{"sf1_id":1088079,"sf2_id":"zeR0WZrn","title":"In the Service of Mystery (Pt. 23)","author":"CofEFur","words":5319,"posted_at":"2016-10-20T14:36:00.000Z","tags":["Bird","Cat","Character Development","Clean","Collie","Cougar","Disappearance","Dog","Fox","Horse","Lion","Lynx","Plot Development","Squirrel","army"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1088079-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-23","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/zeR0WZrn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/d2/30/d23073b9-982d-4215-8152-48c203ca37ca","description":"#30 of In the Service of Mystery\n\nWell, that all went quite wrong quite fast.\nPoor Harry...\nSorry about the early update this week, I'm away for the weekend (one of the few free weekends I get in a year) and I don't know if I'll have any internet access.\nOn the plus side, it's a biggish lump of story.\nComments, etc. - yes please!","content":"\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After the happy couple had left the church and through two lines of crossed truncheons, the families left.\u0026nbsp; I wandered outside chatting to Anna - who, it turns out has never cried at a wedding (I can't say the same, I'm a soppy old hound at heart).\u0026nbsp;By now, the police honour guard was piling back onto the minibus and PC Milvus was locking a case with the lieutenant's gun in it back in his car.\u0026nbsp; Harry was waiting by the lych-gate, looking more than a little worried.\n\n'Francis, your Mum's here!'\u0026nbsp;He said as we approached.\u0026nbsp; 'She says she brought Gerald with her, but there's no sign of him.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Abruptly, he strode away towards the vicarage, ears flat against his skull and his paws swinging; he was angrier than I had ever seen him before.\u0026nbsp; Anna and I followed along in Harry's wake.\u0026nbsp; My mother's elderly 4x4 was parked behind my car, looking every inch a mobile scrapheap.\u0026nbsp; She was pacing back and forth in the front garden with Kiniun trying to calm her.\n\n'Mum, what's wrong?\u0026nbsp;Where's Gerald?'\n\n'Francis, thank heavens you're here.\u0026nbsp; Where have you been?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I glanced down at my cassock and then back at my mother.\n\n'I was taking a wedding, Mum.\u0026nbsp;Come inside and explain what's happened, please.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I ushered my mother inside the house and the others followed in.\u0026nbsp; Having finally managed to settle my mother into a chair, I put the kettle on.\u0026nbsp;Kiniun set out some mugs and the biscuit tin (somehow he had discovered its secret hidey-hole).\u0026nbsp; I poured boiling water into the big tea pot.\u0026nbsp; Once my mother had taken a large draught of tea, she calmed visibly.\n\n'Is that better Theresa?'\u0026nbsp;Asked Harry.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She nodded, then took a deep breath.\n\n'It started last night,' She said, 'About midnight, I heard this awful noise coming from your old bedroom, Francis.\u0026nbsp; I went upstairs to find out what the commotion was.\u0026nbsp; By the time I reached the landing, the noise had stopped and young Gerald was just standing there, still and silent.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'I tried talking to the poor love, but he wouldn't or couldn't say anything.\u0026nbsp; In the end I took him back to bed.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'So, first thing this morning, Gerald comes down the stairs gabbling and carrying on something awful.\n\n'\"What's the matter, love?\"\u0026nbsp;I asked him.\n\n'\"I have to go back, it is ordering me, pulling at me.\u0026nbsp; I have to go back!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'That's all he would say, over and over again.\u0026nbsp; He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sit still; he just kept fretting until I said that I would drive him back to Rayton.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'All the way here he sat and fidgeted.\u0026nbsp; As soon as I came to a stop outside, he just shot off down the road, towards that big estate and I haven't seen him since.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My mother sat in silence.\u0026nbsp; Tears of worry and frustration were coursing down Harry's face and muzzle.\u0026nbsp; Kiniun appeared to be deep in thought.\u0026nbsp; I looked to Anna, her eyes were wide.\u0026nbsp; She tapped me on the shoulder and then inclined her head towards the hall.\u0026nbsp; I followed her out of the kitchen.\u0026nbsp; She put a paw on each of my upper arms and said quietly:\n\n'I think Gerald is in danger.\u0026nbsp;I think he's the tribute.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Nodding, I explained my recent dream of the previous night to Anna, as I finished Kiniun walked into the hall.\n\n'Francis, your mother has gone with Harry for a walk in the garden.\u0026nbsp; What is this about?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Again, I explained what I knew and Anna added her local knowledge.\n\n'If what you say, Miss Felis, is correct, Gerald will be safe until their Offering.\u0026nbsp; Francis, we have the chance to rid this place of this lurking evil.\u0026nbsp; It is, also, the only way that I can see to rescue Gerald from his fate.'\n\n'Right,' I said, my voice hard, 'He should be safe until tomorrow night, I'll call Canon Hopes at the cathedral and find out if he can help.\u0026nbsp; Kiniun, you said this would need priests that I could trust implicitly?'\u0026nbsp;The lion dipped his head in agreement.\u0026nbsp;'Good, Charlie I trust.\u0026nbsp; The rites of deliverance call for two priests: me and Harry - there's no way that he will accept not coming with me.\u0026nbsp; You and Charlie will have to be in the church - praying the rite, supporting me and Harry.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Kiniun nodded again.\n\n'That seems wise.'\u0026nbsp; He said.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The sound of the back door opening and closing signalled the end of our conclave.\u0026nbsp; I dispatched Anna to introduce herself to my mother and extracted Harry for a conference.\u0026nbsp;He sat down in the armchair in my study.\u0026nbsp;I pulled the office chair out to sit opposite him.\u0026nbsp; There was a lingering wetness around his eyes, his ears were drooping and he was pulling nervously at his tail.\n\n'What will happen to Gerald?\u0026nbsp;Is he in some kind of danger?'\n\n'I don't know, but I think this is something linked to my dreams, and to those bits of knife, some kind of possession.\u0026nbsp; We will be able to get him back only if we free him and whoever is the conduit, the link animal from whatever power is controlling them.'\n\n'I'm coming with you.'\u0026nbsp;Said Harry, almost before I had finished speaking.\n\n'Yes, good.\u0026nbsp; Tomorrow is the Offering, we need to get there and stop it, scatter the cultists and find their \"priest\".\u0026nbsp; Gerald is their tribute, a sacrificial victim, they will be holding him somewhere.\u0026nbsp; Don't worry, they will keep him safe, they need him.\u0026nbsp; Sorry, I'm gabbling this, but I do have a plan.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; This, I said with more confidence than I felt.\u0026nbsp; A plan was starting to form in my mind, but it was hazy and vague.\u0026nbsp; Harry stood and put his paw on my shoulder.\n\n'I hope you do, Nerd.'\u0026nbsp; He said.\u0026nbsp; 'I'm not prepared to lose Gerald.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He left the study without another word.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I span round in my chair and leant on the desktop.\u0026nbsp;My paw brushed against something rough, the cover of my father's journal.\u0026nbsp; I flicked through the creamy pages, side after side of my father's writing.\u0026nbsp;What had Dad written in the flyleaf?\u0026nbsp;I opened the front cover:\n\n'Use this book well.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I read.\u0026nbsp; Could Dad have meant, could he have anticipated, that I would become an exorcist?\u0026nbsp; Settling back in the chair, I switched on the computer and watched as it hummed into life, various coloured lights and panels illuminating.\u0026nbsp; Once the computer was running, I began to read my father's journal.\n\nThere is, on the Savannah, a great deal of pagan tribal religion.\u0026nbsp; It seems apparent, after my experience with Kiniun, that there is truly some great and controlling power holding sway over the Wildcat Tribes.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He went on in this vein for some while, part theological reflection and part travelogue.\u0026nbsp; He detailed his research into traditions of exorcism and teaching around the evil one across the Church, even branching out to other religions.\u0026nbsp; After twenty or so sides of this, he recounted a meeting with his bishop.\n\nToday, I was called to the palace at Newton for an interview with Bishop Eric.\u0026nbsp; News of my studies had reached his ears, I doubt very much that the old mouse will understand.\u0026nbsp; Bishop Eric seemed weary, he was slumped at his desk.\n\n'Shepherd, Church House tells me that you are engaging in research of exorcism.'\n\n'Yes, my Lord.'\u0026nbsp; I replied.\n\n'There are some at Church House who are concerned that you are merely dabbling in unenlightened folk religion.\u0026nbsp; But, I and some of my fellow bishops are convinced that the office of exorcist should be revived.\u0026nbsp; Father Benedict, would you be willing to accept this responsibility?'\n\nNaturally, I accepted.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; From that point, Dad's style was that of a manual of the practice (and indeed the practise) of exorcism.\u0026nbsp; The prayers and liturgies were outlined, along with details of how and when he founded that they worked.\u0026nbsp; He also included salutary tales of when things didn't work.\u0026nbsp; For example:\n\nI was called to attend a young donkey, who, it was feared, was suffering under a possession.\u0026nbsp; The demon was successfully cast out, but I did not fully ascertain the name of the vile being before returning it to the pit.\u0026nbsp; In a final fit of rage, the demon's power lashed across my mind.\u0026nbsp; I spent the better part of a week convinced that I was a cockerel by the name of Kevin.\n\nTasso-Meles was correct, the name is vital!\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Dad went on to list what he called the 'Demonology', a hierarchy of evil beings and what their capabilities and weaknesses were.\u0026nbsp;Despite my training, and my experience of the exorcists of the Medved Empire, I had never seen anything so detailed.\u0026nbsp;I typed it out, just to try and make sense of it, reading it aloud to myself as I went:\n\n'First Throne of hell, chief among them: Satan, the lord of evil.\u0026nbsp; Cast to the pit by the angels of God.\u0026nbsp; The Corrupter of all creation, yet unable to leave his throne.\u0026nbsp; Therefore, he must send his demons into the world to do his bidding.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; So the list went on through all seven Thrones, Dad appeared to be following Tasso-Meles' outline of the corrupt hierarchy, but with much more detail.\u0026nbsp; He had come to the conclusion that, as the thrones become weaker, it was easier for a demon to pass into the world.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; From what I could gather, the commonest possessions were performed by demons of the fourth Throne, physically strong and devious, able to control the subconscious mind.\u0026nbsp; Fourth Throne demons had to be consciously summoned, but yet could live within a host dynasty for generations.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After an hour of typing and muttering, I was happy that I had worked out the correct form of the liturgy and prayers.\u0026nbsp; I was pretty sure that I could call out the demon and demand its name.\u0026nbsp; Leaning back, I ran a paw over my aching eyes and scratched my muzzle.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A noise from the doorway made me turn around.\u0026nbsp; My mother was standing there with a mug in either paw.\n\n'Hello, Mum.'\n\n'Hello, _Taonta_,' She smiled, 'I've brought you some coffee.\u0026nbsp;Harry and Kiniun have tried to explain what's going on.\u0026nbsp; Anna's nice.'\n\n'Yes, Mum.'\u0026nbsp; I replied, slightly fazed by her non-sequitur, 'She is nice and she's been a great help to me.'\n\n'What are you reading, love?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She reached out with the coffee and as I took the mug, her paw snatched the little journal off the desk.\n\n'Ben's journal.'\u0026nbsp; She breathed, her eyes glittering.\u0026nbsp; My mother had the most expressive eyes, her left eye was dark brown, but her right (as with a lot of collies) was a startling blue-grey (as mine are, both of them - for years my parents worried I would go blind before I left school), now they glittered and shone as she remembered her husband.\u0026nbsp; 'Your dad always wanted you to have this.\u0026nbsp; He said it was only to be given you when you were ready.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'For ages I prayed that you wouldn't follow your dad's paw steps so closely.\u0026nbsp; He went to so many awful things, so many animals in such pain and anguish.\u0026nbsp; I didn't want for you to have to see what he saw.'\n\n'I know, Mum.\u0026nbsp; What was this he wrote, about thinking he was a cockerel called Kevin?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My mother snorted slightly at the memory, a smile spreading across her muzzle.\n\n'The first I knew of it was a telephone call from his Archdeacon, you remember Archdeacon Hunter?\u0026nbsp;He's just had his ninetieth birthday.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I rolled my eyes at the digression.\n\n'Anyway,' Continued my mother, 'Archdeacon Hunter said that I had to come and collect Ben from an address in Ridding.\u0026nbsp; So I got in the car and drove to Ridding.\u0026nbsp; When I got there, the doctor had sedated your father, so him and Archdeacon Hunter just kind of poured Ben onto the back seat.\u0026nbsp; We went home - that was a long drive from Newton to Ridding in those days, we weren't all that long married either.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'The next morning, I went up to see how your father was getting on, and I found him, dressed only in his nightshirt, scratching at the carpet with his foot paws and trying to crow!\u0026nbsp; The strange thing was, even though he thought he was \"Kevin\"; he knew that he was married to me.\u0026nbsp; It confused him no end, trying to work out how a chicken would marry a dog!'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I laughed at this, the very idea of my sombre, serious father acting like that was just so odd.\n\n'I miss him every day.'\u0026nbsp;Said my mother.\u0026nbsp; 'I am proud that you're a priest, like your dad, and an exorcist, _taonta_, it's what he would have wanted of you.\u0026nbsp; That doesn't stop me from worrying, though.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She leant down and embraced me.\u0026nbsp; I set my coffee on the desk and returned the hug.\u0026nbsp; For a while, she wouldn't let go.\u0026nbsp; In the end, we were interrupted by Anna poking her head through the door.\n\n'Father Kiniun got hungry, so he's made lunch.\u0026nbsp; It's ready.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I disentangled myself from my mother and we walked through to the kitchen, where Kiniun had laid out a dizzying array of small bowls.\u0026nbsp; He beamed at us as we entered.\n\n'Francis, I have not yet been able to repay your hospitality, and your local shop is surprisingly well stocked.\u0026nbsp; So, I have done the best approximation of a Wildcat meal that I can - although tinned carrot does not figure too often on a Savannah Menu!'\n\n'There was no need to go to these lengths, Kiniun.'\u0026nbsp; I said.\u0026nbsp;'Thank you, I'm sure it will be delicious.\u0026nbsp; I can't remember the last time I actually cooked in my own kitchen.'\n\n'When did you learn to cook, o son of mine?'\u0026nbsp; My mother chimed in.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; This caused Anna to collapse into a fit of the giggles, and add:\n\n'Mrs Shepherd, I think he just lives on the cakes that Mrs Avis at the Post Office makes!'\n\n'Call me Theresa, Anna dear.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The criticism of my culinary talent, or lack thereof, having finished we tucked in.\u0026nbsp; Harry was clearly still worrying about Gerald, as he merely pushed his food around his plate.\u0026nbsp; That was until Kiniun leaned in to him and said softly:\n\n'If you do not eat, you will not be able to help Gerald when you are needed the most.\u0026nbsp; Surely an ex-soldier must realise the importance of eating well before a battle?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; This worked spectacularly, I'm not sure for fear of the big lion, or out of a sense of duty to Gerald, but Harry managed to eat something from each dish.\u0026nbsp; The food was quite different from what I was used to: very spicy with earthy flavours.\u0026nbsp;Savannah cuisine seemed to consist of lots of little stews and marinated meats that were eaten by scooping mouthfuls out of a bowl with a scrap of bread.\u0026nbsp; By the end of the meal, my paws were covered in spicy sauces.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was a hiatus after the meal; a little pause to aid the digestion before I began to think about clearing away the dishes.\u0026nbsp; We were all too full of Kiniun's cooking to even think about moving, even Harry had managed to stuff himself.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The clearing away was easily sorted, as everyone mucked in.\u0026nbsp; This was not, perhaps, the least stressful manner in which the table could have been cleared, my mother has never liked the way I load the dishwasher, but it had the advantage of being quick.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Once more, the kettle was put on and the tea pot refilled.\u0026nbsp;I left my mother and Anna chatting in the living room and herded Harry and Kiniun out into the garden.\u0026nbsp; I gestured for Harry and Kiniun to sit in the big wooden chairs, and I perched on the low wall.\n\n'I need your help, although the bishop has licensed me for exorcism and I've done them before, I only have half a plan.\u0026nbsp; I don't want innocents to be hurt, and, we cannot fail.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I looked from lynx to lion, saw the determination in their eyes.\u0026nbsp; That was encouragement enough, that others believed what I was saying; for the last few days I had barely been able to believe what I was hearing come out of my mouth.\n\n'There are two big problems that I can see.'\u0026nbsp; I continued.\u0026nbsp;'First: we don't know where this \"Offering\" is going to happen.\u0026nbsp; I've had fleeting glimpses of some old temple or folly, that's probably on the Oxfold Estate, but I've only got my dreams to rely on.\u0026nbsp; I can't believe I've even said that, I'm relying on dreams.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Second: if what I think is correct, is actually correct, there will be a lot of animals there.\u0026nbsp; We cannot run the risk of them either stopping us, or getting hurt.\u0026nbsp;They may not believe in God, they may not look to the Church for anything, but I am still their parish priest and I have a duty towards them.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; At this, I stood and slapped one paw into the other.\u0026nbsp;Pacing the patio, I could feel my hackles rising at the apparent futility of the whole enterprise: four priests against five- or six-hundred villagers.\u0026nbsp; I paced for another couple of minutes until Harry spoke.\n\n'I have an idea, about how we could get animals to leave us in peace...'\u0026nbsp; He trailed off into silence.\n\n'What, Harry?\u0026nbsp; Anything is better than nothing.'\n\n'Francis, I don't think you're going to like this.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I huffed in frustration.\u0026nbsp; I looked down at my foot paws and then back up to meet Harry's eye.\n\n'Please, Harry, just share your idea.'\n\n'Well... Natasha Fuchs owes me a _huge_ favour.\u0026nbsp; I think I could persuade her to let me have some... some stuff from The Regiment's depot.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I looked at Harry, there was a certain air of vagueness about him that didn't sit well.\u0026nbsp; His ear twitched and he wrinkled his nose, then said flatly:\n\n'I think I could get my paws on some grenades.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Kiniun stared, I stared.\n\n'We do not want to kill anybody, Harry.'\u0026nbsp; Said the lion gently.\n\n'No, no, not HE grenades, Natasha owes me one, but nothing would convince her to let lethal weapons out of the armoury.\u0026nbsp; I was thinking about flashbang grenades and smoke grenades - they make a huge noise and confuse things, but they wouldn't kill, they're not designed that way.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The idea of an explosion and a magnesium-white flash underground filled my mind, but if Harry thought that these things wouldn't kill, what other choice did I have?\n\n'Can you sort that out, Harry?'\n\n'Yes, I'll need to use your phone, Nerd.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With that, Harry stood and walked back to the house.\u0026nbsp;I sat down again and looked at Kiniun; then, absently I began to pick at the tip of my tail - teasing out stray hairs from my fur.\n\n'Ben used to do that when he was thinking.'\u0026nbsp; Said Kiniun.\u0026nbsp;'He would sit for hours on the edge of my village, staring out across the plain, picking at his tail.\u0026nbsp; What is it that you are thinking about?'\n\n'How can me and Harry get to this temple, is there even is a temple?\u0026nbsp; Harry seems pretty sure he can scare off bystanders, but that's worse than useless if we can't get to where the Offering is happening.'\n\n'Have you tried asking Miss Felis?\u0026nbsp; She seems to be very knowledgeable when it comes to the traditions of this place.\u0026nbsp;It is not beyond the realms of possibility that she could tell you.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I agreed with him, and the lion stood up and stretched.\n\n'Speak to her, Francis.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With that, he walked off.\u0026nbsp; I sat for fifteen minutes or so, feeling the warmth of the sunshine through my fur.\u0026nbsp; I was just beginning to drift off into one of those day-dreamy moments, when Harry came and sat heavily on the wall beside me.\u0026nbsp; He scratched the tip of his nose with a claw.\n\n'Well, I'm going to hell.'\u0026nbsp;He opened.\u0026nbsp; 'I've just talked a serving officer in His Majesty's Forces into stealing, Natasha is bringing some, what she called, \"goodies\" tomorrow afternoon.'\n\n'If we get through this, I think we're going to be owed some leeway, upstairs, as it were.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry laughed weakly.\n\n'I'm sorry, Harry, for getting you mixed up in this... this weirdness.'\n\n'It's not the first time I've come across this _weirdness_.\n\n'Really?'\u0026nbsp; I asked, cocking my head to one side in puzzlement at the very matter of fact statement.\n\n'Really.\u0026nbsp; It was a few days before _that_ attack.\u0026nbsp; We were on a front line patrol, two weeks of keeping the rebel and allied militias apart.\u0026nbsp;Two weeks of facing down idiots armed with ancient assault rifles.\u0026nbsp; You know, they kept their proper fighters back for hit and run attacks on each other and on us: the poor mugs who willing put themselves in the middle.\u0026nbsp; We weren't dealing with the same calibre of animal as those who attacked us later that same week.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'So, the last night of our patrol brought us to what was marked as a village on our maps.\u0026nbsp; It couldn't have been much of a village, even before the civil war.\u0026nbsp;Those years of war had seen the front line wriggle back and forth like a worm on hot ground, this village was just in the wrong place.\u0026nbsp; By the time my unit was deployed there, the village was just a huddled collection of ruins.\u0026nbsp;Only the church was left standing - gutted and daubed with strange signs.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'After yet another day of being jolted through mile after mile of mud, we dug in at that church for the night.\u0026nbsp; The routine was the same as any other patrol camp: I ordered the tanks to form a protective barrier around the church; sent a report back to Regimental Headquarters, once we had the radio operating; that and the hundred and one other small, but necessary things that a body of animals need to do before settling for a night in the army.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'It was my habit to walk the sentry line each night, to see how my soldiers were faring.\u0026nbsp; And, to keep tabs on the general situation.\u0026nbsp; About halfway through my walk, I was stopped by one of the sergeants, Sergeant Oakcate, he was a squirrel from the Ironmont side of the White Forest, a normally unflappable soldier -he struck terror into the hearts of new recruits- but, that night he was on the verge of panic.\n\n'\"Sir!\u0026nbsp; The forward guard fire team have found bodies, lots of them!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'I followed Oakcate out to the forward guard post.\u0026nbsp;The soldiers on duty were shining a big spotlight-like torch out into a field.\u0026nbsp; The powerful beam of light threw the shape of a paw into stark relief; I saw one paw, then another, then a tail.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'We had all been briefed as to the mass murders and other atrocities that had been committed.\u0026nbsp; Those, and the mass graves.\u0026nbsp; This was the first I had seen.\u0026nbsp; I'm not ashamed to say that the first thing I did was throw up.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'The smell, Nerd, such a smell - worse than at the Abbey.\u0026nbsp;That stench of death hanging heavy in the air.\u0026nbsp; One side or the other had been shelling the area recently, that had brought the body parts to the surface; and had added the flat, chemical smell of burnt explosives to the air.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'It was a relief to walk back to the camp, though it felt as if the stink was clinging to my fur.\u0026nbsp; Somehow, the news had got back to the rest of the unit ahead of me; I was treated to a series of puzzled and nervous stares.\u0026nbsp; Luckily, the army had procedures for everything, or so I thought, so I was able to report the discovery of the mass grave pretty much on auto-pilot.\u0026nbsp; The radio set had been brought into the church and placed on a folding table, its aerial cable snaking out through the empty hole of the window-frame.\u0026nbsp; At that time, half of the army's radios were having problems - flashy lights not flashing, and so on; it was no surprise that our radio was on the blink.\u0026nbsp; The radio had stopped working after being moved from my tank to the church, and, in the end, I resorted to thumping the radio's casing with the flat of my paw, which had absolutely no effect.\u0026nbsp; Having prised the back panel off the radio, I found the problem - a clump of ginger fur from our radio tech, a cat with particularly long fur whose name escapes me.\u0026nbsp;Finally, the radio crackled into life.\n\n'\"Patrol Delta to Control, over.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'There was a burst of static and then the voice of Natasha Fuchs.\n\n'\"Go ahead, Patrol Delta.\"\n\n'\"Tasha, it's Harry, we've found a site.\u0026nbsp; Send a containment unit and get on to Divisional for the forensics wallahs.\"\n\n'\"Received, Patrol Delta - hold until 0700, Control out.\"'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry paused and looked across the garden, but unseeingly - I was sure that his gaze was looking across hundreds of miles and back through the past decade.\u0026nbsp; He sighed and tweaked at an ear. \u0026nbsp;Slowly he brought his focus back to the present and looked at me.\n\n'Sorry, Nerd, I lost my thread there for a moment.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Anyway, there was nothing we could do, so we settled down for the night.\u0026nbsp; It wasn't a good night.\u0026nbsp; I was woken three of four times with reports from sentries of shapes moving in the dark, and of strange howling noises cutting through the stillness of the night.\u0026nbsp;In the end, I went out to see for myself. \u0026nbsp;I spent three hours crouched in a scrape in the hillside, feeling the damp creep its way through my fur and turn my skin horribly clammy. \u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Time crawled past, and, after I don't know how long, something flitted across my field of vision.\u0026nbsp; It was a pale figure, a dog, a fox, a wolf?\u0026nbsp; I couldn't tell.\u0026nbsp; Soon the figure was joined by others, all moving slowly through the dark.\u0026nbsp; They seemed to glow faintly as they moved along.\u0026nbsp;I blinked and then they were gone.\u0026nbsp;It sounds stupid to say it, Nerd, but they were there one second and gone the next.\u0026nbsp; They were gone, but that glow persisted, faint and white.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'I walked slowly back to the camp, not quite believing my eyes.\u0026nbsp; Then, came a sound, an unearthly howling screech.\u0026nbsp; There were no words, just a heart-rending scream _de profundis_, from the depths of some soul in unbearable torment.\u0026nbsp; I ran the rest of the way back into camp, my ears twitching, hunting for the source of the noise, my tail thrashing in frustration.\u0026nbsp; Things got worse inside the ring of tanks, I was greeted by my 2-in-C, Lieutenant Vulpes-White, the kind of posh fox who was sent to the Royal Officer Training College at Alderholt as some form of finishing school, he was a good officer, though.\u0026nbsp; I knew something was wrong when he saluted and addressed me formally; normally we were quite informal.\n\n'\"Sir, Lance-Corporal Roe hasn't reported in from his picket patrol.\"\n\n'\"Bloody hell, Simon,\" I replied, \"How long has he been gone?\"\n\n'\"He should have reported ten minutes ago.\u0026nbsp; He's not responding to his call sign on the headsets.\"\n\n'\"Search teams out?\"\n\n'\"Yes, Harry.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'There was not much else we could do.\u0026nbsp; The search teams came back empty-pawed.\u0026nbsp; About half an hour before sunrise, Lance-Corporal Roe staggered back into the camp.\u0026nbsp; His uniform was torn and one of his antlers had been broken.\u0026nbsp; Roe was babbling about God knows what: devils and demons; of paws grabbing at his legs from out of the earth.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'I remember my relief as the sun came up, the first rays of the morning light making the gilding on the church's funny onion dome burn like fire.\u0026nbsp; It struck me as really strange, that the gilding had survived in spite of the vagaries of the war.\u0026nbsp; The fragile beauty rising above the alien-looking and blasted landscape.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Reality came back with the distant thrumming of helicopter blades.\u0026nbsp; I squinted up into the sky, shading my eyes, to see three RIAF helicopters breasting the eastern treeline.\u0026nbsp; They set down to the south of us and disgorged the forward elements of the containment team.\u0026nbsp; Their commander, a Royal Military Police major, took over.\u0026nbsp; I think you might have heard of him, Nerd, a bloodhound by the name of Doge, he became quite famous as an expert witness at the war crimes trials.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I nodded, willing Harry to go on with his story.\u0026nbsp;He ran a paw over his eyes.\n\n'So, Doge puts us to guarding the grave site until the rest of the containment unit arrived.'\u0026nbsp; Continued Harry.\u0026nbsp; 'They put Roe in one of those choppers and took him to the field hospital, still jabbering about what he saw.\u0026nbsp; They discharged him from service as \"mentally unfit through combat stress\", they thought he was loopy.\u0026nbsp; But, I saw the conviction in his eyes, he had seen things I wouldn't wish on my own worst enemy.\u0026nbsp; I was convinced that he had seen _something_ that no animal should ever have to see.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Weirdness is nothing new for me, Nerd.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A shiver ran down my spine causing my tail to quiver.\u0026nbsp;I rubbed my paws up and down my arms.\u0026nbsp;Harry had gone back to staring out across the garden.\u0026nbsp; We sat silently for some time, hearing the short, buzzing flights of insects and the distinctly prosaic rattle of a distant lawnmower.\u0026nbsp; Harry put his head in his paws, his ears drooping.\u0026nbsp; After a while, his shoulders began to heave and I could hear quiet sobbing.\n\n'Oh, Harry.'\u0026nbsp; I said, putting my arm around his shoulders.\n\n'Three days later, they were all dead, Francis, all except me and Roe.\u0026nbsp; The recovery units sent out after the rescue patrol found so _little_of Simon Vulpes-White that he was sent home in a sealed coffin.\u0026nbsp; His funeral was the last time I wore my uniform - his parents had asked that I command the bearer party.\u0026nbsp; It has stuck with me: having to carry that too-light coffin into the church; standing stony-faced in the same dark green, stiff-collared uniform that Simon had worn with such pride; feeling the brass on the peak of my cap digging into my side.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'That was the day I gave my last word of command.\u0026nbsp;It has stayed with me as well, etched into my memory like acid: \"Bearer party will come to attention with arms reversed.\"\u0026nbsp; The sign that a comrade will never again take up arms in service of his King and his country.\u0026nbsp;An order that is never shouted, only spoken.\u0026nbsp; Then, standing at the graveside, ramrod stiff, rifle resting against my leg, trigger turned away from me, watching the undertakers lower Simon's remains into the earth.\u0026nbsp; The sound of the Last Post echoing across the cemetery.\u0026nbsp; Even now, ten years later, I cannot take a military funeral without seeing Simon.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'I took that uniform off for the last time and went to the nearest pub and tried to drown out the memories.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Silenced reigned once more; roughly, Harry wiped a paw across his eyes, dashing the wetness away.\u0026nbsp; The lynx sat slumped forward, his face hidden by his paws - it was as if the entire weight of the world was pressing on his shoulders.\u0026nbsp;There was little I could say that wasn't going to sound like some trite platitude.\u0026nbsp; There is a depth of grief where all one can do is share in it, to be at the edges - simply to be present.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"In the Service of Mystery","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1086557-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-22.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1090766-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-24.json"}}