly, deciding to not mention Sade, "up there to get the full deal. Something in your engine broke down and fissured, but it wasn't serious. It should be ready around tomorrow in the afternoon," I panned out amiably, relinquishing the good news with pride.

Journey brightened. She smiled in a way that was much more joy stricken than the others, lacking any grief, trouble, or stress to weigh it down. Her puff tail thumped happily, and she stroked a lock of her wheat-chestnut hair, perhaps in a way to contain some other such emotive.

"I told you it was nothing to worry about," I attached before she could say anything. It was true, really. I never liked having to deal with an ominous negative prospect in the future, so it warmed my chest just to evict that burden from her.

"That's. . . great," she kind of mumbled out in glittering raindrops of cheer. I think she was caught in betwixt disbelief and the wonder as to why I'd even do such a thing. If that was the case, was it really that hard for her to imagine a charitable person? Or human, for that matter? What had gone on in California that had gave her such a shy, reluctant personality of shaky distrust?

"Lucas, that means a lot," she almost whispered when I'd driven up to the Morrison compound to rest the truck parallel to the building.

"What you did, I mean. It helps,"

I kept my gaze to the truck's dashboard for a few seconds. I was picking my words carefully like deciding between sweet grapes or acidic berries. Finally, I answered her.

"Hey, what are friends for?" I said, taking the dive and daring to move things further. Further to what, I still didn't know.

The words sunk in to Journey for a moment. I was terrified and hopeful as so often I'd been when in her presence. My chest was lit with flames but my stomach cold and hollow. I waited steadily for her reaction, the seconds going by like hours, the distance between us shrinking, the air thicker, the world stopping. I saw her black furred paw go to her eye. A little tearful condensation had built up in her iris'. I was alert and instantaneously furious with myself as I saw a pained sadness tag her face once again.

"Journey? What's wrong?" was about all I could manage.

I didn't get a chance to say anything more when she calmly opened the door and stepped out, grabbing her purse. She sniffed and hugged herself with one arm, breathing quickly to fight back what I surmised was the urge to cry.

"Nothing, no. . . it's. . ." replied her clenched words, wounded by the anguish in her throat.

"Just meet me at three, okay?"

She left. I may as well have slammed my skull into the wheel right then. What was it I had said? Did I offend her. . . again? Or was it an item of different measure? She hadn't appeared angry with me. Distressed was the appropriate term. A memory. A reminder of the older times in California. Did it have to do with a friend? Was that the key word? Friend? I thought back to Sade's words from yesterday.

'I can only guess the hardships you two have suffered.'

Too many of them. I might've said that should I had the courage to.

Shaking my head, I didn't pursue the subject in my conscious thoughts. I felt guilty as quickly as I was beaming. Why was it our every meeting I had to be so stupid? Always taking the risks that were completely unnecessary.

I went home with an old scar tearing open. Guilt. Guilt for the mourning I'd caused to Journey, and a past action I'd never forgiven myself for, and never would. That sole decision I had made was nearly the entire reason for so much of my suffering. Should I have done the right thing, I could've pieced things back together, built back what was broken, finally have the opportunity to say "I'm sorry." In defense, my thoughts countered me.

If you hadn't run, you wouldn't know Journey.

It did little to help. Emotions and your thought capacity are too very different things, sometimes interchangeable at the wrong moment. The seething devastation eating away at my insides was all too familiar, and it had no outlet, no escape, so it would fester their, rotting, grinding. I could only find one way to deal with the ire of what past and present were cobbling together.

I was in my room, a stick of vine charcoal in my hand. There on the wall was Journey, the precious fox morph whom meant the world to me, a life I wanted to comfort, cherish, protect. It was mocking my indignity with contemptuous wrath. I had caused the vixen pain one too many times. One too many flaws I had presented. One too many mistakes I was making.

I yanked up a piece of the large canvas paper from a stack and furiously started to mark it. My lines were jagged and cutting, a knife to my agony, the shading dark and grim and the featured idea a combination of so many horrific emotions. I formed the body, thin, skeletal, emaciated and pale with dirt and grime to cover the skin. The clothes were ripped and worn, thin strips of cloth that did nothing but hide one's nudity from shame. The eyes were sunken and blank, empty chasms that were filled with apprehension for what would be next. The face was sad, diseased, and beaten. Upon the shaved forehead I 'carved' in one major, presenting word that had blighted me for nearly a decade.

Coward.

Below the word, I inscribed the digits I was all too familiar with. 72. 47. 44.

I'm not sure how long I was locked up in my room, but for such a time, I was gazing at the completed picture, looking at the devastated body and mulling in its meaning. A sore that would grow like an infection. A cut that would never cease to bleed. An injury never to heal. I stood from my bed, angrily watching the face, as though wanting to strike it.

"Coward!" I yelled, directed to the still monotone visage looking back at me.

"Coward!!!" I repeated, though screaming at the top of my lungs as an indescribable rage lit my veins and set me in a blaze of both shame and hatred.

I slumped to the floor and felt the back of my neck. I thought about scratching and scraping the area, but it would do no good. The mark was imprinted in a type of burning ink that had become part of the skin pattern. It would come back, even if I'd sliced it off, for Lord's sake. My weakened leg started to tingle in the essence of my own stress. I didn't blame it. I calmed myself and headed to the bathroom, grabbing some ointment to shirk off the jabbing sensations.

Oh God, what was I doing? Practically crumpled to the floor feeling sorry for myself changed nothing, only me. The most important thing was that Journey was hurting, and that was enough to bring my focus elsewhere.

A little shower soon after to get the smudge marks off my fingers did me some good, and a calm lunch was even better. Not wanting to be imprisoned in my own home to face the picture I'd created and aches I'd conjured, I walked to the backyard and admired the heavenly peace swarming over the lake. The water wasn't too murky, as a dock attached to my yard allowed me to see the bottom of the water, little fish and tadpoles jittering around in an attempt to escape my shadow. From the dock, I could also see a good bit of the community, from each house that was close to the waters as well, all tightly knit together in a massive family of friends who cared about the other. A home I'd been missing for years.

The best thing to do, I decided, was to bring my feelings back into a less callous state. I returned to the community office with Torvic, and aided him in fixing a plumbing problem that was caused by a few broken pipes in the building. We didn't get many calls, except for two, one of which Torvic handled, and the other who was unfamiliar to me. She was Naila Danson, one of the only other fox morphs in the Valley that I'd recollected based on a mention from Sade. I somewhat thought against it, going to her 'den', since I wasn't sure seeing another vulpine was a good thing if I'd be reminded of Journey, but I went, disregarding the alert in my gut.

She was a friendly woman, in her fifties, I believe, with three sons and two daughters, while her husband had passed away some two years ago (these were my initial replacement of terms from Chimera to human). I was terribly sorry for her, but she appraised me for my concern and wisely put the 'past was the past,' and that only the good memories mattered. I agreed, but only to an extent. Putting the old days away didn't come so easily for me.

I left when I'd finished assisting her with some garden work, and she asked me if I was attending the Autumn get together. I affirmed it, saying I'd hope to see her there, then politely took my leave, and was off for home in a better mood than the morning, if only slightly.

I hesitated and was growing nervous when three o'clock was just around the corner. I was pacing back and forth with my hitched stride, until the nuances in my head forced me to get out the door. I felt like choking when I'd gotten in the truck and my hands were on the wheel, shaking as I'd feared Journey would come back to me as she'd done so the first time: with reluctance and distaste.

Ten minutes I sat in the Ford, until igniting the engine and backing out of my garage.

Everything was a blur driving back into Alprite. The traffic, the vehicles, the lights, the buildings. The Fall colors of golden and scarlet seemed to mesh in with all objects in a kind of ruby vortex threatening to swallow me up in a hypnotic daze. My emotions were growing turbulent when the Morrison structure was in sight, and bursting when I was weaving through the parking lot. I stopped, reclined in the same spot as the morning, and waited, patiently and nervously.

I felt chilled like the dreadful arctic ice when time passed on with no vixen in sight. I was certain she'd wanted no part in my company. Perhaps it wasn't me entirely this time, but her tears represented there was an awful recollection she'd experienced, and being around myself could bring it back. If it did cause her that kind of anguish, then it was for the best.

I was wrong. I've said it before: sometimes it's good to be a fool.

She walked out the building, though a bit more slowly, keeping here blue eyes elsewhere when she arrived to the truck. I opened the door for her and let her ease in at her own pace, watching as she looked a bit stiff, tail wrapped at her leg with rigid tension. I wanted to quickly make amends.

"Hey, Journey," I toned gently, as if raising my voice would shatter her like glass. She breathed in deeply when she sat, arms hugging her stomach, gaze downcast.

A sigh.

"I'm sorry for this morning, Lucas," she breathed out in apology. I winced. Hearing her feel bad on my account was as lethal as a stab to the chest.

I would've said something to reassure her, but she stopped me.

"You've been very kind these past months. It wasn't you that upset me, this morning. It was just a memory. When you called me a friend. . . I. . ." her voice wavered, tightening. I put a hand on her shoulder, but didn't interrupt.

"I remembered losing someone,"

She placed the sentence there weakly. I found a surge of warmth when her paw went to my hand, apply the lightest of squeezes, the padding a silky touch to my skin.

Indeed it was so, there was in fact a death in her memory of California. The aunt, maybe? A close person, that was certain. Actually, in all my observations and self-centered thinking, I hadn't realized that there may have been a love before in her past. Journey may have been mending over the broken ties of a sweetheart, or yet, a mate. How could I have been so blind to see past that? All my ranting of how I cared for this vulpine morph, yet I'd taken none of her life into consideration, only confused it with my own.

I took my gaze elsewhere, searching for the words, hunting for the phrase. Whatever I found came as idle and brittle. Finally, I suggested on something else.

"You don't have to be alone with the pain," I uttered out statically. The vixen's ears and focus went to me. Exactly who was I talking to? Myself or Journey?

"Sometimes the weight of our memories burdens us too heavily. If. . . you ever feel those bad things are taking hold, find someone. Talk to them," I advised, a little too poetically for my tastes. I scanned that sentence for its meaning. I wondered if I was echoing Sade's wisdom to me, or was pulling from what I'd known since the beginning.

Silence. I didn't move my hand until Journey had removed her paw. In robotic fashion, I readied the shift of the Ford's engine, and had almost pressed the gas, when the vixen grasped my attention with her melodic tone.

"You're right, Lucas," she agreed in but above a whisper. "You're right, and I thank you as a friend for telling me,"

The sentence trailed off and I started to drive. The full impact of what she'd told me hadn't taken course through my brain, nor my realization. What did she say? She referred to me as a. . . friend? I gulped.

We were a little ways out of Alprite when she spoke again.

"Can I listen to Bobby Vinton one more time?"

I chuckled, grinned, and was more than happy to oblige. In fact, I might as well have been the kid who inherited the world's largest candy store. The emotional roller coaster of ups and downs had pulled me through so many loops, but now, at the end of so much, I'd gotten on fantastic terms with Journey, which was more than enough for me. As the words of Bobby Vinton went on in a dreamy fashion, I lost all reason to be nervous or apprehensive towards the vixen. Closer and closer we were being drawn, but I'd be satisfied right where I was: the fox's friend.

Blue Velvet wrought its sing-song tune, and I was placed into a happy world far from where Northmoorse had put me.

_Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm, a memory

Through the years

And I still can see blue velvet

Through my tears_

The vixen went home with a new spring in her step. I'd told her I'd take her to get the Mitsubishi the afternoon tomorrow, if it was ready, and went home on a note I can't even begin to describe. I rushed backed to my house, got inside, and first went to my room, facing the vine-charcoal sketch of Journey.

Next to her name, I added one thing: 'She has my heart, therefore I am dead without her.'

= - = - = - = - =

It was October 21st the Autumn celebration of the Valley's inhabitants was to take place. Every year, the location would change sometimes for a variety of reasons, whether it was a wildcard, someone volunteering their property, or the weather causing a shift in the terrain's scape of stability. This, of course, was all informed to me by Sade, who'd called up a day before the event to get the details relayed. According to him, everyone was planning on attending for those who could make it, and even people who were on business trips or in different cities were making an effort to come back for the gathering. That hadn't settled my nerves by the slightest, but a kinship that sprouted between Journey and I over the two weeks gave me strength to try my best.

The Sunday weather was incredible. The opaque sky was barely splashed with a few puffy white clouds sailing in adrift, and a comfortable temperature of about sixty-nine degrees had gotten everyone in pleasant spirits, as Chimera weren't bothered from chilly breezes due to their fur, and the human folk only had to wear a sweater or so. Leaves of honey and rosy tints had fallen from their prospective oaks and yews and were swirling about in the wind, while the lake itself came to life with a sparkling sheen as everyone made ready to attend this grandiose event.

It was being spearheaded by both Torvic and the Harmane couple, a mated mare and steed who'd even gotten their son, Breasal, to fly from Derrybrook, Ireland from his efforts for peace unions and Chimera rights. They were both wise, seasoned creatures who'd been around almost as long as Torvic, sharing his sentiments for peace between the races that directed the personality of Northmoorse Valley. Once again, I had to thank Sade and Sylira for that information.

The designation in place was elected by Torvic himself, which was nigh but a mansion that had an incredibly large sloped hill that ended right at the tip of the lake, enough to collect all the neighbors in comfort. While the man had little to say when working and could almost be remembered as gruff and coarse, he was tender at heart, and had told me once he was the "Santa Claus" of Northmoorse for being such a sugar-tongue.

I was looking at myself in the mirror before leaving. I eyed the black lined sweater grasping my torso carefully, making sure the collar was well absorbed over my ever scarring neck mark. I had managed a clean shave, a scrub of the teeth, combed hair, and was looking my best, all my finest clothes picked out except for the top, simply for comfort. I kept one thing in constant replay as I started to leave all the 'demons' at home, forcing it into my will as it should have been so long ago.

Live.

Everything was still and static as I went to the Ford truck and drove off to Torvic's property, slanted right from the direction of my driveway. All things I took in with an eerie calm, not of anxiety or fear or apprehension. I was not brave in the sense, either, but just voided, no emotion to percolate within me as I found my way to the massive house of the elderly chap, parking next a flock of cars resting on a slightly dulled grass. I couldn't shake the thought that something drastic would happen. Not a bad or good premonition, just a concept, a brainstorm.

I was out of the truck and standing in the cool embrace of the Autumn's breezy kiss. I, though it was distant, made out the collection of voices both human and Chimera aggregated in together as one massive crowd. The volume was intense enough for me to realize that the populace of Northmoorse was larger, larger than I'd expected. I touched the resilient, icy frame of my truck. I related to it. Alone. Cold. Out of place. I couldn't do this. I didn't belong here. These were happy, joyful civilians who'd bonded together with courage and unity. I was a desolated, weak spirited man with the devil to his back and agony to spare.

I may have run were it not for her.

"Lucas!" she called, my eyes springing around to see Journey jogging towards me, a content smile gripped on her muzzle. A luxurious path of warm, newfound wilpowerl erupted within me.

She was wearing a white t-shirt with a denim jacket and shorts, Chimera appropriate sandals under her paw-feet, and her hair was clipped with a smiling jack-o-lantern. She was no longer hesitant or nervous around me (though I don't know about anyone else) and stepped up to me casually as though I were a cousin or some such other thing. Indeed, our friendship had flourished to a comfortable level, and I found myself acting like. . . well, *myself* when Journey was with around.

"Hiya' Journey," I returned, limping a bit as I walked to meet her. She appraised me with a glance to the ligament, offering a notion of concern.

"How's the leg?" she asked, a question I was no longer uncomfortable with in her presence.

I nodded satisfactorily. "Really good. No flare ups for a few days. I just hope it'll stay like that while I'm," I paused to gulp, "While I'm here,"

The vixen picked up on my sense to this event with ease. She was acting as a kind of mentor in all this, having been to a few meets in her time at Northmoorse. While she herself had also been a bit nervous the first few occasions, the vulpine had warmed up to the concept of these get-together's and understood their function.

"You think you're ready?" she inquired soothingly.

I felt my breathing start to become haggard, and my throat dried slightly, but after all I'd experienced and all the generosity presented to me, I nodded slowly.

"Yep. I gotta' move on," I said, more to myself than anything else.

I had to move on. I had to live.

Journey gripped my shoulder once with her black furred paw and nudged me on, as we walked together to a literal field of people talking about in the far horizon.

It's really hard to describe this magnitude of both activity and people. Dozens upon dozens of neighbors of every breed and every type were collected together in patches of colors and fur patterns. There were sets of enormous picnic tables lined together, all plastered with plastic coatings and sheets of red and white while some contained copious levels of foods with various dishes to appeal to all appetites. Children and little infant Chimera (known for a variety of names such as cubs, kits, or pups) were running about and chasing each other frantically, playing in a fray of giggles and laughs. Separate new-breeds were conversing with their families, and other mixes were talking with humans, catching up on whatever their daily lives had given them.

I coughed at the sights my eyes signaled to my brain. The one thing keeping me steady was Journey at my side, otherwise my right shin would have gone numb and I've have fled back for the truck. From where we were standing, I'd decided to ease my way into the groups, if at all, to stand at the edges. Even with my needles of confidence I couldn't bear the idea of being surrounded by people with no way to get out.

It wasn't long until Sade was able to find me when I had decided to sit at one of the picnic tables, some kind of keen lupine sense able to pick up my scent through all the jumbles of smells lingering in the air. At the same time, I didn't want to hold Journey back by my own emotional limitations, so I'd said I'd catch up with her later.

The wolf morph was accompanied by his mate and son, Kelder, whom was squirming incessantly to escape his mother's grip. She let him go with a whisper to his ear, while I saw nothing but a flash of fur and tail as the little pup ran full speed after being given the O.K.

"Mr. Roswell, it's great to see you!" said Sade, giving me one of his wolfish hugs. His wife did the same. They'd been very helpful as I'd put things together between Journey and I.

"Likewise," I replied gamely, returning their quick embraces. I looked at Sylira, whom had turned her head briefly to check on Kelder.

"How's the sprout doing?" I asked, referring to their delightful pup.

Sade smiled, taking his mate in one arm, while Sylira nodded in contemplation.

"Oh, he's going through that phase, wanting to play with everything that moves," she said in a sense of motherly admonishment and parental pride. I gave a chuckle. Children were notorious for their almost unlimited source of energy.

"Right proud of that boy, I am," popped in Sade. "Little one's got the eyes of his mother and the teeth of his father,"

They were positively glowing with affection for their child. I respected it. They were in their prime with a long future to look forward to. I just hoped they didn't have to face the same tragedies and terrors I did.

I was thrown a few hellos and greetings with those I'd helped with Torvic. I returned in friendly gesture, but was worrisome that they would spread word that "Roswell was here." The thought of an entire sea of eyes in my direction caused me to shiver.

"So Lucas," the wolf outed heartily, plopping next to me on the table bench, "Sylira's told me you and Journey have gotten close," he said, poking his wife. Sylira regarded him with a wry grin.

I blinked, musing over our definition of 'close.' From Sade's point of view it sounded as though we were captured in a blind web of romance. From mine, we were friends, friends that talked about things we hadn't been able to do with anyone else. I hoped and feared for both answers.

"We're on good terms now," I said shortly, not certain if there was more to add. I didn't see it, but Sade had held back a hearty laugh. I was too busy looking around at both the lake and the vast amount of activity buzzing around me. I managed to view Journey talking to a woman with rosy orange and a baby blue blouse and skirt.

"You'd think that, but Sylira's been chatting with Journey quite often now, eh honey?" he said with a side query to his wife. She warned him with a tiny growl as if not to spoil some big secret.

I was barely able to catch on to these tiny mannerisms. What ran through my mind was merely the vast size of all the Northmoorse people. Each and every last one of them was something of large proportion from friendly relations to family members . But not one of them had lost it all. I sensed an age old familiarity of confusion and uncertainty as to how I'd react, or eventually react, to everyone. The concept of having a constant relation with familiars within a daily routine had become so foreign to me. What was it I could possibly compare with anyone?

Only one thing came to mind. Journey.

Sade had noticed my momentary distraction and prodded me in the arm, gesturing for me to look to the left. My eyes grew wide as he pointed out one of the most bizarre appearing individuals I'd laid sight on.

"Heh, that fellow there is Mejimim," the wolf morph explained, pointing out a vibrantly colored reptilian. "So many people have trouble pronouncing his name, we like to call him 'Jim.'"

My mouth made a kind of screwdriver shape as it curled in the "tribal" appearance this creature was coated with. One working eye, a body painted with orange and white tattoos, neckwear that appeared in bone carvings, and a long, gnarled piped sticking out his jaw with wisps of greenish smoke floating into the air made up its initial visage. I had no words.

Sylira eventually took off to mingle with a few of her friends. I wondered why Sade hadn't followed, but soon realized by watching him slightly through the corner of my eye. His body language, his tiny ear gestures, perhaps even an aroma in the air. He was keeping people from getting too close, from bottling me up and surrounding me. He still knew my discomfort was ever present, and stayed near as a friend to allow others in realization I wasn't prepared for all this at once. I was trying hard to be normal, for him, for the Valley, for Journey, but it wasn't working. I thanked him mentally for his never ending generosity.

A moment later, and I'd stood. I sniffed the clean Fall air once and looked to the lake. I needed a moment to clear my head. I had to figure some new strategy at engaging myself in all this natural formation of conversation. Whilst it came so easy and flawlessly for all the others, it was an ongoing war between my body and my mind. Nothing operated right. I was far too quick to assume that two months in Northmoorse and I'd be ready for such a commute, but I didn't want to leave, that would be worse.

I swivelled halfway to Sade. He regarded me with raised brows and a brightened gaze.

"I'm going to head for a walk, buddy," I stated casually, using the most calm and complacent face I could manage. In my expression, he knew, he understood. I had to be alone for a while, sort things out, understand and realize what was happening in the stagnation of an aging, crippling mold.

He grinned his thin black-lipped smile and stood also, patting me on the shoulder with a quick "all right." Sade was fast to adapt to whatever needed be. I sometimes had a hard time believing that he was that nice of a guy, especially a Chimera to a human.

By the lakeside, I slowly made my limping steps with the stiff leg, hands in pocket, noting the swirl of the breeze and the afternoon sun. Miniature tendrils of failure snaked around my back and thought process as I felt ashamed that I'd let myself down coming here, and worse, Sade, his family, his friends, and Journey. All of them. The community. I was tired of being so patient with myself and wanted to break free, to live, to be the person they all wanted and not let the dark years cloud my feelings.

With those thoughts in mind, it's rather funny how the past can repeat itself. I didn't hear her footsteps. I didn't hear the rustling leaves and crunching of grass. I didn't realize the quickness in her pace to get to me.

"You're not the crowd kind of person, are you?"

An angel's harp that was Journey's voice. The one thing I'd prevented myself from doing, the one thing I'd changed, was my abruptness to one behind me. I simply turned, my face static, almost solemn.

I wanted to say something, but nothing came.

"You didn't have to show up if it's hard for you," said the vixen, strutting up to my side while I regarded her with a defeated smile. Since the time we were able to talk more openly, I found the vulpine morph had a great treasure of wisdom herself.

"No," I countered, "I needed to. I have to get off feeling sorry for myself and embrace all the kindness everyone's shown me,"

I didn't stop walking. Not to be offensive, just to keep the wheels of my conscious turning. The vixen went with me.

"I felt like that too when I came here. Lucas, you can't expect yourself to change in the blink of an eye,"

I know my friend was trying to comfort me, but the tiding of so many other things were in place to debunk them. My demons were always gaining the upper hand, which pulled me through feelings of great sorrow and vast happiness.

"I've given myself far too much time for self pity. Years," I mused solemnly, trying to find the answer that would break the bad things away and just let me be.

"But nothing works," I spoke out truthfully. "Guilt for what I've done eats at me. I try to forget it and be normal, yet I find no solace or answers,"

Journey sighed. Her reaction was one that understood I'd needed time, just like she did, but I wasn't too certain time was going to be the healing elixir. Six years of hurt and four years of confusion had left me with no stitched wounds and no ways to relieve the pain. Ugh. Why was this all coming back to me? Why was it my mannerisms were like those searching for pity?

"You don't need to rush. Everyone in the Valley can understand hardship. You think Torvic's a stranger to misery? No. They were all patient with me as the shy person I was, and, still am. They won't ignore you the same way," Journey assured, in such a way like a mother singing its child a lullabies.

From a distance, small gatherings of others had paused to glance in our direction. I wasn't aware that she and I were becoming the object of interest as the crowds let eyes drift to our walk. I wasn't aware that Sylira and Sade kissed one another as they saw us in motion, reminded of their early love, as two broken souls fell together to finally be rid of all the wickedness from so long ago. Sade had proclaimed I'd be a guest of interest, but nothing I'd have to worry about. I had no idea it was meant this way. I was oblivious to their points, their murrs of praise, their muttered cheers. I was oblivious, as I was to many things.

I only had to engulf her company to be assured of things. We walked for a while in silence, I without anything to say, to conclude, to announce. What was there? My realization for a shift in my life was beginning to find roots, a confusing riot of what was the right and wrong way taking place.

Journey paused to look at the lake, her curves and features caught in the sunlight. Her tail swished with enthusiasm, and she knelt down to pick up a small rock in her sensual paws.

"It's hard for you now, but think of it like this," she said, gesturing for me to look. I watched, interested in what she was referring to.

"See how this lake is calm and still? Undisturbed? That's how you were when things weren't bad,"

She threw the rock into the air with a sharp swing of her arm, and the granite spiraled upward until colliding with the water, creating a splash and generating the known ripple effect.

I watched on, quite intrigued.

"The ripples are all the bad things. The suffering and the memories, the ones you've mentioned but can't bring up," she turned, looking at me directly with her distinguished azure eyes, pupils expanding to absorb me as though I were light itself.

Yes. The things I wasn't able to speak of. What of it my beloved Journey? I thought.

"But the ripples will pass. Your torment will end and your life will return to its calm stillness, just like the lake does. Chaos leaves. Pain passes. You heal,"

She was right. She was certain. No, nay to those, they were a promise to me. It was a comforting, warming thing that blessed my heart and let the agony subside. I would heal, she was saying, I would be able to get past all that I'd done and not done and finally relax, be happy again. Her own trials she had gone through, her trepidations finally put to rest, her uncertainty about the future without worry, only engaged waiting. Journey was conveying that I wasn't going to be miserable forever. She was conveying she'd help me get through it.

Her words were going to be put to the test.

I think I laughed, without finding something to say, as no comment would do her all too correct metaphor justice. All I could manage was to repeat her action. I looked at her with a bright smile and went to the lake's edge, like some form of ritual was taking place. I knelt down to pick up a rock and imagined it was all the guilt and all the nightmares placed into one catalyst. I took great effort into focusing on Journey's voice, her melodic tone, her assuring manner. She was helping me. It was time to let go.

Number 72-47-44.

Oh, how I would have loved to let go. To forget. To change. But before I was able to launch the rock into the air, assail my demons with a stone towards their invisible faces, I was stopped. Journey, behind me, had apparently taken a few steps backwards, rough, loud ones as though she'd had a sudden fright. She gasped in a way that was relative to being stabbed, a pained breath, a betrayed breath.

Startled, I turned myself to face her. Her visage worried me, sent my heart into an uproar of beats. How can I describe it but only as a pure, unrestrained horror, as though some psychopath had just appeared, and a lamenting, powerful hurt took hold. I stood, thinking she might be looking at something around or behind me. I glanced about frantically, but there was no one there, only me.

She was looking at me.

Tears spilled through her eyes and she pointed at me, the other paw over her muzzle. The accusing weariness. The accusing hand.

"Journey?" I queried with full awareness, concerned for her, but baffled all the same.

"Y-you!!" she yelled, an agonized, choked yell that was needled by her near sobs. I stepped forward to try and give her a comforting hand, but she recoiled, recoiled in a way that designated I was some kind of monster.

I tried to say her name again, but she cut me off.

"You! How could you. . . y-you're. . .y-you're a Bar Code!!"

What's the saddest thing you've ever heard in your life? Something that brought you such untold anguish you thought your heart was torn out and you could collapse right where you were and die? What mourning has brought you such unbelievable agony you thought you'd never be able to move again? Can you feel that? If you can, then that's the only way to describe my reaction to her distress, her voice, the faltering of her beautiful features, the betrayal she watched me with. I'd felt many things in my life. But none of them were as bad as this. None.

My eyes widened, I immediately snapped my hand to the back of my neck, and soon became aware of what she was thinking. Pleadingly, begging with my head, I shook it furiously, trying to step closer as she shrieked and cried even further, drawing back once more.

"Journey! No, wait! I'm not. . . no, I'm not!"

Not a Bar Code, I thought, but did not say. Cruelly, the maggots in my head whispered with their insidious laughter, taking every graceful pleasure they had in stating it. Number 72-47-44.

She ran. Bolted. She held my face one more time as though not believing I was real, and threw herself in the opposite direction. Dear God, how much it hurt, how much my chest felt voided as hot, salted tears blanketed my sight.

"Journey! Journey, no!!" I yelled, to her slowly disappearing form, springing up the hill and past the crowds of people, whom had mostly gone silent, a great deal of them noting Journey's panic, and then turning to me.

"Please, no. . ." I mumbled weakly, daftly, throat sour with a bitter swelling inside it. I collapsed to my knees. Drops of my weeping became rivers over my stinging cheeks.

"Please, Journey, don't leave me alone. . ."

I felt sick, as though I wanted to vomit all this away, all this bad blood and 'try again.' I began to tremble furiously, staring at the mulch ground as though it would give me an answer, a solution, some sign for me to take action. But there was nothing. She was gone. Certainly, if not absolutely, out of my life.

It was the Bar Code that gave her this notion. It was the tag on my neck I tried so hard to keep a secret, to fight for safety, this being the reason why. In short, Bar Codes were people abducted from their home under the belief that they were supposed 'national threats' during the crisis of Chimera rights, and were placed in 'prison housing,' which was the Government's way of tapering over its real meaning, concentration camp.

I'd heard some people had given in to the vile teachings spit at them during their imprisonment. Those who had changed became outrageously violent against Chimera, performing a sequence of raids and murders on particular dates and times, all of which bore their numbers proudly. But not myself. I bore it with misery. With regret. I had never killed a Chimera or done anything to harm a new-breed, but I remember what it was like in those concentration camps, and I remember feeling so lost and alone.

Now I was experiencing the same emotions. My face was buried underneath my hands, as I wept furiously, uncontrollably. I could feel the heat of so many eyes, as those who were watching managed to witness this event as a whole.

"Journey," I moaned out in broken syllables, hoping that by saying her name she'd come back, she'd come back and I could say I was sorry. It was clear to me that Codes, another name for the brainwashed, had done something either to her or her life, friends, family, a lover, maybe. All of it brought down by them. Us. My kind.

I had to get away. The peripheral storm had been sensed and now it was upon me. I stood, practically dead in the eyes, and started to walk to my truck. I didn't know how many were watching. A few people, a crowd, the entire congregation? There was nothing but the view in front of me, all other things vanished and became darkness. I'm sure someone wanted to know what happened. I'm sure Sade had seen me and was wondering what to do. For all intents and purposes, I'd hope he stayed away, stayed away from what I was and what I was attached to.

I didn't really see myself do anything of importance. Journey's Mitsubishi was gone, that I noticed. I got into the truck, my hands went numbly to the wheel, I started the ignition, and drove home. And I couldn't help but think to myself, was this really home? Was I in the right place? Did I belong, or had I made a huge mistake, and should return to Junction, where everything began and ended?

Inside the house, the silence of the world crushed me. I did not move. I did not eat. Time passed to night, and the ache in my heart had exploded to every inch of me, a constricting force that chained me down, disallowed me from moving. I couldn't comprehend what had happened, and at the same time, I found that it would have only been a matter of time. I was living a dream. A lie.

I barely slept. The hours were spent with nightmares and insomnia. All I could think of was one thing.

She has my heart, therefore I am dead without her.

= - = - = - = - =

The following day I did absolutely nothing. Only a ferocious hunger in my stomach for avoiding lunch and dinner yesterday got me up. It was a cloudy Monday, a warning that rain would soon be on the way, an icy rain that only the Autumn could bring.

Morning left me with little options. Normally, when pain finds itself on any living organism, its natural reaction is to find a way to escape the sensation. All of its thought process becomes focused on getting away from the undesired burning or cutting that befalls it. For emotional distress, it's a similar scenario. Previously, my only way to combat the pain was to sketch and create, use vine charcoal to make real the visions in my head. But this time, it wasn't going to work. I felt like that would be like trying to stop a waterfall with a plastic cup.

I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to move. I just wanted Journey back. I just wanted her to smile again. I could no longer deny what I'd felt for her, from the diner to the mailbox to her home and so on.

I loved her.

I shuddered heavily when those words escaped me. I whispered them out loud so I could hear them, keep them.

"I love her,"

A friendly love or a kind of sibling love? Nay. Pure, entangling, searing love. To deny myself the truth would inflict hurt on me further. And, perhaps, I could find an answer. Should I go after her? Try to bring her solace through my own will? No. She wanted to be far from me, and going to her like this would do neither of us any good. But I was so afraid of remaining still. If I took no action, would that end our friendship? Did we even still have a friendship? I would have given anything to know what was happing in her mind right now. . . anything.

Off and on, the phone would ring. I may have had caller ID, but instinct told me it was Sade, or maybe some other such concerned person. A few messages rolled in, one in particular being Sylira, asking me to pick up, over and over with the same question of what went on the other day. I didn't answer them. From everything I understood, all knew me for what I wasn't. The bar code on my neck was my past, my present, the all important me that had yet to show himself. And now that I was exposed, laid bare to the most precious thing in my life, I couldn't fathom losing everything else. If Journey was gone, who else would follow?

The pattern was the same. I thought on and on about the vixen. I replayed the face that had looked at me, the mourning in her cerulean eyes, the contours of her features that had faltered, the utter disappointment she gazed at me with. That was what destroyed me the most. The desolation I had caused her. In a way, it was like she had found the murderer to some great mystery that was agonizing her over the years, and I was the focal point.

I felt like taking anger to the bar code itself. I felt like blaming the sign for everything, every cause and every flaw in my life. Were it not for the damned thing, she and I would still be friends and I wouldn't have hurt her so terribly. It was a burn into my skin for all time, an irremovable hybrid tattoo that meshed with my flesh coloration so it was as much a part of me as my very fingers. I was the bar code, and the bar code was me. I had wanted to scream.

My mind then flickered something.

Without the bar code, you'd never have come to the Valley. Without the bar code, you'd never have met Journey.

I furrowed my brow in anger. If I never had that bar code, if the tag had never existed, Journey wouldn't have to see me, wouldn't relive the darkness of the past, wouldn't be in her angered, sorrowful state right now. It seemed that where ever I crept, I brought the black days with me on those who didn't deserve it.

I flipped on the TV for the remainder of the day. The world sped on like clockwork with the in and out workings of life from every city and every state. Random comedy fluff was harmless, commercials intoned their products, edited movies were being broadcasted as special premieres.

I didn't know what I was going to do. I eventually slept on a channel with classic retro shows from far back, at least the fifties or so. I still took nightmares. I still had the scene of a hot, metal pike of steel suddenly rushing into my neck, a fiery gnash that bit me deep and marked me forever.

The night passed into the next day with a subtle nuance. It was raining now, just a fragile, light shower that was predicted to last for the rest of the day. For myself, when I awoke, it was like the same story at the camps, the faceless sky, the unforgiving rain, the day when a hanging was to take place. Those were the days when I wondered what had happened to the world, to the nation, to the people.

I was a bit more mobile this time. Out of disinterest, I unplugged my phones and let things roll on in silence. The feelings weren't so raw, now, but they were still freshly buried, the grave that was now planted into the fields of my soul.

I pondered to myself. What now? What was the next step to my future? Would Journey tell the others about the bar code? Would I be removed from this society as an unwanted? Who could possibly trust me, knowing what these numbers tied in to?

Number 72-47-44.

For a good long while, I thought about returning to Junction. There were decisions in the air that had to be made. I prospected to simply gather my things, find an apartment in the city, and go back where I belonged. Or, I would tell someone about who I was, what I was, and for that reason, I wouldn't stay in Northmoorse. It made sense. The best solution. Continue on to bear the grief alone, so as to save the others from having to hoist it.

A little whisper from my room called out, icy and ghostly against the stillness of my house, the sketched corpse of me with the word carved to his forehead.

Coward.

I didn't care. The voice was right. I didn't try to wrestle with the doubts and arguments in my head anymore. I was subdued to my fate, and that was that. I *was* a coward, I had run away, thinking to escape capture, thinking to escape the past, and now to escape this, to free them and shackle me. All of them flashed before my eyes in a tidal wave of thought. All the smiles, the laughter, the voices, the sea of comfort the people shared at the Autumn get together.

It was time to say goodbye.

I was practically destined to accept that when things flooded by, back to the cold chill of night. I thought back to Mrs. Danson's words: 'Keep the good memories.' Yes. I saw Journey in all her beauty in one swoop. All her smiles, her gestures, her touches, the sun capturing the rust of her amber fur, her spiced musk and sweet perfume. I would take that with me and try to live my days out in what peace I could find.

A fool will be wrong more than twice.

The door knocked. About half after eight there was a sudden turbulent racking at the frame of my door. I ignored it. I couldn't face anyone now, not after all this. They would think I'd overreacted, but they hadn't seen the mark yet. They didn't know the Bar Code.

It knocked again, this time more quickly, urgently. I looked to it from my couch. I thought about calling out to 'go away,' but I held my tongue, without certainty as to why.

Adrenalin practically crackled through me when I heard it.

"Lucas!"

Not it. Her. Journey.

I didn't hesitate, didn't let myself get caught up in a dry throat scenario or wallowing in wonder. I didn't freeze nor panic nor shake. I just bolted to the door, struggling to get the locks out of the way, then swung open the threshold, gazing out, half expecting to see nothing.

There she was, dampened by the cold, chilling rain, standing in the glow of my porch light. Her expression told me one of regret. Her arms were hugging her chest in either an attempt to stay warm or hold something in. It was all I could do to keep from crying.

She garbled out words, unable to hold her stare.

"Oh. . .God. . .L-Lucas. . . sorry, I'm s-so sorry. . ."

What could I do to consolidate her? I was afraid to touch her, as if I'd break her, cause her more pain. So many feelings boiled within me. Joy that she was here, sadness that she was near to sobs. My whole life had practically revolved around her. Wait, not practically, it *did* revolve. Her life was my own, the want to protect and love it, nurture it, keep it in high spirits.

I looked out to see the sky filled with deluging cold. Journey hadn't driven here, she'd walked, maybe ran. Out of the cold was my first concern.

"Journey," I gasped out. I struggled. I wasn't certain what or how to think now. "Come out of this rain, lets get you warm," I offered, pulling open the door. She didn't run back or flinch, just swiftly entered, a dark blue shirt she was wearing soaked at the hem of her shoulders, same for her denim shorts.

I led her to the living room, without any inclination as what I was doing or how I would handle this. It was like a dream, but bad or good I couldn't tell. What was she here to say? Something of anger, of hate?

I gestured for her to sit anywhere, turning down the volume to the TV where it was muted. She sat, with troubled, shallow breaths, tiny moans coming from her muzzle as she was either crying or about to. It didn't bother me. I wanted to know what had happened. I knew where my priorities were.

"I'm sorry," she repeated with a gasp, her eyes to the floor, her tail limp in apology. I shook my head, furious with care that she'd come to apologize on agony *I* had created.

"No, no," I said strongly. Her ears flicked up, but her long features were still pointed down. "Don't you dare apologize. Don't you dare say I'm sorry for something I did to you. Don't you dare regret being sad and angry because. . . because of the Bar Codes. . ."

I did it in a way of gentle strength, of a scorn that admonished her feeling bad, of a praised concern that she'd come to make amends, to which I thought I would do. She was stronger, I could see, stronger than I'd ever become because she had the courage to arrive and take things as she saw them, as I would have fled and ran, as the coward will always do.

"But Journey," I started, grasping for the correct words, "I want you to know. I would never, *never*, hurt you or anyone else. I know what the Codes were supposed to do. I know they were violent and hateful toward Chimera. But that's not who I am. I could never. . ." I trailed off. I wasn't entirely certain how to put these things. I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about my past, even now, so openly. No, not at the moment, I couldn't. This was about Journey, not me.

A faint nod from the vixen.

"I know, Lucas. . . when I ran. . . when I was home. . . I thought I would be angry with you forever. But then I remembered how generous you were. I remembered how you were never angry or hostile with anyone, just a little scared,"

I blinked. She was right. I had been scared. Frightened of the future and what it could bring. I gently sat down next to her on the couch, though not so closely, giving her space, giving her time.

"It was just all those memories from Anchor. . . that was the county I lived in. So many raids had happened, and they were all Bar Codes. When. . . when I saw it on your neck, I didn't know what to think, so I ran," she told softly, while I listened without any other care in the world, only her words. She was starting to bring things back from California.

A leather-padded paw went to my leg, clenching it. Journey was trembling, her beauty assailed, her thoughts in disarray, her emotions confused and out of place. I quickly put my hand over hers, as she suddenly slumped to the side, to my arm, a mist of tears forming through her blue eyes. Slowly, I put my arm around her shoulder, the first time I'd ever been able to embrace her this way. She moaned a timid cry, and let her sadness pour out, I doing nothing but rubbing her frame in condolence.

I felt our warmth bring us together. I felt a sudden closeness in the air, like our hearts were mingling in a tangled dance, souls lost in a grim forest and searching for the way out.

"You're not alone, Journey," I said, smoothly and calmly. "You can tell me anything. Don't let the sadness get a hold of you. You can find a way out. I'm here,"

I could tell she wanted to let it go. There was some twisting root inside her that she longed to be free of and cut the vines of what had happened in California. I pleaded in silence for her to speak, to be rid of it, to do what I could not and no longer suffer with her memories. I couldn't bear the idea of her hefting those nightmares any longer. I wanted her to be happy. It meant the world to me.

She brought her head up. She looked into the distance of the living room, past the TV and to the wall. She was remembering something about her days that was an awful, ruined thing. She was remembering the pain.

I would take her past and carry it as my own, bring her away from those emotional burdens, if it was cosmically possible. I didn't want to see any part of her in harm any more, not her blonde earthy hair, not her sparkling blue eyes, not the russet of her rosy orange fur. Not a trace.

"It was November," she said in all but a whisper. I held her tight, and she returned the embrace by closing the distance between us as little as that was. "It was November when all the raids had started,"

Raids. Collective intelligence by Codes to start a wave of violence for a circumvented manner of time.

"I had been living on my own for a while, and I was close to some friends. The week before everything started to happen, there were a lot of reported abductions of respected Chimera. I would eventually find out one of them was my father," she said weakly.

I winced. My heart bled. For Journey to recount something like that over all the turmoil she'd been through. . . I was dwarfed in comparison for her will to move on.

"Things happened slowly. At first, several of the abducted morphs had been found. . ." she paused, "murdered, all with a different sign for an event that was going to happen. Numbers were sometimes marked on the victims. Threats were posted. All the Bar Codes were trying to foreshadow what was going to happen,"

Indeed. I knew the pattern of the Codes and how they enticed their raids and terrorist activity. They would start with signs for the coming days or weeks, taking people from their homes and perform some form of grueling execution. I felt Journey's fingers start to twine with my own, a flood of heat being brought up by the sensation.

The vixen was better able to compose herself, recite the actions with a bit more ease. I coaxed her on with another friendly rub on the arm.

"Then the week turned into massive violence. November 11th. . . I'm sure you remember it. . ." she said with a frail glance to me. I returned it with an affirming look, but, it wasn't true. My time in the camps had prevented that sort of knowledge.

She continued. "Buildings and small family owned businesses were being set on fire. People. . . people were being hanged. . . shot. Churches where Chimera would attend services were shot at and eventually attacked by arsonists. I remember thinking of my dad one night. I called him and tried to tell him to get away, since he owned a well known restaurant, but he wouldn't listen,"

A tear fell down one of her cheeks. "He kept saying he wasn't afraid and wouldn't let the Bar Codes bully him out of Anchor. He. . . h-he was shot the next. . . the n-next m-morning. . . he'd been k-killed by someone f-faking. . . faking they n-needed help. . ."

Her sorrow let loose in a wave of sobs and tears. She buried her face to my chest and let the salted waters freely effuse from her eyes, while I then put my hand to her locks of hair, stroking them, resting my cheek on her head. All in once she was reliving the moment, no doubt getting the call, receiving the news, having to fight with her mind as she went to the place of her sire's death, a positive identification needed. I knew her pain, because I knew what it was like to lose family. An entire, family, actually.

"I had," she said, in between sobs, "I had to get away to protect myself. M-my aunt had taken me in and given me her car, and f-found a place for me to live. She n-new people in Alprite. . . and said it would be okay when she bought my home. . ."

So escape was her path as well. Nothing wrong with that. I hugged her once more, moving my digits in her paw a little to simply provide a distracting feeling. I wouldn't be able to make it better for her all at once, but I imagined the relief she was getting by at least being able to spare these words.

"Shhh. You're all right. You're okay," I toned quietly, able to hear the raindrops outside patter themselves upon the glass. The only sound besides Vinton that could calm me down. For Journey, though I wasn't aware, it was the sound of my heartbeat where she rested her pretty face that provided rest.

"I thought that by blaming you I would feel better. . ." said Journey, referring to seeing the bar code on my neck. "But I just felt miserable and horrible for doing that. . .You were so sweet, so kind and. . . and I. . ."

One more tight squeeze with my arms.

"Shh. No more of that," I implied softly. "You have every right and every reason to be angry, to be upset. I don't have this mark on me because I want to. But those who were brainwashed took it with pride, pride for the death they caused and the suffering they created,"

At my words, Journey had calmed down, suddenly. She pulled herself from my chest and wiped her tears from her dampened cheeks, looking at me with befuddlement.

"What do you mean by 'brainwashed'?" she toned, earnestly confused. I looked back with sudden worry, aware of what I'd just said.

Her question hit me like a falling tower. She hadn't any idea that Bar Codes were everyday citizens who actually had supportive feelings toward new-breeds. Yes, the Government had sugared the name of Code with the "International Protection Movement," there way of justifying a complete turnaround of how others felt for the Chimera cause, as if they were afraid a revolt would send the US into anarchy. Even after most of the prisoners and camp victims were returned to their normal lives, the Government had kept a tight lid on things through a variety of ways, thus the spread of the events was hindered severely. Either that, or most of the prisoners had been converted or killed.

"Journey," I responded with a more honest approach about my ignorance to many things. "I actually don't know what happened in California. I was in a concentration camp for six years when all that was going on. When I say brainwashed, I mean a segment of the National Guard abducted people from their homes that openly supported Chimera to be sent into prisons so we could be taught how to hate new-breeds. The Government was trying to get control over something by using terrorism and torture," I said, rather angrily to the deeds inflicted upon so many in my world.

"They keep things in the dark so nobody can link together the victims and the Bar Codes themselves. Or something. They've broken apart the facts so much that nobody can make sense of it anymore. Even I don't know what really happened. Yet still, regardless of what had been forced into their minds, that doesn't excuse the Codes for what they've done,"

Beacons of hope and relief finally entered the cracks of my mind. The demons of old were screaming in retaliation as I was able to speak, if only for a moment, about what had gone on in my early life. It felt good, but also terrifying. I had just opened a 'can of worms' that would obviously need explanation and answers.

She regarded me for a moment. To hear me say something like that probably shocked her more than I could realize. She was almost spellbound, in disbelief. A rapturous kind of closure to a question she'd been asking herself for so long may have finally found its end. The why to all the raids and attacks on Chimera.

I decided to add one last thing.

"That doesn't excuse them for hurting you,"

Her eyes widened. She took her free paw and touched my face, and I held my breath as the velvety heat washed over my skin.

"Lucas. . . why haven't you told anyone this?"

I shook my head. I exposed my weakness to her, my reluctance to dig up the past, my fear of all the shadows that could be let out. I trembled, shivered, feared the doom and dread of the old and the faces of corpses staring back at me in those terrible times.

I opened my mouth, something nearly catching my breath.

"Please, Journey, I can't," I numbly outed, taking my eyes to the floor. My features tugged down. My face grew pale. "Please don't make me talk about it. . ." I begged, her paw to my flesh the only bit of warmth I had in all those icy thoughts. She then did something that surprised me, perhaps even both of us.

She leaned forward, letting the fur of her muzzle brush my face, her breath rasping through to my ear. Her thin lips graced my skin, kissing it, while her hot tongue flickered out and gave a little lick to the cheek, the prospect lingering for a moment before she drew back. I was frozen.

"Journey. . ." I whispered out.

She smiled in a kind of solemn, recovered way. I didn't want the moment to end.

"All right. Only when you're ready. Only then, Lucas," was her only response, her assurance that she was still there, my friend, my supporter. The mist of agony was still present in her azure iris', but not much.

We didn't say a lot more for a while. Prayers of silent wishes were being answered while a compromise of emotions were taking place. We only sat, together, I musing over everything in such a defining regard I was having trouble sorting through my feelings. It was chaotic. I needed a moment of stability.

Journey was the one to suddenly speak after a good half-hour went by and the rain continued to sweep through.

"Lucas," she said warmly, stealing my attention with ease. "I. . . could. . . I, don't. . . I don't want to go home tonight. . ." she blurted out, struggling. I tilted my head, curious as to what she meant.

"Can I stay here with you?" she asked in a rushed kind of way.

I nearly gaped. Many a wondrous things were happening now. Journey was asking to stay with me, for either support or other emotional reasons. What could I do? Accept. Live. Let things go naturally as it should have always been.

She imagined my steady silence was a form of rejection, but I quickly reprimanded the mute in my throat.

"Of course," I answered dryly, in disbelief as what was happening, what had been done. She tilted her head, a warm look of thankfulness stretched over her features, and hugged me, which, I could not help but return.

"Thank you, Lucas, thank you so much. You won't believe how much you've helped me," she said, holding her embrace for a bit until pulling back, enticed, refreshed. I was breathing slowly, unable to cope with what was here, what was real. It was fantastic, almost unbearably good.

"I need to freshen up. Mind if I use your bathroom?"

It was a tad rhetorical, but happily, I nodded, pointing her to my room.

"Just in there, to the right," I said, pondering what it would be life if this had become a daily routine, if she and I had lived in the same home.

While she was in the bathroom, I had closed my eyelids and was thinking wildly and peacefully at the same time. It hadn't dawned on me that I'd left one major detail unnoticed, something that wasn't yet said by me but depicted in the canvas of black and white: the drawings. I made a quick gasp, looking to my room's direction, hearing the sink in my bathroom switch off, a quilt of apprehension yanking about my insides. How would she react to something like that?

When Journey didn't return to the living room, I was certain in my gut she'd seen the vine charcoal artwork pinned to the wall. Steadily rising, a bead of sweat formed on my brow, a concerning flurry of things I did so feel as I wasn't sure she knew what they'd mean. Sure enough, entering my room, there was the vixen, the vulpine morph looking steadily at the one I had done of her some weeks ago, her eyes roving over it, to the tip of her nose to the words inscribed next to her name.

She has my heart, therefore I am dead without her.

I accidentally startled her when she heard my footsteps, even as I'd "stealthily" came in. I was naive to think her hearing wasn't acute as a fox.

The morph turned to me, with admiration painted on her long, miraculous face. I was nearly wobbling as she looked at me, both with the nervous awareness an artist can get when their work is studied, and flakes of fear as how she would find all this. Her smile told the story.

"Did you do this?" she said with a graceful point to her image. I held a quiet sigh and nodded. She hadn't seen the other one yet.

"Yeah. Few weeks ago when I was helping you with your car," I chuckled out nervously, rubbing my ear. She still retained her smile, looking back to the picture, tracing a finger lightly over the statement I'd put near her name.

Maybe she decided not to say anything. I imagined there were a great deal of thoughts bubbling through her right now, and as the many times before, I wished I knew what they were. She had the opportunity to comment, to something forward, to ask me what it meant and what it was about. Did I have for the strength for that? No. Not now. But the understandings of a Chimera to emotion, from scent pattern to body temperature to heartbeat, are very sensitive, and my signals must have let her know it would have caused a fair bit of stress in my direction.

Her gaze shifted. She looked to my facade of ultimate shame, the sketching where I had announced my weakness and my guilt. It tugged down her features. She seemed worried.

"It was just a memory. I was feeling bad," I blurted out quickly, trying to build some defense for the near corpse-like form staring out to Journey. I doubt she believed me, but the strain in my voice was not something one could ignore.

"I like them both,"

She didn't continue in conversing about them, to my hidden relief. There would be a time and place for a lot of things, but not now, not when Journey's emotions were now so open and tender, exposed.

She then decided to sleep in the living room for the night. I had no objections, and allowed her to use the bathroom any time she needed, or grab some food or drink. I scuffled around the house for some spare pillows and a blanket, bidding her good dreams as the hours settled into a late darkness. The rain was still tapping away at my home, but was slowly deceasing as night drew in further. We both wished each other another good night, and I returned to my room, falling to my bed, misaligned, uncertain, but happy.

For the first time in a decade, I wasn't resting alone.

= - = - = - = - =

The morrow brought a crisp, new October day, the rain gone and the sun bright with glory of its honey-hued rays. The warmth was long gone when Autumn had begun, and little nips of frost had formed over the dewy grass and hem of the naked tree branches now preparing for hibernation.

I was eager to get up and perhaps talk more with Journey, or at least see her one more time, but to my severe regret, she had all ready left. There was a note on my kitchen table, done so with her handwriting. The time was a few minutes to nine.

_Lucas,

Had to go to work. Sorry I missed you this morning, you were still asleep. No trouble getting home. I slept really well, and hope you did too. Last night was great, for both of us. Thank you for letting me stay.

Journey_

I read over it a few times to make sure it was actually there. As with all things, I had to view it once or twice for it to stick, since I felt like I'd gone under some great hallucination since Journey showed up at my door.

I thought about a great deal of things right then. What, if there was even, was the next step? What did this even mean? Deep in the pit of me, I wanted to see Journey again, I wanted this to be forever and never end, but was it these things at all? Had I misinterpreted everything and was on a crash course of disaster if I told her. . .

This was beyond me. My experience and understanding of these things was severely lacking. I had never gone through a relationship before, never learned how to compromise, how to love, to be honest, open. Everything had been bent on getting away from what had happened, from burying the guilt and hoping for the best. Now, something else was present, some new tapestry woven in my life, a new possibility that held me like a puppet with no mind to direct my next movements. I needed help.

So, I did the one thing that I could've done in this circumstance as I'd always managed. I talked to Sade. I forgot and neglected everything else and called him, desperately asking for his help, sputtering, stammering, nervous and afraid of rejection. He simply ushered me over to his home.

I can't really describe what Sade's job is. He's more intelligent than you would think, what with all the spare metal parts and gears lying around inside of his den. Some form of engineer that I wasn't really able to comprehend, my mind being like a pool of viscous magma at the moment. I had wondered how he'd been available nearly every time I was around to ask it, but this explained more or less the whole reason.

We were both sitting in the midst of his living room, upon an old couch that was colored with a worn scarlet, surrounded by the wooded paneling of the den, a furnished and carefully crafted timber home that was sturdy as any steel structure. It was pleasant and warm, a fire actually ablaze upon some fresh logs as Sade had his own fireplace, and the walls were encompassed by many of the Native American ornamentations I'd seen just a few times before when I'd come here.

He was wiping his padded paws clean with a blotched rag after having done some work with a greasy machine part, while I waited, with strained breaths as I'd felt I'd shoved him away after the lakeside incident. There was nothing, however, about him that held the itinerary of a grudge or bitterness, just a silent musing that was satisfied I'd finally come back.

I let him know what had happened between Journey and I at the lake, though sparse with the details of the Bar Code, if any at all. I'd also told him about how she showed up on my doorstep, how we talked, and how she finally told me what had gone on in California, all of which felt good to talk about. I had so severely doubted the support of a generous friend, and I was an idiot for it.

He was rubbing his long, lupine chin with yellow eyes in the air, pondering.

"So we know you like her, that much has been established," he started, the 'we' referring to both of us. I nodded, though it was a lie. I didn't like the woman, I *loved* her.

"Does she like you?" he queried with a short glance in my direction. I stared at the floor, crumpling my lips in uncertainty.

"I. . . guess," I muttered. The wolf morph responded with a chuckle.

"She's been talking to you. She supported you at the commute. She spent the night with you. I'm pretty sure she likes you by the very least, Mr. Roswell,"

I shook my head at one of his statements, once again defending the odds against me than for me.

"She didn't spend the night *with* me, she just. . . stayed over," I retorted pathetically, seeing Journey's visage pop up once in my head as though she herself was laughing gamely.

Sade made a gesture with his hands as if balancing a couple of weights in each arm.

"All the same. Sylira has known Journey the well to do three years she's been here, and she's never done something like that. You've come along and you've changed something, Lucas, you've changed yourself and Journey," he said pensively, wispy words that I took in with every effort, both denying and accepting them through the whirlpool of battles going on inside my head.

"But what?" I asked, flecks of desperation tingling my throat. Sade smirked. He always seemed to be one step ahead of the events going on in my life.

"Feelings, Lucas. Feelings. Strong ones. By your description, a lot of good and bad ones. Haven't you been able to see that?" he queried with explanation. My face grew warm. Was he mocking me for my ignorance? Of course I hadn't seen it.

"No, Sade," I said with exasperation. "That's why I'm here right now. I don't know what I'm *supposed* to be seeing at all. Everyone seems to be living in this fantasy that when I came along Journey and I are supposed to just 'connect'. Things don't work like that. Life isn't that generous. . ."

I caught my words in mid fling and thought about them for a few random seconds. Sade replied with no hostility.

"But haven't you?" he questioned amiably.

"What?"

"Haven't you both connected? Wasn't I very generous when you first came to the Valley?"

He said these things in a rapid spin of truth rather than a statement to simply be right. But honest to God, he *was* right. Journey and I had bonded. The wolf, and so many others, had been generous. The cruelties of the concentration camps had made blind to all that.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with all this. If Journey really had feelings for me, she would have given me a sign, a notice, anything," I blanked, a little too bitterly.

A sign. A notice? 'Last night was great, for both of us.'

Us.

"She's waiting for you, Lucas. Both a natural reaction of Chimera folk and the course of deeper emotions as well. It's up to you to make things happen," he said, without response to Journey's signaling of what she felt.

My mouth started to feel like sandpaper and my hands were briskly shaking. What was this? Was he serious? When exactly was Journey 'waiting' for me to do something? I took a moment of silence, pausing, mulling over things, not really creating any logical thought, just thinking.

"How do you feel about her?" Sade finally asked. My gaze flicked to him, staring. He was looking right back.

I was a bit confused. I thought I'd all ready answered this.

"I told you, I like her,"

The lupine gave me a toothy grin, a slight, rumbling chuckle gurgling through his vocals. Always one step ahead.

"I like my mate too, but that's not how I feel about her. I'm asking you, Mr. Roswell, what your heart is saying,"

I couldn't answer that automatically. My breathing started to grow haggard. My all ready shaking hands started to feel sweaty, and that boiling, churning sensation you get in your stomach from anxiety started to build up. I was fidgeting worriedly, as though I could escape the question, find a way around it, yet at the same time, wanting to spit it out.

"I. . ." the syllable creaked out in a ripped up vocal.

I cleared my throat. I had to say it. I whispered Sade's question to myself, then clenched my eyelids closed.

They opened. I'd found the light out of the grim forest.

"I love her,"

I was reborn.

Sade had all ready known this. He had all ready known the second I'd called him up and asked him for guidance. He had all ready known the first time I'd mentioned Journey. He had seen this coming of closure happen, as an observer, a wolf on the hill with understanding eyes and composure. He knew this, because he had Sylira, and he had drawn from that.

I no longer fought with it. I no longer battled with my intentions or my questions, my worries and doubts. All had been seared away by the flame within, and my intention was clear, my objective resolute.

I looked to the wise lupine, still seeking guidance.

"I love her, Sade," I repeated, "what should I do?"

I didn't want to lose her.

"Act on your love," he answered quietly, patting me once on the back. "Live by your love. Show her you will change. Show her what she means to you. You may have been through a lot, Lucas. You may have been hurt so much you think you can't care about someone else, but that's not true," said he, the comfort of one who'd wanted me to be happy when he realized how dark the pain really was.

"Don't be afraid of her. Don't be afraid of yourself. You have no reason to fear,"

Everything he had said was sincere and to the point, and every last bit of it was the honest truth. I had too long been afraid. Too long a coward. Too long swallowed by my own misery and loneliness. I needed Journey more than I could've ever realized. If she needed me just as much, then so be it. I had once told her she needn't feel alone, needn't feel to have the misery crush and consume her. Little did I understand it was me I was talking about when I told her to seek someone out.

And she had.

"You're right. . ." was about all I could utter out without my eyes reverting to sting or my throat caught up in sobs of both joy and sorrow. Sade didn't speak any more, just patiently waited for me to cope with everything until I stood a while later, numbly, dreamily.

I was out the door when I stopped. I faced the comfortable breeze and cool air. I turned to my friend and did something that hadn't felt so whole and complete for a long time. I smiled. I smiled a true smile and spared him a few more words.

Everything was now set. The rest was up to me.

= - = - = - = - =

I had waited for her to come home after eating some lunch and busying myself with a few random things in the yard. She had opted for work, even with all that had happened, but then again, I shouldn't have expected any less. Around three, I left my home and walked to her den, the limp I hardly even acknowledging, my body bristling with newfound energy as I faced the unknown with hope and clarity.

I was there earlier than she. Her Mitsubishi wasn't in the driveway when I was standing at her mailbox, taking in all the lines and points of her home. The drive I felt had brought everything to life, even to the most static, dull appearing brick caught by my gaze. I could have watched the asphalt and felt like the richest man in the world.

Time stood still when I saw the metal vehicle of cream white drive up, a barely visible shadow of the vixen appearing through the dimmed windows. I saw movement inside the car, a flick of a head in my direction, a curiosity as to why I'd shown up. The car slowly moved past me, rolling down the concrete drive until stopping, the hybrid ignition flipping off. A moment of stillness went by as the distance between Journey and I shrank.

When she stepped out of the car, her familiar navy blue dress suit about her, and well swept wheat gold and earth brown hair around her neck, she looked at me, the diamonds of cerulean and azure encompassing me with one spark. She didn't move toward her den, only watched me, waiting, hoping. She could see the change that had occurred.

"Journey," I called, strongly and firmly, without weakness or apprehension. My love for her had done that.

"Lucas?" she said, a little surprised that I was standing there, a little baffled as to what I was planning.

Closing the door to her Mitsubishi, she strode up with a body language of eager interest, the gap that had once been a languished wall of desolated feelings now all but evaporated when she approached. My expression, my voice, my tone, everything about me resonated with importance of what I had to say. She sensed this, and looked at me with in a fond wonder as to what this was about.

I wanted to tell her right then and there, but I had a different idea. To see if it would unfold was the only thing left.

"Journey," I began, "I have something really important to tell you. I don't know what you'll say, but it means a lot to me,"

Her ears pointed to my direction, at full attention, with pure interest, voraciously locked to my stare.

"Just not here. I want to say it by the lakeside, where my backyard is. Can. . . can you come with me now?"

No discomfort. No recoils. No running away, no fear that I'd do something horrible to her. The only thing that existed between us was trust, a shared deal we'd made and were still unaware of. The only way to make it final, to make it real, was the utterance that dared to rake across my lips in a near instant.

She nodded briefly, wide eyed with constant flicks of her tail.

"Okay,"

The sun watched us walk together. We didn't say anything. We didn't need to. I felt Journey take my hand in her warm paw, letting it rest there, squeezing it, rotating her fingers that flushed my palm skin with a radiance of heat. It was hardly noticeable how things passed, how we stepped over the slowly turning grass and noted the wisp of wind through the trees and their falling leaves of golds and rubies. The stillness of the lake came in sight, and I felt myself glow. This was the scene I wanted to repeat, to try again, with no tragedy, no hurt.

When we passed my brick red home, the Ford truck, the structure's base as a whole, there we faced the waters, the dock, the tranquility roaming through the whole of Northmoorse Valley. I eased away from her tender grasp and kneeled down, picking up a rock. I looked to her, smiling, while she waited with hushed breaths.

"You once told me how all the bad things in life will eventually pass," I began, lucidly, profoundly. "How life is like a still pool of water. There will be a happiness, a joy, and then, sometimes,"

I paused, turning, lobbing the fragment of granite wildly into the air, letting it 'splunk' into the lake that created ripples. The ritual of what was before. Journey said nothing.

"Sometimes there will be hurt and pain. Sometimes there will be darkness. But you were right, Journey. The bad things leave. Your demons subside," I said, waiting for the quivers in the water to vacate and become static once more.

"They subside and you can become whole again. Happy. Well, I am happy, happier than I've been before in my entire life. The second you came into my world, Journey, there was no turning back for the way I felt,"

The vixen stared with a trembling smile. It looked as though tears were going to form in her eyes, her rivers of joy, her weeping of disbelief. She and I were resigned to this fate, and to her, perhaps she had waited even longer than I had. Perhaps she'd been looking for someone ever since her father passed away.

I took her to me. I held her close, grasping both her paws in my hands, bringing them up to my chest. She knew it. She was simply waiting.

"I feel for you like nothing else. My whole world is you. Indeed, Journey, let me say it. You have my heart, therefore I am dead without you," I steadily soothed, grinning, beaming, a new light to my face, a wildfire in my spirit, my soul, my essence.

"Journey," Her named echoed through the chasm of my mind, to every crevice and crack where the demons and dark things slept, obliterating them.

"I love you,"

A river of sensations broke and pulled apart every bad thing that had ever happened to us. The vixen embraced me, held me tight, wrapped her arms around me, while I did the same. Not surprising to either of us, we let our lips collide together, and kissed, as deeply as we could, for as long as time would go on. They were hungry, lashing kisses, her tongue flaring over my own, over my lips, tracing over my face and cheeks, while I nuzzled her russet furred features with my nose, breathing in her sweet musk and accented spicy perfume.

I could feel myself stirring, warming, a desire coming over me, a hunger taking me by force. I broke our kiss, if only briefly, to see the same reaction coiled within Journey's eyes, a delicate, sensual want that had been smothered by years of anguish and agony. Our patience evaded us, our love consumed us, every fickle second we spared not entangled together a second lost.

Hand in paw, we both trekked back up the lakeside hill to my home, entering through the glass pane door that led into my living room. All the while a heat built up around us, my heartbeat racing, a tightening in my pants, the disregard for what was old to take the new, scents of arousal lingering in the air.

We found a haven in my bedroom. I locked the door, shutting out the world, closing the windows, leaving us to our dimly lit paradise that would forever be sacrosanct. Words did not emerge from either of us, just touches, traces, exploring fingers, caressing sweetness. I felt her head and let my fingers fold through the lines of her silky hair, planting my lips on her cheeks as I did, absorbing her aroma as it sent signals to my brain and awoke the lustful portion we all know and possess.

The vixen went to me, stroking my arms with the leathery grace of her palms, electrified adrenalin rushing to every area the nerves could sense. I felt them dive under the threshold of my shirt, to where my bare stomach could be touched and caressed, ignited by the fuel of our hungering passion. I returned this by slowly removing Journey's business jacket, she allowing me by straightening her limbs, letting the fabric slide off her shoulders to reveal the gleam of her amber fur. We continued to speckle each other our hot licks and kisses, standing still, my hands on the vixen's sides, roving upward and downward as she breathed in highlights of ecstacy.

On and on we steadily went, Journey tugging at the lining of my own shirt, signaling me to move so it could be freed from my flesh. I let her do so, hardly able to bear even a few seconds without her touches, as the cotton tether was flung from me and carelessly to the ground, where the fox had my torso exposed, invigorated. Her paws went to my neck this time, her loving nips around the features of my front while I continued to pace myself with little scratches to her back, down to the base of her tail to the very tip of her ears.

I decided to take her bare, remove what was left of her, as our rhythm steadily increased, speeding onward, the dance of lovers engorged by their undeniable feelings for the other. I let my trembling fingers come to her dress now, shaking with gusto as I carefully undid the buttons to the black satin, while she snugged her paws to my waist, unlatching the belt that held my trousers in place, all in an excited fury that was building steam.

We desperately needed the sensation of the other, so we were fast in our actions, desiring the comfort of the bed, to entrap the other as much as we could. My leather belt slicked off while I finally managed to get the dress out of the way, spilling forth the image of Journey's slender, exposed stomach and curves, her breasts held in place by a white laced bra.

I could feel her soft arms ring about my back, palms touching the frame of the spine, rubbing it in rounded directions as I shivered with the erotic sensation it gave me. She was murring in hushed sounds from the pit of her throat, and I obliged by snagging off the bra keeping her womanly mantle hidden from me. My lips buried in her neck, one of my hands undid the buckle to the back strap of the garment, which led it retreat to the floor, while I felt the tumble of her breasts rack upon my chest in one smooth movement.

Somehow, we pulled ourselves to the sheets of the bed, in my own behavior letting myself fall to the back, a timid gesture for the vixen to lead. I was 28, with ten years of anguish on my shoulders and no clear cut knowledge as to how to please her to the fullest. I wanted her to teach me, show me how to be a true lover, allow her to demonstrate what passion could really mean. She took this sober hint, tilting her head as she lay on me, licking me once on the lips to silently announce her approval, her "okay."

I managed to grip away her skirt, pulling it over her shapely hips to reveal the last trace of her underwear guarding her loins, a cream white set of panties. Her own tugs were returned as she forcefully yanked off my jean pants and socks, little left to us but the heat of our bodies and a tangy sweat from our skin. She then laid atop me, paws and fingers twining into my own, reimbursing her kisses of affection with lusty, hungry lip smacks, searching for sweet spots, hunting for a reaction. The pressure of her nether region to my own was also starting to become apparent, as her motions assembled friction between the two of us, I trying to bide of the greed of my own animalistic desire as I wanted this to be a steady, loving experience.

Almost simultaneously, we both went for the fabrics holding our loins in check, my underpants hiding my stimulated erection, her panties holding the hidden secret of her thirsty lips. Journey went first, trailing down my legs as she gently got those white bracers off my ankles, I letting off a dry chuckle as our eagerness was apparent. I dug my fingers to her laced garments, getting them down her thighs, she assisting me by roving it from her knee then to the floor, as we were now bare, exposed, open to the other.

I understood now the importance of these love making rituals. It was all about laying yourself open for your partner, with no ties to any part of the world, just the two of you. Now the vixen and I were free, allowed to fly in our star struck feelings to never be resisted again.

Sweat was finding itself all over my body. I couldn't believe the intense heat being generated, as I could feel the sheet under me grow slightly damp. I continued this escapade of a smoldering euphoria as one of my daring hands cupped Journey's breast, allowing a few squeezes and pinches of her pink mound which was hiding just underneath the splash of cream white running up her chest. Intrigued, I rotated my digits around the mantle, Journey letting off a few satisfied groans as the sensitive nerves tickled her with pleasure.

My free hand was taken by her black furred paw, it being brought to her muzzle as she let her tongue slide across each finger, a ginger lick of her moist layer all in a playful but sensual act of enticement. I let off a quick smile, and her hungry gaze still trapped my face, blue eyes that never left me as we fondled the other in a destitution of sexual rights.

I felt very prepared to openly thrust into her now, as my body was growing more empty and starving by the seconds. Even my damaged right leg had subsided to care about itself, all for the sake of this nature, my member quivering as it could just feel the opening of Journey's clit rub across its under-flesh. I had to grit my teeth, as the feeling was quite indescribable, save that it was so good in sensation it almost hurt.

I had to signal my need to the vixen, show her my status so as not to overdrive the pace set between us. My hands evaded from Journey's perky torso and then went to her soft buttocks, I laboring to massage them delicately with fond caressing and hybrid squeezes. A tiny yelp from Journey proclaimed I'd hit a pleasurable area, so I indulged my love further by assailing her haunches with the same action, a few fingers just carefully missing the opening to her inner walls, as the near misses were more erotic than direct sexuality. For a few moments, she took her time in enjoying my actions, just a few moments spared to herself that was only for herself. I almost felt a little impatient, until she crawled forward further, raising herself, looking at me hungrily and eagerly.

She pushed her vagina down the mast of my erection. It was well moist and wet, so it was a steady, slow thrust, but nonetheless, I groaned out as my every inch was taken by her inner walls. She sucked in a cascade of raw breath as her lower body thrust down to me, nearly sitting at the base of my genital, taunting me by holding it there for a period of seconds. She whimpered in a kind of canid joy, and I was frozen, the nerves in my loins bursting so constantly and rapidly it was too much. In order to describe it properly, I can only say it feels as though the best sensation you've ever felt has overcome you, to the point that you feel you need to break from it. The fact that Journey was teasing me by holding her action steady was driving me wild, I nearly starting a flurry of rapid thrusts into her.

She drew back, raising herself up just as slowly, putting her paws on my arms, while I clenched to her hips, literally needing something to hold on to as this act of sex was ineffably intense. My breath sharpened and I had to hold, only to gasp out loud as she threw her loins back down the stiffness of my shaft. She was creating rhythm, I realized, a little wiggle of her hips while she was pressed down a little signal for me to thrust upward. Once more, she rose up and fell, this time I obliging by throwing my nether region upward as she bucked once and gave a yelp of pleasure.

We started a simple series of fluid rocking that takes place when two have found their place together. All instances before is simply a quest to situate oneself into a comfortable action before the two meld and engulf the other in their actions of passion. Both now wet and slick, we were able to trade thrusts and lunges with comfort, each of us crying in yowls of satisfaction as our sexual sonata began to reach its crescendo. I was hardly able to hold myself back.

It took a great deal of endurance not to ejaculate too early and ruin what we were experiencing. Those who know their mates well can easily orgasm together in a perfect match that comes with the experience of knowing their love after a central of years. I was out of practice in terms of that, but thanks to an old will bent completely on survival, I held it out much longer than expected, until finally, the animal within was raging with lust, and I had to let go.

Like a cannon going off during fireworks, the energy required to empty my seed rattled my form and shook me violently. I heard Journey cry out as she willingly took the white hot liquid now trailing into her, while finally, a few seconds later, she let herself give to orgasm as well. As I was thrusting my last movements weakly, she pressed down hard, trying to accept every drop, or simply remain close, layering my skin with her soft body like an embracing blanket.

A moment of silence, the only sound our harsh and heavy breathing, Journey's pants, my gasping. I had to roll my arms around her, hug her tight, keep her there with me as my erection subsided. I'm not certain how I felt. Good. Fantastic. Excellent. Fixed, removed of all my burdens, healed, refreshed, renewed.

Alive.

We didn't move. We didn't want to. We had the rest of the day to look forward to. The vixen raised herself up slightly, her head being rested on my chest, and she spoke, tiredly and sweetly.

"I love you too,"

One more hug. One more smile, one more kiss. I could think of only one timid response.

"Wanna' listen to some Bobby Vinton afterward?"

My love, my mate, she giggled and grinned, writhing around somewhat, her soft tail curling around one of my legs.

"Blue Velvet would be nice. . ."

_She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May her tender sighs

Love was ours

Ours a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow

Like a flame burning brightly

But when she left, gone was the glow of_

Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm, a memory

Through the years

And I still can see blue velvet

Through my tears

= - = - = - = - =

My name is Lucas Roswell. I have been lost in life for nearly a decade. At eighteen I was placed under imprisonment, against my will, in a national concentration camp organized by the Bar Code conspiracy, labeled as a terrorist for embracing my Chimera brothers and sisters with open arms.

I was freed and rescued at the age of 24. I was also paid a hefty some by the Government to keep the world in the dark about what had happened during their "confused state of operations," and as an "apology to the crimes against innocent humanity." Based on their actions, I was separated from my family under the influence that they were dead. I moved back to Junction for 4 years, trying to piece back together what was lost and to say I was sorry.

I never did.

I am now residing in Northmoorse Valley with the love of my life, Journey Lucrecia. She is helping me get through the dark times of my memories, as I with her. I live in a loving community of both Chimera and human whom have set aside their differences and learned to care about the other regardless of difference.

I am home.

My name is Lucas Roswell.

I am Number 72-47-44 of the Flankstone, Texas concentration camp.

I am a Bar Code.

And I am alive.

END

=(KIK)=