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I awoke long before the sun shined its orange rays over the horizon. It wasn't by choice -- long from it, I would rather have spent another few hours tucked into my thin and dusty blankets, trying to draw what little comforting warmth I could get out of them.

Those few moments right as I opened my eyes were always the worst. I was so suddenly and painfully reminded of the hard cot on which I'd spent my night, which for a moment while I slept had slipped my mind. My aching back made sure to remind me of what I'd just put it through while my roaming thoughts quickly fell back on that plush bed that I'd slept on at the Golden Trident.

Longing -- not a feeling that I was used to waking up to, not since I left Port Ronald two years ago.

I'd shuffle and shift on my spot, moaning and groaning at nothing in particular while withholding complaints that only skeevering rats and rotting planks of wood would ever hear. The blanket was too short, even for me. I could either wake up with my bare feet freezing inside blocks of invisible ice, or I could suffer through a chilly nose and a painful ache where my ear once was as the cold of the Winding Gale's lower deck did its best to zap me of what little energy I had.

About the only two comforts that I was relegated to were the small and flat pillow I'd been using for the last two years -- a cushion that my captain had provided me with when I first came aboard her vessel -- and the cramped space that was my cot, which had been built out from one of the walls as a sort of alcove set squat to the ground. My pillow, at least, kept my head in place while I slept, and managed to make the nights just that much more bearable. My little alcove that I called a bed, meanwhile, was so far removed from the lower deck that none would have seen me sleeping here had they walked by while the ship was stocked full of supplies. It had been a little off-putting at first, but eventually I came to understand it as my own personal space, removed from the rest of the ship, where Captain Alva hardly ever deigned it necessary to venture into.

Inside this little box I'd open my eyes to all the little keepsakes I kept with me. They were odds and ends; trinkets and baubles from my travels through the Eastern Isles. There was so little space afforded to me in this alcove that I called a bunk; I had to keep these mementos lined along the inner wall, where once I had enjoyed the ability to press my body against it as a sort of impromptu back brace.

There was a little bottle that I'd gotten from Palpris. It was, at a quick glance, just a simple glass bottle with a bit of dirt held within, not much larger than the palm of my hand, and stoppered with a rather dusty-looking cork. Inside it, though, I knew of the pearl that I'd stuffed into it. Such a small thing -- I'd found it while diving for clams during one of our stays on that depressing isle. I wasn't so sure of its worth on the market, but for some reason... I still wasn't sure on why I'd decided to keep it. It just meant something to me.

Beside that bottle was a necklace that I'd bought from a shifty-eyed Perenisian in Vernacká. It was a tooth, and by his words, 'The largest Gray Maned Wolf canine I'd ever seen in my life.' I didn't know what a gray maned wolf was, nor did I have the inclination to pretend like I knew. Images conjured up in my head of Welks that ran on four legs, feral in everything from body to mind. It was enough to catch my attention and get me to part with four scraps of copper -- that could have been a hot meal for that night.

Then, just beside it, something I never even knew had existed until after Captain Alva had introduced me to the wonders of the world outside of Port Ronald. A traveling merchant -- if he could even be called that; I'd rather liken him to a scholar and inventor -- toting the marvels of a device that captured one's very own likeness to absolute perfection. It was like a painting, though it lacked any colour beside grey and black. It's resemblance to me was eerily uncanny. Like staring into a mirror that had been permanently burned with the reflection of a Vulper that looked rather stiff and annoyed, yet was somehow filled with child-like joy at the wonders of the modern world. Those long minutes that I had to spend sitting so very perfectly still were well worth the price -- 75 copper. To this day, I had yet to see something as miraculous as it.

These were my collection of goods -- the only things that had ever truly caught my eye for some reason or another. I treasured them dearly, for I had not much else to call my own save for the rotating assortment of clothes I carried on my back, and the thoughts I'd always call my own.

Lingering here, while thinking back on the things that I -- that we -- had done since shipping out of Port Ronald, gave me enough time to mentally prepare for the rest of my long morning. Physically? I was more than ready. I could almost feel my body twitching with an itch to get up and get to work as silent protest against my complacency. Mentally? It always took me more than a few minutes.

There it was again -- longing. How I wished, for just a moment, to be back at the Golden Trident, all wrapped up in Natél's strong arms and broad chest.

Habit and routine are what got me through my morning tasks. These were the things that I'd done for so long, so repeatedly, that they now came to me as second nature and were no longer viewed as the annoyances that they'd once been.

I did my rounds around the Winding Gale, looking out for anything that may be out-of-place or missing entirely. Watchmen were always posted by the docks, but one could never be too certain these days. Thankfully enough, with the ship as empty as it was with lack of cargo, there was little I had to look for. I lingered for a few seconds outside my captain's cabin, intently listening for any signs of life, till at last I caught the sound of a sudden and loud snore. She was there, at least, so deeply asleep that only the explosion of cannonfire would have woken her.

There was a watchman who stood guard just between the Winding Gale and the other merchant's ship that had docked directly across from us. Stiff as a plank, that Sommerian, dressed in uniform of black and gold reminiscent of Imperial colours. For a moment I couldn't help but watch him -- stiff jaw, as if ready to take a hit; straight and proper posture, with squared shoulders and a slight puff to his slim chest; both legs stamped flat to the ground, slightly parted, feet firmly pointed straight ahead; one hand was folded across his back, the other held tight to the pommel of a deceivingly simple straight sword. Our eyes met, my blue to his grey, and for a very small moment he nodded his head and gave me the briefest of smiles. The hard and cold exterior gave way to a rather delicate softness. I waved at the watchman, muttered a silent thanks for his nighttime vigil, and finally turned my attention to the rest of my tasks.

As the sun's first few rays of golden light began to peek over the towering cliffs of the Isle of Ronald, I found myself on my hands and knees, scrubbing away at the upper deck of the Winding Gale. It was not a necessity, I knew this, but it's something that I'd found myself doing on a near-daily basis ever since...

Three weeks. For three weeks I scrubbed at that part of the deck. It -- the blood -- was all gone; I knew that my mind was playing tricks on me. But what if it wasn't a trick? Someone could come by, see the stains, ask questions where they didn't belong. I held the brush harder within my hands and scrubbed with renewed vigour at bloody stains that weren't there. I could still taste it on the back of my tongue, its acidic and metallic scent wafting up to burn my sinuses and imprint itself into the forefront of my thoughts. For three weeks I had scrubbed, cleaned, and tried to will it all away. I washed it down time and time again until the palms of my hands had gone raw with effort. Yet every morning, much like this one, I'd come out on deck and I'd see it there again.

I scrubbed until I was sure it wasn't there again. I'd lost track of time, yet found that Captain Alva was rousing from her sleep just as I finally took the moment to catch my breath and straighten out the kinks in my spine. Each painful and satisfying pop placed me back into reality. Then I groaned, and felt myself shiver as I heard my captain call out to me, much in the way that she always did whenever she knew that I had spent my night aboard our vessel.

Out of instinct I reached for my collar -- it was Captain Alva's voice that made me think of it, so used had I become to the clinking of copper tags and its tight embrace around my neck. Still there; thank the gods. I swallowed and felt it momentarily tighten around me. Then, with a small breath, I put it out of my thoughts and focused on more pressing matters.

My captain wanted for very specific things whenever she awoke from one of her deeper slumbers, and thus expected me to be there for assistance. One call was all that I'd get as a warning -- some days she wouldn't say anything if I didn't show up on time, on other days I wouldn't hear the end of it. Rather than risk my luck, I found it easier to be standing at the foot of her bed by the time she'd fully stretched out and licked her chops.

"Vulp," she said to me rather tersely while fighting through a second yawn. I knew that mornings weren't her thing. My captain could very well have spent the rest of the long hours laying in bed while waiting for the midday sun to finally beat overhead. But she also wasn't one to just sit idly by, despite appearances.

"Mornin', Captain." Not a good morning -- gods, she hated it when I said that. What's so good about the mornings, she'd say to me. And I, well... I had no answer. Not that it needed an answer, but with the way she looked at me, it had almost felt like she'd expected me to say something. "Restful sleep?"

"Eugh." She dismissed my question with a slight shake of her large hand as the other went up to shield her eyes from the dim lighting of her cabin's surroundings. So sensitive to light... Either most Welks were like her, or she was just a special case. Both felt like they'd be equally as likely. I didn't recall Natél struggling to keep his eyes open, but then again he'd already been awake by the time --

She reached for a cup that I had already set out on a small bedside table of solid blisterwood -- it had a naturally off-white colour, like clouds of smoke had been burned onto the bark. A sturdy material for furniture; it held up well after a year of Captain Alva's neglectful abuse.

I watched as she swirled that rocks glass in her hands, staring and sniffing at its yellowish contents, before turning her eyes to me. "The fifty-seven?"

With a shake of my head, I corrected my captain, "Redguard Label, Captain. It's the-"

"Eight-four."

I smiled as she brought the chipped end of the glass to her mouth, stopping just short of letting the liquor slip between her lips. I don't know if something had flashed across her mind or if she was simply taking a moment to look me over once again. Perhaps she merely went through a stray thought that gave her some slight pause.

My captain took a deep sniff, those large black nostrils flaring wide open, before she pulled the cup away from her lips. I frowned, biting on the inside of my lip, and asked the only question that came to mind, "Something the matter, Captain?"

"Where's yours?"

"Mine, Captain?"

"Who else?"

"I..." Swallow. It was just a question -- not a very often-asked question, admittedly. There was nothing wrong in the tone of her voice. Not angry or upset. Just... curious? Meant that I hadn't done anything wrong yet; "... haven't served myself any, Captain."

"Well," with the hand that still held the glass she motioned to a cabinet across the cabin; it's where Captain Alva stored most of her drinks, and from which I'd fished out the rum, "get to it. I'll wait."

Not being one to pass up an opportunity to share a drink with my captain, I happily got to doing as she asked of me. I did try to keep my excitement in check, but there was little hiding the erratic twitching of my long tail as I searched for a clean glass and found that same bottle of rum I'd gotten for her. The Redguard Label Eight-Four came from a province near Sommeria's South Border province, where the vast deserts that encompassed most of the kingdom began to turn into rolling plains of arid land and sparse trees.

... Or so read the bottle on its back label. When I'd asked Captain Alva of it, she had merely huffed and told me not to trust everything I saw. For this one instance, however, I chose to believe. I'm sure that my imagination painted a far more interesting picture than reality.

She raised her glass in the air, as did I, and then said rather flatly to me, "To better times," at which I clinked the rim of my cup against hers before finally savouring the liquor I'd found myself craving.

"To better times," I echoed while struggling to keep tears out of my eyes. The rum -- it burned badly. Settled awfully in my stomach. But I knew better than to say no when Captain Alva asked me to drink with her. Reflexively I swallowed again, as if to ease the fire burning in the pit of my body, while doing my best to emulate my captain's indifference to the rum.

She could have drank through the whole bottle before even feeling a slight tinge of pain.

"Ahah! Feeling it now, are you?"

"S-Somewhat," I stammered, before flashing my captain an attempt at a disarming smile. Not wanting to show any weakness, as she'd often drilled into my head. Strength in all things. Much like Natél, now that I really thought of it. The two of them... they'd get along, if only they spoke with one another. Certainly enough, there were some differences. Natél was a proper Imperial, while Captain Alva was... whatever it is that she considered herself to be.

How deeply he'd buried himself into my thoughts, that even in the presence of my captain I couldn't help but linger on him for far longer than I should have. Perhaps I did the same for him, or maybe this was more of a one-sided affair than I cared to admit.

The rest of my morning was spent assisting my captain. She didn't need my help. Far from that, in fact. Captain Alva was as fiercely independent as she was stubborn in her ways. But my captain rather demanded that I helped get her ready for the rest of the day. It was...

Well, in truth, it was a good feeling. The least I could ever hope to do is be of some use to her. She had done so much for me, after all. She had...

"Hey, you Vulp. C'mere."

Knocked right out of my train of thought, but it stayed there, in the back of my mind, nipping away at my thoughts as I moved to where my captain was. She had slipped into a soft and weather-beaten shirt, dirtied beyond recognition after years of constant use. Like almost everything else on this ship, it smelled exactly like her. Tobacco, rum, meat, and something smoky and bitter and sweet. Not quite fruits, not quite lemons, not quite charcoal.

I was practically cradled against her body as she sat back on a nearby table, allowing me the moment to slowly and carefully button up her shirt. My fingers only briefly teased at the hem of her trousers as I got the bottom-most clasp together, although the farther up I went the more emboldened I felt by my captain's now wide-eyed stare, along with the way she almost seemed to puff out her chest the more my eyes lingered on her. I couldn't help but touch some of her fur as I started getting to her chest, where for a moment I caught a glimpse of her small breasts. As coarse and unwelcoming as her fur was, as if tailor-made to make others not want to approach my captain, I couldn't help but feel drawn to it -- to her.

Almost purred when her hand fell on my head. Words of praise and encouragement. Something like, "Good lad," or, "Always so attentive." To my shame, I hadn't been paying much attention. I never could, when I was so focused on everything else about my captain.

She wasn't quite like... well, she was different from Natél. Whereas his touch was gentle and comforting, hers was almost... possessive, in a manner. Tight and firm hold, as if to tell me that I wouldn't be going anywhere without her consent. Where his words melted like butter in my ears, hers felt chilly, and lingered, and set something in me that wasn't quite fear, nor anxiety, nor stress.

Captain Alva treated me as if she'd truly keep me from any danger. It felt that way sometimes, but recently? No... I shouldn't have been thinking about these things. They were wrong, and it wasn't fair to her. But ever since we docked at The Port, I couldn't help but feel so very...

... Expendable.

"Something on your mind?" she asked me. I was on my knees now, aiding my captain with her boots. Heavy things -- had to be, when they were made for a Welk. Had to support their body weight, and hold up under the pressure of each of their heavy footsteps. Male, female; it didn't really matter who they were made for.

"Nothing, Captain." I lied through my teeth. I had to. There was no point in bringing it up any longer, was there? She said it to me already -- stop asking stupid questions. But I couldn't stop thinking. So much thinking. Natél looking me dead in the eyes and telling me that, for lack of a better word, he truly cared about me. Only known me for a few days, and yet, I felt the truth in his words. Something I hadn't sensed in a very long time.

Not even with my captain. The last time she'd made me feel that way... Gods, must have been shortly after I came aboard her vessel, back when --

Her bare foot came up; nudged just under my chin. One of those hooked falcon-like claws just barely managed to nick the skin under the short tuft of chin-fur. "Distracted again."

"Forgive me, Captain. I was just... thinking. That's all." I switched to her other foot once I'd safely secured the laces of the first. This other boot had seen better days -- would have to get her a new pair soon. Maybe sometime this week, assuming that... assuming that things went well.

My captain huffed from above me as her hand fell away from my head. The toes of her foot clenched as tight as her jaw as something between a growl and a snarl formed at the back of her throat. She let it out, if only to draw my gaze back up to her one good eye, so that she could stare me down while offering up her one simple and inelegant advice:

"Stop thinking."

"Of course, Captain," I muttered under my breath as I turned my attention back to her foot. In my hands I held her boot, and yet for a single moment I did nothing but think. Where Captain Alva told me to simply not think, I knew that Natél would have indulged my thoughts; and where that Welk might have merely listened to what I had to say with an attentive ear, I knew that Sister Ada would have prodded me to go a little further, just beyond the initial impression of my words.

Stop thinking.

For the next few minutes I worked in silence, ear flat to my head, while I struggled to fit her foot into the boot. I kept repeating that phrase to myself, muttering it with my inner voice, then burning it into my thoughts with an imaginary branding iron. Stop thinking. And yet, the more I said it to myself, the less I believed those words, and the more I wanted to think.

I should have felt guilty of what I was doing. It was... wrong. Comparing Captain Alva to them wasn't fair for... it wasn't fair for her. She was just different. I'd always known this. Difficult at times, but not inherently bad. But I couldn't stop myself. They would have given me a sure answer; none of that in-between nonsense that Captain Alva had fed me the night before. They would have told me if they'd be willing to defend me or abandon me to the hounds. They wouldn't have left me uncertain of the future. They...

They weren't her. She wasn't them.

As I watched my captain slump back on a lounging chair, legs spread wide open and long arms cast over each of the armrests so that her fingertips almost reached the floor, I found myself thinking: why couldn't she be more like them?

"Easy with the claws," she commanded as I set my hands around her neck, or... at least I tried. Too wide of a neck, thick and sturdy like the trunk of a tree, and my hands were far too small for me to significantly hold her in my grasp.

Morning massage -- she always awoke so tense.

"Captain," I began, and waited a moment for her reply. She turned her head a little as I threaded my fingers through the mane of white and black fur to dig them onto the muscle beneath her skin. Everything just underneath shivered with my touch. With her eye closed, Captain Alva made a sickening noise with the back of her throat -- permission to speak; "may I ask you a question?"

Hadn't said no outright, but didn't say yes either. I passed my hands to the back of her neck, where I worked at massaging away a ball of muscle with the palm of my hand. I could have buried my nose in her fur and lost myself in her scent, so powerful it was early in the mornings.

Perhaps I should have let things remain in the comfortable silence in which they'd been, as I usually did whenever I got to massaging my captain's shoulders. Too late now -- I'd opened my mouth and gotten her attention. I could see it in the way she turned her head a little more, and with how her ears twitched and turned, as if to hear me better, and also with how her lips curled to reveal rows of yellow teeth when I didn't speak up for a minute.

"Just wondering," I said, careful to pick words, not wishing to annoy my captain so quickly after her having woken, "what you plan on doing once this is all over?"

"Over?" She paused, swallowed hard -- I felt her neck swell beneath my fingertips as the wad of saliva traveled down her throat -- and asked; "what do you mean?"

"I mean, you know..." I ran my hands a little down her shoulders, not quite far enough to get at her arms, "once this whole thing blows over, and we leave Port Ronald."

"Have not thought about it."

"Ah... right." She'd think of something. She always did. "I was thinking..."

"Thinking, thinking," I could feel the roll of her eye as she said that, "always thinking."

"Sorry, Captain, I just... Well, just thinking back to those days."

"Which days?"

"Back when you first found me," I whispered, and couldn't help the way my lips quirked into the slightest of smiles. At least she couldn't see it with the way I stood behind her back. Back up along her shoulders my fingers went, as I felt them tense slightly at the words I'd spoken. I just wanted her to relax a little more -- she was far too tense; "here, at The Port. I don't know... just hard to believe it's been almost two years, hm?"

"Hm."

I... I couldn't tell if that had been a good noise or not. She just crossed her arms right beneath her small breasts and... well, she remained silent, staring directly at the wall opposite of her. I looked up for a moment, gazing at the couple of things my captain had mounted on the walls. Some sea charts I'd never seen her use, a few harpoons that had long lost their luster, and... nothing more of interest, in reality. Nothing to draw my attention, at the very least.

Not knowing any better, I continued, "What I mean to say is that, well, we've certainly been through a lot, haven't we?"

More silence from her end. I almost touched her face. Almost. Just barely managed to regain my focus and stop myself before the tips of my fingers teased anywhere above her jawline.

"Remember that time in Vernacká, when we-"

"Vulp."

My ear twitched at the sound of my name. Obediently enough, much like a trained hound, I stopped all that I did and looked to her -- more accurately, I looked to the back of the head. I noted the way she dipped her head a little, as if in thought, then caught the sound of what was, unmistakably, an annoyed sigh.

I'd... done wrong?

"C-Captain?" I stammered, shallow breath following suit as I once again busied myself with the careful and controlled massage I'd begun to give her.

"Quiet down."

I... I hadn't meant. I just wanted to... "... I just..." wanted to thank her.

"Just what, you fucking Vulp?"

"I just wanted to-" Why did it feel like I couldn't breathe? "-thank you."

I backed off during all this. Something about the direction which our conversation took made being near my captain feel... wrong.

"Well..." She had turned herself around to look at me. At the sight of her softening glare I straightened myself out and set my hands behind my back. The only proper way to stand whenever my captain was looking at me, even if it often slipped my mind. "... yes. You can thank me. You should be thanking me."

"That's what I was trying to -- yes."

"After all," she turned away again and called me over with a roll of her shoulders -- she was not yet satisfied with the effort I'd already put behind massing her. If it were up to my captain, and it often was, I'd be at it for the rest of the morning; "who else would have taken you in?"

In silence I worked, threading my hands into the mane of fur that began to run down the length of her spine. Despite its tough consistency, her fur tucked itself neatly into her shirt. The complete look made Captain Alva give off an impression that was not at all dissimilar to the royal plumage of some exotic birds I'd seen during my travels. Palpris came to mind, with its small tropical jungles full of so many odd creatures and strange plants.

"Vulp," came her deep and heavy voice, pulling me out of my thoughts but for a moment, "I asked you a question."

"Not many others would have, Captain," I said while pressing down near her spine. Tough muscle, that of a Welk. Yet beneath their appearances and relatively thick and coarse coats of fur, their skin was some of the softest I'd ever touched. Softer than a Sommerian, that's for sure, and almost comparable to that of a Perenisian. In fact, now that I thought of it, Captain Alva's skin was almost as soft as-

She cleared her throat, creating a sort of vile and phlegmy sound that came only from the cleansing of sinuses. My captain reached up and, with a sigh, undid the knot that held her eye patch together. She held it in her hands while casting a glance around the room, before telling me in no fancy words, "Get me another drink."

"Anything in particular?"

"Just get me something."

"Would you like me to join you?"

"And who said you could?"

"Right, right. Sorry, Captain. Give me a moment."

I took my time because I knew that my captain was in no hurry. There were hardly any moments when she had some pressing matters to attend to so quickly after having woken up, and if those moments did come, she certainly wouldn't have spent them with me at her beck and call, massaging her shoulders and pouring out drinks of strong-tasting and eye-burning liquor.

This time I opted for some whiskey -- just a little something to change up what she usually enjoyed drinking. No need to wonder if she'd like it or not; when it came from her personal liquor cabinet, I knew that there were no wrong answers. As I poured it out, though, I found myself once again falling into that train of thought that Captain Alva had so abruptly taken me out of.

Sister Ada was the closest that I'd ever gotten to a Perenisian. Not quite like Natél, with him being my first experience with a Welk, but I could count on my hand the number of times I'd ever been intimate with one of the felines. It wasn't for a lack of trying, either, but one often found so little time to do anything recreational when hopping around from island to island.

Was that wrong of me? Perhaps, a couple of days ago, I would have found myself sickened at the mere thought of seeing Sister Ada in such a way, as someone with whom I could get intimate with. No, not because I found her unattractive. Far from that -- even if I wasn't a believer in the Church of Penance, there was something that was borderline... sacrilegious, considering the things I'd thought of doing to that nun.

Now, those thoughts didn't feel so wrong. Strange, perhaps, and a little confusing as well, and even a little disconcerting at times, but more often than anything I found myself hopefully excited of what may come to pass. Just thinking of Sister Ada right now made me... My mouth watered when I thought of her taste. It'd been too long since I had something as deliciously feminine as her. It alleviated a need that I'd been craving for a very long time.

I'd never met someone who was so unquestionably kind; so willing to see the good in others, despite the things they've done. Even compared to my captain -- I watched as she tipped the glass against her lips and guzzled down the cupful of whiskey in one hard gulp -- who, despite her own moments of kindness, did not indisputably believe that everyone was deserving of it at all times.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I could almost see myself in Sister Ada's arms. Her embrace was warm, and comforting, and safe. She... she would keep me safe, wouldn't she?

She would.

Why couldn't I see this with Captain Alva? Her embrace was rather cold and unforgiving, and instead of reassuring me of what should have been an easy fact, it set doubt in my heart. She wouldn't really let them... would she let the Imperial Service take me? After all I'd done for her.

I'd killed for her.

"Hey!" Snapped back to attention. I almost jumped in my spot. Barely enough time to keep myself from digging my claws into her tender skin. Wouldn't know what to do if I'd actually done that -- run? She'd have caught me. Take the punishment? I dreaded even thinking about what Captain Alva would do to me; "What in hells has you so fucking distracted, you Vulp?"

Nothing like the genuine comfort of Sister Ada's warm words, nor did it have the care and attention that Natél would express with his equally-as-blunt questions. Nothing like them. Just more of herself. More of that angry, untrustworthy, lying...

"Do you even care?"

Bitter and raw. So tasted my words as they left my lips. The taste of our morning glass of rum. Instinct overrode all other thoughts and actions. It was that tingling at the back of my neck -- such an intense warning that something very wrong had happened, and that I needed to act now.

Run. Hide. Get away from her. Apologize. I had to - "C-Captain, I..."

She was standing so tall now and tenser than she'd been before I began her morning massage. Those broad Welkish shoulders rolled and squared off, while her large head so suddenly jerked up, then down, and finally to the side and cocked slightly to the left; every little movement accompanied by the sickening crack of... something reminiscent of snapping bones.

It almost looked like she'd let off a disappointed sigh. Almost. If it hadn't been for her eye, which now peered from between squinted lids with Welkish wrath, then I'd have done something more: actually apologize, or excuse myself, or even fell to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. Anything was better than nothing, yet nothing was what I did when her eye froze me on the spot.

She didn't run at me. In fact, she gave me all the time in the world to back off. It didn't mean that she wasn't already thinking of ways to put me in my place. With every slow step she took, my captain tightly clenched her hand into a balled-up fist, momentarily threatening to dig her claws into her own palms, before she slowly released the hold she had on herself. Was her head throbbing? Were her ears ringing? I knew mine were. The sound of it was deafening.

"What was that?" my captain asked me as she finally got into what others might have called my personal space. Less than a foot away from me. I dared not look up at her, so instead I settled my sturdy gaze at eye-level to the midsection of her hard and tight torso. Her hand, so torturously slowly, gripped me by the collar of my shirt -- her claws dug fresh holes into the rough and dirty fabric. "Say it, you fucking Vulper."

It felt like I was swallowing razor blades. Her proximity chilled me to the core. "I... I mean-"

"You say something that wasn't exactly what I heard you say," hummed my Captain, her voice so low now that, even for me, it was unmistakable to that of a male Welk, "and I am going to rip out your throat." Another crack as her head cocked to the other side. Then she squatted, low as she could go, till her knees jutted out to either side of my body, and her face was level with mine. I was forced to look her in the eyes when I tried to cast my gaze down by the very real threat of a claw pressed tight against the dimple of my neck. With every breath I tasted rum, raw meat, tobacco, and a few month's worth of an indescribable built-up stench. It was death -- I tasted death in her breath. "Are we clear?"

The amount of concentration needed to keep myself from stammering through my reply was... My head ached and, dreadfully enough, my eyes burned hard. Blink it away, and don't think about it. Staring into her one good eye, I said to her, "Crystal clear, Captain," which easily enough earned a tense little smile out of her. Misleading and deceitful -- I'd learned that one the hard way.

"Go on then, you Vulp," That claw she held against that so-delicate part of my throat pushed further in. For the briefest of moments, I found it impossible to breathe; "and repeat what you said."

Steady voice. Controlled breath. Natél's words rang in my head -- his little trick for life. Strength.

"Do you even care, Captain?"

She replied, "Of course I care."

To which I swallowed, caught another breath, and said to her, "It-It doesn't feel that way, Captain."

With an open palm, Captain Alva struck me on the side of the head. It hurt, but I bit down on the inside of my bottom lip and remained as still as possible. I wasn't about to give her an excuse to come after me more than she already had. "Are you insane?"

"Captain, I... I'm sorry."

"You have truly and utterly gone mad, haven't you?" Another, harder, strike. I could feel my headache flaring up again. Even despite my best intention, I flinched at the approach of her hand by turning my head away slightly, inadvertently causing that claw to dig into my skin. It was nothing more than a pinprick at first, but the burn of it intensified with every rapid beat of my heart, until a fire burned across the surface of my throat. Blood -- I could feel blood.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Have you forgotten everything?" Her other hand, it came down across my forearm, gripping it tight before I could pull it away. Bone-crushing strength. Like the claw that dug into the delicate flesh of my throat, these began to push in along the length of my forearm, drawing blood, causing fire.

It hurt so much.

"Please, Captain."

Just make it end.

"Everything I've done for you," she breathed; the claw on my throat came down to my collarbone while those across my forearm wriggled in deeper yet. She tore skin and muscle. She wanted to get at my bone; "for two years of your life, Vulp."

"Capta-"

She cut in, entirely disregarding my words by choice, or perhaps she was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even register the things I was saying. Just moving lips to her. The hand that gripped to my forearm trembled so hard that it shook my entire arm. I bit through my lip in a vain attempt at fighting through the pain -- now I tasted the blood that so liberally coated her fingers and dripped onto her the wooden flooring of her cabin.

"I. Saved. You."

A whimper was forced out of me. My ear fell flat to my head. Tail slunk deep between my legs. When I tried to yank my arm away, she only dug her onyx and ivory claws deeper into the muscle. The other hand reached around to grab me by the back of my head, a grip so tight I feared that she was going to tear the fur from my scalp.

"Homeless street rat. Crawling around in your own shit. You were nothing before I found you. I didn't even need to take you in."

It hurt. It fucking hurt. She'd proven her point. I'd tried to apologize. I was sorry!

"I fed you. I gave you clothes. I provided you with a home." Her head dipped to the side -- she was referring to the ship; this was my home. "I gave your pathetic and meaningless life purpose. This is the thanks that I get? Openly questioning my intentions, even after all I've done for you."

Those claws didn't seek out my bones any further, but they remained in place. Keeping the wounds open. So hyper-focused I was on her eye that the world around me blurred out of existence. She once again squinted and bared her yellow fangs, yet somehow managed to maintain a relatively calm tone of voice.

"You are pathetic."

"I swear to you, Captain, I never meant-"

"Someone needs to put you in your place."

I seized up when her eye fell to the top of my head. She didn't mean...

"Come on, Captain. I... I said I was -" The words were choked out of me as the hand that had so casually been teasing at my collarbone suddenly fell around my neck. Not the searing grip which she'd left me with just the morning before -- I could still breathe -- but just enough for me to feel her fingers tense with every little breath she took. It meant to say, there was nowhere that I could run.

"Not good enough, you Vulp." I stifled a whining cry as I felt her claws dig out from my forearm, rending skin from flesh, leaving me with four small punctures barely hidden by my blood-soaked fur. "I have an idea."

"Captain, please. I'm sorry." I couldn't even speak without a tremble to my voice. She knew it as well as I did: I was afraid.

"Shut up." With a hand still wrapped just above my collar -- it squeezed as if to remind me of its existence -- Captain Alva reached for her belt and... a knife, small and serrated, sharp as the claws that cut through those two that had been killed aboard our ship. I knew this because... because...

She did it on purpose, holding it up to my eyes so that I couldn't pretend like I hadn't seen it. Her broad smile was at odds with the dangerous look in her eye, in the sense that Captain Alva didn't even reveal a hint of emotion in it. I could see no sadness, nor any form of anger, or even joy at what she was doing to me. Unless indifference was an emotion.

Captain Alva acted as if this were just another part of her morning routine.

"Lift your ear."

"I don't..." I gulped and tried to turn my eyes away. Her response was to grip my neck tighter, digging the heel of her palm right where her claw had previously dug a tiny hole. "Please, Captain."

"Lift it."

"This isn't necessary!" I pleaded, my dying breath half-choked as she thrashed me with a quick push and pull of her arm.

"Do as I say, boy!"

"N-No!" I desperately grabbed her arm and tried to turn my head away as I felt the jagged blade of her knife press against the base of my ear.

"Keep thrashing like that," she hissed, "and it won't be a clean cut."

"I'm sorry!"

"Hold still, you fucking Vulp."

"I'm sorry..." I couldn't help it anymore -- the tears burned as badly as the wounds on my arm.

"Shut up," she said again, voice as low as she could get it, as her eye darted to something else in the room. Her hand was so steady... as still as a statue. Held the blade just close enough that I could feel its serrated edge, so that if I tried to move in one direction or the other it would be sure to slice open my ear. "Feel that?"

I couldn't bring myself to reply.

"I could take your ear right now, Vulper, same as I did the other -- look at me! It wouldn't hurt me, no no no... no it wouldn't hurt me at all. You know what does end up hurting me? Guess, Vulper. Go on, before I lose my patience."

Wider eye now. Her smile faltered, lips curled into themselves. Tight-lipped. "Y-Your... uh... I don't know how to answer that, Captain."

"Speak up!" She screamed into my ear.

"I don't know how to answer that, Captain!" I yelled back as I felt spittle spray at my face when she breathed out.

"It hurts me," her hand turned, and the blade shifted from being held against my ear to having the tip of it pointed at the back of my head, cutting through my fur, digging into the skin, "when you show a lack of trust in me, you Vulp. Do you not trust me?"

"I-"

"Of course you do." She smiled. "So don't go around making me think that you don't trust me anymore, hm? It really... it really sets something fierce in me, you know?" Her hand fell to her side. I could finally breathe, knowing that the blade wasn't as much a danger any longer. Still, it didn't keep me from looking away. I felt this as much as I knew it -- anything could have set her off. "Makes me really want to -- Uhnf, you know?"

"I... I think I do."

"You think?"

"I understand entirely."

"Good." Her long tongue slunk from between her lips, licking away at her jaw before slapping wet against her nose. "Good! Good Vulper. Good lad! I've always said that you were smart for a Vulper, didn't I? I did! Always said it!" She stood. Her hand fell from around my throat. "Now, apologize for what you did."

Captain Alva's stance widened. Confrontational. Daring me to do anything other than as she requested. From what I could see, her tail was lazily swinging from one leg to another. She held her hands against her hips but made no attempt at hiding her knife -- somewhere along the way, the blade had been stained with my blood. The heel of a heavy boot beat against the wooden deck. Heavy, laboured breathing. The slight squint of an eye, dilation of the pupil, clenching of teeth. A growl forming deep within her chest.

Why did I have to be the one?

"Captain..."

Why should I apologize?

"I'm..." Swallow. Breathe. Relax. It was over -- it hurt, but it was over.

She should be apologizing to me... right?

"I'm sorry."

I wasn't in the wrong... Gods damn it, I didn't do any wrong!

"Please forgive me."

She bent a little, towering overhead, looking down on me. Her teeth were like the jagged rocks of the Howling Coast, her voice as cold and unforgiving as the bitter winds that often brought doom to the ships that strayed too close to that infamous wall of death.

"Good lad. Good lad. I'm glad you've come to your senses."

***

Kicked out of my ship again.

Our ship.

Her ship.

She said to me as I left, with a hand on my shoulder to feign an attempt at comforting me, that I should take the day to think about what I'd done, and truly come to my senses, and to come back tonight with a clearer head. She was willing to put all this behind us

Had she told me this yesterday, I would have bought her words. Ate it all up without a second of doubt crossing my mind. Yesterday I would have believed everything that Captain Alva had said to me. Why did I have any reason to doubt her.

After all she'd done for me, right?

And yet now her words felt... disingenuous. Empty and cold. Half-truths and white lies. Racketeering Perenisians at the Harbourside Bazaar felt far more trustworthy than Captain Alva.

But I couldn't say anything to her face. No... no, I could never say anything to her -- nothing that would set her off again. Always had to be careful about what I thought and what I said and how I acted around her. Needed to be perfect in every sense of the word. Perfect for her. Always perfect.

I'd tried so fucking hard. Why couldn't Captain Alva, at the very least, acknowledge that? The Imperial Service be damned. To hells with the lack of promises when it came to my safety! Why couldn't she just... Why didn't she acknowledge me?

No way that I could meet with Natél again; not this morning, and certainly not after what just transpired. My arm ached -- bloody bandages wrapped around where her claws had dug into me; at least it'd stopped bleeding -- and I had a horrible headache. I wouldn't be able to stand his incessant questions. The probing and prying and... as badly as I wanted to be in his arms, I couldn't do it. The Welk could forgive my being late for a couple of hours. Give me time to think, and to clear my head of all these strange thoughts I didn't want in me. Thoughts of wanting to be rid of my captain. I felt dirty.

I just needed to be alone for a few hours.

So I wandered the bazaar again, then dipped further into Port Ronald. Made sure to keep well enough away from the Trident, just in case Natél was hanging about there without my knowledge. North-west, then, where the buildings all closed in a little tighter around me. This part of The Port was all alleys and narrow roads, one after another, as packed with people as the comparatively spacious harbour. While all of Port Ronald could be likened to a maze with the way its roads would twist and turn and branch, there at least one could find some semblance of sense and reason. Not here -- these moist, hot alleys were truly labyrinthian in nature.

A holdover from Port Ronald's early days. This small yet dense district was known as the Old Port for a reason.

It was easy to get lost here. One had to be knowledgeable of the ins and outs of Old Port. Although I first doubted myself -- it had been two years since I last came here -- I found that my years of running through these alleys were starting to come back to me. Weaving between Perenisians and Welks, ducking into an open-faced restaurant that connected across both ends of the building with no right to smell as good as it did, giving a wide berth to that one Sommerian that looked a tad bit more unhinged than I was comfortable with, before coming to a stop in front a small and nameless bar that had been relegated to a small and somewhat desolate corner of the Old Port.

Fenzi's was the place, from what last I remembered of it, although it had changed hands and names so many times while I lived here that I could very well be wrong about it now. It was still the same old place, however. Still as cramped as it had always been. The same old standing tables that could barely fit more than two people comfortably. Still as rundown as it had always been, yet somehow perfectly preserved in time. Not one thing had changed, for better or for worse.

That was... it was a surprisingly comforting realization. Some things didn't change.

Whiskey, to soothe the nerves. I'd barely set dirty snifter down before someone, a Perenisian, came in through the front door. She instantly caught my eye, and when we saw one another -- that smile; I knew who it was.

She dressed rather... differently. I wouldn't have taken her to be a nun of the Church had we met under these circumstances. Her low-cut black shirt left little to the imagination. A pair of large hooped earrings dangled from each of her thin and slender ears. Those brilliantly golden eyes sparkled as they caught a ray of sunlight at just the right angle. Her smile was as warm as all the times that I'd met her in the church. Not a hint of the religion for which she'd been so devoted for. Sister Ada had completely transformed herself into an entirely different person. It was...

Well, I couldn't lie to myself. It was a good look. Even the way she held herself -- so casual and carefree. Just another one of the thousands in Port Ronald. She fit in just fine.

"Drinking," she began, not as a question but rather a flat statement, "so early in the morning." In her hands she'd been carrying a small wicker basket full of herbs both familiar and strange. Sister Ada set it down between the two of us and leaned against the solid wooden standing table, her long and slender tail raising high overhead so that I could get a better look at it. She shook her head, though still smiled at me, and said, "A man's vices..."

"Forgive me, Sister-"

"Nope!" She raised her index finger in warning, wagging it from side-to-side just in front of her playful little smile. Gods, I wouldn't have believed that she was a year over her twenties, had it not been for her greying fur and the odd comment she'd previously made of her age. "Not Sister. Not out here. Just call me Ada."

"Ada." I smiled. Felt good to say it like that. Not Madame, or Sister, but simply her name as it should have been. Fit her new look perfectly. Like speaking with a close friend. "Uh... curious to see you out here."

"So far from the church?"

I nodded.

"Well, I do have to go out sometimes, you know?" She leaned a little more against the table. I couldn't help the drift of my eyes -- already thinking of her in more ways than the superficial friendship we seemed to share. She couldn't have been blind to what she was doing. "Did you expect me to hole up inside the church at all hours of the day?"

"I... I didn't mean to-"

"I tease, Vulp! Don't look so afraid." Her smile faltered a little, from bright to curious, as her head tilted a little to the side. "Truth is I don't come around these parts very often. Old Port -- you know what they say." I didn't, actually. "But I was out getting a few things at the Harbourside and, well, I saw you. I will admit, I got a little curious, and ended up following you..." she cast her eyes around the small bar, either with a look of mild concern or simple amusement. Perhaps both; "... here."

"Right... right..." She'd just been following me this entire time? "I, ah..."

"This is where you escape to when you're not visiting my church, hm?"

"N-No. Not really. Not since-" Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but then she stopped herself and allowed me the chance to finish, "... I made it back."

"Ahah, so this was your hiding hole."

"In a way, yes." I pressed the tip of my middle finger against the table -- Ada looked to it, then turned back to my eyes. "Not the bar, but Old Port. I used to love it here."

"Here."

"Yes! It's so..."

"Different?"

"Exactly." She caught on quick, or I was very easy to read. "It's different. The other districts -- they are a lot of the same. Nice things. Pretty things. Interesting things. But a lot of the same. Does... does that make any sense?"

"Mhm."

"And... well, you've seen it." I nodded my head out the bar's door, referring now to Old Port as a whole. "If you need to hide..."

"Mhm?"

"Well... anyway," I made the attempt at clearing my throat -- came off a little more loudly than intended, but it didn't draw the attention of anyone else in the room. A couple odd glances, but that came from the combination of us too. Even with how casually she was dressed, Ada didn't look the part as someone who belonged to Old Port. Not worn-down enough. I felt like I fit in just fine. "I... ah... I'm actually glad to have run across you today, Ada."

She finally blinked, but said nothing in reply. I continued.

"Just wanted to talk about... you know." Shifted my eyes to the side again. Nobody was paying attention. Nothing worth worrying about in regards to talking about it out here. "The thing you're helping me with."

She shifted back, holding her arms out so that her hands held to the edge of the table, while she peered at me from squinting eyes. Ada licked at her thin lips with a rough feline tongue, cleared her throat, and responded rather cautiously, "Concerns? Doubts about what we're doing?"

"N-No!" I quickly reassured, unwittingly raising my voice a little too much. Others spared a quick glance in our direction. I immediately corrected myself. "Not at all, Ada. That's not what I -"

"Good." She smiled, more at herself, it seemed like, than to me. Satisfied little huff of air. Her shoulders slumped once again, and she rested the weight of her body back against the table much like I'd been doing. One hand fell around my untouched glass of whiskey -- Ada dragged it to her end of the table, but rather than drinking it she simply toyed with the rim of the cup. "I was afraid that I'd gone through all that effort for nothing."

"Effort, Sis -- Ada?"

Her eyes flitted down to that wicker basket full of herbs.

"Recognize any of those?"

"A few," I hummed.

"Name them."

"O...kay? Uh..." With a finger a lazily pointed at the ones I could actually name off the top of my head -- merely a handful, compared to the dozen others that she'd stuffed the basket with, "Druman's Axe," I began while pointed at a small flower with a rounded tip, "Folley Shade, Eridanae..." I let my voice fall to a whisper, "Ada, these are..."

"Things that will help us later tonight." She brought the basket closer to herself, and with a flick of a finger drew my eyes back up to hers. No need to worry over the contents of the basket anymore, nor the implications of what all those herbs mixed together would be. I had an inkling... just an idea, really. But I didn't want to jump to conclusions. It wouldn't have been fair to Sister Ada. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"Right," I whispered; reassurance more for myself than her, "of course. Nothing to worry about."

"Mhm." Her smile was infectious. "No doubts, then. But you're still feeling a little uncertain, aren't you?"

"Was it so obvious?"

"Yes," she replied both flatly along with mildly amused, "Anything you want to talk about right now?"

Here, or at the church -- did it really matter in the end? This was happening anyway. "Not sure if what we're doing is the right thing, Ada, or if this is really going to help me in the end." I let my eyes fall to the basket. In the back of my mind I knew what these were for. More from the rumours surrounding the Church of Penance and their rituals -- everyone always had a rumour. I shook my head and said, "Regardless of how I feel, I still wanted to thank you for trying to help me. It's... well, it is very much appreciated, Ada."

With a scoff and a slight shake of her head, Ada replied, "Well, I'm just happy to finally get the chance of helping someone again. It has been a while." Her long sigh spoke more than her words.

"A while since you helped anyone?" I asked -- must have come off a little incredulously because Ada looked back at me with a stare that, for a moment, chilled my core. Somewhat annoyed at what I'd said. It instantly warmed up after we looked to one another for more than a second.

"A while since anyone has come to my church, Vulp." She planted an elbow against the table and pointed at me with a lazy slender finger. "You're the first one to have gone through those doors in a very, very long time, my friend. Imagine my surprise when," she let off a singular, yet cheerful, laugh, "a Vulper comes through the doors looking for my help. Wouldn't have imagined it in my years as a Sister."

"Wait, wait." She blinked again. It was hard to not notice when those pools of gold suddenly went dark with how long she could go without blinking. "I can recall, from before I left The Port some two years ago that the Church was very, ah... established?" Established? No, that couldn't have been the right word. "Well known, Ada." Better.

She nodded with some understanding of what I was saying, but then spoke to me with a small frown that I didn't like seeing on her face. It wasn't fitting for somebody like her. "You spent the majority of those two years at sea, Vulp. Didn't you?"

"I did," I replied.

"Well, a lot can change in two years. That really isn't such a forward-thinking thought. We're not treading on new ground here. History is..." Her voice trailed off, and so did her eyes. She was looking down at her hands now.

"Ada?"

"... It's built on changes like that, in a sense. Quick change. Unexpected change." Unexpected change. "Do you know what a status quo is, Vulp?"

"I'm familiar with the term." A flat-faced lie, but I didn't want to distract her from these thoughts. This was... she even spoke like an entirely different person. The inflection in her voice, mannerisms, speech patterns -- small details that created a clear divide between Ada and Sister Ada.

"People grow comfortable with their status quo, hm? They like it when things do not change. They're comfortable where they are. But, people can't really keep change from happening either, as desperate as they might be to try. Sometimes life demands that the dynamic shifts from," she raised a hand to the left side of her head, "one end of the room," she raised her other hand to the right side of her head, "to the other. Are you getting me?"

"I am."

"When that happens... well, there's not much to do other than adapt." There was something closer to bitterness in her voice. "Adapt, or break."

I would have laughed, had it not been for the seriousness in her eyes. I couldn't look away. I swallowed, took a shaky breath of air, and said, "Is this what your holy books have taught?"

"No," she replied with a twisted little smirk that lasted but for only a second, "life taught me these lessons, Vulp."

"So... the church...?"

"The status quo shifted. I grew comfortable, and admittedly, I wasn't ready for that change. One day I woke up and I realized that the people had simply moved on. The Church of Penance had fallen out of favour. The signs were there from the start, of course. Years in advance, really, if you decide to look at it in hindsight. But I was blind to it, and so blissfully unaware of the coming tide." Without a moment's thought, Ada brought my glass of whiskey up to her lips and drank deeply. I didn't even try stopping her. With each hard gulp she seemed to melt deeper onto the table, until at last she gingerly set the glass back down from where she'd found it, half-empty now. "Wilfully, of course. I didn't want things to change."

I took a moment to collect my words. Without a moment's thought, I placed my hand atop hers, hoping that she found my warm touch comforting. Calloused hands atop soft ones -- it wasn't much, but it was the best that I could do.

"That must have been..." I swallowed down a quick breath, "eye-opening."

"Yes," confirmed Ada as she turned her hand around to better hold on to mine, "it really was. It was also very hard on me."

"And yet you remained?"

"Oh I cannot even begin to count the number of times that I considered packing what little I had to leave it all behind." She sighed, and added in a low tone that wasn't directed at me, "I've always wanted to go back to Gallaecia..."

"What kept you?"

"Hope?" She was unsure of herself. I could tell not just from her voice, but by the way she looked at me. It was almost like she was trying to get answers out of me. I had none for her, although part of me wished that I did. I squeezed down on her hand and threaded my fingers between hers. Ada seemed to appreciate that, at least. "Hope that things would go back to the way they were. Waiting for the day when someone would come in through those doors seeking my help once more."

"And then I came along."

"And then you came along," she whispered, and smiled.

For a long moment we stood in the silence of one another. Was there more to be said? Yes. I had just one last question. Something I needed to know. Ada, expectant as always, was already fully alert by the time I spoke up.

"Knowing what you know now, with me coming to you... well, if you had the opportunity, would you have done things differently?" I was quick to rephrase my question. "Was holding on for so long worth it, Ada?"

And, surprisingly enough, the Perenisian was quick to shake her head. "No, Vulp. It was not worth the wait. Don't misunderstand me, dear, I love for nothing more than to care for you right now. You can trust me on that, yes?"

"I can."

"Then you can also trust me when I say that I wish I'd moved on a long time ago. I wish I'd seen the signs and not held on as desperately as I had. All this time... all the waiting..." She shrugged, "When you're through with me, who else will come? Hm?"

I had no answer.

"Exactly. If I could do it all over, I'd have left the church when I had a chance. I would have traveled the world." She bit her lower lip. "Maybe I will do that once we're done with each other. Ah, but I'm sorry, Vulp. I'm sure you didn't wake up today looking to listen to the ramblings of an old-"

"You're not old, Ada," I cut in quick, watching as her face lit up at my words, "and you certainly aren't annoying me with your 'ramblings', as you put it." Squeezed down on her hand once more -- further reinforced the truth of what I was telling her. I needed Ada to believe me. "Seems to me that you've been holding on to this for a while."

She didn't say anything, not at first. Just bit down on her bottom lip, thinking, watching, leaving me with an opening to see if I'd say anything else. But she got nothing from me -- nothing but a smile and a small dip of my thin snout in her direction. If she wanted to say anything, now was the time. If she didn't? Well, that worked for me too.

"I have, actually, for a very long time. And you're right, I did need to say these things." She left me with one last gentle squeeze of the hand before her fingers unwound themselves from around my own. I'd never seen her so... brilliant. I had a feeling of a weight always pressing down on her shoulders, though she did an apt job at hiding it away. Now? Now she breathed a little more clearly, smiled a little more brightly. "You're a true wonder, little Vulper. Did you know that?"

"I..." I laughed, "haven't done anything, Ada."

"You do more than you think." She reached across the table and rubbed her thumb across my cheek. I didn't even flinch -- too warm from those kind words she'd so suddenly thrown my way. "Tonight, Vulp. You'll meet with me again, right?"

I nodded, leaning into her touch, taking in her smoky scent, while speaking in a soft and lazy voice, "We already agreed?"

"I'm just making sure," her finger trailed across the curve of my jaw, then slipped down and ran along the length of my neck, digging into the plush fur that was there, "because I swear to you, Vulp, that tonight we're going to get to the bottom of it all."

"Ada?"

"The truth, Vulper," She pulled her hand back, still smiling, and now clutching that basket of goods in her hand, "on what really happened, and how you truly feel."

On what really happened? Did she not...

"Is that..." I almost sighed, but the dejected look in my eyes could hardly be ignored. Without thinking I turned them away to anywhere but her -- I looked to my half-empty glass of whiskey instead; "something that you really want to know, Ada? I don't think you'll like-"

"Whatever the answer is," she said, "will not change my opinion of you, Vulp. I think you're a kind and wonderful individual -- one of a kind, especially here on the Isles. Whether you did the things you say you did," she was careful about her phrasing; someone was always listening, "or... whatever the outcome is, really, I know I'll not think differently of you."

"Do you..." I had to ask. So many questions; "believe me, Ada? On what I told you, a couple of nights ago."

"Hmm..." She paused. Hesitant. Unsure? Another glance around the bar. Others were listening. Some eyes on us. Others completely disinterested. What did it matter, I thought to myself once more. I didn't care for their opinions; not anymore. Just needed to know what she thought. "Is that something that you want to get into here, or..."

"Here works, Ada," I replied quickly, with a shaky certainty to my voice. I couldn't help myself; it was hard enough trying to act calm and collected whenever I was around her, not with the thoughts that often intruded on my mind. But now... with this topic being broached once more? I could feel my hands trembling. I clenched tight fists and brought them closer to me, so that she wouldn't see; "if... if this is alright with you. I... you don't have to answer."

"I don't, yes, but I will." She took a deep and steadying breath. I couldn't ignore the swell of her chest as Ada filled her lungs with Old Port's humid air. "The truth?"

"The truth."

"I did, at first, believe that you did those things. You were so... so genuine. Does that make sense?"

"Mhm."

"The emotion with which you spoke. That feeling of wanting to get things off your chest. The genuine pain of it all -- to say that it wasn't there would be an absolute lie and a complete disservice and insult to how you felt."

"But...?"

"But then I thought about you some more. And I spoke with you. I saw the way you acted, and how you held yourself, and I looked deeper into you. I... reflected. It's part of my duties, hm? I had to really think things through. Try to look at the bigger picture, and not just what you presented to me."

She paused, waiting for me to say something, but I gave her nothing.

"I think," she began again, "that there's more to this. A lot more. I think... well, Vulp, I don't know if you want to hear these words out of me."

"Say it, Ada." I swallowed. Could feel my small claws trying to dig into the palms of my hands. "It's okay. Just... say it."

Her eyes shifted left and right, flitting about, as she looked for the right words to say to me. That's what it had to be, else why did she pause for so long? She finally straightened herself out and said, rather simply, but with a force that left me winded and nearly gasping for a breath I didn't know I'd been keeping from myself; "You don't look like a killer to me."

I nodded -- not confirmation of what she suspected, but merely an acknowledgement of her words.

"Something else happened aboard that ship, didn't it?"

I couldn't say much. I...

"That is what I believe, at the very least. But... we'll see, won't we? By the end of today, we'll know." Her hand brought my gaze back to that wicker basket. "These will help, hm? And, I'll be there as well, every step of the way."

"You'll be there," I echoed, "for sure?"

"Wouldn't be right to leave you alone, would it?" Her smile broadened. "It isn't right to abandon someone when they need you the most."

It was her religion talking... or, her as well. Both sides of Ada. She firmly believed in what she said. She didn't think that I... but I had...

"You'll have to forgive me, Vulp, if it seems like I'm running out a little earlier than I'd like." She was taking a couple of steps away from the table now. She didn't do so without gently holding on to my hand, though. So soft and warm and caring. I could lean into that touch for the rest of the day and never grow bored of it. "There are still a few things that I need to prepare for tonight. This little diversion was fun, but --" her voice trailed for a moment, "It was good to see you outside the church. A little more... hm, unofficially, yes?"

"It was... yes." I smiled at her, lifting my head, pulling myself out of those thoughts. "It was good talking to you too."

"We should do this more often. I think we could enjoy each other's company sometime, when we're not trying to help one another out."

"That would be nice, Ada." I took another sniff of her scent -- so comforting and strange. "Do you, ah... need any help getting back, or...?"

"You just sit tight, Vulp. Relax. I remember the way back." She pointed at her head with an almost childish smile, "good memory! Always had it, and always will."

"Of that," I hummed, smiling just like her, "I have little doubt, Ada."

She was out the door just a moment later -- one last flick of her tail to say goodbye as it slid across the wall and the door's frame. Then it was just me, and the other patrons that oddly looked to me, and my thoughts.

Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. What did my captain like to say? Always thinking. Too much thinking. Maybe she had a point. I'd been doing a lot of thinking these last few days, and-

Wouldn't be right to leave me alone. Not right to abandon someone who needed her the most.

I needed her?

I needed her.

And my captain -- Captain Alva, she...

Thoughtlessly I reached for my whiskey, put it to my lips, and found it to be empty. Drank down to the last drop. Not a single hint of it on my tongue. She drank it all without me realizing it. Not that I wanted to drink any more by the end of that conversation -- somehow found myself less parched than I'd been when I first came in.

I'd been staring at that empty glass for... I didn't know how long. A few minutes, maybe, or it could have been mere seconds. Just long enough to acknowledge that twisted feeling I felt in my gut. Long enough to not take notice of the commotion that'd formed outside the bar until after I heard the doors swing wide to announce the arrival of a new set of customers.

I lazily drifted my gaze over them. Two Sommerians clad in black leather -- it looked like a uniform, but sturdy. Obviously meant to protect them from something sharp, which... On their hips they carried short straight swords no longer than each of their arms, well used it looked. So immaculate, from what they wore to how they groomed themselves. The one on the left was --

They looked at me. First one -- he tapped the shoulder of the other and whispered something into his ear, words I wished I'd heard but was thankful for not having caught. The other's ears twitched, his eyes narrowed, and then he whispered to his companion something else while a hand gestured at his own neck. Out of instinct I reached for my neck and felt the collar that still hung around it.

I couldn't move. Maybe I should have but... Shit, I couldn't move. Others were looking at me now, not like they had before. Earlier, they just looked at me because I was a Vulper. Of course Vulpers always gained looks. But now? Now they looked at me like... like I'd done something wrong.

One of them bolted out the door, nearly knocking over a table in the process. The other just remained in place, a hand on the hilt of his weapon, staring me down as if I'd wronged him and the entire lineage of his family. Squinty-eyed. Tight-lipped. Ready to strike, I felt. Again I reached for my throat, trying to find some comfort, as the bar fell to a sudden and still silence.

All eyes on me. Why couldn't they look in the other direction? Curious eyes. Wondering what the commotion was. Trying to figure out who I was and why I'd drawn the attention of...

Little patch on his sleeve. I almost didn't catch it. Just had enough time to look now that it was just the two of us staring each other down from a distance.

A Welk's skull. Forward-facing, maw wide open to reveal four sets of large fangs that I'd become so familiar with. Hollow, blank holes where eyes should be. Perhaps, on closer inspection, I'd have made out some of the finer details. Just below it was a military-style insignia -- I wasn't familiar with it, but it looked to be of some importance. A rank?

It could only be them, I realized, far too slowly for my own liking. As the thought settled on my mind I felt my throat close in against itself. Breathing was hard. I couldn't keep my foot from tapping nervously against the ground. Even my tail; the thing just kept twitching in the most annoying manner.

They had the wrong Vulper. Wanted to say that to him, but who was I kidding? How many Vulpers were there in Port Ronald? How many Vulpers walked around with a collar around their neck? On that note, how did they know to look for one? I hadn't... I hadn't told anyone about it other than him.

Him.

I smelled him long before we met eyes. How couldn't I have? He still smelled like me.

Natél was dressed exactly like them. Tight and sturdy black leather uniform. Sword on his hip. Patch on his sleeve. His presence in the bar couldn't be ignored -- overpowering and all-encompassing, even among the other Welks who would reluctantly look to him out of the corner of their eyes. It seemed to me that none dared look in his direction; none except for me, of course. I couldn't keep my eyes off the Welk. He, in turn, looked to none other than myself.

If the Sommerian had been staring daggers at me, then Natél was desperately trying to shove a sword through my gut with nothing but his gaze.

"Clear out!" yelled one of the two Sommerians. Such a loud bark -- none protested, but none moved either. I almost jumped out of my skin. Afraid? I could taste the fear in the air now. The other Sommerian spoke other languages -- Perenisian and Welkish as well -- nearly perfectly. Translating for those who might not understand. He spoke just seconds after the other. "This establishment is now under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Service until further notice! Failure to vacate the premises will be considered trespassing!" His hand fell on that sword. "Trespassers will be dealt with according to the laws that govern the Imperial provinces and all of Her territories! You!" The Sommerian pointed at me. I was already firmly rooted where I stood. "You stay."

The other had been translating in all other languages. He didn't miss a beat. I saw him hesitate when he turned to me, uncertainty flashing before his eyes. Didn't know how to speak what he assumed to be my native tongue, I imagined. All I could do to distract myself from Natél's terrible stare was to give him a slight shake of my head -- it was alright; I didn't speak it either.

In short order, the bar had been cleared out. The Welks made sure to give Natél a wide berth as they squeezed through the small doorway. It left only us four: the two Sommerians who now stood guard at the entry, backs straight, feet planted firmly and together, not so much as a twitch out of them; Natél, who'd began a slow and tedious pace back and forth across the bar with a dour look about his face; and myself, offering up nothing but my undivided attention as I desperately worked at keeping my heart from popping in my chest.

"May I..." I began, caught myself with an itch in my throat, and dry-coughed once onto my hand. It caught Natél's attention -- the Welk stopped pacing long enough to give me a long and dubious look; "get another drink?"

The Welk seemed to contemplate it as he licked his lips, turned his back to me, breathed, then looked to me again. "Certainly."

"T-Thank you." I slipped around to the other end of the bar -- had to squeeze by Natél, brush against him, feel that cold reception I wasn't quite used to, before I carefully poured out yet another glass of whiskey. Proper one, this time. And even if the selection wasn't quite... well, it could have been better, but I would make it work. I could-

"I am annoyed, Vulp."

I nodded. I could tell. It was obvious from the moment he'd set foot inside. Imperial Service? He'd been with them from the start. He-

"I gave you the chance to come to me on your own terms. You should have taken it."

"I... I didn't know."

"Speak up."

"I didn't know!" I said. Almost yelled it. Corrected myself quickly. I didn't have to yell -- Welks, they had such good hearing. They always... no, he didn't want me to speak up for him, but for the other two. The Sommerians. A record. It's how the Empire always operated. Witnesses to whatever happened, so nobody could deny the events that might have transpired. "I didn't know you were... I didn't know you were with..."

"Yes, well, I had planned to ease you into it." Natél gave me a long and slow shake of his head. "But since you decided not to show, I --" his eyes fell somewhere else on my body. It gave him pause. I could see him sniffing at the air again, then he blinked and shook his head, brows furrowed, worry in his eyes that had not been there before. I busied myself with a long sip of whiskey, letting it settle on the floor of my maw, flooding my tongue, before I swallowed it all down in one hard gulp. "Your arm."

He pointed at the bandages I'd wrapped around them. I said, after a second long sip that began to ease some of my nerves, "What do you care?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing important."

"It was her, wasn't it?"

"Stop asking, Natél."

He puffed his chest out a little and turned his head down at me. "That's no way to speak to a captain of the Imperial Service."

"Y-You knew already," I whispered as the Welk came up to the other side of the counter. He set down those large hands that had so tenderly touched me all over my body and I... I couldn't help but shiver. My skin crawled. I wanted to back away but those eyes held me in place. At least, thankfully, he didn't try to reach for me; "from the very beginning, you always knew. You..."

"I knew," he said flatly, like he usually did.

"... used me."

"I did," he continued.

"You never cared." My voice cracked.

"Not at first, no." Natél's eyes shifted to the two Sommerians. His subordinates, then, if he truly was their captain.

"Hah!" The laugh left me before I could stop it. I gripped my glass of whiskey a little more tightly, digging claws against the crystal.

"Afterward? Yes. I did care. I do care."

"Of-fucking-course you do."

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't." In a low and dark voice he said, "I'd have you and your captain in clasps, halfway to the mainland by now." I tensed as he reached for me -- he didn't touch me, just my collar. "Captain Alva, huh? Property, are you?"

"I-I'm not..."

"Sure you aren't, Vulp." He sighed and let go of my collar. "Sure you aren't..." He shook his head as I started to pour myself out a second glass. "We both know your tolerance, Vulp. I need you sober."

"I-I'll be sober," I whispered, "just let me have this."

"No."

"Please."

He grabbed it out of my hands, the bottle too, and set it far away from my hands to somewhere I couldn't reach it. "Focus."

"What the hell do you want from me."

"I need you to cooperate." He swallowed hard. I couldn't tell if he was being honest with me or if this was just... practiced. How much of all this had been his honesty? Not just today, but the last few days that I'd spent with him. He knew from the start. He knew who I was. Him coming to me had never even been a coincidence. It was all - "Those two bodies-"

"I did it," I stammered with a tremble to my voice.

"Don't start with the lies, Vulp," he said, so clearly and already exasperated that it almost hurt me. Almost. I almost wished I hadn't cared; "when you and I both know that I already know so much."

"You don't know who did it," I whispered, tense, wide-eyed. I must have looked mad to him. Mad, or afraid. Or maybe a little of both -- I was glad for the lack of mirrors in this bar; the last thing I needed was to unnerve myself further with the hopeless look of a hopeless Vulper; "so I'm telling you right now; I did it."

"This is not a game, Vulp."

"I'm not playing any-"

"Yes you are!" he yelled as a fist came down on the counter. With a startled jump I pressed back against the wall directly behind me. The other two Sommerians did not so much as flinch at Natél's sudden outburst. He breathed in deep and, quickly enough, recomposed himself. Back to that smooth and cold voice I'd grown so used to, and which now felt so distant to me. "You did not kill them."

"You don't know that for a fact," I said after a moment's hesitation.

"And you aren't listening." Another sharp breath. More of that exasperation. "I'm trying to help you, Vulper."

"Why?"

"Because you don't deserve what's coming."

"Just leave us alone, then."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"They want heads, Vulp. And my job is to deliver them." He pointed with a dull claw and long finger. "It doesn't have to be your head. All you have to do is-"

"Out my Captain?"

"Sign some papers, Vulp. You don't need to say anything." With a slight gesture of his hand and a shake of his head, one of the Sommerians, the one who'd initially yelled at me, came forward with a set of documents. So neat and tidy, folded over once onto itself. The Welk took the documents and then set them on the counter, facing me. I didn't even bother reading through them.

"And this?"

"It'll clear your name," he said to me.

"What does it say?"

"Read it."

"No," I hissed while holding on to myself; it's the only comfort I had. "What does it say, Natél?"

"Read it, if you're so curious. Or maybe take a guess." He narrowed his eyes. "Go on, Vulper. Use that little brain of yours. Think for yourself, for once."

"You're an asshole, Natél." If I hadn't known any better, then I swear I would have seen hurt in his eyes. But I knew better. This was all fake. Pretense. Lies. Another act to get me to play along. I... "So, what? I sign the papers and I'm off the hook?"

"Your captain, Ferrelis Alva, is already going to be arrested. You don't have to go down with her."

"A murder she did not commit," I cut in, earning another of his sighs and an obvious roll of his eyes.

"Stop it."

"She didn't do it."

Another hit of his fist against the table, but softer now. I didn't quite jump as much as I flinched at his reaction. "Vulper, you are physically incapable of tearing out the throat of a Sommerian, nor are you able to use those pathetic things you call claws to rip open a Perenisian's chest. Yes, I saw the bodies. Yes, I know what it takes to do that kind of thing." He didn't give me the chance to talk. "The Winding Gale's crew consists of two individuals: a Vulper, and a Welk."

"She didn't-"

"Had the wounds been inflicted by a weapon then, yes, maybe I would believe you'd done it. But that is not the case."

"I just..."

"The Empire doesn't care about that, though. They want their heads, two if it comes to it. But I care. I want the person who did this to face justice, and the one who didn't to get on with his life."

"Please, just-"

"They will execute you, Vulp. Do you know what that means? That means torture. That means needless interrogations. That means no hope at surviving the next few months. Is that what you want?"

No.

"Do you want to die for her?"

Would she die for me?

"Vulp!"

"S-Shut up! Just shut up!" I'd been holding in my breath. With a loud gasp I let it out, then sucked in another lungful of air to relieve my aching chest. "J-Just let me -- just let me thi-think. Just let me think, please. Just... Please."

"There's nothing to think about," he told me coldly, with the calculated precision of someone from his position. This was just a job to him. Nothing else. Just a job; "since all you have to do is sign these papers, and you'll be telling the Empire that you had nothing to do with this, and will confirm our suspicions that Ferrelis Alva was the one that killed them. We can move in on her tonight and will be out of here by the morning."

"And if..." Swallowed a lump in my throat. It hurt to swallow; "... what if I don't sign?"

He just pushed off the counter and shrugged, eyes falling away from mine for what felt like the first time. Then he... why did he look sad? "Not much I can do for you then."

"You're saying-"

"I'm telling you that this is the best I can do, Vulper, and that you should do exactly as I say. I won't save you otherwise."

"I don't need saving."

"Yes you do." He pointed at me, at my arm, at the collar around my neck, and then right at my head. "You desperately need saving."

"You're..." I looked at the papers again. All I had to do was sign? But then my captain -- what would she do here? She wouldn't sign, would she? She'd... she wouldn't leave me to them. "This is a trick."

"Vulp."

"Just leave me alone, Natél."

"Haaah... Fine. That's how you want to play this?" He turned to the other two -- as soon as his gaze fell on them, they corrected their posture. Right and proper soldiers. "Leave us."

And without question, they turned their tails and went out the door. Not a doubtful look. Not even so much as a peep out of them. Natél's word was law. Not unlike the relationship I had with my captain.

"You don't want to trust me? Fine, I get it. If I was you, I wouldn't trust myself either."

"What are you -- don't get closer." He blocked my only exit now. Trapped behind the bar's counter, with nowhere to go but past him. Back to a wall. I held my hand out when he took another step to me. "W-What are you going to do?"

"This hurts me, Vulp," he said blankly as he reached for me with a long arm.

"Don't you fucking -- you've no right to be saying that."

"Sure I do." I flinched as I felt his finger run across my cheek. I wanted to hate it-I... I wanted to be disgusted by his touch, but that was simply not the case. Even as I tried to pull my head away, I felt myself drawn to him. That warmth from his body. He knew this. He knew what he was doing; what he did to me. "It hurts."

"You don't look like you're hurting," I whispered while pulling my head back further. Natél was persistent. If anything, this just made him want to get closer to me. I had nowhere else to go, after all. Nowhere else but him; "so stop lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I don't trust you."

"You've no reason to trust me, Vulper."

"So why are you doing this?" I asked while finally taking a hold of him. No chance of ever wrapping my fingers around his forearm. As hard as I tried, I couldn't push his hand away. He just tensed up, flexing those tough muscles underneath my fingertips.

"Because even if you don't trust me, I still want what's best for you." His hand slipped from my cheek to my bandaged arm. "What happened to you?"

"Don't ask," I said bitterly while trying to draw my arm away. He was careful with his hold, gentle and firm. "Just drop it, Natél."

"Why'd she do this to you?"

"Because I... We had an altercation."

"Altercation."

"Misunderstanding. Just... just a miscommunication."

"And she did this to you," he turned his eyes down. It was hard to justify, yes, with how soaked in blood the bandages were; "because of a miscommunication?"

"... Yes."

He held my hand on his. We were practically squeezed against one another now. I just... I couldn't ignore the fact that I liked having him near me. Even after all he'd said to me... the things he wanted me to do to my captain... I hated him and I loved him.

"She's going down regardless of how cooperative you are. Do you realize this?"

"You can't do this," I said, nearly pleaded with the Welk.

"It's happening, Vulp. It's been decided. What I'm trying to get you to understand is that you do not have to go down with her." Now he pressed my hand to his chest. I could feel his heart beating so hard -- I wanted to press my ear to it so that I could listen to its rhythmic pulse. "She doesn't care about you, Vulper. You're just property to her. You're nothing." Nothing, he said. He sounded just like her, down to the odd inflection in his voice. "Just sign the papers and save your life."

"You want me to abandon my captain."

"If you want to be so blunt about it?" He nodded. "Yes."

"I... I can't..."

"Yes you can." Pressed even tighter still. If we weren't wearing any clothes -- I closed my eyes and took in his scent. I could smell myself better on him now. It was good. I liked it. Why'd he have to be so much bigger than me? Why'd he have to be so gentle with me. I could almost believe it; I almost believed that he really did care. "What's stopping you?"

"She would do the same for me, Natél." Or so I wanted to believe. So desperately did I want to believe this. "She wouldn't abandon me. Right?"

"I don't know the answer to that."

"Of course you don't."

"But I know I wouldn't." His other hand slipped to my waist. Such a strong grip. Fingers closing in around my backside. I could taste his sweet breath now. "I'm trying my best not to abandon you but you're not making this any easier on me."

"You'd have me executed, Natél."

"If it comes to the worst of it? Yes." Why'd he have to say that when his hand fell around my tail? "It doesn't have to end like that."

"If she finds out..."

"She wouldn't know any better."

"She'd kill me."

He stopped his idle exploration of my body. The one that held to my hand squeezed down on it. I raised my leg a little as he pressed me back against the wall, allowing my thigh to graze his own. Gods, I felt so terribly small in his hands.

"I wouldn't let that happen."

"This isn't fair to her," I tried to argue, but the Welk was quick to shut me down.

"What she's doing isn't fair to you." He looked down at me with so much love -- it had to be love, or something as close to that as it could get. I just wanted to... it took everything in me to stop myself from pressing a kiss to his neck. "Answer me this, and be honest with me: would she take the fall for you, much like you tried to do for her?"

"She..." I had to think. I needed a moment to think. I needed to -- everything I'd done had been for her. I jumped at the chance of helping her.

"Tell me the truth."

"... No."

"So why do it for her?"

"Because she's done so much for me."

"And is that worth death?"

"I don't... I don't know."

I felt his growl on my chest. Without thinking I let off a whimper and a moan, then rubbed my leg against his own. He grabbed me tight by the base of my tail again.

"You frustrate me, Vulper."

Not as rough as I thought he was going to be. Natél could have pressed me against a wall, bent me over, and had his way with me. Having him so close just did it for me like nothing ever had before. It made me feel...

Well... I felt whole. Like when I wore my collar. Like when Captain Alva praised me for my good work. Only this sensation wasn't fleeting or hollow. It lasted. It was warm. It was comforting. It was...

"I just wanted to be of use," I whispered to him so slowly and low... how he heard me was anyone's guess. Bless his keen senses. The hand on my tail fell out and went up to my cheek. He looked down at me with compassion; "I wanted nothing bad to happen to her. The best I could do was... the best I could do..."

"You took the fall for something you didn't do, right?" He'd already known the answer. I... I knew the answer too. I'd always known. From the moment I came aboard the Gale and saw those bodies laying out across the deck. The moment I saw my captain panting, wild-eyed, coated in blood that wasn't hers. I knew from that moment that things wouldn't go well for us, but I could finally do something worthwhile for her.

"I believed it," I said, "and I thought she'd protect me."

"Did she?"

"N-No." Again that burn at the back of my eyes. "F-Fucking... gods be damned."

"It's alright, Vulp."

"N-No. No, it isn't."

"Yes it is." He sighed and hummed something under his breath, as if trying to find words that weren't there. The right words. "You have... admirable loyalty, but it is entirely misplaced."

"What else can I give her?"

"You already gave her too much," he added as his hand fell to my head. He touched the snub where my ear once was and I... My stomach twisted itself into a sickening knot. "Sign the papers. Save yourself."

"Captain Alva..."

"Ferrelis Alva doesn't care, Vulp." I turned my head away when his thumb fell to my lips. Natél lingered there for a moment, then seemed to finally catch on to how uncomfortable I felt. He, thankfully, gave me the space I needed. "Just do this for me, Vulp. I... I can't just turn a blind eye." He shrugged. "My hands are tied."

His hands were tied, and so were mine, it seemed. Was Natél going to let me go without signing these papers? Maybe. I had no doubt that he would at least allow me the chance to walk away. But I wouldn't be alone. Someone would be following -- one of those Sommerians, perhaps -- to know where I was at all times. And when the time came, and the time was coming soon, I'd end up right in the same place where Captain Alva would be. Irons around our wrists, in the brig of a ship heading to the mainland.

I had asked my captain if she would keep me safe, and all she'd done was shoot down my questions or hurt me. I wanted to believe that she wouldn't abandon me to them like Natél was asking me to do to her, but I also knew that Captain Alva valued her freedom and autonomy. She... what was I to her? I was her crewmate. Her Vulper.

She meant everything to me.

I was just expendable.

Did he see it in my eyes first, or was it the way I couldn't quite get my voice up? His eyes lit up for a moment when they met mine, and he dipped his head a little lower so it was closer to my own. I felt drawn to his lips, but I was also pushed away by the mere fact that he... he wasn't who I thought he was. Just doing his job, yes, and maybe he did grow attached to me, but it didn't change the fact that I was still...

"You hurt me, Natél." He reluctantly let me go as I pulled out of his grasp. My mind was made up. There was nothing else to do. I wasn't ready to die. I didn't want to die. Captain Alva would have dragged me down with her if she had the chance. And I'd been so ready to do so as well.

This was no longer my fight, then.

I continued before he could say a word, "I need you to know that, because I don't think we're going to be seeing each other again, are we?"

"Unless..." his voice trailed off. A hand fell to my hip. Gods... it took everything in me to keep myself from melting into his touch. My insides were all fighting for control of me -- to squirm away in repulsion or fall into him like a needy kit; "... you would like to come with me, and -- I'll do for you what she couldn't do."

I even seriously contemplated his offer. To go with him? With her on the same ship? "I can't do that."

"Then I'll send for a ship to come collect you. Just stay here in Port Ronald. I'll arrange for you to have a room at the Trident, and-"

"I can't, Natél." His hand fell away from me. He... he looked small now. So small and vulnerable and at a loss of words. Not your typical Welk.

He swallowed hard. That long tongue that I craved to taste slipped from his maw and licked at his chin. He cleared his throat and said a little awkwardly, "I'll come for you personally, then. How does... how does that sound? Just me. Nobody else. I'll take you back with me, to the Empire. You can live there with me. Or... or you could work with me whenever I have to travel. Good pay. Loyal crew. We take care of each other when we're out. They'll love to meet you, Vulp. They-"

But I shushed him by placing my small hand on his chest. Felt his heart again -- it beat so fast I felt scared for him. I felt terrified for what he was feeling. He... he was hurting. He had to be. But he understood, or else he needed to understand, that I just couldn't... "I can't do this."

"I care about you," he said.

"Stop."

"I love you."

"I said..." and I pushed him -- I tried to push him, but the Welk didn't budge. Instead I pushed myself away, stumbled back against the wall that'd previously supported my back, and finished off with a strong, "stop."

The silence that fell over the bar could have been cut with a knife. He slumped a little, hunched over. His bottom lip trembled but, besides that, he didn't show much more emotion. I, on the other hand, could barely keep myself together. So I crossed my wounded arm across my chest and held to the wrist with my other hand, while I frantically tried to find words that would comfort him. I did want to comfort him, in the end. I did care for him. But I just... I couldn't do this.

I couldn't bring myself to forgive him.

"Just... just give me those papers. I'll sign them, and..." I trailed off as he gave me the space that I needed. I took a pen and dipped it in an unopened bottle of ink that Natél had fished from one of his pockets. I didn't even bother trying to read what it said -- I wanted to get this done with as quickly as possible

Something in me must have died when I signed my name upon the first of many lines. I could feel it -- like a part of my soul had chipped off from the whole. That's something Sister Ada might have said, and I felt inclined to believe it. Then came the second signature -- this one did not hurt as much as the first, but it left me feeling hollow on the inside. My hand ached by the time I got to the fifth; by that point I felt nothing anymore. The sadness was gone, and so was the anger I still felt for the Welk. I did my best to purge all thoughts of Captain Alva from my mind, because I knew now that I'd signed over her fate to someone else's hands.

"... and that is that," I finished off with a final stroke of my hand to draw out that last dying mark of my signature.

Relief? I felt none of it. Is this what freedom was like? I thought I'd been free this entire time. I... I still felt like I'd been free, but everyone else just -- we should never have come to Port Ronald.

"We don't have to end things between us," said the Welk, but I stopped him short of speaking another word. Again I pressed my hand to his chest, and this time it was I who leaned up to him. I'd wanted to go in for a kiss, or to feel his fur against my cheeks, or... anything, really. But all I did was linger inches from him, taking in his scent, knowing that I'd never smell myself on him again.

It was for the best.

"I'm out of yourfur now. You do your thing, and I'll do mine." He allowed himself to be pushed back. "Please don't -- don't try to find me. I want to forget this. I want to forget all of this. Although... one last favour, Natél?"

"Anything," he said with an assurance to his trembling voice that said I could trust him on this one simple matter.

"Let me say goodbye."

He visibly clenched up. Natél didn't like this idea at all. But... well, he knew he had no say in this matter. Or so I hoped.

"If you truly care about me," just had to twist his arm a little more, "then let me say goodbye."

"Fine," he finally acquiesced. "You have until tonight."

"Thank you." I drew in one last breath of air, threaded my fingers through his fur, felt at that tight muscle of his, and... that was it. No more, I knew, or else I'd fall for the trap again. I spoke my farewell in his mother tongue, "Ader'nas," and then, for good measure, "Goodbye."

I left him without another word. Not looking back was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. Even harder than abandoning my captain.