{"sf1_id":1662174,"sf2_id":"5nzyY5Vm","title":"Soothe and Nail","author":"Alfa_Barf","words":29686,"posted_at":"2020-12-18T05:41:54.000Z","tags":["Greentext","Human","Medieval","Second Person","Violence","Wolfess"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1662174-soothe-and-nail","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/5nzyY5Vm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/05/6d/056d7eb2-4d02-40de-8e44-5b5ddaf11791","description":"[Greentext] Anon the sellsword is reduced to a lowly groomer when detained by the town guard. His recipient is a wolfess who is also the town's prisoner, though for much more violent reasons. As Anon cleans the wolfess up, he begins to notice the subtle effect she has on him.","content":"**[[CHAPTER 1: Anon]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eLiving the life of a sellsword isn't easy  \n\\\u003eEspecially an independent one  \n\\\u003eThe organized guilds either look down on you for refusing their membership, or they take all the good work before you  \n\\\u003eLaw enforcement flat out hates you  \n\\\u003eThis is doubly so now that the war has ended  \n\\\u003eWhich war? All of them  \n\\\u003eBattles of every size have always dappled the region, but the stars have aligned in such a way that everyone is at (relative) peace  \n\\\u003eWhich means no army will give you the time of day  \n\\\u003eEven the occasional “adventuring party\" has been all but snuffed out, as ruins and abandoned fortresses have since been reclaimed  \n\\\u003eYou're left to offer your services, whatever they may be, to any town that will pay you  \n\\\u003eJust you, your sword, your crossbow, and a few other provisions  \n\\\u003eYou don't exactly carry yourself as a menacing fighter or crafty assassin, but just possessing weapons is enough for the constabulary to harass you when you arrive at a modest little town  \n\\\u003eMercenaries are now seen as instigators and even traitors, so your belongings are confiscated and you're taken to the captain of the local militia  \n\\\u003e\"You're no threat to us,\" Captain Brackard says as if giving you some kind of personal revelation  \n\\\u003eHe's one of countless “grizzled veteran\" types you've seen over the years  \n\\\u003eThese guys must grow from the same ugly, tainted crops  \n\\\u003e\"If I had my way you'd be in the stocks right now, but Father Frond has more clout than I do, so you're getting off easy.\"  \n\\\u003eOh what luck  \n\\\u003eYou're taken to the town's chief healer and cleric, who is much more cordial in greeting you  \n\\\u003e\"Thank you, Captain, I will take it from here.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're given a nasty look from Brackard before he leaves  \n\\\u003eThe cleric, Father Frond, hands you a basket of cloths, brushes, oils and ointments, bandages, and other medicinal tools  \n\\\u003eHe takes a similar basket and asks you to follow him to the prison  \n  \n\\\u003e\"My apologies for the cold welcome; visitors should expect better from our town. However, our lord has issued a bounty on mercenaries who enter his domain. You will have to work off a tribute of sorts before you are given your freedom here.\"  \n\\\u003eThe prison has criminals of all kinds, but you are led down into the dungeons  \n\\\u003eAnd then even further, where even candlelight can barely survive in the dampness  \n\\\u003e\"We've detained a warrior from one of our previous skirmishes…a wolf,\" Frond says. “She has proven too dangerous to release currently and Brackard is more than eager to execute her, given that her own people haven't sent anyone to negotiate for her freedom.\"  \n\\\u003eThe cleric motions to the baskets  \n\\\u003e\"But the lord has allowed me to try and 'reform' her before the Captain can get his way. She is wounded and soiled from the battle, so our first task is to make her more, ah, respectable. I'm not allowed to do this myself for safety reasons, and none of my acolytes are brave enough.\"  \n\\\u003eAt the bottom floor of the prison is a single cell, where a wolfess is sitting chained up  \n\\\u003eShe has dark, charcoal fur, matted and dirty, and is tied up in several places with stained bandages  \n\\\u003eHer fierce eyes are the color of golden flaxseed, and she has a prominent snaggletooth  \n\\\u003eShe's wearing only a loincloth and a tattered breast wrap, which does little to contain her robust chest  \n\\\u003e\"Good day, Faolre,\" Father Frond says cheerfully  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess looks from him to you with venom  \n\\\u003eYou can see her arms bulge with force, and the chains creek with tension  \n\\\u003eThe cleric sets down his basket on a crooked stool next to the cell bars  \n\\\u003e\"Faolre, can I trust you not to attack our guest?\"  \n\\\u003e\"No,\" the wolfess seethes.  \n\\\u003eHer raspy voice sends a chill down your back  \n\\\u003eThe cleric sighs and pulls a nearby lever  \n\\\u003e\"At least you're honest….\"  \n\\\u003eChains around the wolfess' wrists retract into a grate in the wall, pulling her to a squatting position  \n\\\u003eShe's too high to sit down comfortably, but the grate is too low to let her stand up to her full height  \n\\\u003e\"I will leave you to your work, my child. Unfortunately, the guards will be on the floor above preventing your escape until I come to retrieve you. Or, Light save you, your body.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're left alone with the wolfess, who stares unblinkingly at you  \n\\\u003eYou open the cell and bring the baskets to her  \n\\\u003eShe snaps her teeth when you pass too close  \n\\\u003e\"Their little plots mean nothing,\" she growls. “I will not let you touch me.\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess isn't in much of a position, literally or figuratively, to argue with you  \n\\\u003eHowever, you're both prisoners of the town to an extent, and it gives you common ground  \n\\\u003eWhen you explain this to her, you're given a sour chuckle  \n\\\u003e\"I would rather DIE than be used for your human schemes. It would be in your best interest, and the town's, to kill me now. I'm sure they'd appreciate washing their hands of my death by letting an outsider do what they won't.\"  \n\\\u003eYou try to take a more aggressive approach, but that's an even worse decision  \n\\\u003eShe still has the leg length and brawn to swipe at you, tearing your clothes with a sweeping kick  \n\\\u003eIn the basket is a small hand crossbow; not enough to stage an escape, but powerful enough to shoot a poison-tipped dart and pierce even a thick pelt of fur  \n\\\u003eYou can tell there's one vial of sedative liquid and one of poison among the supplies  \n\\\u003eNeither one puts Faolre at ease when you roll them in your palm  \n\\\u003eBut this is a test of your honesty, you think  \n\\\u003eYou return the crossbow and vials to the basket, shoving it out of reach  \n\\\u003eFaolre's snarl diminishes a bit  \n\\\u003eThe plan to show you mean no harm seems to work  \n\\\u003eYou follow the good faith up by giving up the one stool in the room  \n\\\u003eShe steadily eases herself down on the seat as you slide it under her  \n\\\u003eYou can tell she's trying to hide her appreciation, but a relieved sigh billows out from her black snout   \n\\\u003eYou dip some of the cloths in a nearby trough of water and try your hand at approaching the wolfess again  \n\\\u003eYou hear a rumble in her throat  \n\\\u003eYou resolve not to back down this time  \n\\\u003eFaolre doesn't object when you examine her bandages and begin to unravel them  \n\\\u003eThere's a fair amount of dried blood on each one, but her wounds look at though they've started to close  \n\\\u003eBurrs and mats cover her body, and a few were even wrapped over by the bandages  \n\\\u003eEither she hastily covered her own wounds, or whoever did the job likely knew the burrs would irritate the cuts  \n\\\u003eThe washing can wait; you need to take care of her fur first  \n\\\u003eYou grab a small pair of shears from the basket and cut the prickly seeds and knotted clumps of fur from her coat  \n\\\u003e\"Take off any more than you need to, and I'll take off your hands,\" she says  \n\\\u003eEven with the threat, she remains perfectly still with the sharp instrument being so close  \n\\\u003eYou snip the intrusions away, one at a time  \n\\\u003eShe's extremely hesitant to let you near her abdomen, but every burr and mat you remove seems to also remove a little more of her animosity  \n\\\u003eEventually, she allows you access to spots where she can't keep an eye on your hands, like her back  \n\\\u003eWith all the clinging debris gone, you spot one last blemish  \n\\\u003eA sliver of metal is lodged in her skin, making the wound look far worse than any of the others  \n\\\u003eJust spotting it causes Faolre to tense up  \n\\\u003eThere's a pair of tweezers in the basket, just for the occasion  \n\\\u003e\"Wait,\" Faolre breathes in a strained voice  \n\\\u003eYou pause for a moment, but she doesn't have anything to follow up her command with  \n\\\u003eThere's no way you can let that thing stay in her wound  \n\\\u003eYou get in close, aiming your tweezers carefully  \n\\\u003eAs soon as you grasp it you feel a sweat break out  \n\\\u003eDo you go slowly, or just rip it out?  \n\\\u003eYou end up doing both  \n\\\u003eIt doesn't budge when you try to ease it out, and Faolre screams in agony  \n\\\u003eYou panic and pull harder, plucking the sliver out and reopening the wound  \n\\\u003eYou fall backward as Faolre lets out a horrifying scream  \n\\\u003eHer eyes roll back and her mouth froths  \n\\\u003eWhen she goes silent you can still hear the echo of her yell bouncing back up the stairs of the prison  \n\\\u003eShe pants heavily, and you drop the sliver into a small dish  \n\\\u003eSomething about it gives you a feeling of dread…  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess takes some deep breaths, regaining her composure  \n\\\u003e\"Th…th…\" she hisses  \n\\\u003eYou're welcome, you think to her  \n\\\u003eNow is the easiest part  \n\\\u003eOr the hardest, depending on how willing she is  \n\\\u003eYou return to the soaked cloths and wring them out  \n\\\u003eThere's no safe place to start, so you pick her feet and motion your intentions  \n\\\u003eHer toes curl reflexively as you approach, and you start cleaning up her paw pads  \n\\\u003eUnder the feet, on top of the feet, between her digits…  \n\\\u003eShe willingly gives you her other foot when you finish with the first  \n\\\u003eYou grab fresh cloths and move on to her ankles, shins, and knees  \n\\\u003eFaolre's contempt is palpable at this point  \n\\\u003eHer thighs are next, and while she doesn't close them up she gives you a fair warning  \n\\\u003e\"You stray into dangerous territory. If you so much as graze a spot you cannot see right now, I will kill you.\"  \n\\\u003eYou don't need to be told a second time  \n  \n\\\u003eThere's a lot of surface to cover on her thick, powerful thighs  \n\\\u003eShe flexes her muscles as you run your cloth over them  \n\\\u003eIt's less of a sign of resistance and more about the demonstration of her might  \n\\\u003eShe could crush you with just those thighs…and the thought has a shocking allure to it  \n\\\u003eYou can technically see her rump right now, but it's an area you elect to stay away from  \n\\\u003eWhen everything below her waist is clean, sans her loincloth-covered nethers, you hear resounding steps coming closer  \n\\\u003eAn unremarkable prison guard arrives to drop off some food  \n\\\u003eQuite literally, in fact  \n\\\u003eHe bends only slightly before letting a plate of mixed foodstuffs and a paper-wrapped hunk of meat fall onto the stone floor  \n\\\u003eHe leaves without a word  \n\\\u003eYou look at the two meals, both looking pretty unappetizing  \n\\\u003e\"The meat is for me,\" Faolre says flatly  \n\\\u003eYou slide it closer to her, but you also offer part of your own meal after you take all you can stomach from it  \n\\\u003e\"You are their prisoner as well. They will not feed you until tomorrow if you give it up, and I will not let it go to waste.\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess looks like she hasn't had much to eat herself in days  \n\\\u003eYou place your meal down next to hers and walk to the lever  \n\\\u003eThe switch is thrown and Faolre's arms drop free  \n\\\u003eShe's thoroughly suspicious of your gesture, and even more so when you return to the cell to join her  \n\\\u003e\"Haven't you ever been taught to not disturb a beast while she eats?\"  \n\\\u003eDoes she see herself as a beast?  \n\\\u003e\"You also haven't been taught not to answer a question with another, it seems. But, I'll humor you. All you humans see my kind as beasts. Tell me I'm wrong.\"  \n\\\u003eShe grabs a handful of your dinner and shoves it into her muzzle while waiting for your answer  \n\\\u003eYou've frankly never had much contact with wolves, only seeing a few at a cautious distance  \n\\\u003eBut the foreignness of their culture and…bodies has always intrigued you  \n\\\u003eAs you watch the wolfess devour her meal there's a warmth that spreads through you  \n\\\u003eAre you actually becoming enticed by this fur-covered woman of the wilderness?  \n\\\u003eYou were so concerned with not angering her that you blocked out all other senses, but now that you have a moment of respite you can smell it  \n\\\u003eHer pheromones  \n\\\u003eIs that even possible between man and wolf?  \n\\\u003eIs she even aware at what her body is doing to you?  \n\\\u003eYou walk over to the water trough in a haze and splash yourself back to lucidity  \n\\\u003e\"Ready to continue already?\" she sneers  \n\\\u003eYou nod, face still dripping  \n  \n\\\u003eThe thought of washing her upper body makes you even more on edge  \n\\\u003eYou grab some fresh cloths and soak them before returning to your station  \n\\\u003e\"Wait,\" Faolre says. “Aren't you going to secure my chains first?\"  \n\\\u003eYou completely forgot about pulling the lever again, but you're willing to take the risk with her  \n\\\u003e\"You are a fool.\"  \n\\\u003eVery likely  \n\\\u003eIt seems her insult was her last-ditch effort to draw some kind of fear out of you  \n\\\u003e\"What is your name?\"  \n\\\u003eWow, when was the last time you actually gave that some thought?  \n\\\u003eYou've gone by the alias “Anon\" for so long it's become your identity  \n\\\u003eIt's surprisingly enough to satisfy her  \n\\\u003e\"Anon? Hmph. Well, if you're not going to restrain me, then at least take your stool back. I can sit perfectly fine on my own.\"  \n\\\u003eLetting her use it would actually give you a better vantage to clean her from, seeing as she almost comes up to your own head just from a seated position  \n\\\u003e\"They were right to lock you up in this prison, Anon. You're too soft to be out there risking your life.\"  \n\\\u003eYou want to prove her wrong somehow, but a contest of strength would not end well for you  \n\\\u003eYou continue the grooming, tentatively washing her abdominals and winding around to her lower and upper back  \n\\\u003eFaolre stares daggers at you when you work your way back to the front  \n\\\u003eYou're not even going to entertain the thought of rubbing her breasts right now  \n\\\u003eYou do her arms, hands, between her fingers…  \n\\\u003e\"I've been unrestrained for some time now, and you haven't once offered to let me wash myself.\"  \n\\\u003eThat…hadn't really dawned on you  \n\\\u003eShe snatches the cloth from your hand and takes care of her neck, face, and head herself  \n\\\u003eYou proceed to dry the parts you've already washed and apply some medicinal salve  \n\\\u003eFresh bandages are wrapped over the closed wounds  \n\\\u003eShe opens her mouth to say something, but bites her tongue and allows you to finish your job  \n\\\u003eYou step back to admire your handiwork, and the wolfess scoffs  \n\\\u003e\"You can stop your gawking. I'm a beast, not a work of art.\"  \n\\\u003eMaybe she's a little of both  \n\\\u003eIt's one of those unfortunate times when your inner monologue seeps out  \n\\\u003eFaolre's brow raises, and you can't make out exactly what kind of distorted expression she's trying to make with her mouth  \n\\\u003eThe gentle padding of the cleric's footsteps announce his return  \n\\\u003e\"My, you've done a fine job for yourself, my child. I've been given privilege to allow you a night at our town's comfortable inn if your chore was serviceable enough. I do say you've gone far and beyond what was expected of you.\"  \n\\\u003eFather Frond gathers up the baskets, but gives a worried look to the dish with the metal sliver in it  \n\\\u003eHe strikes up a forced look of poise and beckons you along  \n\\\u003eYou give a pitiful look to the wolfess, still sitting on the stool  \n\\\u003eYou doubt anyone's going to try and take it from her  \n\\\u003eBut can't she at least join you at the inn?  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess laughs mockingly at your naiveté  \n\\\u003e\"I'm afraid Faolre will have to remain here for now,\" Frond says. \"However, she is due for an audience with the lord and captain in a few days to decide whether she will be released. If you choose to remain in our town until then, you may be called upon again to help her become more…presentable, if you will.\"  \n\\\u003eYou follow the cleric up the stairs, giving one last glance at the wolfess in her cell  \n\\\u003eHer cold demeanor falters for a second  \n\\\u003eThere's a hint of longing in her golden eyes  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 2: Thistlecrik]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eThistlecrik  \n\\\u003eYou didn't even know the name of the town that was holding you captive until the end of your first day of servitude  \n\\\u003eEven after being released, you still don't feel entirely comfortable here  \n\\\u003eNot to mention you haven't seen hide nor hair of the town's lord, the one who supposedly decreed all mercenaries must be locked up yet gave you a room at the inn the very same day  \n\\\u003eSurprisingly, you're given your weapons back as though you were just another traveler passing through the town  \n\\\u003eThis pisses off Captain Brackard, but the rest of the populace has warmed up to your “mysterious vagrancy\"  \n\\\u003eTheir admiration means nothing to you, though  \n\\\u003eThe only one in this town whose attention you care about is still locked up in prison  \n\\\u003eFaolre  \n\\\u003eFor the last three nights you've slept in a cozy bed while the wolfess only has the stone floor for comfort  \n\\\u003eAnd ever since your first meeting you have been prohibited from seeing her again  \n\\\u003eNot even Father Frond has the authority to let you visit  \n\\\u003eThe town may not fear you, but they also don't want a mercenary “scheming\" with a prisoner of war  \n\\\u003eBut who will change her bandages or scrub her fur if not you?  \n\\\u003eThese kind of thoughts invade your mind constantly  \n\\\u003eEven when you realize how infatuated you are with someone who could very well be a remorseless murdered, someone who didn't hesitate to slash your clothes on your first meeting, a part of you wants to see her innocence.  \n\\\u003eIt's almost noon on your fourth day in Thistlecrik  \n\\\u003eFather Frond confronts you with a concerned look about him  \n\\\u003e“Faolre is to be brought to the town square for an audience with the captain and our lord tomorrow.\"  \n\\\u003eNow you're concerned, too  \n\\\u003eWhy would they make it a public spectacle unless it's an execution?  \n\\\u003eThe cleric tries to reassure you  \n\\\u003e“Now, now, let's not be too hasty. Our lord has asked that Faolre be spruced up once more before the meeting. You are being given this opportunity, if you so wish.\"  \n\\\u003eYou take the job without hesitation  \n\\\u003eOnce you and Frond collect his cleaning baskets you're easily outpacing the cleric on the way to the prison  \n\\\u003eHe follows you in just far enough to give your clearance to the guards, and you race down the stairs  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess is sitting on the stool you left her  \n\\\u003e“Why so out of breath, Anon?\" Faolre says coldly. “If this is a prison break you are ill-prepared for it.\"  \n\\\u003eSeveral days worth of anxiety about the wolfess has made your inner monologue uninhibited  \n\\\u003eYou tell her you were worried about her  \n\\\u003e“You insult me,\" she growls. “A few cuts and some sullied fur against all the adversaries I've faced before? Do you see me as a mewling PUP?\"  \n\\\u003eShe rises and flings her stool against the stone wall  \n\\\u003eIt splinters like glass  \n\\\u003eHer anger only makes you sympathize with her more  \n\\\u003eYou tell her what the cleric told you  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess readies a snarky remark, but withdraws it  \n\\\u003e“I already know. No doubt they want to parade around the 'tamed' beast before whatever fate they'll bestow upon me. If it's anything less than death, I hope you are trustworthy enough to put me down before any more humiliation.\"  \n\\\u003eYou shake away grizzly images like guillotines and chopping blocks, or having to shoot a crossbow bolt into her yourself  \n\\\u003eYou remove and fold your cloak, then prepare your cleaning supplies  \n\\\u003e“Have I given you permission to touch me again?\"  \n\\\u003eYou look plaintively at her, hoping she won't be so difficult about it this time  \n\\\u003e“Fine, do what you must. I can see they have your full loyalty now.\"  \n\\\u003eShe sits back down on the stone floor and presents her bandaged limbs to you  \n\\\u003eThe wrappings are damp, dirty, and unraveling a bit  \n\\\u003eObviously nobody tended to her since you did  \n\\\u003eFortunately, there's very little blood on the bandages and almost all the wounds have closed up nicely  \n\\\u003eThe only wound that still looks raw is the one the metal sliver was embedded in  \n\\\u003eShe's undoubtedly going to have some nasty scars under all the fur, but it will probably be something she'll take pride in  \n\\\u003eYou begin washing her feet, taking extra time on her nails and pads  \n\\\u003eIt takes you a moment to remember she isn't restrained to the wall like the last time you did this, but she neither reminds you nor stops you from your task  \n\\\u003e“Tell me, Anon, what do you hope to achieve as a mercenary? Are you hoarding gold for a life of luxury, or is it the pursuit of adventure that keeps you going?\"  \n\\\u003e She stretches her legs out, wriggling her toes mockingly  \n\\\u003e“Do you even get to have 'adventures', or is cleaning beasts the most exciting tale you can tell?\"  \n\\\u003eYou tell her again you don't consider her a beast  \n\\\u003eBut much like the question about your name, she catches you off guard  \n\\\u003eYou know how dangerous your line of work can be  \n\\\u003eWell, your inner voice chimes in, that at least gives you reason to live each day with equal parts caution and zeal  \n\\\u003eWhat's the end goal, though?  \n\\\u003e“No answer? Just day after day of toiling for a little coin? Hmph. Not every man can sleep knowing they might die without a legacy to show for it. Maybe I've underestimated you.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre inhales sharply as you work your way up her legs  \n\\\u003eShe isn't tensing them this time  \n\\\u003e“And what about your loved ones? Are you alone in this world? Is Anon alone every night in bed?\"  \n\\\u003eYou say nothing  \n\\\u003eJust pause for a moment in reflection  \n\\\u003eHer breathing grows heavier as you work up her inner thigh  \n\\\u003eShe hasn't warned you about getting too close yet  \n\\\u003eWhen she lifts a paw you expect the warning to come as a sharp swipe  \n\\\u003eBut it drifts to her chest dreamily, as though intending to cup one of her heavy breasts  \n\\\u003eShe snaps out of her haze and glares at you  \n\\\u003e“Don't I disgust you? Why do you so eagerly handle me? I can't imagine why a human would care for a female so lacerated, especially one with soiled fur to trap the grime of battle in.\"  \n\\\u003eScars can be attractive, especially those on a capable warrior  \n\\\u003eAnd her fur is very soft know that you've washed it  \n\\\u003eYou touch her pelt to reinforce your point, but you draw your hand back as if touching lightning itself  \n\\\u003eIf nothing else has earned you her scorn yet, this would have probably been the mistake to do it  \n\\\u003eBut she just looks at you pitifully  \n\\\u003e“Your kin would look down on your degeneracy. Hand me a fresh rag.\"  \n\\\u003eBefore the wolfess accepts it she removes her chest wrap  \n\\\u003eHer ample breasts hang unconstricted, with rosy nipples staring at you like another pair of judgmental eyes  \n\\\u003eThe cloth is snatched from your grip as she motions to her back  \n\\\u003e“This isn't to titillate you,\" she warns. “It was a mistake to keep you from a thorough job last time. Now you're going to make up for what you missed.\"  \n\\\u003eYou focus on the fur that was covered by the chest wrap  \n\\\u003eAs she implied, there's a buildup of dirt and mats you hadn't gotten to comb through before  \n\\\u003eNot that is was your fault  \n\\\u003eYou work through her back while she tends to the front  \n\\\u003eYou assume she's just covering her front, up to her torso, until her paws stray south  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess hunches over slightly as the wet rag disappears under her loincloth  \n\\\u003eThe rumble of her throat reverberates down her back and into your hands  \n\\\u003eHer ears fold back  \n\\\u003eMeanwhile, you're unsure how far up you should be working  \n\\\u003eIs it safe to touch a wolf's head when she's so absorbed in her private ministrations?  \n\\\u003eYour boldness says yes  \n\\\u003eYou continue upward behind the ears, perking them back up at your touch  \n\\\u003eIs she really letting you do this?  \n\\\u003eYes, but not for long  \n\\\u003eFaolre stirs like a creature woken from a crack of thunder  \n\\\u003e“That's enough.\"  \n\\\u003eShe flings her cloth over the shoulder, and it splats against your face  \n\\\u003eThe dampness is just an inconvenience, but then you smell the sex of the wolfess' own wetness mingled in  \n\\\u003eThe potency is hypnotizing  \n\\\u003eFaolre scoffs at your hesitation to remove the rag  \n\\\u003e“Your deviancy is exploitable. Good to know.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eYou apply more salve onto her closed wounds to ensure they fully heal  \n\\\u003eThe one that had the metal sliver needs closer inspection  \n\\\u003eYou gingerly touch it with the salve  \n\\\u003eFaolre shudders as though the tender lesion was some sort of erogenous zone  \n\\\u003e“N-no more,\" she…whimpers?  \n\\\u003eYou're baffled by how vulnerable she's acting, but knowing her she'll kill you on the spot if you press the matter  \n\\\u003eYou wrap her up with new bandages  \n\\\u003eThey almost snap right off as the wolfess flexes her muscles as a show of her recovering strength  \n\\\u003eFinally comes the brushing  \n\\\u003eOr the attempt  \n\\\u003e“Do I look like a PET to you?\"  \n\\\u003eShe snaps the handle off and tosses it with the rest of the broken wood  \n\\\u003e“I may be forced to accept your treatment, but I won't accept your haughty grooming.\"  \n\\\u003eShe wasn't “forced\" to accept either one  \n\\\u003eFaolre is running a finger over the brush head's soft bristles, subconsciously  \n\\\u003eBest not to draw attention to it  \n\\\u003eMeals are brought down just like the other day: another slab of meat for Faolre and a much nicer plate as a “reward\" for your assistance  \n\\\u003eIt definitely looks like it came from an actual kitchen, but you offer it up to Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou can always get more for yourself at the inn  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess is even less hesitant to take your servings this time  \n\\\u003eShe eats ravenously, but with the look of a child forced to stomach their vegetables  \n\\\u003e“What is your agenda?\" she mumbles through a mouthful of food. “What payment are you getting from mending my wounds and grooming my body and fattening me up?\"  \n\\\u003eThis is a question you think you can answer confidently  \n\\\u003eYou do it because it's your job  \n\\\u003eYou can't always receive pay in gold  \n\\\u003eSometimes you have your very life sold back to you  \n\\\u003eEvery task keeps you moving forward, even when it uses none of your training or knowledge  \n\\\u003eFaolre's furrowed brow relaxes somewhat  \n\\\u003eIs that a look of hurt in her face?  \n\\\u003eIs she offended you see her as nothing more than an obligation?  \n\\\u003eWas she expecting, hoping for a different kind of response?  \n\\\u003eYou can't confess how you feel for her, not yet  \n\\\u003eYou look to your cloak as you pack up the medicinal baskets  \n\\\u003eIt's just within reach if she needs it  \n\\\u003eAs you head back up the stairs you ignore the shouts of the wolfess  \n\\\u003e“Hey! Take your dirty rag with you! HEY!\"  \n  \n\\\u003eThere's a bit of a chill tonight, but Faolre needs your cloak more than you do  \n\\\u003eThere's also a buzz of activity in the town  \n\\\u003eGuards are running around frantically while the townsfolk watch in confusion  \n\\\u003eAs you try to stay out of the way, you hear musing playing  \n\\\u003eSoft, and almost drowned out by the commotion  \n\\\u003eIn a narrow alley way on top of a stack of crates is a bard  \n\\\u003eLute in hand, and a white skull mask fanged like a mantis on his head  \n\\\u003eThe disguise doesn't muffle his whimsical voice in the slightest  \n\\\u003e“Busy evening, hmm?\" he croons. “Whole town's looking for their missing lord.\"  \n\\\u003eMissing?  \n\\\u003eThat can't be good  \n\\\u003e“Ah, don't look so concerned! I'm sure he'll turn up soon. I don't mean to sound uncaring, but now I get to play in the heart of the town while everyone's distracted, rather than needing to hide outside the walls.\"  \n\\\u003eHe shifts his posture  \n\\\u003e“Say now, would you like a song? I always play what I see, and you have a lot to sing about. No charge, of course. Stay as long as you wish.\"  \n\\\u003eMight as well, seeing as the wolfess weighs too much on your thoughts right now to let you sleep  \n\\\u003e“Splendid.\"  \n\\\u003eHe tunes his lute and strums a pickup  \n\\\u003e{~\"Nameless one and furry alpha\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Gather here at war's omega\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Together under soggy stone\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Just Anon and his dear Faolre\"~}  \n\\\u003eYour blood runs cold  \n\\\u003eHow does he…?  \n\\\u003e{~\"The towns of skin, fur, and karma\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Birth bitter, mur'drous ma's and pa's\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Their sins for which they must atone\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"'Cept Anon and his dear Faolre\"~}  \n\\\u003eWait, Thistlecrik?  \n\\\u003eAnd what else?  \n\\\u003e{~\"Their love is seen anathema\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"On beds of dirt and beds of straw\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Their lovemaking is not condoned\"~}  \n\\\u003e{~\"Poor Anon and his dear Faolre\"~}  \n\\\u003eThe song is equally suspicious and embarrassing  \n\\\u003eIt doesn't seem to have an end, either  \n\\\u003eYou back away from the bard, and as he drones on you run off to the inn  \n\\\u003eHis voice grows louder as though trying to find his audience  \n\\\u003e{~JUST A-NON AND HIS DEAR FAH-OL-RAH!~}  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 3: The Bard, Lord Digre]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eLast night was a fever dream  \n\\\u003eYou were tending to Faolre and some innocuous ailment, like a chipped claw  \n\\\u003eBut the more you tried to help, the worse her health got  \n\\\u003eShe was dying  \n\\\u003eYou did everything you could, and the townsfolk around you were cheering you on  \n\\\u003eWas it motivation that you could save her, or encouragement to end her suffering?  \n\\\u003eAll the while, that damned bard played his tune over and over  \n\\\u003eYou could still hear it even after you woke up in a sweat  \n\\\u003eIt's the day Faolre is supposed to be brought before the whole town, its bitter militia captain, and their mysterious lord  \n\\\u003eOn the way over you meet up with Father Frond  \n\\\u003eHe's carrying one of his cleaning baskets  \n\\\u003e\"Just in case we have to...her body...\" he mumbles  \n\\\u003eThat's not a good omen  \n\\\u003e\"Just in case.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're still allowed to openly carry your weapons, but you suspect just as many eyes will be on you as the wolfess  \n\\\u003eCan't have an outsider staging a rescue attempt, right?  \n\\\u003eShe's already standing on a platform in the center of town  \n\\\u003eNo guillotine or chopping block yet  \n\\\u003eShe's wearing your cloak, but tied at the waist  \n\\\u003eLittle else to cover herself with apart from her chest wrap and loincloth  \n\\\u003eProbably doesn't help lessen her image of “barbarism\" in the people's eyes   \n\\\u003eShe's locked in a stare down with Captain Brackard, who refuses to break eye contact until it's time to introduce the lord  \n\\\u003e\"Lord Digre!\"  \n\\\u003eFinally, a chance to see this elusive ruler  \n\\\u003eThe one who issues rewards on the same day as convictions, to the same person no less  \n\\\u003eThe one who sends his entire town into panic when he goes missing, yet evidently shows up the next day as though nothing is wrong, according to Frond  \n\\\u003eThe one who...  \n\\\u003eNo...  \n\\\u003eHIM?  \n\\\u003eStepping up to the platform is a man covered entirely by a mantle of dark feathers, with a midnight cowl and a very familiar mantis-skull mask  \n\\\u003eIt can't be the bard  \n\\\u003eMaybe the face cover is some common ceremonial thing the town has?  \n\\\u003e\"Good day to you all! I apologize for creating a stir last night in my absence.\"  \n\\\u003eThat's his voice, no doubt  \n\\\u003eHe scans the crowd in acknowledgement, but pauses briefly when he looks in your direction  \n\\\u003e\"A week ago, we found this young wolf warrior standing among the fallen soldiers of war. Some of our own, and even some of hers.\"  \n\\\u003eThere's angry murmuring coming from the townsfolk  \n\\\u003eWhatever Faolre did, you fear it's going to be difficult to defend  \n\\\u003e\"All signs of the bloodbath point to this wolf girl as the transgressor, including her refusal to argue otherwise.\"  \n\\\u003eDammit, Faolre  \n\\\u003e\"This alone would make for a compelling case to punish her, compounded with the concerns many of you all have expressed for bringing a stranger into out quiet little town.\"  \n\\\u003eEven his normal speech is gratingly musical  \n\\\u003eThe crowd grows restless  \n\\\u003eFaolre stays silent  \n\\\u003eThat's when you notice her bloodied, sundered armor on display near her, and two massive blades crisscrossed behind it  \n\\\u003eIf that's indeed her equipment, then you can see why she's so intimidating to the people here  \n\\\u003eBy contrast, the lord is completely covered from head to toe, making him a rather imposing figure in his own right without plate or pauldron  \n\\\u003e\"However...\"  \n\\\u003eJust that word turns the whole mood of the gathering on its head  \n\\\u003eThe crowd looks confused  \n\\\u003eYou have a moment of hope  \n\\\u003eThe captain looks as though a horse shat on his feet  \n\\\u003eDigre draws a small bottle from his mantle  \n\\\u003eInside the bottle you see the sliver of metal you plucked from the wolfess' wound  \n\\\u003eThat feeling of dread returns when you stare at it  \n\\\u003e\"This was found on her body. Death Spall. Composition like crystallized mercury, and extremely lethal when used against wolves in particular. What doesn't outright kill them certainly will over time, often with building rage.\"  \n\\\u003eDigre palms the bottle and hands it off to Brackard  \n\\\u003eThe captain doesn't look thrilled to be touching it, and hands it down the line of guards  \n\\\u003e\"No such weapon this shard belongs to was recovered on the battlefield, and I have my doubts this young wolf is capable of inflicting such a wound against herself. I suspect an outside force is at work to create tension between our people, and so I cannot hold this one accountable for what may or may not have happened that day.\"  \n\\\u003eYou can already hear the disappointment and frustration of the crowd  \n\\\u003e\"Faolre will be released under the good faith that her actions were not done with freewill. However, she will be exiled from this community immediately, taking her armor but not her weapons.\"  \n\\\u003eNobody looks happy about the judgment  \n\\\u003eNone of the townsfolk will see a bloodbath  \n\\\u003eThe captain won't receive the honors of an execution  \n\\\u003eFaolre herself looks upset about losing her swords but not as livid as you would expect  \n\\\u003eThe guards present her armor, which she looks at as though it were soiled by something far worse than blood  \n\\\u003e\"Esteemed guest, Anon.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard has a talent for making your blood do all sorts of things with just a few words, like boil or freeze  \n\\\u003e\"May I ask one last favor from you and please help dress Faolre for her departure?\"  \n\\\u003eNeither you nor Faolre wants to do this  \n\\\u003eLikely for different reasons  \n\\\u003eBut your future with her is uncertain, and you'll take whatever chance you can to be with the wolfess for as long as you can  \n\\\u003eYou approach the platform as much of the audience disperses, and the wolfess holds out your cloak  \n\\\u003eStanding in almost nothing once again just like in prison  \n\\\u003eBut you refuse to take it back  \n\\\u003eShe says nothing as she wraps it around her neck  \n\\\u003eYou help her don her armor, pulling belts taught and clasping plates snugly  \n\\\u003eIt's as though you're preparing her for war, a feeling you would rather not have  \n\\\u003eShe's already a muscular figure (with some well-placed curves to boot), but adding in the armor makes her a more sizable threat than any male human knight you've seen  \n\\\u003eAnd once again, you're admiring the wolfess' physique as you gravitate around her  \n\\\u003eHer equipment is tailored to her body perfectly, and you are fortunate enough to explore it all while piecing her together  \n\\\u003eShe may have admirable scars of a hardened fighter already, but you don't want to see such a perfect creature battered any further  \n\\\u003eA chunk of her torso plate is split in the front, too damaged to fit properly  \n\\\u003eShe takes your cloak and binds the halves tightly  \n\\\u003eIf you never get that cloak back again, you'll at least know it's being put to good use  \n\\\u003eShe stands as though dead on her feet; an image of a slain warrior from both her outward appearance and her sullen demeanor  \n\\\u003eWhen you try to console Faolre, do ANYTHING for her, the guards rebuff you  \n\\\u003eShe's led to the town gate, where a few remaining onlookers wait for closure  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess is driven out from the walls, continuing her silence  \n\\\u003eShe acknowledges nobody while marching off toward the forest  \n\\\u003eNever looking back, changing her stride, or making a sound  \n\\\u003eIt's an anticlimactic end to your encounter with the wolfess  \n\\\u003eThe guards won't even let you out of town yet, despite originally wanting nothing to do with you  \n\\\u003e\"The lord has asked everyone else to remain in these walls while the wolf takes her leave,\" one of the faceless guards says.  \n\\\u003eThe lord, huh?  \n\\\u003eIf you can't leave yet, then it may be time to pay this man a visit  \n\\\u003eHe exiled the wolfess you've given your care to, and now he has her swords  \n\\\u003eIf nothing else, you want to make sure at least one of those things returns to her  \n  \n\\\u003eEven though such a modest little town has such an eccentric ruler, it doesn't have a grand estate for him  \n\\\u003eYou find the bard-lord's home atop what's probably the only hill in the whole region, needing no direction in finding it  \n\\\u003eThough Father Frond and Captain Brackard have a few choice words before you head there  \n\\\u003e\"Please, don't do anything brash,\" the cleric says  \n\\\u003e\"Please, go ahead and try to start something,\" the captain says  \n\\\u003eYou give them both your goodbyes in different amounts of respect  \n\\\u003eJust in case  \n\\\u003eThere are several guards posted leading up to the front steps, none of whom look like they're going to stop your approach  \n\\\u003eIn fact, one even greets you  \n\\\u003e\"His lordship is waiting for you up in his parlor,\" the man says  \n\\\u003eThey don't give so much as a second glance at your strung crossbow, or the arm you have on the hilt of your sword  \n\\\u003eYou almost wish they had tried stopping you, rather than this suspicious nonchalance  \n\\\u003eThe foyer is unimpressive, as are the stairs leading to the second floor  \n\\\u003eNot a single guard is anywhere inside the actual home, and the only sign of humanity is a painting of a human woman above the parlor doors  \n\\\u003eFaded almost beyond recognition, but you'd imagine she would have been a beauty  \n\\\u003eYou throw open the doors to meet with the bard, who's standing before a small fireplace  \n\\\u003e\"No need to thank me for the room at the inn,\" he says mirthfully. \"Just a little token of good faith for how we treated you on your first day here.\"  \n\\\u003eGood faith?  \n\\\u003eAnd what about Faolre?  \n\\\u003eWhat was SHE given for being a prisoner all that time?  \n\\\u003e\"Hmm?\"  \n\\\u003eLord Digre does a few listless twists  \n\\\u003e\"The wolfess already has my apology. Unfortunately, that's all I have to give back to her. She knew she wouldn't be able to leave with her swords, and we came to an understanding.\"  \n\\\u003eHe says, not so subtly motioning to her pair of blades sitting against the wall the same distance between the two of you  \n\\\u003eWell, it looks like you're going to have to be the one to deliver those to her  \n\\\u003e\"Oh?\"  \n\\\u003eHis voice never loses its musical tone  \n\\\u003e\"Do you think Faolre wants those back? Do you think you'd be doing her a favor giving them to her? Did you ever stop to think I've already given her a taste of the life she actually wanted? That her 'prison' was actually a form of wish fulfillment?\"  \n\\\u003eDo bards ever not talk in pompous riddles?  \n\\\u003eYou shake your head  \n\\\u003eYou know Faolre, and you think you know how unhappy she is right now to be stripped of her warrior spirit, in multiple senses  \n\\\u003e\"Have you asked her?\" Digre retorts. \"She's asked you a lot of questions, but how much has she told you in return?\"  \n\\\u003eYou're really growing to hate bards  \n\\\u003eAnd with a flourish of the mantle, the lord pulls his lute out from nothingness  \n\\\u003e\"It sounds to me you have a lot to ask your wolfess. I'll let you leave the town now, but you should think twice about trying to drag her back to a life you think she desires.\"  \n\\\u003eThe ambient light in the room dims, as though preparing for the bard's impending performance  \n\\\u003e\"'Anon', eh? You know, people who are superstitious about quaint things like 'magic' think names have an incredible power. If you know one's true name, you have true power over them. And what better name than 'Anon'? Frankly, I'm a little jealous.\"  \n\\\u003eHe tunes a few strings; the notes echo eerily in the parlor  \n\\\u003eEven with his eyes completely concealed with that deathly looking mask, you can tell his gaze is directly on you  \n\\\u003e\"Now then, is there anything you wish to ask ME before we part ways?\"  \n\\\u003eEven if you can keep yourself from running through this arrogant bastard with your sword, what kind of question do you even start with?  \n\\\u003eThere are so many thoughts buzzing in your head right now  \n\\\u003eDo you go for serious or snarky?  \n\\\u003eDigre doesn't seem too much of a combative threat, but that could just be an act  \n\\\u003eHe also seems unhinged, as though everything he does has no rhyme (no pun intended) or reason  \n\\\u003e\"But that's where you're wrong, Anon.\"  \n\\\u003eDid your inner monologue just betray you again?  \n\\\u003eNo, your teeth are far too clenched to let any words escape  \n\\\u003e\"Everything I've done was for a good reason, I assure you. And yet, I'm sure the more I say, the more unbelievable my foresight will seem.\"  \n\\\u003eHe plucks a few more cords  \n\\\u003e\"I had to lock the poor girl up when we found her because of her affliction and rage, but I also wanted to give her 'something' she wants dearly. That's for YOU to figure out. And YOU come into this tale because I needed someone worldly and strong, like a mercenary, to chisel though the wolf girl's stone exterior to give that 'something' to her.\"  \n\\\u003eEvery note he plays sounds like it's coming from behind your ears, and not from his lute  \n\\\u003e\"And I had to send her away now both for the people's protection and hers as well. This town...doesn't care much for wolves, or the humans who love them. Father Frond, bless his soul, is an exception, but sometimes I wish he were more pragmatic like our cheerful Captain Brackard.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard shakes his mantis-masked head solemnly  \n\\\u003e\"Why the tension between our races? Well, that's a feud you could try asking the kings and dukes of our land about. While you're at it, try asking the rains why they feed the grasses but ruin our picnics. Our struggles and stories are on a much more personal scale, hmm?\"  \n\\\u003eOne of the strings snaps, but he doesn't react in the slightest  \n\\\u003eEven you know such a talented musician wouldn't be so careless with his instrument unless he meant to; unless he's making a point  \n\\\u003eWhen you look to the bard's glove, you think you see something sharp protruding from one of his fingers  \n\\\u003e\"But enough of my faffing about, you came here for the girl's weapons, yes? I don't believe what you're trying to do is the right thing, but I know what you'll END UP doing is, so go ahead and take them.\"  \n\\\u003eHe slams the butt of the lute down with a discordant ring  \n\\\u003e\"Anything else?\"  \n\\\u003eDare you bring up the mask?  \n\\\u003eWhat's behind it?  \n\\\u003e\"Ugliness, of course,\" the bard says happily. \"Why else do people wear masks? Ugliness of the skin, ugliness of intentions, ugliness of facing reality. No, I won't tell you what reason I have for wearing mine. Not yet.\"  \n\\\u003eWhen you don't follow up with any other question or comment, Digre turns around and faces the flickering hearth  \n\\\u003e\"You may leave, and I suggest you do so soon. You have some catching up to do.\"  \n\\\u003eYou take the wolfess' blades slowly, and then back out of the parlor in silence  \n\\\u003eThe bard keeps his back turned  \n\\\u003e{~Just Anon and his dear Faolre...~}  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 4: Gulesden]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eYou've always traveled with just as much as you need  \n\\\u003eCarrying your sword and crossbow day after day has made their weight negligible to you  \n\\\u003eCarrying someone else's weapons on top of that?  \n\\\u003eAnd heavy, cleaver-like weapons made for a wolf?  \n\\\u003eGetting around is a little more difficult now  \n\\\u003eThe blades can't even fit in sheaths, instead hanging awkwardly from your shoulders  \n\\\u003eNot to mention all the extra supplies you decided to stock up on  \n\\\u003eOnce the wolfess was out of sight of the town, you realized she left without a single bag or pouch  \n\\\u003eShe's alone out there with no food or provisions  \n\\\u003eBut if anyone is tough enough to withstand the wilderness, it's Faolre  \n\\\u003eStill, bringing her something to eat would be a good gesture  \n\\\u003eEspecially since you're afraid she still sees you as “loyal\" to the people of Thistlecrik, and somehow had a hand in her banishment  \n\\\u003eThe afternoon sun is still unforgiving by the time you've finished your confrontation with Lord Digre  \n\\\u003eYou march through the town gates, getting more than a few stares from the people you're leaving behind  \n\\\u003eYou truthfully have no loyalty to them; Father Frond was a kind ally, even giving you some medicine to leave with, but you suspect he would rather have you remain in the town than chase down the wolfess  \n\\\u003eShe's all you can think about  \n\\\u003eWhat started out as a pheromone-induced allure has evolved into something much more sincere  \n\\\u003eYou would never be able to deny just how attractive Faolre is to you, but more than anything you worry about her being alone and unhappy  \n\\\u003eShe could be a shredded pile of fur and bone and you'd still care for her  \n\\\u003eYou pause  \n\\\u003eA shiver runs through your spine as you process the image in your mind  \n\\\u003eIt's a horrifying thought, and you push onward to distract yourself  \n\\\u003eThe sooner you can be by her side the sooner you'll be put at ease  \n\\\u003eHer legs are long and her stride was determined, but if you keep your pace you should be able to catch up to her  \n\\\u003eAs long as you're going the right way, that is  \n\\\u003eYou do have your concerns, since you're going off nothing but the last direction you saw her head toward  \n\\\u003eYou beg for guidance and you're given distant screams  \n\\\u003eThey're not Faolre's, but that doesn't mean she's not in danger  \n\\\u003eYou break into a sprint with all your gear shifting and jostling painfully against your body  \n\\\u003eThe screams end just as soon as they begin, and once again you're back to moving by intuition  \n\\\u003eThere's a clearing  \n\\\u003eSitting on a fallen log, hunched over, is Faolre  \n\\\u003eBreathing heavily with a foreign sword in her paw  \n\\\u003eThe weapon must have come from one of the four bodies around her  \n\\\u003eYour joy in seeing the wolfess again is tempered by the remorselessness for those lying slaughtered at her feet  \n\\\u003eYou approach cautiously, though it's clear Faolre knows you're there  \n\\\u003e\"Self defense,\" she spits, driving the sword into the dirt. “I assume you thought I did this out of pleasure. Am I wrong?\"  \n\\\u003eNow that she says it, you oddly don't question her anymore  \n\\\u003eOr at least this time  \n\\\u003eBut what happened the day she was found by the lord's men?  \n\\\u003e\"I…don't know,\" she sighs  \n\\\u003eYou place her blades down by her side  \n\\\u003eRemoving the burden is physically liberating, but something still eats at your heart  \n\\\u003eAre you just dumping the burden back on her?  \n\\\u003eWas that obnoxious bard actually right?  \n\\\u003e\"My people ran into a human party as we scouted the area. We didn't intend on fighting, but tensions haven't fully ended with the wars. I don't know who made the first strike that day, but it wasn't me.\"  \n\\\u003eShe looks at her swords  \n\\\u003eIt's the look of knowing you're dependent, or indebted, to something  \n\\\u003e\"Self defense,\" she says again. “I fought because we were all provoked. Surrender from either side was out of the question. Before I knew it, a searing pain gripped me and I blacked out on my feet. There was no bloodlust in my veins, but when I regained my senses they were all dead.\"  \n\\\u003eAll of them?  \n\\\u003eFaolre's eyes narrow  \n\\\u003eSome sort of realization hits her  \n\\\u003e\"No. There were three missing bodies from those I counted at the beginning: two human, one wolf. I can only imagine the victor has the other captive. I looked around as much as I could before your lord's men found me, but there was no sign of them.\"  \n\\\u003eYou firmly tell her Digre is not “your lord\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard has been more than enough of a headache to ever pledge your allegiance to  \n\\\u003e\"Fine, then you can join me in being an outcast.\"  \n\\\u003eWell, you'd certainly like to join her  \n\\\u003e\"I didn't mean it that way,\" she scoffs. “You have no reason for following me. I'm going to wander aimlessly for the rest of my days.\"  \n\\\u003eDoesn't she have family or a home to go back to?  \n\\\u003e\"The fact nobody came to 'rescue' me in that miserable prison should be proof I don't. And if any of my people did come, it would surely be to take my life for 'betraying' my kin.\"  \n\\\u003eYou notice the strip of red on the bridge of Faolre's muzzle, where a brand new cut is oozing fresh blood  \n\\\u003ePart of you was hoping you wouldn't have to use Father Frond's medicine so soon  \n\\\u003e\"What are you doing?\" the wolfess grumbles as you prepare your supplies  \n\\\u003eYou don't doubt her combat prowess or her steel constitution, but she isn't going to scare you off from mending her wounds anymore  \n\\\u003eYou give her a definitive look as you lean in and clean the blood off with a fresh cloth  \n\\\u003e\"Do you think you're going to bandage THIS one? I'm sure you would love to wrap my mouth shut with your—“  \n\\\u003eYou close her muzzle, but gently and with only your hand  \n\\\u003eThe cloth soaks up the blood with soft strokes  \n\\\u003eFaolre is paralyzed by your touch, making no more objections while you work  \n\\\u003ePart of Frond's “miracle package\" includes some sort of resin and paper for treating these particular types of wounds  \n\\\u003eYou rub some of the healing salve into her cut and then apply the resin-coated paper over it  \n\\\u003eThe paper hardens over her muzzle after some time, adhering to her snout naturally  \n\\\u003eAll the while you're stroking her fur around the wound, keeping the hairs out and subconsciously trying to soothe her with a tune that's stuck in your head  \n\\\u003eThe silence of the wolfess is more than surprising, but as you stroke her muzzle her eyelids droop and her breathing becomes heavy  \n\\\u003eDo you have some kind of magic touch for healing?  \n\\\u003eOr is she genuinely pacified by your presence?  \n\\\u003eControl over your own body slips away  \n\\\u003eBefore you know it, your lips are hovering over the top of her muzzle  \n\\\u003eFaolre almost lets it happen  \n\\\u003eHer eyes snap open at the last moment and she recoils in shock  \n\\\u003eShe sputters in confusion, shoving you back at arm's length  \n\\\u003e\"WHAT is the meaning…! What have you drugged me with? You humans and your damned remedies….\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre rubs the makeshift cast and gives it a few taps of her claw  \n\\\u003eShe's flustered, but maybe even a bit grateful?  \n\\\u003e\"Hmph,\" the wolfess grunts repeatedly, more times than she probably realizes  \n\\\u003e\"I suppose it's a serviceable job. What is your plan now that you've returned my weapons and all but kissed away my pain?\"  \n\\\u003eYou weren't holding out for a heartfelt show of gratitude from the wolfess, but you at least hoped she would pick up on your intentions  \n\\\u003eYou want to be with her, to join her on her journey  \n\\\u003eNo matter where she goes  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess, amazingly, grins  \n\\\u003e\"I think you're throwing your life away, but I admitted I might have underestimated you. If nothing else, I want to see how 'Anon' truly survives in this unforgiving world.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre rises up, grabbing her swords and hooking them to her back  \n\\\u003e\"Take what you need from their bodies, but I already have their gold.\"  \n\\\u003eWell, no sense in letting good loot go to waste, especially if they ambushed her first  \n\\\u003eNot much to scavenge apart from half-emptied waterskins and some loose tobacco  \n\\\u003eWait…  \n\\\u003eOn each of the men's bodies is a token quite familiar to you  \n\\\u003eThe Blood Coterie  \n\\\u003eStolen family crests stamped with this mercenary organization's disrespectful insignia  \n\\\u003eIf there's any band of thugs that gives all sellswords a bad name, it's them  \n\\\u003eMore than once you've run afoul of them, first because you turned down their membership and again any time you've taken work in their “domain\"  \n\\\u003eIt wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if half the rumors of them instigating war just to stay employed were true  \n\\\u003eThere's a muted ringing in your ears  \n\\\u003eThat's right…it wouldn't be surprising  \n\\\u003eBut what would that have to do with Faolre…?  \n\\\u003e\"Is Anon partial to corpses?\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess is smirking as the two of you head off  \n\\\u003eFaolre making lighthearted banter?  \n\\\u003eNow THAT is surprising  \n  \n\\\u003eYou and the wolfess walk for hours, having no clear heading or purpose  \n\\\u003eFaolre's immediate goal seems to be coercing your rations from you  \n\\\u003eYou're regretting not stocking up even more before you left Thistlecrik  \n\\\u003e\"You live a warrior's life, but you don't yet have a warrior's appetite,\" she chuckles smugly. “It's second only to the appetite of a hedonist.\"  \n\\\u003eWarrior or not, you do hope neither of you will have to draw your swords anytime soon  \n\\\u003eEspecially on each other  \n\\\u003eFaolre's pair doesn't seem to be as lethally sharp as your modest blade, but the force behind them would still cleave any foe in two  \n\\\u003e\"I hope your fascination is with my armaments, and not something more lecherous,\" she says as you lag behind  \n\\\u003eIt hadn't crossed your mind until she said something  \n\\\u003eNow you need to focus on her weapons just so you don't end up looking at her rump  \n\\\u003eEven ignoring their size, the craftsmanship of her swords is staggeringly impressive  \n\\\u003e\"The girls have yet to fail me.\"  \n\\\u003eGirls?  \n\\\u003eDoes she name them as well?  \n\\\u003e\"There is no shame in that!\" she growls. “Why wouldn't you give a legacy to a worth set of blades?\"  \n\\\u003eShe grabs the hilts as she introduces them  \n\\\u003e\"This one's Vorpel, and the other's Volfire.\"  \n\\\u003eYou suppose you'll have to think up something for your own weapons  \n\\\u003eOr at the very least your crossbow, considering you're a better shot than a swordsman  \n\\\u003eYou're happy you could reunite Faolre with her treasures, in spite of what the bard had said  \n\\\u003e\"I know you're one of them, regrettably,\" the wolfess responds, “but to take the word of such deceitful humans? Would you have left my property with that masked 'lord' simply because he told you to?\"  \n\\\u003eNot without her approval, you wouldn't  \n\\\u003eIt's relieving to hear the bard's little monologue was just an empty threat and a hollow warning  \n\\\u003eHollow, just like his music   \n\\\u003eThough you can't stop yourself from humming his melody  \n\\\u003eIt's the feeling of contentment, you tell yourself  \n\\\u003eYou're back with the wolfess you've fallen for  \n\\\u003eThe two of you have the entire world to explore  \n\\\u003eThough she does seem restless about it  \n\\\u003e\"I feel obligated to stop at the nearby village,\" she says after awhile  \n\\\u003eHer home?  \n\\\u003e\"No, just…where some of us have been staged to keep an eye on human movement.\"  \n\\\u003eSo a military camp…  \n\\\u003e\"No,\" she says flatly, but doesn't follow through with a clarification. “We won't stay long, but I should vouch for my own innocence if rumors of me abandoning my party are spreading already.\"  \n\\\u003eIt would be nice to see her people on more “peaceful\" terms, especially with Faolre for protection  \n\\\u003ePerhaps you might be seen as an ambassador for peacekeeping between humans and wolves?  \n\\\u003eThat may be too optimistic  \n\\\u003eAfter all, your own kind arrested you the moment you entered their town  \n\\\u003eIt'll be the wolves' chance to demonstrate better hospitality, at any rate  \n  \n\\\u003eGulesden  \n\\\u003eA small village in the basin of a valley  \n\\\u003eMultiple homes, some permanent and some pulled by massive wheels, dot the area  \n\\\u003eNow it's your turn to feel like the outcast  \n\\\u003eWolves make up the entirety of the population, a direct opposite to Thistlecrik  \n\\\u003eYou get the feeling the wolves pick up your scent long before you arrive  \n\\\u003e Faolre also seems to pick up on something  \n\\\u003e\"Stay close to me,\" she rumbles  \n\\\u003eMost of the villagers look at you in suspicion of mild disgust, but none dare harass you with Faolre at your side  \n\\\u003eAbout half of them look like warriors, but the rest are simple families and maybe even a few nomads  \n\\\u003eYour expectations for a warm welcome lower, but it seems every village (or town) has at least one “deviant\"  \n\\\u003eWhen the two of you are far enough out of range from the next closest wolf to eavesdrop, you're intercepted by another wolfess  \n\\\u003eBlack and white, groomed far better as a symbol of beauty instead of battle  \n\\\u003e\"Faolre, why do you keep this human to yourself?\" she purrs. “What use is an outsider to us if you just keep him under your crude paws? He should be allowed to meet our people through a much more gracious, much more majestic host.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre snaps her jaw at the sultry wolfess, nearly catching her throat  \n\\\u003eThe other wolfess turns up her nose with contempt  \n\\\u003eShe struts off with a sashay of the hips, as though letting you know her offer is still valid  \n\\\u003e\"Despicable harlot,\" Faolre mutters  \n\\\u003eYou didn't know wolves could be drawn to humans just the same  \n\\\u003e\"The degenerate ones. You would do yourself well not to associate with the worst of our people.  \n\\\u003eShe leads you to a gathering hall of sorts, one of the few seemingly permanent structures in the village  \n\\\u003eYou're met with more unfriendly stares as you enter, but Faolre is concerned with her own target  \n\\\u003eNow the eyes are on her as the wolfess approaches a tan male wolf, who's laughing jovially with some drinking mates  \n\\\u003eHis good mood ends when he's hoisted far enough off the floor for his feet to dangle pitifully  \n\\\u003e\"You'd better have a good excuse for being so cheerful, Hurcku,\" Faolre seethes. “Why did you desert your comrades on the battlefield?\"  \n\\\u003e\"F-F-Faolre!\" he squeaks. “I thought you were dead with the others when I chased the last of the humans off!\"  \n\\\u003eHe looks to you, worried, but Faolre jerks him out of your line of sight  \n\\\u003e\"W-where have you been these last several days?\" he continues  \n\\\u003e\"Rotting away in prison, I would hope the stories are saying,\" the wolfess says. “Did you not think to look for me when I wasn't among the bodies you had to bury?\"  \n\\\u003e\"N-no, Faolre, I'm sorry! I was too stricken with grief having to bury all the others—“  \n\\\u003e\"LIAR!\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre throws the tan wolf against the wall, rattling pictures and some hanging steins  \n\\\u003eUnlike the gasps and cries you'd anticipate with human bystanders, the other wolves are silent and focused  \n\\\u003eIs this just how altercations are handled in their society?  \n\\\u003e\"I was strangely enough PRESENT at the battlefield when the humans' troops shackled me and dragged me back to their town. The last I saw of our fallen brethren was them being lined up for burial, by the HUMANS. They showed far more respect for the dead than a coward like you!\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess must have intimidated all she could from Hurcku, because he refuses to say anything more than a few stuttering apologies  \n\\\u003e\"What happened to the men you supposedly chased?\" Faolre tries to squeeze out of him  \n\\\u003e\"Gone, I swear it! They outran me in my injured condition, but…!\"  \n\\\u003eHis voice is so quiet you can only make out his words through his lip motions  \n\\\u003e\"I know where they are hiding out!\"  \n\\\u003e\"And you haven't told any of the others yet?\" Faolre says derisively  \n\\\u003e\"And risk rekindling the war? Not me!\" Hurcku says. “But, I'm sure I could share such information with you, dear Faolre. You seem cordial with the humans now; I bet they would listen to you!\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre snarls at his comment  \n\\\u003e\"Fine then. Where are they now?\"  \n\\\u003eHurcku dusts himself off and beckons for the two of you to follow  \n\\\u003e\"I can show you. There's not too far out of the village. Come with me.\"  \n\\\u003eJust before the three of you leave, Hurcku bends down to where the fallen steins and other silverware are strewn about  \n\\\u003eYou see him palm a small metal disk and slip it into his vest  \n\\\u003eYou can't discern just why he's grinning  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 5: Hurcku]]**  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n\\\u003eAs much as you don't want to admit it, it's difficult to fully trust the kind of wolves you just met  \n\\\u003eHurcku in particular strikes you in an odd manner  \n\\\u003eFaolre seems to feel the same way about her own kin, but her skepticism is more out of anger from her grudge with him rather than regular suspicion  \n\\\u003eThe mistrust is unanimous, as the tan wolf doesn't want you too close to him while he leads you and Faolre out of the village  \n\\\u003eA few outlying wolves watch your departure, but none of them intervene  \n\\\u003e\"I haven't even attempted to scout them out myself,\" Hurcku explains, glancing behind him frequently. “I didn't want to spoil the opportunity before reinforcements came. Luckily, our dear Faolre is an entire army herself.\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess is unmoved by his words  \n\\\u003eYou get another uneasy feeling from the change in the air  \n\\\u003eNormally, you're pretty perceptive of the weather  \n\\\u003eYou have to be, since there are days when you have no shelter or company  \n\\\u003eWhen the winds and downpours keep you from finding a warm bed  \n\\\u003eYou were so preoccupied with Faolre you hardly acknowledged the dark clouds rolling in  \n\\\u003eYet you hold your tongue about your reservations  \n\\\u003eYou don't want to be the one to run back to safety out of concern for a little rain  \n\\\u003eEspecially when you would be hard-pressed to find accommodations in Gulesden without your lupine guide with you  \n\\\u003e\"Not much farther,\" Hurcku whispers. “They could be nearby, so we'll need to move quietly.\"  \n\\\u003eHe points to an overgrowth near the top of a large hill  \n\\\u003eThe branches look deliberately bent to make a screen of leaves  \n\\\u003eBehind them is a sunken entrance to a cave, leading down the middle of the hill  \n\\\u003e\"Quite the view and access to our territory,\" Faolre says to herself  \n\\\u003e\"Hmm? Oh, yes,\" Hurcku responds. “This is why we need to remove them immediately.\"  \n\\\u003eThey grow silent as the three of you approach the enemy den  \n\\\u003eIt's dark at the entrance, but the soft glow of candlelight draws you in as you delve underground  \n\\\u003eIt feels wrong to be hunting your own kind, but you've grown so attached to Faolre you're willing to take her side in this war  \n\\\u003eThough calling it a “war\" is terrible  \n\\\u003eThe fighting has ended for the most part, and no part of you wants to rekindle it  \n\\\u003eEven if it means never getting work as a mercenary ever again  \n\\\u003eThese days it's all about small-scale conflicts and personal matters  \n\\\u003ePeople pay you to stop minor quarrels or investigate meaningless rumors  \n\\\u003eNever before in your life have you felt you were a crucial component to some greater machination  \n\\\u003eIf the surviving humans intend on retaliating against or plotting some sort of extermination of the wolves, you have to step in  \n\\\u003eNot out of some duty to preserve their lives  \n\\\u003eBut because letting hatred and bloodshed go uncontested will not make a world you hope to share with Faolre  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess takes the lead, but Hurcku pulls back  \n\\\u003eHe pushes you ahead of him in the marching order, practically hiding behind you in spite of his larger size  \n\\\u003eAt the back of the den is what you'd expect from a band of stowaways  \n\\\u003eCrude furniture, dirty foods, leathers from creatures you hope didn't used to have rational thought…  \n\\\u003eThere are a lot more of them than you expected as well, numbering a half dozen brigands  \n\\\u003eAll of them look miserable for being hidden where no fresh air reaches, but you don't feel much sympathy for them  \n\\\u003eStained trophies and remnants of past slaughters litter the hideout  \n\\\u003eThey may be human, but something tells you they don't have the hearts of one  \n\\\u003eHurcku tries to issue a hushed strategy, but Faolre leaps ahead in ambush with her two swords held at the ready  \n\\\u003eTwo of the men fall without getting a chance to stand  \n\\\u003eThe rest draw blades in a panic, trying to assess the situation  \n\\\u003eOne of them spots the tan wolf, anger flashing in eyes  \n\\\u003e\"Hurcku, you beast! You trait—“  \n\\\u003eFaolre's momentum cuts the man down before he can finish his sentence, but the message was clear  \n\\\u003eYou draw your own sword and keep Hurcku from fleeing while the wolfess dispatches the remaining men  \n\\\u003eShe pauses for only a moment before turning her bloodlust to the tan wolf  \n\\\u003e\"How many times will you need to be called a traitor today?\" she growls between clenched teeth  \n\\\u003eThe tan wolf is not only outnumbered, but easily outmatched  \n\\\u003eYou think maybe even YOU could take him out in a duel  \n\\\u003e\"You knew these men, didn't you?\" Faolre says.  \n\\\u003eShe stamps closer, backing the wolf against the wall  \n\\\u003e“These men…these greedy killers…they were more your brethren than any wolf has ever been, WEREN'T THEY?\"  \n\\\u003eThere's a flash of light and Hurcku draws out a sickening blade  \n\\\u003eNow your unease and suspicion is justified  \n\\\u003eHe's holding a small, but deadly knife  \n\\\u003eThe blade is entirely Death Spall  \n\\\u003e\"COWARD!\" Faolre roars  \n\\\u003eHurcku whips the knife at her  \n\\\u003eBut dumb luck is on your side  \n\\\u003eWith a swing of the sword you bat the blade out of the air  \n\\\u003eYou need to throw yourself back just to avoid Faolre's rage  \n\\\u003eShe swings wildly at Hurcku, who tries his best to parry the blows with any object he can grab  \n\\\u003ePots, plates, belts, mugs…  \n\\\u003eEverything he wields is smashed with a single blow from the wolfess  \n\\\u003eA deep gash is sliced into the tan wolf  \n\\\u003eSomething plinks out of his torn clothes  \n\\\u003eThe emblem is foreign, but the insignia is unmistakable  \n\\\u003eThe Blood Coterie  \n\\\u003eThese are pieces you nearly wish didn't have to be assembled this way  \n\\\u003e\"I was going to interrogate your stump of a torso,\" Faolre says, “but now you don't even deserve a respectable death. How could you BETRAY YOUR OWN KIND?\"  \n\\\u003eHurcku's paw is covered in blood as he reaches into his shirt and drops a lumpy sphere onto the ground  \n\\\u003eThe room is blanketed with a paralyzing grime and a suffocating smoke  \n\\\u003e\"What witchcraft…?! You are a shameless bastard of a mutt!\"  \n\\\u003eWhen the smoke dissipates Hurcku has already escaped  \n\\\u003eFaolre's raw fury lets her break free of the sticky grime and give chase  \n\\\u003eYou, however, struggle to get even a single arm out  \n\\\u003eFlailing your sword does no good, and you end up dropping it out of exhaustion  \n\\\u003eThe sounds of their feet grow softer, and when you strain to hear what's happening you pick up on the rumble of encroaching thunder  \n\\\u003eYou call out to the wolfess, but there's no word back  \n\\\u003eNow you're even more anxious to free yourself  \n\\\u003e{~Treacherous knife and bloody paw~}  \n\\\u003e{~His honor and pride doth declaw~}  \n\\\u003eIt can't be  \n\\\u003eYou slip free of your bonds and drop to your knees  \n\\\u003eThe glint of the wolf's mercenary insignia draws your gaze  \n\\\u003e{~Betrayal makes a fool's gravestone~}  \n\\\u003eYou scramble to your feet and pursue the wolves  \n\\\u003eYour sword is left behind  \n\\\u003eTracking the retreating tan wolf isn't difficult with his blood leaving a vibrant trail  \n\\\u003e{~Shame it may fall on dear Faolre…~}  \n\\\u003eYou break into a mad sprint  \n\\\u003eYou pray the bard's invasive words, wherever they come from, aren't a premonition  \n\\\u003eWhen you reach the mouth of the cave, it feels like nighttime  \n\\\u003eThe sky is dark, and lightning heralds in the deluge of rain  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n\\\u003eYou struggle to catch up to the wolves deep in the forests  \n\\\u003eEvery moment you try to follow the blood trail is a bigger gap you're creating between you and Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou don't know how much time passes, but the storm grows impatient  \n\\\u003eNow the showers become your greatest threat  \n\\\u003eThey wash away the blood  \n\\\u003eThey blind you from the path  \n\\\u003eThey drown out the sounds of the wolfess screaming at the traitorous tan wolf  \n\\\u003eSoon, the rain and mud become dangerous allies  \n\\\u003eYou plod through the damp terrain, searching for any hint of Faolre's whereabouts  \n\\\u003eBut it's not her you find first  \n\\\u003eWhen you find his body, you feel violently ill  \n\\\u003eHis corpse lies flat but his arm is frozen aloft, reaching for the sky  \n\\\u003eWhat's even more terrifying is his skin  \n\\\u003eOr lack thereof  \n\\\u003eHe has been picked completely clean, with the skeleton of a wolf and a few scraps of tan fur left behind  \n\\\u003eAt his side is a spilled pouch with a substance unfamiliar to you  \n\\\u003eGiven the context, however, it's not unlikely he had used it for some kind of tricks or spells  \n\\\u003ePerhaps it was nothing more than a lure for monsters  \n\\\u003eThere's a shrill, ungodly caw as a shadow swoops overhead  \n\\\u003eA carrion bird, a servant of hell, a blight on the world  \n\\\u003eThe Spall Raven  \n\\\u003eThe beast that loaned the venomous metal its name  \n\\\u003eWhether it knows you're there or not, it's much more concerned with some other target  \n\\\u003eNever would any friend advise you to follow such a creature, but whatever poor soul the Spall Raven preys upon must be someone worth saving  \n\\\u003eYou kick up clods of mushy earth as you strain yourself in keeping the pace  \n\\\u003eThe reality of your fears drives you forward  \n\\\u003eIt devoured one wolf, and now you have to save the other from the same fate  \n\\\u003eAnd when you find her, your legs stop as your heart keeps racing forward  \n\\\u003eFaolre lies unmoving in the sludge of wet dirt, beside the corpses of two more ravens  \n\\\u003eOne of her blades is broken at the hilt, while the other is shattered into several pieces  \n\\\u003eThe Spall Raven circles the wolfess, ready to dive upon her when it feels she has no more fight left in her  \n\\\u003eThe wind isn't any friendlier to you than the other opposing elements, but there's only one way to close the distance between you and the airborne threat  \n\\\u003eYou apologize to your crossbow for never naming it as you swing it into your hands  \n\\\u003eYou intend on making its legacy right now  \n\\\u003eYou shoot a bolt at the raven, clipping its wing and sending it spiraling in place  \n\\\u003eAnd you nock another  \n\\\u003eThe second shot strikes true, plunging into its chest and making its flight erratic  \n\\\u003eAnd you nock another  \n\\\u003eThird one sails through the air but suppresses its escape  \n\\\u003eAnd you nock another  \n\\\u003eAnother  \n\\\u003eAnother  \n\\\u003eSeveral more rocket at the raven, creating needles of wood and metal that almost disappear amongst the bird's harried black feathers  \n\\\u003eJust when you're aware of how few remaining bolts you have, the next shot brings the Spall Raven to the earth, dead  \n\\\u003eYou drop your crossbow in a panic as you sprint over to Faolre's prone body  \n\\\u003eBlood is mixing with the water and mud  \n\\\u003eYour cloak couldn't hold all the pieces of her armor together as they were rent to scraps  \n\\\u003eYou drop to your knees, pleading for the wolfess to still be alive  \n\\\u003eWhat you find doesn't even feel like Faolre  \n\\\u003eHer body's shaking violently  \n\\\u003eShe's digging her claws into the ground, clinging to any support she can  \n\\\u003eWorst of all, she's whimpering  \n\\\u003eCrying faintly with her eyes sealed shut and her ears folded back  \n\\\u003eThe proud warrior, reduced to the mewling pup she warned you never to see her as  \n\\\u003eHer swords lie destroyed; you'll have to leave them behind  \n\\\u003eJust like Lord Digre wanted  \n\\\u003eEven your own weapons will have to be abandoned if you hope to have enough stamina to save Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou turn around on your heels and pull her arms over your shoulders  \n\\\u003eHer claws stab painfully into your chest as she grabs hold  \n\\\u003eYou try to hook her hind legs under your arms, but her overwhelming size makes this impossible  \n\\\u003eYou can only do one leg while the other drags limply behind  \n\\\u003eRain and tears blind your advance, but stopping isn't an option  \n\\\u003eYou hum loudly; a marching tune to motivate you through the elements and to handle the weight bearing down on you  \n\\\u003e{~Just…Anon…and…~}  \n\\\u003eEvery step pulls your feet down into the mud  \n\\\u003eYou wobble from side to side as you make your way forward  \n\\\u003eThere's distant music whenever you drift in a certain direction, and it quiets when you stray the other way  \n\\\u003eYou aim yourself wherever it's the loudest  \n\\\u003eIt's the only lead you have  \n\\\u003e{~…dear…Faolre…~}  \n\\\u003eShe moans weakly  \n\\\u003ePlease, hang on, Faolre  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 6: The Glade]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eYour life is Faolre's now  \n\\\u003eShe can't walk, so you're her legs  \n\\\u003eHer fur is soaked, so you're her warmth  \n\\\u003eIt's as though you can feel her heartbeat even through her broken armor, but it's getting weaker  \n\\\u003eYou can feel her grip slipping along with her vitality, and your own stamina is sapped away as you try to compensate for the added weight  \n\\\u003eEven the music quiets, and you lose your only guidance  \n\\\u003eNow your consciousness is waning, too  \n\\\u003eYou can't think or feel  \n\\\u003eAll your energy is spent just putting one foot before the other  \n\\\u003eYou were already blind from the rain, and now your eyelids have lost their will to hang on  \n\\\u003eA walking corpse, trying to stop another from passing on  \n\\\u003eYou might very well be facedown in the mud, and all your effort is in delirium  \n\\\u003eMisery and duress are what you want right now, because being comfortable means you have finally died  \n\\\u003eYou must have walked into the afterlife after all, because you don't hear or feel the rain anymore  \n\\\u003eNow you hear the twitter of birds and gentle splashing of water  \n\\\u003eYou're afraid to open your eyes, not quite ready for death  \n\\\u003eBut when you do, you also hear music  \n\\\u003eSoft and graceful, like a harp  \n\\\u003eIt's a glade, ethereal green and untouched by the storm  \n\\\u003eA shallow, stone-built pool rests in the center of the clearing with crystal-clear water  \n\\\u003eA small cabin sits behind it, elegantly carved from what looks like a single block of wood  \n\\\u003eSomething catches your eye up in the trees  \n\\\u003eOf all people…  \n\\\u003e…Him  \n\\\u003eThe bard sits reclined on a sturdy branch, seemingly oblivious to your plight  \n\\\u003eHe doesn't acknowledge you as you call out for him  \n\\\u003eA few small fires and wisps of light ignite by the pool  \n\\\u003eThe air feels balmy, like a bathhouse  \n\\\u003eSteam rises from the pool, and all you can think about is how good it must feel  \n\\\u003eHow good it will feel to Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou ease the wolfess into the pool, propping her head up against the stone rim  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't want to let go, but she doesn't have the strength to hold on to you  \n\\\u003eBlood exudes into the water, and you carefully peel away her armor  \n\\\u003eMiraculously, the clouds of red dissolve in the sparkling pool  \n\\\u003eHer wounds are still fresh and open, but it's as though the water is stanching the blood  \n\\\u003eEverything needs to come off, as she's better off naked than staying in sopping wet clothes  \n\\\u003eYou feel minor guilt for stripping her away her warrior-hood down to her natural-born fur  \n\\\u003eAnd on the other hand, it's impossible to feel even the slightest tug of arousal at her nude figure  \n\\\u003eYour concern for her overrides any distracting thoughts  \n\\\u003eSoon she's completely out of her equipment, with the pieces abandoned in the pool  \n\\\u003eThough your sleeves and slacks are just as drenched from both water and her blood  \n\\\u003eYou douse her gingerly, hoping to cleanse her fur yet fearing it might start falling out at any moment  \n\\\u003eAfter the last few days all you want to do is melt into the pool and enjoy the heat  \n\\\u003eBut you fight off the temptations  \n\\\u003eFaolre won't get better as she is right now, even with magical waters  \n\\\u003eYou need something to dry her off with, but you're afraid to leave the whimpering creature alone  \n\\\u003eA deer struts calmly over to you  \n\\\u003eOn its face is a familiar, bone-like mask  \n\\\u003eNot exactly like a mantis, but with a pointed head extending out where its deer snout would be  \n\\\u003eWhat looks like a saddle at first is really a stack of towels balanced on its back  \n\\\u003eIt would be an eerie coincidence if you weren't certain the gift was so timely and deliberate  \n\\\u003eOnce you remove the towels the deer takes off, as though realizing the fear a wild critter should have for an intruding human  \n\\\u003eYou do your best to dry Faolre once you pull her from the pool, soaking up as much moisture as you can while trying not to make her injuries even worse  \n\\\u003eThen you wrap her up and carry her into the cabin  \n\\\u003eArms and legs shaking violently from all your exertion  \n\\\u003eThe structure barely has enough space for a bed, a cabinet, some jugs, a cooking hearth, and a stool  \n\\\u003eYou lay her atop the cloths atop the bed, which is no bigger than wolfess sized  \n\\\u003eWithout the miracle water, her blood slowly oozes out  \n\\\u003eYou throw open the cabinet doors in a panic  \n\\\u003eYou knew what you wanted to see, but it still baffles you to have it right there  \n\\\u003eThe cabinet is stocked with various medicines, tools, and rations  \n\\\u003eNot full to bursting, but an ample inventory  \n\\\u003eNot enough remedies for an army, but enough for a one-woman Faolre army  \n\\\u003eNot enough food to last weeks, but enough for a recovering wolfess  \n\\\u003eThere's also not enough time to question this “good fortune\"  \n\\\u003eYou grab an armful of supplies  \n\\\u003eIt's all very similar to Father Frond's cleaning baskets  \n\\\u003eThere are several deep gashes and many smaller lacerations all over Faolre's body, crisscrossing with the scars she already has  \n\\\u003eThe technique of that first fateful day instantly returns to you  \n\\\u003eComb apart the fur  \n\\\u003eClean the wound  \n\\\u003eSterilize the wound  \n\\\u003eClose it up and move on to the next one  \n\\\u003eYou wonder if the sting of the salves is discomforting to her  \n\\\u003eEither she's fighting the pain, or she has no more feeling left  \n\\\u003eHer breathing is slow and sallow  \n\\\u003eYou beg her not to leave you  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't need to thank you  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't need to love you  \n\\\u003eShe just needs to pull through  \n\\\u003eWith the wolfess entirely bandaged, you sit beside her and wait  \n\\\u003eStroking her head and holding her paw  \n\\\u003eWhen you're confident the bandages aren't going to bleed through, you carefully remove the stained towels and toss a fresh blanket over her  \n\\\u003eThen it's back to comforting her  \n\\\u003eYou can't help yourself anymore  \n\\\u003eYou lean over and kiss the bridge of her nose, right between her eyes  \n\\\u003eShe exhales deeply  \n\\\u003eWhatever it takes, you need to save her  \n  \n\\\u003eIt's been a few hours now  \n\\\u003eThough the last few days have blurred into a single stretch of fear and fatigue  \n\\\u003eYou will only be able to rest once the threat on her life passes away first  \n\\\u003eFaolre's breathing eventually normalizes  \n\\\u003eShe's sound asleep now  \n\\\u003eYou don't want to leave her side, but your own clothes are damp and blood has ruined them  \n\\\u003eYou step out of your outfit, lightly garbed but not yet nude  \n\\\u003eUnfortunately, your mystery benefactor didn't supply anything clean to wear  \n\\\u003eWhat you're given instead is a bard who hasn't stopped playing since you arrived, even long after the sun has set  \n\\\u003eYou slink outside and try to find him, but he's no longer perched up in his tree  \n\\\u003eSo, where…?  \n\\\u003eOn the roof, it seems  \n\\\u003eStill unresponsive  \n\\\u003eStill an enigma  \n\\\u003eYou head inside to find something to pelt him with, but Faolre needs you first  \n\\\u003eShe's whining, as though trapped in a bad dream  \n\\\u003eYou place one hand on her forehead and the other just under her chin  \n\\\u003eYour mere touch calms her down  \n\\\u003eGuess you won't be leaving for a while  \n\\\u003eYou light the cooking pot in preparation for a late meal  \n\\\u003eIf nothing else, the heat should make the cabin a little cozier  \n\\\u003eYou're no culinary artisan, but a life on the road has made your skills with the knife passible  \n\\\u003eBut with what you have on hand it's going to have to be soup  \n\\\u003eThe foodstuff of the starving vagabond  \n\\\u003eOne of the larger jugs next to the cabinet has water in it  \n\\\u003eFresh water?  \n\\\u003eOf course it would be  \n\\\u003eThis entire place feels like it was prepared specifically for your arrival  \n\\\u003eIt's probably better than taking the pool stuff in any case, even if it is magical  \n\\\u003eBetween letting the water boil and letting the soup simmer, you have plenty of time to console Faolre some more  \n\\\u003eEvery stroke of her fur puts her at ease, while every pause causes her to tremble  \n\\\u003eWhen the soup cools, it's on you to feed her  \n\\\u003eWhatever it takes  \n\\\u003eSpoonful after spoonful you feed the wolfess; carefully, slowly  \n\\\u003eFaolre on the other hand is ravenous and sloppy  \n\\\u003eShe's like a suckling pup, eyes still shut and crying when you're not moving fast enough for her eager mouth  \n\\\u003eYou warn her to pace herself, and she seems to hear you  \n\\\u003eThere's barely any left by the time she stops eating  \n\\\u003eAlthough your hunger has greatly diminished while tending to the wolfess, you finish the remainder yourself  \n\\\u003eAll the while Lord Digre plays his music  \n\\\u003eNow the sun rises again, peeking into the glade  \n\\\u003eEach time you look out the window he's sitting in a new spot  \n\\\u003eYou want to go out and say something, yell at him, fight him  \n\\\u003eHis obliviousness is maddening  \n\\\u003eBut part of you thinks this is what he's planning  \n\\\u003eTo temper your anger and cultivate patience, both with him and with Faolre  \n\\\u003eAfter all, you can't go far from the cabin before you worry about leaving her alone  \n\\\u003eIt's heartbreaking to see a proud warrior like this, but…  \n\\\u003eMaybe the bard was right all along?  \n\\\u003eDid the wolfess need this kind of protection and attention for once in her violent life?  \n\\\u003eYou trace your finger along one of her closed, fully healed scars  \n\\\u003eYou wind up near the one created by the Death Spall  \n\\\u003eSurprisingly, it looks to be gradually healing like the others  \n\\\u003eHave you undone the damage caused by the deadly metal?  \n\\\u003eYou're not even a wolf, and you still shiver at the thought of it  \n\\\u003eHurcku must have been terrified himself to wield it  \n\\\u003eFaolre was right: he was a coward  \n\\\u003eNot from his fear of the Death Spall, but attempting to use the bane of wolves against one of his own  \n\\\u003eAnd yet, Faolre was ready to risk another brush with fatality just to strike him down  \n\\\u003eSo many past battles she must have had, you can't blame her for acting so cold and aggressive when you first met  \n\\\u003eThough it seems as if there's some closure with her final skirmish  \n\\\u003eThe runaways are dead, and you can only assume the treason from the tan wolf was orchestrated by the Blood Coterie  \n\\\u003eNot exactly a fulfilling closure, but Faolre's role in all this looks to be at its end  \n\\\u003eIf only you could play your own part in eradicating those black-hearted mercenaries for good…  \n\\\u003eFaolre's pained noises stifle those thoughts  \n\\\u003eNo more bloodshed, she seems to beg  \n\\\u003eNo more bloodshed  \n\\\u003eYou bury your nose in the fluff of her neck  \n\\\u003eNow clean, her fur only has the earthly scent of her wild heritage  \n\\\u003eIt's enthralling  \n\\\u003eYou can't imagine ever growing tired of it  \n\\\u003eOr her  \n\\\u003eOr even her snark and elusiveness  \n\\\u003eYou want to hold her tightly, but she needs to recover more first  \n\\\u003eYou fold your arms on the edge of her bed  \n\\\u003eThe morning has come and gone, and now the new day is just about ended  \n\\\u003eYou've done all you can for now  \n\\\u003eEven the bard's music slows with your breathing and heartbeat  \n\\\u003eIt's difficult to decide whether he's being helpful or a nuisance, but you can't deny it's reassuring to have someone watching over you watching over the wolfess  \n\\\u003eMaybe you can get some rest yourself, so that your selfless disregard for your own health won't be the end of you  \n\\\u003eYou plant one more kiss on the wolfess' snout  \n\\\u003eThere's the hint of a grin on her lips  \n\\\u003eGoodnight, Faolre  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 7: The Mantis]]**  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n\\\u003eIs it a magic touch, or have you just discovered a latent talent?  \n\\\u003eYou have always been a bit of a dabbler  \n\\\u003eA jack-of-all-trades  \n\\\u003eAcquiring skills of various fields at various degrees of mastery  \n\\\u003eIt's probably how you've lasted so long as a loner and a vagrant  \n\\\u003eAnd it's probably how you've managed to nurse a creature with deceptively similar yet wildly different biology back to health  \n\\\u003eBut you can't deny the possibility of some greater mysticism at work  \n\\\u003eYou've only met charlatans and the superstitious before, and neither turned out to be actually gifted in magical arts  \n\\\u003eThe first one who made you question your beliefs was the bard  \n\\\u003eLord Digre  \n\\\u003eProbably still out there somewhere ready to drive you insane with his incessant melodies  \n\\\u003eWhen you wake up you feel an odd weight on your back  \n\\\u003eFor one paranoid moment you think you're back on the muddy trails, carrying the wolfess and hallucinating her whole rescue  \n\\\u003eFaolre is indeed on you, but just her paw  \n\\\u003eSometime overnight she put her arm around you, keeping you close to her bed  \n\\\u003eYour panicked stirring wakes her up as well, and her eyes open groggily  \n\\\u003eShe removes her paw and looks at you in a daze  \n\\\u003e\"I suppose I have you to thank for winding up in a cramped, stiff bed.\"  \n\\\u003eHer words, as rough as they are, have an unmistakable trace of humor to them  \n\\\u003eShe's back  \n\\\u003eGrumpy as ever, but that's completely normal for her  \n\\\u003eYou desperately need to hug her  \n\\\u003eIs she strong enough now?  \n\\\u003eWill she even let you?  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess shifts herself back to elevate her head a bit  \n\\\u003e\"Go on.\"  \n\\\u003eYou throw yourself around her neck and tuck into her fur  \n\\\u003eNow her head's the weight on your back  \n\\\u003e\"Anon…\"  \n\\\u003eYou hear sniffing  \n\\\u003eIs she…?  \n\\\u003e\"You reek of dirt and sweat. Go clean yourself up before you ruin all your work in bathing me.\"  \n\\\u003eSo she remembers  \n\\\u003eBut how much of it?  \n\\\u003e\"Well? Go do what you must. You need the relief, I can tell.\"  \n\\\u003eYou'd think she would need to “relieve\" herself just as badly  \n\\\u003eFaolre chuckles  \n\\\u003e\"Again you insult me. I have organs of iron. I've spent days chasing or lying in wait for prey, with not a single morsel to eat or chance to stop and piss.\"  \n\\\u003eHer stomach rumbles fiercely  \n\\\u003e\"That's…not hunger. I have an acute sense for prey. There's something out there good for a meal. I can smell it.\"  \n\\\u003eShe fidgets a little, as though making an effort to get up but with none of the progress  \n\\\u003eYou sigh and tell her to remain in bed  \n\\\u003eShe pulls the covers up higher  \n\\\u003e\"I've recovered just fine, thank you. But if you insist I will wait here until after breakfast.\"  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n\\\u003eMorning life has been awake for a while now  \n\\\u003eBirds, buzzes, breezes…  \n\\\u003eBards  \n\\\u003eYes, he's at it already  \n\\\u003eSitting in the middle of the pool on an impossibly large lily pad  \n\\\u003eSomehow staying afloat as he slowly rotates and plays his lute  \n\\\u003eIt still has a puzzlingly harp-like tone  \n\\\u003e\"Here to take a dip?\"  \n\\\u003eThat's when you realize you're still wearing next to nothing  \n\\\u003eBut then you realize he finally broke his silence  \n\\\u003eAll that time hanging around with nothing to say, and his first words are a joke  \n\\\u003e\"It's simple, really,\" Digre replies. “I was not truly here. My songs carried an illusion that my corporeal form could not follow. I was here solely to supervise you, but it seems that was unnecessary.\"  \n\\\u003eHe lays the lute on his lap to give one hearty clap of the hands  \n\\\u003eThen he resumes playing  \n\\\u003eYou look back to the cabin, wondering if Faolre is hearing any of this  \n\\\u003eWhen you look back to the bard, you notice the masked deer from earlier lying next to the trees beyond the pool  \n\\\u003eDead  \n\\\u003eFreshly so  \n\\\u003e\"Regrettable,\" Digre says, “but it has been ages since I've hunted real game, and you shouldn't stray too far from…dear Faolre.\"  \n\\\u003eHe plays the last few notes from that tiresome song  \n\\\u003eThe deer has no signs of injury or unnatural death  \n\\\u003eThough there's a knife waiting for you next to its corpse  \n\\\u003e\"Prepare a meal for the girl. We can talk more after you're both satiated.\"  \n\\\u003eYou take what you need from the deer and return to the cabin with your venison  \n\\\u003eFaolre is salivating at the sight of the meat  \n\\\u003eShe's barking orders on how to properly cook it  \n\\\u003eDidn't take her long to find that commanding attitude again  \n\\\u003eStill, it's pleasant to hear her back to her old ways  \n\\\u003eShe gorges on the food, offering no complains to your effort  \n\\\u003eYou delay even digging into your own serving, just in case she needs extra  \n\\\u003eWhen her plate is empty, there's a sullen look on her face  \n\\\u003e\"I suppose by now you've figured out the truth, haven't you? Why I've acted the way I did, both now and in that wretched prison?\"  \n\\\u003eThis seems a little unprovoked  \n\\\u003eBut if Faolre needs to confess something, you want to lend her an ear  \n\\\u003eFaolre taps her claw on the plate rhythmically  \n\\\u003e\"Do you remember when I asked you why you've chosen the life of a mercenary?\"  \n\\\u003eDespite everything that's happened in the last few days, it's been too short of a time to forget something like that  \n\\\u003e\"Your motivations are likely more modest than mine. Everything I've done is in pursuit of a life of luxury. I…\"  \n\\\u003eShe looks to you with guilt, bracing for what she's about to admit  \n\\\u003eThe history of scars and wounds she has could justify anything, though  \n\\\u003e\"I want to be pampered. I want to be spoiled! I'm so, so weary of this barbaric life.\"  \n\\\u003eYou honestly thought Faolre relished her warrior lifestyle  \n\\\u003eShe certainly took offense to any slight you made against her pride  \n\\\u003eWas it all a facade?  \n\\\u003e\"As a pup, I was raised in a village very close to a human city. I suppose it's to blame for my tolerance of them, compared to most of my brethren. I loved their culture, and their lavish lords and ladies. I spent many nights reading books we traded from them so I could speak as they do.\"  \n\\\u003eYou can hear the cracking from the plate she's holding  \n\\\u003e\"But wolves are fighters, not well-bred nobles. Our elders live comfortable lives for their sunset years, yes, but nothing like you upper class humans.\"  \n\\\u003eThe plate finally snaps from the strain of her pressure  \n\\\u003e\"At the very least I wanted a life in the city with a mate and a family. And in my vainest fantasies I yearned to let my muscles fade under the heaviness of rich indulgences.\"  \n\\\u003eShe tries to force the halves of the plate back together, as though it will magically mend them  \n\\\u003e\"So to achieve my dreams I needed either money or a feat worthy of a hero to retire on. I accepted my role as a warrior, but I became…too good at it. Some males saw me as a brute, while the rest saw it as a challenge to 'break' me. All the while my gold went to my armor and my swords. I made no progress towards my goals. I had swords and bandages instead of fans and sweets.\"  \n\\\u003eAfter she's done fiddling with the plate, she casually tosses the pieces aside  \n\\\u003e\"That made me bitter, kindling my motivation to try harder. In turn, that only solidified my place as a savage. Someone worth nothing except to kill and intimidate. A vicious circle of anger and desire. I would rather spend my life in chains if it means being treated like a queen.\"  \n\\\u003e(“Did you ever stop to think I've already given her a taste of the life she actually wanted?\")  \n\\\u003eThe bard's words resurface uncomfortably  \n\\\u003e(“That her 'prison' was actually a form of wish fulfillment?\")  \n\\\u003eHe was right after all, and you played your part unwittingly  \n\\\u003e\"You must find me petty,\" Faolre says after some time.  \n\\\u003eNo  \n\\\u003eYou love the fighting spirit in her, but you also want to see her happy at long last  \n\\\u003eYou love her groomed fur, but also her scars of experience  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess' face scrunches up in what you believe is how she shows gratitude  \n\\\u003eYou embrace her again, with much less hesitancy  \n\\\u003e\"No gold could buy your companionship, Anon. I never want you to leave my side, no matter how I may show my feelings otherwise.\"  \n\\\u003eYou won't  \n\\\u003eThere's a rumble of content in Faolre's throat  \n\\\u003eHer chest swells against yours as she inhales, then draws out a long sigh  \n\\\u003e\"I would like to have a nice dress, if I can.\"  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n\\\u003eBy now most of Faolre's gear is dry  \n\\\u003eThough her armor is still in ruin, irreparably  \n\\\u003eShe instead chooses to remain without clothes while she freshens herself up outside  \n\\\u003e\"Modesty now would be pointless,\" she rumbles. “You've already seen everything I have to hide.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're quick to state your innocence  \n\\\u003eUndressing her was a necessity, and you weren't staring at her vulnerability  \n\\\u003e\"Hmph. What a waste. Who knows when another such opportunity will arise?\"  \n\\\u003eShe flicks her tail up and marches off to a river not far off  \n\\\u003eYou follow the steady crunch of her paws on the grass, until all outside noise silences  \n\\\u003e\"Pardon my sinfulness,\" the bard says. “I don't have the same reservations about voyeurism as you do.\"  \n\\\u003eOf course he would be right there the moment Faolre is out of sight  \n\\\u003eAnd out of sound, evidently  \n\\\u003e\"An encasing field of muteness. What I have to say might be safer without her overhearing.\"  \n\\\u003eDigre strums his lute, but even within the “encasing\" it sounds muffled  \n\\\u003e\"You seem to have an adequate memory. Do you remember YOUR question to me? About my mask?\"  \n\\\u003eIs he going to…?  \n\\\u003eThe bard reaches his hands up, one on his cowl and the other on his mask  \n\\\u003e\"'Ugliness of the flesh', or in my case…\"  \n\\\u003eIce courses through your veins  \n\\\u003eLord Digre  \n\\\u003eA bard  \n\\\u003eA wolf  \n\\\u003eBut a broken, mutilated one  \n\\\u003eWhat little fur he has left is slate gray and unkempt  \n\\\u003eOne eye is completely gone while the other is half closed  \n\\\u003eThe same can be said for his ears  \n\\\u003eThe most disturbing of all, his muzzle is crooked and half the length of Faolre's, either from being smashed into his face or sliced off completely, and there is no black nose on the end of his snout  \n\\\u003eHe still manages to give a hearty smile, showing several missing teeth  \n\\\u003e\"Much better with the mask, hmm?\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard sure has a way of giving you multiple questions to ask, yet no clear one to start with  \n\\\u003e\"I suppose since we're sharing histories, you'd like to hear another?\"  \n\\\u003eHe doesn't wait for an answer  \n\\\u003e\"It starts out all too familiar: a wolf loving a human. The girl loved the wilderness, which is where she met yours truly. Alas, the world didn't love us in return; or perhaps only a few of its inhabitants didn't, but that's all it takes to draw forth tragedy.\"  \n\\\u003eDigre kicks up his cloak with a flourish  \n\\\u003eHis cloak of black feathers  \n\\\u003e\"Spall Ravens. Nasty blights, aren't they? Seems there's a concoction out there that can lure them out. Foolish Hurcku knows this well. When they come, they do so with indiscriminate voracity. That poor, poor girl…\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard's lone ear droops  \n\\\u003eHe rubs his mask in suffering  \n\\\u003e\"The mantis is an interesting creature, don't you think? Cannibalizing her partner after copulation…the idea is both fascinating and horrifying. Why devour something you wish to mate with? I suppose now I know the answer to that all too well.\"  \n\\\u003eYou don't like where this is going  \n\\\u003eThe bard laughs in a way that definitely wouldn't ease your mind if it were anyone else  \n\\\u003e\"Symbolically, of course! I wanted to die next to the bloodied remains of my love, but I knew her too well to know she would not forgive me had I given up on my own life. I had to swallow my anguish and gnash at the gruesome images I left behind, and cannibalize her love and aspirations just so I could live on for the both of us. And...let's just say I didn't know magic like she did until she slipped from my callused paws.\"  \n\\\u003eA dewdrop escapes from his one good eye  \n\\\u003e\"Do you know who else denied me my death that day?\"  \n\\\u003eWho else could you think of?  \n\\\u003eFather Frond?  \n\\\u003e\"Very good guess! You're wrong, but it was a meaningful effort. No, it was our close friend Captain Brackard who chose to save me, rather than leave me be and mourn his sister's passing.\"  \n\\\u003e…Come again?  \n\\\u003eWhat ELSE can this wolf say at this point?  \n\\\u003e\"To this day I have no idea what compelled him to do it, or if his hatred of wolves came before or after me. Maybe he keeps me close out of dedication to his sister's wishes, or as a punishment out of loathing? These are stories far too long for the time I have allotted for now. I just want you to have a glimpse at what matters most between the two of us.\"  \n\\\u003eHe takes a few steps closer to you  \n\\\u003eYou can see just how deep the scars run along his furless patches  \n\\\u003eThey're like fissures in a desolate landscape  \n\\\u003e\"Anon, dear Faolre needs your comfort more than ever before. I tried to give her as much as I could, but I still had a duty to the people of Thistlecrik to protect them. Do I let a stranger tainted with rage from the Death Spall into my town so freely just to save one of 'my own kind'?\"  \n\\\u003eWell, what duty is he on by being way out here?  \n\\\u003eOnce again, he only laughs  \n\\\u003e\"You are quite right! I do worry them a little too much, don't I? I assume most of them don't even know what I am under the mask.\"  \n\\\u003eThat's something else you now want to ask, but the bard holds his paw up as though preemptively dismissing your question  \n\\\u003e\"I hope to one day make those people more self-reliant. They come to Thistlecrik in need of support, like you and the girl. And when they're all saved, I can finally work on myself.\"  \n\\\u003eThe dewdrop turns into a steady stream  \n\\\u003e\"I know what Faolre wants, because I wanted the same thing: someone to tend to your wounds when your heart is on its last strings. Please, don't ever stop being there for her, Anon. It's a horrible feeling, to be so broken physically and on a bed of grief. I wish everyone loved music as much as my soul mate did. It's so much easier to heal others with.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard dons his mantis-skull disguise  \n\\\u003eFrom out of the trees steps another masked deer  \n\\\u003eIt regards the corpse of its own kind with fleeting interest before approaching  \n\\\u003eOn its back are weapons  \n\\\u003eBoth of yours  \n\\\u003eAnd both of hers  \n\\\u003eAlong with your mended clothes and armor  \n\\\u003e\"I want to let these tasteless instruments lie in ruin, but that would be depriving the two of you from a way to protect yourselves from this awful, beautiful world. But, promise me you will do all you can to stop Faolre from needing them, please.\"  \n\\\u003eYou nod  \n\\\u003e\"Many thanks. Remember, Anon, you are always welcome in Thistlecrik. I'm sure you will be better received the next time you visit.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard twirls around ridiculously, flapping his cloak  \n\\\u003eYou can hear the crunching of grass once again  \n\\\u003eFaolre walks up behind you, fur damp  \n\\\u003e\"There are no towels by the river bank,\" she growls. \"How will I dry the fur you love so much?\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard is gone when you turn around again  \n\\\u003eNow you're alone with a wolfess newly liberated from her guilt  \n\\\u003eShe brushes up against you, carrying the wetness over to your skin  \n\\\u003eYou inhale sharply as you feel the flesh of her breasts against your bare back  \n\\\u003eYou remind her she's still injured, and that her bandages are beginning to unravel  \n\\\u003eShe bears her weight on you  \n\\\u003e\"Hmph. You're the expert. Fine, PLEASE take me back inside and to my bed.\"  \n\\\u003eShe plods behind while you guide the wolfess back to the cabin  \n\\\u003eYou sigh, lighthearted  \n\\\u003ePerhaps Faolre is going to take advantage of your goodwill now after confessing her secret?  \n\\\u003eWell, of course not  \n\\\u003eThat would mean her asking something of you that you weren't already planning on giving  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 8: Captain Brackard]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eYou spend one more night at the healing glade  \n\\\u003eFaolre is already recovered as fully as she can be, though you still rewrap her bandages to be sure  \n\\\u003eYou sit beside the bed with your head reclined against it when it's time to sleep  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess doesn't say anything when you take your position, though she stares at you intently  \n\\\u003eWhen her eyes start to droop, she keeps her gaze steady  \n\\\u003eAny sudden movement from you causes her eyes to shoot open again  \n\\\u003eYou have to wait until you hear her rolling snores before you can even scratch your nose  \n\\\u003eIt's not the most comfortable way to sleep, but it's bearable with Faolre safely nearby  \n\\\u003eEven your dreams are calmer because of it  \n\\\u003eAnd when you wake up, you can feel the warm air of her snout on the back of your neck  \n\\\u003e\"Breakfast?\" she says  \n\\\u003eIt's not a command, or anywhere as verbose as she usually speaks  \n\\\u003eJust an innocent question with no guarantee she'll get what she wants  \n\\\u003eBut how could you refuse that beautiful, scarred face?  \n\\\u003eYou take a fair amount of what's left from the cabinet's supplies  \n\\\u003eYou aren't completely out of food yet, but it's as though the cabin itself is letting you know it'll soon be time to depart  \n\\\u003eProbably for the best  \n\\\u003eWhile the glade is a magical place, you can see how someone could go stir-crazy from being confined to it for a long time  \n\\\u003eYou gear up casually, while Faolre looks detached  \n\\\u003eShe's regarding her armor like it's the burden someone much weaker than her would see it as  \n\\\u003eDisinterest in something that would normally bring you pleasure  \n\\\u003eLike wearing your favorite coat at the wrong time of the year  \n\\\u003eBut when she finally puts it on, you see some poise in her expression  \n\\\u003eAfter all, you said you loved Faolre for the warrior in her, and she now accepts it  \n\\\u003eAs the two of you leave the glade, she openly talks about some of the fantasies she would have with a queenly estate  \n\\\u003eSurprisingly, what you would expect to be all glamor and frills after her confession actually has some of that hardy spirit you know so well  \n\\\u003e\"A sparring arena would be nice,\" she muses. “Decorated with trophies and armaments from all across the world. Our seats would be up high to spectate all of it, with steps down the center for the times I would join in the fray.\"  \n\\\u003eWait, “our\" seats?  \n\\\u003eFaolre gives you a stern look  \n\\\u003e\"Of course. 'Our'. Did you think there isn't enough room in my visions for you? My closest companion?\"  \n\\\u003eIt's thrilling to be a part of them, though you assumed her dearest wishes were for her alone  \n\\\u003eHave you really made that much of an impact on her life, in such a short time?  \n\\\u003eShe confirms your suspicions with a meaningful grunt  \n\\\u003e\"I may have been looking at my life from the wrong vantage point. What good are all the luxuries of the world if I abandon who I am to achieve them? Servants who feed a queen with no character may as well be feeding a sow.\"  \n\\\u003eSo would it be better to have character or your wishes, if you had to choose one?  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't have an answer for that  \n\\\u003eYou try a different question  \n\\\u003eSuch as where the two of you have been wandering toward for the last hour  \n\\\u003e\"Gulesden, I suppose,\" Faolre sighs. “If nothing else I should let them know what became of Hurcku.\"  \n\\\u003eIs it even worth telling someone when he tried to kill the two of you?  \n\\\u003eWho would mourn a traitor?  \n\\\u003e\"Wolves don't suffer treason, but we also want to know how one of our own is taken from us. Elements, beasts, war…doesn't matter the cause. Knowing the dangers of the world helps the rest of the pack survive them.\"  \n\\\u003eBut what defense do they have against Spall Ravens?  \n\\\u003eAt least twice now the deadly birds have preyed on wolves  \n\\\u003eDrawn to them by some sort of “lure\"  \n\\\u003eAgain, no response from Faolre  \n\\\u003eOr, what about the Death Spall, the bane of wolves?  \n\\\u003e\"It is said,\" she begins, “that those who manage to live through the Death Spall's lethal edge come out stronger. Few wolves dare attempt to see if the stories are true, but those who have survived through it all claim they are more powerful because of it.\"  \n\\\u003eDoes she believe she is stronger now?  \n\\\u003e\"Absolutely, but it's not because of a brush with death, no. I feel stronger because I have an indispensible ally with me, Anon.\"  \n\\\u003eThe fur of her nose rumples up  \n\\\u003eIt almost pains her more to show such sentimentality than any blade's sting  \n\\\u003eYou place your arm around the wolfess' waist  \n\\\u003eYou're met with a warning growl  \n\\\u003e\"Unless you're back there to polish my armor, keep your hands to yourself.\"  \n\\\u003eFully recovered indeed  \n  \n\\\u003eFaolre's ears perk at the distant commotion in Gulesden  \n\\\u003eYou were hoping to finally have time to take in the wolf village properly now that you're not chasing down a traitor, but it seems as though the village isn't quite ready for peace  \n\\\u003eThe wavering streams of smoke from hearths and bonfires in the wolves' home are joined by the fabric of large banners  \n\\\u003eEach one is emblazoned with the flaming swan insignia of the Duchess  \n\\\u003eSomeone you have always wanted to meet, but at the same time avoid at all costs  \n\\\u003eIf there's one thing human nobles don't suffer, it's the transgressions of mercenaries  \n\\\u003eYou exist in these lands not because you're allowed to, but because you're too insignificant to be rooted out yet  \n\\\u003eWhatever drew the duchess' soldiers to Gulesden must be significant  \n\\\u003eWhen you approach a mass of wolves and humans in the center of the village, you realize the barking you hear isn't from the locals  \n\\\u003eIt's from Captain Brackard  \n\\\u003eHe's arguing with an elder wolf who is every bit as grizzled and ornery as him  \n\\\u003eA wolfish copy of the captain, you could say  \n\\\u003eThe commotion lessens when both sides see you and Faolre confront them, joined at the shoulder  \n\\\u003eAre they moved by your companionship, or disgusted by it?  \n\\\u003eBrackard almost looks pleased to see you  \n\\\u003e\"Finally, the honorless sellsword can be put to use.\"  \n\\\u003eOne of the captain's men unfurls a poster  \n\\\u003eHeavily inked on the parchment is a drawing of a vicious looking wolf, covered in bone armor and dripping what you assume is blood from his fangs  \n\\\u003e[SCRIMSHAW]  \n\\\u003e[AMPLE REWARD FOR HIS HEAD, FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE DUCHY]  \n\\\u003eThere's only one notable member of the infamous band of mercenaries, and that's their supposed leader, Scrimshaw  \n\\\u003eIt seems few have ever actually seen him in person (thanks to the Blood Coterie's tendency to spare no survivors), but his name is attached to just about every major act the group performs  \n\\\u003eIt's no surprise to you that an organization made up of both humans AND wolves would be led by the latter  \n\\\u003eThis is Brackard's line of thinking as well  \n\\\u003e\"The Duchess is weary of this cur running amok in our lands.\"  \n\\\u003eHis “pleasurable\" demeanor toward you reverts to its usual bitterness  \n\\\u003e\"Watch who you fraternize with, sellsword. These dogs could be harboring the killer in their homes, and Her Elegance will NOT stand for defectors of the crest.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Your Duchess is no ruler of ours, furless barbarians!\" the elder wolf snaps. “You expect us to cooperate with YOU all while looking at us the same as you would such an indiscriminate murderer!\"  \n\\\u003e\"ENOUGH!\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre's yell silences the whole village  \n\\\u003eThere's hushed murmuring about her bandaged state, but nobody wants to disturb her about it yet  \n\\\u003e\"What a pathetic sight,\" she growls, “to see 'civilized' people at the throats of one another, while the Blood Coterie managed to put aside their differences for their vile ways! You're doing half their job with this arrogant squabbling! \"  \n\\\u003eIt's a truth neither of the two forces wants to hear, but there's little they can do to refute it  \n\\\u003eWhen mercenaries form better alliances than kings and chiefs, then war is inevitable  \n\\\u003eBrackard's pride is too sore to speak up, so it's on the elder wolf to make the first move  \n\\\u003e\"Our Faolre is right. The wars should have ended, but here we are now with loathsome scoundrels trying to reopen fresh wounds.\"  \n\\\u003eTensions between the leaders are high, but Brackard and the elder wolf are herded into the gathering hall by their respective people, who have been moved by your wolfess' words  \n\\\u003eEveryone is seated, except for a few wolves trying to diffuse the room with food and drinks  \n\\\u003eLeaning over Brackard to hand him a mug is the sultry wolfess who tried to steal you away from Faolre on your first visit  \n\\\u003e\"If there's anything else, please do let me know,\" she whispers into his ear  \n\\\u003e\"H-hmm? Oh, fine. Very well.\"  \n\\\u003eThe captain clears his throat, then downs his drink  \n\\\u003eThere's interest from the wolves as to what Faolre and you have been up to since your initial arrival  \n\\\u003eYou explain as much as you need to while omitting anything that could incriminate or embarrass either side  \n\\\u003eLike Faolre's imprisonment  \n\\\u003eOr your intimacy in the glade  \n\\\u003eInstead, you tell them of the mercenaries' hideout near Gulesden  \n\\\u003eOf Hurcku's disappearance along with two human soldiers, and how they seemed to know each other before the tan wolf betrayed them  \n\\\u003eOf the attack on Faolre with the Death Spall on the battlefield and the later attempt on her life by Hurcku  \n\\\u003eAnd of his part in drawing out the Spall Ravens, leading to his own demise  \n\\\u003eYou can see Brackard piecing the story together in his mind, though the wolves are a step ahead of him  \n\\\u003e\"So,\" the elder wolf muses, “the Coterie has been trying to create a schism during a time of recovering, even using witchcraft to stir up the Spall Ravens. No doubt done to harness the creatures' ferocity.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Or keep themselves employed by offering to slay the beasts themselves,\" Brackard eventually adds in  \n\\\u003eThe captain is so concerned with trying to offer his own theories that he's oblivious to the sultry wolfess leaning on his shoulders  \n\\\u003eThere's stillness in the gathering hall as everyone processes the situation  \n\\\u003e\"Unification is needed, that much is certain,\" the elder wolf says. “We will have to arrange an assault on the Blood Coterie.\"  \n\\\u003eHe gives a terrifying look to everyone in the gathering hall.  \n\\\u003e\"…And pray that there are no more traitors among us.\"  \n\\\u003eIf there were, they probably aren't one anymore  \n\\\u003eThe two races reconvene after the meeting ends  \n\\\u003eYou don't want to be apart from Faolre, but her people want to make sure her injuries didn't come from humans  \n\\\u003eDidn't come from YOU  \n\\\u003eSo you wait for her return with the decorated soldiers of the Duchess  \n\\\u003eWhen you speak with Captain Brackard, he gives you a cold expression  \n\\\u003eYou must have given him a look with far less contempt than he expected, because he takes your silence as some sort of pity  \n\\\u003e\"So…Digre told you, didn't he?\"  \n\\\u003eYou almost wish the bard hadn't, given the captain's tone  \n\\\u003eBrackard fumes, but it's a simmering anger from a man who knows he can't act on it  \n\\\u003e\"If his muzzle weren't so hideous already, I'd smash it in myself. Half the reason I'm even here is to drag his miserable hide back to his own town yet again.\"  \n\\\u003eWhy does he serve his “lord\" then?  \n\\\u003e\"Don't be a fool. My loyalty to the Duchy first, then the people of Thistecrik. But they give him their admiration first, so I have to follow his childish behavior. The town is mine, but its people are his. I do what's best for them, so I bite my tongue and confer to his judgments.\"  \n\\\u003eBrackard scowls through gritted teeth  \n\\\u003eFaolre returns, staring down the captain  \n\\\u003e\"Speaking of followers and our esteemed lord, I've been asked to return you both to Thistlecrik with me. He has been insufferable in his requests to make amends, even though he's undoubtedly made contact with you himself since then.\"  \n\\\u003eThe captain knows his lord well  \n  \n\\\u003eFaolre's kin are disappointed to see her leave  \n\\\u003eThey're happy to see the captain leave  \n\\\u003eThe sultry wolfess is crushed to see him leave  \n\\\u003eYour party sets off for the town that brought you all together for the first time  \n\\\u003eIt's a long, speechless journey, though your mind swarms with recollections of the past few nights  \n\\\u003eThe bard didn't seem to want to include Faolre in his chat with you, but you feel the need to tell her about him  \n\\\u003eYou ask Faolre about Digre with a hushed tone as the two of you pull back from the group a bit  \n\\\u003eDoes she know what he is?  \n\\\u003e\"Wasn't it obvious? Didn't the wolfish names give it away to you? DigRE? FaolRE?\"  \n\\\u003eWell, that's a bit unfair to assume…  \n\\\u003e\"Hmph.\"  \n\\\u003eBrackard not so inconspicuously listens in on the conversation, but the other soldiers appear to be unaware of what's being said  \n\\\u003e\"I suppose I can't blame you,\" Faolre continues. “He fooled me at first, too. Masked his natural scent as well as his face, but he revealed the latter to me shortly after I was brought to his town.\"  \n\\\u003eDo the rest of the wolves know?  \n\\\u003e\"Not likely. Digre isn't too uncommon of a wolf name, and when he supposedly 'died' along with his lover years ago nobody had reason to believe he and the humans' lord were the same. He won't receive warm reception from them, though, if my kin learns where his loyalties lie.\"  \n\\\u003e(“I tried to give her as much as I could, but I still had a duty to the people of Thistlecrik.\")  \n\\\u003eThe bard's words worm into your ears just as invasively as his music  \n\\\u003e(“Do I let a stranger tainted with rage from the Death Spall into my town so freely just to save one of 'my own kind'?\")  \n\\\u003eYou can tell Faolre herself doesn't hold a grudge against Digre  \n\\\u003eWell, not anymore, at least  \n\\\u003eBut there's underlying resentment between the two races, and would the wolves take any excuse to resume fighting with the humans?  \n\\\u003eThere's a gloom over the travelling party  \n\\\u003eEveryone shares relief when the walls of Thistlecrik are finally in sight  \n\\\u003eYou imagine the first stop would be Lord Digre's estate, but Brackard pulls you to his own modest home  \n\\\u003e\"You wait outside,\" he says to Faolre  \n\\\u003eShe snarls at him, but obeys  \n\\\u003ePartly out of concern for your well-being, and partly for her disinterest in setting foot into such a hateful man's domain  \n\\\u003eBrackard's home is plain and relatively unkempt  \n\\\u003eHe obviously spends more time out on patrol than doing any meaningful housekeeping  \n\\\u003eThe only object in immaculate condition is a picture of a young, joyful woman  \n\\\u003eHis sister, no question  \n\\\u003eBrackard is transfixed on the picture for some time, then reaches into a drawer below it  \n\\\u003eHe removes an ornate wooden box and thrusts it to you  \n\\\u003e\"Digre's intended gift to her, before her life was taken. He wanted me to have it in her honor, but damned if I'm going to keep such a tragic memento in my house any longer.\"  \n\\\u003eYou open the lid to find an ornate gorget; metal scales and inlaid with gemstones  \n\\\u003eOrnamental as much as it could be a stalwart piece of armor  \n\\\u003eAround the collar edge is an inscription  \n\\\u003e[The bond of wolf and man, indivisible]  \n\\\u003e[The challenges they face, inevitable]  \n\\\u003e[The love they share, insurmountable]  \n\\\u003eEven with Faolre's plush neck, the gorget seems like it would fit  \n\\\u003eQuite well, actually  \n\\\u003e\"With any luck, her fur will cover that buffoon's poetic drivel.\"  \n\\\u003eIt's difficult to imagine you thanking Brackard for anything, but for all you know he's already accepted your gratitude in his own mind  \n\\\u003eYou leave the captain to mourn his sister, joining up with Faolre once again  \n\\\u003e\"Did he give you his dignity?\" the wolfess huffs. “No, the box is much too large for that.\"  \n\\\u003eHer brow nonetheless rises with interest  \n\\\u003e\"So, what DID he give you?\"  \n\\\u003eYou tuck the box under your arm, teasing her with a sly grin  \n\\\u003eYou can see the curiosity escalating in her eyes  \n\\\u003eMaybe when the time is right  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 9: Spall Ravens]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eLord Digre's estate  \n\\\u003eWhen you left Thistlecrik you thought that would be the last you would see of its people  \n\\\u003eNot even a month later and you've already met with the broken wolf and Captain Brackard yet again  \n\\\u003eAnd now you're back where it all started  \n\\\u003eBut unlike last time, you're not here to recover Faolre's weapons or confront the mysterious bard  \n\\\u003eYou have the wolfess at your side, and you're frankly not sure why you've come  \n\\\u003eBrackard implied that Digre wanted to see the two of you again, but what could he want that he couldn't have said or done at the glade?  \n\\\u003eThe inn still has a room available as a courtesy for you and the wolfess  \n\\\u003eSharing, of course  \n\\\u003eYou drop off the boxed gorget, as carrying such a painful reminder of Digre's lost love might be too insulting to hold in front of him  \n\\\u003eIt's the lost love you realize must be in the incredibly faded painting above the parlor doors when you enter the lord's estate  \n\\\u003eIf the town did indeed belong to Brackard originally, then was it him or the wolf who hung the painting?  \n\\\u003eWas it a joint effort? One of the few things they've seen eye-to-eye on after their shared tragedy?  \n\\\u003e\"Is she beautiful?\" Faolre asks  \n\\\u003eYou're startled a bit by the wolfess' sudden remark  \n\\\u003eThen confused  \n\\\u003e\"By your human standards, is she beautiful?\" Faolre clarifies. “Is she worth what Digre had to suffer through?\"  \n\\\u003eYou could never hope to be the poet the bard is  \n\\\u003eBut “beauty\" isn't something you can decide for someone else  \n\\\u003eAfter all, your own heart has been taken by a fierce warrior with enough battle scars for an entire army  \n\\\u003eOnly Digre himself could answer a question like that  \n\\\u003eAll you know is that nobody should have to suffer the way he did  \n\\\u003eYou find the bard right in front of the fireplace, just as you left him  \n\\\u003e\"Anon. Dear Faolre.\"  \n\\\u003eHe continues to mask himself, even in the presence of the only few who know his secret  \n\\\u003eAs he'd probably say: \"Ugliness of facing reality\"  \n\\\u003eStaring at the mantis-skull mask would be unnerving if you didn't pity the wolf  \n\\\u003eAnd yet he maintains a cheery tone  \n\\\u003eTHAT is what unnerves you  \n\\\u003e\"It's so good to see the two of you together; healthy and strong. Out of us three, I am perhaps the weakest one.\"  \n\\\u003eYou've seen his magic, and you would argue otherwise  \n\\\u003e\"It is this weakness that forces me to ask something of you. However, it is just as much for your sake as it is mine.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre grunts  \n\\\u003e\"Why the pretense, Digre? Anon and I both know what you're capable of.\"  \n\\\u003eThis humors the bard  \n\\\u003e\"I should be insulted; has all my mystery been depleted? But, I haven't been entirely fair to either of you, so I can see why you'd say as much. In the end, I can confidently say I still hold a few surprises.\"  \n\\\u003eHis arm shifts under his feathered cloak  \n\\\u003e\"They're not all pleasurable or welcoming, but they are surprises nonetheless. For instance, do either of you know who my dear love was? Or who took her from me?\"  \n\\\u003eThe latter is obvious, after all you've discovered  \n\\\u003eDigre told you it was the Spall Ravens, but it has to be the Blood Coterie who drew them out to sic on the lovers  \n\\\u003eIf you could see the wolf's face, he'd be smiling  \n\\\u003e\"Correct. Who else could it be? Not all riddles must be so difficult to solve. Now then, what would their motivation be?\"  \n\\\u003eThat's something you're not certain of yet  \n\\\u003eJealousy of their love?  \n\\\u003ePrejudice of their bond?  \n\\\u003e\"You're overthinking it, Anon,\" the bard chides. “They seek riches and power. What is the emblem of the Blood Coterie?\"  \n\\\u003eThe emblem?  \n\\\u003eWell, it's their insignia…  \n\\\u003e…Stamped onto a stolen crest of a royal family…  \n\\\u003eDigre hurls an object onto the floor  \n\\\u003eIt clanks loudly and lands before you and Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou can see the symbol of the Coterie as the crest bounces, but when it settles there's the warped image of a flaming swan  \n\\\u003eThe crest of the Duchess' family  \n\\\u003e\"Taken from the possession of a lowly grunt who no longer walks this world with us, who himself had taken it from the gullet of the very Raven that slaughtered my beloved.\"  \n\\\u003eDigre is a man whose every action is deliberate  \n\\\u003eSo when his whole body shakes, is it a warning gesture or a rare emotion that's totally out of his control?  \n\\\u003e\"It disgusts me enough that those cowards took possession of her family's sacred crest, but to give it to a low-ranking bastard whose life would soon be snuffed out anyway? Now THAT's insulting….\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard goes still  \n\\\u003e\"Which brings us all here at this moment. I wish to see the destruction of the Blood Coterie just as much as the Duchess, for very similar reasons. However, there is something we must deal with first. My music compensates for what my frail body cannot do. You may see me as powerful, and I thank you, but against a foe just as eldritch and cruel? No, we need healthy, strong heroes.\"  \n\\\u003eWhat kind of foe is he talking about?  \n\\\u003eFaolre looks ready for whatever it may be  \n\\\u003eThough she still has her own reservations  \n\\\u003e\"If it's not the Blood Coterie themselves, then what?\"  \n\\\u003eThe fire behind the bard goes out  \n\\\u003e\"Valravn.\"  \n\\\u003eThe brevity of the name makes you think it should be as disturbing to you as it is to Digre  \n\\\u003eBut you and Faolre are left befuddled  \n\\\u003e\"One of our own,\" Digre says, regarding Faolre with a nod, “Or she used to be. The healing glade you both know well has a sister: a bog where witchcraft is born. Nestled inside is the sham of a wolf who takes a disquieting interest in Spall Ravens. If the Coterie is able to control them, she may know why. She may BE why.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard gives you both a look as though expecting you to understand your mission now  \n\\\u003eHe returns to the fireplace, hunched over the dying embers  \n\\\u003eFaolre gives you a nod and proceeds to leave the parlor  \n\\\u003eYou still don't fully comprehend why Digre can't join you on this task  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess doesn't have this problem  \n\\\u003eMaybe she understands what you don't; a wolfish instinct  \n\\\u003eOr maybe she sees the bard as something that's already dead and not worth taking along  \n\\\u003eIf he's not coming with you, you at least hope he's watching over you  \n\\\u003eWatching over her  \n  \n\\\u003eThe fetid bog is the polar opposite of the healing glade  \n\\\u003eWhere the glade has the sights and sounds of wildlife, the bog is filled with the husks of long-dead creatures  \n\\\u003eEvery surface is comfortable in the glade, while the bog is both dehydrating and damp at the same time  \n\\\u003eHarmonizing with the glade is a wooden cabin, cozy and inviting  \n\\\u003eThe bog, instead, has the rotten hut of a giant, decaying tree  \n\\\u003eThere are more bones than blades of grass surrounding the hut; the ominous welcome of its inhabitant  \n\\\u003eMixed in are shell fragments from eggs far too large for any bird you've encountered  \n\\\u003eWell, except for one  \n\\\u003eFaolre's fur bristles  \n\\\u003eIt's the first potential threat she's had to face since the Spall Ravens, and you fear she may have been traumatized  \n\\\u003e\"Such repugnance. I will need my coat washed after this is all done.\"  \n\\\u003eNo, with that confident smirk you know Faolre hasn't lost a scrap of her boldness  \n\\\u003eTogether you enter the hut  \n\\\u003eThere's a quivering mass of black feathers kneeling before a cauldron  \n\\\u003eFor a brief moment you think of the bard and his own mantle  \n\\\u003eBut she isn't wearing one as a token of a slain adversary  \n\\\u003eShe's wearing it like it were a blanket of love  \n\\\u003eHer head snaps around to greet you and Faolre  \n\\\u003eIt's not a bone mask like the bard's, but an entire skull head of a Raven  \n\\\u003eSockets where eyes would be  \n\\\u003eValravn  \n\\\u003e\"Visitors?\" she squawks. “So good to make your ac-c-cquaintance.\"  \n\\\u003eThe rest of her wolfish body is emaciated, almost to the point of being just a skeleton with ragged fur hanging off it  \n\\\u003eShe hobbles forward with a hunched back  \n\\\u003eFaolre threatens her with an aggressive stance, and the crone skitters back  \n\\\u003e\"No need for such hostility!\" Valravn says. “It's not nice to barge into an old woman's c-c-comfortable home like brutes!\"  \n\\\u003e\"You adorn yourself and your 'home' with fetishes of horrible monsters,\" Faolre growls. “What connection do you have with the Spall Ravens?\"  \n\\\u003eValravn cocks her head  \n\\\u003e\"Hmm? My dearies? Why, isn't it in a wolf's interests to study the dangers of our world?\"  \n\\\u003eThat's what Faolre had said  \n\\\u003eBut she doesn't accept that as an answer  \n\\\u003e\"You're no wolf. Not anymore. Not since whatever pack you came from banished you for your obsession.\"  \n\\\u003eThe crone definitely looks more bird than wolf  \n\\\u003eAnd yet, she seems cross about the insult  \n\\\u003e\"Wolves will die with their old ways,\" Valravn says. “Same as humans. This is why the Blood C-C-Coterie are smart. THEY appreciate what my dearies c-c-can offer, and will live on bec-c-cause of it. I have raised the little ones to follow their new masters; such servitude is a small price to pay to see my children flourish.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Where are they hiding?\" Faolre barks  \n\\\u003eThe crone ignores her  \n\\\u003eInstead she turns her back to you, fiddling with something out of sight  \n\\\u003e\"My sweet darlings will live on forever bec-c-cause of me. They'd eventually die without my love and c-c-care. Now, where is that lure? I do believe it's mealtime.…\"  \n\\\u003eShe whips around and flings a lumpy sphere at the two of you  \n\\\u003eIt's the same as Hurcku's trap  \n\\\u003eYou and the wolfess are ensnared with unrelenting grime  \n\\\u003eOne of Faolre's swords is bound to her paw, which the other was wrenched away to leave her unarmed  \n\\\u003eShe fruitlessly claws at the thick cords all around her  \n\\\u003e\"I always send my pets away to their new home with a little snack-k-k. They will eat ANYTHING, but that doesn't mean I don't c-c-cut their food up into little morsels.\"  \n\\\u003eThe crone draws a gnarled dagger from her cloak  \n\\\u003eThe Death Spall  \n\\\u003eHer hand shakes just holding the lethal metal, yet she cackles because of it  \n\\\u003e\"My aim isn't as steady as it used to be, but it makes for some interesting slices of meat.\"  \n\\\u003eThe dagger isn't even turned to you and you can feel the dread  \n\\\u003eYou need to do something  \n\\\u003eYou need to…try something  \n\\\u003eHumming  \n\\\u003eSinging  \n\\\u003eYou pray Digre is with you  \n\\\u003e{~Beldam wolf with raven-like maw~}  \n\\\u003e{~Thwarted by her hazardous Spall~}  \n\\\u003e{~Her witchcraft snaps just like her bone~}  \n\\\u003e{~Save the wolfess, the dear Faolre~}  \n\\\u003eYou inhale as the blade is thrust at Faolre  \n\\\u003eIt happens to fast you don't even have time to shut your eyes  \n\\\u003eThe dagger is parried by the wolfess' armor, and then she grabs it by the flat of the blade with her one free paw  \n\\\u003eHolding the venomous metal as though it were mere wood  \n\\\u003eShe flips the grip around and plunges the tip into the crone's eye socket  \n\\\u003eValravn shrieks in agony, stumbling around her hut  \n\\\u003eThe grime slips away at your words  \n\\\u003eOr maybe your guardian's music  \n\\\u003eYou pick up your crossbow and fire a shot at Valravn as she dashes outside  \n\\\u003eThe bolt sends her toppling over, but the real damage is done to her pouches of spell regents  \n\\\u003eA substance you recall from the corpse of Hurcku spills out  \n\\\u003eThen come the cries  \n\\\u003eAn unkindness of Ravens  \n\\\u003eFour massive birds with indiscriminating tastes  \n\\\u003eYou hum some more just to drown out her blood-curdling screams as the birds devour Valravn  \n\\\u003eFaolre manages to break free herself  \n\\\u003eEven with the memories of the Spall Ravens so fresh in her mind, she takes up arms and launches at them  \n\\\u003eJust as you launch more bolts right behind her  \n\\\u003eDistracted by the meal and weakened by the poisonous regents ingested from the crone's body, two of the Ravens fall within seconds from sword and projectile  \n\\\u003eThe third retaliates, but little can be done against the onslaught of Volfire and Vorpel  \n\\\u003eOnly the fourth has the instinct to flee, but Faolre leaps upon it and pins the black avian to the ground  \n\\\u003e\"Bleed, you wretch!\" she yells. “Bleed all the way back to your masters. We'll join you before long!\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess digs her claws into the Spall Raven and rips through feather and flesh  \n\\\u003eShe is bucked off the bird as it takes flight  \n\\\u003eJust as planned, blood sprinkles from the open wound as the Raven soars off  \n\\\u003eDotting the landscape as it flees to its roost  \n  \n\\\u003eYou and Faolre leave the bog with your backs to the inferno you set upon her home  \n\\\u003eYears from now, healing will take place in this land  \n\\\u003ePerhaps the bog will someday be a beautiful glade just like its sister  \n\\\u003eSpeaking of healing…  \n\\\u003eYou look at Faolre's paw in wonder  \n\\\u003eHow did she touch the Death Spall and not react?  \n\\\u003eSure, part of her is covered in armor, but against something so infamously lethal to wolves?  \n\\\u003eFaolre flexes her digits  \n\\\u003e\"I didn't feel anything. No fear, no pain, no indecision. I just acted on what felt natural. They say those who survive the Death Spall grow stronger, but I believe it's something more.\"  \n\\\u003eShe looks to you with those golden flaxseed eyes  \n\\\u003eThere's sincerity in them  \n\\\u003e\"I knew I would have my indispensable companion with me to mend any injury, even if I lost my entire arm.\"  \n\\\u003eShe reaches out to you, balking for a second as though your body were the true Death Spall  \n\\\u003e\"Anon, I feel invulnerable next to you. I feel more powerful. You've given me vigor I could never hope for as I once was.\"  \n\\\u003eHer paw rests on your shoulder  \n\\\u003eIt's the weight of a solid fellowship, and not just a burly wolfess in armor  \n\\\u003e\"I don't want to fight all my life, but as long as I do I want to see you beside me.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre looks off to the center of the span between Thistlecrik and Gulesden  \n\\\u003e\"Just a little fighting more,\" she grunts. “The Blood Coterie will fall, and we'll have our futures to ourselves.  \n\\\u003eYou're a mercenary  \n\\\u003eYou're paid for war  \n\\\u003eAnd war is inevitable now  \n\\\u003eBut once it's over, you know you'll hang up your sword and crossbow  \n\\\u003eRight next to Faolre's own blades  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 10: The Blood Coterie]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eThistlecrik and Gulesden  \n\\\u003eHistorical enemies  \n\\\u003eNow their differences are left to history  \n\\\u003eWarring cultures now joined for a final war  \n\\\u003eWith any luck, it won't be a war  \n\\\u003eTwo proud races against a band of backstabbers and charlatans  \n\\\u003eYou will win by sheer, overwhelming force  \n\\\u003eBut it's Faolre you're worried about  \n\\\u003eShe wants to be at the front of the charge  \n\\\u003eYou know she has the strength, but her hubris could be her undoing with one wrong slash or a single misstep  \n\\\u003eNo  \n\\\u003eIt's this lack of faith in her that's the real hazard  \n\\\u003eIf you are at her side like she wants, the wolfess can be invincible  \n\\\u003eYou don't want to be responsible for adding to her scar count, but if it's inevitable then you'll love her regardless  \n\\\u003eLove  \n\\\u003eHopefully humans and wolves can learn to share it  \n\\\u003eAnd if they don't, you and Faolre will get by without either of them  \n\\\u003eFortunately, the beginnings of an alliance are already underway  \n\\\u003eYou and the wolfess wander down the middle path between the two civilizations, indecisive in what to do next  \n\\\u003eMan and wolf are already waiting at a stopgap encampment  \n\\\u003eCaptain Brackard and his men  \n\\\u003eThe grizzled elder wolf and his own people  \n\\\u003eAnd Lord Digre right in the middle  \n\\\u003eBrackard's unamused expression tells the whole story before Digre can say a word  \n\\\u003e\"Ah, Anon and dear Faolre!\" the bard says. “We've been expecting you!\"  \n\\\u003e\"What's the meaning of this, Digre?\" Faolre says  \n\\\u003eThe bard continues before either of the two leaders can interject  \n\\\u003e\"Surprised? Very well! It was a surprise! I knew the two of you would find a way to track those miscreants, so I wasted no time in unifying our allies. I apologize for such short notice, but…\"  \n\\\u003eHe claps his paws together  \n\\\u003e\"Are you prepared to join us in a little skirmish?\"  \n\\\u003eYou and Faolre nod  \n\\\u003eThe elder wolf has some reservations, but not about the upcoming battle  \n\\\u003e\"We will have to have a discussion about your loyalties, Digre,\" he growls, “And why you're serving the humans now.\"  \n\\\u003eBrackard scoffs  \n\\\u003e\"He spends more time playing his damned music than serving any of us.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard just giggles  \n\\\u003e\"Excellent! You both have a common nuisance! I can see the armistice has already set in!\"  \n  \n\\\u003eA good while has passed since the confrontation with Valravn, but the wolves pick up the scent of the fleeing Spall Raven's blood as though it were fresh  \n\\\u003eThe droplets even seem to glow faintly in your eyes  \n\\\u003eTypical of Raven blood, or something more to do with you?  \n\\\u003eEither way, you're back on the path to the charred remains of the crone's hut when your party veers off to follow the new trail  \n\\\u003eThe two races are still split during the hike  \n\\\u003eThough you weren't expecting an overnight miracle  \n\\\u003eFaolre makes an earnest effort to converse with Captain Brackard, even if just to sling banter at him  \n\\\u003e\"Your men are lucky, 'captain',\" she smirks. “Their poor senses mean they won't have to worry about marching downwind of you.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Let's hope your time in the cell hasn't made you soft,\" Brackard responds. “I don't know whether your inability to escape was a sign of your weakness, or a sign of your submissiveness.\"  \n\\\u003eThe two are already close friends, you can tell  \n\\\u003eWhile they become better acquainted, you decide to make small talk with the elder wolf  \n\\\u003eYou don't even know his name  \n\\\u003eHe doesn't look particularly thrilled to tell you  \n\\\u003e\"Names have great importance to many wolf clans, but each clan has their own way of showing it. You've likely spotted the similarity between Faolre and Digre already; they might even share distant blood connection of some sort.\"  \n\\\u003eYou can't imagine what kind of distant familial split would have been needed to make Faolre and Digre such opposites  \n\\\u003e\"In my clan, we often pass our names down to our offspring so that they might inherent the gifts of their parents. The worst a pup can do is sully this honor. The worst they can do is become a traitor….\"  \n\\\u003eNo…he's not…  \n\\\u003e\"Your people follow a similar custom, or at least your nobles do. Had I been human royalty, my son would have been Hurcku II.\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolf's lip rises with simmering anger  \n\\\u003e\"I suspected the fool was going down a dishonorable path, but I was the bigger fool to hold my tongue. He not only endangered his brethren, but he left a legacy I am ashamed to have any part in.\"  \n\\\u003eThe elder Hurcku smothers his rage  \n\\\u003eNow it's just the sadness of a heartbroken father  \n\\\u003e\"I denied it for so long. When you and Faolre spoke of his treachery, I didn't react. I refused to believe the one in your story was my own blood. But…despondency is the witness of evil. If I am to find redemption, I must erase the sins of my son.\"  \n\\\u003eYou don't want to show eagerness in killing his son, but you offer your support where you can  \n\\\u003eElder Hurcku looks to you with a weak smile  \n\\\u003e\"None of my people should have ill feelings toward someone like you, Anon. Mercenary you might be, but you are cut from a far different cloth than the likes of the Blood Coterie. You may even be more wolf than man, at least in our eyes.\"  \n\\\u003eIt's quite the compliment  \n\\\u003eBut would Faolre even feel the same way about you if you were a wolf like her?  \n\\\u003eYou know she's fascinated by humans  \n\\\u003eAnd you?  \n\\\u003eWould you have ever bonded with her had she been a human?  \n\\\u003eYour life as a vagabond wouldn't be complete if you weren't constantly burdened with these existential questions  \n\\\u003eEven through the mask, you can feel the bard's judgmental eye on you  \n  \n\\\u003eArrogant and frivolous  \n\\\u003eBut conniving and selfish  \n\\\u003eThat's the Blood Coterie  \n\\\u003eHigh up on the hills is an old lodge, large and in plain sight  \n\\\u003eThough it is still removed from most of the well-traveled roads, and only through aimless wandering would the average man find a path up to it  \n\\\u003eAnd he wouldn't likely live to tell about it  \n\\\u003eEvery possible avenue up to the lodge's front doors is clogged with traps and snares  \n\\\u003eOr they would be, if Digre weren't here to trip them  \n\\\u003eHe plucks his lute absentmindedly, with each tug of the string snapping a rope or uncovering a pit  \n\\\u003eIt makes the trek up to the lodge infinitely safer, but also much quicker  \n\\\u003eNo guards are posted outside, but there's surely someone on watch who will see a few dozen men and wolves infiltrating their hideout  \n\\\u003eThere's no pre-war speech  \n\\\u003eNo pause for tactics  \n\\\u003eNot even a cry to set the attack in motion  \n\\\u003eJust a troop of soldiers gaining speed on the lodge  \n\\\u003eThe doors blast open, and the annihilation begins  \n\\\u003eMany of the Coterie have barely armed themselves before the wolves are upon them  \n\\\u003eThe captain's men secure the entrance and any thresholds to keep stragglers from escaping  \n\\\u003eIf it weren't for the countless atrocities committed by the Coterie, you might have felt regret for the poor souls as they're hacked to pieces  \n\\\u003eBut with each fallen body drops a metal insignia  \n\\\u003eOne more stolen crest or emblem from a family that was never spared from their own slaughter  \n\\\u003eThe motivation of the mercenaries was not vengeance or retribution  \n\\\u003eIt was spite and greed  \n\\\u003eIf every one of their mothers and fathers share the same distain for them as Elder Hurcku does for his son, then nobody will mourn the Blood Coterie's destruction  \n\\\u003eFaolre seems unconcerned with the grunts as she sends them toppling over  \n\\\u003eIf she's going to have to spill blood one more time, it might as well be the blood of the worst killers  \n\\\u003eYou tell yourself not to worry so much about her, but it becomes difficult  \n\\\u003eShe often doesn't ready herself from an ambush until the blades are almost upon her  \n\\\u003eYou pick off a few yourself, unable to let her take the risk  \n\\\u003eYour crossbow is much more ineffective in these tight quarters, but you haven't completely given up on your swordplay just yet  \n\\\u003eNow you're facing off against lieutenants and veteran mercenaries  \n\\\u003eA mix of wolves and humans  \n\\\u003eThe din of the assault rings from room to room and floor to floor  \n\\\u003eFaolre navigates through the lodge as though drawn to a specific quarry  \n\\\u003eYou keep pace with her as closely as you can, until you loop around to an upper level where a balcony overlooks the armory floor below you  \n\\\u003eCaptain Brackard is fighting off a cadre of Coterie by himself, sword in hand  \n\\\u003eYou're starting to worry for his life as well  \n\\\u003eA massive giant of a man ducks through the doorway, larger than most wolves even  \n\\\u003eHe enters the fray swinging an equally mammoth hammer around  \n\\\u003eBrackard tries to dodge the assault as much as he can, but the hammer comes too close for him to escape in time  \n\\\u003eHis sword is knocked out of his grip and his arm is smashed against the bludgeoning weight  \n\\\u003eHis face contorts in pain  \n\\\u003eSaying it's “broken\" would be an understatement  \n\\\u003eIt hangs like a lame sleeve  \n\\\u003eYou fumble with a crossbow bolt, trying to nock it before the giant can take another swing at the captain  \n\\\u003eBut Brackard doesn't need you  \n\\\u003e\"I…I didn't become a captain of Her Majesty's guard just…just to be put down by an UNCOUTH BASTARD LIKE YOU!\"  \n\\\u003eHe grabs a halberd from the armory racking  \n\\\u003eWith only one good hand, he nestles the shaft in the crook of his arm and sweeps with the blade  \n\\\u003eThe giant's windup is thrown off as the halberd axe slices into his leg  \n\\\u003eBoth foe and hammer crash to the ground  \n\\\u003eYou've found a little more respect for the captain  \n\\\u003eHe's still injured, though, and reinforcements are arriving  \n\\\u003eThat's where Lord Digre decides to tip the scales  \n\\\u003e\"Gah, leave them to me!\" Brackard growls through clenched teeth  \n\\\u003e\"No such luck, my friend,\" the bard replies. “This will be every bit as satisfying for me as I'm sure it would be for you.\"  \n\\\u003eWith lute in hand, the room dims  \n\\\u003eThis is enough to freeze the encroaching grunts with confusion  \n\\\u003e\"A good audience deserves a rhapsody…\" the bard trills  \n\\\u003eIt's not just his own paws plucking wildly at the instrument's strings anymore  \n\\\u003eScythe-like forearms from a colossal, ghostly insect materialize, gently picking at the lute along with the wolf  \n\\\u003e\"…And a bad audience…\"  \n\\\u003eThe mantis fully solidifies, filling the room with its terror  \n\\\u003eIts wings spread wide  \n\\\u003e\"…A BAD audience gets a dirge.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard looks up to you  \n\\\u003eYou hope that's not a smile behind the mask  \n\\\u003e\"You should go see to dear Faolre, Anon.\"  \n\\\u003eHe doesn't have to tell you twice  \n\\\u003eYou're running just as fast to catch up with Faolre as you are to outpace the screams  \n  \n\\\u003eTrue to the habitat of a criminal, the hideout extends from the lodge to a subterranean cave  \n\\\u003eFewer of the Coterie lurk where it's less comfortable, but the sights are even more visceral  \n\\\u003eBloodstained weapons, spoiled foods, carcasses of various beasts…  \n\\\u003eEven a few hostages held for random are chained away, just as afraid of the wolfess peeling through the tunnels as they are of their imprisonment  \n\\\u003eThe shouting starts up again, and you're in the main war room of the lodge  \n\\\u003eA finely carved wooden table in the center to sit all the organization's leaders  \n\\\u003eBroken in half  \n\\\u003eMaps of the land and posters of the most wanted targets hung like awards on the walls  \n\\\u003eShredded to ribbons  \n\\\u003eCoffers of jewels and coin from a lifetime's worth of plundering and marauding  \n\\\u003eScattered along the floor like spilled beer  \n\\\u003eFaolre is dispatching the entire room's worth of the Blood Coterie's toughest barbarians by herself  \n\\\u003eYou have to jump back just to avoid having a body hurled at you  \n\\\u003eWhen the cleaving ceases, the only member left is trying to weasel himself out of the room  \n\\\u003eFaolre kicks him onto his back and brings her swords to his throat like shears  \n\\\u003e\"Talk!\" she snaps at him. “Where is Scrimshaw? Where is your cowardly leader hiding?\"  \n\\\u003eThe prone man points shakily to the lifeless body at your feet  \n\\\u003e\"Is your life so worthless you'd let it end with a joke?\" Faolre growls. “Where's the WOLF?\"  \n\\\u003e\"N-no!\" the man stutters. “S-S-Scrimshaw is a human! The wolf is just for intimidation! Y-you know, like a symbol!\"  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess doesn't look convinced  \n\\\u003e\"Then take me to HIM.\"  \n\\\u003eShe allows the weaseling man to stand, and he walks to a nook in the cave wall partially hidden by a bookshelf  \n\\\u003eYou should have guessed  \n\\\u003eAfter all, most of the Coterie are presumably illiterate dullards, so why would they have a place for books?  \n\\\u003eOnce the man slips through, he breaks into a sprint  \n\\\u003eFaolre is right after him, with you not far after  \n\\\u003eOnce you reach the final chamber, you find the wolfess stopped  \n\\\u003eYou'd have to be deaf and blind to not understand why  \n\\\u003eCaged on the far side is a wolf  \n\\\u003eYou'd call him a direwolf and that wouldn't do him justice  \n\\\u003eHe's twice the size of the giant who fought Brackard, and nearly as wide with thick muscle  \n\\\u003eIf it weren't for the tunnels in the back (likely leading to outside hidden exits), there's no way he'd fit the way you came  \n\\\u003eBut the most frightening part is his pelt  \n\\\u003eJutting from his body are chunks of metal like spikes  \n\\\u003eThere's no fur around the skin where the metal protrudes, only diseased, raw wounds  \n\\\u003eFrom the dread in your gut, you realize what it is  \n\\\u003eDeath Spall, embedded into his body  \n\\\u003eFaolre is speechless  \n\\\u003e\"G-get them, Grimspall!\" the weasely man cries  \n\\\u003eHe unlocks the caged wolf, but is launched into the wall with a sickening crack by the titanic creature  \n\\\u003eIt's man and wolfess against a monstrous abomination  \n\\\u003eBut even the weakest-hearted child could eventually find a reason to not fear the direwolf  \n\\\u003eGrimspall is a hostile savage, but there's redness in his eyes  \n\\\u003eHe lives every moment in anguish, and whenever his eyes are open they're blinded with tears  \n\\\u003eHe rushes Faolre, but his swipes are sluggish and his roars are feeble  \n\\\u003eBut like a man set ablaze, he's not a foe you want touching the wolfess  \n\\\u003eYou fire several bolts into the direwolf, while Faolre slashes his pelt  \n\\\u003eChunks of metal drop off him along with fur and meat  \n\\\u003eBefore long he's swinging at nothing  \n\\\u003eFaolre relents her attack, but only so she can find the opportunity for a merciful, quick killing blow  \n\\\u003eGrimspall lashes at her with his jaw, and Faolre knees him under his muzzle  \n\\\u003eWhen he recoils from the blow, the wolfess slashes his exposed neck  \n\\\u003eThe direwolf gurgles a final howl and slams onto the stone floor  \n\\\u003eHis dying expression is one filled with remorse, but also relief  \n\\\u003eFaolre bows her head before the fallen wolf  \n\\\u003eThe last of the Blood Coterie has been wiped out  \n\\\u003eAnticlimactic, but soon bringing a welcome feeling of closure  \n  \n\\\u003eYou and Faolre remain in the chamber mourning Grimspall when the three leaders of your own party find you  \n\\\u003eThe limp-armed Brackard is supporting the Elder Hurcku on his shoulders  \n\\\u003eThe wolf must have injured his leg during the battle  \n\\\u003e\"I spent the better part of my first war fighting on my stomach, without the use of EITHER leg,\" Brackard scoffs to the wolf  \n\\\u003e\"Unsurprising,\" Elder Hurcku says. “You seem the type to crawl around on the dirt.\"  \n\\\u003eLord Digre stands inanimate over the corpse of Grimspall  \n\\\u003e\"Such a tragic sight,\" he laments. “Wolves who survive the Death Spall are said to grow stronger, but repeatedly inflicting such a bane upon yourself? All the clarity left in his mind must have been wasted on feeling a never-ending pain.\"  \n\\\u003eThe bard turns to you and Faolre  \n\\\u003e\"It is possible he could have worked up enough of a resistance to become a godly wolf warrior. However, he was misfortunate enough to not have the caring touch of someone to ease him through the suffering. He didn't have someone to comfort him. He didn't have someone to love him.\"  \n\\\u003eYour heart aches to look at Grimspall  \n\\\u003eWhat if that had been Faolre?  \n\\\u003eWhat if her brush with the Death Spall had been the beginning of a transformation into what the direwolf had become?  \n\\\u003e\"Everyone deserves to have their injuries tended to by a gentle touch,\" Digre continues. “Which is why we should soon depart from this hive of wretchedness. These boys have nurses waiting for them at home.\"  \n\\\u003eElder Hurcku looks at Brackard with a sly grin  \n\\\u003e\"Ah, yes. I believe the good captain has someone in Gulesden absolutely beside herself with worry.\"  \n\\\u003eBrackard's face blanches  \n\\\u003e\"I beg your…! I don't understand your delirious words, wolf!\"  \n\\\u003eHe tries to deflect the embarrassment, noticing Faolre sifting through the spilt coinage  \n\\\u003eShe has a look of longing in her eyes  \n\\\u003eAt last, there's enough here to fulfill all her wildest dreams  \n\\\u003eIt's almost eerie how lost she looks amidst the treasure  \n\\\u003eYou shock her back to reality with a touch  \n\\\u003eThere's shame in her face  \n\\\u003e\"Leave it be!\" Brackard commands. “That is blood money, and it ought to be cleansed with good will. The families and victims of these murderous cretins deserve this money.\"  \n\\\u003eHe has a good point, though you wonder how much will really go to those in need of the charity, rather than just line the pockets of nobility  \n\\\u003eFaolre scowls with the same belief, though she tries to find a light among the cynicism  \n\\\u003eFortunately, the captain has an answer  \n\\\u003e\"HOWEVER…the Duchess has put out a respectable bounty for the one known as Scrimshaw. If gold is what you mercenaries are after, then you can take your kill to her for your reward.\"  \n\\\u003eHis words have bite, but you're willing to take a strike to your honor if it means helping Faolre achieve her dreams  \n\\\u003eYou take her paw, examining it closely  \n\\\u003eThen you take a look at the rest of her face  \n\\\u003eA few minor scrapes, but nothing severe  \n\\\u003e\"They're worse than they look,\" she says matter-of-factly. “You're going to have to treat them thoroughly.\"  \n\\\u003eYou give her paw a gentle squeeze  \n\\\u003eShe nearly crushes your hand  \n\\\u003eThe five of you reconvene with the rest of the troops  \n\\\u003eThey're cleaning up the aftermath and looking after the saved hostages  \n\\\u003eThistlecrik's Father Frond will have a lot on his hands  \n\\\u003eBut it's a good omen to return home with more souls than you left with  \n\\\u003eThough a few of Brackard's trusted men remain behind to hold the lodge in the name of the Duchess  \n\\\u003eElder Hurcku's own stay behind as well  \n\\\u003e\"Perhaps a negotiation is in order,\" he says to Brackard. “This would make for an ideal landmark for our new fellowship, once the carnage has been cleared out.\"  \n\\\u003e\"You will have to speak with the Duchess on that matter,\" Brackard responds. “Unfortunately, that would mean sending one of your own into Her city for an audience.\"  \n\\\u003eDigre claps Brackard on the shoulder, eliciting a whine from the captain  \n\\\u003e\"What fortune!\" the bard sings. “Our dear Faolre will have to speak with the Duchess anyway to claim her bounty! Her and Anon would make the perfect duo to demonstrate the unity of man and wolf!\"  \n\\\u003eYou and Faolre  \n\\\u003eEnders of war when you both started as instruments  \n\\\u003eMessengers of truce when neither one was welcomed into town  \n\\\u003eA lot has changed in such a short while  \n\\\u003eIncluding the wolfess  \n\\\u003eYou don't say a word to Faolre for as long as you can, so that she doesn't realize her arm has been around your shoulders since you left the lodge  \n\\\u003eThistlecrik and Gulseden will soon be in sight once again  \n\\\u003eBut you're looking beyond them to the Duchess' magnificent city  \n\\\u003eA city you'll soon be taking the wolfess to so she can live out the luxurious life of peace she's always wanted  \n\\\u003eGiving that to her will be worth more than any bounty  \n  \n  \n  \n**[[CHAPTER 11: Faolre]]**  \n  \n\\\u003eThe humans and wolves have put aside their hatred for one another  \n\\\u003eOr at least the people of Thistlecrik and Gulesden have  \n\\\u003eThough even after the wars they can find disagreements somewhere  \n\\\u003eLike which town to return to first  \n\\\u003e\"Perhaps we should go our separate ways for now,\" Elder Hurcku says. “Give us both a chance to recover.\"  \n\\\u003eCaptain Brackard scoffs to hide a grimace  \n\\\u003e\"Then go tend to your little scrape, wolf. I'VE gotten a second wind.\"  \n\\\u003eNot to be outdone, Hurcku lowers his injured leg to the ground  \n\\\u003eIt's sensitive, but he can at least put weight on it  \n\\\u003e\"I'll be damned. It already feels better.\"  \n\\\u003eThe two leaders nod over their improved condition  \n\\\u003eMeanwhile, Lord Digre hums not so discreetly  \n\\\u003eFaolre speaks up  \n\\\u003e\"I don't care where we travel. I go with Anon. We're not splitting up.\"  \n\\\u003eIt's a declaration of merely her own interests  \n\\\u003eSpecifically, interests in YOU  \n\\\u003eBut the others take it like it were a decisive revelation for the two races' futures  \n\\\u003e\"Fine, we'll make for Gulesden first,\" Brackard says. “This poor old wolf needs his rest.\"  \n\\\u003e\"More like the good Captain wants to see this mistress of his,\" Hurcku chides  \n\\\u003eThe banter goes on for some time  \n\\\u003eThe party's movement is surprisingly quick and steady, no doubt “encouraged\" by the bard and his merry tune  \n  \n\\\u003eGulesden is waiting for your arrival, and all the injured are immediately carried off to be mended  \n\\\u003eElder Hurcku receives most of the attention, but Captain Brackard is given fair treatment at the wolf's orders  \n\\\u003eAll the while Brackard is getting patched up, the sultry wolfess from before is hovering close by  \n\\\u003eShe isn't nearly as disrespectful to Faolre as you and her are called in  \n\\\u003eBrackard is trying to seal a scroll of parchment with one hand  \n\\\u003e\"Never in my years would I imagine having to give praise to a sellsword,\" he grumbles to you, “but good deeds deserve commendation. Here.\"  \n\\\u003eHe hands you a scroll, as well as a royal badge from his coat  \n\\\u003e\"You and the wolf will want your bounties, correct? The Duchess will be waiting for good news in Cinderburgh.\"  \n\\\u003e\"I will send a message ahead on expeditious wings to prepare for their arrival!\" the bard exclaims  \n\\\u003e\"Fine, but you need to go back to the people of OUR home, Digre,\" the captain says. “I shudder to think what that cleric is letting happen in our stead.\"  \n\\\u003eElder Hurcku looks from Digre to the captain's men  \n\\\u003eJust from his expression you can tell he knows what the other humans don't  \n\\\u003eDigre regards the old wolf, prepared for his lecture  \n\\\u003e\"Never mind, Digre,\" Hurcku sighs. “Do as he says. I have nothing more to say, except that Gulesden has lost two...heroes today.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre's return is venerated by the other wolves  \n\\\u003eSurvival on the battlefield, cheating death from the Spall (both blade and bird), and slayer of the worst mercenary band the lands have ever seen  \n\\\u003eShe's definitely leaving the village with more than a few trinkets and rewards  \n\\\u003e\"These will be added to my trophy room,\" she nods  \n\\\u003eMore than one audacious wolf tries to court her right on the spot, but she rejects them without a second chance  \n\\\u003eAfter each one she turns away, her eye strays to you and a smirk forms on her lips  \n\\\u003eGulesden didn't birth the legendary wolfess, and it won't contain her either  \n  \n\\\u003eYou, Faolre, Digre, and Brackard's leftover men continue the hike to Thistlecrik  \n\\\u003eThe bard skips the entire way like a giddy child  \n\\\u003eEven Faolre looks to be more eager to see the human town again compared to Gulesden  \n\\\u003e\"I am…almost tempted to see the prison again,\" the wolfess says  \n\\\u003eYou ask her if she'd like to act out your meeting again  \n\\\u003eAs a joke, of course  \n\\\u003eYou can almost see the longing in her eyes  \n\\\u003eIndeed, it feels like Thistlecrik doesn't ever change, and if you went down the cold stairs of the prison you'd see a vagabond cleaning and wrapping up a wolfess  \n\\\u003eAnd here's the good Father Frond  \n\\\u003eHe looks a little haggard from his extra duties as temporary town ruler, but otherwise has the same gregariousness he had when you met him  \n\\\u003e\"It's so good to see the two of you again!\" he laughs. “I was worried you'd be missing a few limbs by the time you'd returned!\"  \n\\\u003eWell, Brackard almost did  \n\\\u003eYou don't intend on staying in town for long, only long enough to retrieve the gorget and see Digre's messenger take off  \n\\\u003eIt's a small dove, with a mask-like head  \n\\\u003eIt carries a ribbon of parchment as it soars toward Cinderburgh  \n\\\u003eFaolre keeps eyeing the box containing the gorget, and you have to keep it away from her curious paws as you speak with the lord  \n\\\u003e\"I'm afraid I've been prohibited from leaving the town for a while by our friend Captain Brackard,\" Digre says with the same insincerity as a grounded child intending on sneaking out after dark  \n\\\u003eHe turns to look off in the direction his carrier bird flew  \n\\\u003e\"You should hopefully receive a warmer welcome in Cinderburgh than you have either here or the wolves' village. Please give my regards to the Duchess. I'm afraid she isn't always happy to see me. I wouldn't be either, given my complexion. Ah-ha!\"  \n\\\u003eHe picks up a lute and tunes the strings, but doesn't play it  \n\\\u003eHe just hums to himself as you and Faolre leave his estate  \n\\\u003eFather Frond catches the two of you just before leaving  \n\\\u003e\"I hope I'm not too bold in assuming the unity between the two of you.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre looks a little taken aback but doesn't challenge him  \n\\\u003e\"Just a little token of our appreciation, for all you've done for us and the pursuit of peace.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're starting to collect boxes at this point  \n\\\u003eThe one from the cleric only has two polished metal rings inside  \n\\\u003e\"Just in case.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eCinderburgh  \n\\\u003eYou've only ever spent a few days here on your travels  \n\\\u003eEven after exploring the streets for every moment of your stay, you never saw more than the outer “crust\"  \n\\\u003eIt's a phenomenal city for someone not a true monarch, but the Duchess is a phenomenal woman  \n\\\u003eOr so you've heard  \n\\\u003eYou'll have plenty of time to absorb the atmosphere of Cinderburgh after you've met its ruler  \n\\\u003eBeing a city of mostly humans, there are a number of gawkers who give the two of you some strange looks and disapproving gestures  \n\\\u003eBut their hushed gossip is beneath the wolfess  \n\\\u003eQuite literally  \n\\\u003eNot only does she tower over most bystanders, her head is kept aloft to take in the grand sights all around her  \n\\\u003eIt's difficult for Faolre to stay focused on the task at hand, however  \n\\\u003eShe's distracted by every new scene, sound, and smell  \n\\\u003eWhat's not difficult is finding the chateau where the Duchess lives  \n\\\u003eIt's the tallest structure even when taking the hills into consideration  \n\\\u003eYou pull out Brackard's badge as you approach the entry guards, and they part as though repelled by the object  \n\\\u003eEither your arrival was already noted, or the badge truly has some incredible authority here  \n\\\u003eThe inside of the chateau is every bit as opulent and regal as you'd imagine a castle to be  \n\\\u003eOnce again, you can't stop to enjoy the visuals as you're funneled down the main hallway to have an audience with the Duchess herself  \n\\\u003eIf you could restore the picture hanging in Digre's estate, it would be nearly identical to the image of the ruler standing on the dais before you  \n\\\u003eDecorated in makeups, draped with a heavenly dress, and an air of cool dominance that makes the symbol of the flaming swan entirely justified  \n\\\u003e\"It seems I have the two of you to thank for ridding my domain of unscrupulousness,\" the Duchess says in a posh tone  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't regard either you or Faolre any less than the other  \n\\\u003eMercenary or wolf; it doesn't matter to her  \n\\\u003eThough reservedly dignified, you sense that the Duchess is truly thankful for your accomplishment  \n\\\u003e\"I have already prepared a bounty for the elimination of the Blood Coterie and its leadership, as well as what I hope you'll find to be a generous gift.\"  \n\\\u003eA coffer is brought before you  \n\\\u003eThe lid is opened, and you're nearly blinded  \n\\\u003eThere's far more gold inside than all of your cumulative payments as a mercenary  \n\\\u003eIt'll be a challenge to carry it on top of everything else  \n\\\u003e\"There is a stateroom available for the two of you to use whenever you are here in Cinderburgh. I hope you will join me for dinner at tonight's gala.\"  \n\\\u003eYou frankly expected much more of a reaction from Faolre  \n\\\u003eShe's getting everything she wanted, but she's silent  \n\\\u003eMaybe she's already practicing her courtly attitude?  \n\\\u003e\"We shall speak more this evening,\" you hear the Duchess say, interrupting your concern for Faolre  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess doesn't wait a second before turning to leave, ready to get out into the town proper  \n\\\u003eYou follow at her heels, letting her be the guide  \n\\\u003eShe's never been in the city to the best of your knowledge, but something must have caught her fancy in the short time you've been here  \n\\\u003eYou can't even hear the clacking of her nails on the immaculate stone streets amongst the roar of city life as she marches toward her destination  \n\\\u003eA dress shop along one of the corners  \n\\\u003eIn its window is a breathtaking garment: a dress woven with masterwork talent and the finest silks one could buy  \n\\\u003eYou wonder how many broken hearts have sat in front of the window, pining for what they could never afford  \n\\\u003eIt might even be outside of your own budget, even with the bounty still newly jingling in your wallet  \n\\\u003eFaolre steps up to the tailor confidently  \n\\\u003eBut as soon as she passes the threshold you see some apprehension  \n\\\u003eIt's to be expected; none of the staff inside look particularly welcoming for a wolf like her  \n\\\u003eThat is, until you mention of much you'd be willing to pay  \n\\\u003eTheir mood changes dramatically, though there is still some doubt in their eyes as to how they should go about dressing a creature unlike themselves  \n\\\u003eThey squabble over designs and fabrics  \n\\\u003eEventually they collude to sell you the one in the window, apparently more concerned with their commission than the costumer  \n\\\u003eThat is, until their employer puts them in their place  \n\\\u003e\"No no NO!\" comes the raspy voice of an elderly woman  \n\\\u003eThough aged, she has an elegant look of experience in her skin  \n\\\u003eThat and several faded scars along her creases  \n\\\u003eIf Faolre were a human, this would be her  \n\\\u003eThe head dressmaker glares at her understudies  \n\\\u003e\"The best dress on the worst match makes it the worst dress,\" she snaps. “What have I told you? ACCENTUATE the costumer's beauty, don't mask it!\"  \n\u0026nbsp;\\\u003eShe doesn't use an inch of her tape measure on Faolre  \n\\\u003eHer eyes alone do the job to a near supernatural level  \n\\\u003e\"You wait here,\" she says to you  \n\\\u003eIt's only fair, you suppose; Faolre has been through the same treatment before  \n\\\u003eYou spend the next few hours in and around the shop, picking out some clothes of your own from a neighboring tailor  \n\\\u003eLife as a mercenary has not supplied you with a suitable wardrobe  \n\\\u003eYou end up waiting some time longer after finishing all your errands  \n\\\u003eYou're on the verge of dozing off when the head dressmaker claps her hands  \n\\\u003e\"It is finished.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're led through privacy curtains to see the wolfess standing before the mirror  \n\\\u003eThe head dressmaker was right: the garment in the window wouldn't have done Faolre justice  \n\\\u003eTHIS is true beauty  \n\\\u003eA blend of human customs and wolfish heritage  \n\\\u003eAristocratic and tribal all at once  \n\\\u003eA paragon of femininity, but reminiscent of the heroic armor sitting in the corner  \n\\\u003eFaolre just stares at the wolf in the mirror in complete stillness  \n\\\u003eIt's a heartwarming sight, but it's missing one final touch  \n\\\u003eYou remove Digre's gorget from the box at long last  \n\\\u003eYou need to step up to reach Faolre's neck, but it fits around her plush fur perfectly  \n\\\u003eShe inhales at your touch, and you can see the tiniest tear form in the corner of her eye  \n\\\u003eYou join her in the reflection  \n\\\u003eThe head dressmaker smirks with self-satisfaction  \n  \n\\\u003eBefore you attend the gala, there's one more task you need to do  \n\\\u003eFaolre should be groomed  \n\\\u003eNot out of stink or grime, but love and dedication to her beauty  \n\\\u003eYou return to the chateau and request a bath be drawn for her, and a servant takes off with a salute  \n\\\u003eBy the time you find the room she had run off to, you find a steaming tub and a cart full of oils and soaps  \n\\\u003eThe servant waits for instructions but Faolre dismisses her  \n\\\u003e\"I have everything I need here. You may go.\"  \n\\\u003eEverything, meaning you  \n\\\u003eNow alone, Faolre carefully peels off her new dress and steps into the bath  \n\\\u003eNeither embarrassed nor intentionally erotic  \n\\\u003eShe's reclined and relaxed  \n\\\u003eYou give yourself a moment to take in the wolf before you  \n\\\u003eThough her charcoal fur is missing in places where scars show visibly, it is a magnificent coat with a wonderful sheen  \n\\\u003eMade even better with you lathering and soaking it  \n\\\u003eHer athletic physique shares its space with womanly features, such as an ample chest and flaring hips flanking a stalwart torso  \n\\\u003eEased and massaged as you work your fingers over it  \n\\\u003eYes, Faolre lets you explore her body  \n\\\u003e\"Remember not to miss any spots this time.\"  \n\\\u003eYour love for the wolfess means this would be the perfect scene for you to frame her curves with your hands  \n\\\u003eBut you want to see her happy, to see her treated like a goddess  \n\\\u003ePerhaps stronger feelings of intimacy will come later  \n\\\u003eYet for now the sexuality is overshadowed by gracefulness  \n\\\u003eEven the scars receive the attention they deserve  \n\\\u003eYou run along them gently, examining how well they've healed  \n\\\u003eMiraculously, the one caused by the Death Spall blade has all but vanished  \n\\\u003eA testament to her constitution, and to your restorative talents  \n\\\u003eIs it magic after all?  \n\\\u003eYou might never know; it's too subtle of an ability to say for certain  \n\\\u003eThe dripping wolfess stands up, well over your head  \n\\\u003eYou take up the fresh linens and dry her from head to toe  \n\\\u003eThe rubbing is vigorous at first, but as her pelt dries your motions are much softer  \n\\\u003eNo part of her form is left unattended to  \n\\\u003eFaolre simply stands in place, moving her arms and legs for full coverage but otherwise letting you pamper her at your own pace  \n\\\u003eYou glide over the small of her back and the valley between her breasts  \n\\\u003eNo objection, no scorn  \n\\\u003eYou can't help but lean your face in and inhale the scent of her cleaned fur  \n\\\u003eFaolre gives a throaty chuckle  \n\\\u003eNow fully groomed, the dress waits for her  \n  \n\\\u003eA clothed Anon and Faolre return to the chateau late evening  \n\\\u003eIt's an event that evidently draws in just about every noble and dignitary in the city, if not the whole region  \n\\\u003eOf course none of the faces are familiar to you apart from the Duchess  \n\\\u003eExcept perhaps two others…  \n\\\u003eWith a sling on one arm and a wolfess on another is Captain Brackard  \n\\\u003eApparently fresh from Gulesden; no injury on the planet is able to impede him  \n\\\u003eThe sultry wolfess leans on him, rubbing his shoulders and whispering seductively into his ears  \n\\\u003eYou can tell the captain is trying to keep his composure as he nods to her words  \n\\\u003eSeems there's something about warriors and barriers when it comes to showing emotion  \n\\\u003eAt the very least, the captain appears to be in a happy position  \n\\\u003eMost of the guests are eventually seated in one of several dining rooms, but only a select few are dining with the Duchess  \n\\\u003eThere's no shortage of variety or proportion on the table  \n\\\u003eIt's a banquet that intimidates you  \n\\\u003eNot as much as sitting in close proximity to the lady herself, though  \n\\\u003eFaolre puts all her effort into restraining her eating habits, so it's up to you to make the small talk  \n\\\u003eEvery so often the Duchess will look to Faolre studiously  \n\\\u003eSpecifically, the wolfess' neck  \n\\\u003e\"If you don't mind me asking,\" she says, “where did you come about that gorget?\"  \n\\\u003eIt's a potentially damning question, but it would be worse to lie to someone of her power  \n\\\u003eCaptain Brackard, though seated at the same table (fed carefully by his mistress), is out of earshot  \n\\\u003eYou tell the Duchess it was a gift from him, meant to be a gift from Digre to his love  \n\\\u003e\"My sister,\" she corrects.  \n\\\u003eYou'd assumed familial connection after Digre showed you the family crest, but not necessarily sisterhood  \n\\\u003e\"She was the spirited one; the dreamer and romantic. Met a charming wolf during one of her bouts of wanderlust. Very rarely did she take guards or escorts with her. I...trust you understand what happened from there.\"  \n\\\u003eThe last thing you want to do is take Faolre's gift back, but...  \n\\\u003e\"Would you like this in memory of her?\" the wolfess offers before you have a chance  \n\\\u003e\"No, no...it wouldn't be right. I won't deny I'm still a little bitter at your Lord Digre about the whole thing—something I must learn to overcome—but I gave the gorget to him in good faith. If you were given it with the same good faith, then you deserve it now.\"  \n\\\u003eThe meal resumes quietly, until the Duchess gives one last toast  \n\\\u003eA toast to you and Faolre  \n\\\u003eOnce the commotion dies down, you ask the Duchess for something  \n\\\u003eYou ask to excuse yourself so you may treat Faolre to a night of pampering  \n\\\u003eThe Duchess nods knowingly  \n\\\u003e\"You've earned as much, if not more. I will have the servants bring whatever you need to your state room.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre's ears perk up as you thank the Duchess  \n\\\u003eFinally, it's time to treat the wolfess like the queen you know she is  \n  \n\\\u003eFaolre's stateroom is like something out of a fable  \n\\\u003eExtravagant fabrics cover everything but the ceiling  \n\\\u003eArt and mirrors adorn the walls in immaculate organization  \n\\\u003eTwo hearths big enough for a man to step into await at opposing ends  \n\\\u003eThe bed in the back could contain four of the best ones found at any inn  \n\\\u003eThere's a “pool\" of pillows in the center of it all, with a half-dozen servants around the rim waiting for orders   \n\\\u003eWaiting amongst the servants are trays and pitches of various sweets, fruits, wines, and creams  \n\\\u003eIt's more than any one person cold eat in a week, but excess seems to be the status quo for those living such extravagant lives  \n\\\u003eEven for Faolre's hearty appetite, you can't imagine her putting much of a dent in it  \n\\\u003eEspecially following such a filling dinner  \n\\\u003eThe look on her face seems to say the same thing  \n\\\u003eShe inspects the food and drink, then turns to the servants  \n\\\u003e\"Everything looks superb,\" she says. “You are all excused. Thank you.\"  \n\\\u003eYou're just as surprised as the servants, but they're expected to listen and serve   \n\\\u003eAs they file out of the stateroom, you're left with the wolfess and bewilderment  \n\\\u003eIsn't that what she wanted? To be doted on by many eager hands?  \n\\\u003e\"Foreign hands,\" she says. “I've been thinking about my wishes, and many of them have been…reevaluated. I don't need a company of servants to cater to me; I only need the fondness of just one.\"  \n\\\u003eShe walks over to the pool of pillows and eases herself into it  \n\\\u003e\"Anon, would you indulge me?\"  \n\\\u003eIf this is what she truly wants now, you can't deny her  \n\\\u003eYou wheel the desserts over beside her, waiting for her instructions  \n\\\u003eShe points to a sweet roll first  \n\\\u003eIt's about as long as her muzzle, but she takes small bites as though emulating a noblewoman  \n\\\u003eA little of the frosting sticks to her nose, and you wipe it off with a silken cloth  \n\\\u003eAfter the sweet roll comes a glass of creamy milk  \n\\\u003eThe cup is cumbersome for her lips, and once more you're there with the cloth to clean up the mess  \n\\\u003eYou have no objections about it, but Faolre looks displeased   \n\\\u003eAfter each sweet you give to her, you massage her back, neck, and shoulders while she chews  \n\\\u003eThe wolfess stares off into a daydream  \n\\\u003eYou work your hands in deeply as you rub her body  \n\\\u003eHowever, the lack of feedback from her is disconcerting  \n\\\u003eNext comes a plump strawberry  \n\\\u003eYou hold it for her teeth to take, and she does so daintily as to not break the skin of the fruit  \n\\\u003eShe suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you down into the pillow pit  \n\\\u003eAs you let out a surprised yelp Faolre stuffs the strawberry into your mouth with hers  \n\\\u003eWhen you're done swallowing she pulls you in for a powerful kiss  \n\\\u003eFaolre, the cold, weathered warrior  \n\\\u003eFinally showing genuine passion  \n\\\u003eReciprocation of your love for her  \n\\\u003eYou can taste the sweetness of everything you've given to her on her tongue  \n\\\u003eHer experience in kissing is lacking, but she makes up for it with dedicated fervor  \n\\\u003eIt's a sloppy release when she finally breaks the contact, and your own dribble is soaked up by the fur of her neck  \n\\\u003eShe buries you into the fluff and covers your head with her chin  \n\\\u003eYou're in a full-body embrace, lost in the pillows and dress and wolfess  \n\\\u003eAny attempt to fidget on your part is smothered by an even tighter hold  \n\\\u003eThis night is supposed to be about her, but it's you who seems to be getting the most pleasure out of it  \n\\\u003eIsn't she happy?  \n\\\u003e\"Anon,\" she hums. “Don't worry. You have done everything I've asked for. You've been patient and caring. You've been brave and courteous. I couldn't wish for a better companion.\"  \n\\\u003eShe gives you a chance to breath, but after leaving the warmth of her body you immediately want to return  \n\\\u003e\"But I'm far too restless for these slow customs, and this richness sits uncomfortably in my stomach. This life isn't for me; I know this now.\"  \n\\\u003eMaybe it's the wrong kind of pampering and spoiling?  \n\\\u003eMaybe silks and dresses aren't the answer, and she really just wants trophies and swords  \n\\\u003e\"Possibly,\" she muses, “but not sitting worthlessly on the walls. I don't want wars, but I want to teach and prepare for the future. Perhaps the Duchess would have a place for me on the training grounds, readying a new generation for combat…just in case.\"  \n\\\u003eAnd the money?  \n\\\u003e\"It'll weigh us down. I want us to see the world. The best moments I've had with you thus far have been on the roads and in strange places. I want to see more of those with you, and if we need money to do so, that's all it'll be used for.\"  \n\\\u003eEverything has been turned on its head  \n\\\u003eHer entire life's pursuits have been abandoned for new ones  \n\\\u003eIs that your fault?  \n\\\u003e\"I don't mean to be flippant,\" she reassures you. “I've achieved what I wanted. You've made this possible, and it's you who kept the best in me from being cast aside. These nobles have no character; you saved me from losing mine.\"  \n\\\u003eHer breathing pulses for a brief moment  \n\\\u003eWas that…a sob?  \n\\\u003e\"My Anon, I want you to help me show true compassion. Not vulnerability, but tenderness. My muscles are too tense and stiff to do this myself. You have taken such good care of this body, and it is rightfully yours. If I can't have this—if I can't have you—I'll forever be empty.\"  \n\\\u003eFaolre strokes your neck and breathes into your ear  \n\\\u003e\"I want to show my love for you, Anon. Please, help me do this.\"  \n\\\u003eYou will  \n\\\u003eWhatever it takes  \n\\\u003eBut is she sure she's ready to give up living like a queen so soon?  \n\\\u003eShe inhales contemplatively  \n\\\u003e\"There is…one more thing I wish to try….\"  \n  \n\\\u003eThe other guests have turned in or gone home  \n\\\u003eYou and Faolre are the only souls still awake  \n\\\u003eThe ballroom is vacant, except for the dim glow of the candles and the bright shine of the moon  \n\\\u003eThe clap of your shoes and the tap of her nails are like a muted applause welcoming man and wolf  \n\\\u003eThe lunar luminescence is your spotlight  \n\\\u003eShe stands in wait, your demure wolfess  \n\\\u003eWaiting for your first move  \n\\\u003eYou reach out; she gives you her paw  \n\\\u003eThe two of you move in closer, looking into each other's eyes  \n\\\u003eOne step, then another  \n\\\u003eThe two of you begin your dance  \n\\\u003eNeither one of you are particularly adept at this, just as awkward as kissing was  \n\\\u003eHer inexperience and your size difference  \n\\\u003eBut it's still the intent that counts  \n\\\u003eYou dance to the rhythm of your breathing and footfalls  \n\\\u003eAnd then the sound of harping  \n\\\u003eDelicate and near silent, but perfect as the ambience for your moment with Faolre  \n\\\u003eYou see the bard's shadow in the floor, then his silhouette on the high windowsill  \n\\\u003eWith enough squinting, you can barely make out his unmasked face  \n\\\u003eThe tattered wolf beams at you while he plays, and a twinkle drops from his one eye  \n\\\u003eHe's here to play, not to interrupt  \n\\\u003eIt's only you and the wolfess in essence  \n\\\u003eMoving in unison, so you can give her freedom to lead and be led  \n\\\u003eBlinking in unison, so neither of you ever has to go a second without missing the other's lovely eyes  \n\\\u003ePart of you wants this moment to last forever, but another knows how selfish that is  \n\\\u003eAfter all, you have a whole lifetime's worth of adventure to discover  \n\\\u003eNew lands, new faces, new ways to show love  \n\\\u003eJust Anon and his dear Faolre  \n  \n  \n  \n\\\u003eThe end"}