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I dreamed.

I saw Nola again, older, scarred, but beautiful, hard face set in a fury like a thousand storms, one of which raged overhead as she steered her ship through massive, torrential waves of darkness toward an unknown destination. I heard her say _"My babies!"_before a wave crashed over my vision and she and her ship vanished from sight.

I saw Rika. She looked up at me and gave me that hungry, predatory smile she gave me when she wanted me inside her. "Look what your fruit has wrought," she whispered. "They are beautiful." And I looked at her breast, and I saw two children, two beautiful little girls, with a strange mix of fox and rabbit features, their Vulpin muzzles latched to her nipples as they fed, eyes closed in contentment and safety, tall, perky Lepid ears flicking back and forth as they half-slept, half-ate. My heart swelled in my chest and by the gods, I never thought I could love two creatures as much as this.

From behind me, a familiar voice said, "Look, brother. Look what your fruit has wrought."

I turned, and there was Nola. Not older and hardened as before, but as she was now, young and awkward and fiercely beautiful. Her hips and breasts had filled out slightly, and she too had two children feeding at her breast. This boy and girl were unmistakably our children; they were like carbon copies of us. My breath hitched at the sight of them. I loved them, too, but there was something else twisting and writhing beneath the surface of that love: fear. I was afraid. Afraid for them. Afraid of them.

The boy, barely a newborn, stopped suckling to turn and face me. His eyes were not electric blue like his parents. They were terrible, inky black voids into some horrid abyss. Into the Maw. Into its depths. Toxic smoke began to roil out of the baby's eyes, and he opened his milk-stained mouth. Without his lips moving, a voice like an avalanche rumbled from him:

"Where are they? Where are my babies?"

I screamed, and they all vanished, leaving me in a claustrophobic darkness with nothing but my own shrieking voice for company. There was no echo to my cry; it was weirdly muffled, as if I'd screamed into a bank of fog. Somewhere nearby a voice called my name, but it was distorted by the shadows and I couldn't find it.

I knew, though. I knew it was Nola. She searched for me. Oh, Nollie, I'm so sorry. I was supposed to save you. I failed. I died. I told the darkness this secret, and I heard Nollie reply. It was warbled and faint, but I heard it.

"You're not dead, stupid. Wake up."

* * *

I opened my eyes and stared around me. I knew the second I woke up something was different. Something was wrong. The first thing I noticed was the pain. It was absolutely everywhere; a dull, itching ache. Every slight movement made my own fur feel like a million tiny needles poking my skin. My right shoulder burned with dull aches and pains beyond what was afflicting the rest of me. I guess that made sense, since a really big rock had stabbed me right around there.

The next thing I noticed was the room. I was in... a place. Not the Den, but an enclosed room of some kind. That alone was disorienting--I'd never been in an enclosed space other than the Den in my almost fourteen years of existence. The walls were metal, and torches hung from the walls that somehow emitted a steady glow instead of flickering. They were encased in something transparent.

I glanced down and realized I was on straw, but not the floor. The straw was covered in some thick, rough material so it wouldn't poke me. It was a strange feeling, being elevated from the ground while lying down. Something was covering my body too, some square of heavy material that felt comforting and warm. And on the edge of this straw square, sitting over me licking my ears and face, was my twin sister. She smiled when she saw me staring at her. Something in her face was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. "N... Nola...?"

"Hey, bro. Miss me?"

My breath shuddered and I almost started sobbing. How was I not dead? Where was I? What was wrong? So many questions.

Nola seemed to recognize them, but she just kept licking my face until I'd calmed down a little. "You were hurt, Leon. Really badly hurt. You've been asleep for... a while now. Mender Agnes had to do a real number to save you. But you're alive. You're going to be okay, I promise."

She smiled, then, and I wanted to hold her. Kiss her. But not the way we kissed before; I wanted to kiss her the way I'd kissed Rika and Art. She was so damn beautiful right then, glowing with a soft orange tinge from the strange torches, the kindness in her eyes, the feel of her tongue on my fur. I wanted to show her she was beautiful and admit I wanted her. I didn't care anymore what Van would say. Van was dead. Mom was dead. Rika and Art were gone. But I still had Nola. We always had each other. But I wanted to have her in a way I wasn't supposed to. She had to know it. The way she'd acted, the way she'd licked my belly that day, the way she'd pushed herself against my erection on so many nights... didn't she? Oh, gods. What the fuck was wrong with me? Here she was, trying to console me, and all I could think about was dragging her down to this mat and pushing myself inside her.

I think something showed on my face, because her ears started switching rapidly. She didn't look away though. And she didn't stop smiling. It got a little shyer, maybe, but her smile didn't go away.

But something still gnawed at the back of my mind. There had been something in Nola's voice, a desperation that made panic flow into my chest. The tingling in my shoulder intensified, and the inescapable horror of realization hit me.

Oh, shit. My arm.

"How bad is it?" I whispered hoarsely. My throat felt like a desert. "My arm."

Her smile faltered, and her lip trembled. "Look, the important thing is you're alive. Okay? That's... that's the important thing... okay...?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could do this. "Show me."

She did. Old blood stained a tight wrapping of bandages around the stump at my shoulder. I felt pain shoot up and down my right arm--an arm that wasn't there. As it turned out, I couldn't do this. My brave face lasted all of two seconds before I broke down completely. Nola gathered up her broken, disfigured brother, and I sobbed uncontrollably into her fur.

It was gone. My arm was gone.