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KITCHEN FOX

Kieran had finally had enough of the beatings, the terrible treatment, the thankless, long work hours, the constant threat of drunken bar-goers taking him. The lack of prospects. The complete imprisonment within the walls of Matron's castle. He stood on the treshold of the great unknown world. Would he live on the streets now? Would he travel? He had enough money to not starve, but for how long? Would he take work another place? Would he be robbed the moment he set foot outside the door? What, in essence, should Kieran do now? It hadn't crossed his mind, he just needed to get away.

Kieran snuck out of the door, and onto the torchlit dirt street. In one direction, he could go from the bar where he'd lived and worked all his life and all the way up to the castle, through the beggar's district. The fox did not feel any inclination to visit that way again. But that was just it, the fox had thought it through this far, but his plans beyond sneaking out at night had amounted to nothing more than a great big blank page. He scanned the street in the opposite direction, towards the docks. The street went downhill, and hit the large secluded bay around which the city was built, head on.

The fox's mind only wanted one thing, and that was to put as much distance between the bar and him as possible. He could try to sneak along the bay, skirting the walls and hopefully find a way around them which did not involve confronting the gate watch. Maybe he could disguise himself and sneak past the guards. No, that wouldn't work. They would not allow him, or anyone out of the city in the middle of the night. Practically all the watchmen knew him as that one servant bound to Matron, and he knew that his fur, his face, his physique would stick out like a sore thumb.

There was definitely something off with the beggar he had previously glimpsed outside the bar. Was he dead? Usually Kieran could smell beggars from across the street. He cautiously drew closer to the strange figure. In the moonlit night, the whole world was blue and black.

The stranger's hood stirred, and Kieran made a little startled jump, jangling the coins he's stolen. The figure in the street looked up, and met Kieran's eyes. A flash of familiarity crept over the fox' face as he studied the dappled pattern of black spots scattered around the hard, cold eyes of the beggar. There was no mistaking his thin, black and white tail either, which was almost completely hidden in the greyish darkness of the folds.

"Duck?" Kieran tried his name, or at least, the name he had given Kieran to use.

The figure got to his feet from his resting lotus position in one fluid movement. He had a cane in paw, which was actually a concealed blade, thin like Kieran's pocket knife, but long and flexible, and sharper than a razor. Its length concealed in a hollowed-out walking stick with a metal capped tip.

The great unknown beckoned him away from Duck, to a place and a future of his own making, but it was filled with doubt and insecurity, and the great inescapable oppression of being completely alone. For a second he considered saying goodbye to Duck and making his own life, but he recalled Duck's words, and his promise.

"Kieran" The figure said shortly, fixing the fox to the spot with his sharp eyes. "You are not in bed at this hour?"

"Mister Duck...I had enough, I'm done with this, I don't want to die here. I want to live. I want... I want another chance."

"Another chance, Kieran?"

"I want to be strong like you, I want to not be afraid anymore. I want to be brave, and learn how..." Kieran realised he was rambling to this strange man. "What are you doing out here?"

"I might be able to help you, young fox" Duck said, after a long pause which he spent looking the fox up and down and concentrating on something innermost in his mind. Kieran's heart fluttered and beat quicker

"Where ever it is you go, please can I come?" His tail was wagging, a rare thing for his tail to do. There might be light in the end of the cave with this stranger. A well-travelled, possibly rich dog with an intelligent tongue. "You are a foreigner... Are you going away, can I come with?"

"It was my plan to do so, and I'd hoped to find a way to take you with me. Your life has merely taken another path, a path which I hoped you would take, now let us walk that path." Duck stretched out a paw, and gestured down the road to the docks.

"A path? What path?" Kieran asked as they ambled slowly through the moon and torchlit street, the houses on either side of the street dark and lifeless, and the sea ahead calm and clearly reflecting the full moon. His inner fox grasped tight to any promise of help, or a new life, or assistance, even servitude, to a degree. He owed this dog his life already, but he didn't want to get too hasty and throw away his one chance at freedom.

"Young fox, from the moment I first saw you in that bar, I knew there was something about you that set you apart from the other boys" Duck said wistfully, his eyes affixed at the stars in the night sky.

Kieran had heard similar tales being told from drunk sailors. It's the thing they'd say before they tried to get into his pants. "Sir, I am not... I'm not special, I'm just a fox"

"You have shown promise, Kieran, I think I can make something of you"

"What do you mean promise, how have I shown promise?" Kieran asked, He hoped he wasn't pushing his luck by asking too many questions, but Duck didn't seem to mind answering them.

"I've been watching you for a while now. Your actions, especially the way you dealt with that unfortunate situation with the otter..."

"Wh... How did you...?" He blurted out, interrupting Duck. Kieran felt his head flush with heat. "What else do you know? Why have you been watching me?"

"It was best that you didn't know at that time. I needed to see how you would handle yourself independently, Young fox"

"How much did you see?"

Duck sighed and laid a paw on Kieran's shoulder, and it was all the answer he needed. It was a hundred times worse to know that his shame and humiliation had been witnessed by a man he wanted to look up to. Despite his bulky clothing, he felt exposed, and naked in front of Duck.

"That blade. You purchased that for the money you found that night?" Duck asked. Kieran looked at him with confusion spreading across his face, as he pawed through his pocket where the knife had been. It had disappeared. He had had it just now. His eyes found the knife before his paws did. Duck was holding it, inspecting it. Then he proffered the knife to the fox, hilt first.

"I... I wanted protection. I was going to..."

"You were going to learn to write."

"Yes, but the otter was..."

"You knew the otter was a liability, but you persevered. You overcame your fear, but you didn't lose sight of the threat that was always there, and therefore you wanted protection. These things that you did, you used the money I gave you to better yourself, as I asked. You did well, Kieran. Do you remember what I said?"

"I remember" Kieran said, taking the knife. The streets had grown a bit warmer as the praise was lavished on him. He'd never been properly praised, not even the time when he'd baked Matron a cake for her birthday. He'd never been smacked so hard, after she yelled at him for wasting precious ingredients, she'd ended up eating the cake and not sharing even a crumb with Kieran.

"I told you I saw something in you, and no, Kieran. I saw something in your eyes. I saw your intellect, and your resolve and strength. You took an option that was not the one you wanted, a risky option. You suffered for that risk. When you were cornered, you faced your opponent with bravery, when you could have run away."

"Bravery?" Kieran repeated to himself. He thought about the times he'd wanted to slit that otters throat. He wanted to carve that otter into pieces, but when he had the chance to do that, he didn't. "Was it brave to let him do that, and not to kill him?"

"Sometimes, Bravery means taking the option that means nobody dies. It's not less brave to allow the otter to live. But I don't suspect you will forget. I don't believe you should." Duck turned his muzzle to Kieran, who was padding along besides him. "The thing I require from you will demand its own kind of bravery. I don't want you to get into fights or confront dangerous people. I simply need you to sneak, and lie for me."

"Sneaking?" Kieran asked, confused. "Why?"

"You are exceedingly talented at it and you need to be able to sneak well on a ship." Duck gestured at a sailing ship that was anchored out of port. "A ship has many ears. This ship is the one onto which we will board."

"And if I don't want to go on a ship and disappear into the shadows?" Kieran asked, suspicion growing

"Then you have but to vanish in the other direction, and not follow my footsteps as you do."

"And if I do not vanish, am I your prisoner? Or servant? Slave?"

"You will come along and follow my word, or you will not, and not."

Kieran's step didn't break for a second with Duck's strides. They walked along the plank dock until they came upon a small boat tied to one of the docks many little pillars. A small open row boat with two oars in it. Duck climbed down into the little craft, its small frame bobbed and rocked like a bed with uneven legs. Kieran had never been on a boat, much less one so small and fragile. Before he could think of a protest, Duck had pulled him down.

The pace was slow, there was an incoming tide, and the gentle stream of water flowed past the boat faster than the boat made its way along the shore. Duck was pulling at the oars and looking over his shoulder to where the boat pointed. The soft splashing of water played upon the stillness of the bay, its rippling waves could be followed all the way to the shore, catching the light of the moon as they dispersed.

"If you listen well and do as I say, I will teach you to do what I do"

"Do what you do?" He imagined sword fights and acrobatics and learning all the things he'd seen this magnificent dog could do. "Like fighting with swords and such?"

"That is not something you need to be taught, Kieran, but for now, stick to me, and follow my commands"

"What is your command mister?" Kieran asked eagerly. He desired the strength and power of this dog, and he wanted to be as smart as him. "Or should I say Master?"

"I command you to sit down, remain silent, and board this ship, where you will greet the captain most courteously indeed. You will then get a place to sleep, and after that you will not speak to me at all."

"Not speak to you?" Kieran ears drooped.

"That is my command, Kieran." Duck muttered "Just play along, and don't do anything to awaken suspicion in the captain. None in the crew may know that we are anything more than ship hands. From here on out, follow the comands of the captain. When the time is right, we will talk again."

"Yes, mister Duck, I will obey." Kieran's giddy rush dampened considerably when the fox was again put back into line, under a master. Unlike Matron, however, Kieran didn't feel like he had to obey because he would be punished if he didn't. Kieran obeyed because he would be rewarded if he did. Kieran had never been rewarded for as long as he could remember, his whole life, he had given himself up to others and his only return was a stay of punishment. Despite himself, his tail tapped excitedly against the transverse bench he sat on

"Good luck, Young Fox" Duck said

The ship was a great surprise to Kieran. He had never seen so much wood stacked in one place before. It was dark and glistening with tar and oil and paint. Duck pulled the boat in close to the rear of the ship, and two ropes descended from holes in the little house which sat on the back of the ship. It had great big windows to face the ocean. For a second, Kieran thought Duck wanted him to climb the little rope, but Duck tied them instead to their boat, one in the front and one in the back. A sharp whistling noise came from the spotted muzzle, and the boat suddenly started to rock and shift, as the ropes tightened. Then the entire craft was heaved out of the water.

Kieran feared they would be pulled into the bottom of the hut into which the ropes disappeared, but when he looked again, they had stopped ascending. Kieran could not see much other than the boat underneath him, great planks of wood above him, where the two ropes disappeared into two little holes, and between them, a barely visible trapdoor suddenly swung up, and a bushy canine looked down at them, aided by a lit lantern.

Heat came from the trapdoor. The bushy canid stuck out a paw, and Duck lifted Kieran before he could take in the strange figure. As Kieran was carefully placed down on the floor inside the entirely wooden hut with the magnificent windows.

The room carried a strange, spiced smell of incense of some kind. It was well lit and furnished in a strange and unfamiliar way, but everything looked very expensive. There was a bed in the far end of the room, facing the window. On the bed, there was a sleeping figure, but with the covers all drawn up, Kieran could not tell much more than that. In the middle of the room, close to the hatch which was now closed, was a table. A thin wooden table with a white table cloth, decked for a meal. Kieran hoped there would be food, he didn't know if his rations would last him the journey.

Around the walls were several pictures of maps which Kieran could not read. In between the maps, several shelves were stacked up against the white painted walls. But instead of food or wine cups, the shelves contained what Kieran could only guess was books, of many different shapes and sizes. They looked like the ledgers Matron kept, but some were so small, you'd be hard pressed to fit a single day's worth of business on each page, while others were large and heavy looking.

Kieran's mind swam with curiosity, and his tail flicked from side to side as he took in the richness, strangeness and pleasantness of his environment. He felt a nudge at his shoulder, and came to. He realised he was gaping, and standing in front of a great big bushy canine. Kieran couldn't say what he was, but he was some sort of wolf, that was for sure. He had a mane, like a lion, only bushier, black and grey. The rest of his fur was brown, and he had large, pointy ears studded with gold rings. His muzzle and face were completely black like Kieran's. His upturned shirt sleeves revealed black stripes like a tiger. He was an exotic looking character all together. There was another nudge at his shoulder, and Kieran suddenly remembered his orders. He took a humble bow, his tail held out behind him, paws together, in the fashion of the colonies. The wolf nodded at him, and bid him raise himself. There was a clever smile about his muzzle and eyes, which shone like amber in the candlelight.

"A thousand greetings to you, small black fox. I am Captain Ajag, and I see you haven't met someone quite like me before" He brought his two bejewelled, striped arms to rest on Kieran's shoulders."I am an Aardwolf, from the colonies on the golden continent."

He spoke Castellanian with a different accent than Duck, and it was not the same sort of accent as the natives of Kieran's home city spoke either. It was altogether rounder and more relaxed, and Kieran had heard it before, but he had never known where it came from. "You are the new kitchen boy?"

"Kitchen?" Kieran asked, but realised it must have been Ducks idea, because the spotted dog gave Kieran a secret wink of encouragement. "Y... Yes sir, I'm the Kitchen... fox. I'm the kitchen fox."

"The Kitchen Fox!" The captain rumbled in a jolly tone "Very well Kitchen Fox. Your duties will be explained. take a seat with me at the captain's table"

Kieran unbuttoned the jacket in the stifling heat of the captain's cabin, and hung it across the back of one of the chairs which were drawn up to the table. Only after he had seated himself and taken in the room afresh did he notice that Duck was no longer in the room. It was only the captain, and Kieran, and the figure sleeping on the bed in the end of the room, some 10 feet away. It didn't stir from the captain's booming laughter, and it didn't stir as the captain welcomed him to the table.

"May I have your name, Kitchen Fox." He asked

"It's Kieran, mister."

"Captain"

"Pardon mister?"

"You call me captain. If you're going to work for me; and this is my ship, then to you, I am Captain, or Captain Ajag."

"Oh, my apologies, m... Captain"

"Very good. Now, mKieran, here's mFirst Mate" The captain mocked, with a playful grin, as there came a knock on the door. Kieran's ears were burning with embarrassment already. These chairs made him feel diminutive and out of place, they were made for someone larger than him. His toes only barely reached the wooden planks below.

There was a gentle creak behind him, and the smell of tiger entered the room. Kieran's body tensed for a little. The tiger looked strangely familiar, but maybe it was just that tigers all smelled the same to non-tigers. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, but this tiger did not lie in a puddle of blood. He was as large and strong as the other tiger Kieran thought about, and foul tempered as well, but he could tell this one had a different shade of orange.

The tiger didn't seem to care that he was here, and pulled a chair from the table with a scraping sound. The chair creaking and protesting underneath his bulk.

"Kitchen Fox, this is Krishnananda Singh, the first mate of my ship. That means he is everyone's boss, apart from me" The captain laughed at his own jest.

"You call me Sir. In the mornings you wake up at dawn and prepare food. Then you scrub, then you prepare food again at dusk. After that I care not. Stay out of the forecastle room." The tiger growled. Kieran's ears were flat as he studied the tiger's massive arms, the rings on his fingers, the diamond studs in his ears, and the ring in his nose. He looked as richly dressed as the captain, but the jewellery seemed more imposing somehow.

"Oh, he's just grumpy. You'd do well to make him tasty food, Kitchen Fox" Captain Ajag smiled, his first mate glancing over to him with his beady yellow eyes. A parchment was placed on the table, and out came the inkpot and long, feather pen.

"Kitchen Fox, can you read letters in Castellanian?" The captain asked, studying the parchment, before spreading it out on the white cloth, prepared to read out loud what the words said.

"I know some words, captain" Kieran said timidly. Wine Sellers were not spoused to know writing.

"I... Eh... My... My matron taught me to read ledgers." He stammered. The captain and first mate both inspected him across the table, and he shrank in his chair a little. He didn't want to admit that he had learned writing from an otter who had also raped him.

"Very well, Kitchen Fox, you might wish to read the contract, and then sign, or mark it at the bottom, as you please." The captain poured out a measure of red liquid in the glass next to Kieran, and offered him a drink. He slid a contract over to Kieran.

Hesitatingly, and with great effort, Kieran read the words on the paper to himself. He had to trace the words with a finger in order for them to stay in place as he read them, but after having drunk the wine they no longer flew around so much.

"What does... this... this word, what does that mean? I have not seen that word before" Kieran scratched the back of his head and pointed to a wavy word on the sheet. The captain scanned the word, then burst out laughing.

"That is the one word I can guarantee you my entire crew knows in all the tongues of the great wide world!" He boomed, his jewellery rattling and bouncing up and down in his ears. "Kitchen Fox, that word is allowance. It is what we will pay you each month!"

The captain laughed, and slapped the tiger on his back, who offered a smile himself. Kieran felt embarrassed, but he had never ever received money for any work before, so when he then read on, and his fingers traced over some symbols which were numbers and not letters, he had to read the sentence back to himself a few times. As he did, his eyes grew wider, and realisation set in. He didn't read the rest of the contract. He had never seen so much money being paid for anything. 20 silver coins for a month's work? That was as much as some sailors would spend in the bar in a whole week, Kieran thought to himself. A considerable sum. He put his shaky signature down on the bottom of the parchment.

Kieran could tell that behind the laughter and jovial mocking, the captain had been impressed with his reading skills. He had also noticed that the tiger had been following him with his eyes as he'd been concentrating on the words. When he got up, and bowed to the captain and the tiger, he saw the tiger's eyes fixed at him, narrowed.

"You may leave us Kitchen Fox. Out that door, and down the stairs on deck, you will find the mess. I will wake the mess boy, and he will show you where you will be living. Welcome to the crew" The captain boomed, and a large, ringed paw slapped Kieran on his back so that he almost lost his footing. He fetched his heavy jacket, filled with all his stolen trinkets, ambled distractedly towards the door to the deck, looking again at the shelves of books, the strange pictures on the walls, and the large windows at the other end of the room, where the figure in the bed slept undisturbed.

The night air was cold now and the light from the moon did very little to warm his fur. The deck was like a large wooden balcony with a jumble of ropes, loose and taught, stretched all around, going around little wheels, or tied to masts and beams, or flapping loosely in the breeze. The fox stepped carefully so to avoid the ropes, his night eyes showing him where to place his paws. Towards the middle of the ship, by the main mast, there was a staircase that lead down into the belly of the ship.

Going down gave him a familiar sense of recognition. The walls were as close, and as dark as the other cellar in the fox' mind. It smelled damp and cold down here also. The lanterns that swung from the roof had all been put out, and the darkness was only broken by small beams of light pushing through the top deck. Kieran could see, further down the ship, rows and rows of rocking, cloth hammocks which were strung from the roof, most of them had some sort of tail hanging over the edge.

A soft noise came from the stairs, a creak from the floor boards, and a stranger appeared in the moonlight. He had round, small ears, but not as small as an otter. They were half as big as Kieran's own, and white as snow. His pointy face was also white, almost shimmering in the moonlight. He looked younger than Kieran, but still grown. His entire body was as covered in white fur, and he wore a pair of frayed, grey trousers, and nothing else.

Kieran went to speak, but the boy held up a finger to his muzzle, gesturing to the sleeping sailors, and beckoned Kieran into a little room towards the back of the lower deck. They went along the length of the ship until Kieran figured he must be directly underneath the room where the Captain and First Mate were, at the very back of the ship. There was a strong smell of old cooking in this part of the ship. This must be the kitchen in which he was to be a Kitchen Fox.

"Kit, I'm a Weasel!" the boy said, and stuck out a paw for Kieran to shake. "This is my mess."

Kieran took in the sight of the kitchen. It was a very tight little kitchen with a great stone stove in one corner and a chimney that vented the smoke outside. Clutches of dried leaves of various herbs, aromatic and dense, hung from strings around the workbench, and there was an assortment of heavy cast iron knives stuck in the thick wooden counter, their tips buried in the rough grain.

"I don't understand, there is no mess here, it looks very clean" Kieran pondered

"We only called a mess; it comes from the old Castellanian tongue but it means Kitchen" Kit laughed. "What are you by the way, what is your name?"

"I'm Kieran, I'm a black fox" Kieran said absent-mindedly. His eyes traveling around the room.

"Hello Kieran. Let me take that" The weasel, Kit, took him by the shoulders and attempted to lift the jacket from them, but Kieran pulled away, suspicious.

"It's not like I want to steal it, fox, I just want to show you where you can keep your things. We have a chest, you see!" He smiled and took Kieran's arm, as he made his way to the back of the kitchen where there was a small iron bound chest. Kit pulled out a key from his tattered trousers and unlocked it. Inside the chest were some ragged clothes, a few pages with writing on them, and a little leather bag with some coins in it. Kieran stared at the chest and its contents for a long time.

"You don't want your outside clothes to become dirty. Where are the rest of your clothes?"

"The rest?"

"Usually new crew have a bag or something with their belongings..."

Kieran could only shake his head, and it seemed the weasel understood. He looked at Kieran for a long time with a strange look in his eyes, but let it go

"I have to put mine in with yours?" He asked the weasel

"Fox, I won't touch your stuff if you don't touch mine" Kit looked slightly offended.

Kieran sighed and clutched his little wooden chest, heavy with coin, before he placed it in an empty corner of the chest, uselessly covering it with his body to prevent the weasel from catching a glimpse of his treasure.He deposited his jacket, too, but emptied his pockets of the meat, the cheeses and the wine skin before closing the chest.

"You won't be needing any of that here" Kit said, pointing to the provisions in Kieran's paws. "We'll be fed every day, and you don't have to pay for it, either."

Kieran looked up at him, uncertainty in his eyes. What if he only wanted his food. He quickly shook the thought. There was a kitchen on this ship, of course there would be food.

"I guess, I suppose I could just eat it now and be done with it" Kieran sighed. The weasel was smaller than him, despite Kieran being under-fed. He noticed a small twinge of sympathy towards the weasel as he judged Kits small frame and short stature "Do you want some?"

"So... Kieran" Kit mumbled with his mouth full of cheese as they sat at the long bench tables, stretching from the kitchen and into the sleeping quarters. "How did you get here?"

Kieran hadn't had the time to think up a back story for himself. The weasel looked right at him while he concentrated on chewing a piece of dried meat.

"I was a wine-seller... and I didn't want to be a wine-seller" Kieran said shortly.

"Really? Where?"

"The Manor of the Many"

"The... You are the dusky fox?"

Kieran flushed and his ears folded back. Of course, the weasel was a sailor as well as a mess boy, and he'd know all about sea shanties and black foxes in bars.

"I'm eh I don't know what you're talking about" Kieran lied, rather poorly even for his own standards

"No, you totally are that fox. They say you're some sort of womanlike maiden, the way you move and serve the guests..." Kit wiggled his hips and did a happy little skip

"I AM NOT!" Kieran hissed intensely, his sharp voice froze the weasel's expression in place, and making kit's ears flatten against his face, and shrink in his seat. His fur had raised on his back and his teeth had glinted white in the weasel's shocked eyes. "That's... not who I am..."

"But... I was..." Kit said hesitatingly

"Just don't say anything." Kieran muttered. He wanted most of all to put it all behind him, especially that part, the harassment, the touching, everything that made him feel less than a man.

"I didn't mean to offend, fox." Kit said meekly, after a moment of silence. "I used to work at an inn... Then one day, some soldiers came and took the inn over and I was a prisoner for a while. Some way or another, I ended up on a ship, filled with other prisoners. They wanted us to work somewhere without pay. Then some pirates showed up and freed me. Now I'm here" The weasel's story was short, and practiced.

"That's all?" Kieran asked.

"What do you mean that's all? That what your story was worth" Kit retorted; his eyes defiant but his smile at the ready.

"Wait a moment, is this a pirate ship?" Kieran asked incredulously, only just realising that part of Kit's story.

"No, this is a merchant ship."

"But weren't you captured by pirates?"

"I was released by pirates"

"How?"

"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine"

Kieran chewed on his tongue for a while, tasting the last salty bit of meat and washing it down with some wine. He couldn't come up with anything to say to hear Kit's story. There must be another way. He decided to sleep on it, and work the weasel for information at a later time, and raised the issue of sleep with Kit, who skipped over to a small nook in the wall in the very back corner of the kitchen, opposite the stove, which Kieran hadn't noticed. Kit had a spring in his step, his ears perked and his tail swishing gently.

"This is where you'll be sleeping, fox. There was no place to hang a hammock in here, and I prefer to sleep close to the stove, it can get cold some nights." Kit said, and gestured to a narrow bed. Not very long, but it was real. A real feather mattress, a real pillow, and the blankets were real too.

"Where are you sleeping?" Kieran yawned.

"On that bed over there" Kit said, pointing at the bed he'd just offered to Kieran.

"But... where am I sleeping?"

"On... that bed over there" Kit's eyebrow raised. His finger didn't move. "You've shared a bed before, right?"

Unease crept over the black fox' spine, and his heart was pounding faster. He had shared a bed before. He'd only ever found himself in bed with someone who then made him feel like less of a man. The fear was creeping into his heart. He'd always slept by himself.

"I can sleep on the floor. It's okay" Kieran stammered

"On the floor? It's winter time, the bed is quite big enough for two to sleep on." Kit said incredulously, trying to take Kieran's shoulder, but he stopped when Kieran flinched, and held a careful paw out to placate the shivering black fox.

"What's the matter, fox?" he said, concern replacing his smile and jovial tone.

"I can sleep on the floor." Kierans ears folded down.

"You really can't though. It is cold, you'll freeze." Kit persisted "Listen, I can find another place to sleep, fox"

Kit went over to the bed and patted the soft, inviting mattress gently. There was no desire or hatred in the weasel's eyes. Kieran wanted to let his guard down but he couldn't shake the memories. He could only walk stiffly over to the bed and sit down on it like it was a bench. It was as wide as the two boys if they had slept very close to each other. He cautiously laid down on the bed, keeping a close eye on the weasel as he laid down. He tried to sleep but the weasel wasn't moving from the bedside. He just sat there, silent, looking at the moon through the cracks in the roof.

"Where will you sleep?" Kieran asked him

"I'll find a place to sleep" He sighed, and before Kieran could come up with another weak excuse he was gone and had disappeared into the darkness. Kieran could hear the steps as they padded away from the kitchen, up the stairs, and then back across the deck, coming to a stop somewhere above him. There was a creak from a door, and a slam, and then the noises went away.