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Chapter Nine: A Cure for Tragedy

It had been a week since the slaves served nobles at the duel, and Garrett was sick and tired of hearing Bailey cry at night. The wolf had been...well not good, but okay up until then. He'd been managing, learning to celebrate small victories and stay out of people's way. Garrett liked him, he felt in an inexplicable tug towards the fur, some urge that just made him want to be near the younger male.

Turin and Randor. Garrett thought, knowing their owners were the source of all the misery in their small lives. It was incredible how tiny a life in chains could become. The scrapings of food that counted as meals were huge points in the day, and having a day free of back breaking work and pain was the greatest of miracles. The enslaved viewed the Masters almost as Gods, and not without good reason. Turin controlled almost every element of their life; when they slept, when they worked, when they ate, when they suffered and when they were spared. It was hard to not to view the jackal as some sort of cruel deity, difficult to really look past all the conditioning to see the person beneath.

Turin Depra eats food just like I do. He gets dressed the same way, he sleeps, he cries, he shits. He's alive. It was a small mantra Garrett repeated before falling asleep, a reminder that their captors were mere mortals. Small infractions could be achieved if one of was careful, and weaselling ones way out of punishment was challenging but not impossible. In slavery, the act of living was a game, and Garrett had a lot of practice.

He turned over on his matt, sighing as he heard Bailey's sniffles in the background. Couldn't the kid give it a rest? He'd hardly spoken since that day, keeping to himself, doing his work without comment. He hadn't gotten in trouble at all, and had spent most free time somewhere near Misha or Resh. The day after the fight had been good, Turin had gotten some kind of bonus and as a reward they were all allowed an extra ration of food at dinner. There hadn't been laughter as everyone ate, but there was a certain lightness to the air. As usual Garrett refused to enjoy it, decidedly refusing to let the Masters control his emotions, for good or otherwise. He had expected Bailey to be in high spirits though, and had sat down next to him to try and talk. He wouldn't be happy at something Turin gave him, but he could make his own joy guilt free.

But the Timberwolf had just slumped in his spot, head hanging over his bowl of food as he slowly ate. He responded to basic and direct questions, but sometimes required prompting. Garrett had tried to make conversation for over an hour before giving up, electing to simply sit near the pup. He wished he could straighten out the feelings in his head. There was no reason he should feel protective over Bailey, but something about the hurting wolf hurt him. It was a wound deep in his chest, a cold squeeze of anger coming over his eyes as he thought about Turin. He'd done it deliberately; forcing Bailey to serve the high-blooded nobles of court, knowing that the wolf would recognise who he slaved for.

But I've seen depressions before. He thought, tossing over on his mat and sighing. He'd known furs that had been so beaten down that one day they just started running. Usually on the walk home, they would turn and sprint without a word. They all knew they wouldn't make it very far; but it was never a genuine escape attempt.

It was a suicide-by-guard.

Garrett had considered some of those people...not friends exactly, but something close to that. And yet when they died he felt only a steely resignation. That was their world, death happened. He'd been angry when he'd seen younger furs beaten so hard they later died in their sleep, furious at the violence and injustice...but not...like this. It was something about seeing that wolf's ears droop, his eyes on the floor, tail wrung out in his paws.

What the hell is wrong with me? Garrett wondered. That pull he felt! He rarely ever went out of his way to be near others, but Bailey...when they sat near each other his eye was drawn to that nearly red fur. The orange and grey lights on the inside of Bailey's elbows and stomach attracted him, the patterning beneath his neck excited. He found that even from a distance he could watch the nearly black lines running down Bailey's back, broken only by the twisted scar of the slave brand. It wasn't something Garrett could ever remember experiencing. When other furs spoke to the wolf he felt a pang of want, a worry that they might say something about him, about how cruel or cold he could be. Of course they were never talking about him, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

He was thoroughly confused, and alternated between anger at Bailey for causing this, and a desperate compulsion to be near him.

Despite all that, the crying was annoying. Looking over the dark room, Garrett saw the wolf's frame shuddering with the sobs.

He's too naïve. This is good for him. Even as he thought it Garrett wasn't sure he believed the sentiment. Hasn't he suffered enough by now? He rubbed at his wrists; feeling at where his fur should have been, worn down and replaced with hard callouses. It had been a long time since his hands had been free. If Randor set him free tomorrow, could he survive in the world? Would he be able to find work, food, shelter? Being a slave not only took away one's agency in the most literal sense, it also stripped them of an independent mindset. Garrett was unsure if he, or any of his fellow captives, would have the motivation or drive to work hard without the crack of a whip above their heads.

Bailey could make it. He hasn't been like this so long...his mind isn't destroyed yet. Garrett wished there was something he could do. He felt useless, impotent...helpless. There's nothing I can do. He told himself.

He heard another sob slip free from Bailey's spot, and brought his paw into a fist. No, not nothing. There was something he could do; he just needed to think smaller. He could never hope to save Bailey from this kind of life, but maybe he could ease it.

Garrett hadn't been touched kindly in over six years. He hadn't spoken to a girl since his father sold him, and could count on one paw the amount of times in his life someone had comforted him. Bailey was hurting, fighting his own battle...but he didn't have to be alone.

The Akita sat up. His heartbeat picked up in his chest as he thought about what he wanted to do, and his stomach grew unsettled. He could feel the fur on the back of his neck bristling at the thought.

Just go. Be near him. So he isn't so alone. He looked over to the quietly sobbing Bailey, and thought about going to him, lying down and just holding him. His breath grew shallow and he swallowed nervously.

However a second before he could move, another figure in the distance did. Garrett felt his face burn as he recognised Misha's form crawling over to Bailey, navigating through the sleeping bodies. Shame washed over him as he saw the mutt whisper something that sounded kind, before lying down on the floor just behind the wolf. Garrett sighed and fell down in a heap, feeling as if everyone was staring. He was acting like a pup, stupid and irresponsible. When Bailey was undoubtedly sold to some mad Lord, or shipped off to another city, or simply died from any number of dire consequences he would just hurt more.

He hated the feelings inside himself, he didn't understand them and he certainly didn't want them.

Without knowing why, he fell asleep with tears in his eyes.

The next day was Eighth Day, and on top of that there wasn't any work to be done. Garrett woke late and to an abandoned hall. Since the day was free of work, he'd been left to sleep. He would have missed breakfast, but that was fine, he wasn't hungry. Bailey and Misha were gone from their spot, and the only furs he saw now were the ones that always stayed in. A few wild mutts in the corner, dozing off sporadically and staring into space, plus the broken ones that spent all the time they could asleep, dreaming away reality. His face felt a little puffy, and the fur around his muzzle and eyes stiff and awkward. He wished more than anything he could have a bath and wash it all off.

He climbed up, grunting from the soreness in his joints and shuffling outside. It was unusually sunny today, and he squinted suspiciously at the light. When something good happened, he could never shake the feeling it meant something even worse was coming. It kept happening, a bias that was self-reinforcing.

Make a new friend. Sold.

_ _ Escape. Capture.

_ _ Resist. Hurt.

_ _ Eat. Starve.

_ _ Rest. Exhaustion.

_ _ It was a vicious cycle, a circle of tragedy that only succeeded in beating him down. He had no idea how anyone was supposed to hold onto their mind like this. Apparently life under some of the other Slave Masters wasn't so bad, Fura was supposed to be harsh with punishment, but gentle in other ways. By all reports she'd let you have the most freedom you could, so long as you performed when required.

Blinking back tears as he adjusted to the light, Garrett felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders as he saw that stupid wolf. Bailey sat in the shade, actually grinning as he chatted to Misha. The two were sitting right next to one another, shoulders touching as the mutt gestured wildly with his paws. How did he do it? Bailey seemed to have it the hardest sometimes, Turin hated him, and on top of that he came from a life where slavery was some remote and distant concept...He'd lost more than any of them, and this was all after seeing his father cut down in front of him.

Yet he smiled. Sometimes his tail wagged. He cried at night but he could still make friends like Misha.

He just doesn't understand yet. He doesn't know how much this world will crush you. Garrett thought the sentiment but again wasn't certain if he believed it. It had been...what, six, seven...eight months now? Long enough at least that anyone else would be long broken. He isn't anyone else though, is he?

Garrett had never met someone like Bailey before. Someone that, as well as remaining light-hearted himself (recent depression notwithstanding), actually managed to make others_feel good about themselves. Just by talking to them, he could brighten their day. He was tall, but (now anyway) slim and lacking muscle. He looked like a perfect target for harassment from some of the stronger slaves. There'd been some of it - that damned tiger in the past - but in the last few weeks that had all kind of fallen away. Hell, before Bailey had arrived Misha had been chatty, but not _happy. Now the mutt laughed, joked, seemed to forget his worries.

And on top of that, there was what he did to Garrett. The pull. Even now, he felt a slight twist of betrayal as he saw the pup talking without him. Why didn't he want to be around Garrett? Of course, that line of thought made him remember that he'd done everything possible to scare the stupid wolf away.

Idiot. He wanted to help Bailey. More than anyone else before, Garrett wanted to see that pup in particular free from his chains...he just had no idea how to do it.

With his tail between his legs, Garrett skulked over to where he saw Resh napping against a log, the bear's eyes lazily drifting open every few minutes or so. With a nod from the fur, he let himself fall down next to him, feeling the sun warm his exposed torso.

"Um...hello?" Resh asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Garrett shot him a quick glare.

"Why start with that?" He asked.

"Not like you is all. Did you get all of your brooding out already?"

"Shut up Resh."

"Righto." The bear shrugged, and Garrett sighed.

"Sorry."

"S'fine, I guess." The two sat in silence for some time, Garrett watching Bailey and Misha in the distance. Why were they sitting so close together? Why did he hate the fact they were?

"Bailey." He said suddenly, startling the bear to life. Resh rubbed at his eyes with a huge paw, cracking his neck absentmindedly.

"What_about_ him?" He asked, sounding tired.

"Why have things happened like this? What makes him so important? Have you noticed it? Everywhere I turn, there he is! I can't get away from him."

"Does he annoy you? Garrett, do you just hate it when someone dares to feel anything but bleeding misery or...?"

"No!" He snapped, a little too quickly. "No, I...he doesn't annoy me. It's weird."

"He's an important person. Or was...I'm not sure he's always at the centre, I think you just pay more attention to him. Also Turin hates him, which probably doesn't help."

"And why is that? Why does that damned Jackal insist on picking on him so much? What did he do that's so bad?"

"You're very talkative today." The Akita didn't respond, and Resh grunted. "He's jealous. He hates nobility, the whole bloodline thing, and the fact he'll never have any chance to be a part of it. You ever see a jackal in the court?"

"Resh I've never even seen the court."

"Fair."

"But he's like a..." He stopped. Why was this so hard? Garrett didn't make a habit of talking to others, but if he was going to, it would always be Resh. So why did he feel...shame? He swallowed. "...like a brother or something. I don't know. He's just some pup used to having everything delivered to him on a platter. And yet..." He paused, looking down at a paw and turning it over delicately. He whispered the next part. "I can't be mad when he's about." His face grew hot and he could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He felt a nauseous and was grinding his teeth. What the hell was _wrong_with him?

Am I sick? He wondered, looking back over to Bailey. No...It was like...it was like there was an imaginary rope tied between them, and right now it wasn't long enough. Garrett just had this...sense, instinct, whatever, that he should be closer to the young wolf. To protect him, to...Protect him from what?

_ _ Resh was quiet for too long. It made Garrett uncomfortable, and he went back to staring at his paws. He had an urge to pull his tail into his lap and fiddle with that, but that was something he hadn't done since he was a teenager.

"A brother." Resh said finally, somewhat incredulously. Garrett looked to him, frowning.

"Yes. I think so. I don't know."

"Right." There was another lapse in conversation, and Garrett gave up watching the two, letting his head loll back. Resh cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something? About Before?" The Akita sat up suddenly, Timberwolves momentarily forgotten as he eyed the bear.

"What?" He said, voice much harder than it had been a few moments before.

"You were young when you got your brand, right?" Resh asked gently. He knew he was treading on taboo here. The rule was - no questions about Before. Garrett was especially firm on this rule. "Before you did...did you ever have a girl? Someone you were sweet on? Someone you...did things with or...?" Garrett's head snapped to the front, and he had to suppress a growl.

What kind of question is that? He thought. His memories were dusty and cobwebbed, forgotten by a combination of design and time. Garrett had been fourteen when his father sold him, and part of the reason he refused to think about that time was the simple fact he couldn't remember half of it. Twelve years was a long time. Being a slave, time seemed to blend together. Most days he could hardly remember what happened yesterday, let alone more than a decade ago. Still, he had come to Resh for...what, help? For something. He could answer this question.

Did I? He tried to remember people from his old life. His mother, who died, his father, who beat them both...there was a vague recollection of a friend, but it was some wild dog, probably dead now too. Not a girl anyway, definitely male.

"I..." He began, but suddenly froze. His heart was going so fast. Why couldn't he just answer this? It wasn't a hard question. Was it? "...Don't think so, no." Resh again took time collecting his thoughts.

"You were in Ita's crew for a few months, right?" Garrett nodded. He'd been transferred to Turin from Ita more than a year back, but he could still remember some vague details about the jackal's crew. "Do you know what goes on there, with Jarrick and his little group?" Garrett blanched, what the hell was Resh suggesting? Jarrick was a slave, and in Ita's crew he and a bunch of other males would do...things, with each other. It had always annoyed Garrett at night when he was trying to sleep and there was a bunch of moaning and grunting at the back of the room. Listening to the noises had always made him feel...odd. The wolves that partook would never speak to each other during the day, but at night it wouldn't stop. Even now, Garrett had a queer tingling in his stomach as he thought of it.

"I know." He said curtly. Resh must have sensed his shutdown, because he began to speak very carefully.

"Did you ever...or would you ever...join in with that?" He asked, slowly. Garrett glared at him.

"Something you want Resh?" He hissed, baring his teeth slightly. Resh's eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head.

"No, no-no Garrett you misunderstand. I was just...wondering. I know for Jarrick and the others in Ita, it's just...just sex. They just wanna fuck and get away, one of them told me they'd rather fuck into something than just their paw."

"Resh what in the Allgod are you talking about? No, you know what, never mind, I'm going, this is too much." He stood and began storming off, tail flicking angrily. Resh climbed to his feet behind him and chased after, verbalising short worries. As he got close he reached out and grabbed Garrett's shoulder. The Akita instantly spun on his heel and snapped out a short growl. It was louder than he meant it to be, and it seemed the whole yard paused. His face flushed as he looked to Bailey, who was staring. After what felt like hours the furs forgot about the commotion and went back to whatever nothings they were doing, and Garrett forced himself to relax.

"Sorry. Just...I never did that. And...I don't want to." He felt so awkward, like his fur was all moving, his flesh beneath both hot and cold. Maybe he was sick.

"No, no I know. I'm sorry. I just...Come on, come over here." Resh pulled them both into a little nook out of the way. Garrett checked back on Bailey and Misha, but the two had gotten up and moved somewhere else. He felt a brief moment of worry, before realising there weren't exactly many places they could go. The courtyard wasn't that large.

"What?" He snapped.

"Is it possible...just possible, that your feelings for Bailey aren't...um, brotherly?" Resh asked. Garrett felt his ears fall, and he looked around in case anyone was close enough to listen in, although the bear was whispering.

"I don't...understand." He replied.

"Do you know...there are some males who feel for males, the way that most feel for females?" Garrett felt like he'd been struck by lightning. He did not. Everything went weird for a few seconds, and he felt dizzy despite not moving. Why was he so hot right now? It wasn't even that warm.

"Resh..." He breathed, not sure what else to say.

"There's nothing...wrong with it. I was just wondering. Maybe that's the kind of feeling you could have for Bailey?"

"I don't think so." The Akita turned away, biting his lip.

"When I met my Orena..."

"Please, Resh, don't..." Garrett muttered, but the bear didn't stop. And he was glad for it.

"She lit up my world. It was like...I don't know. Like we were stuck together with glue. Looking at her made things easier, and I just wanted to protect her, to help her. Talking to her made me nervous, in my chest and stomach. My fur would stand on end, it was the strangest feeling. I thought...I thought I was sick." He chuckled, but Garrett just swallowed, feeling his skin crawl. His slave brand itched fiercely, and he resisted the urge to scratch at it. "Eventually it got that when I wasn't with her, I would just...I didn't care about anything else. She just...made my day. It was like she had a halo around her, and it made everything feel easier. I could do anything if she asked me." He stopped, and Garrett heard him wipe at his face and sniffle slightly.

"What did you do?" He whispered over his shoulder, still refusing to look at the bear.

"Eventually if I didn't tell her, it would have killed me. I told her I loved her more than anything, and she left her mother's house and lived in mine. It was small, but we were happy. Then when my boy was born we..." Garrett heard the large frame of the bear thud as it fell backwards against the wall. He finally turned around, and saw Resh had fat tears in his eyes.

"You really felt like that?"

"Every damned day." He smiled wanly, and wiped at his face again. "Have you ever felt like that Garrett?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't...I don't want to think about it." And with that he left.

Later that night, an Akita struggled to sleep. He saw that Bailey and Misha had their beds next to one another now, but they weren't cuddling like the other night. For some reason that made him feel better. Also, the Timberwolf wasn't crying, which also made him feel better.

Despite this, he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned until the moon was high in the sky, it was bright tonight, which didn't help. He kept thinking about Bailey, and what Resh had said, then about Jarrick and finally back to Bailey. Stupid wolf.

Stupid wolf. The idiot. He thought, growling to himself. He felt so conspicuous, as if everyone in the room was looking at him. Still, when he paid attention, all Garrett heard was soft snores and slumbering breaths. Every now and then there would be a grunt or cough in the fit of a dream, but for the most part everyone seemed unconscious. The wolf to his right had his back turned to him, and to his left was the wall (Right beneath the window, terrible idea on a night with such a strong moon).

He couldn't relax. He felt like he had so much energy, as if he needed to get up and go for a run. His legs hurt and he was still hot.

With another furtive look around to make sure no one was looking, Garrett did something he rarely found time for.

He slid his trousers down.

Just a little, barely halfway down his thighs, exposing his sheath to the thin blanket he had on over him. His ears burned and he felt like a naughty teenager as his paw traced over the sheath, the flesh there stirring excitedly. He hadn't done this in ages, since he was normally too tired to even think once he hit the ground. His breathing picked up as his cock slid slowly from the sheath, letting out a gentle sigh as he squeezed the tip. A tiny slip of pre-cum bubbled out of the top and onto his finger, and he used the slickness to stroke the rest of his exposed dick.

With a burning face, he again looked around, but nobody seemed to notice. Even if they did, what did he care? Furs jerked off in here all the time. Almost every night he could hear the soft grunts and squelching. Still...it was different like this.

His left paw held the blanket up to give him space as the right picked up speed, gasping as he stroked. He grunted softly as his hips bucked slightly into his hand, tingling sensations running down the length of his cock. His knot hadn't yet appeared, but he knew from experience it soon would.

"Gah..." He breathed, instantly biting down on his lip and doing his best to remain silent. He exhaled heavily through his nose, closing his eyes and arching his back.

He saw Bailey. In his head. The idiot wolf, just smiling at him. He imagined looking at the slender arms, the sleek frame, the soft ears and supple mouth. He grunted again, using two of his fingers and a thumb to tease down the length of his cock, again raising his hips into the motion. He could feel the hard section of knot appearing now, and knew it wasn't long until he finished. He had never been able to last very long, especially when it had been a while. He felt his toes curling and in the darkness of his closed eyes imagined kneeling in front of that stupid wolf, fingers slipping into the band of his trousers and sliding them down.

"Uh..." He gasped, unable to keep it in. His hips picked up speed and so did his paw. Now he didn't care if someone heard, or saw. His whole body was rocking gently as he pulled on his dick, tracing over the knot and grunting quietly. He got into a rhythm, paw sliding up and down his cock as he breathed in time with the strokes.

"Fuck..." He whispered, somehow out of breath. He froze, hips raised slightly as he gulped and curled his toes as far as they would go. His cock quivered and he pulled his paw down its length once more, feeling a jet of cum spurt up his length. He couldn't help but exclaim as it burst forth, squirting up and coating his paw, soaking the sheet held in his left hand as he came. His toes curled and uncurled sporadically. The cum was warm as it escaped, and Garrett exhaled sharply as he shot twice, three times, four times, five times, all the while massaging his incredibly sensitive flesh. Finally his orgasm died and he let his body fall, panting and swallowing. All images of Bailey vanished from his mind, and he felt instantly disgusted at his thoughts. Normally his mind was blank when he did...this. His inflated penis slowly sagged, every now and then jumping as the almost sore tip touched something. He moved his hand around beneath the sheet, feeling the muck.

The fur around his waist was soaked, and some of the wetness had dribbled down the side of his hips and onto the mat. The sheet was now sticking to him and he couldn't touch anything without getting cum on it. Slowly, he did what he usually did and massaged the mess into his stomach fur until it wasn't quite so problematic. He pulled his trousers up, and after a quick glance around (face burning), he slid the sheet off himself. Sniffing, and trying to forget he thought of Bailey, Garrett rolled over onto his side facing the wall.

Recovering his breath, he closed his eyes, letting the relaxing sensations wash over him.

He didn't know what to do about any of this, but at least now he could sleep.

Idiot wolf.

It had almost been a good day, even though he'd hardly spoken to Bailey.

It was about to get so much worse.