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Firestorm

Deception

Before going back downstairs Runs With Stick took a quick shower and changed her clothes. She choose jeans and a warm loose top with sneakers because it would look less threatening to the kit when he woke up and found himself tied up in a strange place. She put her teacher's clothes in a bag with the rest of the more formal items to be left at a charity drop box at a nearby shopping centre. Finally, she took a bag that she had prepared with other practical and comfortable clothes and put it in the back seat of the rental car. She wore no makeup or extra jewelry, just a wristwatch and her wedding ring. Her foot bone necklace she put in her large purse along with the cleaver and a bottle of sky-blue indamo powder. She would keep those items close in case some unforecast need for them arose.

By the time she took a chair beside the cot the little fox was already stirring. Five minutes later he was rubbing his eyes and yawning as the last of the drug dissipated. After he cleared his eyes he looked around, took in the strange dim space, the cage, and his EA sitting there staring intently at him. Then he checked out the harness that restrained him, examined the sturdy straps that criss-crossed his thin chest, explored the back as far as his paws could reach, and even sniffed the leather to confirm that it was new and apparently unused. Finally he lifted the thin chain that limited his range of movement and tested the strength against his own. He lost, of course. Bloedrye's people had bought the best they could find.

To his credit the kit did not panic or break down in tears. He put the chain down, arranged it neatly on the blankets and asked: "Missus Pawstone, may I have a drink of water, please?"

Runs With Stick passed him a soft plastic bottle from a pasteboard box after twisting off the cap. He drank half of it down in one long swallow; the drugs she had used tended to make one wake up thirsty. He kept the half-filled bottle when he was done.

"Missus Pawstone," he said, twisting the bottle nervously between his paws, "am I kit-napped?"

"It's _kid_napped." She replied, a little more curtly than she had intended. "And yes, you are."

"But I'm a kit, so I should be kit-napped."

She could have told him that the word had originated in Greece, where the kids of wealthy goats were often taken for ransom, and that it was now an accepted term for the unlawful confinement of any species, but she knew from experience that once he decided that something should be some way he would argue the point until you gave up or fell asleep.

"Fine, Kit-napped it is."

"Why am I kit-napped?"

"That's none of your business." There was no sense trying to explain the situation to the kit, and the less he knew about Bloedrye the better his chances of surviving were.

Leslie studied her through narrow, suspicious eyes. "Are you a pervert, Missus Pawstone?"

She smiled ruefully. The kit had evidentially been conditioned by his parents to be suspicious of strangers in certain circumstances, but Runs With Stick did not represent that kind of danger.

"No, Leslie, I am not a pervert, but I have to keep you away from your parents for a while."

The kit considered that. "You want to extort them."

She was not completely surprised; she had discovered that the kit had an amazing vocabulary and remembered everything he heard. "Now where did you get a fancy word like that?" She asked.

"Mommy and Daddy used it when they were talking about finding me a safe school, in case someone wanted to extort daddy into doing something. He said that he did not deal with extortionists, which I guess is the name for creatures that kit-nap children, and Mommy said that was why I needed a really safe school."

"Do you know what 'extort' means?"

"To wear them down?" He guessed. "Like when the wind wears away the mountains?"

She laughed at the eerie accuracy of his misconception. "That's 'erode'," she corrected, "but I expect that your absence will have much the same effect." She indicated a pile of clothes that she had laid out on the end of the bed. She had purchased them at a charity clothing outlet based on the sizes on his spare clothes at the school. "Now let's get you out of those old clothes and into some fresh clean ones."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"There's a toilet right there." She pointed to the camping toilet in the corner. He looked at it suspiciously.

"That's not a toilet. It's a bucket with a toilet seat on it."

"Did you ever go camping?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a toilet there?"

"Some places, and showers too! But others had something called an 'out-house'. It was like a toilet but instead of flushing everything went straight down into a big hole. It smelled bad."

"Well, this is sort of the same, but I couldn't dig a big deep hole in the concrete floor so I put a bucket there instead."

"But it's not outside. An out-house has to be outside." He insisted.

"So, it's an 'in-house' portable toilet."

Leslie thought about it for a few seconds. While he was thinking his eyes lost focus, his mouth hung open and he became perfectly still. Nothing would distract him while he was like this, she had found. One would think that he was suffering from a petit-mal epileptic seizure, but he was just processing information. Sometimes the deductions he reached n this state bordered on genius.

His eyes snapped into focus and he stared at her. "You want me to pooh in a bucket in your house because you can't let me out of this cage in case I run home and then you can't extort my parents anymore." He stated.

She was impressed by the way he had compiled all of the data he had accumulated since waking up into one conclusion. "That's correct."

He smiled, pleased with himself.

"You're not upset about being abducted, about being kit-napped?"

"No. Mommy and Daddy did not want me to be kit-napped but they told me if I was I should cooperate with the kit-nappers until ... until they give me back." Something had came into the kit's eyes there, he had been about to say something else but had remembered not to at the last second. Runs With Stick suspected that he was going to say "until there is a chance to escape".

"So it's like an accident." He concluded.

"An accident?"

"Yes. Mommy says accidents happen and that we just have to live with them and carry on. 'No sense crying over spilt milk' she says." He sounded positive but the kit was frowning.

"What does your Daddy say?"

"He says accidents are the result of inattention and poor planning and that we have to 'adapt and overcome'."

"For what it's worth, I agree with your Daddy." They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. "Go on," she said pointing to the clothes and the port-a-potty, "do your business."

"I can't." He said, matter-of-factly, and before she could ask why not he explained. "I can't get undressed until you leave. You are not family and you are not allowed to look at me when I don't have underwear or a bathing suit on."

"Correct again. I shall depart." She stood up and left the cage, closing the door and locking it with a sturdy padlock behind her. "Call me when you are done, and don't forget to put the lid back down on the 'in-house'. It will help control the smell."

She went back up the stairs, thinking that even MacGyver would have trouble pulling off an escape with just a plastic bottle, an empty bucket and some size 6 junior clothes to work with, but she locked the door at the top of the stairs just the same.

When she reached the kitchen her personal phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and recognized the number of the young F.O.X. agent that she had been softening up over the week. She wondered what the chances were that Silver and his mate had already discovered that their kit was missing, and of Kyroo's connection to the fictional EA. She decided that it was unlikely and answered the call.

"Hello, Ruth here." She said in her sexiest voice.

"Hey Ruth, Kyroo here."

"Why hello, Kyroo. I was just thinking of you."

"Yeah? Me too, thinking about you, I mean. Not me. That's why I called, because I was thinking ... about you, that is."

"You can't fool me you naughty kit. You were thinking about something else entirely, weren't you?" She put a lot of tease in her tone, and bit of desire. It worked every time.

"Yeah, I was kinda thinking that we might get back together. I really enjoyed your company, and you seemed to enjoy mine .... so ...." His voice dripped with lusty eagerness.

He could be faking it, a voice inside her said, sucking you into a trap. But another part of her believed that he was still in the dark about her. If he had tried to be suave in that arrogant secret agent way they all had she would have been more suspicious, but he seemed genuinely horny and truth be told she was a little randy herself. Dealing with dangerous situations always made her that way and the exchange with Bloedrye was the closest thing she had come to being killed in years. "I'd like that." She said.

"There is one thing though."

Her ears stood up as her radar kicked into high gear. "Yessss ...?"

"I know that you don't want me to go to your place, and my place is a dump ...."

"Yesss ..."

"But would you mind if we went to a hotel, you know, somewhere nice? With room service, and music and ... and such."

She gave a deep throaty chuckle. "And a big soft bed to roll around in?"

"Yeah, especially the soft part. I mean, the gazebo is nice and all but I think that bench is giving me splinters."

She had to laugh, the kid was priceless. Had she ever been that young? Yes, she had, and twice as naive. The memories made her choke back the laughter.

"Sure." She said. There's a place that looks nice on Carling, near the big theatre."

"The Coliseum? Yeah, I know the area. When are you free?"

She glanced at her watch. "Give me two hours to wrap things up here."

"Okay. I'll go ahead and check in. I'll text you the room number."

"Excellent. Oh, and Kyroo ..."

"Yes?"

"Get us some wine. I'm in a mellow mood and something cool and white would go down well, besides yourself, that is." She heard the satisfied snort over the line as he absorbed her compliment.

"Will do Ruth. See you soon."

"Nos vemos." And before he could ask what that meant she disconnected.

She could hear Leslie calling her from downstairs. Two hours would give her time to feed the kit, including another dose of knock-out drugs since he would travelling in the trunk again. She would just have to make sure that she gave him enough to keep him out for the time she would need with the arctic fox, and for what would come after.

* * * * * * * *

Silver and Vikki drove back to the Academy in silence. Once she opened her mouth to speak but he gave her the paw signal that meant it was not safe to talk.

That this Silk character had them under surveillance was obvious. And the extent of his information indicated that he had the Academy wired for sound, at the very least. That would have been all too easy to do with all the Agriculture Canada folk wandering around, he realized. Had his enemy taken advantage of that situation or did he have someone on the inside in the Treasury Board to arrange the move? Probably the latter, he concluded. The spy could also have been the source of the information about the courier.

The bottom line was that he could no longer trust the F.O.X. communications system or the computer network because they could be compromised. He could not even speak freely anywhere in the facilities or near them, and while he was under surveillance he did not dare take anyone on a walk through the Central Farm for a private conversation. Doing so would probably result in the return of just a portion of their son. He had to operate as if his office, his car, his phone and his house were all bugged, and that left him with very few options.

He had a more disturbing thought - what if there was an infiltrator inside F.O.X. itself? It was a remote possibility but one that he had to consider. How much does one really know about their colleagues, he wondered, even in an organization that regularly monitors and reviews their activities? F.O.X. had suffered its share of double agents in the past, and Silver had the scars to show for it. The number of creatures that he knew he could trust could be counted on one paw, one of Stubby McGee's paws actually, and fifty percent of those creatures were sitting in the car with him.

Other than Vikki, the only other agent he could trust was Kain Algorath, and only because it was Algorath that Silk wanted out of the way. Algorath, the only one with the talent to find and overcome the most sophisticated of electronic intrusions, and the analyst who had apparently made a breakthrough in the courier attack case. Algorath, who was scheduled to brief Silver about the case in less than thirty minutes.

Silver was dying to know what Algorath had found out. The normal progression for these cases was for the analyst to brief the senior analyst or the duty officer, who would then either call in the Chief of Staff or the Director, or both. Only after they had been briefed and issued their instructions as to what approach to use or which line of investigation to follow would others be read-in to the program. But Algorath was the senior analyst, and the current duty officer, so it was likely that only he knew he details of the investigation so far. Sending him away without hearing him out would effectively put an end to it. it was not like that was unheard of; analysts occasionally came across programs being run by other branches of the government or allied agencies, or it may be that their political masters were aware of the plot and other measures that did not include F.O.X. were being employed to thwart them, a jurisdictional issue.

Letting Algorath deliver his brief meant that Silk would have to eliminate them as well, and since he could not send Silver and Vikki on vacation he would take them out through their son. Silver was well aware of the psychological pressure that a dead child and grieving mate could bring to bear and was not about to risk that. But neither would he stand for letting Silk get away with whatever it was he was up to. That meant that he had less than twenty-five minutes to come up with a plan and figure out how to communicate it without words.

Silver drove automatically as he settled into a state similar to what Runs With Stick had experienced with Leslie. After a few minutes his lips pursed and he began to whistle, mixing chords from several classical and rock songs.

In the other seat Vikki smiled cruelly, showing the tips of her fangs. If she was not mistaken the combination of tunes indicated that Silver not only had a plan, but one that would bring great pain to a creature they knew only as Silk. She would have to be content with that for now.

Back at the Academy Silver went straight to the Operations Centre where he knew he would find Kain Algorath. On the way he saw Kyroo Echos just leaving the building and Silver pulled him aside.

"Where is Johnson and Embers?" He asked the taller but slimmer arctic fox.

"They are, uh, back at the dorm, preparing for a night exercise we're going to conduct later, when it's dark."

"Sure they are. When they're finished yiffing tell them that the exercise is cancelled. All training is cancelled. Everyone is to stand down on the current operation until further notice.

Was Silver speaking unnaturally loud? Maybe it was just the acoustics here in the corridor, Kyroo thought. "Roger that Chief." Answered, perplexed with the change of direction but not daring to ask why.

"Where were you off to?" Silver asked.

"I was going to sign out for a few hours, grab a bite and maybe catch a movie." Kyroo lied. With all training suspended the next step might be to confine them all to the Academy grounds.

Silver thought for a moment and then said "Okay, but don't stay out all night. I'll pass the word about the training on to Johnson and Ember. Report in first thing tomorrow for further instructions."

"Right Chief." And with that Silver and Vikki, the agent he dreamed about when he had those kind of dreams, left him and entered the Operations Centre.

Kain Algorath saw them enter the Ops Centre and hurried over to greet them.

"I was just about to pass over control to Bill Hanlan." He gestured towards the older grey fox that was reading the operations log. "As soon as we are done I'll join you in the briefing room."

"That will not be necessary." Silver said as he took the smaller arctic fox by the forearm and led him to quiet corner of the Ops Centre close to Algorath's own workstation, which, judging by Silk's knowledge of his investigation was certainly bugged. Vikki followed.

"I'm shutting the investigation into the courier attack down." Silver told Algorath when they got there. "The whole thing has got our NATO allies squawking like a bunch of seagulls about jurisdiction and international law and rights violations and such."

Algorath was about to protest, but he saw Vikki's eyes open wide when Silver mentioned squawking seagulls. Those two words were on the restricted list, words that should never be used in official communication because they were code words. As Duty Officer he had to memorize the list of such code words and know their meanings. 'Squawking' was their code for 'unsafe to communicate - unfriendly ears' and 'Seagull' was the duress code, only to be used if an agent was communicating something under enemy control. He looked to Silver and noted that the big silver fox was standing with his shoulders hunched, his back bent and his arms crossed. At the same time his gaze shifted up and down, refusing to maintain eye contact. In terms of body language that meant that he was lying. But Silver never displayed any body language that he did not want to display, making him the Academy's foremost poker player, so Algorath figured that he must be doing it to reinforce the message that what he was going to say was all untrue, something for unauthorized ears. That realization led to the conclusion that the room must be bugged. He would have to be careful how he replied.

Even though his thoughts had lasted just a heartbeat Algorath realized that he had been silent too long. He covered up by sputtering as if he was having trouble producing words in his shock and then said, "What? But I think that I'm onto something, something big."

"That doesn't matter. As of now you are on paid leave. I want you to leave anything work related here and go pack up your things. You are to leave the Academy grounds and leave the City until further notice. In fact, you should leave the country. I hear that Denmark is nice. Why don't you take your things there and have some fun? Swim in the ocean, drink some beer, catch up on your old hobbies maybe?"

In previous conversations, back when Kain was new at the Academy, Silver had always referred to the former hacker's laptop and other devices as his things, as in "get your things, we're going on a little trip", which meant they would be hacking someone from a remote location. Kain had put all that stuff away when he was given a position on the planning and research staff after recovering from being too close to an assassination attempt on Silver. He kept them in his family's mansion in the Ottawa suburb of Kanata, where his father, an executive in a high-tech firm, had built a small mansion for them to live in during their frequent trips to Ottawa. And Silver had also referred to his hacker past as "his little hobby" on more than one occasion, but not recently. Not in the last year. If the listening devices that Silver was speaking to had been put in recently the listeners would not know the reference. And there was one more thing. Kain knew everything about the internet and its inner workings. If you had to pick a place on the planet to do some hacking from, then Denmark would be highest on your list. They had better connectivity to the web's backbone than any other country, oodles of bandwidth, and privacy laws that kept the intelligence agencies like F.O.X. from intercepting web traffic without a pawfull of warrants. It was hacker paradise.

"If you say so Chief." Kain replied cautiously. "I suppose I could pack up my kit and take a few days off." Kain had always referred to his hacker gear as his kit and Silver gave a slight nod of his head to show that he understood. But Kain also noted that Vikki winced as if in pain at the word 'kit'. He wondered why.

"But I'm not sure that I should go without confirming this with the Director." Kain continued.

"Gold is away in England for a meeting of the allied agency heads." Silver informed him. That was true enough. "As per regulations while he is away I am king of this particular castle."

Castle was another codeword. It meant 'agent in peril'. Kain's eyebrows went up for an instant before he could control them. Someone was in danger, but who? "Well, it is your castle." He said, raising an eyebrow to turn it into a question,

"Yes, albeit a minor one." As he said the word 'minor' Silver's right paw cut the air at hip height.

It took Kain a second to figure that one out. In F.O.X. parlance minor meant deputy. Sunray was the agent in charge and Sunray minor was the second-in-command. But The Chief of Staff had no deputy, unless he was referring to his spouse? Then Kain remembered the paw gesture, minor could also mean junior. He remembered that Silver and Vikki had booked out of the Academy to go pick up their kit at school. He looked at Vikki and silently mouthed "Leslie?" He received a tearful nod as confirmation. So that was it, Kain thought, their son has been kidnapped and they are being forced to cooperate. That explained Silver's use of the duress code.

"So, although you're our top gun when it comes to planning I'm sure that we will be able to hold the bastions without you for a while."

More code words. Top gun was the code to pass command, usually given when the leader was about to be captured or compromised, and Silver's position was certainly compromised. But bastion was the rarest code of all - seen only in the most secret of missions. It meant 'all means authorized'. In other words, any methods, from extortion and bribery, to torture and deadly force could be used. And it could only be issued after receiving a warrant signed by three members of the Cabinet and the senior Justice of the Supreme Court.

Kain realized how dangerous this situation could be, not only for Silver's offspring but for him and Silver too. Bastion could only be authorized by the Prime Minister. By rights Kain should demand to see the warrant, but Kain doubted that Silver had one; there had not been enough time for him to get downtown and back with it, even if the right combination of creatures just happened to be found having dinner together. If things went south and they became a political liability Silver would spend the rest of his days in jail, and Kain might be joining him just by dint of neglecting to ask to see the warrant.

It did not take him long to make up his mind. Silver was a hard boss but one that always had your back. If the Chief of Staff went down for this Kain knew that he would everything he could to make sure that he went down alone.

"I read you, Chief. I'll just finish passing the duty over to Bill and I'll be on my way."

Silver raised his voice. "Just to be crystal clear, allow me to reiterate."

Kain knew that not only was Silver was speaking for the benefit of those listening in, but he was also about to pass on some instructions. Using the common grammatical mistake of saying 'reiterate' instead of 'repeat' was another communications code, meaning 'do the opposite of what I say'.

"Your investigation is a false trail." Silver continued, letting Kain know that he was on the right track. "You must drop it. Moreover, I do not want any of our agents currently in the field involved in this. And until further notice no one here is to leave Ottawa. Got that?"

Kain tried to sound disappointed for the benefit of the listeners as he acknowledged the orders. It wasn't hard because he had suddenly been struck with doubts about the mission. As Silver strode out of the Ops Centre all that Kain could think of was _how the hell am I supposed to be in charge of F.O.X. if I am in Denmark? _ He supposed that he would have to figure that out on the flight over.

Silver went straight to their car and Vikki had to hurry to keep up with him. She had heard everything he had said to Algorath and now understood the situation fully. They had to be seen to play along with the extortionist's demands and trust that Algorath would be able to figure out some way to stop whatever plot he was hatching ... And hopefully get their kit back at the same time. But she knew Silver, and given the choice between his son and any number of citizens he would sacrifice his son, as would she.

They drove home as ordered in silence; there was nothing to say that they cared for their enemy to hear. Silver parked in the garage but instead of going straight into the house he walked over to a small garden surrounding a flagpole that was flying the Canadian flag and stopped to pull a few caterpillars off the leaves of a rose bush. Vikki caught his eye and gave him the paw signal that meant "is it safe?" He countered with one that meant "no" and added a shrug, modifying it to "probably not".

"I've been neglecting my garden at the Academy." He mused as he straightened some plants that had been flattened by a recent rain.

Vikki remembered the spot where Leslie had been conceived very well. It was far from any buildings and had no power lines running to it, no electricity whatsoever. Silver had been so busy with his job as Chief of Staff that he rarely visited to tend the rock garden he had started there as a form of therapy against the stress of being a secret agent. If there was any place safe to talk the garden would probably be it.

"We should go visit it tomorrow." She commented. "Meanwhile, what would you like for supper?"

"Anything."

While she warmed up the oven for a couple of frozen pizzas he took out a box full of old vinyl albums from under the stairs. Silver rarely listened to his records since Vikki had bought a docking station and downloaded all of his sixties and early seventies favourites onto her iPod. But he had kept the rare albums that were not available for download and tonight he was in the mood for one of them. When he found it he dusted off the turntable and placed the disc on it carefully. A minute later she heard the soft strains of the Berlin Philharmonic playing something that she did not recognize.

After putting the pizzas on the rack and setting the timer Vikki went into the living room. Silver was sitting on the couch with his jaw on his paw and staring into space as the music played. The piece had started with a clash of cymbals, like lighting on a lonely mountain, and it continued in that vein. She imagined the gods fighting over the fate of some unsuspecting mortal. Then it tapered off into a melancholy movement evoking sadness as despair.

She picked up the record's dust jacket. It was Tchaikovsky's fourth symphony. She read the notes on the back that explained how the composer had written this piece during the most tumultuous year of his life, a year marked by a stress filled marriage, illness and insanity. She put the jacket down and went back to the kitchen. She turned off the oven, leaving the half-cooked pizzas inside, and went to the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. Opening it she poured two glasses and brought them and the remainder of the bottle to the coffee table. She put one of the glasses in Silver's paw and sat down beside him on the couch.

The melancholy air continued through the second movement. The third was hard to interpret, a mix of emotions that might have represented his journey back to sanity, with the strings being plucked instead of bowed through the whole movement. The last movement revisited the clash of the fates.

The final crescendo held hope and the promise of good things to come, but only a promise, nothing was certain. When the last note faded away Vikki looked at her mate and saw that his cheeks were wet with tears, his lip was trembling and his eyes were shut as if he was in pain, which, she realized, he was, just as she had been since learning of Leslie's disappearance.

She reached out and took the untouched wine from his paw and set it on the table. Then she leaned back and drew him to her. And for the next hour she held him while he cried against her breast.

* * * * * * * *

Runs With Stick measured out enough of the knock out drug to make the kit sleep for five hours. That would give her about four hours with the arctic fox before she had to make her excuses to leave. Just in case she miscalculated she secured the kit's wrists and put a muzzle on him so he could not cry out. She also tried to make the trunk as comfortable as possible by putting the mattress from the cot in it, drilling some air holes and rigging the light so it would stay on in case he woke up in there. She did not want him to panic and hurt himself by accident.

No, the voice inside her spoke, you'll do all the hurting that's necessary, won't you?

Shut up, she told it.

She had suggested the hotel near the movie theatre for the express purpose of parking in the theatre's large lot. With fifteen screens they needed a lot of parking space and her rental would blend in there. She parked on the far side and walked around the theatre to get to the hotel. As she approached she looked for signs of surveillance but saw none. She entered the lobby exactly two hours after their phone conversation.

Kyroo had sent her the room number so she went straight up to the fifth floor and knocked on the door of his room. He opened it so quickly she suspected that he must have been waiting just inside for her. She slipped in, gave the room a quick once-over in case it was a trap and seeing everything in order released the handle of her cleaver and pulled her paw out of her big purse to embrace the slim arctic fox. She sought his mouth with hers and gave him a deep kiss as he ran his paws over her back and shoulders. When he griped her buttocks she broke the kiss off and pushed him back with a laugh.

"Where's that wine? I'm thirsty."

"Here by the TV."

He had purchased a couple of bottles of dry white wine and thoughtfully put them in the ice bucket to chill while he waited for her. She sat on the bed as he pulled the cork on one and filled the small tumblers that had come with the room. He carried them over and she took the one he offered. She doubted that the glass was drugged, if this was a set up all they had to do was charge in guns drawn, but she kept her purse nearby just in case. At the first sign of wooziness she would take his foot off and then slit his throat.

She clinked glasses with him and took a healthy swallow. He did the same. He had told her on their second rendezvous that he was a lightweight drinker. She, on the other paw, could drink a pack of outlaw bikers under the table and come back for more. She would have to make sure he tried to keep up with her.

Neither of them felt any urgency there in the nice hotel room, protected from the elements and the swarms of biting insects that had already started to appear. They cuddled, kissed and petted each other as they sipped their wine. She finished hers quickly and made him empty his glass so she could fill them both up at once. She made sure to put more in his and pretended to drink half of hers where she stood by the TV.

"Hey, you had better slow down." He laughed.

"You had better speed up. I want you loose and wild by the time we get to the main event. But meanwhile ..." She settled back in beside him and sealed his mouth with hers as she tried to suck his tongue out by the roots.

Paws wandered as their faces churned against each other. He found a button above her tail and set it free. She discovered a belt buckle and separated the two halves. He slid a paw down under her jeans, cupping a generous buttock through cotton panties. She popped the button that the belt buckle had concealed, but instead of pulling the tab on the zipper below she let her claws drag down over the pulsating bulge that had risen there.

Kyroo had been aching before she arrived, ever since the fleeting fantasy in the lounge actually, and it was all he could do to keep from creaming his jeans when he felt those claws dig in. But F.O.X. had taught him a thing or two about control, so he concentrated his will, redirected his mind, and bore down on the muscle groups that would stem the rising tide inside him while he sought an advantage. He recalled that she was wearing a blouse with buttons up the front and without looking he found them with his free paw. One by one they slipped through their holes until the blouse hung open, exposing two large breasts held back by a plain white bra.

He rubbed one with the palm of his paw through the thin material. The nipple responded. He squeezed the other, which worked too. He debated reaching around to flick the catch open the way Silver had taught them but instead he pushed the material up until her breasts were exposed. Rock-hard nipples stood out from the short wispy fur. He rolled one between his digits as he caressed the mound beneath it. His other paw, feeling left out, pulled back far enough to get his claws under the elastic of her panties and then it sank in again, this time feeling the warm flesh of the bare buttock with nothing but fur between them. She moaned at his touch. Encouraged, he worked his digits between her cheeks, seeking any moist hole.

She had been squeezing his cock through the thick material of his jeans while he was loosening her clothing, and now she dug around until she found the tab on the zipper and pulled it down in one slow, steady movement. The material parted as he rose up from within, the boxers he had worn no impediment. She slipped a paw through the slit on their front and gripped his prick firmly. But she did not move her paw on it. She just squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed, in a steady rhythm that heightened his desire. He countered by slowing his breathing and his heart rate to match the pace of her caresses.

She chuckled, a throaty sound that managed to sound sexy without ridicule. Before he knew what she doing she had jumped out of bed and was headed to the table where the wine bucket sat. As she went she shrugged off her blouse and bra. She brought the first bottle back with her and added a bit to what was still in her glass and then poured the rest into his.

"Chin-Chin." She toasted as she stood there beside the bed, looking wonderfully full and statuesque with her breasts bared above her jeans. Kyroo leaned forward and raised his paw to the button at her waist. She danced backwards out of his reach. "Ah-ah-ah! Drink up first, and then we can play. He swallowed a big mouthful, put his glass down and sat up, wrapping his arms around her hips as he did. He buried his long white snout between her ponderous breasts as his paws traced the waist band of her jeans, meeting in the middle where the front button was.

He had it open in an instant and he worked the tight denim material over her hips and down her legs, hooking his thumbs into the band of her panties so that they followed. He could only reach as far as her knees so he let go of them there and returned his paws to her buttocks, caressing them as he nuzzled and kissed her breasts. She pressed a nipple to his lips. He drew it in and sucked on it like a baby at feeding time. She wrapped her arms around his head and cuddled him as his mouth worked on her teat.

"That's right," she crooned, "Momma's going to take care of you after a hard day at work. Did they make you work hard today? Or did work make you hard?"

"Mmmmm." He mumbled contentedly as he switched breasts.

She pulled her breast out of his mouth and lifted his muzzle to her. "You can unburden on me, Kyroo. You can bitch about your boss or your coworkers or the lazy creeps at the head office that make your life so hard." She squeezed his cock on the word 'hard' but then she let it go so she could cup his face between both her paws. "Tell me what bothers you, let it out, let me comfort you." She leaned down and rubbed her cheek against his as she finished.

"I don't really like to talk about my work."

She let go of him and stepped back. "Well, if you don't trust me ... " she said as she turned and reached for her discarded clothing.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. "No, it's not that. I trust you, really. It's just that I'm not allowed to talk about it. Confidentiality agreements, you know?"

She resisted his attempts to settle back against her warm, furry body. "Yes, you mentioned that you were doing security work for some firm in Ottawa. The high tech sector I assume?" The mention of a firm was a deliberate mistake on her part; when they met in the bar at Dow's lake he had not said whether he was working for a private firm, a not-for profit agency or the government.

He ran with the lead she had supplied. "Yes, very high tech. You understand that I can't talk about the work they do or even who they are. Share prices could be affected."

"You don't have to tell me where you work, what they do." She replied as she leaned against him again. "But you can unburden yourself without mentioning any names." She reached for his glass and made him take a long sip before she touched it to her lips. Then she drew his head back to the nest between her boobs. "Tell momma what's bothering you so I can make it all better. He felt her paw on his deflated cock, and it twitched in response.

"I haven't been there all that long." He told her, his words somewhat muffled by the globes of flesh on each side of his snout. "I did not get recruited like the regular agents, security agents, that is. And being from the States is another point against me." He paused to lick the insides of her breasts as she stroked his cock back to life. "Things started off okay but I don't think that the big boss ever liked me. And lately folk have been acting differently toward me, not including me in their, uh, social activities." He thought of Zac and Delores going off that afternoon for a tussle in the laundry room ... without him.

"And that bothers you." she said as she pushed him back to lie on the bed. When he was prone she deftly removed his underwear and pants. His thick pink cock was pointing to the ceiling.

"Yeah, I guess it does." He admitted as she kneeled between his legs and lowered her head to his groin. "Everybody is just spinning their wheels ... ahhh yeah, that feels so good."

She lifted her head off of his cock. "Spinning their wheels? Not getting any work done?" She lowered it again, letting her moist lips slide down his shaft slowly until they came to rest at the base. When she swallowed he could feel her throat constrict around the head.

"Ye- yeah. Nothing productive anyway."

"Mmmhy shmmd yomm mmmare? Yommgh in suckmmmity."

Kyroo did not speak blow job but he figured out that she was asking why he should care since he was in security, as opposed to production he supposed. "I guess because I'm professional and I thought that I was working for a professional organization. God, that feels good. Do that again."

Ruth With Stick had been sucking and tonguing the sensitive spot at the base of his cock where the testicles began. She gave his shaft two long full-length licks before going back to that spot. "I guess the, uh, company leadership is letting everybody down." She said between nibbles. "That's usually the cause of bad morale."

Kyroo propped himself up on his elbows so that he could see what she was doing. Her ears were laid back as she concentrated on his cock. From time to time her pink lips sucked at the tight skin. When she took him into her mouth her short, tawny snout went all the way down to touch his belly and she bared dangerously large teeth to nibble at the base of his prick. Then she would lift her head to reveal his cock, still magically intact.

He let her do that for a while, enjoying the sensations, before answering her last question. "Morale is generally good at ... there, where I work. But there have been some strange things happening lately."

"Oh?" She said as her lips travelled up the outside of his cock before taking it in again. "How so?"

Kyroo thought about the attack on the couriers and the unexpected message he had received just after he checked into the hotel. Along with tonight's training being cancelled the investigation into the attack had been shelved. And when he had called in to confirm, he had been told that the regular Duty officer, his fellow American and Arctic fox, Kain Algorath, had left on vacation after what the analyst at the other end of the phone had described as an "intense" conversation with the Chief of Staff.

"We had a, uh, setback recently. At first it looked like we were going all out to, ah, rectify it, but now the boss is neglecting the work ... sending key staff on vacation ... doing nothing." It was getting hard to speak as the pressure built up in his balls.

She lifted her mouth off him and blew cool air onto his shaft. A pinch, just strong enough at just the right spot, brought his impending orgasm to a halt. She released it before his cock could wilt and then commenced slowly stroking his saliva soaked dick.

She stared at his cock, imagining Silver's face its head. He lips twitched and she bared her teeth, but resisted the urge to bite it off. "I bet that your boss is a real prick."

"That's the strange thing." He said, lying back to enjoy the steady stokes as the intensity rebuilt. "He's a great boss, even though he can be a vindictive tailhole at times. He has a fearsome reputation and his talents are legendary. He doesn't tolerate fools or the incompetent, but once you're in with him he'll teach you everything you need to know and do everything he can to see you through your miss- your career." He had almost slipped and said 'mission'. I'll have to be more careful, he told himself and he lapsed into silence.

Runs With Stick sensed his reluctance to talk, but even though he had been avoiding specifics he had already told her a lot about what was going on inside F.O.X. It seemed that Bloedrye's plan to hogtie the opposition was working although she was a little surprised that the silver fox had succumbed to the threat against his son. It did not fit the stone-cold killer image that she had built up in her mind.

"Maybe something in his personal life is affecting him?" She said as she wet her lips and prepared to bring him off, believing that she had gotten as much out of him as she could.

"That's hard for me to imagine, but the older age- employees say that for all his hard exterior he has a soft spot, deep inside. Each of them has a personal story of how he risked his life for them and now they are loyal to the core. They would all die for him, if they had too, without questioning why."

That gave her something to think about, but she would think about it later. For now she lowered her had back onto his prick and focused on sucking and stroking until she sensed that he was about to cum. She lifted her head at the last instant and aimed his cock upwards so that he shot onto his chest instead of on her fur. Then she crawled into the bed to lie beside him, hugging him with one arm and stroking his limp penis back to life with the other.

She was confused, but she was also still horny from her close call with Bloedrye and the excitement of having seduced one of Silver's agents. She decided that she deserved at least three orgasms before making her excuses to leave. And he would have to do them quickly; she didn't want Leslie waking up in the trunk.

"Drink your wine, dear." She said. "You're going to need it."

* * * * * * * *

It took them until midnight Brussels time to find Gray Muzzle where he was hiding in the NATO military hospital. As soon as they did the Military Police escorted him to the Head of Neurology. Gray, who had expected to be arrested or ejected from the facility at the very least, listened to what the young canine had to say, with doubt at first, which soon became astonishment.

"Let me get this straight." He asked incredulously. "You want me to stay in Miss CC's room from now on. You want me to, uh, do what I was doing earlier, and you want to ... what ... ?"

"Let us film you."

"You're not a friend of Joel the lemur by any chance, are you?"

* * * * * * * *

Having told the young Arctic fox that she was in education that first night at the Dow's lake bar Runs With Stick used having to prepare lessons for the next day's classes as an excuse not to stay the night with Kyroo. He had been half expecting her to leave after they had exhausted themselves in the bed anyway; their relationship had not progressed to the all night stage yet. He was just glad that it was she who brought it up, as he had been ordered not to stay away from the Academy for long anyway. She partook of the hotel shower while he took some ice from the bucket that the empty wine bottles had been in and, wrapping it in a towel, put it on his tender groin. She had certainly made him work, and now his cock ached as well as his tongue and his paws.

She left him with a lingering kiss, doubting that she would ever see him again. It would be too dangerous. After getting over the initial shock Silver could decide to set his agents searching for his son's kidnapper and Kyroo was sure to recognize her from the description. She took the pay-as-you-go phone she had bought to communicate with the F.O.X. agent and on her way through the lobby she removed its SIM card and broke it in two, depositing the pieces in separate trash cans. The phone itself she would throw down a storm sewer. She would keep the phone that Bloedrye had given her but remove the battery, only putting it back to check for messages when she was far away from her new safe houses.

She had found the houses by searching the Real Estate listings and for those that had been up for sale for a long time and which had no furniture in the interior photos. Listings that advertised "immediate occupancy" or "power of sale" were further indication at the property had no occupants. A bit of surveillance confirmed it in most cases.

Pretending to be looking for a home she arranged visits to a number of houses. She made sure that she got there before the Real Estate agent did so that she could watch as they entered the code on the lockbox that held the key to the door. A few casual questions about the market told her how likely it was that there would be more viewings in the near future. Once she had selected three suitable locations she went back and retrieved the keys and took them to a local hardware store to have copies made. Then she filed off one of the teeth on each of the originals so that if someone did come to see the house while she was there with Leslie the key would not work. By the time they got the owner to send a new one she would have moved on.

Before going to the house she had selected to use first, a bungalow on a private lot that could not be seen from the street, she drove to the Ottawa International Airport Park-and-Ride and parked her rental near the back of the lot, as close to a white windowless van as she could get.

Walking over to the van she pulled keys for it from her purse and got inside. She started it up, pulled out and parked behind the rental. Sliding open the side door she stepped out, unlocked the truck of the rental and lifted Leslie out and into a padded crate that was bolted to the floor of the van. A few seconds later the trunk was closed, the box was locked and the van was headed for the self serve exit, the ticket from when she had parked it there two weeks ago and a pre-paid credit card clutched in her paw.

She had found the van online and bought it for cash. The plates had come from a similar vehicle parked in the secured lot of a company that had gone out of business and was awaiting liquidation. Before parking it at the long term lot she had packed the van with canned food, spare clothing for her and the kit, and a selection of camping gear that she had purchased at various hardware and sporting goods stores. She had spent nearly all of her savings setting this up, but felt that it was worth it for a shot at the kit's father.

Or so she thought at the time. Now she had her doubts. Assassins that rise to a position of command do not garner the kind of loyalty that Kyroo accredited to the silver fox, they rule by fear. Could it be that she was mistaken? But Bloedrye had shown her photos, copies of official documents. Of course, there was no way to prove their authenticity.

Once she was out of the lot she pulled over and checked her messages on the phone Bloedrye had provided. There were none, as she was not due to check in until morning. She removed the battery and put the phone on a copper case that would block any signals in or out, just in case Bloedrye had inserted some sort of device to track her movements. She would not put it past him. Once he realized that she had gone on her own he would be furious. He would send his goons out to track her down, but only if he had bodies to spare, which she doubted. Otherwise he would have simply taken the kit back at the farmhouse and used them to watch over him. She believed that she was safe enough for now.

The safe house she had chosen was a thirty minute drive from the airport and Leslie was stirring by the time she parked behind the house. It was a former meth lab that looked fine from the outside, but which would need hundreds of thousands of dollars in repairs and renovations before it could be certified safe for occupancy. The bank that held the lien was still holding out for what a home in good repair would go for, so there was no danger of it being sold anytime in the near future, and a near future was the only kind of future that Runs With Stick could hope for at this point.

The power had been cut off at the street for safety as the former occupants had made a number of unauthorized alterations to the electrical system to suit their illegal activities. That was no problem, however, as she had no intention of using the lights or anything else that would give away their presence. The house was on municipal water so they would have plenty to drink, and toilets. There were probably enough chemicals in the structure to seriously harm one over time, but they would not be staying long enough to absorb a significant amount, she hoped.

Leslie was fully awake by the time she had taken what equipment they needed from the van. He was tied and muzzled and he did not try to wriggle free so she had no problem lifting him from the box and carrying him down to the house's basement. When she had secured him to a pipe with a chain and padlock she went back up, parked the van on the next street and cut through the hedge to get back to the house without being seen.

She had brought thick material and tape to cover the windows of the basement room in the back corner of the house. She sealed them before lighting a naphtha lantern and stove. She put a pot of water on to boil and then turned to the kit.

"What is this place?" Leslie asked as soon as she removed the muzzle. "It smells funny."

"Just an abandoned house. We're going to play camping here in the basement."

"Camping? That sounds like fun. Daddy took us camping last year. But we camped in the woods, in a tent. We went fishing too. We caught four and we ate them for supper."

"We will have fun, as long as you cooperate, but I'm afraid that there is no fishing allowed here." She indicated a pile of cans beside the stove. "But we have beans and wieners, beans without wieners, beef stew, Irish stew, chicken noodle soup and corned beef hash. What do you want for supper?"

"Beans and wieners, please."

She choose corned beef hash and pierced the cans before setting them in an inch of boiling water. She put the lid on so that the heat would build up quicker without losing a lot of liquid to evaporation. Then she undid the restraints that bound the kit's wrists and ankles.

"Thank you." He said as he rubbed his arms and moved his legs to get the stiffness out of them.

"Do you have to go to the washroom?"

"Yes, please." She led him to a door which concealed a two-piece bathroom. There was no window and no other way out. He paused just inside, looking back at her and then at the door, and finally back to her again. She decided to give him his privacy.

"Thank you." He said as she closed the door behind him.

Again with the please and thank you, she thought. These Canadians are polite to a fault, or is it just that he was raised right? She recalled how her mother, Shining Moon Star, had once told her that disagreement was no excuse for rudeness. She had laughed because at the time they were dismembering the corpse of a biker that had tried to extort money from the truck stop they ran. Runs With Stick had said something nasty about the way the fat old wolf was crying like a baby just before she slit its throat. She pointed out that the biker had been none too polite himself before they had surprised him with their cleavers.

"That's no excuse for descending to their level." Mother had replied.

Runs With Stick had refrained from insulting defeated enemies after that, but she did allow herself the occasional witticism. She wondered if the kit had acquired its politeness from society or whether his father had beaten it into him. When he came out, pronouncing that he had flushed, she chained him back to the pipe but left his paws and feet free.

She served him his food on a paper plate and gave him a plastic spoon to eat it with. She ate her own right out of the can, wrapping a bit of cloth around it so as not to burn her paw. The kit ate quickly, as he had not eaten since breakfast, and Runs With Stick did also, for the same reason.

"Do you miss your parents?" She asked as he finished off the last of the beans and sauce.

"Yes." He said without hesitation. "Especially my mommy, because she likes to cuddle."

Memories of her own mother almost brought a tear to her eye, but she blinked it back. "Your father is not much of a cuddler, I guess. Probably too busy with work for much else ether."

Leslie looked up and left as he thought about his father. "Well, he prefers to hug. Sometimes he spins me too when we hug, and that's fun, but it doesn't last as long as cuddling. He does work at home a lot, but we still have our 'together time'."

"Together time?"

"Every night before bed, if he is not out of town, he gives me my bath and shows me science experiments. Like how to get water to go up a tube or how to keep it from coming out of a bottle with a narrow neck. Then he dries me off and after I get in my pyjamas he reads me a story, or makes one up. He knows a lot of stories, more than mommy. And he does all the voices for them, and they all sound different. Mommy tries but her voices all sound like mommy."

Runs With Stick did not want to hear about the domestic bliss Silver's family apparently lived in. "Well, lucky you," she told the kit, "no bath tonight. And no stories either." He looked disappointed.

"Camping with you is not as much fun as with mommy and daddy."

After taking him to the bathroom one last time she gave him enough chain so he could lie down comfortably. She had bought a child-sized self inflating bed roll and she laid a similar sized sleeping bag on it and pushed it over to him. He took off his shirt and pants and socks but kept his underwear on before slipping inside the bag. She set herself up in a similar fashion on the far side of the room, out of reach in case some of his father's ruthlessness had rubbed off on him. She turned off the lantern but left a small battery powered night light on so she could see if anything woke her in the sealed room.

"Goodnight, Missus Pawstone."

"Uh, goodnight ... Leslie."

Runs With Stick was worried that the kit would have to cry itself to sleep, but she was reminded of how resilient children could be when she heard soft snores coming from his sleeping bag two minutes later.

It took her considerably longer to fall asleep.

* * * * * * * *

Runs With Stick found herself hiking alone in a familiar canyon near the home she had shared with her mate, Silver Two Trees, but there was something wrong with the landscape. Landmarks were in the wrong place, and there were old stunted trees where none had existed before. But the trail was well worn and easy to follow, so she stayed on the path, moving forward although she was not sure where she was going.

Confusion grew the farther she went. That column of weathered rock should be on the other side of the canyon, she told herself, and that kind of cactus should not have purple flowers. Gravity seemed to be mixed up too. Often she felt like she was going uphill when she was on a downward slope, and vice versa. She wondered if she took off her foot bone necklace, which she just realized she was wearing, and let it go if it would drop to the ground or float up and away. She was afraid to try, in case she lost it.

Clutching the necklace she continued, calling on Mother Earth to protect her and for the Sun, which appeared to be setting in the east for some strange reason, to guide her.

Up ahead there was a sharp bend in the trail. She approached it cautiously, as a snake might be sunning itself in the last rays of the sun round the corner and she was barefoot, another odd thing. She would never venture out into the canyons barefoot. There were too many sharp rocks and poisonous snakes, spiders and scorpions. Besides, her tribe, the Cuni, had a phobia about keeping their feet safe. She should be wearing her thick leather cowboy boots. One of the few useful things the invading species had thought up, as far as she was concerned.

She was surprised to find someone leaning against the wall of the canyon just around the corner, and even more surprised to see that it was her mate, Silver Two Trees. Not because he was dead, but because she had anointed his cheeks and lips with indamo powder and made sure that he was intact before she had allowed them to take him off life support. Like her, Silver Two Trees had lived an honest and righteous life. Surely Death would not have rejected his spirit and cursed him to wander the earth like a .... a ghost. Maybe it was a demon sent to fool her. She would have to be careful.

"Good evening my love." The apparition said when she stopped out of reach. "Why do you hesitate?"

"I'm not sure who you are, or what you are, or why you are here."

He pushed off from the rock face and gave her one of those lazy smiles that made her fall in love with him in the first place. If a demon could smile like that she would take it to her bed, no matter who it looked like.

"I am who I seem to be." he said. "I am the spirit of your husband. I am visiting you in your dreams, and I am here because you asked the Sun for guidance."

Dreaming, she mused. But why would the Sun send her mate's spirit back to talk to her? She asked for its guidance every day at dawn and dusk, and while in considerably worse circumstances than now, but the Sun had never sent a spirit to her before. Maybe Silver Two Trees had an issue to settle with her.

"Are you upset that I have taken a lover?" She asked her mate.

He smiled that smile again. "No, I'm not mad. I'm beyond that kind of thing now and beyond jealousy, but I remember how strong the urges can be, and how sweet the release that it brings. You were faithful to me in life, and your heart is faithful still." He winked, another of his mannerisms. "I can tell."

He approached and took her by the arm. She allowed it. It felt as real as it had when he was alive and well. It was her own appendage that felt strange.

"Let's walk." He said, and turned back the way she had come.

She resisted. "I was going in the other direction." She explained. "Although I hardly know where we are, the terrain has changed so."

"That is because you have strayed off the true path. You took a wrong turn a while ago. Now you have to go back to the beginning and start over."

Runs With Stick released his arm and stubbornly headed down the trail in the same direction as before.

Silver Two Trees did not follow. "You should not go that way, my love. That way leads to death, death of the spirit."

She shuddered as if caught in a sudden chill. The Cuni had a saying, "Death is always nearby, but there is no need to run to him". She brushed her paw across her face and examined it in the dying light. She saw none of the blue powder. She searched the pocked of her jeans for the small vial of indamo that she always kept on her, but could not find it. Looking down she was relieved to find that she still had both feet at least. Without the powder she might not be able to see Death as clearly as she could, or speak to Death as honestly as she should, but was that enough reason for Death to reject her spirit, to erase it from existence? She plunged recklessly on.

The trail switched back the other way. An older female bunny in Cuni dress was squatting by the curve. Runs With Stick kept walking, intending to ignore it. When she was a dozen paces away the figure stood up, and Runs With Stick recognized it as Shining Moon Star, her mother, who was also dead. She jerked to a halt as the spirit raised a paw to block her path.

"Daughter, child of my loins. You must turn from this path. If you continue you imperil your immortal spirit."

Runs with Stick pushed past her and ran heedlessly down the trail. She was not surprised to find a third figure waiting for her at the next bend, but was saddened to discover that it was her father. He had been alive when she left for Canada.

"Father, have you died too?" She asked through teary eyes.

"No, but part of me died at Wounded Knee, the part that remembers you as a little girl. That is the part you see now. But my spirit is incomplete. Part of my spirit stayed behind with my body, accumulating new memories. One day, not soon but not too far in the future either, we'll be reunited. Until then my spirit is weak, and it is hard for me to stay in this place. I have to hurry back."

"Oh father!" She exclaimed, taking the apparition by the paws. "I don't want you to go. Not from here, not from the earth. Is there no way to reunite your spirit while your body lives?"

Running Blue Water shook his head sadly. "That cannot be. But we do not need to part just yet. Do you trust me?" He asked, rubbing her cheek with his thumb just as he had when she was a young doe.

Fighting back tears she nodded her head yes.

"Then come with me."

He took her by the paw and led her back uphill, in the direction she had come from, just as the last of the sun's light faded from the sky. Although the sky had been clear a moment ago she could not see a thing, not the moon, not the stars, not the trail at their feet. But she could feel the world around her changing as they went. After a dozen steps the trail flattened out and became smooth, like the earthen floors in the home she grew up in, and the air changed from the sweet smell of the open desert to the rich odours of a Cuni kitchen. She herself was changing, growing shorter, smaller and slimmer. Her breasts lifted and then shrank. The cellulose melted from her thighs and rear, soon followed by the muscle. Her hearing sharpened and her sense of smell improved. She was sure that if she could see she would find that her eyesight had returned to what it was when she was a child, strong and clear and still able to see the beauty in everything.

Light returned. Not the honest light of the sun or the tricky light of her sister the moon, but the warm light of oil lamps and open fires. She discovered that she was indeed in a kitchen, her kitchen, or rather, the kitchen of her home when she was still a child. All the familiar sounds and the smells were there. She looked around. Her father's spirit had not changed, but she was now a young doe, dressed in the kind of clothes she favoured before becoming an adult and becoming interested in males. She heard someone crying in the next room, and recognized her mother in those sobs.

"Do you remember this night?" Her father asked her.

"No."

"It is the night I left for Wounded Knee. Your mother was crying because she did not want me to go."

She remembered how the sound of her mother crying that night had made her afraid. It was the last time that Runs With Stick could remember feeling afraid.

Her father sat down at the kitchen table and turned to face her, holding both of her paws in his as he had that night. "Do you remember what you asked me when we came in the kitchen to say goodbye?"

As if reliving that moment she said the words that she had forgotten many years ago. "Is it dangerous where you are going, daddy?"

"Everything is dangerous." He answered her as he had back then. "But we can't sit in our houses fearing the great world outside, we have to go out and face it, especially if we want to make it better."

She continued to relive the conversation. "What if something bad happens?"

"Then something bad happens. As long as you are strong, wise and honest then the bad things will not be your fault, and you will face death with a clean spirit. And if you survive, you will be wiser and stronger and will be better able to resist the temptation to wallow in sorrow or revenge. You will simply get on with life, without looking back, without regrets, and without remorse. If my brothers and I don't come back from where we are going I will still not regret going, and neither should you. Promise me that you won't."

Runs With Stick cried silently the way she now remembered that she had cried that night. She had not answered her father then, because she could not speak without breaking into sobs and his ride had arrived before she could get them under control. But now time seemed to stand still, and she was able to give him the answer that she should have all those years ago.

"I pr- promise." She managed. "I won't."

Her father went off script then, but she knew that it was what he would have said if their conversation had progressed beyond her crying. "Your mother will be introducing you to the tools of a guardian of the Cuni soon. But they are only to be used for the protection of the tribe, against active threats, not as an instrument of revenge. Do you understand me?"

"Y- yes father."

Outside a car horn sounded. His ride had arrived. "Then you know what you have to do." He said as he stood up. Behind him the light of the lamp and the fire began to fade.

"Wait father, don't go." She pleaded.

"I have to go now." He said as he too faded into the blackness. "My time here is done."

Fresh tears flooded her eyes, and she would have called his name but her throat was choked with sobs. But just before everything went black she heard his voice like a whisper on the wind: "Remember."

* * * * * * * *

Runs With Stick sat straight up in shock. She was in a strange room, a dark room, where everything was black except for a fiery hallow around a ghostly disembodied head with glowing grey-blue eyes. Another specter, a malevolent one, she thought, as her paw searched the floor desperately for her cleaver, as if that would help against a demon. Before she could find it the creature opened its maw and spoke.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

She froze. Latent tears drained from her eyes and she was able to make out Leslie, his head silhouetted by the night light behind him, his vibrant red fur seemingly on fire, his pale eyes picking up the ambient light and reflecting it back at her.

"I need to go to the bathroom." He repeated.

She shook her had to clear it. "Uh, yeah. Just give me a second to light the lantern."

She fumbled for the matches with shaky paws as vivid memories of the night her father had left them mixed with the dream whirled though her head. Did he really say those things, or would he have if given the chance? Was she on the wrong path? And if so, how could she get back on the proper road? She wished that her father would visit her again, so she could discuss it with him, but she knew that he would not; this type of thing happened only once, and then it was up to you to make what you would of it. But for the first time since that night in the seventies she knew real fear again, fear of failing, fear of letting him down.

It took her four tries to get the lantern lit, and three to unlock the chains holding Leslie. He only just made it to the bathroom on time.

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Book VII - Rogue Sword

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Gray Muzzle © Gray Muzzle

Ruth Pawstone/Runs With Stick © Bunners