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"I'm sorry, my captain."

She didn't turn to look at me. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see her pick up the bottle again to turn it over in her hands. She was studying the label and wordlessly reading out the name plastered across its surface. Her shoulders eased off from that confrontational square to a more comfortable slouch, as her salt-and-pepper tail finally came to a rest beside a leg. She sniffed and scratched under her chin with a pair of onyx and ivory claws, then did the same to the bottle in her hands.

"I really am." With a hand pressed against my throat - the muscles of it burned and throbbed with a painful ache whenever I swallowed - I bowed my head until my chin pressed tight against my chest. I could feel the beating of my heart against my fingertips, where it threatened to burst from my skin, as every part of me twitched and shuddered with nervous energy. The back of my right eye throbbed; the resounding beating of a drum against my skull intensified. "I-I promise you, Captain, that by the end of the day I'll -"

"You better fucking find it." Her voice was as soft as it was ever going to be - ringing through the room, echoing across our small ship. 'Whisper' was not a word in my captain's vocabulary. That anger she'd just held in her was mostly gone; what I felt instead was an intense sense of disappointment. "Else I'll..."

She either lost her train of thought, or found that it wasn't worth saying what had already been clearly expressed. Ear twitched against my bandana as I caught the telltale pop of an uncorked wine bottle, bright red liquor filling into a smoky and cracked crystal stained by years' worth of rum till it hung onto, but never quite breached, the very lip of her cup.

Finally, after a moment or two of hesitation, I forced myself to look at my captain. She'd turned her body a little, enough for me to catch her passing glare as she swirled the glass and brought it up to her lips. It wasn't until she'd sipped, savoured, and swallowed that her features finally softened, and what had once been a dangerous glare instead became a calm, though equally tense, indifference.

"I'll find it, Captain," I said to her while slowly backing out of her room, reaching behind myself to pull the rusted latch of her cabin's door open. From here I could see it all perfectly: her writing table directly ahead and to my left, her bed sitting in a corner to the right, the rows of harpoons hanging on the walls, and my captain standing off-centre from it all. She didn't look at me - just curiously eyed the wine in her hands and the collection of harpoons she'd stacked on her wall.

"Hey, Vulp." She caught me just as I crossed the threshold of her cabin's door. Light filtered into the room, though didn't quite reach far enough to really illuminate my captain's gloom surroundings. The tropical heat of Port Ronald singed my back as a relatively cool sting chilled my front. My captain raised her glass in the air - half drank by now, and she appeared to be ever more eager to top herself off again - and gave me a slight nod; "Good wine."

I held to my throat and idly itched at the spot where her fingers had threaded through my fur, a soft smile presenting itself as nothing more than a slight quirk at the edges of my lips. She probably saw it - my captain saw everything.

"Thank you, Captain. I... I knew you'd like it."

Door closed. Once more I was blasted by the humidity of the Eastern Isles. I listened to the heavy and lumbering footsteps of my captain, who for a moment lingered just on the other end of the door.

Deep breath in. She held it for a couple of seconds. Slow exhale through the lips. Another swish and swirl of her glass of wine, and the clinking of crystal against teeth, and the satisfied "Ahh!" as she audibly gulped a mouthful of the slightly sweet and rosy liquor. Her hand fell to the door - I could make out her blunted claws scratching against wood - and a moment later the latches all fell into place. Her footsteps receded back to the center of her bedroom, and just like that I was once again alone.

The rest of the world slowly faded back into the realm of existence: waves rocking against our ship's hull, the grunting and shouting of men as cargo was unloaded from our neighbor ship, drunken laughter, and the toll of a bell to mark the passing of the hour.

I looked to where the church was, off in the distance of Port Ronald's crescent arm, and followed a path down until I'd settled at a spot in the distance where I knew the Trident would be found, then quickly turned my attention to my more immediate surroundings.

Our small ship, weightless with the lack of cargo; the docks, as busy with activity as the winding maze that was Port Ronald's many intersecting streets; and the shops and stalls and homes that housed the thousands of people who named this town as theirs.

Thousands.

How in hells was I going to find my collar in this place? If it slipped from my neck - how did it slip from my neck - then it's already been found and sold. Leather for copper, copper for bread. Could be in any of the hundreds of stalls in the handful of bazaars, or in someone's private collection of trinkets, or halfway to any of the other isles, or at the bottom of the ocean.

It was... I could...

How did she expect me to find it?

No answer from her. Never an answer from her. I could practically hear the words straight from her lips. This is your problem, so fix it. Just like that, with her odd emphasis on pronouncing every little letter in each of her spoken words, along with the sharp sting to her accent that outed her as anything other than an Imperial Welk.

It's my problem, so fix it.

With a hand clasped around my neck - it felt naked now that I'd realized my collar was no longer there - I fell in step with a group of Welks who carried a heavy box of supplies down the dock. One of them glanced and growled when I got too close, while the other simply smiled and nodded and looked at his companion as if to tell me that there was nothing worth worrying about.

One day.

I felt it in my gut, as sure as I would feel hunger after a day's worth of hard work, or the incoming wave of nausea after drinking too much too fast. One day to find my collar and prove to my captain that I was still worth keeping around. One day to fix my mistakes. I was not about to let something so trivial undo two years of hard work.

So I hurried along after silently bidding the two Welks farewell with a swish of my tail, and found myself back at the Golden Trident, where everything was exactly as I'd left it earlier this morning. There was that wonderful and calming aroma that lingered in the air, masking the stench of fish and salt and meat that permeated Port Ronald. And, if I listened carefully enough, I could almost catch the sound of music coming from inside the building - there for all those who knew where to find it.

The lobby was still as pristine as I remembered it. There was that Sommerian girl again, who looked a little worse off for wear after a sleepless night of work, but who still regarded me with her professional smile and focused eyes. The building's inner halls were still filled with all manner of guests, who couldn't have had a care in the world about what was going on outside the Trident's walls.

That first floor lounge was as busy as it had ever been, the second floor baths continued to echo with a recital of pleasure and lust, and the third floor bedrooms were as silent and still as they'd been the night before. The only difference here was that I didn't have a guide to tour me through the Trident, and rather than coming upon an empty bedroom I was instead greeted with the sight of a large and heavy naked Welk splayed out across the massive and plush bed I had so comfortably spent my night.

Natél was at peace. He rested on his stomach, that large head buried into one of the soft pillows, with both his arms turned outward like a pair of featherless wings. Every so often he twitched and shuddered, grumbled something incoherent under his breath, and sighed. Those deep and heavy breaths were as calming to listen to as they were was mesmerizing to watch - his entire body seemed to rise and fall with every breath he took.

The temptation of crawling into bed and laying with him was almost impossible to ignore.

Now that he didn't have a Vulper tossing and turning in his arms, he could finally go to sleep. What was it that he called me? A terrible sleeper. I almost muttered an apology as I watched him. He must have had an awful night.

I slowly inched the door back, little by little, until I caught the sound of a soft click to tell me that it'd latched into place. Carefully - the last thing I wanted was to make a sound. For a few moments after that I just stood and watched. Didn't even take a single step into the bedroom. It hadn't crossed my mind that Natél would be right where I left him.

All I could think about was him as my gaze fell to every part of his body. Even when at his most vulnerable, the Welk held himself with a sort of restrained tension to his form, as if any minute now he was going to spring out of bed and grab me by the throat. It wouldn't have surprised me if some part of him knew I was here, whether it was by sound or smell.

As for the collar...

Nowhere to be found.

Not on the floor at least, where I thought it most likely to be. None of the floorboards so much as creaked under the weight of my steps. In fact, they almost felt as if they were absorbing the very sounds of my lightly-thumping boots. Behind the dressers... under the bed... nothing except Natél's heavy musk lingering on the ground like a fog.

And nowhere to be found on the tables either. I could see my half-eaten apple still sitting exactly where I'd left it alongside the crumbs that remained of those that Natél had devoured. There was a bottle of wine, uncorked and nearly empty, alongside a tall glass stained a rich dark crimson. Just looking at it now, I could lick my lips and almost taste it on the tip of my tongue.

It tasted exactly like I remembered, if not better now that the alcohol rushed through my body and eased the burning headache I'd been reeling with all morning. Just a sip - one calming, delicious sip.

I slipped out to the balcony, where I was greeted with a perfect view of Port Ronald's harbor as a gentle salty breeze blew in from the sea. The morning sun was warm against my skin and bathed the sprawling town in a golden light. The air up here wasn't as clammy as the streets below - though nobody really seemed bothered by the fact. It was the kind of thing that I wouldn't have noticed had it not been for the Trident's refreshing breath of air.

A strong arm fell around my midsection, wrapping me tight in a single-handed embrace that barely tried pulling me back as a hard body pressed forward. Little shivers ran all through my skin as I felt Natél's heavy breath fall upon the top of my head, teasing at the skin just beneath my bandana. His body pressed and stirred against my own as his other hand grabbed on to the base of my tail.

As if to further punctuate his arrival, Natél let off a low and throaty growl - exactly what I needed to lose my breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to take him all in.

"Wasn't expecting you," he said while pressing me back against his body. The Welk handled me so easily - it was a self-imposed restraint that kept him from doing to me however he pleased; there'd be very little I could do about that; "When I said I wanted to see you, I didn't think you would be back so soon."

His eyes were on the harbor, tracking the vessels that sailed to and fro, watching the people in the distance walk about their life like a colony of ants. I quickly found my breath again, matching his own, so that we'd inhale and exhale at the same time. In a hushed tone I whispered, "Consider yourself surprised," then added, "Did I wake you?"

"Yes," he stated simply, though he didn't sound the least bit annoyed over the fact.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to feel sorry about." His hand tightened over my stomach, those long fingers spreading out so they could cover as much of me as was possible. That other hand lifted my tail higher, and with a forward movement he pressed himself in until he had me pinned against the railing. Surprisingly enough, it was comfortable. "I thought you'd join me in bed."

"Tempted," I said, so barely audible that even I had a hard time hearing myself.

He noted it with a tap of his finger right against my navel. "What was that?" He could hear me just fine with those large ears on his head. Natél was just looking for an excuse to hear me talk. That's what it felt like - it felt good.

So I indulged him, and repeated myself with a little more energy to my voice: "I said, I was tempted."

"And yet," his hand fell from my tail and clasped tight to the warm railing that he'd been pressing me up against. A wonder that the wood was still holding to our combined weight; "here we are. Making me get out of bed to come after you." He shook that large head and, at last, settled his chin on my scalp. I could feel him smack his lips, and heard him audibly swallow what must have been an entire mouthful of saliva.

"The view is nice."

"It is," he said, as much of a whisper as a Welk could muster. I could practically feel his voice thumping against my chest. And something else - a tight bulge eagerly pressing into my rump, just below my tail, where it would have squeezed between my cheeks had it not been for my trousers; "The company is good as well."

"So you don't mind me being here." I couldn't help it, the slight shake of my hips, to tease him just a little more. I wasn't even drunk - the headache was long gone. This just felt... natural. And the way he growled, and stirred, and _throbbed_behind me. Gods, he was huge.

"Should I mind?"

"I haven't paid."

"And?"

"Did you already forget?"

He huffed, amused, and stated; "Welks never forget." Then a slight pause, another hard gulp, and a squeeze of that powerful hand against my slim and tight stomach, "... Forget what, exactly?"

"What you said to me this morning." He was silent - wanting to hear me talk again. Had to be. Else he actually did forget, and just didn't want to admit it; "I had to pay to see you again. I haven't paid yet."

"Ah, who cares." His hand dipped lower, just slightly, to tease a claw into the hem of my trousers, "You're here now."

"I..." I couldn't outright tell him I hadn't come because of him. Though now, resting in his arms, feeling him grow behind me, while listening to the beating of his heart, I couldn't help but feel like the collar came secondary to him.

Right up until I thought of it again, and all the anxieties that'd been whisked away came rushing back.

"I am," I finally finished. What did he see in me?

"So now that you're here, and can't go anywhere," he emphasized it by locking his arm even tighter around me, coiling like a muscle-bound snake, "you might as well talk."

"Talk?" I asked as I put a hand to his flexing forearm to scratch the fluff of fur and feel the muscle underneath. "What are you -"

"What has you so worked up?" He didn't give me the option to reply. "I better not hear any of that 'Oh, what makes you say that?' nonsense. I have a nose for these things." His was a bad, if amusing, imitation of my voice.

"What things?" He caught the way my voice cracked. If not by sound then by touch. Just like I could feel his voice in my body, I had no doubt that Natél could say the same. There was nobody out there more in tune with their senses than a Welk.

"Lies."

It's a good thing I wasn't looking in his eyes - for one short moment I was afraid of what I'd see in them. Lies. Just like my captain, a natural at peeling apart stories and pointing out the inconsistencies. Just like her, I'd never be able to pull one over him. The truth was always laid out bare, be it in the tremor of my voice or in the way I held myself. He'd find something in me, pick and nibble and scratch, till I finally-

"What I'm trying to say," he continued after we both took another deep breath; I held mine for as long as he did his, even after my lungs started to ache and burn, "is that you can trust me."

I could trust him. Where was the harm in telling?

"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you?"

I almost laughed, relegating it instead to a short huff of air out of my nose. "And how are you going to do that?"

"I have my ways," his hand dipped lower into my pants. Now his claws where teasing the very edge of my sheath, not enough to get anything out of me but _just_enough to give me pause; "I can be persuasive."

He let his hand do the rest of the talking as he finally pressed two of his fingers into my sheath, rubbing the teasing away at the inside of my sensitive flesh while spreading me out to get at his one true prize, which I could already feel swelling against his touch.

"Fucking... Hah, horny bastard." His hand pulled away, leaving me with nothing but a tickling scratch before settling it back around my midsection. The message was clear - no more until I gave him what he wanted. "F-Fine. Okay."

"Good boy." My ear twitched hard. I wanted to hear him say that again. "Talk to me, Vulp."

Scratching up and down my stomach, stroking its short fur, teasing the slender skin with claws and soft pads. Relax, he seemed to tell me, everything will be okay.

I closed my eyes and pressed back until I'd cradled my head against the crook of his neck, where his rumbling growls and throaty moans filtered directly into my mind. There was the sun's golden heat on my front and the familiar warmth of the Welk at my back, all of it encasing me in a comfortable blanket that, for just a few short seconds, almost made me forget.

Almost.

With a near breathless whisper I said to him, "I lost it," as his hand moved up under my shirt to stroke the fur of my chest, "it's gone, Natél."

"It," he said very quickly after. His chin settled a little more comfortably over my head; "What is it."

I didn't hesitate to reply. To finally say it - this felt good. "A collar."

"A... collar?"

"A collar." With two hands I grabbed on to the middle of his forearm and brought his hand out of my shirt. He let himself be handled, I knew, but I appreciated it all the same. "Black leather. Like... charcoal. Or your fur. It's comfortable." He shifted again, not so tight against my backside anymore, but still close enough that I felt every inch of him and more. "It has a couple of tags on the front, bronze plated. And the leather band is has strips of silver crisscrossing the surface. It... ah..." I took his hand and brought it up until it firmly squeezed against my throat and wrapped around the back of my neck, "... goes here."

When I let go, his hand remained in place. A comfortable, tight, and familiar grip that momentarily tightened as I swallowed and breathed. The tips of his fingers pressed inward as claws scraped and scratched - he enjoyed the sensation of it, of having a Vulper's neck in his hand's strong grip.

I waited patiently for him to squeeze the way only a Welk would know how, so that every breath I took would come in shorter and shorter gasps, till at last I was left with nothing but an empty hole in my lungs. I waited, but it never came. Natél instead massaged my throat with the palm of his hand, and moments afterward dropped it back to my stomach. There wasn't even a sliver of hesitation in his actions.

But there was confusion, along with a mild tone of annoyance in his voice.

"_Your_collar?"

"My collar," I echoed with a slight nod, "that I should be wearing right now."

"Why?"

Why not, I asked myself.

"A gift. It was a - it was a gift." He didn't say anything, not at first. More than anything, I think he was confused. Trying to understand the purpose of the collar, maybe, but I didn't have any good answers for him.

"It's that important?"

"Very. It needed to be here. And it isn't." I looked up to him, the tip of my nose teasing the bottom of his jaw, "Or is it?"

"No." He almost seemed reluctant to say it. "You didn't even come in with a collar, Vulp. Believe me, I'd have known."

He would have asked.

"Fuck." Blood - I could taste it on the inside of my lip. Nipping and nibbling. Didn't realize it until I'd cut my lip open. "Fuck she's going to -"

"She?"

"- kill me. I told her I'd find it, I... I thought it'd be -"

"Vulp?"

"- here. It was supposed to be here, Natél. Now it's fucking... gods be damned, I don't know where the hell it is!"

"Vulp!" His bark must have been heard all through the district. Several people stopped and stared up at our balcony. The busy chatter of the crowds below momentarily dimmed as they waited and listened.

Natél effortlessly picked me up with both hands - once I couldn't feel the ground below my feet, I quickly settled into the strength of his arms. Surprisingly enough, it didn't hurt. He held me with as much care as he would a glass vase. I must have weighed nothing to him, a feather in one's hand. The Welk dexterously turned me and sat me on the railing, both hands on firm support to keep me from tittering forward or falling back.

And that look in his eyes - such a familiar annoyance I'd seen before. A look that turned me quiet and stilled my thoughts.

"Shut. Up."

I held myself still, and found it impossible to look away.

"Calm down."

"I'm calm."

"Your heart is about to explode." He squeezed me tight. "Breathe."

"I..."

"Breathe," he commanded, and on reflex I did as he said. I breathed, and listened, and tried getting lost in anything that wasn't myself. "Are you going to stop babbling?"

"I'm sorry."

"Who gave you this collar?"

"My captain," I said as one of those large hands carefully moved to cup my cheek. Large and warm and soft. His thumb teased my bottom lip as the rest of his fingers curled around my jaw.

"Your captain." His hold on my cheek tightened. The thumb carefully pulled my lip back - he sighed after a quickly glance at the inside of it. Did he see the blood? "The one who was going to, how did you put it... kill you for being late?"

"That was a..."

"_That_captain?"

"She's not like-"

"Same one that you just said is going to kill you now?"

"It's-"

"And has you doing, what? Running around town in a collar like an animal?"

"Natél. It's not... it's not what you think." I could see it - he didn't believe me.

"She owns you, doesn't she?" His words lingered. He let go of my lip and held my by the small of my back as another hand came down to my thigh. His features softened.

Even as I pressed my hands to his chest and took a calming breath, I could feel and see my fingers trembling. He continued talking - could see his lips moving but there were no words. Just that oddly intense ringing in my ears. And then -

"What the fuck are you saying."

Natél stopped. His eyes came back to mine. Those hands stopped caressing me and instead resumed their tight hold.

"_Nobody_owns me. Captain Alva -"

"So her name's Alva."

"She doesn't own me!" I pushed, yet all that did is almost tip me over the railing. His hands held me in place, and the Welk didn't budge. "I... I'm there by choice."

"You don't sound so sure to me, Vulp." Suddenly, I hated the way he said my name. Vulp. As if it really weren't my own.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You barely even - let go of me!"

"Calm down."

"You barely even know me!"

"I know you enough," he kept himself calm and controlled - it was infectious. The fight in me, what little there was to begin with, was gone as quickly as it started. The Welk nodded and finally said, "Let me help you."

"You want to help me?"

"It's important to you." I felt the growl in his chest. "I don't... understand it very much."

"No," I interrupted, admittedly a little colder than I'd intended, "you really don't."

"But it's important to you, right?"

"More than you know."

"Then it's important to me."

So sure of himself. His mind had been made up minutes ago, I realized. And yet... "Don't you ever say that again." I pressed my finger into his chest, jabbing my claw into his skin. It must have hurt, why wouldn't it? And yet he didn't flinch, and just looked at me with that same soft stare. "Nobody owns me. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly."

Deep breath - I knew he meant nothing wrong by it. But it still hurt - he was just lucky that I was the Vulper he'd said that to. "Why help me?"

"Because."

"Because...?" I waited. He didn't say anything. Just... stared at me, as if he were still looking for answers in my eyes.

"Because I can. Because I want to. Because that's what I said I'm going to do, and you can't really do much about it, Vulper." A proper Imperial Welk who took what he wanted and didn't let others sway his mind. He breathed against my lips - such a hot breath of air, as humid as the Port Ronald's tropical heat. "Unless you can prove to me that you don't need my help."

"And how would I do that?" I still had my finger pressed against his chest, claw digging but never breaking his skin. I pulled it away and massaged the area with my palm. If he hadn't been holding me so tight, I probably would have kissed it too.

"Fight me."

"Fight you?" I scoffed, laughed, and turned my head away. Then he growled, and nodded, and forced me to look at him again.

He was serious.

A show of strength? Against a Welk? Maybe as a Sommerian, or even a Perenisian, but... "You're not being fair, Natél." He knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing.

I couldn't help but fall for it. Natél could be a blunt ass, but it came from a good place. At least, that's the impression I got. I decided better to hold on to that than search any further for a truth I did not want.

"Life hardly plays fair."

"What's the catch?"

"Always a catch with you Vulpers, isn't there?"

"Life hardly hands out help without a catch." He smiled, if only slightly, and came in closer to me as I pulled an arm around his torso. As I tasted his breath I lifted my head and stared at his muzzle, those lips, and that wet tongue that often peeked between them. Even as I lost myself in him, I felt the need to ask again, "What's the catch, Natél?"

"You come with me somewhere first." I started to voice my protest and -

Black lips fell on mine. Large, soft, warm. The taste of honey in them. And then a tongue, hot muscle that fell out from his muzzle so he could rub it against my mouth. Just a quick flick, but enough that I knew I'd be tasting him for the next few hours.

I could feel his cocky grin against me as he said, "You owed me that."

"Don't tell me," I was gasping for breath. Gasping? Like I'd ran halfway around The Port. He stole my breath; "that you're going to stop there." I gripped his fur a little tighter. "More."

"So demanding," he teased, and almost licked my lips again. Almost - The Welk instead held his muzzle against my snout as large nostrils flared to take in a deep lungful of my scent; "What does the Vulper want?"

"Everything." Without a second thought I licked and then nibbled on his bottom lip, listening for any clues of his satisfaction. A hum, and sharp breath of air, and a soft exhale as I licked and nipped again. Let me in, I tried to say, but he didn't budge. Just held still and allowed me to do what I wanted - anything except taste his tongue and feel him explore the inside of my mouth.

He didn't play fair.

"I can do that," his hand squeezed by back, then came lower and lower until it held tight to my tail, "and more. You still owe me a good fuck, Vulp. But first you come with me -"

"To the bed," I finished, and shivered as he stroked my tail.

"Outside." I could almost feel my disappointment, and yet that didn't stop me from pressing another kiss against his lips. Temping him, so desperately trying to tempt him into doing anything. "I want to go for a walk."

I gave him another kiss, another lick, another stroke of his fur as one hand fell over my scalp. I held him tight and breathed in his scent as he undid the knot of my bandana to let it slip between his fingers. And then, as he finally returned the gesture by pressing a large kiss against my mouth, I said, "Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere." His hand fell on my head, right between my twitching ear and the snub where the other should have been. "Somewhere."

"Not very specific, Natél."

"And?" He seemed to think that it really didn't matter. "Just come with me. I need the fresh air. Looks to me like you need it as well." He eased back. I instantly felt cold. "It won't take long. Trust me. And after all that, you and I will look for that collar, okay?"

"If that's really what you want," he nodded - not quite excitedly, but he was pleased nonetheless - as I took the bandana from his hands, "then fine."

"In the meantime," he stepped back to the balcony's threshold, and gave me the full view of the body I'd found myself so desperately craving, "tell me more about this captain of yours. Captain Alva. She sounds..." Natél paused, his face painfully twisting up as if he were trying and failing to get the right word out, "interesting."

***

He didn't all seem bothered by the fact that he walked with his arm wrapped around my shoulder. He didn't flinch at the odd looks we got as we moved step-in-step with one another. He didn't complain about how his legs hurt when trying to keep pace with my smaller strides, nor did he ask me to push myself to go faster as we started heading up the steeper inclines of Port Ronald's inner roads.

Natél was just... there. My companion - a constant presence that urged me along but never tried to push me too far. He didn't mind getting his pristine black coat and leather-padded trousers dirtied as he rubbed up against me, as long as he held me close to his side.

And if anyone so much as tried to look at us the wrong way? He stared them down, unblinking, with lips curled back and a snarl forming in his chest. He'd hold me all the more tightly, and turn us so that they could get a good look at the two of us.

Not that it was such a strange sight. I'd seen Vulpers with others before, Perenisians and Sommerians, and even a few Welks here and there. But just like seeing a Vulper out on the streets, the sight of one paired to another was one of the rarer things one could see.

Paired. It felt so natural to think of it that way now - it didn't change the fact that we were still strangers to one another. Maybe he didn't see it that way; just a casual fling or a good fuck. I decided it best to make the most of what I had for now.

The only time in which Natél would pull away from me was when I started talking about my captain, and that was only because he prompted me to do so. I could see it in his eyes, and in the way his jaw would clench, and how he'd momentarily lose his focus or step too harshly - my captain did not sit well in his mind.

And that was my fault. I hadn't given off the best first impression, but I did try to correct my mistakes. At the end of the day, I didn't want Natél to think any less of her.

"I respect her," I explained to him as we worked our way through Port Ronald's twisting streets and dark alleys, "just as I do you. And she - she respects me just as well."

We were a team, after all. A partnership that's lasted for two years of my life - perhaps the most exciting years I've ever had. When I told him as such he simply rolled his eyes and scoffed, though it didn't feel to me like he was mocking what I'd said. Rather he found it hard to believe that I'd think so highly of my captain.

"You were terrified this morning," he said to me as we were guided along by the smells of freshly baked bread and shallow-fried chunks of salted meat. His hand fell flat to my back, scratching and rubbing above my shirt as he held me close to his side. I could feel that large bushy tail of his drily smacking against my rear with every other step that he took; "If you hadn't said it, then I would have seen it in your eyes."

"Not terrified," I corrected him after swallowing a lump in my throat, "far-far beyond that, actually. I was just... concerned."

"Concerned?"

"Yes! Concerned. My captain, she's very punctual. And I'd promised her that I would meet at the ship early in the morning. I didn't want her to -"

Long and drawn-out pause. I hadn't meant it. But the word almost slipped my tongue - I didn't want her to get angry. It wouldn't... he wouldn't have understood.

"Wouldn't want her to... what?"

"To keep her waiting," I said, a half-truth, as turned my head up to him, and smiled. Another lie he probably saw right through, but Natél didn't comment on it. He didn't understand - wouldn't understand without having spent as much time as I had with her - but I did not want him to think any less of her.

Captain Alva deserved better than that.

"And what about the collar? You were... scared." Not terrified. Scared. He was being very_careful about the words he chose. Probably thought that I wouldn't catch on that, or maybe he expected me to. "Explain that." And _that felt more like a challenge to my excuses.

Not excuses. Explanations.

"Concern."

"Again?"

"Tell me something-" We slipped into another alley, where the walls rose so high the sun's light couldn't reach its depths. "Have you ever disappointed someone?"

"Plenty of times." So nonchalant about it - a mere fact of life, and nothing worth troubling oneself about. As Imperial in thought as he could get.

"Someone you really cared about?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you understand - maybe you understand - that I didn't want to disappoint her. I_don't_ want to disappoint her. I wasn't scared, I was just... worried. That's all. Worried and concerned."

I could feel a hot layer of sweat clinging to my clothes as we finally slipped out of the alley. It was a fresh of breath air to see a road that wasn't as densely populated as many of the streets we'd just cut across. That was the main draw of the Upper District, not so many markets up here, and far removed from The Port's usual excited energy.

"If you met her," I said to him as we came to a set of steps leading up to a squat two-floor building; one of the cleaner places I'd seen from an outside glace - even the walls had been recently repainted in a light blue colour reminiscent of a foamy sea, "talked with her for a few hours, listened to what she had to say, then maybe you'd see. She's not... she's not bad, Natél. Far beyond that, my captain is just - she's a little difficult to understand. Rough around the edges. But what sailor isn't, right?"

There was a short pause. His head cocked left and right, those large and wide ears monetarily twitched, and then he looked at me with a very plain, although very serious, stare.

"You aren't," he said to me, as if his statement had been as much of a fact as the air we breathed and the ground we walked on. Natél pushed me up the stairs, lagging only a few steps behind, just as I stuttered to form a reply, "wait for me here."

"Wait - where are you going?"

"To get something done." He paused at the building's threshold, stooped so low it must have hurt his back, with his head so cast into shadow that I couldn't even see his eyes as he glanced back at me. "Chores. It won't take long." And so without another word, Natél disappeared into the building, leaving me with nothing but the relative silence of the Upper District as a fresh sea breeze blew in from the harbor.

Where the Golden Trident reminded me of fresh herbs, silk, honey, and wine, this nameless building conjured images of my days at the Academy, and the many nights that I spent in its cramped infirmary, back when sailing the seas was the last thing that'd crossed my mind - when my entire life was the Academy.

When I breathed, I remembered all those smells I used to be greeted with while walking down those narrow, isolated, barren hallways. The tell-tale stench of rubbing alcohol, to which I very nearly sneezed as a phantom of that scent whiffed my nose. And the more I'd walk, the stronger that stench grew. I couldn't quite place where it came from - be it one of the many laboratories, or either of the grand kitchens were stews of potato and fish were constantly boiling, or the inside of those pristine lecture rooms where an academic silence lay entirely undisturbed.

It burned the back of my throat and sat oddly in the pit of my stomach. And... there it was as well. I just had to close my eyes and really think back to those days, so that I could get that mortifying and all-encompassing stench: burnt flesh, but not quite like the meats that cooked just a few streets downwind; and a sickly smell of something acidic and bitter, almost like the spill of my stomach when I first tried getting used to the violent rocking of the open sea, but much more concentrated with its burning intensity; then there was... butter? The smell of freshly churned butter everywhere.

"I hate this place." The words left me before I could think of what I'd said as Natél peeked through the shadow of the building's interior much like the creature of some long-forgotten nightmare. His brow furrowed tight as I turned, arms crossed flat against my chest, to look at him with an unrestrained sourness to my expression. I said to him, with a bitter snap to my voice, "Are you done?"

Already I felt the guilt of my words, even if Natél didn't seem particularly hurt - or phased, on that matter - by my cold reception to his return.

But Natél spoke nothing of the matter as he guided me back through the Upper District, as silent as he'd ever been as we closed in on the harbor. He kept himself two paces ahead of me, slowing down and speeding up accordingly. It was only once I'd cleared my throat and asked if everything went alright - I should have done so as soon as we left that doctor's practice - that Natél swiveled his large head around so he could glare at me.

Not glare - just a passing glance. I couldn't help but see a little bit of _her_in him. In a way, all Welks shared that in common.

Had we gone any farther up, we would have hit upon Port Ronald's outskirts. Natél explained it to me as such, as if I'd never lived in this town before and did not know about what went on inside those hovels and shacks. He pointed up one of the roads and told me, very plainly, that I should avoid going there.

"Lots of trouble," he said to me as we turned our back and began snaking our way back down to the harbor, "Worse than the Harbor District."

"It's really that bad?" It was, but I could see that Natél found some odd satisfaction in explaining this to me. Like some form of tour guide - playing along was fun as well. He didn't have to know that I'd practically grown up here. "Can't be worse than the other isles."

"The Port isn't." He deliberately paused, and with a comically exaggerated gesture jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "That place isn't The Port."

"And where should I go then?"

"Stick to the Trident."

"Of course," I replied with a roll of my eyes and a small smile. Such a simple little comment, but that was enough to pull me out of whatever rut that last stop had left me in.

He brought me along to a small market that primarily dealt with fabrics of all kinds, some whose names I couldn't even pronounce, and others with a texture so foreign that I could only have thought of them in a dream. In there he met another Welk who manned one of the dozens of stalls, and under the shadow of the canopy the two began to talk with one another.

I only caught brief glimpses of their conversation. Entirely in Welkish, with Natél greeting the other as "Avashe," with no attempt at hiding his contempt, while the other just solemnly nodded and replied with the appropriate greeting, "Garel."

Fertal - Welkish for 'silk'. Natél had a handful of the fabric in his hands, richly golden. Then a quickfire of words, questions perhaps, before the other shook his head and dismissed my companion with a wave of his hand.

Olypeth - Too pricey. Expensive? One or the other, or perhaps they could be used interchangeably. Natél wasn't buying at that price.

Then there was a hiss, and a snarl, as the merchant slammed a fat fist against the wood of his stall, nearly rattling the small construct apart.

Nioth - That was... undercut. To cheat someone. To lie? Even in context, the use of that word made little sense to me. I was still trying to decipher it when a flurry of heated exchanges occurred.

Fah - Same word repeated over and over again; a way of saying that things were alright. No hard feelings. After a heated exchange, the merchant was backing off.

"Ten," said Natél in sudden Sommerian, to which the other scoffed and crossed his arms with an audible, pah! "No more."

"Ten! Kallus tormal." No idea what that meant. "Cannot do that."

"Yes you can." From his pockets Natél fished out a pouch, wherein ten scraps of copper clattered into his waiting palm, which he offered with what I took was the Welk's equivalent of a sly and victorious smile. "Ten."

And just like that, the exchange was over and done with. The merchant sat back on the chair of his stall and glanced at me with a dissatisfied squint as Natél waved me along back out of that market, the silk draped around his forearm.

"And all that?" I asked him, to which he shrugged, as if it had been no bother at all.

"He was trying to cheat me," he said. A little displeased it seemed, but not entirely cross.

"You handled it pretty well - I think."

He chuckled at that, such a rolling mellow laughter, as he brought an arm around my shoulders to hold me close to his side. I could feel the beating of his tail with every step he took - this was good. "Want to know the trick?"

"Trick?" I looked up at him - he just stared on, single-focused on a building coming up just a few streets away.

"Mhm." His smile grew a little wider. I could see the whites of his teeth shining between his lips. "Strength, Vulp," I could feel his arm flexing around my body, "and if you have to pretend, then make a show of it."

Strength. It's like he often forget that he was talking to a Vulper.

"Don't overthink it," he said, once again demonstrating his prowess at reading my face, "Just don't let yourself be pushed around. Simple, hm?"

"When you put things that way, anything can sound simple."

"Because most things are simple," he finished off with a slight tap of my shoulder, "It's people who complicate matters."

And yet again, he left me out on the street to venture deep into some other unmarked building. This one, at least, sat better with me. Now that we were closer to the harbor, the streets were once again filled with that wonderful, wandering choir of noise. I focused on that instead, and on the people who bobbed and weaved this way and that as I settled onto the steps of the building Natél went into.

The shadows of surrounding buildings were just starting to stretch out across the roads as the sun began to settle into the western horizon. They painted strange murals on the walls, mismatched shapes both circular and sharp that crawled along brick and stone with every passing minute, sucking out the light and leaving behind a cool, terrifying darkness.

Things were finally starting to cool off. It didn't really dawn on me that so much time had passed since Natél left me out here - it was easy to fall into that trance of watching the world go by. There was always something worth looking at when you just stopped for a moment to take it all in.

And while it was a distraction - as much of one as the entire day I'd spent walking the streets with Natél - I could not keep my thoughts from lingering on that damned collar. It kept popping into my head, the thoughts of what Captain Alva would say to me if I didn't return with it in hand - more accurately, I couldn't keep myself from thinking of what she would do.

It was impossible to tell. The more I mulled it over in my head, the more ridiculous the scenarios became. Had anyone else peeked into my thoughts, they would have thought me as having gone mad. Sensibility and reason were tossed into the sea, so that all which remained was that strange erratic behaviour I'd grown so used to living with.

She would leave me if I came back empty-handed. No amount of wine and vodka would be able to fix this mistake. Just the thought of it almost made me nauseous - bloating in my stomach, gassy in the depths of my throat. Anything else I could live with, anything at all. Even if it meant that -

"Still here?" He seemed surprised, and if anything, satisfied at finding me waiting at the steps. How long had he been standing there for? Not just arrived, since I could already feel the warmth of his body in mine. Several minutes at best, standing in contemplative silence.

Everything in me creaked and groaned as I moved to stand beside the Welk. A hand grasped me by the underside of my arm to get me up faster. "You asked me to wait," I said with a refreshing breath of air as I looked to the fabric he had bundled in his other hand - the same as the one he'd purchased a few hours ago, but it looked like he'd made some changes to it. "What's that?"

"Something." I rolled my eyes at the vagueness of his response, "come with me."

"Where now?"

"Last stop."

"Where?"

I already knew what he was going to say, and mouthed the words just seconds before he spoke them: "Does it matter?"

This final stop wasn't so far from where he'd made me wait. No buildings or markets, but a narrow alley that had been left surprisingly unspoiled, as if people didn't really know that it existed, or somehow it had been mercifully spared of Port Ronald's all-encompassing gunk.

Not that it was entirely undisturbed. The rotting stench of unseen trash was as bad here as it could be anywhere else in The Port, and the walls themselves were moist with the condensed humidity of our stuffy surroundings.

Here, then, was when Natél finally stopped and turned to look at me. When we were finally deep inside the alley, where to either side of us one could see the streets and the people who passed by but never quite had a look beside a sparing glance or doubtful glare.

The Welk pressed a large hand against the centre of my chest and pushed, hard, till the fur on my neck was tickled by the moisture of brick wall, so that I was trapped - in some sense of the phrase - between a rock and a hard place.

"And this?" I asked him somewhat nervously as his gaze lingered on me. So much seriousness in those eyes, with that underlying hint of care and passion he couldn't quite keep control of. Everything was hot, my clothes felt bothersome, but I dared not even squirm as the Welk continued to silently loom overhead like some deathly shadow.

I had an idea - an inkling - of what he wanted, and why he'd brought me here. I could almost feel it in the way his fingers squeezed against the rough fabric of my hole-riddled shirt, feeling me up the way he'd done just the night before, inside of that bathing room.

Just his type, that's what he'd said to me. It didn't really affect me when he had said it - so many things had gone over my head as I'd lusted over the Welk and struggled to keep my wine-addled thoughts upright. But now I could really feel_those words. Natél didn't have to say it again for me to feel that hot rush of blood on my cheeks; to feel a lot hotter than I should have. Uncomfortable, yet pleasantly content with staying _right here for the rest of the night.

He finally breathed - even after a day of walking, his breath was still fresh and crisp - and said to me, "How do you feel?"

"Good," I replied far too quickly. Had to pace myself. Needed to think. Gods, the Welk made it hard to think; "Better now."

"That's good." Genuine relief in his voice. "You looked a little annoyed today. Just wanted to make sure that -" he paused, as if those next few words weren't worth saying, and then said, "Got something for you, Vulp."

"If you're planning on -" he quieted me by pressing a long finger against my slender snout. Enough out of me, then. All I had to do was sit, and watch, and listen. Not impossible to do, but having him so close to me was simply... distracting. It took everything I had to keep myself from feeling him up - to tease my fingers into his coat, rub above that soft shirt, and touch the fur and muscle underneath.

How desperate I felt for this Welk - to feel his touch and his tender caress, and to experience that flicker of flame that was his rougher nature that he so easily flipped onto. So starved I was for him, that even his simple stare was enough to stir a longing in my loins.

"Shh," he mused, smile growing as his other hand came to my head. Claws tapped at my skull and scratched my flattened ear, then felt around for the knot of my white bandana; "Just sit quiet for a second." It came undone just seconds afterward, slipping between his fingers and scratching the back of my neck, as if it were the fabric's last desperate attempt at remaining clasped to my head.

"Fine, I -"

"Quiet."

"Hmph."

There was that fabric again, gold white, wrapped in inside of his hand. When he told me to hold it, I did with so with the fear that it would crumble to dust in my hands. It wasn't until he gave me that expectant stare - almost like a dog, though gods forbid I ever say that out loud to a Welk - that I finally understood the meaning of his actions.

"You didn't have to." He knew that. He did it anyway.

The only time I'd ever held on to something that was so soft - so very expensive - was when I handled the supplies that my captain and I would normally ferry between the islands. This was the kind of thing I never even bothered to look at while strolling through the stalls. And yet here it was, in the palms of my hands. A gift, and for reasons I'd never understand.

Natél plucked it with two quick fingers as I moved to place that bandana over my head, gave me a slight shake of his head, and then crouched low enough so that he could be at eye-level with me. Even like this, the Welk was still a large and intimidating figure. His tail scraped itself across the dusty alley road as he said, somewhat solemnly I think, but also very seriously, "One last thing."

For some reason, I didn't like the way he was looking at him. How his eyes kept dashing up, over and over again, as his frown deepened with every passing second, till he was left with a rather grim look about him. There was little I could do about that - I wasn't even sure on what brought on the change, beside the passing thought that it had something to do with me.

Against my better judgement I asked him, "What's the matter?"

To which Natél replied without a hint of hesitation, "What happened to you?" And then he reached up and, carefully so, placed his hand atop my head. Fingers teased my one ear, scratching till it buzzed against my skull, before his hand fell flat on that jagged and scarred snub.

"We're really doing this now?" I glanced around without turning my head. He held me in a tight grip. "Here?" So straight to the point too - little transition, no time to ease into this sudden change of conversation. I should have been used to it by now, with two years of dealing with a Welk under my belt, yet it always caught me off-guard.

"I want to know." He stared at it for some time, at the snub where my ear used to be, as the other agitatedly twitched and flicked as if to shoo away a fly. "Why did she take it?"

"She?_Who in hells are you - Oh, you are _not saying -"

"I am." Eyes narrowed. Nostrils flared. He was dead serious. "The bitch you call a captain."

"You fucker," I snarled, and yet he didn't so much as blink as I took a fistful of his fur from around his neck and - gods be damned, there was nothing I could do to him that he couldn't do to me. "Take that back."

"No." The Welk cocked his head to the side, and for a quick moment his eyes wavered. Instead of looking at me straight on, he glanced down at my chest and stomach, then up again till they fell on my lips. Even in the face of these indignant accusations, I couldn't help my own heat, nor did my body allow me to ignore how good it felt to be near him.

Fuck this Welk.

I glanced sideways at the road to our left as shadows passed us by. Someone was listening to our conversation; there was no such thing as privacy in The Port's streets. But Natél didn't seem the least bit worried over it. In fact, I'd have wagered that he would have been very pleased with himself if the rest Port Ronald listened to these... accusations.

"Baseless!" I spat with a stamp of my boot on muddy ground. "Accusations - is that all you have to say for her?"

"No. I have plenty more."

"_What_is the matter with you? Why do you have it out for my captain so -"

"Why'd she take your ear?" I flinched as he brought the back of his hand to my face - it gave him pause, and then he gently put his hand to my cheek, caressed the fur, itched the skin underneath, until I was almost melting under his touch. If I hadn't been pinned so tightly to the wall, I'd have felt my tail wagging to and fro. Undoubtedly the reaction he wanted out of me. Now it was my turn to feel like the dog. There was that warm feeling in me again, and that tingling sensation where he touched me, like being jolted by a dull bolt of lightning. "Don't lie to me."

"She didn't... you're wrong."

"Vulp," my name rolled off his tongue so nicely. His fingers kept teasing my soft fur, now moving down to the fluff around my neck, which he grabbed at in a clump, "why do you protect her?" What use was there in lying when he'd already learned the truth long before it'd come from my lips. Something I did, or mentioned, or acted out - and it went without saying that Natél had already convinced himself of the fact, of this I was certain.

"She's done me no wrong," I said, and added after a careful breath of his powerful scent, "Captain Alva took my ear, but not for the reasons that you would understand. It was a..." Why did my throat feel so dry? Why did it hurt to breathe? Why did he treat me like this?

"Don't tell me you had to do it." So much tension in his voice, like those strong chest muscles, or bulging forearms. His thumb gently rubbed right under my eye, then teased against my snout, and pressed itself below my small moist nose. I took a deep breath of it - he smelled just like I did - and gave one of his fingers a quick and gentle lick just so I could taste him on my tongue again. It amused him, if anything only serving as confirmation for the two of us that I wasn't really angry at this line of questioning.

I could pout and yell and pretend all I wanted. At the end of the day, Natél had me wrapped around his fingers. All it had taken was a gift, a day of attention, and one of the best nights of my life. Either I was easy, or he was just _that_good.

"You..." Don't let go. I didn't want him to let go. Just a little longer - that gentle touch I didn't know a Welk could have. A touch I hadn't known that I needed to feel until this very moment, right here, right now; "don't understand."

"Then help me understand."

I repeated myself again, or tried to at least. Again, that dry feeling against the back of my throat. Sand in my lungs. "It was a necessity."

He scoffed.

"I had to prove my loyalty."

"Your_loyalty_?"

"Yes!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"I know it sounds... it sounds excessive -"

"Oh, really?"

"- but you have to believe me when I say that there was no ill-will when it happened. I... I just had to prove myself to her - somehow." It looked like he stopped himself from saying something. "So I... I did as she asked of me."

"She took your ear."

"She didn't raise a finger!" I almost pushed him away - almost. If it hadn't been for the warmth of his body, or his teasing touch around my neck, or that thumb rubbing across my lips whenever I didn't speak, then I'd have tried to get away. "I did it, Natél."

"Gods above..."

"And besides," I continued as I finally pressed a hand to his chest, trying to get him to relax. It didn't really work; "what's an ear to a life, right?" The way he looked at me, weary eyes, confused as to what I'd meant. So I clarified for him, in as simple a way as I could put it. "She gave me the second chance I needed. Don't you understand that? Took me out of that - took me out of someplace bad. Gave me a life. What's an ear to all that?"

But I had to stop myself. I could see it in him - Natél wasn't understanding me. Just digging a deeper hole for myself, and reaffirming the beliefs he already held about my captain. His mind was made up, and there was very little I could do to sway him.

"Let's just... move on?" I said as I pressed my other hand to his chest. Both hands now, dwarfed by the broadness of his body. Fingers spread outward in every direction as I tried to massage that hard stone-like muscle underneath his rich fabrics of cloth. "Please. It doesn't bother me, and that was so very long ago. Why should it bother you?"

"Because I care about you," he said plainly, allowing me to bring my hands up and around that massive neck, so that I could dig my fingers into the thick mane of soft and now-damp fur.

"I can take care of myself," I replied.

"Clearly," he added rather coldly while looking at my ear.

"She won't harm me. She doesn't harm me. She's never harmed me." What more could I say to him? What else was there that would ease that troubled mind. "The things she does are - those things happen for a reason."

"She_disfigured_ you, Vulp." Desperation, or something similar to that, in his voice. "That's a crime in the Empire."

"We're not in the Empire," I replied, "and if you want to see it that way, then fine. Yes, I am disfigured,"

"That's not what I... I did not mean to..." For the first time in my life, I'd seen a Welk stutter and stumbled in with his words - and I'd been the one to cause it. Even with everything he made me feel, above all else I couldn't help that deep-set sense of satisfaction.

I hushed him quite thoroughly by pressing my lips to his own; a few second's worth of contact, just so that he'd stop. "And it wasn't she who did it - I _disfigured_myself. As far as I know, that isn't a crime anywhere in the known world. So relax. Don't think about it so much." With a quick flick of my hand I traced the length of his jaw, till the tip of my index finger reached the end of his chin. "But thank you for caring, even if it is a little unwarranted."

"Hardly unwarranted," he argued, but I could see that the fight in his voice was gone. I'd won - as close to winning as one could get from such a small point of contention. It still bothered him, that much was obvious, but at least... "I don't like it, Vulp." He finally backed off, leaving me with only a small flick of his finger against the tip of my chin that dragged me along with his body. The air was cool and clear now that I wasn't trapped in his heavy heat. "Argh... just be careful around her."

"Nothing to be careful about," I said to him as we slipped beside one another, "been with her for two years. I respect her, and she respects me. It's as simple as that."

"Simple. Right."

It_was_ simple. He said it himself, it was people that complicated matters.

"Are you... are you still going to help me?" I turned my head up. He was just staring down the alley, rigid as a rock. "The collar. You said -"

"I'm going to help," he snapped, then immediately softened up when I almost pulled away from him, "for you, not her. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly." I smiled at him; a small, dry smile - I couldn't shake the feeling that things hadn't really been cleared up all that well. "Thank you, Natél."

Admittedly, it wasn't much of a search.

Natél at least tried. The only reason he tagged along with me, aimlessly wandering the snaking streets, casting our eyes about in whichever direction pleased our fancy, was because he was trying to ease my own worries. For that I was more than thankful - he really didn't have to go through such mind-numbing lengths, especially after having made clear his distaste for anything that had to do with my captain.

But I'd known from the beginning of the day, since the moment that I failed to find the collar inside the Trident, that things wouldn't look up. If it wasn't there - and that was the most secure place I could think of - then it really was gone.

Ironically enough, the more the hours passed and the closer the sun came upon the sea's golden horizon, the less worried I seemed to feel. Anxiety gave way to a powerlessness I hadn't felt in a very long time - that sensation where you just... accepted what was going to come. Even if I didn't know what it would be, the best I could do was prepare for the worst and dimly hope for the best.

It almost felt like I was trying to lie to myself.

Yet for as long as Natél remained by my side I tried my best to not let it show. I told him of the places I'd been to before we first met at the Trident, and diligently enough he brought me along from one place to the next, scanning and watching and turning this way and that whenever we spotted something that even vaguely resembled the collar I'd described.

By the time we called it quits, the sun had almost set over the horizon. Some shops closed, others opened, and the road that ran the length of the harbor fell into a temporary state of tranquility. In about an hour things would pick up again.

"Sorry for wasting your time," I said to him in as brief of an apology as I could muster as Natél and I settled onto a solitary bench. To my right I could see the Winding Gale, though I said nothing to him of the matter - the last thing I needed now was for Natél to know that my captain was just a stone's throw away from us.

"It wasn't a waste," he reassured.

"A whole day." I hesitated to ask, "Won't you get in trouble at the Trident?"

"The Trident? Why would I -" His eyes widened for a moment as his muzzle came apart. Then a chuckle, a soft sigh, and he said, "Oh, that. Right. No, I won't get in trouble."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said rather flatly, and left it at that.

A few minutes of silence. We watched a couple of people walk by us, merchants getting ready to set up for the night shift, and some sailors coming back home after a night of drinking and fucking. I could almost smell the sex on them.

I cleared my throat and, rather slowly, inched a little closer to him. Not enough to get into his space if he didn't want it, but just the right distance so that I could feel the comforting warmth of his body beside mine. "You know, it's a wonder that -"

"I don't work there." He said it slowly, pacing out every little word, so that I wouldn't miss any of it. The tone of his voice had that inflection to it, as he were trying to tell me, you should have figured this out. "Does that bother you?"

Did it? I looked at him and thought back to the rest of today, and the gift he'd gotten me that I'd wrapped around my head, and everything he did to me when we first met. No, the lie didn't bother me. He saw it on my face before I said it, because I saw his smile widen and ears twitch, and his nostrils flared wide while taking in a deep breath of satisfaction.

At least, that's how it looked like to me.

"You're still here," I said to him while trying to match his smile, "so it doesn't really matter much, does it?"

"I'm sure it would matter to some."

"You came clean about it." I shrugged. "But... why were you there?"

"I know the owner," he explained to me quickly, "we're good friends in the Empire. He lets me stay whenever I want. Get to have my fun. Have an actual bed to sleep in whenever I visit The Port."

"Visiting The Port." Couldn't help but latch on to that. "Means you'll be leaving sometime?"

"Sometime," he said, "after I'm through with work."

"What do you do?" I asked.

Natél just shook his head and said in as soft a voice as the Welk could muster, "I'm looking for somebody."

"Must be pretty important then," I mused after another few minutes of contemplative silence, "having to come all the way from the mainland to... find someone, was it?" He nodded. "Well, I hope it's going well!"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

The finality of his tone made it clear - not my business.

He turned away. Suddenly - and strangely enough - Natél visibly deflated. As if something terrible weighed on his mind. The grin gone in an instant. His bushy tail motionless. Those large ears nearly falling flat - nearly.

Before I could comment, the Welk abruptly stood and paced a few feet away from me, arms crossed tight to his chest, a visible growl shaking the very foundations of his core. I didn't to stand with him; something about the way he held himself made me think it wouldn't be right to touch him, nor ask what was happening.

Then he silently pointed at no particular spot down the harbor - it was hard to tell in the encroaching darkness. "There's a ship docked there. It's where I'm staying." I couldn't see the ship, but I trusted his words.

"Something the matter?" That look he gave, sideways glance... more like a glare.

"None." And just before I could reach for his shoulder, he abruptly stood and said to me, "I'll expect you there tomorrow morning. Okay?"

"W-Wait." I blinked, then asked, "Expect me... where?"

"My ship. Meet me a little before midday." A pause. That tension in his body finally eased off a little. "I want to talk to you about something."

"That... alright." Instead of standing, I settled into the spot where he'd sat. His Welkish warmth remained, hot to the touch, as if he were still sitting there. Such a sudden change in mood - beside that one small glare, Natél didn't so much as look at me. "That sounds... okay?"

"Good."

"Hey, wait!" I pointed to myself - Natél turned came back to me, perhaps a little reluctantly. With a small wave of my hand I flagged him down until we were near eye-level with each other. It was then that I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, as tight of a hold as I could muster, and pressed my lips to his own.

It was a gentle kiss at first - I had meant it to be gentle, but Natél had other ideas. I felt his growl and heard his snarl, and with little hesitation he opened his mouth to force mine apart, so that he could push his tongue into my snout. I moaned into him, loving the taste of the Welk, and sucked on his tongue for a minute, till my jaw ached and every bit of my body throbbed with need.

Then the other way around. He practically pulled me into his mouth, where I freely explored every tooth and rubbed against his tongue, savouring his taste, enjoying it just as much as when he'd been inside mine.

"You owed me that one," I said to him, breathless, and finally caught the faint look of a smile in him. Looks like he needed that - felt good to see I'd done something for him. "I'll see you tomorrow, hm?"

"Yeah." He gulped, then sighed, and turned away without so much as a hug or a final word of goodbye.

And just like that, the Welk was gone.

***

It should have sat oddly with me, Natél's strange behaviour, but the moment he was gone my mind had turned to other things.

The church. Sister Ada was probable waiting for me.

One quick stop at a nearby stall, where a trader was still dealing in herbs so late into the night. He was Perenisian, just like the Sister, but his fur was one solid streak of soft cream. He smiled at me, with that look that everyone got when first seeing a Vulper so close to them, and introduced himself as Elias. He'd lived here all his life and had no interest in leaving Port Ronald.

He also talked a lot - far more than he should have for a someone who just wanted some mint leaves. But I listened to him with a careful smile, nodding along to everything he said, till I dropped a few pieces of copper onto his waiting palm.

I chewed on those mint leaves, one after another, while on my trek back to the cliffside church.

As if to announce its sudden presence, the bell tolled its heavy song. It was at the turn of this hour, once I'd made the long trek up to the cliffside, past the sun setting over the horizon, that I found myself within the empty walls of that hallowed church.

I closed the large wooden door behind myself, waiting for that rusty latch to spring into place, and then thoughtlessly stuffed that new bandana Natél had gotten me into the pockets of my trousers. Now I could hear things better - or rather, I better came to understand that complete absence of noise within the church.

Sister Ada wasn't there to greet me, and the pews sat as empty and undisturbed as the last time I'd been here. I ran my finger across one of those wooden seats and found it to be coated in a fine and thin layer of dust that ran all along the length of the pew.

Without the sun's rays to cut light through the windows, the interior of the church was nothing but one mass of enveloping shadow. I only knew of the finer details that lay beyond because I'd been here before - the chalices, and tables, and carvings that lined some of the walls, holy scriptures painted onto blank white canvases in bright red ink, and the simple, and yet somewhat intricate, way in which the stone flooring had been set up, so that one's eyes would naturally be drawn up to the altar at the far end of the room.

Even that massive stained glass painting was shrouded in darkness. I could not make out the eight points of the red star, or the yellow lilies underneath it, or the group of Welks and Sommerians and Perenisians that worshiped the divine Symbol.

Of course, of all the places where light did reach the church, it was the altar that would be illuminated the most. A couple of candles burned dimly, squat so low to their unpolished candlesticks that they were but a few hours away from burning out for the last time.

I listlessly walked up to the altar and looked through the few things that had been left unattended. There was a book, one of the many holy scriptures for the Church of Penance, left open after recent use. The pages of it were almost brittle to the touch, so coarse and unforgiving that paper was.

Nothing of interest. I'm not sure what I was expecting - a miracle, perhaps. The thought crossed my mind as I bitterly looked up to the Symbol that, on a better day, should have been regaling me with some holy divination.

Not tonight. It just sat there on that window, as silent as it would always be, unworthy of my attention or praise.

"Fuck you," I spat, and found a place to sit on the nearest pew. Thankfully Sister Ada hadn't been there to hear me say it - even with all the kindness and compassion that the sister showed, she wouldn't have been able to forgive such a transgression to her beliefs. It was -

I felt it long before I heard it - the tickling of fur on the back of my neck, as if someone had their nose pressed right up against my body. Out of instinct I reached back and held on to myself, itching at that spot as the fur on my arm stood on end and a cold chill forced itself into me. Was the air colder, or had I just not been aware of it?

And why was everything so quiet?

Again - just like before. Another cold chill; another fur-raising sense of alarm that something, somewhere, wasn't right.

For a moment I lingered, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to understand why I felt so suddenly uneasy, until I finally came to understand the sound that had caught my ear but evaded the forefront of my thoughts. A cry, a moan, so breathless and distant that I could not tell if it came from within the walls of the church or from somewhere so very far away.

I stood quickly, tightly holding onto myself as I turned about and had a look around the hall. Sure enough I was alone. Nothing stirred nor looked to be out of place. And yet -

It was feint. A mere whisper. I took off my bandana and listened for it again. Minutes passed, so long they were that my feet began to ache from the odd way with which I held myself, turning my head this way and that, trying to find out if it was...

Upstairs. The tower. It was coming from up there, starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes a resounding wail and other times nothing but a ghostly whisper that tickled the inside of my ear and set my flesh crawling with dread.

At the threshold of the tower's base I held myself, one foot on the first step and the other pointed straight at the exit. Above the heavy beating of my heart I could hear the words spoken between each cry - a strange chant in fact, from the lips of a mildly accented Perenisian. She was soft-spoken and gentle, and I found that I was drawn to her voice in the same way that thirst would drive someone to drink from the sea.

I shouldn't have approached, and knew better than to do so, but I couldn't stop myself either.

Only when I came upon the room where we had held my confessional did I catch another sound to go along with her cries - like the snapping of leather, or a pathetic crack of a whip. Snap! it would go, and not a second after I'd hear her moan partway between pain and ecstasy. It... it couldn't have been that, yet my mind quickly filled in the blanks before I could stop myself. The breathless nature of her cries... the way they'd be dragged out for seconds at a time, reaching their crescendo before wistfully pittering out to the droning monologue of her recital.

Just a little farther.

Another crack of leather, another drawn out moan, and another long list of words I had no hope of recognizing. Perfect Perenisian, so deeply religious it must be, that even with the context, her words meant little to me. I stepped as light on my feet as I could as I finally came upon another door, from the crack of which I could see a faint light cutting through the dark.

I caught sight of my hands finally, trembling hard as I reached for the door. I knew that what I did was wrong, and yet...

Not a word out of me. Not a sound. Nothing but my breaths, and even those I struggled to hide as I pushed the door slightly to look inside the room. Her bedroom, I saw, from the bed on the wall and the clothes stacked atop of it. And center of it all -

"AAAHH!" Sister Ada's moan pierced my ear as I finally caught sight of her. I couldn't look away, not now that I could see her naked body so very dimly illuminated by candlelight that I could just barely make out the finer details of her thick, curvy, and enticing shape.

Now that layers of clothing weren't hiding her away, I could better see the thickness of her thighs and the swell of her pert and ample breasts, capped off at each end by a near-invisible nipple from where I stood. She knelt on the floor in way that brought her rear into view, that slender curling tail raised high over her body, legs spread just enough so that I could catch a glimpse of the labia in between - thick too, so that her nether lips would wrap tight to a cock, and glistening with the moisture of her arousal, which -

What was I doing? This was wrong. I had to look away. I had to -

In her hands she held something... strange. Not a whip, not quite, but as black as the leather of my lost collar. It began at a handle, which she held so tightly that I felt her knuckles would burst from her hand. As tightly as I was holding on to the edge of her door. Then, just a little further up, that rod split off into an innumerable set of leather straps, flailing about with every slight movement of her hand, notched and knotted to the very end.

"Sanctify my body. Unburden my soul." And then a string of Perenisian, far too fast for me to understand. Sister Ada spoke to nobody. Her attention wasn't even drawn to any religious symbol. She just knelt on the floor, with that flail in her hands, and...

So quickly her hands moved that I didn't understand what she'd done until after I heard the snap of leather against skin and the Sister's ensuing lustful cries. The leather straps had struck dead center of her back, though rather than pain she only expressed the purest amount of joy. And the way she looked... her snout agape, strands of saliva crisscrossing her upper and lower maw and dangling from her chin as she heaved a heavy breath and spread her legs wider, far enough that now I could see the excitement of her pussy dripping unto the cold stone below. She wriggled her hips in a manner not dissimilar to when we'd sat beside one another and spoke once more in that beautiful panting voice of hers.

Beautiful, like the rest of her mature body. The only time I turned away was to blink, and only when my eyes had become so dry that they ached and burned.

"For my existence wrongs the beauty of this world - AH! a-and only through penance shall we - AAHHH! shall we bloom, and only though blood will we achieve purity and virtue."

Thighs quivering; body twitching with delight. She was in pain, and so, so much pleasure.

And I? I couldn't keep my hands from myself - one steadying the door, not allowing it to move one more inch out of fear of being caught, as the other fell down to my groin. So that I could feel myself, rub the growing erection that bulged against my trousers while I watched Sister Ada press herself against cold stone as she flailed herself once more.

Her body twisted up, then curved, then arched backward to near enough the point that her breasts looked up to the ceiling before falling away to either side of her body under their natural weight, as she wordlessly chanted something under her breath before saying, loudly, so that all of Port Ronald could hear:

"Purify my body! Cast this weight from my soul!"

The leather flail nearly fell from her hands as she grabbed to her breasts, slender fingers tightly groping the soft and pliable flesh, squeezing into skin, ruffling fur, pinching her nipple so hard that even I felt the that bit of pain she'd been inflicting on herself.

I grabbed to the bulge of my trousers and squeezed, and rubbed, and stroked myself over the fabric as I took in the mesmerizing sight, biting hard on my lower lip to keep myself from whimpering or breathing the wrong way. Too scared I was to make a noise; to distract Sister Ada from whatever she was doing.

As long as she didn't stop.

Her fingers were not on her breasts anymore - no, they traveled down the length of her body, teasing at delicate fur and tender skin, little claws scraping along the parts of her body that only she knew would make her twitch and shiver and breathlessly moan in wanton lust.

Circling her areola - her nipples must have been sensitive to the touch; scratching at the valley between her breasts, and the spot just under the shadow of her mounds; running along the length of her ribs and in between them; reaching back to hold tight to the base of her tail, and raise it high, and bend forward as if she knew I were here, watching, getting the perfect view of her soaked thighs and tight asshole; squeezing one cheek tight enough that flesh bulged between her fingers, as her other hand carefully rubbed along the inside of her thigh, just out of view, yet my mind filled the gaps of my sight.

Turn away. Go back down. Pretend like I hadn't seen anything. I could tell myself those words as much as I wanted, but I knew I wouldn't act on them. Mere passing thoughts that I paid little heed to as I watched Sister Ada tease a finger against her outer lip, allowing it to be coated in the moisture of her secretions.

This was wrong. I was defiling her privacy. She would be angry. And yet I nearly moaned as I stroked myself to the sight of the Sister placing that juice-coated finger to her mouth, trailing it against her bottom lip, licking and savouring with a quick flick of her small and rough tongue, before she fully drew the digit into her snout and hungrily suckled on the length of it.

"Through pain comes purity." She licked that finger, drew it from deep within her snout, letting the strand of saliva dangle and glint under the dim lighting of her bedroom before it arched, heavy near its centre, to collapse under the force of gravity. "And with purity, we gain life, and love, and pleasure." Another quick exploration of her body, fingers teasing all those spots she knew far too well before disappearing between her thighs as she capped off her chant in a string of soft-spoken Perenisian and a heavy, pleasure-laden shudder of her body.

As she stood, I could see the moisture of her pussy pooling to the stone below, still dripping in arousal as she stretched her arms high overhead, moaned, and quivered in return. Not from the cold gust of wind that I felt rush up my back, but rather from the intense amount of pleasure that must have been rushing through her veins. That's what it had to be - like the adrenaline I'd felt earlier this morning after my talk with Captain Alva, only this continued to tease the Perenisian Sister, enflaming her nethers, drawing her hands to her breasts and groin in some mellow attempt at drawing out just a little more, if only for a minute, if only to...

When she turned, I froze. It was those eyes - those brilliantly golden eyes, wide and bright and so full of love and mischief, staring directly into my own. First they widened with surprise, then narrowed a small smile formed along her snout. That tail of hers swished and flicked then curled around one of her legs.

And for a moment - one infinitely long, short moment - I could not move. Feet firmly planted, hand pressed right against my throbbing erection, which only intensified as I got an up-front view of her breasts and tight diamond-hard nipples.

It was a short-lived moment, one in which she looked into my blue eyes with the understanding that she'd caught me, and that she knew who I was, and that there would be no way of denying any accusations. Then my body reluctantly caught up with my racing mind, which screamed at me over and over to run, and I rushed back down the tower, silence be damned, until I was back inside the church's main chamber, panting for breath, a sudden and inexplicable pressure crushing down on my throat.

I didn't leave. I couldn't leave. Like a presence was holding me back. Guilt? Shame at what I'd done, and yet inwardly satisfied at having seen what I had.

I settled onto a pew again, doing my best to ignore the throbbing in my pants even as my hands idly teased and scratched over the rough fabric. It wasn't easy, sitting there, with images fresh on my mind of Sister Ada's soft and flexible body just an arm and a half away from. So close she had been that I could have reached in and touched her - to feel that bare skin underneath my fingers, and taste her, and...

The only thing keeping me from acting out on my lust and masturbating was the fact that I was within the church. This wasn't the place for that. But I still touched myself, audibly whimpering now that I wasn't trying to remain hidden, as I thought back to Sister Ada's hands and imaged that it was she who was touching me right now. That it would be she who -

She came now, down the stairs of the church tower - the slow clop of wooden sandals against rough stone as she slowly and carefully descended each of the steps. She hummed a happy tune - some religious song, it must have been - that seemed to followed the rhythmic jingling of jewelry and the rasping of cloth.

I stood again, hands clasped together, my ear pressed so tight to my head that it burned like the heat on my cheeks, and began to stammer out my apology when Sister Ada through the tower's doorway.

"No need for that," she said very quickly with a raised hand an warm smile, "so please, keep your apologies to yourself. They are not needed in this House."

Despite the fabric of clothing - only a rich white tunic underneath red satin robes - I could still picture her naked body standing in front of me. And now that she stood closer, I could so very vividly picture it all as my eyes openly lingered on the curves of her breasts, the dimples where her nipples still pushed through that paper-thin clothing, and the curvature of her hips. And, as if she knew where I was looking, I noticed the way Sister Ada seemed to push out her chest a little more, with a slight shake to either side so my eyes would be drawn back to them.

I_wanted_ her.

"No," I said, and finally looked her in the eyes. Such an elegant beauty, and with that look about them that was almost... perverse. If there was a hell, I was going straight to it. "I should apologize. It was wrong of me to -"

"It is natural to be curious," Sister Ada said in an almost disarming voice. Not quite. Something about it sounded so... so pleased about what had happened; "Although what you saw was something of a more... personal nature, hm?" Her head titled to the side, those long and slim ears twitching like her fingers had while she'd been striking herself. "How about we keep this one between ourselves, Vulp?"

"Is... is that what you want, Sister Ada?" She reached for me now, just a foot away from pressing her body to my own, and grabbed at me with the hand that had disappeared in between her thighs. I could smell it now - acrid and sweet; the scent of her excitement that yet lingered on her body. I swear I could almost feel the moisture of it on her fingertips.

"It is." Low voice, almost husky, devious in nature. Such a stark contrast to her inviting smile. A smile which told me that it was alright to trust in her words and to do as she said. "Our little secret. So if word gets out, I'll know who did it."

"I-I..."

"I tease, Vulp!" Mirthful laughter. A very tight squeeze of my hand. Then she let go of me and took a step back, broadening her smile, small nose rapidly twitching as if she were taking in my scent. So forgiving... Not even a hint at wanting to reprimand me, nor a yell, nor so much as a backhanded insult so that it would linger for the rest of the night.

Nothing but understanding, and care, and at best a hint of amusement at what had transpired.

She was too kind to me. Far more than I deserved.

"I'm happy you came back," she said after a moment, in which my eyes had lingered yet again. I could still feel the throbbing in my core; dull now, easier to ignore, but still there. "For a moment I wondered if you wouldn't return."

"Forgive -" Don't apologize. That's not what she wanted. "I... I lost track of time while doing something. But I didn't forget. And, besides, we agreed on me coming back tonight, right? For another..." The word couldn't leave my mouth.

"A confession," she finished off, and nodded, "Some people don't come back. Afraid of what they might learn, or not wishing to relive the memories, or simply feeling like this was a waste of time. I'm happy to see you here again, willing to go for another night." Sister Ada paused for a moment as her tail unwound itself from around her leg. "I believe we'll make good progress tonight."

"Progress?" I asked, even as she reached for me to rub the back of her fingers against the side of my cheek. It was such a slow movement that I didn't so much as flinch at it. "I... I don't know how much more we can -"

"Not here," she interrupted as her hand came down to grab my own, and her body sidled up the side of mine. Just like yesterday. She made me feel like I was her entire world; "Upstairs. What we speak isn't for the hall. Somewhere with a little more privacy, where we won't be disturbed. Okay?"

"Y-Yes..." Somewhere with more privacy. The way she said it - must have been my imagination. Too much fresh on my mind. I held on tight to Sister Ada and walked with her, till we made it to the confessional room, where incense had already been burning. It masked, though not quite completely rid itself, of that peculiar scent that had been following Sister Ada around.

Much like last time we held each other's hands, with me sitting on my haunches while Sister Ada knelt and sat back on her folded legs, with the two of us just inches apart from one another. At the very least, I thought to myself, she wouldn't have the taste of alcohol constantly brushing against her nose - hopefully.

"You've freshened up," spoke Sister Ada as she moved to touch the tip of her nose against my own, holding it there until it almost felt like her body was a natural extension to my own. Had I not known better, I would have thought that she was doing it on purpose. Forcing me to feel every inch of her soft body pressing against my own, especially now that I'd seen her bare to the world. Admittedly, it was hard to ignore. I was constantly swallowing mouthfuls of saliva as I practically salivated to her touch. "Such a beautiful coat of fur. And so soft, too."

"It... I..." And the moisture between her legs. So thoroughly soaked. Strands of girl cum that connected from one thigh to another and split off to the source, where she just wouldn't stop leaking. "It's..."

"When I visited Gallaecia," and those lips between her thighs, so thick, visibly protruding from her body, eagerly twitching, waiting to wrap around the length of my - what in hells had gotten into me? Had to focus on her - just her face, nothing else; "I think that was what struck me the most. All those winter furs. So thick and vibrant and warm. Much like yours now."

I took a deep and calming breath, getting a good amount of her scent in the process, along with that sweet and lingering aroma of the incense. Charcoal and smoke - she'd always smell like that with how long she spent around burning candles and incense. It wasn't... it wasn't bad, in all honesty. So unique that I'd only ever associate that scent to her.

Then I said, while struggling to ignore the slight shake of her hips and sway of her breasts pressed gently against my chest, "I wouldn't remember, Sister."

"Has it been so long since you visited your homeland?"

I nodded.

"And would you ever wish to go back?"

"I can't say." I shrugged and felt her squeeze my hands. Just a little further, an inch more, and I could have felt her soft lips on my own, and tasted them for myself. "The thought has never crossed my mind."

"Not_once_?" she asked me, as if in disbelief.

"There's nothing there, Sister." She remained quiet - wanted me to speak a little more. "No family or friends, and no obligations to tie me to Gallaecia. The only reason I'd go would be to see more of my - well, you don't see many Vulpers in the Isles."

She seemed to mutter something under her breath - I didn't catch it. Something in her native tongue. "You do not need obligations to visit someplace new."

"Oh, no. I agree. It's just, my captain, I don't think -"

"This captain," Sister Ada interrupted, and was not at all apologetic over the fact, "was the one you saved?"

"Y-Yes," I stammered, and for a moment pulled away from her touch. She held me tight, refusing to let go, and dragged me back to press against her. "Saved... yes. Her."

"Would she not allow you to leave?"

"I... I haven't asked." She wouldn't.

"Then maybe you should." As if it would be that easy.

"We've been so busy lately, and-and it's just the two of us, Sister Ada. I don't think we can... and there's the whole thing with the..." Didn't want to turn the topic so sour so quickly, but I had to make sure she hadn't forgotten - it wouldn't be fair to her, to hide away who I was and what I did, "... you know."

She nodded, and smiled, and said to me, "There's a lot on your mind."

"There's a lot on my mind," I echoed with a small nod as I turned my eyes away from her for a split second.

"Which is reasonable enough," she commented slowly, "and is also why I think you need to get out of the Eastern Isles, if not than for a month at the very least. You said it yourself, Vulp. There's a lot on your mind, burdening your thoughts, resting heavy on your soul." She massaged my palms - such a familiar gesture now. I looked to her unblinking golden eyes again, pupils nothing but thin black ships amid a sea of brilliant honey. "It would do you good - for you, and I'm certain, for your captain as well."

"... maybe."

"And what of the question I asked you yesterday?"

So many questions had been asked. "Which one?"

"What do you want out of this?"

She looked around the room, no doubt gesturing to the greater whole of ours surroundings. This small room, where we held my confessions. The tower to which this room belonged to, and the church to which this tower was connected to. And, if I wanted to look a little further, the beliefs of which the church represented.

"Forgiveness through atonement," Sister Ada said in almost a soft murmur. Then she leaned close to my one ear and continued; "Absolution through penance. Or so the Book of Rodrick Philaphel will teaches us - and the Book of the Eighth Point, and the Book of the Six Rites; and so on and so forth." She pulled back from my ear, but not without leaving behind a sharp breath of air that tickled the inside. "So many scriptures teaching us the same thing - I like to believe that it is a reiteration of the important points, this one being...?"

She waited, smiling, wide-eyed. Wanted me to answer, then? And suddenly I felt trapped, and anxious. Not that I hadn't been paying attention, but that I'd give her the wrong answer. Like the Academy, once again. Only this time I didn't feel so sour about it - it helped to have Sister Ada so close to me.

After another moment I said to her, "People can be... forgiven?" She nodded, and then gestured with a slight dip of her snout and a frail touch of her nose against mine for me to continue, "And... well..." I shrugged and gave her the sort of look - a slight, halfway frown and an upward perk of my brows - that said I had nothing else to say.

Sister Ada comfortingly brushed my cheek with her hand then threaded her fingers through the fur of my neck, right where my collar should have. The thought only lasted a moment; she distracted me with another small shift of her body. All I had to do was glance down so I could see her nipples through the fabric of her robes, painfully hard and aching to be touched. Gods...

"And..." she paused, as if to allow the sound of her voice to draw my eyes up again. It worked. Once more I was captivated by her unblinking stare; "it means that, despite your sins, you are allowed the chance of atoning for them."

I almost scoffed; if only she hadn't been so serious with her words. "If even I...?"

"From experience, I believe that if you are suffering for what you did - I think you are, Vulp - and genuinely want to seek forgiveness for what you've done, then you're entitled to doing so. Perhaps the laws of men will not look so kindly on your actions," They wouldn't, of that I was sure, "but that's not to say that your soul must suffer for the rest of your life, not if you truly regret your actions."

That pregnant pause put a chill to my back. Her eyes narrowed a little, and with a small pout she asked me:

"You_do_ regret what you did, right?"

And... I did. I nodded, and told her as so, but then said rather lowly, "I will always defend my captain."

"Such a loyal Vulper." It didn't feel like she was teasing me. That was as genuine as a sentiment could get. "Then you've decided; you truly want to find forgiveness?"

"I do," I whispered. My voice cracked as I said it. I thought back to those bodies, and the blood, and the way my hands wouldn't stop shaking - they _still_wouldn't stop shaking... "But... you..."

"Relax, Vulp." Her nose rubbed against my own, left and right, slowly. It was almost sandy in texture, like her tongue would be, considering her Perenisian nature. And thinking of her tongue... "I know you're not a religious man. You said so yourself."

"It's just -"

"Scared of what I might have you do?" Another giggle, a little more hidden away this time. Just at the back of her throat, and not an inch further. "No, dear. What you saw today - and my, you did see quite a bit, didn't you?" Hot rush of blood. I couldn't even stammer to form a reply. Why did she have to say it like that? "I won't have you do that. I understand that you might not be comfortable in performing such rites. The Church does not... hm... we do not impose our practices on those who aren't willing, understand?"

"I... I do. But -"

"There's other things we can try. Methods for you to atone for your -"

"Sister!"

"Oh!"

"I... I'm sorry." She wouldn't let me talk. I hadn't meant to raise my voice. Her hands had tightened around my own, then went back to a state of relaxation. Those eyes widened, her mouth fell slightly agape, and her brows furrowed as she studied me. "I didn't mean to yell."

"It's quite alright, dear. Tell me, what's on your mind?"

"What you were doing today, when I - when I saw you."

"Mhm?" She sat up a little higher. Her lips finally brushed against my own, only so briefly that I barely got a taste. In that moment I licked my bottom lip and tasted her on me - it only made me want more.

"What were you doing?"

Should I have asked? I knew what she was doing - felt like I knew, at least. I needed to hear it from her mouth. I wanted to see if she'd be willing to tell me. This all felt far too intimate to keep things from one another. And besides, from the look in her eyes, Sister Ada seemed all the eager to share.

"Atoning," she began, "the scriptures, they also teach us that," she paused and cleared her throat, then recited, "'through blood, we cleanse the body, feed the lily, purify and grow'." She winked. "Something along those lines."

"You were..."

If she hadn't been so professional, or caring, or downright patient, then I swear I would have seen Sister Ada roll her eyes. "Flailing myself. Yes."

"And it didn't... it didn't hurt?"

"No... yes. At first. But afterward?" Through her hands, I felt her shudder. Through the way her bosom pressed against my chest, I felt her quiver. Through her nose pressed to my own and lips brushing against mine, I felt her release a trembling and throaty breath. "You saw it all."

"I did." Swallow. Breathe. I could almost taste it - imagining what she tasted like. And now... it wasn't my imagination. I could smell it. I could smell her. And she could smell it too. She had to.

"It still excites me, Vulp," she whispered as her snout nuzzled against the side of my own, "just thinking of it, I can almost..." I could hear her sucking on her bottom lip, just beside my ear. I could feel her hips rolling in tight little circles. Beneath those robes, I knew what was happening. Finally I understood why she seemed so impatient at times, and why she wouldn't stop fidgeting.

Not knowing enough about the Church, I had no idea if this was normal behaviour or not.

Gods, I hope it is.

"How about a taste, Vulp?"

"S-Sister!" Yelling again. I had to stop yelling. But she - "What are you - this isn't..."

"Hush, dear. Are you saying I'm too old for you?"

"N-No! I... I'm not. I'm saying - you're a... I..."

"Hm. Then it shouldn't be a problem." She eased back, just enough that one hand still held to my own while the other fell to her lap. "I saw that look in your eyes, when you were peeking through the door? Hungry, hm? Why not let me sate your curiosity a little? And that way I can show just how much pleasure I get out of my rites."

"This can't be..."

"Is that a no, then?" Her smile remained. Devious smile.

"... no."

"No, as in...?"

"As in," another mouthful of saliva. It seemed to hitch with every hard beat of my heart as it traveled down my throat; "I... I want a..."

"You'll have to speak up a little, dear." Underlyingly commanding. Not quite asking as much as she was telling me to be louder.

"... a taste. I want a taste."

She held me close as a hand fell between her robes. I could hear then, the wet _slick_of a finger caressing the tight embrace of her outer labia. I tried to picture it, even as I closed my eyes and breathed in Sister Ada's wonderful smoky scent. Her finger pressing up and down between those protruding mounds, spreading them apart for a moment before entirely disappearing into her folds. Sister Ada breathed into my ear and said to me, "It's okay. No - mmph - n-no need to be nervous," as she stared me down with the side of her eye.

Never had I heard her struggle to speak so much; never did I imagine those lusty breaths of air gently massaging the side of my cheek. Never did I think I would ever listen to the sound of her wet labia being split apart by her roaming finger, as she coated herself in a layer of her own excitement, while promising me that it would taste as divine as my imagination made it out to be.

"Open your mouth," she said to me while pushing her breasts to my chest, "this one's all for you, my dear little Vulp."

And so I did as she said, watched as her finger disappeared into my maw, and closed it up around her digit. With a moan I licked, and sucked, and savoured, and swallowed everything she had to offer me. It was bitter, and acrid, and tangy, and rich, and even a little sweet. It was hot against my cool tongue - sweet, burning honey that could only have tasted better had I drank it straight from the source.

"Don't let a single drop go to waste," she said to me. I could feel her satisfaction. This was where she'd wanted me. And this is where I wanted to be, at this very moment. "See, Vulp? The result of what you saw today." Such a low, throaty whisper, and even a light moan as I rubbed my thin tongue along the length of her finger. Long gone were her juices, but I could still taste it on her. "The sacred waters of my body. Purification. It's..." she drew her finger from my snout, though I didn't let it go without one last lick, one small nip, and gentle suckle on the very tip so that she'd know that I only let go out of reluctance, "... wonderful."

"It's wonderful." She finally pulled back, slits for eyes, a sly smile across her lips which broadened as her gaze finally met my own. "All that, just from -"

"Punishment," she said, then shook her head and said as if to correct herself, "Penance, hm?"

"Penance."

In the back of my mind came to me a passing thought - something wasn't right with Sister Ada. The longer I spent with her the more I saw it. This... this couldn't be normal within the Church. It couldn't be-

And then she said the words I'd been thinking of, having mulled them in my thoughts beforehand as nothing more than a pacing fancy, and cemented themselves to the forefront of my mind after having tasted her.

"Do you want to try it?"

"But I'm not a... I'm not from the Church." A pause. "I'm not one of you, Sister."

"Well... nobody has to know." She smiled. "And I'm more than willing to help you through the process. It will be a... shared experience."

"I don't... I don't know." I did know. Why did I stop myself? I wanted to say yes. I... "Will it truly help me?"

"You can never know for sure," she said to me, her voice just a little higher in pitch, "until you give it a try."

And what was the harm in trying? If it meant that this would help me... feel like she did. Unburdened. If it meant that I would be able to see more of her. Closer. And taste her. And feel her...

If it meant a restful sleep...

"Okay..."

***

I would have gone mad, had it not been for Natél and Sister Ada.

The collar always lingered in the back of my mind. No matter where I went, I had always kept a careful eye on my surroundings, to see if by some off-chance I'd be able to get a glimpse of it. But they... distracted me. The Welk with his almost obsessive and overbearing nature, and that Perenisian nun with her promises of salvation.

But now I was alone, back on that long trek from the cliffside church to the Winding Gale, and the collar once again pervaded my thoughts.

So I took the extra time to have one last look, outright knowing what the outcome would be. It was hope, I guess. As silly as it could be.

I took careful inventory of the stock all throughout the harborside bazaar. Perhaps someone would be selling it as some oddity or - no, it wasn't there. I looked through every road, every branching path, every alley and every alcove, and found nothing but dirt and trash and tropical rats larger than my hand, who gorged themselves on all that refuse left behind. I even went so far as to stare at the nighttime crawlers like myself, who wandered aimlessly or with purpose through the bazaar, sizing up product or marking up their next victim - that failed as well.

Failure after failure.

Captain Alva had given me a difficult task - impossible, if I was going to be honest with myself - but I really did think I'd be able to pull it off. It was my fault, in the end, that I'd so carelessly lost the collar. I shouldn't have been so hasty as to promising her that I'd find it, but I already knew that with my captain there was no such thing as 'maybe' and half-hearted attempts. I either did what I was told to do, or I didn't.

We met eyes, my captain and I, as I came to the Gale's dock. She was standing at the starboard railing, right where I'd been this very morning, looking out over the vast maze of ships that had cast their anchors and tied themselves to wooden pegs.

There was that indifferent, half-lidded stare from her one good silver and grey eye - at least tonight she was wearing her eyepatch; I'd always said it gave her a strong and imposing look. And then a powerful sigh that raised her to the heavens as she breathed in and forced her to collapse the weight of her torso as she breathed out. In her left hand she clutched something - I couldn't quite tell what it was; her right hand lay open and bare, listlessly dangling off the edge of the railing, fingers twitching without rhyme or reason.

I didn't realize I'd been holding tight to my neck until my captain called me up to the ship with a long and slow motion of her hand. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd seen me without the collar and yet, at least for now, she wasn't chewing me out yet.

Not that I was going to get my hopes up, but it relieved some of the tension on my shoulders and cleared away a bit of that foggy cloud that had hazed my thoughts.

Standing beside her now, I could see that my captain was tense. More so than usual, in fact. Everything about her was all... wound up. Almost curled up in a way. But she also had a way of making it look like she was at her most at ease. Serene, almost. Although an imposing stature and often-dangerous glare betrayed the tranquility of her aura.

There was also that smell of hers, bloody meat, like she'd just torn into raw flesh, and the strong burn of rum that clung to wherever she went. From a passing glance I knew she wasn't drunk, even if she'd spent her day drinking. And not a hint of that Castallino Red on her - she must have finished it off shortly after I left her this morning.

I found my place by her side and together we looked across the harbor, to the many burning lanterns scattered across The Port, stretching out far above the sloping incline of the Isle of Ronald. They twinkled and glowed like the stars overhead, some flicking out of existence at the same time as others would flit and flutter to life. Port Ronald never slept - tonight, it seemed, neither would my captain.

And so I wouldn't either.

"I couldn't find it." Impossible for me to just stand there and pretend that everything was alright when it wasn't. I leaned against the railing, careful to keep a few paces from my captain, and kept my eyes to the docks. Ships bobbed in a silent dance, and ours was no different. The Gale's gentle rocking helped ease my anxieties. "I'm sorry, Captain."

She didn't reply. Just huffed and turned her large head away. I bit down on my lip and watched her from the corner of my eye. Her right hand twitched, tensed, and clenched into a tight fist that dug claws into the skin of her palms. Any harder and she might have drawn blood - or maybe she did. Theirs was a blood so dark it nearly resembled the deep sea.

"If you'll still have me," I continued, unable to stop myself from letting my mouth run its course as I watched another lantern's flame get snuffed out, "I-I'll keep looking. There's still a lot of ground to cover. And... And I know, with time, I will -"

She held it out in her hand, turning just slightly to glance down at me as she brought it to my face. Dark leather band, as rough to the touch as it looked. Two copper tags clinking like miniature bells as they jingled in the palm of her hand: one read out my name, carved onto the copper in hasty and messy handwriting with the tip of a knife - VULP; the other, hidden behind the first, had been polished to a coppery shine and been stamped with an all-too familiar message - PROPERTY OF C.A..

It was my collar, right on the palm of her hand, held out to my face for me to take it. It was... she... "You... you had it?"

Captain Alva smiled - I could see it even though she'd turned her head away - and tightened her hold on the collar. She shook it, letting the copper tags ring against one another, enticing me to grab it before letting it slip through her fingers just as I moved to grab it. The black leather band fell like a stone, landing between ourselves, after which my captain turned to me and commanded in a dark and foreboding tone.

"Pick it up."

Hesitation. I looked to her, then the collar, wonder why she had it and when she found it. Why did she - no, no. She didn't hold it back from me. She just... she found it. Found it before I did.

My captain was staring at me now, both arms still draped over the ship's railing, her eye fixed solely on my head. Although the rest of her expression didn't shift, I could see her smile broadening. Teeth peeked from her lips. The taste of liquor was in her breath. I nodded, stammered and failed to form a reply, and then wordlessly bent to grab the collar.

It was once I'd gone past her waist that she grabbed tight to the fur of my neck, and I paused, waiting for the moment in which she'd slam me to the deck of the ship, spitting in my face, telling me that I'd done terribly wrong. I waited for the hit, or the slap, or the yelling. I waited for... Nothing; nothing but a surprisingly gentle touch, and soft-spoken words that said to me, "Never lose this collar again."

I caught my breath again, realizing now that my captain wasn't going to do any of those things to me. She wasn't... angry? Was she? She wasn't visibly upset, not as much as she had this morning. Maybe the Castallino cooled her off. Maybe she was just glad that I'd come back, despite not finding the collar. As slight as it was, that could be a possibility.

But it didn't change the fact that I wouldn't push my luck. Even after a whole day of activity, I could still feel a gentle throbbing on my throat. All I had to do was close my eyes, and in short moments I could vividly picture her hand wrapped so tight that I couldn't breathe.

"Never even so much as take this thing off."

My captain pulled me deep to the side of her body, and the arm that had been pinning me deck and dragged me by my fur had instead fallen around my shoulders. It was a tight, claustrophobic, constricting embrace that tightened all the more when I squirmed but for a moment. Then... nothing. No struggle from my part, and no sound except the content sigh I let off as I felt the warmth of her rigid body against my own.

Not warmth - a burn. An intense fire that scalded my skin like boiling water. So cradled she had me that it felt like I'd been tailor made to fit into the side of her body. I could feel her breathing, and I could hear the rapid beating of her large Welkish heart, which struggled to pump blood all through those long and powerful limbs.

"Put it on," she said. I didn't taste the bitterness of her voice anymore. Something softer now. Comforting in the way only my captain could pull off. Warm, yet unquestionably cold. Interested, yet undoubtedly bored. "Go on, you Vulp."

It slipped around my neck. Tight - so tight. Like small hands threatening, but not quite ever managing, to choke out my breath. I stretched my head left and right from what little room Captain Alva afforded me and settled closer to her side as I felt the beating of her dirty tail against my own. Her fingers squeezed around my shoulder tight enough that she could have broken bone, and -

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed. Just like that, the collar was gone. No longer did I feel its tight embrace around my neck. But I heard it, the slight ting of copper plate against copper plate. So comfortably did it fit around my neck that, even as I opened my eyes and stared down at it, I couldn't help but feel like it never even existed.

It felt good. I felt... I felt complete.

"You are lucky that I found it," she said to me; her words just rolled off the tongue, "Imagine where it could be now, had it not been for me."

"Gone," I whispered as I felt her hand fall from my shoulder to the inside of my arm. More of that uncomfortably comfortable hold; "Very, very far away."

"Mhm."

Someone, somewhere far from us, laughed; someone else screamed.

"... Thank you, Captain."

She squeezed my ribs until they ached, and with a hard tug she pressed me right back to her side. Didn't once let me go as the two of us sat in the silence and warmth of one another. I wanted to believe she found as much comfort in me as I did in her, even if she didn't need it or outright expressed it. It would explain moments like these, when she held me not unlike a close friend would another. It would -

"See that?" She pointed out to the other end of the harbor. I had to squint just to catch sight of what she was talking of, and even then I couldn't quite make it out. Too many ships, and they all sort of looked the same from a distance. "No, no. There." The hand which held me by the ribs slipped up to roughly grab the underside of my jaw, and with a tight twist of my neck she turned my gaze to another point in the harbor. There, following the direction her finger was pointing to, I saw a ship whose colours I could not discern in this darkness. "That ship."

"I see it," I replied.

"They're here."

"They, Captain?"

"Imperial Service."

The name didn't ring a bell, though by the look in her eye it should have been familiar. I shrugged at my captain as her hand fell to my shoulder once more and said, "Who?" in a manner that wouldn't come off as insulting or disinterested.

"Come on, you Vulp. You've heard of them." Deep breath in that she held for far too long, then slowly out. As if she were steadying herself for the rest of the conversation.

Imperial Service.

"Are they...?"

"Ahah. Finally putting that little brain of yours to work, are you?" She squeezed. My shoulder ached with dull pain. Claws threatened to tear into my shirt and dig holes in my skin. "They know, Vulp."

"Fuck."

"They've come for you."

"Don't..." I tried to pull away from her, but she held tight. Tighter than before, even. She wanted me to feel it. My captain wouldn't let go till she felt like it. "They can't have...?"

"Oh, they probably found the bodies already. Checked the list of docked ships, saw ours was one of the few that left that day, and... the rest is history, right up to today." She whistled, low and steady, as if admiring the diligence of the Service. "Isn't that a wonder."

"That's..." How did they knew we'd come here? How did they... "Not possible. Not... We just got here."

"And so did they," replied my captain with a slight shake of her head and another heavy sigh, "probably out there looking for you now."

"They don't..." I paused. Breathe. Think. Don't panic; "They don't know what I look like."

"Mmm... no. Probably not." She shrugged. "You haven't told to anyone, have you?"

"Captain?"

"Don't play the fool," she said darkly, then lightened up a little before continuing, "About what you did." She licked her lips and let her tongue hang from her maw for a second. "Haven't been blabbering about it, hm?"

"A-Absolutely not! Not one person. I... Why would I?"

"I don't know, Vulper. Why would you?"

"I..." Swallow hard. She didn't know. She... "I haven't told anyone about what happened." Did she believe me? Did she care? "We should leave."

"Hah!" That was as much of a laugh as I'd ever get out of her, so full of sarcasm, so obviously forced, "And _where, _pray tell, would we go?"

"S-Somewhere else. Away from here, Captain. I..." She just watched, her frail patience wearing thin, "Gallaecia."

"Gallaecia?"

"Or Sommeria! Or... we could just dock along the Collivar Coast. We could... we could leave, and-"

"I'm not leaving the Isles," she coldly said to me while once again shifting away, "and neither are you."

"But,Captain..."

"We're not leaving!" she snapped, accentuating her order with a hard slam of a fist against the wooden railing. I felt my heart jump up to my throat before it calmly settled back where it belonged. "We're staying right here."

"It's... what if they..."

"They're stupid, you Vulp. Not quite unlike you. But you beat them by a stone's throw." She sighed. "They know we're here, but they don't know where to look. They'll give up by the end of the week."

"And... if they don't?"

"Then you better pray to whatever gods there are, and hope they don't catch up to you." She turned, just slightly, to watch me from the corner of her one good eye. Was she amused. "Hope you never hear about the things they do to murderers. Makes the skin crawl. But, everything will be alright, Vulp." She crossed her arms now, and with a finger pointed at me - at my collar, "You have me. As long as you do as I say, nothing bad will ever happen to you."

"You won't... you won't let them find me, Captain?"

For a moment she remained silent, as if to let my question linger in the air. She nodded, then shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders and slumped against the railing. "Well there's not much I can do about those hounds," she gestured back over her shoulder with the point of her thumb, "but if you keep your head low, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Right, right..." Nothing to worry about. "Hah! You're right, Captain."

"Of course I'm right," she said, almost indignant, as if my statement had been some form of slight on her behalf, "When have I been wrong?"

Once or twice. I could count the number times in the fingers of my hand. Quite the achievement, considering two years spent at sea.

"Never," I replied. It's the answer she wanted, and not so far from the truth.

"You're scared, Vulper." She could hear it in my voice then, with the way it trembled as I spoke. Try as I might, I couldn't hide my feelings. "Feeling the claws of justice wrapped around your throat?"

"In way," I whispered as my eyes fell to that ship. "I really do think that we should -"

"We're not leaving," Captain Alva snapped. "Get that into your tiny head and live with it."

"... Understood, Captain."

She finally let me go, but I didn't move away. It wasn't often that she held me to her side the way she did - almost as if we were equals to one another.

"I'm all you have left, Vulp."

I didn't reply.

"Your little Academy?" She shrugged. "Where are they now?"

"I'm not sure, Captain."

"And your friends. What were their names? Juls, and that bitch Pern," Juulzie, and the Perenisian was Cassandra. "Found them yet?"

"N-No, Captain. I haven't really... I didn't bother looking."

"Took my advice to heart, did you?" she paused, then cleared her throat and reiterated it, "People move on and forget, don't they?"

"They do."

"Better off without them," she said.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"You're right, Captain." My turn to sigh, but so lowly that I hoped she didn't hear it - she did. "Better off without them."

"Not that they'd want to meet you now, right Vulp?"

"N-No, Captain."

"Little murderer. Got dirty blood on your hands, huh?"

"Yes, Captain."

Yes Captain. No Captain. Felt like the only correct answers I could ever give her - answers that wouldn't strike her wrong and spark unwanted ire.

"Ahh," she waved off a hand, "they're probably dead anyways."

"..."

"Right, Vulp?"

"Right."

"Funny how that works, doesn't it?"

"What exactly, Captain?"

"How people forget. How people die." She sniffed, rubbed a long finger under her nose, and continued after a sharp breath of air that wafted more of that burning scent of rotten flesh and strong, borderline medical, rum. "Spend a few years at sea only to come back to an empty house and no good pal worth their weight in copper. Stick to what you have, huh?"

A hand came down hard on my back, what was supposed to be a reassuring pat, maybe, but it only left a palm-sized stinging residue that lasted for minutes.

"Stick to what I have," I echoed, and turned to her with a slight smile. "Yeah, you're right, Captain."

She looked so pleased with herself. It made me happy to see her like that - it wasn't often that I saw such a genuine smile out of her.

"Good lad."

"Captain..." Should I have asked? It didn't feel right - as if I were pushing a topic we'd long past gotten through. But the way she phrased her earlier reply, about if she'd let them find me...

"Spit it out, Vulper."

"When they find me - if they find me," she tensed up a little. I should have stopped asking here, but continued instead, "will you help me?"

And for a long and painful minute, my captain didn't reply. She just stared out to the ships as I looked to her. Why did she take so long to reply? It should have been an easy answer - right? It would have been an easy one for me. I would have helped, no question about it.

I_have_ helped.

"Vulp."

"Yes, Captain?"

I could feel my ear twitching under my bandana, heart hopeful against my throat. I just needed to hear it. I wanted her to say the words. I needed to know - I... I needed her to reassure me of what was undoubtedly a fact. That she would help me when the time came, if it ever came. That she'd have my back for as much as I've had hers. Two years together - two years at sea. Overcoming odds, tackling challenges, celebrating victories and nursing our failures. I needed her to...

"Stop asking stupid questions."