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Southern Free Agents

Ch 6 - A Game of Minutes

Back in the city state of Archibald's birth mining was a large industry. Not only were metals drawn up from the earth, but all kinds of precious gemstones. A good third of the city worked in the mines but Archibald's family was far above that; they handled the gems and made quite a good living at it too. The smooth furred Mink grew up in the lap of luxury, owing it all to the miners. Regardless, he hated being underground, and that was no more true than on the steps of the Temple of Ethali, goddess of Ethica, a small city state on one of the three least prominent western islands of the archipelago.

The Sufa Union had uncovered a plot by the city's rival state of Braltiir to blow up their sacred shrine and the sappers had nearly gotten away with it-- the plan had been disrupted by Archibald and his group, but at great cost: in order to protect his companions from the triggered blast, the Mink had pulled all of the explosives out using a tidal wave of water. The resulting explosion had been kept controlled thanks to the water surrounding it, but there was enough force to vibrate the entryway apart, causing it to all come crashing down... right on top of him.

Being swept up in the waves, Archibald was no otter, but he had an intimate familiarity with water, being naturally inclined toward the element, and he protected himself with a flash-freeze, sealing himself away in an icy tomb interspersed (and nearly crushed) with large amounts of rubble-- some jagged stone and some shattered rock. He'd lost consciousness due to the sheer energy required, but awakening didn't help him much: the small void in which he found himself surrounded by dirt was lit faintly by the waning power of his Moonlight Scepter, a relic he'd obtained so many years past.

The illumination provided him a clear view of his predicament: he had survived only because three large rocks had created a 'lean to' of sorts, sheltering him from the rest of the detritus and slag which had fallen down upon him when the entrance to the temple had collapsed. Shattered shards of ice peppered the area, creating a scintillating mirror effect, causing more light to fill the small space than from the scepter itself. It did not take long for him to assess his situation, but he did take a few extra seconds since he was hesitant to look at himself. When he finally did, he felt justified in his hesitance.

The Mink had always prided himself on his fine clothing, which had obviously been a horrible casualty of the cave-in but, worse yet was the physical damage done to his body; the fact that his crushed leg had gone numb was a bad sign but he pushed through the shock, forcing himself to take stock of the situation. Archibald was in a half-dome shaped opening in a collapsed stone archway about three feet in diameter by one and a half ft in radius. Worse still was the fact that his body was suspended half way between the ground and what had become his ceiling.

Only once that thought had crossed his mind did Archibald pause again-- the pressure on his leg, the discomfort of being suspended over the ground by his pinned legs and the discombobulation of having been buried alive left a very real problem for him: he didn't know which way was up. The Mink had heard of the underground confusion being a common trait among miners who had been trapped in a cave in, or hikers buried in an avalanche, but he had never really given it that much thought.

Suddenly faced with the realization that he couldn't take anything for granted and that his passive thoughts were not reliable, Archibald elected to solve one problem at a time, and that meant starting with the easiest: finding out which way was up. Fortunately, he had a very simple solution. Working up a small amount of saliva in his otherwise dry muzzle, the Mink let it dribble down his tongue and---

He determined that the flat portion of the void was the ground, meaning he was facing down. It was a first step and it didn't help much but it was a good foundation upon which to start working toward a solution. A solution which would hopefully result in him surviving the ordeal. Yes, he decided: not dying would be the preferred outcome.

What did that mean exactly? He took stock of the three biggest threats to his survival from most imminent threat to least: the rock shifting and crushing him, bleeding to death, and running out of air. There were things he could do to address any of the three, or perhaps even all three, but, at the same time, actions he took could possibly increase any of them-- or all of them. He took a shaky breath, and then reminded himself to remain calm; not staying calm would only increase the threat of all three and that was not desirable.

Realizing that he only had so much control over threat number one, Archibald resolved to be mindful of the status of the rocks, but elected to address problem two first. He was no master of healing or anatomy, but the Mink knew enough about bodies to realize that not all wounds bled out of the body and that some injuries could be internal. Having always approached healing from a magical point of view, he was familiar enough with the ebb and flow of life to be able to gauge his own relative health, and that was where he began: he would assess himself with the least amount of exertion possible, biding his time and remaining calm until he could verify that he was not in danger of immediate death from blood loss.

Having all but exhausted his supply of mana in the protection of the temple, Archibald felt the tell-tale headache start behind his eyes and in his forehead, identifying clearly that he had pushed himself too far. Keeping his expenditure to the tiniest of trickles, the Mink sent general scan through his body, identifying superficial bruises and cuts, but no real injury until his inspection got down to his leg; he barely managed to avoid crying.

He knew that his leg had been crushed, but until he actually took the time to see just how bad it was he had been able to delude himself into thinking that it was salvagable; seeing the angle at which everything lower than his knee bent at the exact wrong angle, and the shattered bone piercing his pelt, Archibald knew that it was more than serious; without aid it would be fatal in the short term, especially with the amount of blood forcing its way out of his body. His health immediately became the greatest concern.

As the Sufa Union's premier healer, Archibald was no slouch when it came to healing magics but the kind of taxing effect the act of challenging magic had on the body meant that even the most skilled casters were at a great disadvantage trying to heal themselves. There was also the fourth rule of healing spells, one that had been drilled into him time and time again: magic did not fuel the healing, it merely accelerated it. The worst wounds required massive amounts of food and water be ingested by the patient so the body could do its work. The mink, sadly, had lost his rations in the cave in.

Giving himself the most helpless and ineffective pep talk he had ever managed, Archibald stated with irony "Well Archie, you always wanted to lose a few pounds."

A body's ability to heal itself depended on biological functions, which meant if he didn't have food then his body would cannibalize itself in order to gain the energy it needed. The Mink didn't relish the thought of becoming emaciated, especially since it would have an adverse affect on his luxurious fur, but it still beat the alternative of DYING LIKE A PAUPER IN AN UNMARKED GRAVE. Gritting his teeth, Archibald focused, forcing the mana to come to him-- first, to ease the pain so he could focus, and then to do what he could about his wound.

He felt the energy seep into his body at the same time as it was seeping out. The effort put forth to make his wound close with magic was nearly as draining as the toll it took on his body to speed the recovery. Worse yet, he realized, he wouldn't be able to properly heal his leg, further increasing the likelihood that, if he was saved, it could very likely never heal properly. Pushing the thought from his head, he reinforced his will to survive by reminding himself it wasn't a matter of IF he survived-- he WOULD survive, and THEN he would worry about his head. Step 1: stop the bleeding so he could survive long enough to get out of the cave in and THEN he'd worry about the longer term issues.

It turned out to be just as difficult as the Mink had imagined; he must have spent at least twenty minutes working on the wound but, after a seemingly insurmountable exertion, he was content to see that the bleeding had stopped-- he could tell with his eyes that no more blood came out of his body, and his magic was able to determine that none was pooling where it shouldn't be inside of it. Only once he finally let out a sigh of relief did he realize that everything around him was going blacker than it already was.

Gritting his teeth, Archibald cursed himself for completely ignoring rule five of healing magic: a patient would need rest, and nothing would stop them from getting it. Forcing a body to rapidly regenerate damage not only required a large amount of food energy, but it also exhausted the patient. Damning his lack of foresight, there was nothing the Mink could do to maintain consciousness and he drifted off into blackness reprimanding himself.

* * * * * *

Regaining consciousness was usually a gradual affair for Archibald; he was used to sleeping in and taking his time rousing in the morning. He was also fond of long naps during his day off which would often turn into a sleep marathon with back-to-back trips to the world of dreams. When he finally awoke from his magic-induced downtime, however, it was immediate, and his sleep ended the same way as it had started. "I can't believe you are SO stupid!"

Once he had his self-reproach out of his system the Mink pushed the remaining cobwebs from his mind, focusing directly on his three big problems: rocks shifting and killing him was still an issue; running out of air was an even more pressing problem; at least he'd resolved the concern of bleeding to death. Looking at the remaining two concerns, the Mink elected to handle the suffocation risk, and that was no small problem.

He could have used any number of magical divination spells to uncover details about his body's ability to handle the stifling, stale air, Archibald instead elected to save his mana reserves and spend his time gathering information using care, logic, and comprehensive assessment. Unable to tell exactly how long he'd been unconscious, Archibald instead chose to focus on what he DID know, and that meant taking stock of his predicament, for what was probably the fourth or fifth time, but he instead focused outwardly instead of inwardly.

The Mink was no air mage but he did know some basic details about enclosed spaces and their ability to support life for an extended period of time. What he knew was that they did the exact opposite; air which could not circulate usually resulted in death. Not exactly an alchemist, Archibald was aware that certain elements could be transmuted into other elements, and what he had to work with was water. Water, he knew, could become Air.

Malik, the Sufa Union's alchemical specialist had spent lengthy periods of time talking with him about many subjects and, thankfully, transmutation had been one of them-- the act of changing water from a liquid into a vapor and, during the process, creating air. Having the ability to summon water, Archibald had the first part of the equation complete, but he would need a container of some sort, specifically a metal one with a lot of surface area.

Limited on options, the Mink was, nevertheless, pleased to see that his shield was within reach and, with some effort, he managed to stretch far enough to wrap a single finger around one of its leather strap. He gave it a tentative tug, mindful of what effect it could have on his precarious shelter from the slag above him. Fortunately he was able to pull it closer before it finally came to a stop; the edge of it was caught beneath some rubble and attempting to move it any further could have, as he often chose to euphemistically phrase catastrophic fall out: 'adverse results'.

Letting out a steadying breath, Archibald pushed aside the thought that it felt like he was gasping for air and instead focused on resolving the issue. There were many ways to transmute elements and most of them involved utilizing other elements. He knew that the easiest way to change water from a liquid to a vapor would be to use Fire but, unfortunately, Fire was well known as a consumer of Air, so that only complicated his issue (not to mention that, as a Water Mage, the Mink had a horrendously poor connection to Fire spells). Thinking carefully back to the discussion he'd had with Malik, Archibald remembered the proper answer.

The Gecko had been talking to him about ways to change Water, not only to a vapor, but to Air proper, and that required transmutation via what was called a 'harmonic force'. The natural combination of Air and Water was a force known as a Storm (he capitalized it in his head, as was proper for scholastic dialogue, but he quickly berated himself for the needless distraction). One of the energy forms put off by the strongest of Storms was electricity. Drawing Water from Air in the form of rain in any great amount gave off large amounts of electricity; to draw Air from Water, one needed to ADD electricity!

As skilled in magic as he was, Archibald was still not a master of elements outside his own affinity. He'd managed to channel electricity before, but usually with the aid of one of the other Union members. What that meant was that he had quite the effort ahead of himself, especially since he could still feel the fatigue of mana exertion. One thing he knew would help, however, was that he had access to metal-- not just the shield, but also his Moonlight Scepter which, itself was magical; it would be an incredible benefit if he were to attempt the next step of transmutation.

The scepter lay just beyond his reach, which was inconvenient, but the Mink was able to resolve that situation with a careful summoning incantation; since it was attuned to him he could draw it into his grasp with only a slight exertion. Once he had his fingers wrapped around it, he smiled, addressing it. "Okay, old friend... time to make this work."

The scepter and shield were a matching pair and he'd had them for years. The attunement he had with them granted him more than just the ability to call the scepter to his paw; he used them as foci in spells. As magical items they facilitated him in channeling and in the case of changing his innate focus of Water magic into electricity they would be invaluable. Utilizing his knowledge of the many forms of Water, Archibald concentrated on steam, mist and fog as he began to will mana into his scepter then slowly lowered its flanged head down to the shield. The Mink felt the static pop the very same moment a faint, blue spark flashed between the two pieces of metal and it was accompanied by the fresh scent of ozone.

It wasn't until he saw the miniature bubbles begin to form along the metal surface of the shield, however, that Archibald finally began to feel the relief in knowing that he was successful. He was certain not to lose focus, however, as channeling was not a simple one-and-done form of spell casting; the Mink had to concentrate, focused in a way that was not unlike meditation, except far more active than passive. The bubbles continued to rise from the water as he maintained his effort, knowing that his math was correct; as long as he maintained his channeling he would be able to create more air than he used.

The problem, however, was whether or not he would be able to maintain the exertion as he drained his inner reserves of mana, and that was a computation he hadn't wasted time making. Whether he could keep it up indefinitely was beyond the point; he had to continue for as long as he could because every minute of air he created was a minute longer he could survive as the rest of the Sufa Union sought to rescue him. In the end, he had to do what he could while trusting that they would do the same. The would certainly not give up on him; of that he was certain.

He maintained that outlook for what felt like hours but he realized that was just his imagination. At the rate the water was being transmogrified into air, based on the amount the water level had reduced in the shield, the Mink realized that it had scarcely been sixty minutes. Neither a master of channeling or skilled with manipulation of electricity, Archibald was quickly exhausting himself, which meant that he would have to sacrifice some of his time, transitioning from the creation of air to restorative meditation. Fortunately for him, however, meditation was one of his strengths.

One of the few casters skilled enough to meditate without first clearing his mind, Archibald pulled his scepter away from the shield and drew his focus back into himself. Maintaining a slow and even breath, the Mink reasoned that meditation would have the added benefit of reducing the amount of air he used while not replacing it, and, rather than let his mind go blank, he used a technique he fondly referred to as 'reverie', in which he could focus on any simple, mundane task while opening himself to all of the latent mana around him and absorb it by sheer passive mindfulness alone.

As he neither let his mind wander nor obsessed over any one specific detail, the Mink toyed with mental representations of numbers in his mind, pretending he was looking at a large piece of parchment with figures, tallies and mathematical signs dancing around one another. It was a silly exercise but, then again, that was precisely what he needed to maintain his restorative focus. As was his unique talent, Archibald led the numbers on a dance around the page taking up his mind's eye, using their choreography to do math at the same time; he needed answers he didn't otherwise have time to compute and he could think of no better way to do double duty in his limited time.

One hour of channeling and one hour of meditation, regularly transitioning from one to the other. He would need to create enough air, not just to breathe while creating it, but to bridge the gap when he had to meditate. The numbers followed his direction in a silent ballet across the metaphorical paper as his mind put together the figures. He would need to meditate at least an hour and a quarter for every hour he spent channeling. Doing so would replenish the majority of his mana reserves but would not cover everything; even with carefully controlled use of time he would slowly be depleted, but, he reasoned, there was a good chance he would be able to keep up the cycle for twenty four hours.

It had been a long time since the Mink had last stayed awake for twenty four hours but, the little pirouetting two reminded him that he'd already been awake for nearly sixteen at that point. Had he ever stayed awake for forty? It was a question he didn't have the time or focus to answer but it was beside the point; if he wanted to survive then he would stay awake for as long as it took. Considering his friends were doubtlessly trying to save him, Archibald found that he liked those odds. By the conclusion of that thought, however, it was time for him to transition back to the transmogrification of water to air, and so he was forced to focus one again on channeling.

The kind of thought and focus used for channeling as opposed to meditation had an entirely different feel to it; the comparison the Mink was able to make contrasted the attention needed to do a repetitive, mindless job such as weaving with the arrow-point precision of mathematical formulas. Unlike meditation, which required a supreme amount of focus and deliberate control of thought, while channeling, Archibald merely needed to know what he was doing in a systematic manner but, by the time the second hour started it was mostly mindless repetition of the same mental acrobatics, allowing his mind to safely wander. Ever focused on making good use of his time, the Mink first paid attention to his posture and the timbre of his chant, how he held his paws, and the connection of scepter to shield. That changed by his fourth hour of chanting as his mind began to wander.

Archibald had experienced an incredibly boring childhood. One of several kits born to a wealthy family, he nevertheless grew up in accordance with the wishes of his parents. His education was focused on history, geography, understanding the social pecking order, manners with etiquette and all things business related-- one of the reasons he was so good at using both his brain and his tongue. They were lessons which would definitely serve him later in life but, in his youth he found them incredibly tedious and boring beyond any level a Mink in his early teens could possibly manage to endure.

By the time he hit the measure of adulthood as determined so far away back in his home city, Archibald was considered the hellion of his family. He knew that he could not possibly act against the wishes of his father and mother, but malicious compliance could certain allow him to express himself, and, thus, he became a horror incarnate to all of his teachers. It was shortly after his transition into adulthood at the age in which he was still beholden to his family but almost to to the point that he was ready to be off on his own that one of his teachers learned quite suddenly and in a dramatic way that the young Mink was attuned to Water mana. The teacher quit on that day, and had to return home with his tunic stuck in an ice block.

Although he expected his parents to be furious, the inadvertent utilization of magic had the exact opposite effect; they took an immediate interest in him, setting aside all of their displeasure and disapproval in an immediate bid to find as many instructors as they could to teach him anything they could, all with the intent to 'make something useful' out of a son they had all but dismissed as a 'lost cause'. It was one of the things that Archibald had come to find disgusting about the upper class: everyone was a resource and they were only worthwhile if they were immediately of value. As it turned out, however, that instruction was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

The instructors his parents had hired were not from the city and, in fact, had just been passing through. The two Bears, husband and wife, were from further south and neither was a Water Mage but his parents didn't appreciate the difference in magic styles, nor were they willing to take no for an answer. With few other unaffiliated magic users, the couple was stuck teaching a Mink initiate, barely into adulthood, everything they could about magic. Thankfully they were both very patient, and surprisingly good instructors.

Archibald, over the course of three months, came to love both of them. They were far unlike any of the tutors he'd had up to that point, and were always able and willing to interrupt whatever lessons they'd had planned in order to answer however many questions of his he could throw at them about whatever topic they were discussing-- and he did so with great regularity. Unlike every other lesson he'd been taught, the young Mink could not deny his interest in the magical arts, and they were both able to work wonders on satisfying his curiosity.

The male Bear was an Earth Mage, attuned to rock and soil. He, like his element, was solid, reliable, dependable, and stalwart. The she Bear was a rarity among Mages in that she did not have a specific affinity to an element, rather, her magic was aligned with living things and she could work wonders with potions, herbs, and curative spells. To that end, she had some passing familiarity with Water Magic since it was often used in alchemy but, more than that, she had a working knowledge of how to weave magics together, and that insight, more than anything else, is what helped the two ursine casters teach Archibald.

They instructed him at his home for nearly four months before the in-house tutoring sessions ended, and that was only because he ran away to join them on the road. He'd lied to them, of course, saying that his parents said he needed some real world experience and they'd sent him away with their blessing-- the pouch of coins he'd taken from his family's coffers was presented to the two Bears as travel funding, supposedly offered to them by his parents in order to care for Archibald. He had no qualms about lying to get what he wanted-- what he felt he desperately needed. They were kind people and took his words at face value and, thank the gods, Archibald was able to join them and never looked back.

The Bears were not simple folk, but they were far less complicated than the nobles, and the Mink reveled in the simplicity. They were open and honest in all things, including their relationship, thus it was only a matter of time before Archibald became part of their union, being with them during the most intimate moments. He favored both equally, reveling in the feel of her insides as well as what it felt to be filled by him. He felt truly loved for the first time in his life, and that feeling had never left... not even when the two Bears went their separate ways. He knew it was not his fault that Maura lost her husband, but--

The thought interrupted his focus and the flow of mana going into the water. Reaching up to rub at his brow, Archibald felt like his entire body was tense and sore; the space around him was achingly close and he had precious little room within which to move. He felt like it was getting warmer in the confined space but realized it was just his imagination. steadying his breath again, the Mink decided that the interruption would transition his time from channeling to meditation, and he immediately settled back into his next form of focus. Or, rather, he would have, if his mind had been willing... which it wasn't.

The Mink growled inwardly at his rebellious mind, which continued to focus on the early years with Maura and Andres. Learning about the world had been wonderful. True, there had been ups and downs, but everything he'd experienced alongside them had turned him into the man he had become, and he was thankful. "All except for being buried alive right now but, hey-- nobody's perfect."

His own gallows-humor approach to the situation was enough to make himself laugh, but it didn't do much to improve his mindset, or his ability to focus on meditation. He began to wonder if his allies would be able to get him out of the predicament before his mana reserves failed. He knew that skipping a meditation session would shorten the amount of time he'd be able to transmute water into breathable air but, with the only other option to just sit there and fail to meditate, the Mink elected to make the time worthwhile.

Channeling once again, Archibald returned to the thoughtless repetitive flow of mana through his scepter and his mind wandered anew-- though he did nudge it away from the Bear couple. It ended up settling on the final straw that encouraged him to leave home: he'd never given much stock in the pampered life, and an arranged wedding for him would only have made it worse. The Stoat girl his father had set him to wed was not particularly unattractive or wholly repulsive socially, but he distinctly remembered her being intellectually dull.

She had been raised to be wedded off for political convenience and, as such, the poor girl was entirely without any kind of education and, to that end, could contribute nothing to a worthwhile conversation. The thought of spending his entire life with her left Archibald desperate for an escape. The prospect of being on the road with the two Bears, both of whom he'd come to love was the only possible solution, and so he had taken his first opportunity to--

The line of thinking broke his concentration yet again. Sighing, he dropped his scepter. "Damn it."

Archibald knew enough about himself and mana fatigue to know that he was starting to show all the symptoms. He hadn't lasted nearly the twenty four hours he'd hoped; based on the amount of water missing from the shield he hadn't even managed six. Quickly going through an appraisal of just how much rubble could have collapsed atop him, the Mink began to do the math on how quickly his companions would have to clear it if they were going to get to him in the next--- carry the one... divide by three... his thoughts failed him again as he failed to complete the formula. "Damn it times two."

He offered up himself a bland smile at his own witty expletive and sighed. Picking up his shield, the Mink carefully angled it so he could drink from the water; true, he would die of asphyxiation before dehydration, but he was thirsty. Letting out a sigh and brushing an errant droplet of water from his chin with the back of his arm, Archibald set the shield back down. He would take ten, maybe fifteen minutes to rest and then try to meditate again. Until then, he would let his mind wander, which it obviously wanted to do.

His time with Maura and Andres had been some of the best years of his life. He also got to meet Djona, who at first did not much care for him since it was his training which had kept her traveling companions stuck to one town for so long. As he was prone to do, however, Archibald eventually got the Fennec woman to come around and, before long, she loved him just as much as the Bears had,and he loved her too. They grew closer in fact when Andres left the Union, as the remaining members had to pull together in their shared grief. Jebidalian joined shortly thereafter; the Rhino had become a good friend and occasional 'physical companion', but Archibald never quite had the same connection with him as he'd shared with Andres.

The same could have been said more or less with regard to the other members of the Sufa Union who had come and gone. Years later, Maura and Djona were still with him, but other members had come and gone-- some by choice, and others by unfortunate event. Archibald had lost a lot of good friends, some because they were willing to sacrifice themselves for the rest of the Union. That realization suddenly struck the Mink; was he going to be another of the names the rest of his companions added to that list? He had saved them all... but would it cost him his own life?

No. He didn't want to do that to the Union; he didn't want them to miss him or feel his loss. Time, he realized, had been his enemy since the beginning, and that was only becoming more apparent as he came to understand that he would not be able to maintain the channeling and meditation combo. He had made all of his calculations presuming that his friends would be digging to him but the mistake he'd made was in presuming they knew where to dig. If the rubble had spread then it was likely that they would make enough false starts that 24 hours would be nowhere near enough.

If he was right about the rubble spread, he had to find a way to narrow their search field. He didn't know what was going on outside of his own little buried world so he had no way to identify what his chances could be. That was the first thing he'd have to do something about, and he got to work doing just that. Pulling a small stream of water up from his shield, Archibald drew it into his ear canal and, once his hearing was stopped up by the fluid, he turned his head and placed his ear against the stone, using the water to help increase his ability to pick up vibrations.

It took almost ten minutes of careful monitoring and identifying the tell-tale sounds of tools being used to move rubble before he was able to pinpoint their location; they were diggint too far to the left. Feeling the fatigue of so much channeling, Archibald knew that he was limited on what he could do without threatening his health even more, so he elected to stick with the easiest effects for a Water Mage, and that meant water. Sticking his finger into the cracks between two larger rocks overhead, the Mink released a slow-but-constant trickle up through the layer of stone.

He sent his senses of water along with it and, once it began to pool atop the rubble, he gave it a little flick of mana, forcing the pool to stand on end as a little geyser. Continuing to pay attention to the vibrations in the rock with his ears, Archibald felt an immediate sense of relief when he heard the distant work cease and, a moment later, pick up overhead. He smiled to himself, silently celebrating the victory of a cool head and clear thoughts. The victory didn't last long, however, as the small world around him began to shift.

Quickly putting together a plan, Archibald used the last of his strength to force all of the water he'd summoned up and into the rocks all around him, using the same reactionary magic he'd first used when he froze his tutor's tunic. As his fellow teammates finally broke through to him, the Mink had successfully reinforced his little sanctum so that no rubble would fall and crush him.

The light was nigh unbearable to Archibald as he looked up through the break in the stone and, for a split second, he recognized the ursine face gazing down at him. The earth had parted, and the Mink felt an immediate warmth fill his heart. "Andres?"

A svelte vulpine head appeared in the light as well as Djona reached down to help him out of the hole. "Wow... she's not THAT manly."

The dazzling illumination faded quickly and Maura's frown came into focus. Patience was evident in her voice, despite her bland response. "You're lucky you look half dead, otherwise that could have earned you a beating."

His companions pulled him into a group hug once he was clear of the rubble. Tears were shared as emotions ran hot and, despite her promise of letting Archibald off with a warning about confusing her for her ex-husband, Maura did end up cuffing him on the shoulder. "Don't risk your life again or I'll kill you."

It was funny in an ironic way for Archibald: he had to leave home to find where he belonged; he had to part ways from his relatives to find his family and nearly dying helped put into focus just what was worth living for. Not much for sentimentality, the Mink nevertheless had no trouble saying the words "I love you guys."

He never tired of hearing their reaffirming responses back.