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One

_You can fly

Swinging from your trapeze

Scaring all the people

But you'll never scare me_

The night was cool, and the wind was calm. Clumps of snow lay in batches strewn across the barren branches of aspen trees, and icicles dangled precariously below. The frost hung in the clear air, and nothing cast a shadow. All was silent this tranquil afternoon, deep in the heart of the Shiverpeak Mountains.

Then the shouting broke the still of the night.

Xavis Quilltrot pushed against the mounds of snow, scrambling upon four limbs to put some distance between himself and his pursuers. Sweat clung in freezing droplets to his brow, and his fingers burned with freeze. The black hair of his mane, usually so well-kept, drooped over his eyes. His chest was heaving, mouth agape to suck as much air in as he could with every passing step, and still he could not stop.

In the windless night, he could hear the throaty voices of the men a hundred yards behind him. They had been gaining ground on him over the last few hours. Their words were foreign to him, but the rage in their howls broke across language barriers. They would accept no surrender and brook no mercy. If they got their hands on his scruff, his head would hang from a pike outside Drakentelt by the time morning came.

Maybe they'd be kind enough to let me freeze to death first, Xavis thought grimly. He pressed on.

This was Svanir Land, and the Sons, with their thick legs and burly frames, seemed undaunted by the snow in their path. Two wielded axes -- one bearing a mighty blade as thick as Xavis's torso, the other clutching two smaller handaxes -- and one brandished a bow. They hollered at him, sometimes taunting, sometimes threatening, but always following. Always, always following.

Quilltrot was out of his element. His slender build and toned physique left him second to none racing across the rolling hills of Ascalon, and he had no doubt that, in more mild temperatures, he would have left them specks on the horizon two hours ago. Across this treacherous terrain, snow coming up to his belly, he wasn't going to outrun them. He could not hide amidst the snow even if he shed his clothing, in spite of his white fur and those blue-gray spots of his; they would track his path easily, if he could survive the exposed minute it would take for them to catch up.

It was no use. He was going to have to outsmart them.

"All right," the charr muttered to himself through clenched teeth. One hand wrapped around his focus, even as he continued to push forward through the mounds of snow, moving him toward the place where he would make his stand. His legs burned, his eyes watered, his body felt numb, but his mind was clear. That was good. He had made this choice before the cold had addled his senses. The mind was any soldier's greatest weapon, a particularly apt adage in his case.

This isn't the first time a mission's gone south, he told himself, sliding the focus off of his belt. It was a small, unassuming thing, a slender rod with a crow's feather sticking from the end, resembling an old-fashioned pen. Keep it together, and maybe it won't be your last.

Xavis shimmered into nothingness, dove behind the nearest barren tree, and waited. The norn men caught up a minute and a half later, coming to a stop mere feet from Xavis's hiding spot. They barked at each other in their native tongue, each word more angry than the last. The biggest of the men -- he who wielded the two-handed axe, naturally -- made sweeping gestures with his hand, prompting protests from his allies. Their argument reached a frenzied boil, until the braid-bearded Son of the two axes caught sight of their target dashing out from behind the tree and making a break for the north.

"Soekja kottr! Lemja kottr!" he cried out, then again, just for the fleeing charr: "Your death comes now, cat!" He lowered his head and barreled through the snow, caught up in a frenzy. The others followed behind, whooping and laughing and jeering. Hardly half a minute had passed before the norn in front had closed the distance between himself and his scrawny fleeing prey.

"Deyja, osterkligr!" he bellowed. Xavis turned, looking up with wide eyes and jaw agape as the norn pounced, leaping into the air and coming crashing down with both axes, splitting the soldier's skull right down the middle.

"Deyja!" he screamed, the frenzied look of ecstacy on his face twisting. He ground the axe, reveling in the splatter of pink blood against the fresh white snow.

"Dreyri..?" His face contorted into a look of horrified puzzlement. His victim exploded into color, pink and purple, blinding the axe wielder. He toppled back onto his arse, crying out in surprise and swatting at his face as a tornado of butterflies swirled into the air. Each made a quiet popping sound as they vanished from sight.

"Frodleikr..." He got up to his feet, looking back to his companions. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he thrust a pointing finger toward the sight of the black-coated charr, retreating south from the tree they had just left. A trick! Sorcery! "Frodleikr!" he howled at his companions, who turned to just catch the sight of the little charr bounding over a snowbank in the direction from whence they came. "Frodleikr!"

The two companions looked at each other, then gave chase, hurtling themselves across the snow-streaked countryside. They gave no notice to their third companion, he of the handaxes, left behind. They had no reason to, because he didn't cry out.

He didn't have time to. The suddenness of the charr as he stepped into view took the wind out of the Svanir's lungs. By the time he had breathed to call, the dagger had already been lodged into his neck, and he could say no more.

Xavis pulled it out with a cascade of blood. He kicked the man's legs out from under him, then stepped back as he went crashing to the ground. The man kicked, spasming, frothing, his eyes whirling. Xavis crinkled his nose in disdain, wiping the blood off on his jacket as the last of the norn's life drained from him.

"Barbaric," he muttered to himself, realizing the necessity of his next action. He spared a quick glance toward the retreating form of the Svanir men, then dropped to his knees. The norn was still squirming slightly, but the paralytic poison had done its trick and locked up his limbs. Xavis brought his hands up to the man's neck, letting the rich, warm blood spill from his neck to coat the charr's clawed paws in heat. It stung, and Xavis winced, but he kept his hands still.

He pooled up the red liquid and splashed it against his face, dripped it on his toes, patted it against a cut in his leggings where a rock had tore it and left a small part of his thigh exposed to the elements. He hoped it would be enough to stave off frostbite until he could find safety. He wiped his bloody hands off on his tunic, not caring to check to see if the Son was still alive, and lifted his head to check his surroundings.

Some sixty yards out, the norn bowman clambored up to the top of the snowbank behind which he had seen his prey disappear. He shielded his eyes, not from the sun above but from below, where the light shone blindingly against the snow in front of him.

At first, the Svanir could see only the still landscape, which gradually declined into the pristine, mostly unoccupied Hraustr Valley. The mountains loomed, all seeming to funnel into this land like a dry basin. Beautiful now, but every norn -- Svanir or otherwise -- knew this land bore the brunt of the deadliest snowstorms in all the Shiverpeaks, at least when Colossus dug its frozen fingers in. The bowman smirked, seeing the tracks leading down into the valley. He considered leaving the little cretin to freeze to death in this inhospitable landscale.

Then there was movement ahead of him, some forty yards out. He caught the sight of a bounding creature of black and white. Instinct took over, and the norn nocked an arrow and let fly without hesitation. "Deyja," he muttered, and he felt a cold smile tug at his beard as the weapon struck his prey right in the back. His companion thumped up beside him, breathing heavily, and he pointed out the area in which his arrow had struck true, finally felling their target once and for all.

"Feigr," he told his partner with smug satisfaction. "Moeta feigr ski banahogg andlat, kerr--"

"Tillit!" the newcomer, and they both bellowed in rage as the cyclone of pink butterflies danced around in a dissipating, taunting tornado.

Back near where the men had splintered off, Xavis broke for the northeast. His head was already pounding hard. He had not managed more than a moment's rest since the day began, and the exertion of maintaining two illusions and a Blink was weighing on him heavier than it should have. But his desperation was a whip, his legs the dolyaks, and intended to run them into the ground if he had to. Perhaps, if he stayed low, he could stay out of their line of sight until--

"Par! Par!" The deep voice yowled behind him. "Fylgja!"

"Burn my tail," Xavis muttered, and pressed on against the knee-high snow.

The norn fell silent behind him, focusing on pushing through the difficult terrain and gaining on the small Ash. Xavis didn't bother checking if they still pursued him. All around him, the world was calm and white, with only his labored breathing to disturb the still of the night.

There came two minutes of relative quiet. Then, the first of the bowman's arrows thunked into the soft snow-touched ground, not ten yards from the charr's tail. He whirled, staring at it, then jerked his head toward the norn just in time to see a second arrow nocked, pulled, and released. With a muffled curse, he dropped to a crouch, hearing the whirr of the arrow overhead.

Xavis turned, his dark eyes wide, seeking out some form of shelter. The air was still, and the Ash knew better than to depend on some chance wind to provide any respite from the Svanir's assault. A forest of ragged, leafless trees sprouted gloomily from the white to his left. To his right, the land curved around a mound, and what seemed like a hill just beyond it. Maybe he could catch some distance on the decline and go from there.

He took a deep breath, focused his will, and Blinked toward the mass of snow in a splash of pink and purple. A third arrow slashed through the cloud left in his wake, prompting a howl of rage from both oncoming men.

Xavis scampered up the hill, clenching his teeth to keep from chattering, and nearly toppled over the edge of a steep cliff. He cried out in surprise, pivoting on his ankle and throwing his hands back to jerk his body weight backward. Snow and rocks tumbled over the side as Xavis scrambled for purchase. He collapsed to the ground and sunk the claws of his hands into the dead grass, pulling himself away from the edge.

"Scorch!" he cursed. His tail twitched anxiously. His heart was pounding in his chest, blood pulsing in his ears. His whole body shook, with chill, with fear, exhaustion, pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears stinging at his eyes, even as the maniacal screams of the bloodthirsty men grew closer, closer, closer.

Another thunk, not two yards away. Xavis saw the arrow hit the snow. He pushed himself up into a crouch at the top of the mound, forced his body to remain still, and waited.

The bowman sneered, and in the white of the early evening, Xavis could see the yellow of his teeth. The man pulled back another arrow, stopping for just a moment to take aim. He let loose.

Not this one, Xavis thought. He jerked his skinny body to one side, letting the arrow sail over the edge of the mountain.

The Svanir wielding a greataxe was thirty yards out now.

Taking wicked delight in the charr agent's cornered expression, he pulled back the string of his next arrow, letting it loose with a bark of laughter.

Nope, the Whispers charr thought. He ducked his head, letting the projectile sail overhead.

Fifteen yards out now.

"Hraezla ugga ybogi!" the bowman cried out. This time, he focused, closing one eye, holding his breath, and letting the arrow fly true toward the dead center of the charr's heart.

Now or never.

Clenching his right paw into a fist, Xavis stepped to one side and punched his arm forward. He swung it in an arc, bringing his arm up over his head and down to his side. His hand left a translucent pink trail in its wake, giving the charr the impression of being half-imprisoned in a semicircular bubble.

The arrow hit the dome, ricocheted, and struck the encroaching norn in his gut.

"M-mein!" the norn cried out in rage and horror, dropping the axe. He staggered to one side, clutching at the arrow lodged in his stomach. "Mein... sarr!"

Xavis ducked beneath his Feedback bubble, dropping into a roll. He popped up from the snow and kicked at the arrow, pushing it deeper into the man's gut. He succeeded in twisting the metal joint, and the norn howled, blood flecking at his teeth. He staggered forward, swiping at Xavis with a clumsy fist, under which the Ash charr ducked. As he swept by, Xavis rammed his clawed fist into the man's side.

The norn stumbled back. He shook his head and opened his mouth to shriek at the charr, before he was bowled aside by a massive black blur and tumbled to the ground.

Xavis had an instant to curse himself for lowering his guard. He started to raise his arms, but had only enough time to take in a quarter breath before the great streak of black and yellow barreled into him, sending them both careening over the edge of the mountain. Xavis was aware of the smell of rancid mead, the slick touch of oily black feathers, the piercing knock of a sharp beak against the side of his head, before his feet left the earth.

The Raven his bow go as they fell. He swatted at the side of Xavis's head, even as they fell downward the cold mountain air. The wind stung like a collection of dull blades against his face. Xavis, now in a full on panic, struggled to separate himself, kicking and lashing and kneeing at the mighty bird to get his hands free. "Get off!" he cried out, furious but feeble. "Get off! Let go of me!"

He felt the Svanir's sharp beak pierce into the side of his neck, and felt the gush of blood hit the biting winter air. He cried out in surprise and pain. He jerked his arm so hard he thought his shoulder might dislocate, but it was enough. He got one arm free from the avian's stifling grasp. He pointed toward the side of the mountain and Blinked against it.

For one terrifying moment, Xavis had the feeling of weighlessness. His stomach leapt up into his chest, and his balls slammed so hard up inside his pants that he thought, for one insane, chaotic instant, that he could feel them in his belly.

Then he began to fall. His arm scraped against the side of the cliff. He clutched for his dagger, almost dropping it in the process. He slammed the knife desperately against the side of the mountain, phasing it just in time to have it slice into the rock. It slid through stone like a spoon through cream, and Xavis clung to the little weapon with both hands as he plummeted to the earth.

He was slowing, but not nearly enough. His head was thumping, his stomach roiling, as the cold biting air lashed at his face. He felt positive his body would have let him thrown up if the need to pant for air wasn't so strong.

"Focus," he gasped to himself, unable to keep the thought silent. He thought he might pass out. The ground was coming up so quickly. He needed to do this now, or he might not have the chance. "Focus -- and --"

He Blinked again, straight down and just a foot toward the rock wall. His body lurched as his momentum stopped for a sickening instant before resuming its downward trajectory. He banged his temple hard against the side of the mountain, feeling it scrape for a meter or more before his shoulder smashed against it, taking the brunt in place of his skull. He wailed from the pain, trying to jerk his arm back and finding he couldn't move it. His forearm, elbow, wrist, backpaw all scraped along the side, leaving a long thickening line of crimson red blood before he could finally twist his body free.

In the swirling terror overwhelming his mind, Xavis felt, in the very far reaches of his adrenaline-addled senses, that even if he survived the fall, he wouldn't be able to move. The cold would take him in hours, if not minutes.

Still he phased his dagger, and still he rammed against the side of the cliff, holding on with his good hand as he fell --

Hit the slope near the mountain's foot --

Tumbled --

Careened off something --

Rolled --

And came to rest, a bloodied, anguished lump of a charr, shaking, shivering, panting.

The world was spinning, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. It caught in his windpipe, but he didn't have the energy to cough, so he gurgled, swallowed half of it down, gurgled again, and spat up the contents of his stomach onto his chin.

He could move his eyes, but not his head. The world was a blur, and the panic of adrenaline was being washed away by, of all things, a great warmth, the comfort of surrender, of involuntary sleep. A great black lump -- the Raven? -- lay in a still mass near the mountain's foot -- not fifty yards away, but it could have been a mile, two, five, twenty.

He rolled his eyes upward. Something was moving. Something big, something -- What color is that? -- the word made no sense to him -- fire? -- what? -- bear?

It moved, hovered over him. It made some sort of low, rumbling groan. Were they words? Was it speaking? Roaring? It was so big, like some gargantuan beast, and the sounds it made sounded bestial and distant.

What difference did it make anyway?

Xavis gurgled a protest before his eyes rolled up into his head, and everything became dark.

*******************************************************************************

Two

_You cry, Oh

But the sun goes down

Every night_

There was darkness.

The light --

Hurt.

It hurt so bad. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew he could summon the light, but why would he? It was agony, in every sense of the word. The dark was comfort. The dark was home, the dark was warmth and peace and solitude. He could stay in the dark forever, where nothing would ever harm him. Nothing would ever ask him otherwise.

He stayed in the dark for a long time. He didn't know how long. He didn't care. He would never hunger in the dark. He would never feel tired, or thirsty, or lonely, or bored in the dark. He would feel pain, yes, but more pain in the light. This, he could endure, because there was always pain in life. Maybe the very act of survival was--

Life?

Hold on.

Survival?

I'm alive, he realized with stunning, shocking clarity. He had fallen off of a mountain and somehow lived.

He was alive. And as soon as he realized that, he knew that it was time to bring the light.

******************************************************************************

Three

_It's hard to think about

What you've wanted

It's hard to think about

What you've lost_

Xavis creaked open one eye, and groaned. He knew it would hurt, but he forced himself to keep it open, even the faintest sliver, until his pupil could adjust. The source of the pain was straight in front of him, and it must have been full minutes that passed before he realized he was facing a great and crackling fire. He grunted, squeezing his eye shut, bracing himself for the act of turning his head.

Pain shot through his neck, and he groaned audibly. He could just roll his eyes his enough to see brown above, or at least, what he thought was above. A ceiling? He rummaged through his addled brain, trying to find the words.Wood?

Something moved. A shift, not ten feet from his snout. A mound of blurry orange. Another fire? Why was it moving? It rose into the air above him. Noise filled the room, burbling like the rumble of a volcano at the bottom of the ocean, echoed and amplified from under water a hundred miles away. A deep rumble, more felt than heard.

Terror shot through the charr. Xavis's heart shot up into his throat as though somebody had jump-started an engine in his chest.

Something was approaching him.

His befuddled brain went into a swirling chaos of emotional overdrive as a burst of adrenaline ripped through his veins.

They had kept him alive to torture him. Without words, without reason, the idea swelled until the only course of action remaining was to get away.

"Back!" he cried out in a slur, suddenly backpedaling from his supine position. His dewclaws scratched and scraped against threads of cloth below him. He kicked at the blankets weighing him down, dimly aware that while one arm was unresponsive, three limbs were enough to muster some distance between himself and his looming beast, this creature, this monster. "No, no! Back off, back off, get away!"

The huge blurry beast made swatting -- pushing -- calming? -- motions toward him. It rumbled again, words -- they were words, Xavis could hear them, but he couldn't process them. What was he saying? 'Whoa', or 'Calm down', or 'Easy easy', but in his delirium they were meaningless. They may as well have been snarls, or screeches for blood.

Xavis pulled himself onto the arm of the sofa, cowering behind one arm in front of him as his legs still kicked at the seat. The world was spinning around. The ceiling was the floor, the walls reversed, and still he cried out, "Who are you? Who--"

He pushed against the arm of the sofa, but his arm slipped. He upturned and toppled over the edge. He crumpled to the floor, head hitting the rug, and passed out.

Orsin Keentooth stared, brown eyes wide. He padded forward, setting his cup of tea down on the table nearby. He hurried around the sofa, bare paws thumping on the rug and wood as he knelt before the little charr's injured, fallen form. "Was it my face..?" he muttered. He scratched the side of his cheek, making a mental note to check his mirror in a minute. Then he bent to scoop the little Ash into his arms.

*******************************************************************************

Four

_And the heart says

Danger

And the heart says,

Whatever it is that you want from me

I am just one small part

Of forever_

The light was easier to find the next time around.

When Xavis came to, he became aware of a pulsing pounding in his head. He winced, slowly creaking one eye forward and watching the room spin. This time, it was easier this time to grab hold of individual thoughts. He had the presence of mind to acknowledge two things:

One, his head was hurting all over, but the pain felt particularly fresh in his right temple. It was as though somebody had clubbed him there very recently and ignored the rest of his body.

Two, if somebody had actually clubbed him on the head, he'd be dead by now. No, more than that. He had fallen from a mountain in the middle of nowhere. He would have been dead if he had been ignored. Somebody went out of their way to keep him alive.

Dimly, he heard a voice. He groaned a response, trying to open his eye a little further. The voice was low and rumbling, but somehow comfortable, like a soft and velvety earthquake.

Soft earthquake? He reflected on that for a moment, and in spite of himself, he felt his mouth curl into a grimacing, pained smile at the absurdity. That's a good sign. I'm sane enough to realize I'm not.

Sight was out for the moment, so he tried to focus on the words that drifted through the air toward him.

"Are you awake?" it -- he -- was saying. "Don't worry, I'm not going to, to hurt you. You're not in danger. Please don't, don't go, don't flip out again. I won't harm you. Can you hear me?"

Xavis tried to breathe in deep, but something was pinning him to the ground. No... too soft to be the ground. A bed, it felt like. He tried to lift his arms, and felt softness along the furs of his bare arms. "Hnn," he replied, and hoped it sounded affirmative.

"Good," he -- yes, he was sure of it, it was a masculine voice -- said. A moment later, Xavis felt something cool press upon his forehead. It moved only slightly, but even in his half-dreaming state, the agent was certain he could feel the pads of a paw. His nose confirmed his suspicions a moment later. He was speaking with, or being spoken to by, another charr. "Don't try to move if you can't. Can you speak?"

"Hnnnnppphh..." Xavis tried again. He stirred.

There was a pause. Then: "Do you think, think you can drink some water? Uh." Another pause. There was a trace of humor in his tone as he added, "Hnnn for yes, oogh for no."

Xavis felt a flicker of annoyance at being coddled. He was not a cub. He steeled his mind, tried to breath in deep, and focused on his words.

"I... am... fine," he mumbled.

He thought it might be too quiet to be heard, but he heard the big charr clasp his hands together. "Burn me," he sighed in relief. There was some thumping as the bestial man moved away, and then the scrape and bump of something being dragged closer. Xavis creaked his eye back open, focusing blurrily on a white object being pushed toward his face. "Can you, can you move your arms? Drink this if you can. I'll give it to you if you, if you can't."

Xavis tried to sit up, and found this time, it wasn't so hard. His left arm seemed less responsive than the other, and it throbbed in pain, but the other was able to lift up to neck height without much problem. He came to realize that all that was pinning him down were blankets, and that his bed was in truth a sofa. There must have been at least four blankets weighing upon him, and he shoved and kicked them down with almost childish disdain. He gradually pushed himself into a sitting position, teeth grit, eyes squeezing against the blinding light.

His vision was gradually restoring, and with it came the rest of his senses. His head was still pounding like the drums of war, but it was a pain he could endure. He could see, he could hear, and he could at least start to speak. He could also smell the makings of something rich and meaty, with a gentle undertone of pine and dust.

The room was full of light, and almost oppressively warm. His ears craned as he scanned the perimeter quickly. A wooden home, of norn building. A cabin. He laid eyes upon a crackling fireplace, with the fire at full roar. There was a humble kitchenette around the corner from the front door, with a few cupboards, a sink, and a pot of something simmering on the stove. Regarding the rest of the room, Xavis could see pictures of valleys and mountaintops, and more than a few photographs -- asuran photographs, or detailed paintings? -- families. Norn families, he noted, not charr, but given the architecture of the place, this wasn't surprising. Wooden carvings of dolyaks, wolves, bears, and other beasts. And a cup of something steaming, being held out to him by one muscular orange-furred arm.

Xavis took the tea, looked down into its contents, and drank. It burned at his tongue, but that was only one more pain. It tasted faintly of cinnamon. He looked up, head lowered, toward the other.

The big charr's maw was pulled back into the makings of a smile. It was a gentle expression, the sort a charr of the Legions would rarely show in public company. Thick brown horns curled up and out from fur orange as a tangerine, brown eyes half-lidded. Xavis could see stripes of white slashing through the nectarine fur, running along the sides of his neck and in part of his exposed arms. Even in a chair presumably meant for the large rumps of hefty norn warriors, the charr's thighs squished against the armrests, and his ankles and hindpaws turned inward. The chair was much too small for him.

A wagon would be too small for him, Xavis mused, his dark eyes scrutenizing the orange charr's bulk. His garb was unlike any Xavis had seen. No, that wasn't quite right. It seemed distantly familiar, yet somehow 'off'. He squinted one eye, peering into the other's face. He spoke his first question.

"What..." His voice was a croak, and he cleared his throat. "... are you wearing?"

The bigger charr blinked, seeming surprised at the question, but he grinned right after. He seemed eager for any sort of conversation. "Oh, you like it? Hreh heh." he asked, sinking back into his too-small throne and thumbing at his vestments. He was wearing leather, and furs of gray and white laced with black string. Snowy soft clumps dappled at his collar and the cuffs, and the tanned hide was a deep, rich brown. The leather was sleek and looked freshly oiled, and in the firelight, it reminded the Ash of coffee spilled across a dirt path. Xavis had figured out the clothing's origin just as the bigger charr confirmed his suspicions.

"It's, um, norn-style." The charr had a light stutter, and Xavis's lower ears flicked every time he picked up on it. His voice was deep and rich, extra rumbly even for a charr, but the way he fumbled over his words was absurd for a charr that big. "No, not 'style'. What I, what I mean is that a norn made it. I traded for it a couple years ago, and she, she tailored it a little for me. She called it 'charrifying'. She was funny like that. She said it wasn't a problem until she got to the boots."

"The boots?" Xavis asked, looking down.

The orange charr nodded, stretching out one thick-thighed leg. The heel of his foot pressed against the rug, dewclaw dabbling against the carpet's pattern of interwoven blue and purple. The big charr leaned forward, showing the oversized boot off. His toes peeked out from the welt, claws and all. "I can't, can't really make my own clothes, though I've gotten better about, about stitching them up. You know there, there aren't many charr this deep in the Shiverpeaks. She said that most clothes, you can get by as one of us if they're big enough, with just a, just a few easy modifications. Even the tail isn't... it's not much of a problem. But the boots, I mean, you know, there's..."

"There's claws at both ends," Xavis responded groggily. He turned his gaze, not wanting to stare at the booted foot directly for too long. It felt somehow impolite. "Why are we talking about clothes?"

The stranger opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and gave the question real thought. When he didn't have an answer, Xavis asked, "Who are you? What's your name?"

The other charr reached for his tea. He held the mug up to his muzzle with both massive hands, pursing his chops together and blowing softly on the surface. "Orsin," he replied at last.

No bandname. Xavis lowered his gaze to his mug. He did so slowly, scanning the other charr's hefty body subtly for any sign of Legion insignia. He wasn't surprised to not find one. He took a long drink of the hot tea, feeling his chest smolder pleasurably. The heat emanated throughout his body, spreading to the sore joints of his arm, his guts, and down to his legs.

"Who are you?" Orsin asked. He shifted his weight again, crossing one ankle over the other. Xavis guessed the charr wasn't used to being crammed into a chair so ill-fitting him. He realized, with a pang of guilt, that he probably spent more time lounging on the sofa Xavis currently occupied. "I mean, what's your name?"

"It's not important," Xavis replied, shaking his head. At Orsin's bemused -- and hurt, Xavis thought he saw. What kind of soft-hearted Gladium gets sad instead of mad? -- expression, he added, "A lot of the work I do is confidential. The less you know, the safer you'll be. Besides, I won't be bothering you long." Another sip of tea. He could feel his voice growing stronger with every sip. "As soon as I'm healthy, I'll be taking my leave."

Orsin's expression softened, and that toothy, almost mischievious grin of his grew back. "It's the dead of, of Colossus out there, you know," the charr replied, nodding toward the window. Xavis followed his gaze, and saw the branches of snow-capped pine trees swaying in the wind. "Haven't you heard of the Hraustr Valley?"

Xavis frowned. He didn't reply, but Orsin caught on.

"We've got maybe two days before the blizzard gets really... really bad out there. Impassible, just about. Even the kodan don't go out when Hraustr's blowing his horn. There's a norn hamlet about... you know miles, right?" When Xavis nodded, Orsin continued. "About twenty miles east, but it's a, it's a long and cold twenty miles. When the Hraustr says it's time to bundle up inside, your next door neighbor may as well be a thousand miles away."

Xavis didn't move.

"If you were, um, healthy, I'd tell you to leave, scorch, right away. Maybe see if you could get out of the Valley before we're cooped up until Zephyr season hits, and the snow dies down a bit."

Xavis lowered his eyes. Orsin glanced to one side, seeming humbled. He shifted his weight again.

"Sorry... I didn't know you were in a hurry. I would have waited. Or, or I would have said this more nicely." He grimaced, knowing the words were awkward even as he spoke them.

Xavis lifted his gaze, frowning. He wanted to remain silent, but the words forced their way out. "What difference would that have made?" He tried to keep his voice impassive, but he could tell there was a note of gloom in his tone. "Sugar-coating it won't make the situation change."

Orsin lifted a hand, then let it drop. "That's what a norn would have done. They're, they're polite like that." A moment's pause. "Norn are all I see these days. And only when I go to town. I haven't seen another charr in a long time.. two years, maybe three, and, and never at this cabin. I definitely didn't expect one to fall off of a mountain."

Orsin grinned, and if Xavis had done the same, it may have even bubbled over into a laugh. But Xavis's ears drooped, flattening against the side of his head, and Orsin's smile faded in response. He lowered his head, shifted his weight again, and lapsed into silence.

There was the crackle of fire, and the wind beating snow against the window pane. Hraust howled angrily outside, but in the warmth of the cabin, the still of the night reigned.

After a long while, Orsin got to his feet. His tail flicked, hitting the chair. He stepped around the sofa, padding heavily past Xavis and toward the kitchen. Xavis watched him go, looking over the back of the sofa. He watched the beast of a man rummage through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. It was a pouch, and the small charr saw his host pour a little light-colored powder into his palm and toss it into the pot.

"I have to call you something." He didn't turn as he spoke, but his deep, thrumming voice had a way of carrying. "I know it's, it's, like you said, it's confidential. I bet you work for the Whispers, or Ash, or maybe both. But even if it's, it's not your real name, I can call you whatever you want." A moment's pause, and he turned his head, not enough to regard the charr behind him. "Besides, there, there would be nobody for me to tell. People don't come knocking on my door even when the snow's all melted. Too far out here, too wild."

Xavis closed his eyes. He took one last, long drink of tea. The warm liquid felt so good running down his cracked and parched throat.

"Xavis," he said, lifting his mug. He rested his aching arm on the back of the sofa, looking toward the big charr's backside and trying not to stare at his rump. "Xavis Quilltrot. Ash Legion, 13th cohort. Lucky guess on my profession. We partner with the Order of Whispers, and that's what brought me out to the Shiverpeaks today."

Orsin laughed. "I knew it!" The sound was rich and calming, and it stirred Xavis even in his misery. He brought a hand up to squeeze and scratch at his nose, hiding his maw.

"It's been a, a while since I was back in the Citadel, but you can always tell who's Ash." The big charr stirred the pot noisily. "Xavis. I don't think you gave me a fake name, did you, Xavis?"

"I owe you that much," Xavis said, exhaling through his nose. He glanced around the perimeter of the room, taking in the architecture. In the back of his mind, without conscious effort, he was marking points of exit, improvisational weapons, and places to seek cover around the living room. "... I owe you more than that. I owe you my life."

Orsin began scooping the contents of the pot into a hefty bowl. The food sloshed around, and Xavis deduced it was stew -- dolyak, if he had to guess, and his mouth watered at the scent.

"I couldn't just leave you out there, Xavis. You would've died. Scorch, if I didn't, didn't know a little healing magic, you might have anyway. And I've always believed that if you, if you don't try to help someone in need, you're, you're basically killing them yourself."

Xavis didn't agree, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Besides, it's going to be nice having somebody to talk with this season." He started pouring the contents into a second bowl. "This, this house's previous owners have board games, and cards, but there are only so many card games you can play by yourself. So I'll get to do more than just, just read and sleep. Plus, you're..." He gestured toward Xavis with his free hand, but his arm froze in midwave. He snapped his mouth shut.

Xavis tilted his head. "Go on."

Orsin brought that frozen arm back and scratched at his neck. He shook his head, focusing on the stewpot. "You might take it the wrong way," he rumbled. "It's probably rude. No, it's definitely rude, I shouldn't, shouldn't have said anything."

"Just say it, Orsin."

"All right. It's good that you're, you're, not huge. You know, for, for supplies. I always store a lot, much more than I need, but if you ate like I do, we'd both be munching on firewood before the snow melted. ... What's so funny?"

Xavis had snickered. It was a quick sound, quickly cut off, but Orsin had picked up on it anyway. He waved it off, embarrassed and kicking himself for revealing even that much.

"It's nothing," Xavis replied. One look at Orsin's utterly bewildered face, and another giggle came welling up. He used both hands to clamp around his muzzle. Just how hard did I hit my head?

Orsin had both eyebrows lifted. His smile was bemused, head cocked like an astonished dog. "What, what is it?"

"I can't explain it," Xavis said, and he fought to keep his voice level, serious. "Ash is the one Legion where it's not bad to be little. They tell us it's easier to hide, easy to dodge, and we're less, I guess you could say, we're less intimidating. People underestimate the small guys, which is exactly what we want."

Orsin nodded, still perplexed.

"Here, none of that matters. You have nothing I want, so I can't use my size to deceive you. It's a small cabin, I can't really hide, and we're not going to fight anyway. Here, my only advantage is that I don't eat as much. Don't you find that funny?"

Orsin's right ears flickered. He grinned. He didn't comprehend the joke, or at least find it nearly as funny as Xavis did, and he said as much. "I don't really get it," he confessed. "But, I'm glad you do." A moment's pause, and he added, rubbing at his black-button nose. "And I mean that. I'm glad. I guess, now that I think about it, I haven't, haven't heard another charr's laughter in a long time."

Xavis smiled at that, and lowered his head.

Orsin made his way toward the living room. He came around the sofa and started to hand Xavis the bowl directly, but seemed to think better of it. He set both bowls down on the table, then returned to his too-small throne. The chair groaned in agony under his bulk. He was the first to speak. "Do you feel all right?"

"Fine," Xavis said, not giving the question much thought. As Orsin peered at him, though, he gave the bigger charr a pointed look, adding, "Hungry." He reached for the bowl and took it into his palms. It felt hot and soothing between his fingers. He idly mused that, while his left wrist was stinging something fierce, it must not have been sprained if it could carry part of a full bowl of stew. "Tired, and my everything hurts. But alive. How long was I out for?"

Orsin was slurping up his stew. He looked at Xavis with cheeks bulging slightly. He hurriedly swallowed and wiped his maw with the back of his hand.

"Almost a day. Maybe a little less."

Quilltrot rubbed the side of his head. "Feels like a week."

Orsin snorted quietly, giving the small charr a wry look. "You'd better hope each day doesn't feel like a week this winter," he rumbled, tail flickering anxiously behind him. "Some days can feel like months when it's dark and cold and there's nothing to do."

"I can't wait," Xavis muttered.

They ate their food in relative silence. Xavis savored each bite. It hurt his throat going down, and sometimes he had to set the bowl down on his lap to rest his arms, but he could feel himself drawing strength from it.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Orsin had downed his whole bowl before Xavis was halfway. He patted his stomach. He's got a musclegut, Xavis realized. He set the empty bowl on the table, folded his hands over his tummy, and sat back in the chair, prompting a chorus of creaks and cries from the poor too-small thing.

They didn't speak. Besides the wind roaring up a storm outside, and the occasional clank-slurp-gulp that comes with eating stew, the two charr seemed content to in their silence.

When at last Xavis had finished, he set the bowl on the table. "Thank you."

Orsin pushed himself up to his feet again, heralding a series of agonized cries from his poor, long-suffering seat. Once Orsin was standing, Xavis could have sworn he heard the chair sighing in relief from the hunter's bulk. Orsin bent over, taking the smaller charr's empty bowl and stacking it with his own. He padded over to dump them in the sink.

"Do you know how to cook much?"

"A little." Xavis paused, then corrected himself. "A moderate amount. I'm no chef, but I know a few recipes.

"That's good." Orsin's tail flickered. He turned, stepped closer to Xavis, then turned toward his room. "I can hardly make more than stew or, or meat-on-a-stick."

"I'll... see what you've got available, and maybe I'll whip up something for breakfast."

"I've got breakfast!" the large charr rumbled, sounding almost excited by the prospect. "I forget to mention that I make great dolyak bacon. Besides, I want you to sleep in. I'll try, I'll try not to make too much noise in the morning."

Xavis felt himself smile. As a people, the charr were many things -- oftentimes even compassionate and caring, despite stereotypes to the contrary -- but his rescuer was a word that he would never have attributed to a charr in all his life. Hospitable. The big charr was hospitable. It was strange, but welcome.

"You don't have to worry about me," Xavis told him. "I'm already imposing enough on you. I don't want to throw a wrench into your routine too."

"A wrench? Burn me." Orsin snicker-snorted, his rows of teeth on full display. "I haven't heard an Iron expression in, hell, a decade, maybe. I forgot how much I liked that one. 'A wrench in'. Hreh heh heh." He inclined his head, then lowered it, a bit bashfully. "I, I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow might be the, the last day I can get to hunt. So. Uh. G'night, Xavis."

"Good night, Orsin." Then, after a moment, in a deadpan: "Sweet pipe dreams."

The orange charr had been padding for his room. He paused, perplexed,and glanced over his shoulder. Once he saw Xavis's suppressed smile, he deduced it was another joke, and worked out the Iron pun from there. "Hrahah... hrahahahahah! Good one!" He was still snickering as he made his way into his room. Xavis could feel the floorboards rumble beneath the couch with every step. When the big charr had closed his door, the Ash sighed, sinking down into his bed. He finally let his distress show on his face.

"Burn me," he muttered. There was too much to do to be cooped up in this tiny hovel all day. His warband would presume him dead. The intel he had acquired from the now-wrecked Svanir homestead would remain undelivered. He could scarcely afford to sacrifice a day off during the slowest of times, and now he was expected to remain dormant for weeks? Months?

He would have to give serious thought toward braving the Colossan storm before it got any worse in the morning. Maybe it's not as bad as the big charr said it would be.

This cabin is a prison, he thought, bringing his hand up to rub his palm against his face. And my warden thinks he's a norn.

Warden? No, that wasn't right. Cellmate. That made it a little more bearable. Xavis nestled his way into the sofa, pulling the blankets up to his neck. His left arm could even move a little bit, which heartened the little charr more.

He seems easy to get along with... hell with that, call it like it is. He's a softie. And he's survived this long in the wilderness. If nothing else, I owe him my life. I wonder if he's...maybe he's...

The thought didn't complete itself. The heavy weight of the blankets and the warm fire weighed on the charr like an anchor, bringing him down into a deep and dreamless sleep.

*************************************************************************

Five

_Even though the living

Is sometimes laced with lies

It's all right

The feeling remains

Even after the glitter fades_

Xavis woke in the morning to the sound of metal clattering on wood. He exhaled through his nose, his ears flickering at the sound of a muffled curse. He had always been a light sleeper -- as was any Ash worth his salt -- and now that he had actually gotten restful sleep as opposed to a dip into a coma, it was easy to rouse.

The fire had almost died out, and the sun had yet to come up, but the room was still light enough to see by. He reached for the back of the sofa with his left hand. He winced as he pulled himself up, feeling the pain shoot all along his arm. But with the pain, there was triumph, because he actually could use it. It must not have been broken.

He peeked over the top of the couch and stiffened at what he saw not twenty feet from his face.

The orange-furred charr's rump was exposed, and what was held between was not left to the Ash's imagination. Orsin's tail flickered irritably as he reached for the spoon he had dropped, and between the hunter's hefty thighs, the loincloth wrapped around his midsection left little to the imagination. The cloth turned around the lump of his bulge like snow over a hill, tucking his bulge up nicely.

Xavis felt his stomach churn, and he gulped audibly.

Hearing the noise, Orsin stood up. He turned with an astonished blink. Xavis could better see the loincloth of wolf fur draped over the hunter's crotch and inner thighs, with a thin string keeping it up as it tied around his waist. The bulge was less pronounced from the front, but everything else was on full display. The big charr's mane was a mess, and he shook his head to push out tangled of brown hair from his eyes.

"Scorch, sorry -- scorch, I woke you up. I thought you'd be sleeping like a log until noon."

Well, I'm up now, Xavis thought. He found himself suddenly relieved he had four layers of blankets over his body.

"Do you always cook in your underwear?" he asked. He hoped there was enough lightness in his voice, but Orsin still looked abashed.

"Yeah," the huge charr murmured. He scratched the side of his neck. His big toes pointing inward. "It's, it's not easy to clean clothes here if I get bacon grease on it, and most of it is a little wet from, from snow, and..." He shook his head. "And I'm -- sorry, scorch. You don't need to see this first thing in the morning."

"I really don't mind," Xavis responded, and it was a drastic understatement if anything. "There's nothing I haven't seen before."

And that was true in one way, but not in another. Xavis had seen other charr naked, of course. Even taking his sexual history out of the picture entirely, he had seen his bandmates in the locker rooms, in the showers, on drunk escapades. Aspects of his training had involved assessing naked charr for critical weak points.

What was unfamiliar to Xavis was the big charr's attitude about it. Quilltrot had seen his fair share of buff, muscular charr -- mostly males, but there were some females who he was sure could bench-press a tank -- who were bigger than most of their brethren, and all of them knew it. Some were conceited, some overconfident, some disdainful, some macho, some rude, and not a single one of them modest.

As Xavis watched Orsin turn back to the kitchen, red in the face as he thumped around the kitchenette, the little charr realized he had never seen another charr both that large and that bashful. It made him seem humble, like he didn't realize he was as big as an ox, even though he had to duck his head to make it through any door in this house built for norn. It gave Orsin a certain earnest vulnerability that Xavis found...

Scorch, don't lie to yourself, Xavis thought as he found his mind try to block off the thought, though he frowned. You owe yourself more than that. You find him attractive.

Xavis tried not to stare at the big guy's hindquarters as the hunter finished up his breakfast task. Before long, Orsin was padding back to his room, hand low keep his loincloth well in place and ensuring that it was covering what it was meant to cover.

"I was just, just getting the marinade ready for breakfast," he murmured. "I'll be back out in a, in a few hours. I really am sorry I woke you up."

"It's -- it's really fine, Orsin," Xavis said, and it caused Orsin to stop in his tracks. It came out more anxious than he had intended, with a slight break in his tone that he hoped the big charr didn't misunderstand. "This is your home. You've gone so far out of your way to make me comfortable. You deserve to be comfortable too."

His blush deepened, but his grin was bright. He rubbed at his neck as he beamed. "Thanks," he told him, with what sounded like relief. "Um, there's water in the cooler if you need it. Help yourself. Or, or holler if you need a hand."

"I'll be fine," Xavis assured him, smiling gently. When Orsin disappeared behind the door, the white-furred charr's face fell flat. He stared down at the lump below the blankets, hardly noticeable beneath the thick furs.

"Scorch," he muttered, rubbing his cheek. This wasn't good. His mind raced with the hundred ways this could go wrong.

He's probably straight, he reasoned. Most charr are. What if he finds out? What if he's afraid I'll bust down his door and force him down on me? Some guys are paranoid like that.

All right, and what if he likes males too? Humor yourself. You can't just bump and go, wham-bam-have-a-nice-shift. You're trapped here. Charr don't make long-term commitments for a reason. How awkward will it be a day later? A week later? Three months? What if things go sour? What if he's not into you? Or not into the same things you are? What if --

What if, what if, what if. Useless questions. Xavis brought his hand down to his stomach. He felt like the nervous adolscent he had outgrown two decades ago. The bulge in the blankekts had disappeared entirely. He felt more nauseous than randy.

It doesn't matter. I'm gone as soon as the weather permits. I need to keep some distance for both our sakes.

He looked morosely toward Orsin's door, and found his heart spiked with wonder at what was running through the big charr's mind right now.

Probably 'how much bacon is too much', Xavis decided, nestling his way back under the covers. His final thought was that it was a question with an obvious answer.

**********************************************************************************

Six

_The clouds never expect it when it rains

But the sea

Changes color

But the sea

Does not change_

Both charr were up with the sun. When Orsin left his room, he was fully dressed, save for his pumpkin-orange handpaws and his head, with hood pushed back. Xavis was half-dozing, only tangentially aware that the big charr's first task was to kneel over him and cast a spell of healing.

Quilltrot had been unconscious the first time around, so he hadn't felt the cool, aloe-like sensation that emanated down from his wounded shoulder as Orsin touched it. It was neither hot nor cool, yet burned with chill like a blast of mint. Not an unpleasant sensation. He murmured his thanks as Orsin finished it up.

"Hreh heh, anytime. I haven't used Healing Spring in a while. Guess that means I had a lucky Phoenix season, didn't need to, to use it on myself. Feels good to stay in practice."

He padded for the kitchenette. Xavis kept his eyes closed until Orsin brought the crackling strips of thick dolyak bacon to the table. They burnt Xavis's fingers, but the charr didn't slow. He ate ravenously, gobbling the bacon down, reaching for his next piece before his current slice was fully chewed.

They spoke little, but Xavis did learn that the cabin belonged to a norn family. This area had once been used for apple cider, and though Orsin didn't tend to the orchard much, he still had plenty of fruit come spring. He didn't eat the stuff, but it made for good bait for some animals. The family had moved closer to Hoelbrak about a decade ago, but claimed that Orsin had made such a great impression on them that, before they left, they said they would be honored if he kept their pictures on the wall.

"Between you and me," Orsin had said grinning, his mouth full. "I think they just, just wanted some part of their legacy to stay with somebody. But I don't have any pictures or, or decorations of my own, so I don't really mind. They were nice anyway."

When breakfast was done, Orsin bundled himself up. As he opened the door, he turned, gave Xavis a sloppy Blood Legion salute -- using the wrong paw, Xavis noted but did not call out -- and stepped out into the snow.

"Back before sundown," Xavis mumbled to himself. He vaguely recalled something about the days being shorter in the Shiverpeaks, and wondered if it was true.

He didn't want to sleep, so Xavis did something he hadn't needed to do in a very long time. He began to clean.

He started with the dishes, wanting to be sure to clean them thoroughly before the dolyak grease stuck to the pan. He scrubbed with lye until the metal pans shone, then went about scouring the bowls, plates, and silverware that had piled up.

His fingers were hurting by the end of it, but it was a good pain. Xavis needed to feel productive even now, and the sight of those sparkling dishes filled him with a simple but curiously filling pride.

Dusting was next. Xavis rummaged around the house, opening closets and finding most filled with dusty implements. He found assorted tools, blankets, stitchings, carvings, toys, books, all mostly untouched by years of disuse. He came across a broom and dustpan and took them out, setting them aside for later use.

He came across a few dusty cloths in the final drawer. Lacking any of the cleaning sprays that were becoming commonplace in the Citadel, he contented himself with dunking the least dirty ones in water and letting them dry. Once he could, he moved around the living room, touching from picture to carving to vase to table, some of which had seemed to collect years of layers of dust. Several times he sneezed.

At one point, he opened up a window, grateful that while it was still snowing outside, the wind had died down considerably. Calm before the storm, maybe. He used a couple books to make sweeping gestures, fanning as much of the dusty air toward the window as he could.

Then it came time to sweep, and this was something of a challenge. His legs were stinging, and his left arm cried out in pained dismay with every rotation of the wrist. Every few minutes, he would stop, wipe his brow, and look back to the warm, inviting sofa. Then he would sigh, and force himself to sweep some more.

He had lost track of time entirely, which he supposed was a good thing. Once the floor was swept to his satisfaction, he leaned on the broom, smiling at his duty. There were a few things yet to be done -- mop the floor, beat the rug, wash the windows -- and this was only considering the main room of the house. The thought of knowing these tasks await him filled him with a strange sort of comfort.

It's something to do, he told himself, and that was true. But he didn't let himself fully form the second part of that thought: And the house's owner would appreciate it.

Xavis took a few minutes to rest on the sofa, rubbing his sore leg with his good hand. He tried to doze, but found that now that he was up and about, his body was too alert for sleep. He watched the window as he rested. The wind had begun to pick up, and the sky was growing dark. Had the hours really passed by so quickly, or was it true what they said about the short Shiverpeaks days? He felt a prickle of worry in his chest, and knew he had to distract himself. So he pulled himself up to his feet, with some effort, and limped for the kitchenette to prepare a meal.

There was a refrigerator stacked against the wall. Xavis looked it up and over, pursing his lips. "What're you doing here?" he murmured, canting his head.

The high-tech device -- an invention of the asura, though growing in popularity within the Citadel and the Reach -- seemed almost out of place in an otherwise rustic cabin. It was probably the most advanced object in the house, but considering how long and impeding the winters were, likely the most essential, too. Xavis reasoned that the hunter must have picked it up recently, and made a mental note to ask about it. There was no electricity, of course, but Xavis fiddled with a panel on the side until it opened up, revealing a pristine Glacial Core humming away merrily within.

"This thing's a couple years old, but it's got at least a decade left in it," the charr muttered, reattaching the panel and pursing his lips. He was no Iron, but he could determine that much. The big orange charr didn't strike the mesmer as much of a genius, but he seemed pragmatic enough, and sensible too. Xavis opened the fridge, found himself a few slices of cheese and some moa pepperoni, and went to work on fixing up a dinner tray.

He was just finishing up arranging the food when the door swung open noisily, with a howl of wind chasing the boots clomping inside. Xavis turned to look around the corner as the huge hunter, bundled up in his leathers, pulled back his mask. He held up three plump squirrels by the tail in one hand and a medium-sized pack in the other, grinning. The pack bulged with what looked to be a bunch of little round things. His teeth chattered as he shivered.

"H-h-hazelnuts," he told Xavis, as the smaller charr hurried forward to help relieve him of his gains. "Found a, a whole b-b-b-bunch of t-them."

"That's good," Xavis told him encouragingly, but there was worry was seeping into his tone. "But you're freezing, Orsin. Get out of those wet clothes. Burn me, I should have kept the fire going stronger."

Orsin rumbled his shivering assent in a low growl, words Xavis couldn't catch. He started to shrug himself out of his clothing as Xavis grabbed the squirrels and hazelnuts and flung them into the freezer. He took a step toward the fireplace, his cheesy meat tray forgotten. He limped over to the sofa toward the fireplace. He grabbed a few logs of fresh chopped wood -- I hope this is enough to get through the season­, he thought -- and tossed it in. He pushed the logs around with the poker until they started to smolder, and the fire flickered and danced up higher in grateful delight.

Orsin had mostly undressed himself, and he threw his wet clothing in a corner by the door. He kept on tight-fitting woolen loincloth, and the melted snow caused them to cling to his brawny thighs. His tail gave a few weak flickers in the growing heat of the cabin, but the way he held his arms against his body and the way he sagged his head made Xavis worry despite himself. "Come warm up," he told the other charr, his voice commanding. "Burn me, you were out too long."

Orsin thumped a little closer. "Had to... to find those squirrels," he responded, and there was pride in his weak voice. "Smelled 'em... found their tracks. I knew, knew they'd be around."

Xavis grabbed at his four blankets and tossed them over the back of the sofa. He pointed at the couch, toward the arm opposite of the one Xavis used for a pillow. "Lie down, before you collapse."

"I'll... brrrr..." Orsin shivered, but shook his head. This close now, the Ash charr could see little droplets of ice collecting at the tips of the thicker furs of his brown mane. "I'll get the sofa wet."

"It'll have all season to dry out. Come on, you're more blue than orange."

This got a chuckle out of the big guy, and he relented. With an apologetic look, Orsin stepped forward and eased himself down onto the couch. It creaked a little under his hefty weight, but didn't complain as much as the chair. The big charr nestled in, trying to fit as much of his burly thick frame into the cushions as he would allow. There was just enough room to host his thick body, though if he wasn't clutching his chest, his one arm might dangle over the side. His feet stopped just shy of the armrest on the other end of the sofa, and Xavis stared. He tried not to, but he couldn't help himself.

Am I really about to do this?

Well, Ash were all about calculated risks.

Xavis sat himself down on the couch, squeezing in between the hunter's massive footpaws and the armrest. Seeing this, Orsin started to bend his legs at the knee to give him more room, but Xavis placed a hand on his ankle, keeping that leg still. It was tight, but Xavis was a small charr. He had room.

"Part of my training for this mission," he said in a calm, clear voice, "Was regarding frostbite treatment and prevention. How much do you know about that?"

Orsin brought a hand up to cover part of his face. He shuddered again, then started to rub his cold fingers together. "Some. Most, most of us out here know about it. First you get numb, and then it hurts bad. Feels rashy. Um. It affects fingers and, and toes most of all."

Xavis nodded his agreement. He slid down into the couch, and one by one he lifted each of Orsin's heavy footpaws onto his lap. He made sure the dewclaws were sticking between his thighs. Each foot was almost as big as the slender charr's torso, and the tips of prickly claws shot as high as the Ash's chin. The paws were plantigrade -- toe-heavy, like all charr -- and his pads were a light yellowish-orange. Clumps of deep orange hair sprouted between each of his four big toes. Each of these mounds of fur was flecked with ice and grass, and Xavis took a few moments to brush away the bits of debris.

"That's right. Your body pushes the cold toward your hands and feet. Evolutionarily speaking, your body decides it's better to lose some fingers than the whole arm. I need to know how bad it is, so it's important that I ask: are your toes numb?" As he spoke, he set the claw of his index finger on the second toe of his right foot and traced a gentle trail down to the pad of his midfoot.

Orsin stirred, and his toes made a slight clenching gesture. He didn't speak, but Xavis had his answer.

"Guess not," Xavis said with relief. "That's good. No frostbite. One thing I found interesting about the training was something I found, well, hmm." He lowered his eyes, watching the subtle twitch and flicker of Orsin's toes as tapped around his sole, testing for numb spots. "Ironic, I suppose. There is one thing you shouldn't ever do to a frostbite victim, yet, if it's not that bad, recommended to help avoid frostbite in the first place." When Orsin peered at him curiously, Xavis went on. "Frostbite causes dead skin, and rubbing it irritates and can make the problem worse. But if you're not frostbitten, then the opposite is true."

Xavis reached out with his lithe hands, wrapping his slender fingers around the bigger male's toe-heavy foot, each of his thumbs pushing against the midpaw. Predictably, the toes were cold to the touch, and wet with melted snow, but it was encouraging when, as Xavis started rubbing into the sole, he could feel Orsin twitch in his grasp. His body squirmed against the couch.

"Er... X-Xav, you..."

"If you're not frostbitten," Xavis went on. It was hard to keep his voice clinical, but he was managing, thanks in no small part to his training. Yes, he genuinely wanted to help his friend, and yes, a post-hunt foot massage for a tired, cold charr was technically a selfless act. But even so, he could feel his own body stirring, relishing in the touch of the other male's big, needy footpaw. There were white stripes of fur along Orsin's legs, but the paw itself was almost entirely orange, save for the sharp white claws and those yellow-tan pads. "Then a massage in front of a fire promotes blood circulation and helps warm the toes up, preventing long-term damage."

"Oh," Orsin replied in a small voice, humbled and strangely intrigued. He slowly stretched his right leg out, pushing it taut against Xavis's kneading fingers. "You don't... mind? Ain't it, ain't it a little..?"

Xavis reached for the left foot and pulled it forward. He tilted his head to take in the full sight of the charr's sole, and he brushed off the little flecks of snow and earth from the fur sprouting between his pads. He pulled the toes back with one hand, just enough to stretch them taut, and began to squish them with that same hand as his other pushed into the charr's big central pad.

Orsin let out a long, rumbling sigh, closing his eyes. His legs parted slightly, and he sank deeper into the sofa, giving more of himself to the Ash charr's knowing touch.

"I don't mind," Xavis replied at last, now gently squishing each of the big charr's padded toes carefully. He started at the base before stroking his way up with his thumb. He could feel the the paws warming up under his touch. A little more dry by the moment, a little more soft. "Ash anatomical studies do prove handy sometimes, you know."

And they did. Reaching for the first foot, Xavis tried something new. He unsheathed his claws and curled them below the bigger charr's central pad, scratching gently along the lower edge. He brought the scritch in to a squeeze right at the center of the bottom part of the pad, where it curled up toward the toes like an upside-down U.

The effect was immediate. Orsin squirmed, his toes clenching slightly, before letting out a quiet grunt at the squeeze. Xavis smirked, placing more and more pressure there until a louder, more surprised groan escaped the big charr's maw.

It was nothing Orsin could help, and Xavis knew it. This part of the paw was a critical weak point -- not well known, and not particularly useful in most combat scenarios, since the bottom of a foot is rarely a valid target in a fight. But he had been taught its value as a vulnerable spot regardless, if only for a complete education. At the time as a youth, Xavis thought the information could come in handy during a torture scenario if push came to shove. He had never had the chance to use the knowledge for that purpose, and it gave him a strange pleasure to use the knowledge now to impart deep, primal pleasure in this frozen hunter instead.

Xavis reached for the other foot, and repeated the process. He rubbed into his toes, then lowered his thumbs, massaging deep into that central weak spot.

"Hnnn..." Orsin let out, his eyes squeezed shut. His leg shifted, toes scrunching, and his chest was rising and falling. His big hindpaws, tough barkers used to easily carry hundreds of pounds of weight for hours on end, felt curiously, enticingly vulnerable in the Ash's grasp. "Sorry," he mumbled, sounding almost out of breath. "I just... I haven't..."

"Haven't had a foot rub in a while?" Xavis completed as his fingers worked at the bases of Orsin's toes, trying to keep his own heavy breathing under control. It gradually crossed Xavis's mind that the big charr had been crammed in his boots and walked for hours, and that while most of the moisture collected on his softening pads was snow, at least some of the wetness must have been a thin sheen of sweat.

He had expected the feet to warm up as he massaged them, of course. What he hadn't expected was, as the charr's footpaw approached body temperature, for the musk.

It wasn't an unfamiliar scent. Unsurprisingly, the room smelled like Orsin. Any charr without a stuffy nose would have known, just by stepping into the room, details about the orange hunter's general age, health, and gender, along with a few other subtler aspects with just a few sniffs.

Up close and stronger now, though, was a new sensation altogether. The charr's scent was growing strong with each twitch of the toes, and Xavis felt his heart pounding in his chest. The resolute maleness of the hunter's scent was stirring him up something fierce. Whether he was shy or not, the physical masculinity of Orsin's hefty body was powerful, almost overbearing. Xavis felt his swelling crotch rise, hardening against his leathers. The bulge slid up the orange charr's right heel, throbbing even as it hurt. Xavis tried to shift his weight and move his erection into a more comfortable position with these heavy feet on his lap, but failed, succeeding only in rubbing the side of his leatherbound cocktip against the big charr's heels. He looked up, suppressing a grimace, but Orsin seemed entirely oblivious to the mesmer's plight.

"Not, not ever before," Orsin rumbled in his deep voice. He sighed again, a low thrumming sound that sent a shiver down Xavis's spine. He was having a hard time keeping his legs and feet still as he pushed and stretched against Xavis's kneading fingers.

The Ash looked up, drinking in the sight of the massive male's muscular, mostly bare body, and licked his lips. Orsin's eyes were closed, and his hand was up near his eyes, or Xavis would have never been so bold. He wanted to lean in and kiss, nuzzle these big, perfect feet in his lap. He wanted to reach out and rub the charr's inner thigh, his chest, his groin. He wanted the poor, tired, handsome oaf was as comfortable and content as he could be.

And he had noticed something of interest.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Scorrrch," Orsin responded breathlessly, rolling his shoulders back against the couch. "It's not... not like anything I ever felt b'fore. It's, it feels, I don't have the words for it. Better, better than great. You really, you really don't mind doing this?"

Xavis opened his mouth to reply, but a loud grumbling sound filled the space between them. All four of the charr's ears perked up as his body stiffened. He thought the couch had started to give way under their combined weight, and he braced himself to go clattering to the floor.

A moment of silent passed. Xavis blinked, looking up as understanding dawned.

Orsin's stomach had rumbled.

The orange charr lowered his paw from his face, and the two made eye contact. A moment passed, and they both burst out laughing. Orsin put his hand over his chest as he roared laughter, almost drowning out the comparatively quiet snicker-snorting of the Ash charr.

Orsin was red in the face before the room quieted enough for Xavis to speak. He patted Orsin's ankle, giving him an affectionate squeeze, before delicately sliding his way off of the couch. He twisted his body to keep his bulge out of the bigger charr's line of sight, a precautionary measure.

The intimacy of the moment had passed, but had ended in such a way that left Xavis feeling satisfied. It was probably good it ended when it did. Despite the desire of his body, he wasn't sure if he was ready to open up the emotional door that the next level required just yet. Maybe he never would. Trying to open that door could potentially make for a miserable few weeks, maybe months.

Even so, Xavis couldn't deny what he had seen, and it gave him a deep thrill in his gut.

Orsin had been erect beneath his loincloth.

Xavis had noted the charr's malehood pushing against his loincloth the moment he found his that weak spot on his foot. While he thought it would be dramatic to call it "throbbing", he had definitely noticed some activity pushing against the confines of his loincloth. Xavis half-suspected the big guy hadn't noticed, but he would soon. Instead of pushing the point, Xavis would feign ignorance.

Some guys are weaker to it than others, Xavis reminded himself. A foot rub's just a foot rub. It doesn't necessarily mean anything.

"Now that you're a little warmer, wrap a blanket over yourself," the smaller charr said. "I was just making us a snack."

Orsin swallowed. He shook his head as though waking up from a daydream. He looked for all the world like a youth waking up from a nap. Xavis turned away briskly, saving the hunter of his impending embarrassment when Orsin finally realized he was hard. The Ash made his way to the kitchenette.

Xavis busied himself pretending to prepare the food further, though the tray was ready to go. He needed a few moments to get his own erection under control, but that turned out to be an exercise in futility. Pressing his boner against the counter, Xavis rearranged the pepperoni a few times, lost in thought.

He realized with sparkling clarity that he could have easily hypnotized the hunter and had his way in any number of ways. Hypnosis was a tricky subject for even the most experienced mesmers, but it was orders of magnitude easier for a tired, trusting subject. Orsin wasn't an idiot, but the Ash agent suspected mental fortitude wasn't one of his most esteemed traits. With the subject having been coaxed with gentle, lulling rubs, even an amateur could have exerted control over the lounging charr.

And Xavis was no amateur. Mesmers were something of a rare breed among charr, a fact which the Orders agent had exploited dozens of times. When a target doesn't expect to be magically influenced, their vulnerability increases drastically. This was as true for assassination and burglary targets as it was for sleepy, shivering hunters.

Quilltrot shook his head. He wouldn't do it. The idea was repugnant to him. Maybe some of his associates in Ash or in the Whispers could fully squanch their moral compasses and exert that same influence on people they considered friends, but not him. He wouldn't bring himself to manipulate the charr who had saved his life. Surely not just to avoid a potentially awkward conversation. Surely not just to get his rocks off.

Surely not just because it would have been so very, very easy.

Xavis swallowed. When he realized his excitement wasn't going down any time soon, he reached for an apron hanging on the fridge and slipped it on. He smoothed it against his body and found the lump in his leathers mostly concealed. Satisfied, he brought the tray back to the living room.

Orsin had curled up under two blankets. He must have been bending his legs, because his whole body fit beneath them. He flashed a grin as Xavis returned, then nodded to the fireplace.

"Hey, do you like to read?"

Xavis set the tray down near Orsin, then followed his gaze. There was a row of hardbound books on the mantle above the fire. They were so dusty, Xavis had considered them for show, and hadn't even thought to read their titles.

"Sure. Do you have a favorite?"

Orsin nodded. He squinted one eye, pointing a clawed finger toward the shelf. "Second on the right. The green one."

Xavis padded over to the shelf. He passed a glance over the titles of the others. A Hundred and One Elonian Nights. The Girl from the Sea. The Wooden Boy. Xavis presumed from the layers of dust that these were the books of the previous family. His fingers slid the indicated book down from the shelf, and he blew on its cover, sending a spray of grit into the air.

"The Maiden and the Monster?"

Orsin nodded, his mouth crammed full of bird meat and cheese. His words came out muffled. "Ish my farvart."

"Isn't this a human book? With kings and castles?"

"Yuh huh."

Xavis shrugged. He looked at the space at the foot of the sofa. Enough room for him, but not a great position to read from, and anyway, the lighting would be better with his back to the fire. Besides, he could use a little time away from those big, tempting footpaws. He set himself down upon the chair that had so noisily protested Orsin's weight the day before, and set the book down on his lap. He slid it closer to the big charr, who looked up at him with brown eyes wide and appreciative.

"I'm really glad you're here," he said, tucking his hands under his head to serve as a makeshift pillow. "I was, was ready for another long, cold season by myself."

Xavis's ears flickered. He looked down and feigned humbleness. "Do you not know how to read?"

He regretted the question instantly, but Orsin seemed to take no offense. He actually laughed. "I know how to read. I'm okay at it, at least. But I like stories more when they're read to me."

Xavis snorted. He was glad he was sitting on his tail in part, because it was wriggling with a mind of its own beneath him. "Well, you're in luck," the Ash charr said smoothly. He lifted his left leg and crossed it over his right, and set the book down on his lap. He opened the cover. "Because I like stories more when I'm reading them out loud."

He cleared his throat, and continued. "The Madame and the Monster. Chapter one. Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle..."

And so Xavis read to the behemoth on the couch, who for the most part listened with rapt attention. He didn't interrupt, and the only sounds he made were chewing noises.

Xavis had never read the story before, but he found himself taken with it. It told the story of a girl from Queensdale, whose father was captured and taken hostage by a wolflike creature described as having 'fangs, razor sharp ones. Massive paws, killer claws'. The young woman negotiates her life for her father's, a deal the monster accepts. He turns out to be almost something of a gentleman beneath the rough exterior, but their blossoming relationship is interrupted by a jealous courter who conspires to storm the castle and take back the girl. It ends on a happy note, with the wolfman being returned to his human form through -- what else? -- the power of love, and the two live in peace, presumably ruling over Kryta for many years to come.

The story was written over a century before the treaty at Ebonhawke Summit was even on the radar, and the titular 'monster' was distinctly canine in its manneurisms and descriptions. Even so, Xavis thought the book could catch on among certain charr circles. He deduced it had struck a chord with the shapeshifting norn, as well, or this book would likely not have found its way into this cabin in the first place.

"'Are they going to live happily ever after?'" Xavis asked, affecting the slightly higher-pitched child's voice he had been ascribing to this character. "'Of course, my dear, of course,'" he went on, imitating a sweet old lady. "And as they looked out over the couple sweeping across the ballroom floor, the child looked up to his mother and asked, "'Do I still have to sleep in the cupboard?'" The woman's laugh was the first of many hundreds more that castle would hear in the years to come, as the Prince and his Princess ruled together side by side, happily ever after. The end."

Xavis exhaled, closing the book. He looked up toward the ceiling. He knew many hours had passed and the sun had long since gone down, but what of it? They had nothing better to do in this growing snowstorm, and besides, the book had, for all the charr's skepticism, proved a pleasant way to pass the time. He felt a little too grown up for the sillier parts, but a couple laughed had been coaxed out of him anyway, and he had found the main characters endearing.

"That wasn't bad, Orsin. I liked the metaphor with the rose throughout the book. When did you first read this?"

When there came no reply. Xavis turned to regard the charr. He smirked at what he saw. The hunter's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open and drooling on his pillow. His arm was flung over his head to give himself an extra couple inches on the couch, and one foot had sneaked its way out from under the blankets. He was completely passed out, and Xavis came to realize that he probably had been for a while. He had been so wrapped up in the book that he hadn't even noticed.

The fire crackled behind him, dancing shadows across Orsin's sleeping form. Xavis sat watching him, the tips of his fingers gently touching the hard leather back of the book.

Orsin smacked his lips in his dreamy sleep. He wriggled his nose in a way that caused a smile to spread across Xavis's face. He stirred but did not rouse.

Xavis turned, glancing toward the big charr's room. Unbidden, his mind considered ways of moving Orsin to his own bed. Enough clones might be able to heft the hunter's weight and transport him over. A portal would work even better, as long as he could slide his hand beneath the charr's bulk to form the circle on the couch.

He shook his head, coming to the realization that he didn't want Orsin to move. He wanted him to stay right where he was.

"Good night," he murmured, settling into his chair. He turned his body in such a way to keep the weight off of his injured shoulder and propped his legs up on the couch. It was a bit uncomfortable, but what other choice did he have?

Cuddle, maybe. He actually chuckled out loud at the thought. As much as he thought the big guy would push him off the couch the moment he was conscious enough to realize, the idea gave him a shiver of warmth that carried him into a restful sleep.

**********************************************************************************

Seven

_What price glory

You make it easy

In the still of the night

How still my love_

Xavis awoke the next day to the sound of the couch crying bloody murder as Orsin pulled himself up to a sitting position. He opened his eyes just in time to see the muscular charr's white-striped arms stretched out way over his head, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his maw open in a rumbling yawn. He smacked his chops a few times as he lowered his arms to his lap, half-lidded eyes opening to lock with Xavis's. The blankets were pooled in a mass around his midsection. He gave the smaller charr a sleepy smile.

"Morning."

Xavis rubbed at his eye. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Better'n... oh." Understanding dawned in Orsin's eyes, and with it, a looming sense of concern that bordered on light panic. He stole a cursory glance around the room, then canted his head to regard the chair Xavis was sitting in. His bare shoulders sank.

"I took your bed," he responded in a glum tone of voice so pronounced that Xavis, in his skepticism, thought at first he was sarcastic. It took him a moment to realize that the realization really had depressed the big charr.

"It's fine," Xavis said with a shake of the head. "This is your cabin, and you looked so--" Adorable. "-- Peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."

"I couldn't help it," Orsin mumbled in that same embarrassed tone of voice. "I was so warm, and comfortable, and, and you have a great story telling voice. Have you done it before?"

Xavis felt his tail try to flick with a deeply felt delight. His neck felt a little stiff, but not bad. He had slept in worst positions while on stake-outs in the past. He wondered how much the massage had helped with Orsin's comfort. "Hreh... No, but I can again, if you liked it. I hope the voices weren't too much. I thought it would add a little something to the story."

Orsin's eyes flickered with delight. His brown mane was a shaggy mess, but from the forehead down, he seemed perfectly awake now. "Those were the best part. You had such a great Monster voice. I like how deep and growly you made him sound."

At some point throughout the night, the book had fallen off of Xavis's lap. He lifted from the chair, bending over to pick it up. "Oh, he was easy. I just made him sound like you." He turned to the fireplace, but not before seeing the happy expression cross the hunter's face. He stepped over to the shelf, lifting the other books to put The Maiden and the Monster back in its place. "Is he your favorite character?"

Orsin had pushed himself up from the couch. Both sofa and charr groaned with the effort. "Oh yeah," he rumbled, his tail giving a little flicker-flick. He scratched at his bare belly, which stuck out just a bit more than the average soldier's would. Preparation for winter, Xavis presumed, as he glanced over his shoulder. Like a bear ready to hibernate. "I like his gruff and angry exterior, but he's really pretty nice beneath. I think a lot of humans would, they would see some charr are like that too."

"He did imprison that girl for weeks," Xavis pointed out, testing how his legs felt. A little sore, a little stiff, but better than he would have guessed. "Starved her, terrorized her father. I'm glad he learned in the end, but he was pretty cruel at first."

"Yeah," Orsin agreed, rubbing his nose with the back of his paw. "I guess I, I just, I felt that the Monster, I think he thought he had no choice. That he was expected to, to act a certain way in front of people. He was wrong, definitely wrong, but I think it just shows that good people sometimes do bad things, especially when that's what people expect of them. And, and I think he learned to, to not do these awful things, when he became honest with himself."

Xavis looked toward Orsin for a long moment. The orange charr hung his head, not making eye contact. He seemed embarassed under the Ash's scrutiny. After what felt like a minute or more, Xavis asked slowly, every word deliberate: "Can I ask how you came to live in this cabin?"

Orsin grimaced. He bit down on his lower lip, lifting his eyes just enough to make an instant's contact with Xavis. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, maw curled into a frown. Xavis waited, his tail still behind him, until Orsin turned away, stepping toward the kitchenette.

"It's a long story, and I don't want to go into the details," the hunter rumbled, leaning toward. Xavis turned his head, watching the mostly naked charr open up the fridge. His embarrassment from yesterday was gone; either he was feeling much more comfortable in the Ash's presence, or the question had distracted him so much that he wasn't aware he was clad only in his loincloth. Using two hands, Orsin scooped out a handful of eggs -- moa, Xavis guessed -- and kicked the fridge shut.

"I guess I, I did something, did some things, that I didn't, that I wished I hadn't done. I mean, they were..." He pulled a bowl out of a cupboard, and began cracking the eggs and pouring their contents in. "They were orders, and they had to be done. I think they had to be done, at least. And I did them. None of us -- my warband, I mean -- none of us were happy, but I think maybe I took it harder, harder than the others."

Xavis took a few steps closer, coming up alongside the sofa. He placed his hand down on the couch's seat, watching the bulky charr work from behind. "So you ran?"

"Not... well, yes, in a way." Orsin's head bobbed to and fro. He was focusing on his work, not looking at the smaller charr behind him. "It was a long process. A lot of the details, I've, I've forgotten. I don't really want to remember. It was over ten years ago, I'd guess. In the end, my Legionnaire and I settled on, on calling it PTSD -- you know what that is?"

Xavis nodded, and though Orsin couldn't see the gesture, he continued. "And I guess, I guess it honestly was. I couldn't, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Everything felt like it was gray. I was miserable. I kept thinking about what I had done. I guess it was the saddest time of my life. I thought of, um." He breathed in, held it, let it out. "I thought of ending myself sometimes. A few times. ... A couple times a week."

Xavis stayed quiet, listening raptly. Orsin took a few moments to sprinkle in some spice to the egg yolks. He turned the stove on, and Xavis could see the flicker of the oven's Molten Core in the reflection of the glass as it quickly heated up.

"In the end, it was an honorable discharge. It was a long process with, with the Core. Lots of, of interviews, lots of paperwork. Many, many of the higher-up Blood Tribunes wanted it to be dishonorable. One even wanted me thrown in the Stockades. He called me a coward, said I had thin skin, that I was a traitor to the Legions. But in the end, I got out, took what silver I had, and, um, and..."

"Now you're here," Xavis concluded.

Orsin hesitated, but nodded. There was the hint of a wry chuckle in his voice as he said, "Well, there's... there's a little more to it, but, yeah. I, I got a cabin, I picked up some hunting tricks, and have been here since."

"Do you miss it at all? The Citadel?"

Orsin began to stir the egg yolks. "There are parts of it I miss. I'm fine living alone, but there are times when I miss the, miss the warband. Miss the, what's the word? The group-love."

"Camraderie," Xavis said quietly.

Orsin looked over his shoulder, flashing a quick, appreciative smile before turning back to his meal. "Yeah. And it's nice not worrying about stocking up for Colossus. There's more to do, as well. But it was more stressful, too. A lot of obligations, not a lot of freedom. There's so much conflict in the, in the Citadel. A lot of charr like conflict, say it keeps things interesting, but that's, I mean, I don't. I don't like to fight, or argue. I am happier out here than I was even in the fahrar."

Xavis smiled, despite himself. His eyes drifted down to the outline of the big charr's rump, his plump cheeks pushing against the loincloth, but forced himself to lift his gaze. It felt somehow disrespectful, even if Orsin was unaware.

"That's what's most important in the end, isn't it?" the Ash said. "Happiness."

Orsin turned to look back at the mesmer, and Xavis could see his brow was furrowed. He had stopped stirring. "I agree..." the orange charr said slowly. But then he turned, giving Xavis a puzzled look. "That's, that is how I feel. But you're with Ash, right? And the Order of Whispers."

When Xavis nodded, Orsin went on. "You've probably done things just as bad." He hesitated. "Not bad, but difficult. Nerve-wracking. I saw the dead Svanir near you when you fell off the mountain, you know. Is that, is that really what makes you happy? I mean, is, is happiness really what's most important for you?"

Xavis swallowed. The question had caught him off-guard, and his instinctive initial reaction was to chide himself for ever lowering it. He bought himself a moment's time by taking a moment to clear his throat. "I feel pride in a job well done, and anxious about the jobs yet to be done. I can't remain idle when there's work to do. I don't know if I'd say doing the job makes me happy, but I do know that not doing it makes me miserable."

Orsin lowered his eyes. His tail gave a little flicker behind him. "You're not doing your work now," he replied quietly. "You won't be doing it for months."

Xavis scratched the side of his neck, turning away. After a long moment, he said, "I don't have a choice. I suppose I'm just going to not think about it. Chalk this up to a forced vacation. But I guess I..." His eyes passed over a mirror, and he frowned at the state of his hair. He took a few moments to run his claws through his mane, smoothing it out. "I can't say I won't be stressed out. During the quieter moments, I may fret about the many things I could be doing back home that I'm not able to. I'll try not to. But I know I will."

Orsin couldn't help but grin. He had started to pour the egg mixture onto a pan on the stove. Once that was done, he began poking at it with a spatula. "I think after a while, you learn..." He shook his head, then started again. "After a while of living by yourself, in a place like this, you learn to exert control over that which, which you can, and to not worry about the things you can't. I used to resent the blizzard, until I learned that it's just, it's a part of life I can't control. Not unless I moved away. And since I want to stay here..." He looked up from the eggs, looking out into the world outside. "I don't worry about it."

Xavis turned his head, looking out a differnet window. The wind was blowing, but not strong. A fresh few inches of snow had fallen overnight. The sight was somehow calming. The world was so beautiful outside. It was comforting to watch from the safety and warmth of this snug little cabin.

A thought crossed Xavis's mind. He turned back to the loincloth-clad charr. "It's going to get really bad, really soon, isn't it? Do you have any more tasks out there?"

Orsin nodded, stabbing at the egg scramble with his spatula. "Just one," he said. "We have enough food and water, even with you here. But I want to chop a little more firewood to be safe."

Xavis's tail flickered behind him, and he found a hint of distress welling in his chest. "Will you be safe? What if you're caught in the blizzard?"

Orsin turned away, but Xavis could see the traces of a sheepish smile dab below the big charr's cheeks. "I'll be in sight of the cabin at all times. There are two, two trees I'm going to cut down. Look, you can even see them from here."

Orsin beckoned Xavis over. The little charr slowly made his way into the kitchenette. He tried to keep his distance, but Orsin reached out an arm and pulled him up next to him easy as could be. Xavis felt his mind hyperfocus on that huge paw against the side of his hip and that thick arm pressing against his back, for the two seconds they were touching. Then Orsin pointed out the trees in question through the window over the sink.

Two lone maple trees, their branches barren, loomed out some hundred yards from the cabin. The snow was piling thick, and Xavis reasoned it would come up to his chest if he were to thump out there, but thought Orsin would be better able to manage with his height.

"I'm coming out with you."

Orsin chuckled, but shook his head. He looked down at the eggs, stirring them up some more. "You shouldn't," he said. "I mean, I, I can't stop you, but you shouldn't. You're hurt."

Xavis kneaded his lower lip with his teeth. His mind ran over the situation as objectively as he could, and he found himself nodding. "Yeah." He grunted, and his tail gave an irritable frown. "I'd slow you down. Besides, if we both got cold, it would be harder for me to help warm you up afterwards."

He was being a little flirtier than he had intended, but the big hunter's bashful response was worth the risk. His cheeks reddened as his teeth showed in a big, cheeky grin. He gave Xavis a half-look out of the corner of his eye before turning back to the eggs. The Ash noted, pointedly, that the big charr did not move away.

"You don't, you really don't have to help me with that, if you don't want to. You don't, don't owe me anything, Xavis."

"But I do." Xavis turned, looking up into the brown eyes of his larger partner. Orsin turned as well, looking down at him, his expression soft. "I owe you everything, Orsin."

They looked at one another for a long, silent moment. Xavis could feel the other's warmth, and knew Orsin could feel his in turn.

He wanted to reach out and tell him something, anything, the risks be damned. It felt so right standing next to him. His resolve was slipping and he couldn't bring himself to care. His gray-spotted arm started to lift, with the intention of reaching out for him.

That was when sudden sharp pain stabbed prickles into his forearm.

"Yeow!" Xavis cried out suddenly, staggering back. He waved his arm. "What the scorchin' hell, did something bite me?" He smacked at his arm, from which the pain had already dissipated. "Wh... oh."

Orsin had frozen in surprise, but his eyes flickered to the pan just as Xavis figured it out. Little flecks of greasy fat had crackled out of the pan, and Xavis inadvertantly moved a half-inch too close. Orsin chuckled it off, and Xavis put on a thin smile, more annoyed than in any pain. The moment had passed.

"Sorry. I should've warned you. Um, well, I don't know about owing me everything," the great hunter rumbled, his voice light for how deep it was. "But if you want to owe me a little thing, you can answer some questions so I can get to know you over breakfast. What's your favorite food?"

Xavis snorted, but obliged. He rubbed the last flecks of fat from his arms, then helped scoop the egg scramble onto some plates. "Citrus salmon, with jasmine rice. You?" He held the plate out for the bigger charr, and once it was taken, made his way back to the living room.

"Beef jerky, the really chewy kind. The norn have this recipe..."

And so went the morning. They talked of food, of places they wanted to visit, of animals, scents, hobbies, books. The one question Xavis wanted to ask most -- 'do you like flufftails or tuftails?' -- was one he kept to himself. He took his time, eating slowly to stretch out the breakfast as long as possible; Orsin gobbled half of his plate down in record time. After fifteen minutes, he excused himself just long enough to grab seconds, and these he stretched out as long as he could.

Over two hours passed amidst a frenzy of get-to-know-you questions, before Xavis speared the final bite of his own egg scramble. His eyes crossed as he held it up to in front of his nose.

"My favorite article of clothing," the Ash repeated, twisting the fork around. He glanced over to the far corner, where most of his clothing had been removed and hung up on a coatrack to dry, then turned back. "My coat. There are little pockets where I like to keep implements. Weapons, pens, sometimes even rations. My focus, too." He nodded toward the door, where his coat was currently hanging. "Now, let me guess." He pointed the tip of his fork toward Orsin, closed one eye, then popped the egg piece into his mouth. "Yours are your boots."

Orsin grinned, a little shakily. He had finished his second plate long before Xavis had finished his first, and now he leaned forward on his thighs. "Why do you think that?"

"Because," Xavis deduced, setting the fork down on the plate. "The norn lady put so much effort into them. You said yourself that everything else was easy to make, but that she put a lot of time and effort into, pardon the expression, charrifying them. And I think you're just the sort to favor them, just to honor the tailor's hard work."

"Hreh heh... well, you're right and you're wrong. My boots are my favorite. But I was just going to, going to say it's because they're comfortable." A brief pause, and he added, "I like your answer more though." He pushed himself up from the couch -- Xavis had taken the chair, partially out of fear that this breakfast would break the thing if Orsin sat in it -- and reached for Xavis's plate.

"Do the norn even use the same boot sizes as charr?" Xavis asked, handing his dish over.

"Uh, maybe." Orsin shrugged, then padded his way around the sofa toward the sink. "She said these are a '26'. Is that a charr number too?"

"They aren't," Xavis mused. "26 would be as big as, hell, I don't know. Big as a skritt, and I mean that literally. The biggest I know is a 15."

Orsin snorted in response. "Maybe they're the same. I got some, got some pretty big barkers," he teased.

Xavis couldn't deny that much. His eyes were low, watching the hunter's bare footpaws press against the rug, then thump on the solid wood as he made his way forward. Xavis got up from the chair only to make his way to the couch. He put his knees on the cushions, leaning against the back to continue talking to his friend. "You know, uh, if your feet get cold again, I really don't mind helping you out. Especially since you said you like it."

"Hreh, um, I do, but I won't be going out again. Not unt --" Orsin blinked, suddenly looking up. He peered out the window, muttered a low curse, then stuck the dishes into the sink. He rushed his way out of the kitchen and made way toward his room.

Xavis shot up in alarm. "Is something wrong?"

"I scorchin' forgot about the firewood," he groaned. He pushed the door as he entered his room, but left it open a crack so they could keep talking. "Burn me! I'm only going to have time to chop down one of 'em now, I think. How bad does it look out there?"

Xavis got up and walked to the kitchen window. The world was covered in white. The wind was blowing modestly, but he wasn't sure it was snowing; the flakes of white drifting by looked like they may have been picked up from the ground or from the branches of dead trees, pushed along by the growing wind. He scratched the back of his head.

"I don't think it's too bad," he said. "Do you really have time?"

"If everything goes right, yeah," came Orsin's called reply. "When I get back, we'll board up the, the front door so the wind doesn't, doesn't push it in."

Xavis looked out the window for a few minutes, until Orsin came thumping out, bundled from head to ankles. His feet were bare, and Xavis watched his slip on the no doubt cold and wet boots near the door.

"I'll be back in just an hour," Orsin promised, his voice muffled by his hood. "If, if you get bored, you can brew some tea. I have lots of tea bags. There are books, too, an'--"

"I'll be fine, Orsin," Xavis said, his voice kind. "Take care of yourself. I'll keep the house warm. I have a couple projects to do anyway. Don't overdo it. I'd try to carry you if you fell, but I'm pretty sure you'd squish me."

Though his maw was mostly obscured by the hood, Xavis could see the muscles of the orange charr's cheeks pull back as though opening his mouth to form a question. He thought better of it, though. He gave a brisk nod, threw the door open, and rushed out into the loud wind.

Xavis trotted to the kitchenette, watching the mass of brown and orange make way for the designated tree.

Clean the fireplace, he told himself. Wash out the sink. Finish sweeping. Mop the floor. Beat the rug. Do the dishes. Do something, Xavis. Don't just stand there staring. He's not in any danger. Be productive.

He stood still. He watched his housemate until the big lug was just a spot in the distance, half-obscured by the passing snow. The hunter was hauling a red-clad wagon behind him. Xavis watched until Orsin stopped in front of the tree, picked up the axe up from out of the cart, steadied his stance, and got to work.

Xavis lowered his eyes, and forced himself to turn the water on to get the dishes started. He couldn't help it. He was worried for Orsin's safety. He knew the hunter had survived over ten winters before, that he was within sight of the house, that he had the sensibility to retreat if the storm got worse. He wasn't going to freeze to death out there, not now.

So why did he still feel so anxious?

"Just hurry back, big guy," Xavis muttered, and lathered up the sponge.

*********************************************************************************

Eight

_I am stronger

Than you know

But I carry

This feeling_

Dishes only took a few minutes. The hard wood of the kitchenette was, naturally, a little messier than the rest of the house, so he decided to start by mopping this area up. He fumbled around the pantry, noting that his limp was a little less pronounced now.

He couldn't find a mop, but he found several scrub brushes and a bucket. Close enough. He poured some lye into a bucket, filled it with water, and got down on hands and knees to scrub the floors.

The time passed quickly, and the Ash was done before he knew it. He took a wet cloth to wipe down the area, and laid it out in front of the sink once he was done. He pushed himself up to his feet, wiped his brow, and allowed himself a quick look out the window toward the brown-clad figure in the distance.

The tree had toppled, and Orsin was currently chopping it down into smaller pieces. Xavis watched for a few moments. Then he fished out a kettle from the cupboard, filled it with water, and got to work on boiling it.

"Scorch," Xavis muttered as he opened up the pantry, his eyes going over what much have been dozens of boxes of tea, most of kinds Xavis had never heard of. Black tea, yes, green tea, yes, but what was chai? What is lemongrass? Isn't pomegranate a type of fruit? Peppermint, cinnamon, ginger, apple, citrus, vanilla, and about a half-dozen different types of flowers. With a half-shrug, Xavis selected a couple bags of pumpkin spice tea, tossed them in the kettle, and set it to boil.

He was just finishing rearranging the pantry as the door burst open, and Orsin thumped in. The whoosh of wind followed him inside, followed swiftly by clatter-rumble-bang of the wagon being hauled into the cabin. The menagerie of sound ended with the loud slam of the door. Xavis leaned over, peering as the charr clad in furs pulled back his hood to reveal frost-reddened cheeks and a big grin. He also saw the cart was filled with a healthy pile of wood.

"Got the whole tree down," he announced, spying Xavis around the corner. "Brrr! Just in time, too. It's starting to pick up."

Xavis glanced out the window, and saw almost nothing but white. He leaned forward and pressed the tips of his fingers to the cold panes, and could actually feel the gentle thump of snow clumps being forced against it.

"Will you, will you help me with something, Xavis?"

The little Orders charr pushed himself out of the kitchenette, his tail giving a little flicker. His mind raced with hope, then confusion, as the hunter shoved a hammer into one hand.

"There's a bunch of nails in the drawer," the larger male grunted. He opened up the closet next to the door, pulling out a large plank of wood. He pushed it horizontal across the door, and Xavis understood what was needed of him at once. "We're gonna put this up because--"

"Because of the wind," Xavis deduced, and Orsin grinned. The Ash had already slid the drawer open and was reaching for a handful of nails. He shoved five of them between his teeth, keeping one in his hand. He nodded to his partner and got to work hammering the plank into the frame of the door. He was no Iron, but Orsin held the plank steady enough that it wasn't a difficult task. Three on the left side, then they swapped placed to hammer three more in on the right.

Once finished, the two charr stepped back, appraising their work. Xavis planted one hand on his hip, twirling the hammer with the other as he would a dagger. "Well," he announced, pride in his voice. "It's no Iron job, but it'll do."

"Hreh heh heh! You wouldn't believe the pain in the tail nailing that thing is. When doing it, doing it alone, I mean." He reached out and ruffled Xavis's mane playfully. "I have to balance it on my, on my knees."

Xavis didn't even mind his well-kept hair being tussled. He didn't mind that the charr's paw was like a giant icicle. He looked up into Orsin's face, pushing his head back just a little into his hand. He opened his mouth to speak just as the tea kettle went off.

Orsin had been turning his head to look down at Xavis, but he whipped it toward the kitchen instead. His tail flicker-flicker-flicked. "Tea?" he asked, hopeful.

Xavis grinned, skirting around the hunter and dipping into the kitchen. "Tea," he confirmed. "Get those cold wet clothes off and let's get you warmed back up. You take any sugar or anything with it?"

"Plain's good," Orsin replied. He was just out of side, hidden around the corner, but Xavis could hear him unzip his coat and toss it in a pile by the door. More articles of clothing fell in a series of clumps and thumps, and Xavis felt his mind drifting, imagining the big charr taking off each piece of clothing one-by-one, each removal revealing inch by orange, muscly inch of the hunter's firm white-furred chest, his robust tummy, his strapping arms...

Xavis winced and jerked his hand back from a burst of sudden pain. He muttered a low curse, realizing he had filled the cup to overflowing onto his hand. He hurriedly worked to clean up the spill and upend a little of the drink into the sink.

Wielding two cups of piping hot tea, he rounded the corner just in time to see Orsin slide out of his pants and kick it into the corner, leaving him clad in only that now-familiar loincloth.

Orsin turned, looking over his shoulder. He cleared his throat as he stood up tall, expression a little anxious. "I'll go, uh, throw on a shirt--"

"You'll get your dry clothes all wet. How much more dry clothing do you even have?"

Orsin had taken a step toward his room. He froze like a deer in a tank's headlights. He put on an uneven grimace. "Uh... I'm not sure. I guess it's, it's mostly all wet now."

Xavis shook his head. "C'mon." He gestured to the living room with one cup of tea, and lead the way around the sofa. He set both cups down on the table, one near the sofa and one across from it, near the chair.

Orsin settled down on his rump, sinking into the couch with a loud exhale. As Xavis stepped toward the chair, though, he inhaled, paused, inhaled again, and spoke.

"You, uh -- that chair's kind of uncomfortable."

Xavis lifted an eyebrow. "It is if you're too big for it."

Orsin snorted at that, his smile still unsteady. His voice, already pretty low to begin with, somehow seemed to go down even further, and Xavis found himself straining to hear. "Well, um, yeah, but, I mean." He paused for a moment, breathed, and collected his thoughts. "It's still a little stiff. You can sit here if you want." He patted the seat next to him, lowering his head just a bit.

A sharp tremor like lightning zipped down Xavis's spine from his scruff to the very tip of his tail. He grabbed his mug and skirted around the table, settling down onto the hunter's right side.

Orsin looked as happy as Xavis felt, and an anxious yet somehow calming feeling stirred within the Ash. He looked up into the other charr's face for a long moment. Then he twisted his torso and grabbed the thickest of the sofa's bankets from the back of the sofa.

"Lift your cup," he said, voice more a command than a suggestion, and Orsin did as bade. Xavis flapped the blanket up, causing a ripple to run along the threads and spread the blanket out. As the sheet came to rest, he nimbly laid it down upon their laps, covering them both below the waist with the soft cotton. Xavis then nodded toward the fireplace.

"Gotta conserve firewood, right?"

Orsin snorted, leaning back against the sofa. He rolled his shoulders back and closed his eyes. Xavis leaned forward to lift his tea mug from the table, stealing a glance at the other charr's bare chest, the deep orange fur fading to a near white in the middle. Tufts of snow-white fur sprouted from his tummy as Orsin stretched his arms up over his head.

"The little, little bits of conservation really add up over the months," he rumbled. He brought his paws down to right in front of his muzzle. He puffed hot air onto his fingers, then rubbed them together. "I wish I had a, a smaller fur coat for you. Something to wear around when the wind is blowing."

"Oh?" Xavis scooched in just a little bit closer, his voice gently teasing. "You mean I can't just walk around shirtless and pantsless all the time like somebody I know?"

Orsin laughed at that, and his cheeks sprouted with red. "Well..."

He blushes so easily, Xavis realized. Most of us got that drilled out of us in the fahrar.

"I guess I'm a little more used to the cold," Orsin decided at last. He leaned forward, sofa squealing, and picked up his tea mug. He held it between his cold paws and blew on the surface. "Usually, I keep this place warm when I can, so I don't need to bundle up. And when it gets too cold to be, to be worth burning the wood, I just, well, I guess I just sleep under a bunch of covers until the wind dies down."

Xavis took a sip of the spiced tea. It felt warm trickling down his throat. "What's the longest you ever slept straight?"

Orsin shrugged, and Xavis could feel, with some awe, the couch move shift slightly with the gesture. "It's hard to, hard to tell. Sometimes it's dark for all but an hour or two of the day. I used to keep a clock in my, in my room, but I think I traded it one year. I'd guess maybe, maybe three days, if you count that, uh... count that, that not sleeping but not awake feeling."

"Dozing," Xavis suggested, and Orsin nodded. "I'll try not to interrupt your schedule too much, Orsin. Maybe sleeping for three days straight will do me some good. Scorch, I hardly remember the last time I got even one full night's sleep."

Orsin grinned, giving Xavis a look out of the corner of his eye. "You mean, besides sleeping for over half a day? You had me worried." He rubbed his fingers against the mug, warming them up.

Xavis conceded the point with a slight lift of the mug. "Unconsciousness doesn't count." There was mirth in his voice, and he found it strange to be able to joke about his near-death experience so soon after it happened. His expression faded as he watched Orsin try to heat up his cold digits. "Are you cold?"

Orsin shook his head, though he kept rubbing his fingers. "Just my paws, I think. They aren't as cold as, as yesterday. I'll be warm soon. Pumpkin, by the way, good choice. I like pumpkins."

Xavis gave the chubby orange charr a 'Really? You like pumpkins?' sort of look, but Orsin blinked back, not seeming to follow the Ash's train of thought. Xavis shook it off. He leaned forward, setting the mug of tea back on the table with one hand, and tapping Orsin's thigh with the other. "Prop your foot up on your knee, facing me."

Orsin lowered his muzzle. That blush again. The Ash could get used to that blush. "Are y--"

"I'm sure," Xavis interrupted, tapping his friend's knee again. "Quicker you lift, quicker you'll be warm."

Orsin chuckled slightly, visibly embarassed, but didn't hesitate longer. With a grunt coming from both charr and couch, Orsin lifted his left leg, crossing the ankle over his right knee. Though covered by the wild-green blanket, Xavis could make out the imprint of the hunter's large toes, and his claws scritched slightly against the cloth. He lifted the blanket around Orsin's footpaw, revealing by inches the plump padded toes, that squishy central pad, the deep orange midfoot, and finally down to his clawed heel.

Xavis took the foot in both hands. He reveled in the smooth, soft touch of the charr's meaty paw. His left hand squeezed below the midpaw, rubbing his thumb into the unpadded orange fur, while his right stroked up the pads and slid between his toes. Orsin's footpaw was a bit chilly, but not at all numb; he could feel the hunter twitch, could feel those ticklish toes trying not to squeeze and mostly failing.

Orsin leaned back, giving off a low, rumbling sigh. He sank into the sofa, taking a long, indolent drink of the hot tea with one hand. The other arm stretched out across the back of the sofa, claws gently prickling. "Hrrrrrrr..."

Xavis massaged him tenderly for several minutes. Save the crackling fire and the unconscious, automatic rumbling growls of the big hunter, the night was still and, so far, quiet. The wind made no noise outside, leaving Xavis to concentrate fully on the luxurious feeling of Orsin's perfect paw.

"Can I ask you something?" Xavis asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hmmm," Orsin assented, keeping his eyes closed.

Xavis wrapped his hand around the big toe and began to squeeze and twist his fist, pressing tight against that squishy smoth pad. "Did you have a partner before you left the Citadel? A mate?"

Orsin rumbled, seeming to mull the question over. It was visibly hard for him to focus. "Hrrm... when I... rrr, when I left, mates were... they weren't something charr did often. It was considered... hhrrrmmm... strange, I guess... or silly, to have a mate."

It was a deflective answer, and Xavis caught it. He gave the other charr a look out of the corner of his eye. "Not even for a short while?"

Orsin shifted his weight a bit. Partially discomfort, Xavis thought, but he was also pushing his foot a little deeper against Xavis's fingers.

"I guess... not," Orsin rumbled at last, shaking his head. His eyes were still closed, and his growling had quieted down. "I'm not a... virgin, or anything, but I guess I've never been, never been very lucky, when it comes to stuff like that."

Sensing the charr's growing discomfort, Xavis redoubled his efforts to calm him. He slid his left paw up along the top of Orsin's foot and pushed, sandwiching the charr's huge paw between his two hands. He stretched his right palm down until it dug into the little crook of his big paw, that critical charr weak point. He kneaded the area vigorously until at last,Orsin emitted a low, involuntary grunt. His body stirred as he let out his air, tipping his head back and surrendering to the Ash's knowing touch.

"Do you have any cubs?" Xavis murmured. He shifted closer until they were touching hip to hip, and slowly looked up Orsin's chest to his chin. "I bet the female charr must have really been all over you."

Orsin's maw was slightly agape, and he was starting to breath hard. He looked down at Xavis with eyes growing wide. Stupidifed, or somehow intmidated. The Ash's trained senses slowly picked up the quickening thump of the bigger male's heart over his own.

"No cubs," Orsin whispered, taking a few moments to breathe. "I don't think. Some of the female charr did, I guess, pursue, or court me, but..."

Xavis's paws left his partner's foot. He shifted even closer, putting more of his weight on his knee. He forced his tail to remain calm, but even so it smacked against the sofa in excitement. The air felt as though it was heating up. The Ash was spying the slow reveal of a weakness, and he made ready to pounce as Orsin spoke.

"I didn't... really desire them back."

Xavis reached out, gently taking the mug from Orsin's hand. The big charr blinked as Xavis set it on the table nearby, and opened his mouth as though to protest, but he said nothing. Xavis settled back against the big lug, curling up against him. The Ash pressed the palm of his right hand against Orsin's left flank, sinking against him into a half-body embrace. He nestled against the hunter, the side of his muzzle resting just below his shoulder, hugging him.

Orsin's body had warmed up quickly. His fur felt so soft. Though Xavis could feel those powerful, rippling muscles of his biceps and chest as he rubbed his cheek along them, the charr's gentle attitude made the smaller one feel so safe.

"I'm sorry, Orsin. You don't deserve to be lonely."

Orsin's arm curled in just a bit. He didn't exactly return the hug, but part of his upper arm pressed a little tighter against Xavis's side.

"Maybe I'm just waiting. Waiting for the right one."

Xavis's paw slid a little higher up Orsin's chest. He opened his hand, pressing his palm against the bigger male's left nipple. He could feel the other's chest rising and falling, could detect the gentle thump-thump-thump of his beating heart. The big hunter, apprehensive yet enthralled, stared down at his fingers, then looked along the Ash's arm to his face.

"Maybe we both are."

Xavis took the initiative. He reached out for the side of Orsin's head, wrapping his slender arm around his thick scruff. He pulled, using the weight of his body to drag Orsin's maw down to his own, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Their noses bumped, and their teeth clashed. Xavis could feel Orsin suck in a sudden rush of air, and knew he was taking in his scent. Xavis pulled at Orsin's chops with his own, curling his arm further around the bigger male's head to pull him in closer, tighter. He tilted his head, closing his eyes as he felt teeth slide along teeth, his muzzle locking comfortably against the other's maw.

Orsin had started to recover. His eyes were crossed as he looked into the closed eyes of the charr burying his snout against him. His body shifted, legs uncrossing and parting, arms reaching out for the smaller charr. Just as Xavis was turning his head, the big guy's eyes rolled upward as he closed them, and his mouth moved against the soft wetness of the other's maw.

The wind rushed past the window, sound drowned by the melding of their joined maws. The crackle of the fire was inaudile over the beating of their hearts. Even the creak of the couch as Xavis slid his leg across his partner's belly was scarcely audible over the growing rapidity of their breaths.

Xavis pressed the advance, pushing his hand up far enough to tussle with the bigger male's mane. His body slid in closer, squeezing, pressing his torso tight against the hunter's bulk. The blanket cascaded to the floor. Orsin may have been twice the charr's weight, but Xavis could feel himself pressing the bigger male back against the sofa.

The Ash stretched his leg across the bigger male's tummy. As he did, could feel his hardening crotch sandwiched between them, rubbing against the soft cloth of his leggings, and felt a shiver of pleasure as he imagined the hunter's own bulge pulsing eagerly inches below him.

Orsin brought his muscular arms up around Xavis's back, pinning chest to chest. He was heating up, and there was hunger in his mouth as he cradled the smaller male against his body, squeezing him fiercely. He pulled back only enough to slide his muzzle against Xavis's cheek, whispering breathlessly into the white-furred charr's left ears.

"I, wanted to do this, days ago..."

Xavis squeezed Orsin back, unable to help himself. A cry of relieved laughter escaped the taciturn Ash's throat, and he thrust his head forward against the side of the other's, nuzzling his cheek. He brought words to his thoughts:

"I was a fool to wait."

They kissed again, their maws locked. Xavis, stradling the hunter to keep himself steady, moved to inch out of his jacket. Orsin lowered his hands to just above the charr's waist, letting him slide out of that coat. He moved in on the new terrain of Xavis's slender midsection, and he ran his tough yet smooth workman's hands over the Ash's exposed back.

A thin string of drool connected their maws as Xavis pulled back. Orsin looked up into the smaller male's face with dazed, aroused appreciation. Xavis smiled, gently placing the fingers of his left hand on Orsin's wet black nose. He placed the slightest amount of downward pressure until Orsin got the hint.

Blinking, the big guy lowered his gaze, just as Xavis went to work with his right hand. The mesmer yanked at the string of his cloth leggings, and began to slide them down his body. The waistband caught on the tip of his erection, and it twanged back up as the clothing fell to Orsin's stomach.

Orsin looked up, astonished. He crossed his eyes as he peered back down at the erect penis hovering inches from his face. He was still for a moment, breathing hard on Xavis's tip. He looked up again, more humbly. Then he lowered his eyes and leaned forward. He kissed the head of the slender charr's penis and brought out his tongue.

Orsin turned his head one way, frowned as though puzzled, then turned it the other. He opened his maw as though to take Xavis's dick in, then closed it, frowning again. He looked up, almost apologetically, then leaned forward, nuzzling the side of his head against Xavis's shaft. He seemed to be figuring it outo as he went along.

The sensation of Orsin's big sloppy tongue running along the side of his dick felt great, and Xavis sighed, lifting his head up. But there was something about it that he couldn't put his finger on. Then it hit him all at once.

He's never sucked a dick before.

The thought rang true as an absolute certainty. Orsin's maw had never been near a penis, and given his size, that probably included his own. The repercussions sank in a moment later, striking Xavis like a bolt of lightning, and he marveled that he hadn't figure it out sooner, because it explained so much.

He's never been with another male before. This is his first gay experience.

The thought sent a tremor of excitement down Xavis's spine. Orsin's movements were clumsy but sincere, and his awkward half-rubbing half-licking maneuvers still managed to send waves of deep pleasure up the Ash's body. He could feel wetness collecting at his hardening tip.

Xavis decided to let the hunter off the hook. He smiled, lowering his head until he pushed the tip of his muzzle against Orsin's again. The hunter looked up, brown eyes trusting, and Xavis slid his arm around the back of his head, kissing him soundly. "That was amazing," Xavis murmured encouragingly against the other's maw, and he felt his chest melt at the little dashes of red across Orsin's cheeks. It wasn't even a lie. Objectively amazing? Probably not. Subjectively? It had been the best blowjob he could remember.

They kissed for minutes more. Then Orsin's body moved, pushing up against Xavis. His arm flexed, with the intention to take Xavis and roll him over onto his back.

Xavis didn't give him the chance. Their maws were still locked, but Xavis's eyes were open. He checked Orsin's handpaw out of the corner of his eye, then reached out to grasp the bigger charr by the wrist. He pushed the male's much bigger arm back against the seat of the sofa, pinning him back down, and shifted his weight to rub against the taut chest.

The little charr was taking control, and what's more, he was banking on the calculated risk that Orsin, despite his size, preferred it that way. His presumption was answered as Orsin let out a long, agonized grunt, and the Ash could feel the couch groan almost as loudly as the bigger charr thrust his crotch upward, churning, seeking freedom from his loincloth confines. Orsin opened his legs, and his scrotum fell to rest at the edge of the sofa. He lifted one leg, then the other, propping his feet on the table and stretching his body out and pushing that aching bulge closer to Xavis's touch.

Xavis didn't want him to keep waiting. He slid down Orsin's body and curled up beside him. He gave one parting smooch, then leaned forward, pressing his cheek against the other's shoulder. Catching his breath, his dark eyes danced down the larger male's chest, across his chubby belly, and to the massive lump stirring beneath his loincloth.

Orsin watched with aroused anxiety as Xavis slid his hand across the white fur of his soft, plush belly. He stopped to rub around his belly button, and this caused Orsin's body to shift against it. Xavis rubbed for a moment, long enough for Orsin to autonomously push his hips upward so hard that his bulge bumped against the side of the Ash's hand.

Xavis splayed his hands and reached, smearing his palm delectably over the lump of his groin.

Orsin let out an aching groan, his whole body shifting as he plowed upward against that proferred paw. His mouth agape, he looked to Xavis with stunned appreciation, his powerful body grinding eagerly against the Ash's paw.

Xavis wrapped four of his fingers around as much of the charr's covered malehood. He protracted his thumb's claw and stuck it between the tied string keeping the loincloth together. With little more than a flick of the wrist, he unbound the string. He gripped Orsin's penis gently as he gathered up the cloth, and stroked down his length as he removed the underwear from his body, revealing the pink prize beneath.

Orsin's erect malehood loomed over his belly, casting a shadow from the fire over the white of his belly. He was thick and firm, proportional to his heavy bulk. It sprouted from his body from a sheath of vibrant orange in a jumble of white pubic fur.

Xavis sighed contentedly at the sight, bringing his paw up to to the dick's base. He slowly stroked his finger up the charr's length, resting upon a small bead of translucent pre collecting at his tip.

Orsin grunted at the touch. Xavis turned, leaning in to kiss the big guy -- a reward for those sensual noises, perhaps -- but the hunter spoke before he could close the distance.

"Xavis, I..."

The Ash held back a moment. He rested his head, watching with what he hoped looked like patience.

Orsin hesitated a bit, clearly flustered, too much blood having pumped from his brain to his nether regions to keep his thoughts straight. He inhaled, and then he flashed his teeth in a nervous, shy smile that set Xavis's heart fluttering.

"I haven't... I mean... Xavis, it's been a while."

Xavis closed his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his smile. He knew exactly what the big guy was worried about. He leaned in until his maw was half an inch from the other's, and whispered, "Just don't hold back."

He covered the distance, kissing him fiercely. In the same movement, he wrapped his hand around the head of Orsin's pink flesh. He squeezed and twisted, drawing as much precum as he could into his palm, then began to drag his paw down the hunter's shaft.

Orsin grunted against Xavis's mouth, pushing forward against the charr's fist. His hips responded automatically, grinding upward, his body tensing.

Xavis squeezed, feeling the bigger charr pulse in his grasp, then began to pump him off. He intended to start soft and build up, but the firmness of Orsin's shaft encouraged him to grip tighter, goading him that much quicker toward the end.

Orsin opened his maw wide into a snarling groan, and Xavis's muzzle slipped a little deeper inside the hunter's mouth. Tongue lanced against tongue as Xavis pressed his body tightly against Xavis's side, gently humping his own charrhood between them.

He sensed Orsin needed to breath, so Xavis pulled back, only to slide the bridge of his muzzle under the bigger male's chin. He checked his own pumping fist, regarding how Orsin's penis throbbed with every downward push. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled against his partner's neck, feeling each thrum and growl and pant as it trembled up his throat before escaping his mouth as noise.

He was so warm, and the fur of his jugular felt so soft and inviting. Xavis tilted his head and kissed into the other's throat. He felt Orsin's whole body stiffen as he squirmed, and he tugged harder on the charr's malehood in response, eliciting a loud array of bestial grunts.

"Grrph... hrrrrph... rrrnnn..!"

Orsin was leaking voluminously now. His precum dribbled down his head and coated the Ash's fingers. Xavis smeared it along his shaft like lubricant, smirking as Orsin groaned with pleasure. His body was plunging upward with renewed vigor. The hunter was doing half the work, grinding himself against the Ash's closed fist to match Xavis's tight up and down plunges.

Xavis felt the roar of pleasure well up in Orsin's chest before he heard it, and he knew what was to come. He nestled his body in, ramming his hips against the orange charr's side to full thrust, bracing himself for the next few moments.

"Rrr... rrrgghh... ggghhppphhhhhhhhhhnnn!" Orsin's clenched teeth opened wide in a roar of ecstatic fervor. Xavis seized the moment, twisting his wrist and pushing his fist down to the base of the charr's cock just in time for him to burst full-force into an explosive, messy orgasm. White fluid gushed from his spire in thick geysers as the charr howled through his climax. Ropes of hot seed splattered all over his chest.

He squirmed against Xavis as he struggled between looking down at himself and keeping his eyes squeezed shut, and so he did not see the mesmer, pressed tightly against the side of his body, watching every gush blast from his penis and spill against the hunter's body. A couple lashes of the warm goo rushed across the little charr's muzzle, and he licked it off.

The couch creaked. The table groaned. Neither could be heard over the agonized groaning of their owner as he finished into Xavis's fist and against his own body. Even as he stopped groaning, Orsin's breathing was so loud that it filled the room with sound, drowning out the fire inside and the wind out. The charr's head was thrown back, his maw hanging open as he gasped desperately for air, trying to recover.

Xavis's body was tight for a few moments longer, clinging to Orsin, squeezing against him even after the orange charr had ceased throbbing in his grip. At long last, he exhaled, sinking against his partner. His fist opened, his clutch becoming a gentle pet as he lovingly stroked Orsin's white-drenched malehood. He smiled dreamily as the big charr managed a few weak, automatic throbs, surrendering the last little trickles of semen he had to offer.

The cabin was full of his scent. A salty, masculine scent. Xavis rubbed his nose under Orsin's chin, and was not surprised to see him leave a small dollop of seed against the big guy's white throat fur. He closed his eyes, putting his left ears down to Orsin's chest. He let the seconds, moments, minutes pass, feeling the big charr's breathing quiet, his heartbeat slow, his penis begin the slow retraction into its orange home.

Orsin stirred, and tried to look down. Xavis moved his muzzle to let him, then lifted it. Their eyes met. Xavis smiled, giving him a gentle smooch just below the nose. It went unreturned, and Xavis made a quiet, curious sound.

"I couldn't, couldn't hold it in, Xavis."

Xavis was so perplexed at Orsin's seriousness, his first instinct was to laugh. A low chuckle escaped his maw before he could swallow it down. He shook his head, bringing his dripping paw up to Orsin's chest. He wiped it off on the dryest patch of fur he could find.

"Sorry? That was -- scorch, I don't have the words for it. Blissful, Orsin."

That blush again. Orsin started to grin, but it didn't get far. "Yeah, but... but scorch, I, I wanted to last longer. I couldn't hold it. It just, it just felt so good, Xavis. It felt so right, I couldn't last. I know I, I finished way too early."

Xavis laughed again, shaking his head. He brought that clean-ish paw up to the side of Orsin's head, pulling him in for another kiss. The big, worried charr tensed for a moment, but Xavis could feel him start to relax as their lips locked.

When Xavis pulled back, he had a smile. "You're thinking like a straight male. You're describing something that's a big deal for female charr," he murmured, gently stroking Orsin's head. "A female knows that if a male finishes early, she may not get to come at all. Sometimes, as soon as a male climaxes, he loses interest in the whole process. Tuftails can be kind of selfish like that. So there's a..." He paused for a moment, testing out the word for understanding. "Stigma against jizzing too quick."

Orsin chuckled, seeming a bit embarrassed at the crass term. But he seemed to understand, so Xavis continued.

"It's different for two males, Orsin. I don't need you to last two hours. I don't want you to last two hours, or my arm would fall off." Xavis flashed a grin, and Orsin, despite his misgivings, returned it. "You came early because you were so turned on you couldn't help it. Because you had so much spunk backed up that it was like we, like we blew up a dam and let the river explode all over the valley." When understanding began to dawn, Xavis flashed him with a smile. "You were so aroused you couldn't contain it. Don't you realize how scorchin' hot that is?"

Orsin raised his shoulders. He bumped his head forward, pressing nose to nose. He exhaled, smiling. "I guess I have a lot to learn 'bout males."

Xavis pressed against that big cheesy grin, murmuring against him, "I guess I have a lot to teach."

As Xavis pulled back, Orsin spoke again. He was visibly calmer now, but there was still a hint of concern in his tone. "What about you, Xavis?" He scratched at his chest. "I got to, got to finish. What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, Orsin."

The hunter frowned at that. He started to stir from the couch, looking down at the little charr reproachfully. "That's not fair. I didn't do anything for you. You should, you should finish too."

Xavis cocked one eyebrow, then the other. He gave off the gentlest of snorts. He started to pull back from Orsin's body, and he lowered his gaze to look between then. Orsin followed the look, and found the area between them coated in white. Xavis's half-erect penis hung from its sloppy sheath. He had been so wrapped up in experiencing Orsin's orgasm that he had been only distantly aware of his own concurrent one as he humped against the big charr's side.

"Don't worry about me," he repeated in a cool tone of voice. "I can take care of myself."

Orsin opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened, closed. He reached down his body, biting down slightly on his tongue as he scratched indolently at his balls. Then, looking up, he said,

"I'll go get a towel."

*******************************************************************************

Nine

_Maybe it's only a dream

I don't want to feel that

It's one more link in the chain

And I don't believe that_

"Check."

Orsin tapped at the side of the bowl housing some cracked walnuts. Eyes on the board, he picked one up between two claws, rolling it around against his fingers.

Xavis sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his lap and watching Orsin with a smug expression. He waited patiently, hardly stirring.

Orsin readjusted his loincloth. He wore nothing else, but in the heat of the newly stimulated fire, Xavis could see the faint beads of sweat glistening between his orange fur. The charr gave Xavis a narrow-eyed look, bite his tongue, and leaned forward. He picked up his bishop and slid it across the board to protect his king.

Xavis had predicted that exact move, and his initial instinct was to pounce, snap up the newly exposed knight, and claim another piece in this war of wooden figures. Instead he waited, pretending to mull over all of his options. He kept his fingers folded across his lap, giving off a gentle humming noise.

He moved after half a minute, sliding his rook across the field and taking his kill. Orsin let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing the side of his head.

"Scorch," he groaned. "How are you so good at this?"

The little charr flashed a grin. "Chess is a popular recreational hobby with the Order. They say it hones the mind toward a field of battle and encourages one to think strategically. I think," he continued, settling back into his chair. "That's a load of bull, and I want to see the army who only moves one guy at a time." As Orsin snickered, Xavis grinned. "But I enjoy it all the same. Whether or not it's practical in real combat, it does encourage the players to think three or four turns ahead."

Orsin grumbled, shifting a pawn forward. A passive, time-killing move. "Were you with the Orders, the, the moment you got out of the fahrar?"

"Before then," Xavis replied. He had his next move ready, but didn't take it yet. "During the fahrar. Charr have been a part of the Order for much longer than the cease-fire, you know."

Orsin canted his head slightly. "I didn't," the big charr said. He leaned forward on his bare knees, seeming interested. "I thought it was new. Made for the, um, for the dragons."

"Not quite," Xavis said. He pushed his black bishop across the table, threatening both of Orsin's knights in a single move. "It started in Elona. Not very long after the Searing, if I remember that right."

"Oh." Orsin's voice was glum, having just noticed the precarious predicament of his pieces. He tapped at his chin, frowning. "I guess your friends in the Order miss you. Don't they? Do you think they're out looking for you?"

Xavis bit down on his lower chop, mulling the question over. After a long moment, he shook his head. "Possible, but I doubt it. I, uh..." Instinctively, the charr glanced toward the door. He didn't like going into detail about his mission operatives, even when the danger was virtually nonexistent. "I sort of... blew up a village."

Orsin gawked.

Xavis grinned mirthlessly. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Svanir homestead. The Svanir have a weird relationship with the norn. They aren't like Flamers, you know, you can't just kill them on sight. Some Svanir are civilians. Idiots," he added, to which Orsin busted into laughter. "But civilians nevertheless. Some, though, some end up raiding hamlets or terrorizing innocents. I was tasked with blowing up the watchtower of a settlement with a particularly bad reputation. I... took it a step further, and ended up taking out an armory and supply shed as well."

Orsin blew out a puff of air, the charr's equivalent of an appreciative whistle. "But some of them chased you off a mountain, and now you're here."

"Yep."

Orsin looked down at the board. He popped a walnut into his mouth, then advanced his pawn forward, threatening Xavis's knight. "Leave my knight alone, and I leave yours."

Xavis snorted. He had such an overwhelming piece advantage that the trade heavily favored him. He pressed the attack, snapping his bishop forward and securing that knight.

"He had a mate an' cubs," Orsin noted with mock sadness, shoving his pawn forward and yanking Xavis's own knight away. The chess board was a human model, with men and women depicted in wood, but Xavis chuckled at the joke regardless.

"I'll be sure to attend his funeral." Xavis tapped his knee for a moment, then tapped a pawn forward to threaten a potentially dangerous position. "Point is, Orsin, the Svanir probably think I'm dead. The Order does too, and I think that's for the best. Maybe they won't waste time looking for me. As long as that blizzard is going on outside, I've got no way of telling them otherwise, and they might kill themselves if they tried to find me."

Orsin watched Xavis for a moment. The Ash appeared calm on the outside, so it came as a surprise when the big charr said, "I can, can tell it's bothering you. I hope you don't, that you don't miss your friends too much."

Xavis snorted, waving off the concern. "My superiors like me because I do good work, but I don't exactly have a lot of friends. I don't have time for it."

Orsin nodded. He advanced his white rook with the intention of getting it out from behind a mass of his other pieces. "But you had a partner, right?"

Xavis opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced to one side, frowning, then forced himself to look back at the chessboard. He made a noncommittal half-shrug.

Orsin took another walnut, though he was watching Xavis. "If... you have one now, you can, you can tell me."

Xavis seemed almost startled. He looked up, then shook his head vigorously. "Scorch, no. Burn me, no, not for years. I wouldn't... hey, look at me." Xavis rapped the chessboard with his knuckles, staring across the pieces until Orsin looked up, humbled. "Orsin, I wouldn't deceive you like that. I know that's what Ash do. It's what Orders agents do, and what mesmers do. We lie, cheat, trick. I won't deny it's true. But I will not lie to you, not about something like this. All right?"

"All right." Orsin nodded. He tried to look serious, but the lacings of red dabbling across his cheeks gave him away. "... Will you tell me about him?"

Xavis gave him a look. He frowned. "This isn't a jealousy thing, is it?" He slid his rook to one side, snapping up a pawn. "Check."

Orsin cursed quietly at the dead soldier, then shook his head. "It isn't." He looked up, saw Xavis was regarding him, he shook his head more vigorously. "It isn't! I swear it, Xavis. I know this is, that this, that we are temporary, that whatever you, and me -- whatever we are, it's just while the snow falls. I just..." He lifted his shoulders, then moved the remaining knight in to block the rook's path. "I just want to know more about you."

Xavis crinkled his nose. He bought himself some time by reaching out for a walnut. He squished it between his fingerpads, then tossed it into his mouth. Salty, crunchy. Tasty.

"It was maybe... five years ago that we parted, but we had known each other for about three. We were, scorch, I don't know." Xavis bumped a pawn forward. There were better moves, but he was stalling for time. "Together for a year, maybe. He wasn't much bigger than me. I didn't really think the whole... single partner, 'mate' thing, could work, and I thought that my peers wouldn't respect me if I took one on. So we kept secret about it."

Orsin nodded, but stayed quiet. He moved a pawn.

"I had partners before, and I have had some since, but he was the most," Xavis said, crinkling his nose. "Impactful. I think I thought I loved him, but." He exhaled through his teeth, motioning his bishop over. "Check. I don't think so anymore. I was afraid of leaving him. He was, well." Xavis frowned, scratching at his chin, trying to find appropriately gentle, vague words. "He was rough with me. I guess 'abusive' is the right word. But it doesn't feel right, you know? He didn't hurt me so bad that I couldn't take it. I mean, now I know..."

He paused for a moment. Orsin watched him, frowning with concern, but he didn't speak until Xavis continued. "Now I know that 'abusive' doesn't always mean physical pain. He fostered a dependence in me. I was scared to be with him, and more scared to leave him. A little scared of what he would do to me. More scared of what he would do to himself."

Orsin watched Xavis speak, his brown eyes wide. He moved his queen into a staggeringly foolish position. A cub could have realized he was sacrificing the game, and Xavis wondered if it was intentional.

"I thought I needed him, and I thought he needed me. Sometimes need is just that, Orsin, it's a necessity. But sometimes, the need itself is an addiction. Sometimes charr relish their obsessions. They cling to them, like the addiction is part of their identity. And some can wean themselves off gradually. But I am the sort..." Xavis lifted his rook, shoved it forward, and knocked the white queen down. "Who goes cold turkey. Checkmate."

Orsin blinked, looking down. He gave off a little snort, more impressed than upset or angry. He conceded with a gentle bowing of the head, still not wanting to interrupt.

"I'm leaving out the details because I guess I hardly remember them." Xavis sank back into his chair. He glanced at the fire crackling merrily away, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I've boiled them down over the years. They're just distant memories now. Hell, not even memories. Impressions. I don't think about him often, but he did change me. I did learn a lot about myself."

Orsin lifted from the couch amidst the usual cries and weeps. He stepped forward and descended onto one knee. Xavis stared at him as the big charr reached out with his massive paw. He settled it down upon Xavis's own hand, and the Ash could see the charr's paw was nearly as wide as his torso.

"You don't deserve to be mistreated, Xavis. You're a, a good person. I hope you remember that even when you get back to the Citadel."

Xavis snorted. His mind wanted to think it was cheesy, that Orsin was just being polite. But there was such earnesty in his words, that Xavis, who made a point of not lying to himself, felt his heart lifted. He turned his hand just a little beneath Orsin's. "How are you so sweet?" he asked. "How has this world not chewed you up and spit you back out?"

Orsin chuckled. With his free hand, he made a gesture around the windows of the cabin, where the blizzard raged outside against the near barren wilderness.

"Because I left the world behind," he rumbled. He squeezed Xavis's paw, and lifted to pull the smaller charr out of the chair. "C'mon and help me with dinner."

**********************************************************************************

Ten

_On a life already lived before

In eyes welled with tears_

Compared to the living room, Orsin's room was austere. There were no paintings on the wall, and the open closet was sparse, with only a few scant articles of clothing. As Xavis looked around the room and settled upon that barren wardrobe, he wondered just how much of Orsin's clothes were currently laying in a wet mass near the door.

His eyes wandered across a desk, one of the room's few bits of furniture. What he saw there seemed to surprise him. A series of wittling tools lay strewn across the desk, and a chunk of wood with the bark stripped off stood tall in the center, rising tall toward the ceiling.

Xavis turned to Orsin, who was busy smoothing out the many soft-looking sheets of his bed. "You do woodcarving?"

The larger male looked up, then glanced toward the desk. He flashed that grin of his. "I didn't say?"

Xavis shook his head. He thumbed over his shoulder. "Did you do the ones out there?"

"I did," Orsin confirmed. He brought his hands down to his loincloth. Xavis could see the slight hesitation in his movements, as though, even after their going at it just hours before, the big charr was still embarrassed to be seen fully naked. But he thumbed his loincloth down to the floor, and went knees first on the bed before settling against the pillows.

Xavis followed suit, pushing his undershorts down to the rug and clamboring up onto the right side of the bed. He wasted no time, brushing his left arm across Orsin's chest and sliding in for a long kiss. He was already learning to turn his head just so to avoid the hunter's big teeth, and he marveled again at how perfectly their sharp canines slipped between the cracks of their partner's, as long as he tilted his head just right.

They kissed for what felt like a long time. Xavis rubbed Orsin's chest and stomach, occasionally reaching just far enough to glide his hand over the bigger male's firmness. Neither charr seemed in a hurry to escalate, and why should they? They had the whole night. They had dozens of whole nights ahead.

Xavis started to slide more of his body across Orsin's, mounting him once more. The bigger charr stirred, pressing his hips upward. But he also craned his mouth, managing to grunt out a soft, "Hey."

Xavis pulled back. He lifted his paw, gently brushing a bubble of wetness from his partner's lips. He didn't speak, but his face was attentive.

"Can I, can I ask something dumb?"

Xavis smiled. "Shoot."

Orsin looked down at the slender charr, who could fit most of his body across the orange charr's upper torso alone. He hesitated before speaking, his voice low and grumbling, like the tremor of the earth.

"Should I be on top?"

Xavis lifted an eyebrow. The question brought with it a faint, but very real, sense of distress. Had he miscalculated? "Do you want to be on top?" he asked.

Orsin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He seemed to give the question real thought. Then he shook his head. "No," he finally said. "But should I be? Doesn't, isn't that what the bigger charr should do?"

Xavis leaned forward and kissed the big charr on his nose. His tail gave an excited flicker behind him.

"Sometimes," Xavis said as he pulled back. He asserted more of himself over the big charr's body, and felt him move beneath him in response. "Even normally. Most of the time..." Here, Xavis's voice dropped an octave. He furrowed his brow with mock intensity. "The big strong brute bangs the little scrawny runt."

Orsin snicker-snorted at his voice, and Xavis grinned, returning his tone to normal. "He dominates the smaller one. He bends him over a table, or grabs him by the scruff and forces him down onto his crotch. And it kind of makes sense, right? He has all the power. He's bigger. He has the strength and size to exert himself."

"Right," Orsin rumbled slowly. "That's a 'top'." He looked almost proud at the knowledge.

That was the basics of the basics, but Xavis supposed he should give credit where it's due. "That's right. Brute tops, runt bottoms. That's just usually..." He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Not even 'usually', but commonly. That's commonly how it pans out."

Orsin nodded, seeming to follow. "I thought it was always like that. Maybe that's why I..."

Xavis flashed the makings of a grin. "It's why you never thought you wanted to hit the sack with another guy, right?"

Orsin blinked, then exhaled. He didn't speak or nod, but it was as good as an affirmative.

"You thought only a male charr bigger than you be able to get you going. And, well," Xavis raised an eyebrow. "There aren't a lot of charr bigger than you. A partner would expect you to be that 'brute'. They'd expect certain things of you based on your size, things that would have felt intimidating for you. Or, if not intimidating, at least something you wouldn't have interest in. Am I right?"

Orsin shook his head, but not denying the words. He seemed almost winded. "H-how did you know that?"

Xavis chuckled, then reached out, grabbed his arms around each of Orsin's wrists. He pulled each of those thick, muscular arms back, feeling a thrill rush down his spine. He could feel the raw power in those limbs, and he knew with unyielding certainty that the burly charr could have effortlessly pushed him back. But Orsin did not resist. He was surrendering himself to the force and confidence of Xavis's personality... and, the little Ash supposed, to his own self.

"They expect things from me based on my size too." Xavis was towering over the big guy now. He pulled the orange charr's wrists together, pinning him to the bed. "Most other charr don't understand me. They underestimate me. I don't need to top, Orsin. But I do need to be in control."

Orsin was breathing heavily now. He squirmed, and though Xavis couldn't see Orsin's crotch, he could feel from the motion of the big charr's body that he was getting pretty aroused. He swallowed. "What's... the difference?"

"Well," Xavis murmured softly. His voice was a sultry growl. "Let me ask you something." He motioned forward, sliding his muzzle along the side of Orsin's cheek. "If I were to tie your hands and feet to the bedposts, who would be in control?"

Orsin swallowed, then puffed for air. "You would," he breathed.

"And would that make me a top?"

"Y-yeah."

"All right," Xavis confirmed. "What if, while you were tied up, I massaged your body? What if I rubbed every inch of you I could get my hands on?" He could hear the gears clicked in Orsin's head. "What if I stroked you off? What if I took you into my mouth and sucked you off until you finished inside me?"

"Nnnnhhh... hffff..."

"What if I kept my pants on the whole time, Orsin? What if I never touched myself? What if I didn't even want to come at all? What if I was concerned solely," he breathed on Orsin's ears. "Utterly, completely, with your pleasure, but was taking control in order to provide it?" He took the orange charr's lower ear into his mouth, sliding his lips off with a satisfied smacking sound. "Would I still be the top?"

Orsin didn't have an reply. Xavis knew it was because the question had no simple answer, but he preferred to think the big charr was so utterly turned on that his higher brain function had ceased. Xavis let go of Orsin's arms with one hand, keeping the other locked in place. He curled his arm around the big charr's head and turned him so they were face to face. He leaned in, kissing him soundly, and being kissed in turn.

"There may be times," Xavis murmured as they pulled back. Orsin was fully lost in Xavis's eyes, his expression dreamy. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he breathed hard, and the little charr on top could feel his body rising and falling beneath him; Xavis rose and fell with it, like a slowly bucking bronco. "When I'll want you to take me in your mouth. When I'll tell you to take me from behind. Sometimes I'll need your help getting myself off. But not most of the time. Most of the time, I can take care of myself. And most of the time..."

Orsin was slobbering by now. He kept his hands up over his head, squirming beneath him. He nudged his muzzle forward, desperate for a kiss, desperate to taste the Ash above him. Xavis pulled back just enough that the big charr couldn't reach him -- not without lifting his arms, and Xavis's own single scrawny arm along with it, which he seemed unwilling to do.

Fast learner, Xavis thought.

"Most of the time, I will want to revere you, and all I want in return is for you to enjoy it. How does that sound?"

"Yuh -- Yeh -- yeah," Orsin panted, rubbing his chest against Xavis's body, desperately reaching for another kiss.

Xavis held back just a moment longer. He relished the sensation of control every bit as much as he felt affection toward the kind-hearted, handsome buck he was currently stradling. He thought this last part might be a bit much, but decided to go for it.

"You deserve it."

He crossed the distance between them, letting the big charr's hands go. His kiss was gentle; Orsin's returned sloppy, desperate, hungry. Xavis lowered his head a little more, sinking against the upturned muzzle. The hunter wrapped his arms around the little charr's back, pulling him in. Xavis could hear Orsin's dewclaws scraping at the bed, could feel the bigger charr's legs open as he pushed his hips upward. He noted, with some satisfaction, that while Orsin was clearly strong enough to force Xavis further down his body toward his no-doubt aching groin, he made no effort to do so, despite what must have been an agonizing temptation to do so.

How the hell did I get so lucky? Xavis wondered, and let the thought drift away.

He lowered his muzzle, pressing his nose below Orsin's chin and lifting him up. He pushed forward and pressed his tongue to that exposed neck. He slid down the bulky male's torso until he could feel his balls dragging on the soft fur of the hunter's belly, and knew Orsin's cocktip must be mere inches away from the Ash's tailhole.

"Urrrr.... rrrrrnnnpphhh," the big charr groaned, his tongue coming out of his mouth as he tilted his muzzle to the ceiling. A tiny speck of froth flew from his mouth and hit the window, where the world was white and howling. It was freezing chaos surrounding this single point of warm comfort, and it made Xavis want to hold Orsin even tighter, burying himself into the supine male's warm, furry chest.

Digging his knees into the bed, just barely able to stradle the hunter's bulk, Xavis pushed his rump back. He glanced over his shoulder and shook his tufted tail until it was out of the way. He stole a glance back at Orsin, who through his panting seemed dimly aware of what was about to happen to him, then crossed the distance. He felt the tip of Orsin's penis brush against the pucker of his tailhole, and the hunter instinctively knew what to do.

Lowering his arms, Orsin held Xavis by the sides as he plunged upward. His shaft slid along between the smaller charr's cheeks, dabbling his furs with a thin sheen of moisture. His second thrust also missed, but his third found the mark. His cockhead slipped inside the Ash's tailhole, and his immediate throb provided the precum to allow him to glide further inside.

"Hhh... hhhhhhnngh..!" he groaned, his claws pricking at the sides of Xavis's hips as he plunged inside him, fitting half of that thick shaft into his body in the first thrust.

Xavis winced, having to steel himself. He was out of practice in this department, and Orsin was going in mostly dry. But it felt good, and it was such a rare treat for him to be on top that the deep pleasure, as emotional as it was physical, easily overrode the preliminary pain. He began to grind his hips against the hunter below him, and was rewarded with a low, sputtering moan. He could feel Orsin pulsing around and leaking inside.

The powerful charr on bottom started his humping arhythmically, without order to the intensity or frequency of his upward thrusts. He was eager, but inexperienced. Xavis gave him a few moments to adjust to this new sensation. Then he dug one clawed hand into the bed, made eye contact, and supported himself as he rode the hunter's shaft. He set the rhythm, and a slow, devious smile crossed his face as Orsin naturally responded in kind, pumping upward against the smaller charr's backward bucks.

"Good," Xavis cooed, licking at his chops. He could feel his erect penis sliding along Orsin's belly, could feel the soft and luscious furs tickling his frenulum. Orsin's own malehood pressed just right against the Ash's prostate as he slid around inside him, and Xavis let off a long, contented sigh, barely audible over the bigger charr's steadily growing grunts.

With Orsin entirely on his back, only a single pillow supporting his head and nothing below the shoulders, Xavis could not pull himself close enough to kiss the big oaf's muzzle, so he settled for stroking his chest. He slid the fingers of this free hand through the downy white furs, kneading his pectoral muscles, rubbing on and around his nipples, stirring the big guy up even more.

"Xa -- Xavis," he gasped, thrusting his hips to full extension and holding it there for several seconds at a time. "Xav, I'm -- it's --"

"Don't hold back," the mesmer murmured. He jut his buttocks back against Orsin's dick as he sidled his chest forward, pushing back against him with all his force.

Orsin clutched as him, his dagger-like claws piercing his back as he grunt-gasped, slamming himself upward with abandon. His thickness swelled and slid around inside Xavis, squeezing as much inside him as he could muster, the bed rocking with each upward thrust. "Hrrrph -- nnngh -- rrrrggggghhh, ggggrrrphhh, rrrrrr!"

He was loud, drowning out the much quieter sounds of the little Ash, whose whimpers were gentle and infrequent. This was by purpose. Xavis's heart was fluttering, his guts churning with erotic delight, his whole body warmed by those huge protective arms wrapped around him above and the rapidly expanding and deflating snow-furred chest below him. He wanted to cry out in joy to echo a chorus against the masculine snorting and snarling of his partner. But he was as silent as he could be, hearing Orsin's heartbeat and the particular cadence of his cries. As such, Xavis became aware of the howl heralding the orange-furred charr's orgasm, starting in his lungs and rippling up his throat, before Orsin was himself. His knees locked, eyes closed, and he braced himself for the inevitable.

Orsin's thunderous roar filled the cabin.

His hips locked, and the claws of his feet found purchase in the bed as he forced his hips upward, slamming himself inside Xavis with all his might. The mesmer could feel his insides filling up with wet heat that felt close to boiling, and he uttered a little cry into his partner's chest. He widened his stance further, allowing another half-inch of that pulsing, spraying spire to advance inside him.

Orsin's grasp was oppressive, and Xavis could feel his lungs begging for air he couldn't muster, sandwiched as he was between the charr and his vicelike grip. He could feel the wetness spilling down his insides, and a shiver ran down his body as he felt the trickle of seed dribble down the back of his ballsack.

His own dick throbbed and tightened, and a grimace of pleasure crossed the little mesmer's face. He pressed his hips forward, sliding the underside of his penis along the hunter's upper belly, and came in a splattering rush, plastering their pressed chests in lines of viscous white seed. He had to pull back, forcing himself up from the hunter's body only long enough to take one staggering, throaty gasp before letting it loud in a long and aching groan as he came back down against his body.

Orsin finished a moment before Xavis did. His hips remained locked, and his shaft pulsed uselessly within the wet cavern of the mesmer's tailhole. He remained still, holding his partner close as the little charr shot the last burst over the big guy's belly. Orsin gulped air down, trying to get his body to settle. He creaked an eye open, peered down at the squinting mesmer, and gave out a soft, satisfied whine.

He pushed his muzzle forced, another little whimper escaping as he reached for Xavis's face. His grip had lessened a bit, particularly his claws, but his fingers still tugged at the light charr's tight buttocks, pulling him closer. Xavis relented. He shuffled forward, feeling Orsin's maleness slide along inside him. His tailhole wrapped around the very tip of the other's penis as they met in a kiss. Orsin's was desperate, hungry, affectionate, appreciative. Still excited, still impassioned.

Xavis's was more reserved. He felt drained. Hot, pleased, immensely satisfied, but spent. He wanted a few moments to catch his breath, to lie there against Orsin's chest in the first moments of the warm afterglow. But he could hold off on that a little longer, for the hunter's sake.

They didn't kiss long. Xavis pulled back when he had enough, and he slid his muzzle quickly beneath Orsin's chin to prevent any further advances. He could feel the big charr gulp and breathe. He braced himself one final time as Orsin -- with a little help from his arms and from Xavis's own shift of the hips -- dislodged himself from the other's tailhole with a slick, satisfying pop. As last, his body relaxed as he gave off a long, tender sigh.

They were silent for long minutes. The dark night blustered overhead, slamming flecks of snow against the window pane. The room was more cool than the living room, having no fireplace, but neither felt the need to grab a blanket. They held each other close, eyes closed, two warm, still bodies on a cold winter's night. At last, Orsin broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

Xavis made a little assenting sound. He didn't move or open his eyes.

"Does it hurt?"

Xavis grunted, a mildly confused sound.

"The, uh, the -- what we just did. Does it hurt?"

Xavis snorted, and the amused sound gave him the energy to stir from his dozing. He kept his eyes closed, but opened his mouth to speak. "You mean, anal sex?"

He could feel Orsin nod, and had the impossible certainty that the big guy was reddening again. Xavis snorted once more, then considered his answer.

"A little bit. It can be hard to get used to at first. But a lot of things make it hurt less. Practice, lubrication, being on top..." He snorted again, finally opening his eyes. He moved his head forward just barely enough to make a hint of eye contact over the charr's muzzle. "When your partner's not built like a tree."

Orsin grinned at that, a little sheepishly. "I was surprised. I thought you'd use your hand again. Maybe your mouth. I don't get, I don't understand... um, I don't know how to put it."

Xavis snorted good-naturedly. He wondered again how the big lug could stay so naive, and he marveled at irresistably charming he found it. "You think it's not enjoyable for the one getting screwed?"

Orsin bit his lower lip, but nodded. "Having, having." He shook his head, then tried again. "Having something up the butt doesn't, it doesn't seem like it would feel good. Just painful."

"Well," Xavis said, pulling himself up more onto Orsin's chest. He was adopting a more matter-of-fact tone. "It's actually very pleasant, if done right. Do you know what your prostate is?"

Orsin grimaced lopsidedly. "I've heard of it," he said slowly. Xavis could hear his tufted tail give a flicker before coming to rest on the bed.

Xavis nodded. He was once again glad that Ash fahrar training had such well-developed biological and anatomical classes. He knew that Iron charr learned physics and calculus. As a fleeting thought, he wondered if Bloods had any academic training at all.

"The prostate is a little organ near your bum and balls. It secr... it produces semen, and helps you ejaculate." He idly wondered if this discussion of male anatomy was a major turn-off, or was in some peculiar way, kind of erotic. But Orsin seemed interested, so he continued. "When you stick something inside your tailhole, if you push it in just right, that thing rubs against your prostate. That whole area is filled with, ah, erogenous zones that just feel... It's hard to describe, but just know that it feels great."

Sensing the conversation may be getting too clinical, he snuck in a kiss, and smiled as Orsin reddened. "There's an emotional side too. Feeling somebody you," he licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. "Somebody you have a connection with, having them inside you is emotional fulfilling as well as, well, physically. You know what I mean?"

Xavis could see a light turn on behind Orsin's eyes, and he smiled. That last sentence was the one that had really gotten through to the big guy. "Ohhhh," he rumbled, nestling back against his pillow a little more. His brown eyes wandered down Xavis's slender body, seeming to mull this new information over. "... I guess all, um, hhrrrm. I guess gay charr do that a lot, don't they?"

The words seemed to still make him, if not uncomfortable then at least awkward. But he was trying his damndest to understand, and Xavis felt his chest warm again, wanting to encourage the big charr's comfort. He reached out, placing a hand on his cheek.

"Not at all," he answered. "A lot of gay charr don't like to do anal. And incidentally, a lot of straight charr do like to, and I mean both giving and taking." He saw the confusion in Orsin's eyes, but only grinned, deciding to let the hunter ponder that one for himself. "I'll be honest. It's not one of my very favorite acts. It's fun, it feels great, but even at its best, it's never comfortable to receive it. Especially if I'm not the one on top and can't, you know, regulate how fast or how deep it goes."

Orsin nodded, seeming to understand. "I don't have a favorite yet," he rumbled, his voice slow and careful. He lifted his paw to mirror Xavis's own action, setting that huge mitt against the side of the Ash's cheek. "But, I'm, I mean, I want to keep trying, with you."

Xavis nuzzled his cheek against that palm. The thought to say something sweet and sappy was overwhelming, and he could feel the desire to do so churning in his stomach. But there was a note of sadness deep inside, too, a pang of melancholy. He held the sheer pragmatic notion that he had to maintain some distance with this charr, this big sweet oaf with whom he would have no choice but to leave behind in a few month's time.

So he said instead, his voice teasing, "Well, then let's keep trying. We have to try everything in the time we've got. So sometime soon, I'll do you up the butt so you can see how it feels."

Orsin swallowed, his expression intimidated. Even his fingers seemed to stiffen against the side of his head. The reaction was so sudden, and so comical, that Xavis had to burst out laughing. He couldn't resist himself. He slid forward, wrapping his arms around Orsin's head. He kissed him soundly, two, three times, and didn't stop until he felt the apprehensive charr kissing him back.

"Don't worry," he whispered, pulling his head back. "There are ways to start slow and gentle, and we can stop anytime. But you won't want to."

"Okay," Orsin said, his voice peculiarly brave. "I'll be, I'll be ready when you are. I'm trusting you, Xavis."

"I won't let you down," Xavis told him, and they kissed until, one after the other, they fell asleep with their bodies pressed. And the blizzard continued to rage overhead as they filled the cabin with warmth.

-- End part 1 --