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Sheep-Dog

Chapter 7 – Out of the Frying Pan …

After the tribunal concluded Dan escorted Bobby went straight to his room in the barracks to pack up his meagre belongings.

“Remember,” the Doberman said as he marched the Collie to the front gates in full view of the staff, students and the other guards, “circle around and meet me on the other side of the wall where the old oak hangs over it. I’ll bring Barbara and everything you will need to travel.”

“How are you going to pay for all that?”

“With the funds your woolly bed toy can draw from her family account.”

“And how much are you going to skim off for the privilege of helping us?”

Dan shrugged. “Just the usual ten percent … plus ten for the Commander if he catches on and five for his Secretary to ‘lose’ any paperwork that reports sightings of you two, so that’s ... five carry the two ... forty percent.”

“That only adds up to twenty-five!”

“The other fifteen is to cover the cost of sending the decoys out in the other direction.”

“Whatever. I’m sure that her flock won’t miss it.”

“Oh, they’ll miss it, and anguish over every penny, but not until you two are long gone. Here’s the gate, I have to make this look good, no hard feelings.”

Bobby began to say, “Make what look good?” but before he was finished Dan had planted a foot firmly in his backside and shoved him through the gate to sprawl on the road.

“And keep out, you filthy traitor.” Dan shouted for the benefit of the sheep that were watching from a safe distance. “And don’t forget, by the wall at dusk.” he added under his breath as Bobby picked himself up.

Bobby headed south along the road that ran along the front of the Bayfield School until the last bit of the perimeter wall disappeared behind a hill. There he turned west and wend cross-country, angling back toward the school until he could just see the wall. When it curved back north he turned that way also, keeping his distance until he could see the big oak. It was barely noon so he made himself comfortable and took a nap, vowing to wake before the sun went down.

His internal alarm clock woke him when the sun was still a finger-width above the horizon. Seeing no activity around the wall near the oak he made his way closer, keeping under cover in case Dan had double crossed him and was laying in wait with a posse of the Watch’s finest. He reached the wall without incident, however, and even ventured a peek over it to find the vegetable gardens deserted. He sat on the rough steps that the wolves had built on the far side and waited for dusk.

After the last sliver of the sun had disappeared, he heard a rustling in the oak on the other side of the wall. He retreated a few paces into the underbrush to see who was coming over. To his relief it was Barbara, with Dan close behind her. The Doberman was lugging a travel case.

Barbara jumped down from the tree onto the wall and used the stairs to descend. Bobby emerged from the bushes to greet her and they came together naturally, embracing in a deep kiss.

“Save it for the trip.” Dan called from above them and Bobby looked up just in time to see the travel case hurdling down toward them. He broke off the embrace, stepped around Barbara and caught it adroitly. Barbara gave an appreciative ‘baaa’ and even Dan looked impressed.

Bobby lowered the case to the ground as Dan joined them on the far side of the wall. From his shirt he pulled a cloth bag with a sheath of papers in it.

“These are your new identities.” Dan said as he passed the satchel over. “Barbara is now a member of the Oxford flock named Victoria. I couldn’t do much about changing your breed, Bobby, so you’re still a Collie, but now you are a cross-breed named Luther.”

Bobby examined the papers in the fading light. The Oxford were a smaller, less influential flock than the Dorset but a wealthy one. They were also very similar in appearance to the Dorset. on average they were somewhat larger so to account for her slimness the papers claimed that she was a lamb several years younger than Barbara actually was - a minor - and as a minor she would only travel with a relative or under the watchful eye of a trusted family servant.

The reason for travel given in the papers was that the lamb was to be married to a Dorset elder who had requested that she come and live with his flock until she was of age, a common practice when introducing new bloodlines. It is also a way for rams that prefer ewes on the young side and who do not have access to places like Suzy’s Layer Cake to get access to underaged lambs without fear of reprisal. His other wives would not mind having his attention diverted and the lamb would have no friends or relatives to defend her.

“Clever.” Bobby conceded.

“Yes, but it needs one more thing before you can pull it off.”

“Oh?” Bobby said, looking up. “What’s that?”

Dan raised a paw and pointed at Bobby’s left eye with a digit tipped by a sharp claw. “This.”

Before Bobby could react, Dan drove his claw into Bobby’s eye. There was an explosion of pain and then blackness as both eyes slammed shut.

Bobby clutched his injured eye. “Yowch! What the hell did you do that for?”

“Stop crying you puppy. Uncover your eye and let me take a look.”

Bobby did as he was asked, aware that the pain was already fading.

“Oh, Bobby!” Barbara exclaimed. “Your eye is all red!”

“Yep.” Dan nodded at a job well done. “All the white is gone red from a burst blood vessel. It looks bad but it’s harmless. It will clear up in a week or so. Meanwhile you will look like the tough dog you will need to portray if you expect to bullshit your way halfway across the country and over the border.”

“Gee, Dan.” Bobby winced when he tried to blink. “Thanks.”

“I know that you want to smack me but take a few punches at the wall instead to bloody your knuckles.” Dan suggested. “The sheep at the way-stations will be less likely to challenge you if it looks like you get into fights regularly.”

“Okay, enough fun for now. Listen, here is what I have arranged for you two.” Dan detailed the travel arrangements that he had made using the funds Barbara had access to. It involved walking to a town south-west of Ariesborough and catching a coach north. When he was sure that Bobby and Barbara could find the right station to begin their journey the big Doberman left them.

There was plenary of time and the full moon was just rising so Bobby used the last of the daylight to examine the contents of the travel case. There were clothes suitable for a young lamb of ‘Victoria’s’ stature and some food stuffs they could eat in an emergency. There was even a small supply of cash in case they had to make any purchases or bribe a minor official or two along the way. Dan had even included a club that ‘Luther’ could carry to protect his charge. There was also a sheath knife that Bobby slid onto his belt before they set off on the first leg of their escape.

On his trip down from the Borderlands Bobby had stayed in the outdoor camps and barns set aside for non-ovine travellers, but not all of the canines on the coaches stayed there. Some sheep were so paranoid of strangers that they insisted that their dogs be allowed to sleep outside the doors to their rooms. Ironically, the same sheep also demanded that no dogs from other flocks be allowed to clutter up the hallways. In order to accommodate them the Inn Keepers renovated their establishments so that many of the premium rooms had antechambers - small rooms just large enough for a dog to lay down in - leading to the suite where their ovine masters slept.

The itinerary Dan had hastily put together included vouchers for such rooms. The arrangement would allow them to be intimate during the trip, provided they kept the noise down.

Catching the first coach proved to be no problem. There was no guard presence at the small-town station Dan had picked and Bobby’s rough appearance was enough to deter any questions. Bobby had not only taken Dan's advice to rough up his knuckles but had taken to squinting his good eye while keeping the damaged one open as wide was possible. Barbara said that it gave him a crazed look. That and his fine physique kept the larger dogs from saying anything to him least the crazed Collie take it as offensive. Even the horses made wide detours around him during their rest stops.

Bobby was sure to give the Inn Keeper at the station they stopped for the night at the full effect of his red eye and scab encrusted paws. He stood behind Barbara and glared at anyone who came near as she signed them in. She gave the tale of her imposed residence on the farm of her husband-to-be until she came of age in a voice loud enough to be overheard. Since the name of the ram they were using was famous for his preference for lambs of a certain age the rams in the lobby snickered and winked at each other behind her back when they heard. Bobby thought that they should be ashamed for not stepping in to prevent what was in fact an illegal act, but nothing that the rams did could really surprise him anymore.

To add to the theatre in their bold dash for freedom, each night ‘Victoria’ gave the Landlord a large brass key, the kind that might be used to unlock a chastity belt - something she hinted at when passing it over. It was actually the key to the rear guard post that Bobby had forgotten was in his pocket when he was dragged away to face the tribunal, but by giving it to the proprietor for safekeeping it made it seem that there could be no possibility of her canine servant taking advantage of his young charge.

It worked like a charm for the first few nights. Bobby could hear the Landlords and their regular customers laughing about it when Barbara was out of earshot. They did not care if he was around to hear because his feelings about the matter obviously did not count.

“No sense making a play for that bit of tender lamb.” The first Inn Keeper jokingly advised a ram who looked keenly interested in what he thought was a lamb not yet of age. “With that vicious cur outside her door and the key to the heavenly gates in my safe you’d be bit before she’d be split.”

The look of regret on the pedophile’s face was enough to reassure Bobby that their nights would be undisturbed.

Each night Bobby would lock the outer door of the antechamber and wait by it until the sounds of the inn had died down. Barbara, who made a loud show of locking the inner door, would be listening also, and would silently unlock the door between them as soon as it was safe.

Bobby would slip inside and their lips would be pressed together before either could think. Then there would be a flurry of questing paws and hands as their tongues engaged inside their sealed mouths. Without more than a sigh clothes would tumble to the floor and they would fall onto the bed. There she would stroke him, but only for a minute, and he would rub her already damp mound until it was open and wet. Then with little more than a gasp he would slide his cock inside and they would rock together until one or both had to fill their mouth with a pillow or a corner of the duvet to keep from screaming their passion to the night.

After the initial encounter they would hold each other tight and whisper about how life was going to be once they were free from Pastoria while they kissed and licked each other lightly. Their fantasies ran wild, but throughout them they professed their love. Gradually words diminished and kisses increased. Each night for the second act they resolved to try something different, and it became a challenge to stay quiet while the they found new ways to impart pleasure on each other.

On the first night Bobby entered her while holding his body straight above her prone form, no part of him touching her except for his cock. Then he slid it in and out so slowly that the pleasure was agonizing, for him as well as her. He did not speed up until she came around his shaft in a wiggling mass of ecstasy, and even then he did not touch more than his knot against her. His arms and legs were burning by the time he started popping that knot in and out of her distended twat, but he made her cum again before his own release.

The second night she wiggled away before he could trap her and took up station between his legs. With the lamp behind her highlighting the sheer curves of her wool-less frame she teased his cock with her lips and her fingers, never taking it in or stroking it fully, just sliding wet lips around the tip or squeezing the shaft with to digits. She kept it up until he shot a steam of white sponge into the air in front of her face and then she plunged her head down on his quivering shaft and drank up the next few shots. She finished by licking him clean before laying back it’s her legs spread and inviting him to do better.

The third night was their first experiment with anal sex. The room’s previous occupant had left a half-full bottle of brandy under the bed, which they shared. Being unused to such sweet, potent liquor they were both a bit tipsy and daring. Bobby had been repeating his performance of their first night when she suggested that he might want to do more than stick a digit in there. He obliged, feinting reluctance but secretly excited by the prospect. The experiment was a success on both their parts. He could only marvel at the tightness of her tail hole around his cock and she was lost in the exotic pleasure and increased sensitivity of the ring of flesh as it was stretched by his thick, slick, hot shaft. He came first that time, but thanks to his persistent knot he was able to keep going until she joined him a minute later.

Their extended sessions left them exhausted, and each night they fell asleep in each other’s arms until his internal clock woke them in time to wash up before the call for breakfast sounded.

But the fourth night was different.

They had travelled far to the north and were getting close to the Borderlands that the Dorset controlled, close enough that they might well run into someone who knew the ram whose name they were using as an excuse. To avoid that possibility they had switched to using the name of a senior ram in the Lleyn flock, a breed of all-white sheep that lived in the northwest corner of Pastoria. That flock was neither large nor wealthy and their lands were under constant threat from the territories, so Bobby and Barbara claimed that they were heading north into Dorset lands before turning west, for security’s sake.

The inn they were staying in that night was the roughest they had encountered thus far, and they were lucky to get a room with an antechamber. The Landlord laughed when she passed the brass key over, holding it up and shouting to the drinkers in the tavern that served as the Inn’s dining room, “Hey lads, what will you give me for this, eh?”

One glance at the crowd of drunken lechers in the tavern convinced Barbara to request that their food be sent to their room. The Landlord scoffed at her tender sensibilities but after gazing intently at her for a moment he agreed, adding a little extra to the cost, “For me troubles.”

Bobby remained in the antechamber until the food arrived. His was a shapeless mass of gruel on a tin plate with no meat in it whatsoever. Hers was slightly better and was served on a fine porcelain dish but still consisted of all vegetable matter. After the Landlord backed out of the room Bobby secured the outer door, picked up his plate and joined Barbara in the main room.

She shared her meal with him and insisted that she sample his, “Just to see how bad they treat canines in these parts.” She said. To her surprise she found the mess of porridge quite good.

“I don’t usually favour meals made with oats and other grains,” she confessed, “but this has something different in it, something spicy.”

Bobby sniffed it and agreed that there was something unusual in there, but he couldn’t identify it. Whatever it was turned his stomach, so he did not try any. Barbara ended up eating most of it.

After supper Bobby took the dishes back to the Landlord and resumed his station in the antechamber until the boisterous crowd in the tavern broke up. As usual the inner door was unlocked so he slipped silently inside, expecting Barbara to rush into his arms by lamplight as she had each night previously. But she did not come to him, and the lamp was not even lit.

He could hear her soft breathing, so he felt his way across the room and lit the bedside lamp. By its light he could see that she was fast asleep atop the duvet, still wearing her travelling clothes. She looked so sweet and innocent that he had to smile, and he hesitated to wake her. But he knew that she cherished their time together, even when they spent it just cuddling and whispering, so he shook her shoulder to rouse her.

The gentle shake did not revive her so he shook her harder. She slept on. Bobby was getting worried and he sat her up in the bed, calling her name in her ear and tapping the side of her face with his paw. It did not work either, and as soon as he released her she slumped back down on the bed.

He leaned over and sniffed at her breath, having heard that some diseases that put sheep into a coma had a foul odour, but her breath was sweet; sweet and spicy, like the mysterious ingredient in Bobby’s dinner.

His senses were on high alert now, which was why he was able to hear someone moving in the corridor outside their room. Abandoning the comatose Barbara, Bobby rushed back to the antechamber and closed the inner door as quietly as he could. he threw himself on the ground in a sleep position just as he heard a key turning in the lock of the outer door.

Bobby recognized the odour of the Landlord before the door was open wide enough for him to slip his greasy fingers around the edge. Those fingers smelled of the same stuff that had been in the gruel, and Bobby’s fur stood up on his hackles instinctively, sensing danger. His brain was not far behind, realizing that the Inn Keeper had planned to drug him and take advantage of what appeared to be an underage lamb while her guardian was unconscious.

Bobby waited until the door was halfway open before he leapt up with a snarl.

“Who goes there?” He barked, and he did not have to pretend to be vicious this time. He grabbed the intruder by the shirtfront, pulled him into the antechamber and drove him up against the wall with such ferocity that he almost scared himself.

There was enough light from the corridor to positively identify the Landlord, and enough urine soaking his crotch to show how startled he was to find a fully alert guard dog there.

“Wha- ... why aren’t you ... I mean, how dare you place your paws on me. Release me this instant.”

Bobby complied, but remained standing a hair’s breadth from the ram, his nostrils flared in anger and his red eye ablaze. “It is my job to protect my master’s daughter until she is in the safekeeping of her future husband’s flock, and I’ll put my paws on anyone who threatens that safety ... or her virtue.”

“Virtue? You have me all wrong. I was nearly doing a ... door check ... yes, a door check, and this one seemed ajar, so I thought that it was best to ... check it.”

“Really? Well, you’ve checked it. Both the outer and the inner door were both locked securely and properly. I saw to that.” Bobby shifted toward the unlocked inner door to block it in case the Landlord tried to brazen it out by trying that one too. Instead the Landlord took the now open path through the outer door to safety.

“Very good. Good, uh, boy. It’s good to see that you are so, uh, diligent. Only the best for our, uh guests.” The Landlord squinted at Bobby. “How did you, uh, like your supper, by the way? Find it sufficient?”

“It was very filling,” Bobby lied with a smile, “but it gave me a horrible case of gas. What was in it?”

“Oh, just some local, uh, spices. Old, expired ones evidently. Well, goodnight dog. I have to go, uh, finish the door check.”

The Landlord turned to go and Bobby saw the brass key sticking out of his back pocket. His paw shot out and grabbed it before the ram could close the door.

“Whoops! Almost dropped this.” He waggled the incriminating key in the air between them. “Wouldn’t want one of the guests, or anyone else, finding this and trying to sneak past me, would we? Maybe it’s best that I keep hold off it tonight, don’t you think?”

Bobby would remember the sour, angry but beaten expression on the Landlord’s face when he realized that he had been outfoxed by a dog for the rest of his life.

They left the Inn early the next morning, without eating. Barbara thought that she had fallen asleep out of exhaustion from the trip and their late-night activities. Bobby thought it best not to disillusion her until they were well away from the Landlord.

The fifth day they entered Dorset lands, but far to the west of either Bobby’s or Barbara’s home farms. Here it was not so unusual to see a young ewe in the company of a Border Collie so after one last night in an inn they bought some supplies and left the coaches behind.

“We walk from here on in.” Bobby explained. “We’ll have to be careful not to act suspicion in case we come upon some sheep unexpectedly. If anyone stops us you have been visiting your cousin, Olivia. There are a thousand Olivia’s here in the Borderlands. You overstayed your time and I was sent to fetch you. We’ll leave the road and make camp long before dark so that we don’t get invited to spend the night anywhere where they can ply us with questions we cannot answer.”

“A night under the stars with you.” She said hugging his arm. “It sounds romantic.”

“The next sound will be the skin being flailed from by back if anyone sees you holding me like this.”

Barbara dropped her head and took a step back. “Bobby, I’m ... I’m sorry, I don’t want to bring any harm to you.”

“I know.” He whispered, looking around to make sure the coast was clear before rubbing her cheek tenderly. “And don’t look so sad. You’re to play an empty-headed lamb being brought home by the family dog, but you can still enjoy the day, and even try to make the grumpy old mutt laugh along the way. Just remember to act aloof when other sheep are around.”

“Gottcha”

The day passed pleasantly. What few creatures they passed on the road hardly gave them more than a nod, so common was the sight of those two particular breeds in this area. When the sun started its descent Bobby guided her off the road to a meadow by a stream where he built the kind of shelter his fellow shepherds used when they were out searching for lost sheep overnight. Then he taught her how to fish with the gear he had purchased in the last town. They ended the day laughing and cooking fish on sticks over a small fire and making love under the moon on the grass by the stream.

“Let’s stay here forever.” She whispered in his ear as they lay entwined under the stars.

“Not here, but someplace just like it not too far from here.” He promised.

They made good progress the next day and Bobby could tell that they were getting close to the Border by the way the land was cleared and the fortifications that stood empty and ready should the army need to increase their presence here.

“Why doesn’t the army stay here all the time?” Barbara asked as they camped in front of an empty earthen observation post.

“There aren’t enough of them to occupy all of the forts and outposts. After the revolution there was a big army for a while, in case the wolves counter attacked, but when the raids got smaller and smaller they sent most of the dogs back to their home farms, to be called up when needed.”

“Do they still do it that way?”

“Yes. Every species has to answer when called. The dogs become soldiers, and all of us receive military training when we’re growing up so we can fit into the ranks quickly. It also comes in handy when wolves try to raid the farm. We operate under our own leaders on the farm but when the army is formed all the officers are rams, something they are supposed to train for, but few do. Usually they just turn to the senior dog and tell them what they want done. They have a few all-sheep battalions, but I’ve heard that they spend more time parading and drinking afterwards than training.”

“They don’t let us ewes join the army. Do they let your females fight?”

“Yes, but they also act as nurses, stretcher bearers and messengers.”

“What do the other species do?”

“Cats and pigs do much the same work as they do on the farms, keeping the camps clean and healthy. Horses are needed to haul supplies and build the heavy fortifications. A few also stay back to build the internment camps.”

“Intermittent camps?”

“No, silly. Internment camps. For any enemy that surrender and non-citizens, to be kept for the duration of the conflict. Canine units rotating out from the front do guard duty there until they are rested enough to move forward again.”

“What kind of animals are non-citizens?”

“Well, anyone that was not born in Pastoria. Foreigners whose loyalty is questionable, and foxes of course.”

“Why foxes? Don’t they live in Pastoria?”

“Not all the time. They travel between Pastoria and the neighbouring lands, even between here and the Territories. They are nomads, trading goods they bring in, repairing tools and pots, selling trinkets they make and providing, uh, various forms of entertainment.”

“And for that they get locked up?”

“Sure, what else should we do?”

“Leave them alone for one thing.”

“You don’t understand. They have no loyalty to Pastoria; they’re only motivated by profit. We pay them for information about the wolves and the wolves probably pay them to spy on us too. Locking them up keeps them from helping the wolves, even indirectly.”

“It seems to me like no one has ever given them a chance to become citizens. Has anyone ever tried asking them to join us?”

“Uh ... I don’t know.”

“I can answer that.”

Bobby’s head swung to the direction the strange voice had come from and his paw dropped to the knife at his belt.

A red fox emerged from a bush several paces away. It was dressed in green and brown in a way that blended in well with the foliage and it carried nothing more than a staff and a satchel hung over one shoulder.

“The name’s Renny.” the fox said as it squatted down on the far side of the fire Bobby had built outside the observation post. “No need to introduce yourselves, I’ve been here long enough to know that you are Bobby and she is Barbara and that you two are running away to the Territories.”

Bobby was thankful that he had turned down Barbara’s suggestion that they make love on the grass before setting up camp and by the blush showing through her sparse facial wool she was too.

Bobby kept his paw on the hilt of his knife. “You’ve been sneaking about for a while then?”

The fox looked offended. “I’ve been evaluating the situation. I almost left without showing myself but the young lady’s insight toward the plight of us ‘non-citizens’ moved me.” The fox turned to face Barbara. “As for your question; no, no one has ever asked us to be citizens of Pastoria, or to fight for it against the tyrants that used to run this land. No one cares much about us foxes at all.” he looked back to Bobby. “Even the species that are just as oppressed as us, possibly more so.”

Bobby felt ashamed to be thinking of the fox the same way the rams that rules Pastoria thought of him.

“Sorry, I guess it’s so ingrained in us that some species are inferior that it’s hard to think otherwise.”

“You should try thinking more.”

Bobby winced. “Okay, I deserved that. But now that I am thinking I wonder what it was that Barbara’s words moved you to do, other than to grace us with your presence that is.”

The fox laughed. “I can see why she likes you. Well, now that you ask, I came out to offer my services as a guide. I know all the secret ways into the territories and how to avoid the patrols on both sides of the border.”

Barbara clapped her hands. “You would do that? For us?”

“Well, not for free. I mean, I like you, if not your dog friend, but a fox has to make a living, eh? Guiding smugglers, wolves and folk like you escaping Pastoria is what I do for a living.”

Bobby calculated how much coin they had left and how much they would likely need to get themselves set up on the other side.

“How much?”

The fox named a price. Having watched his father haggle with the foxes that came to trade Bobby countered with half that amount. The fox replied with a figure slightly lower than his first one.

Bobby’s patience was wearing out. “Thirty copper coins, and that is my last offer. Your services will help, for sure, but I can get us across on our own, eventually.” He squinted at the fox. “Unless you intend to tip off the patrols?”

Renny’s look of offence was more feigned this time. “Perish the thought. Alright, thirty coppers to see you two across safely.” He spit on his paw and held it out.

“We’ll come to no harm?”

“Guaranteed.”

Bobby had no choice but to trust the fox. He spit on his own paw and shook on the deal.

“Alright! We set out as soon as it is dark.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. An army patrol is due to arrive here early tomorrow morning. Didn’t know about them, eh? Have a hard time explaining why you only have one tent and a double sleeping bag to them wouldn’t you?”

Bobby had to admit that the fox knew the local area much better than him, and silently kicked himself for camping so near to an army outpost. “Alright, tonight it is.”

Bobby and Barbara ate some of the food from their stores, sharing it with Renny when he sat there staring at them eat. It was almost dark when they finished so they packed up and followed the fox northwards.

Renny led them to a wooded area and skillfully guided them along a game trail that lead through an otherwise unpassable tangle of undergrowth. Even as accustomed as he was to navigating in the dark Bobby had a hard time keeping up, and had to keep a firm grip on Barbara’s hand so as not to lose her in the blackness.

Eventually they came to an open area, one that was artificially cleared, marking the border between Pastoria and the territories.

“Wait here.” Renny advised them. “I have to go ahead and check to make sure the way is clear.”

The two lovers waited in the dark, their arms wrapped around each other, while the moon travelled two paw’s width across the sky. Just as Bobby was sure that the fox had abandoned them Renny returned.

“Okay, the path is clear. It’s going to get a bit wet and muddy though, so stay close and keep your packs high up on your backs.”

They adjusted their packs and clothing and then trailed the fox along a meandering path that followed the contours of the land. It dipped into a ditch that would have been a rushing stream in the spring but now in late summer it was just a muddy creek. The muck came up almost waist high on them before the path climbed out again on the other side of the border.

“You’re not safe yet.” Renny informed them as they cowered on the edge of the cleared land on the Territories side. “Lots of robbers and thieves come this way looking for folk trying to get out of Pastoria, and they won’t just take your belongings and cash.” He added staring at Barbara, whose wet clothes were clinging to her wool-less skin.

“How much further?” Bobby asked.

“Half an hour. Then you’re in the territory controlled by the local Lord, where you’ll be safe.”

They wrung the worst of the water out of their clothes and hurried north. After what Bobby estimated to a half hour of marching the fox stopped them in a small clearing.

“The road is just over there.” He pointed. “West leads to the Lord’s castle and east takes you to a small village on the intersection with the road that leads to the northern territories.”

“I’ve heard that north is the best place to lose oneself.” Bobby commented.

“For sure, yes.”

“Okay then, here is the other half of what we agreed on.” Bobby passed another fifteen coppers over. “and look, I’d like to apologise for what I said about foxes earlier, about them only being motivated by profit.”

A new voice came from the edge of the clearing behind them. “You might want to hold on to that apology.”

Bobby whirled around with his club in one paw and his knife in the other just in time to be blinded by a bright lamp as it was uncovered. Behind it he could make out a dozen or more creatures. They were large and armed with swords. Sounds from the direction of the road told him that there were more there; they were surrounded. Once his eyes had adjusted he could see that they were all wolves, and they were all dressed the same; like soldiers.

More lanterns were uncovered, lighting up the clearing. The wolf that had spoken was the largest of them, and his uniform of leather and brass was more elaborate than the rest of the troop. He gestured and half a dozen wolves leapt forward to first disarm Bobby and then to restrain him and Barbara.

The lead wolf strode over to where the fox was standing, pulled a pawful of coins from a bag at his waist and threw them at the ground by the fox’s feet.

“Thanks for waiting until he paid before you took him, Capt’n.” Renny said as he bent to pick up his bounty.

The Captain turned to Bobby. “Not all foxes are motivated by profit, but this one sure is. Renny guides more escapees to us than any of the other smugglers, but don’t be too mad at him. Most smugglers would have left you with a gang of thieves, murders and rapists. We’ll take you in, but as long as you’re no threat you’ll come to no harm.”

“Take us in? In where?”

“To Bloodtooth castle to see the Prince, of course. He interrogates all newcomers personally.”

Bobby recalled hearing the name Bloodtooth somewhere before, but he was so worried about what would happen to them that he could not concentrate.

“Great,” he muttered, “I hope he has nothing against Collies.”

The troop leader shrugged. “There is only one collie he ever talks about; one he had a run in with on his coming of age quest. He’s a bit obsessed about it, I must say, but I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way about all collies, so let’s be off to see Prince Argus.”

Bobby’s heart sank as he suddenly remembered where he had heard the name before. “Argus?” He said in a strangled voice. “Not Argus Bloodtooth, son of Black Fang?

“I see you’ve heard of him.”

“Oh, shit.”