FSE

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CW: This chapter contains depictions of PTSD and brief mention of off-screen sexual assault.

"What Occupies the Dreams of Gods?"

--Title of a book by the famous Second Age fox poet Orrimare. While the book was extremely popular in its day, no copies remain, despite many works of Orrimare's lesser contemporaries surviving.

When the message finally reached Hyla, it had been passed from person to person so many times that the carefully crafted wording had been lost. "Master wants to see you," was what she heard, tired after a long night's work.

"Why?" she asked, although she was already turning her feet away from the hotel where she had been working, towards the top of the hill and the temple that sat there.

"Some channeler is visiting."

"A channeler?"

"Yeah, a badger like you."

The messenger was tired too and so did not notice that Hyla's reaction. Her hackles stood on end. Her eyes went wide. Her muscles tightened like the winding of a spring. A badger channeler? She ran through a list of gods from her pantheon who might take a channeler and liked each possibility less than the last. She stalked away from the messenger without so much as a goodbye.

Hyla had intended to approach the temple along the main road, but upon hearing that the channeler was a badger, she opted for the side paths. She ducked through the alleyways and businesses that made up the sprawling economic district that was the House of Totukepsan. She kept the temple on her right and soon was approaching via a smaller side door. The guards there prepared to announce her entry, but she waved them down, pretending to be far more relaxed than she was. Once inside, she slipped into the shadows and watched.

The main hall was almost empty. A few ceremonial guards patrolled in lazy back-and-forths. Totukepsan himself was standing next to his throne, the coyote in amiable conversation with a badger next to him. Hyla tried to size up the newcomer. Female, on the small side, dressed in simple traveler's garb with a pouch and bedroll slung over her shoulder. She was nervous and skittish, whipping her head around at every small sound. There were no obvious clues to which god she held.

Hyla found it easy to stick to the darkness as she walked around the periphery of the temple. The temple had few windows, the pre-dawn light was not at the right angle, and the graystone sconces on the walls were weaker than candles. Even when the badger channeler swept her gaze past Hyla's position, she was sure she had not been seen.

Hyla crept closer and closer to the conversing gods. When she was sure she could no longer remain hidden, she pounced the rest of the way, leaping forward and catching the other badger by the shoulder, hauling her around. "Which one are you?" she snapped.

A pair of frightened black eyes blinked once back at her, and then they were gone, lost in a flurry of white. The shape darted to the side, leaving behind a long tail that hung in the air like a pennant before being whisked away.

Hyla's hand had reached out and tried to grab hold of the tail, but had just missed it.

"Hyla, no!" the coyote shouted.

But Hyla was already turning to chase the fleeing figure.

"I order you to stop!"

Hyla heard the command, and her feet stumbled and slowed. But only for a moment. Then she was moving once again. It tore at her to disobey. She had made a promise. She had made a bargain with the god of trades himself. But she kept running.

She ran because she knew the story. Every badger knew that story: "Catch the tail of Yakil, the Secret-Keeper, and she will be forced to tell you one of the secrets she knows." And there was one secret Hyla needed to know desperately.

That story echoed in her head and compelled her feet to move. She could see the god Yakil in front of her, darting out of the temple, long tail drifting through the air behind her. Then it disappeared. The pounding of Hyla's heart grew in her ears: if she lost track of the god, she would never get a second chance at learning the truth. She pushed herself to move faster. She was not a natural runner. She was certainly not a sprinter. The only advantage she really had was her strength, and she smashed through the doors of the temple so fast that she heard the hinges pop from the force. It almost drowned out the shouting of Totukepsan behind her.

There, to her right, a streak of white disappeared into a building. Hyla bolted after, ignoring the awestruck onlookers, and followed the god into a grand casino. By the time Hyla made it inside the building, the god had almost vanished out the opposite side. Hyla focused and ran straight for her, flipping tables in her way and barreling through anyone not quick enough to move aside. Cards, chips, and dice scattered to the floor. Hyla ignored it all and flew through the door into an adjoining building.

A restaurant. Shocked breakfasters turned their head from the running god to the chasing badger. But the god had paused to check that she was still being pursued and Hyla was able to see her in her entirety for once: an arctic fox, almost perfectly white except for the black tip of her nose and the dirty gray of her ears, with a tail almost twice as long as she was tall. The instant she saw Hyla, she dashed off, while her tail streaking behind her.

As Hyla crashed through the restaurant, toppling piles of food in her scramble, a part of her mind tried to plan ahead. Hyla knew she was not as fast as the god nor did she have the stamina to outlast her. Hunters in the stories only ever caught Yakil by being cleverer than the god. So as Hyla ran past a table, she grabbed a pair of long knives.

Out from the restaurant, into a clothes shop. Hyla's knives tore through fabric as she ran after the fleeing god.

Out from the clothes shop, into the street.

Across the street into the vendors and stalls.

Hyla was starting to feel the pain in her legs, unused to being pushed so hard so quickly. She could feel the muscles trying to seize up. Hyla tore through building after building until they blurred together and she no longer knew where she was.

It was in a hotel that the god made her mistake. She went up. The lobby was two stories high, with a massive beam hanging over the entrance. The goddess crouched atop it, a barely visible smirk on her face.

Hyla leapt for one of the beam's supporting pillars and dug a knife into the wood. She felt the blade sink deep and catch and she hefted herself with all her might, allowing her to thrust the second knife in even higher, and from there, climb up onto the beam.

The fox god stared at her in disbelief. Even Hyla's mind was still coming to grips with the fact that she had scaled the pillar with ease. Then Yakil realized how close the badger had gotten. She had to get away, and there was only one quick path to the ground. She leapt back towards the road.

The long tail hung in the air, just out of reach.

Hyla had no time to second guess her actions. She also leapt.

Everyone is equally fast in the air. Gravity holds no favorites.

Halfway to the ground, Hyla's fingers curled around the long white tail and held on like nothing else mattered. She had just a moment to brace herself before she landed.

She heard the snap of her bones just before the pain hit her. But she fought through the blackness that threatened to pull her into unconsciousness and kept her fingers locked tight. The god had landed beside her without injury and was fuming, an unreadable expression on her face.

"You are mine," Hyla wheezed out through gritted teeth. Even the movement of speaking heightened the pain. "I will have my secret."

The arctic fox barely moved. Her entire body was tense. "Very well, warrior. I will tell you about--"

"No." She jerked the tail closer. The sudden motion sent another lance of pain stabbing up from Hyla's leg. She'd landed worse than she'd thought. "I will choose the secret I want to hear."

"That's not how it works!" the god screamed in instant fury. She shoved at Hyla's chest, nearly hard enough to topple the injured badger.

Hyla tightened her grip on the tail until she could feel the bone underneath. "Then I will keep hold of you until the day I die. You will never be free of me."

Hyla knew how fear looked. She was a warrior, victorious in many battles: it was only natural. She'd seen the faces of countless enemies realize they were about to die. A few handled it with stoicism. Most were terrified. But there were some who hid their fear behind other emotions, like anger. Hyla recognized that look in the fox's eye. Beneath the rage, there was pure despair.

A god. Afraid of a badger.

Too afraid.

It was wrong. It was wrong in ways that made Hyla's stomach twist into knots. This was not what happened in the stories.

"Please," Hyla tried again, ignoring the ever louder sound of someone shouting her name. "I need to know."

The tail disappeared from Hyla's grasp as the fox god shifted back to a badger. "That's not how it works," she snarled again.

"Hyla Brokenfang!" The coyote's words were sharp and biting. Hyla flinched from them. "I gave you an order. Now stand down." He was storming down the main path from the temple, ready to fight.

Yakil's anger rounded on the approaching coyote. "Get back. She is my kin."

"Do not take that tone with me, Yakil! She has pledged herself to me and is my responsibility."

The coyote made a short sharp motion with his hand, as though dismissing her, and although he never touched her, never came close, the other badger flinched away like she'd been slapped, a hunted, haunted look in her eyes. What was going on?

The coyote leaned his pauldroned shoulder towards Hyla, and he looked like a general reprimanding an errant foot soldier. "We had a deal. You promised me that when it came to the other gods you would do as I command."

"Master, y--"

"And this is the second time I've found you laying waste to the House in a week. This is unacceptable."

"Master, if you would--"

"On top of that, you've scared Yakil out of her wits."

"MASTER!"

"What?" he growled.

Hyla lowered her voice as far as she could. "You're scaring her too."

The coyote glanced to the other badger and his ears flattened across his skull.

Yakil was standing a few paces from them, eyes so wide the whites of her sclera were clearly visible. Her breath came in rapid pulses. Other than that she was completely, entirely still.

Totukepsan moved so slowly that for a moment Hyla wondered if she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. He turned and extended a hand partway to the frightened channeler. "I'm sorry. Will you help me take Hyla back up to the temple?"

Yakil finally moved again. She looked at the offered hand. She looked back at him. Her breath slowed. Her eyes returned to their normal size. She did not answer, but did move to Hyla's side.

Between the two of them, they hefted a good portion of Hyla's weight off the ground. In truth, the coyote took the bulk. He slung one of Hyla's arms around his neck and lifted from under her shoulder. The other badger gripped the top of Hyla's wrist and held her hand away, as if worried the warrior would attempt to gore her. Only then did she try to support some of the badger's weight.

Hyla lifted her injured foot off the ground with a wince.

"That looks quite bad," Totukepsan said.

"Multiple broken bones," Yakil said in a toneless voice devoid of emotion. It was a guess, Hyla knew, but an educated one.

The coyote sighed in frustration and began to move. Yakil did as well and Hyla was forced to hobble along on her one good leg, the pain flaring up with each jostle and bounce.

As they staggered back up the hill, the coyote's hand would reach out to passing buildings on either side. Hyla saw the destruction she had caused be repaired. Doors reattached themselves. Walls mended holes. Splinters cleaned themselves off the steps and refitted themselves into wood. People stopped holding injuries as bruises and sprains disappeared. Even the food upset in the restaurant floated back onto its serving plates, cleaned of all dirt. "It's a good thing everyone here is required to pay insurance," the god muttered.

Hyla still felt guilty. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary, Master."

Hyla expected righteous anger. She did not expect calm. "No," he said. "There will be no punishment for this."

"But I broke a trade."

"I know," the coyote said in a soft voice. "Keep your voice down."

Hyla was stunned. She thought she understood the workings of the gods: they were tied to their nature and that was nearly impossible to change. Totukepsan's nature was to punish those who broke trades. She'd seen what he did to the leader of the pit fighters.

Wrongness piled upon wrongness. Hyla was flanked by two gods and neither of them were acting the way they should. Totukepsan was ignoring a broken trade, and Yakil... What had happened to Yakil? Hyla knew dozens of stories that featured the Secret-Keeper, usually in a minor capacity: she would appear to a hunter or warrior in the midst of their adventures, be chased, and when caught would reveal a secret that seemed unimportant at the time but would become crucial to the hero later. She was a helpful figure who relished the energy of the chase, an ally to badgers unlike the destructive children of Tevir and Taavir. But the Yakil who walked alongside her now acted like she was under siege, as though she expected an attack to come from anywhere at any time for any reason.

By the forge, what had happened to her?

Hyla's mind tumbled in circles all the way back to the temple, constantly asking questions without finding answers. She was so busy thinking that she didn't notice anything of her surroundings. She didn't notice the passersby watching the odd procession of two gods helping a limping badger. She didn't even notice the cool air of the temple as they entered.

But she did notice the way the coyote's shadow moved along the wall as they walked down the passage to the god's private chambers at the rear of the temple. She remembered meeting Boskan, the shadowy god of lies who lived in his brother's shadow, and she remembered something he had said that had seemed out of place to her then: "No one's managed to change Totukepsan before."

But he lied. Of course he lied.

The realization hit her and made her go still. Both gods had continued walking and when they sensed her pulling back, they turned to make sure she was all right. "Hyla?"

"What trade did you break?"

The coyote's ears flicked up, then relaxed down. "What are you talking about?" Then he tried changing the topic quickly. "We need to get you inside."

Hyla ignored the tug on her arm. "Totukepsan doesn't punish everyone who breaks trades. Not anymore. He changed, and you were the one who changed him, weren't you?"

Ready to ignore the question, he turned straight into Yakil, who had a triumphant smirk on her face. "I owe her a secret. I can tell her yours, if you like."

Trapped between two unrelenting badgers, the coyote raised his hands. "Fine. Yes, I broke the trade we had made when I became a summoner. I went looking for my son."

"And?"

"He should have punished me. But he could see into my thoughts: he knew I had no choice. So he did something the gods almost never do and changed himself. At great personal pain and cost, I might add. So now, sometimes, when the need is great, he will accept that trades must be broken." He gave her a knowing look and moved to support her weight once more.

"And?" she pressed.

He paused, unsure.

"Did you find your son?"

He said nothing. Even Yakil seemed chastened and went silent.

Together the three entered the private chambers and the gods helped lower Hyla down onto the edge of the bed. She winced as she let her broken ankle touch the floor again. She could, if she wanted, ignore the pain for a time, but this was not like a cut: the more she used her foot, the worse it would get. There was no reason to delay the pain. Better to accept it all now.

"Now, Yakil," the coyote began, "I know I asked you here to see what you could determine about this shroud on Hyla, but it appears there is something she wanted to know badly enough she disobeyed me."

"No. Absolutely not!"

"Yakil..."

The badger god drew a knife and held it in front of her protectively. "If it gets out that I can find particular secrets, if she tells anyone, I will skin her alive. Your protections be damned."

"I understand that," the coyote said in a voice as soothing as honey, "but she already knows, and you owe her a secret anyway. I will guarantee she tells no one."

"No," Hyla cut in, sharp enough to make the other badger jump. "She doesn't want to. She made that clear."

Yakil looked away from both of them, her jaw tense. After a moment she sheathed the knife, but her hand remained on the grip, clutching it tight enough that tendons were clearly visible under her fur. "He's right. Might as well."

"It'll be a trade," the coyote announced. "Yakil, you'll tell Hyla what she wants, but in exchange, Hyla, you must keep silent regarding her. And there will be consequences if you break this trade."

Hyla nodded.

"Fine," Yakil agreed and finally let go of her knife. "Now what is it you wanted to know?"

Now that the moment had come, Hyla's tongue betrayed her. All the weight of guilt and shame and sadness and anger that had stewed in her mind and poisoned her dreams made her mouth flap uselessly as she tried to form the words.

"Never mind. I'll just read it off you." Yakil dropped onto the bed next to Hyla, once again gripping her wrists and turning the warrior's hands away. The jostling sent another wave of pain radiating up from her foot. Yakil did not seem to notice. She just pushed her muzzle in against the crook of Hyla's neck and breathed deep.

Hyla was suddenly reminded of a time years ago when she was training under an old weapons-master. Hyla hadn't been that skillful with a sword at the time and tried to hide her lack of skill with fierceness and brazen attacks. But it didn't work. He could read her every stumbling motion as though she were narrating her own ineptitude aloud. That was what being with Yakil felt like. It didn't matter how deep she tried to hide something within her, Yakil knew it, just by being next to her.

"Oh," the other badger said, her voice gentle and soft for the first time. "I'll see what I can do."

And then she pressed in again, breathing deep, not of Hyla's scent, but of every secret of her entire life. No one knew her as intimately as Yakil did. She felt exposed, but it would be worth it she told herself. She dared to hope.

Then it was over, and Yakil averted her gaze. "I'm sorry," she said. "A secret is only a secret if someone, somewhere knows it. And even you don't know whether you broke your oath to your brother or not."

Hope disappeared in an instant. But before despair could rush in and overtake her, rage filled the void. She wrenched her hands out of Yakil's grip and lashed out at the nearby wall, punching it hard enough she felt one of her knuckles fracture. The new pain seared into her mind, sharp and real. "Stupid, useless gods! Get the fuck away from me," she growled out.

Yakil jumped off the bed and darted beyond Hyla's reach the moment the warrior jerked her hands away, but the larger badger stayed where she was, flexing her injured hand to let the pain soak into her mind. Anything to blot out the feeling of regret.

Yakil edged around the reach of the bigger badger until she was standing next to the coyote. He had been watching both of them closely, ready to intervene should either attack the other. Yakil took a step behind him and lowered her voice to a whisper. "You weren't kidding about that shroud."

The coyote spoke but he did so at full volume. "Could you see through it?" He did not take his eyes off of Hyla.

The badger swallowed and let her own voice speak louder, just enough for the warrior to hear. "No. I could see most things, but there was a gap. It's hard to explain."

"A shroud even the Secret-Keeper can't pierce." The coyote shook his head. His tail was held still behind him. "That does narrow down the list of possibilities. There's four witches that could accomplish that: Winding, Wavesong, Woetide, and Wildering; and three gods, Ketshi the Hider from the bats, the Sunlit One from the otters, and Poccarus, king of the great cats."

"Four gods," Yakil corrected.

The coyote turned an ear to her.

"You could make a shroud like that too."

He turned the ear away. "Very well. Four witches. Four gods. But too many of those names don't make sense. When was the last time Ketshi hid anything larger than a hammer? Or when was the last time the Woetide Witch ever seen?"

"You're thinking the Wavesong Witch or Poccarus are the most likely candidates."

"Yes, but they're on the far side of the world. No interactions with badgers."

Yakil licked her lips and nervously crossed her arms. "The old gods?"

"No."

Both channelers stiffened as Hyla stood with a jerk. The hulking badger rounded on them and limped her way to stand before them. There was a snarl on her lips and a growl deep in her throat. "Who are they?"

"Hyla," the coyote said warningly, his arm raised to shield the other badger.

Hyla gripped him by the strap that held his pauldron in place and lowered her head to his. "Who are they?" she repeated.

"Hyla, stay calm."

"She is trying," Yakil said, recognizing that the other badger was doing something she often did. "She's distracting herself." Despite saying that, the smaller badger took a cautious step back and took hold of her knife again.

The coyote nodded and placed a hand over the one the badger was gripping him with. "The old gods are the first gods to exist, from a time before gods had names. There's Death, Hope, War, and a few others."

"Did they do this to me?"

"No. They're too powerful. They can't do anything small. It's why they almost never act. Once, long ago, War grew tired of a battle that had raged for days and days of slaughter. He willed it to stop, and it did. But in doing so, War ended up stopping all conflict across the land. All conflict. Shopkeepers couldn't haggle. Fishers were unable to cast their nets and farmers could not till the soil. Anything that required effort and met resistance was impossible. That's why the old gods couldn't have shrouded you. If they had, neither of us would even be able to see you."

The hand on his shoulder began to relax. The rage sputtered and began to burn itself out. "And shrouds? What are they really?"

"Think of the stories," Yakil said, taking the initiative. "Like Orto the Hunter. He was being chased by Mera. No matter how far away he ran, no matter how carefully he covered his trail, she always found him. That's something all the gods can do, not just Mera. If we know someone and we concentrate on them, we know roughly where they are."

Hyla's lip curled. In anger or pain or just disgust it wasn't clear.

Yakil went on. "A shroud is basically the opposite of that. It's a god or witch covering your trail so that other gods can't find you simply by thinking about you. It wouldn't stop a god from seeing you if you stood in front of them--not unless it's a really powerful one--but it would stop one from knowing how to find you. Yours is unusual. It's not hiding all of you, but it hides some pieces of you really well."

The hand had almost released the coyote. "And they were banned?"

Totukepsan sighed and picked up Yakil's explanation. "The hope is that a shroud, properly used, will prevent a god from tracking someone they seek to harm, but it could just as easily be used to prevent gods from finding someone who needed their help."

Hyla's grip returned with new force. Anger sprung anew within her. "I do not need the help of any stupid gods," she snarled.

"That's not what I--"

She jabbed a claw into the coyote's chest. "You did this to me. You gods. I did nothing to deserve any of this."

"Wait!" Yakil's voice rang out, and the tone of it, bright and excited, stopped Hyla from doing something rash and stopped Totukepsan from doing something rash in response. "Maybe that's it."

The warrior and god stared at her.

She shrank back slightly under the attention. She started to speak unusually quickly. "Totukepsan, look at her. Actually look at her. If that shroud was meant to hide her, it's doing a damn terrible job. Every god who crosses her path takes notice of her. You bought her from a slave market because she stood out, Boskan recoiled from her, I can tell there's something wrong from the first sniff, and didn't Ashi say her nightmares tasted of nothing?"

"Nothing but air," the coyote confirmed.

"This shroud is screaming to every god to take notice. Any god or witch powerful enough to craft something I can't see through could have made something that wouldn't have attracted attention."

The coyote ran a new appraising eye over the warrior before him. "Almost like it was rushed."

"Why rush making a shroud?"

"Secrecy."

Yakil held a hand towards the other badger. "But you said that between the time she was captured and when you bought her, weeks passed. It doesn't take weeks to make a shroud."

"No, but she likely passed through the territory of other major gods on her way here. Crafting a significant shroud would draw their attention. This had to be done fast and quick so they wouldn't notice."

"Why wouldn't they just put the shroud on her before she was taken elsewhere?"

"Possibly because they didn't realize it was needed at the time."

Yakil chewed the fur of one of her knuckles as she thought. "Yes, that makes sense. Especially..." She suddenly snapped her fingers as the idea occurred to her. "Especially if she wasn't the thing they needed to hide. Maybe she was a witness to something. They might not have realized she had seen it until she was already far away. And then they scrambled. But if it's not hiding her, then what?"

The coyote rubbed his chin in thought. "The silver wolf has been trying to hide his activity from the gods. Maybe that's because one of them is working with him and Hyla encountered them."

"I met no gods before you," Hyla snarled, but there was less anger in her voice now. The threads that Totukepsan and Yakil were pulling at intrigued her too.

"That you remember."

"I would remember a god."

"You don't remember your own name," the coyote said deadpan.

"It's Hy--" She froze. No, Hyla wasn't her name, at least not the one she had been born with. It was the name he had given her. He'd made her forget her original name.

"We should bring this before the Council," Yakil said.

"No." The coyote shook his head decisively.

"Why not?"

He looked at her out of the side of his eye. "Because all the gods and witches who could have done this are on the Council."

* * *

Hyla was surprised to learn there was a protocol for an injury such as hers. Through Totukepsan, she'd traded injuries before, but here he traded a piece of her injury with slaves who had volunteered to assist. They went away with a limp that would last for a few hours, and it healed another portion of her ankle. While the coyote told her there were enough volunteers to fully heal her, he did not want to do so. She needed a reminder that she was not invincible. And so he left her with a more considerable limp and told her to stay off her leg for three days.

He added that she would work it off later.

So Hyla found herself confined to the slave quarters with little to do as she was told not to walk. They had offered her a comparatively private room in the corner of the second floor, commonly used for convalescence. And there she sat, happy for whatever occasional guests stopped by. Azair was the most frequent one to show up, checking on her at least twice a day and bringing her her meals. Zurra also made infrequent appearances, seemingly glad for the company of the taciturn badger.

But most of the time her only company was the tree that was outside her window, its branches swaying in the wind. On occasion she would rest on the sill of the window and reach out to brush her fingers over its leaves. But most of the time she stayed on the other side of the room, measuring time in the dance of the limbs and branches.

And then, one evening when she was once again nearly alone in the slave quarters, she looked out at the tree and saw a badger perched on the nearest limb.

Yakil sat motionless and would have been nearly invisible were it not for the breeze making the shadows ripple over her form. Hyla herself stayed as still as she could, not wanting to frighten the other badger off. Finally, Yakil crept forward and crawled in through the window. She checked the doors, locking them both and then closing the windows for privacy. Then she stood, pressed against the far wall as if ready to bolt at the slightest movement from Hyla. "Can we... talk?"

"If you want to."

"I do."

"Then I'll be here as long as you need." Hyla kept her motions small, her voice quiet and soft, doing all she could to not spook the channeler.

"Thanks." The channeler slumped against the wall, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest. "We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves properly the other day," she said.

"Hyla Brokenfang."

A wry smile fluttered over the smaller badger's lips. "That's the name he chose for you?"

"Hyla's a good name," the warrior insisted.

"It is. Brokenfang, though?"

"At least it's accurate." Hyla opened her mouth and ran a tongue along her teeth, feeling the still odd gap.

"Yeah. I am... I was... Talo Whiteshield."

"But not anymore?"

She shrugged. "When you become a channeler, you're supposed to give up your name, as a sign of your lack of attachment to your old life. Everyone calls me Yakil, as though we are one and the same." She tapped her temple to indicate the god who shared her body, then she sighed and avoided Hyla's gaze. "You're probably wondering how any badger could become a channeler."

"Yes," Hyla said, not mentioning her initial disgust when she had learned of the visiting channeler.

Yakil slid down the wall until she sat at its base. She pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. "I was a runner."

Hyla nodded. Runners were vitally important in a sprawling land of disconnected villages like the badger lands. They carried messages or supplies from location to location, some on a set circuit, and others going wherever they were needed. Usually runners were wolves or caribou, but there was a decent number that were badgers.

She went on. "I was camping out between setts one night, and I saw her. Yakil. She was warming herself by the fire I had made. She asked if I was going to chase her, and I said no. I didn't have any secrets I cared about knowing. I let her stay. It wasn't like she was Mera or anything." Mera, the Hill-Shaker, who caused landslides. "But she didn't stay long. She didn't trust me.

"Every time I was camping in that area there she was. She'd show up the moment I lit the fire and stayed till I fell asleep. Sometimes, she ate some food I left out. Sometimes she snuck into my pack for some bandages for her wounds."

"Wounds?" Hyla stirred at that.

The other badger tensed and then turned away. "You've heard the stories: 'Catch Yakil's tail and learn a secret.' That's all there is to her in the folklore. She doesn't get to do anything on her own, she just gets used. But it wasn't just badgers who knew those stories, the gods knew them too. So they'd chase her, and--like you--they would force her to tell them what they wanted before they'd let her go."

"I'm--"

"You just held her tail," Yakil said sharply. "The gods are far more vicious. Mera crushed her legs under a rock. Vol seared her feet with burning coals. Pekral tore one of her ears off. And Ru'al..." The voice of the badger trailed off and she looked desolate.

Hyla felt darkness twist inside her. Ru'al was a god of trickery and deceit. He'd been known to fool travelers into walking off cliffs shrouded in mists or drowning themselves in rivers. He was the only god in the badger pantheon who had given Hyla nightmares as a kit. Hyla knew what such a god would do with a lonely woman. If he said, "I love you," you would believe it, no matter what he had done to you before. You couldn't fight him. All you could do was run and hope you could run faster than him.

Hyla wanted to spit on the ground and curse the names of the gods, but that wasn't the right response when she was talking to a god herself. Instead she reached out with her good leg and brushed it against the god in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

"So, yes, Yakil sometimes had wounds." She shivered a little and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling back from the touch. "No, she usually had wounds. She wanted out. She thought if she had a channeler, things would be different. After visiting my camp for a while, she asked if I could help her run faster, and I said I could. That's how it happened. The one and only badger channeler."

"And did it work?"

"Mostly. There's rules about channelers which should protect her, but you know how our gods are. They don't always pay attention to the rules." She buried her muzzle between her knees for a moment before popping up with a genuine smile. "Tevir and Taavir, though, they're great. Better than the stories would suggest. You almost couldn't believe they were related to any of their kids. Whenever I visit their cave, they always make me feel like I'm family. And it doesn't matter if I saw them the previous day, they always hug me like they haven't seen me for years."

Hyla thought that it might be nice, one day, to meet Tevir and Taavir, the blacksmith gods who had forged the badgers and the rest of their gods. They had been the only gods Hyla had really looked up to. But just as she thought this, she also immediately realized why she could never meet them. If they thought of her as an oathbreaker, she might just die of shame on the spot.

This thought haunted her and kept her silent as Yakil talked on about other gods she had met outside of the badger lands. She realized at some point that Hyla had not spoken. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I haven't had a chance to talk with another badger in ages."

Hyla could imagine. The warm hospitality of her kin would freeze over the moment Yakil told them she was a channeler for a god, and she wouldn't have wanted to lie. "Was talking all you wanted to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are one of the Windswept, aren't you?"

"I... yes." The Windswept. Originally a joke, the idea that all the women in the runners were lesbians. But over time it became a truth, as more women who heard of the Windswept struck out from smaller setts in the hope of finding love. "How long has it been since you've made love to someone?" Then she remembered what the god had said about Ru'al, and tried to quickly correct herself, "With someone you wanted to--"

"He doesn't count," Yakil said with acid on her tongue. She shook her head sharply as if to rid all thought of him from her mind. "There hasn't been anyone since I became a channeler. It's been centuries. Might be centuries more still. When you become a channeler you gain a part of the power of the god. But you also gain a part of their nightmares. All of Yakil's fears are now mine. You've seen how I have to hold your hands away just to be near you. How could I ever love someone if I would spend every moment near them terrified that they will try to capture me?"

"I won't."

"I wish I could trust you."

"I'll swear it on Totukepsan."

She smiled thinly. "I wish I could trust him."

"Then tie me down."

"You're a warrior."

"Then tie me tightly."

Yakil laughed until she saw the serious look in Hyla's eyes. "With what?"

"There's rope in the drawer to your left. And there's attachment points in the walls." Her fingers pointed to a variety of small bolts hidden in the walls. "It's pretty common for slaves to be tied up. We often practice here. I'm still not good with knots myself."

Yakil slid the drawer open and pulled out the rope in bundles. She stared at it in disbelief and then tested its strength between her hands. Hyla held out her arms with her wrists crossed.

Yakil stood still for a long time, battling internally between her fears and her desires. All the while, she stared at the other badger's hands like they were about to lash out and strike her. She struck first. She grabbed Hyla's wrists and shoved them to the ground, lashing them together ferociously. In seconds the rope cut in against her fur. Yakil was far more skilled with knots than she was--a life on the run in the foreboding tundras of the north made her extremely resourceful--and soon Hyla's arms were bound tighter than even she had expected them to be.

Yakil stepped around her as if expecting the warrior to kick her. When she got behind Hyla, she jerked down on the bound arms, forcing Hyla onto her back and then threading the rope in to the bolt on the wall. Once Hyla was secured, Yakil skittered away to the far side of the room, breathing in short, quick gasps.

"Are you all right?" Hyla asked.

"Yeah," came the surprised response. She was shaking slightly and swallowing far more than she needed to. "A-are you?"

"I am. We could keep going, if you like."

A moment later, Yakil was starting to tie more rope around Hyla's ankles.

"Wait."

Yakil froze.

"I can wriggle out of that. Here. Let me bend my legs and tie them at the knee."

The channeler remained still for a moment before undoing her knots and starting to tie Hyla the way she had suggested. She bound thigh to shin and then attached the rope to a point on the far wall. She repeated on the second leg, moving cautiously around the injured foot. When she was done, she jumped back as Hyla began to squirm in place.

"Too loose," Hyla explained and demonstrated how she could bring her arms forward enough to start getting some leverage. The bolt in the wall whined as she strained at it. "I could get free. Tie the legs tighter."

"I could hurt you."

"I'm a warrior, remember? Tighter."

And soon the remaining slack was taken out. Hyla had her arms far overhead, her knees bound and spread towards opposite corners of the room, leaving her completely exposed. "Put the pillow under my hips," she said and once it was done she relaxed. The position put a strain on her, and although she had nowhere near the flexibility of Zurra, her training had left her quite limber.

Yakil knelt at Hyla's side. She clenched her fists, steeled her courage, and reached out to touch Hyla's naked flank. Her fingers twitched and threatened to pull away at the slightest movement from the larger badger. Hyla tried to keep her own body as motionless as she could.

Yakil bent forward suddenly and flung her arms around the warrior's chest. She buried her head into Hyla's fur and shivered, her whole body tense as a wire, expecting something to happen. But nothing did.

With aching slowness, she wound down. Muscles relaxed. Breathing slowed. Tension flowed out. Her arms broke their tight embrace around Hyla's back and she knelt up, brushing the fur along her muzzle back into order self-consciously. "Sorry," she muttered.

"You don't need to apologize for this. You've seen my secrets; you know what fears I've fought."

"That's different. You're a warrior. You're brave."

"Not brave enough to become a channeler."

Yakil laughed quietly as if she thought Hyla was merely flattering her. But it did loosen her up further. Her eyes roamed over Hyla's form, as if finally appreciating the fact that there was a half-naked woman in the room with her. "You really are beautiful," she said and reached out a hand to tentatively touch the edge of Hyla's breasts. She glanced down to the other badger's hips. "May I?"

Hyla nodded, but she kept the motion slow and shallow.

Yakil ran a finger along the edge of the wind of cloth that wrapped over Hyla's sex. She plucked at it until it came undone and was tossed to the far wall. Yakil eyed her hungrily. Her hand rested on Hyla's thigh, scooting closer every breath until a finger could spread apart her labia and begin to wriggle its way inside. There was only a moment's hesitation before the finger plunged in deep and hooked partway inside her, causing Hyla's sex to clench around it.

"Yakil."

She jumped but did not withdraw her finger.

"Could I see you naked too?"

The smaller badger smiled abashedly, extracted her hand and stood. She looked at her finger, slightly damp, and attempted to hide herself with her back turned as she licked it clean. She wriggled her way out of her traveling clothes. The badger turned around and stood, unsure how to hold her arms. "Like this?" She settled for having her hands on her hips. While some badgers had a sharp contrast of black and white in their fur, Yakil had black and tan. In between there was a strip of muddy brown that seemed to point directly from her breasts to her sex, which Hyla thought was rather fetching.

"Could I see..." Hyla paused, unsure how to phrase it. "Could I see the other side of you?"

Yakil lifted her ears at this. She stepped closer and as she moved, her body changed. This time it did not happen all at once. The burst of white started on her face as her muzzle changed to a vulpine shape, flowed over her head and shoulders, which narrowed and became slimmer, as a lithe arctic fox replaced the stocky badger. As the changes passed over her torso, Hyla noted that there were other moments where the fox's pure white pelt gave way to other colors, her nipples and sex stood out in shades of pink. The last thing to change was her tail, which grew out of the badger's short stub into a long luxuriant brush that she could have worn about her shoulders like a shawl.

The god's eyes were narrowed, staring down at the bound badger. "You are a strange one," she said.

"Can't I enjoy a beautiful woman?"

"Not when you're a badger and I'm a god."

Hyla looked to the side. "Since I arrived here I have been thinking a lot about the gods. And I think I have been wrong about many things."

"Yes," Yakil said simply. "You have been."

"And I want to start fixing that."

The fox regarded her in silence. She knelt down, her movements surprisingly graceful. The long tail waved sinuously behind her and brushed against Hyla's leg. She reached out and rested a hand on Hyla's belly, similar to how the badger had done before. "It is strange," she said, as though speaking to no one in particular. "I was so used to the movement. I never stayed in one place. Each night was a new bed. Each day was a new path. There was no room in my life for sex. I was disinterested in it, just as I was disinterested in building a house or farming a crop."

Yakil's hand traced up the badger's fur until she was circling the curve of a breast, staring at it. "It was not until I took on a channeler that I came to truly understand and even desire sex. But by then..." She leaned forward and placed a supporting hand above Hyla's head. Their muzzles were within a finger-breadth from each other.

Tentatively the fox lowered herself. The kiss was cautious at first, little more than a meeting of lips, but as they each grew accustomed to one another, it deepened. Tongues played out and soon the two were nuzzling one another affectionately and then needily. The grip on Hyla's breast grew tighter and a soft moan issued from the depths of the badger's throat.

Yakil lifted her head. "As tempting as a night with you is, she needs it more." And then the fox was gone. The white fur was suddenly badger black and brown. The kiss resumed with greater intensity this time as Yakil ran her hands up and down over Hyla's flank, straddling her hips.

Of all the skills that Hyla had worked on since her arrival at Anaros, the badger had worked hardest on her kissing. The first time she had shared a kiss with Azair, the fox had said it felt like she was fighting with her tongue. But now, here she was under Yakil, eliciting moans and whines with nothing more than her muzzle. It probably helped that the other badger was desperate for affection as well. She could feel the subtle grinding of hips against hers.

When at last Yakil pulled off and just cradled the bound badger in her arms, Hyla took stock of the badger's physicality against her. She had seen how much smaller Yakil was, but now, this close, she could feel other subtler differences. Her muscles felt like corded rope, dense and wiry. And there was always a tremor that ran through her fingers, as though she could not keep them still.

Yakil's hand moved down over Hyla's form, from breast to belly, and then to her sex, and Hyla gasped when fingers shoved suddenly and roughly inside of her.

"Yakil..."

The smaller badger froze.

"I'm not going to run away," she said, trying to keep herself from chiding the channeler. "You can go slow."

The two fingers relaxed within her, easing from their rod straightness to conform to the natural curve of her sex. They went from pressing in as deep as they could to resting within her, and then soon starting to explore in slow movements punctuated by twitches. Hyla could feel the other badger's breath catch in her throat, as if she couldn't believe what she was doing and was afraid even to breathe lest it break the spell. "I'm not going to run," she whispered again.

Yakil's thumb extended out to touch against Hyla's clit, rolling over it once, twice, three times, first with the tip of the claw, then the full claw, and then with the pad of her finger. It slid to the side, tracing down the outer side of one labia, then back up the inside. When, after shifting her position, she was able to bring both face and hand to Hyla's sex, her tongue, lips, and teeth followed the path that claws had raked through moments before, ending by swirling around the bigger badger's clit. All the while her free arm wrapped around Hyla's waist and held her as tightly as the ropes did.

Hyla fidgeted in her bonds as the fingers slipped out and Yakil's tongue made its way inside. It was warm and smooth and desperate to sink in as deep as it could. Hyla felt teeth graze along her labia as the badger wriggled her muzzle in to push herself as far as she could go. When she pulled out a moment later, she sucked deep on air, having nearly smothered herself.

"It's okay," Hyla said.

"I... I just haven't done anything like this in so long. I'm worried you'll disappear." A shadow passed over her face. "Or that you're just humoring me."

"Yakil."

The badger lifted her head up to look along Hyla's body.

"Bring those hips over here, and I'll show you how much I'm humoring you," she said with a run of her tongue over her own lips.

Yakil, suddenly reminded of her own nakedness, covered her sex with a hand. She bit her lip and looked at Hyla, trying to determine again if the offer was genuine. She gambled and reversed her travels along Hyla's bound form, this time exploring out from her core, out to her flank, then her arms, running up them until the ropes began, and then finally kissing the bigger badger's cheek before shuffling up and placing her hips just out of reach.

Hyla strained her head forward and held out her tongue as far as it would go. She just barely felt fur at the tip of her tongue. But she stayed there, holding herself as relaxed as she could, waiting for Yakil to trust her. She let her breath puff out, directing the current down between the other badger's now sodden thighs. Yakil gasped and reached out to steady herself, unintentionally moving forward so that her sex was now grinding against Hyla's muzzle.

Yakil's hands gripped Hyla's head. One hand pressed her forehead back as if wanting to have her keep her distance, while the other held the back of her head and pulled it forward as if to bury that muzzle deeper into her sex. Trapped as she was, Hyla could do nothing but work her jaw and tongue along the smaller badger's folds.

But that was enough. Long suppressed needs bubbled to the surface. Yakil's breath came in short sharp gasps and her legs quivered around Hyla's shoulders, and then she was convulsing as her orgasm struck and her sex clenched whenever Hyla's tongue darted inside.

Yakil clutched tighter, until Hyla worried she would cut herself with her claws. She finally let go and sat back, hips resting against Hyla's breasts and panting.

Hyla smiled back and licked her lips hungrily. "Again?"

Yakil looked at her in disbelief for a moment. "You are insatiable."

Hyla tried to shrug, which was doubly hard from her bound arms and the weight of the other badger on her chest. "I haven't had an orgasm yet. But you're already looking like you're ready for another."

"Maybe I am." She took Hyla's head in her hands, but this time her touch was more focused. She gripped where her skull met her spine, there able to easily manipulate the badger's head and force her muzzle to swirl around her sex, while her hips moved in an opposing swirl. Hyla felt her nose being pulled around the nub of Yakil's clit and she darted her tongue out in side to side motions against it when she had a chance. "You keep doing that, got it?"

Hyla flicked her tongue sharply across Yakil's clit. "I got it."

The badger pivoted deftly so she was facing down the length of Hyla's body. She leaned forward, her legs hooked around the back of Hyla's head so she was pulled along with. Hyla felt the other badger's muzzle on her sex, moving in the same swirling motion, and she sighed. This time Yakil was taking her time and building Hyla up slowly.

Now her relative inexperience (or at least long delayed experience) was showing. Hyla could feel her trying to do various things with her tongue and fingers, but they never quite worked the way intended. Still, it was a warm and eager tongue plunging into her sex and fingers caressing along her labia.

Hyla was starting to think she'd let herself get tied up too well. It prevented her from wriggling free, yes, but it also meant she couldn't wriggle for any other purpose either. The most she could do was flex and alter the angle of her hips, which did nothing to push the other badger on. She muffled her own growing feelings of need and frustration with faster movements of her own tongue. She dragged it in between Yakil's lips and whenever she came to the entrance to her sex, she flicked the tip of it as she passed by to leave a ghostly sensation.

Yakil squirmed above her and tried to replicate the action with little success. But she did succeed in flicking her tongue across Hyla's entrance with ever increasing fervor. Hyla could no longer fully stifle her own sounds of desire and shoved her tongue in deep as the sound began to emanate up her throat and into the other badger's sex.

The god responded by rocking her whole body up and down along Hyla's. It somewhat made up for the inability of Hyla herself to move.

Somewhat.

Hyla started to plunge her tongue in and out, turning her head to make it rotate within the smaller badger. In turn, Yakil slid a finger deep inside Hyla and curled it just a little to make it press against her walls.

Hyla countered by holding her tongue deep and trying to curl it up from the tip. It was an advanced move and one she still did not have the dexterity for, but it didn't matter. Such was the lust of the god that she quivered and came before Hyla had completed the move. But this time, instead of collapsing, she only renewed her attentions on Hyla's own sex, rubbing a thumb quickly over her clit and drawing soft moans out of Hyla until she too climaxed.

Before they had finished, Hyla had licked Yakil to two more orgasms, and the god had brought her to one more as well.

Then, Yakil just held her, her head resting on Hyla's chest as though her breasts were large pillows. Hyla put out the tiredness and stress she felt and focused on just keeping still for the badger. She felt Yakil drift off into sleep and she herself almost nodded off several times. When she finally felt the other badger stirring and looked down, she saw a fox's face looking back up at her.

Slowly the god stood and stretched, but her eyes never left Hyla, watching her every movement as if she were about to spring from the chains. She started to redress in silence. Then she contemplated the bonds.

"Loosen the one at my wrist," Hyla said. "I can wriggle my way out after you leave."

The fox grimaced, but she did so. She picked at the knot just enough until it started to slip. Hyla could feel the friction of the ropes on her fur. It would take a while, and she'd probably have a small bruise at the end, but she could get out.

Yakil turned to the window, but before she reached it, she stopped suddenly as though she had walked straight into a wall. Her hands clenched into fists at her side. "I still owe you a secret," Yakil said through clenched teeth.

Hyla tried to show her hands were open and empty. "I don't have a hold of you."

"It doesn't matter. You caught me once before."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do!" she said and there was anger and bitterness sharp in her voice. She swallowed and calmed herself. "Those are the rules I have to follow. You caught me; you get a secret. That's how it has to be."

The fox crossed her arms and stared at the floor in thought. Hyla saw the moment the idea came to her: her eyes went wide and her short rounded ears perked up. She slipped down onto all fours and crawled over top of Hyla's still bound body until they were muzzle to muzzle. "You are already tied up in the affairs of the gods," Yakil whispered. "Maybe one secret about the gods will help. But you can't let any of them, not even Totukepsan, be aware that you know."

Hyla nodded her head slowly.

"Good. Think of all the stories you've heard of me that you heard growing up. Not just me. All the stories of all the gods. Tevir and Taavir, Totukepsan, all of them. Here is the secret: those stories are older than you think."

Hyla blinked. The seeming mundanity of the statement contrasted sharply with how serious the fox looked. "That's it?"

"It's important," Yakil said, hissing in an ever quieter whisper. She pressed so close her whiskers tickled Hyla's lips. "You'll want to forget. They'll make you want to forget. But if you focus, you can remember. The stories are older than you think," she repeated.

The badger nodded. "I won't forget."

Slowly the fox pulled away. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room as if she expected someone to spring out of them. "I can't stay. I need to keep moving." It was an explanation, and an apology. She sidled up to the window of the room. "Thank you, Hyla Brokenfang." And then she was gone.

Hyla sat back and took a deep breath, realizing that she had never before been sorry to see a god leave.

And there was that strange secret she had said. What was it again?

The badger felt something cold touch her heart. She had already forgotten. She had said she wouldn't. She reconstructed the last moments of the fox's visit, the way the god had looked as though she hated the obligation of telling secrets, the way she had held her close and whispered, hot breath against her cheek. Stories. That was it. The stories were old. No, older than she thought.

It was like a door had been sliding closed in her mind, blocking off the memory of what Yakil had told her, and now it had been thrown open forcibly again. There was still an impulse to let it go, let it just be forgotten, but it disappeared under the force of the badger's will.

How could that be important, and who was trying to make her forget? The answer to the second question came to her immediately, fueled by the badger's natural suspicions. It had to be the gods.

Was this how Totukepsan had edited the story of his fight with Hyla? Could people only remember the version he wanted them to?

The badger was suddenly, painfully aware of how alone she was in the room. She tried to keep herself occupied and awake, first by freeing herself from the bonds and then with exercises, terrified that sleep would break her concentration and make her forget what she'd promised to remember. But even the strongest warriors could not stay awake forever, and eventually she succumbed to the night.

* * *

"And we are continuing to get praise from the local noble families for the most recent ball. They are asking when the next one will be."

The Winding Witch stood looking at a rose, shears in one hand. The raccoon had one ear cocked back to listen to the servant behind her. "Totukepsan's request led to an unexpected timing. Perhaps that was the key ingredient in our success. Plan for another party, one week from today, but don't let anyone know about it until the day before. The surprise will produce some interesting results."

"Very good, your Excellency."

The witch lifted her shears out, only half-focused on the conversation as she thought where best to prune. "Perhaps we can even inform only some of the servants. The cooks will need to prepare, but--Ah!" The witch jumped back, clutching her hand.

"Your Excellency, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the witch said quickly, over her shoulder. "Just nicked myself on the shears. Go."

The servant knew better than to argue with the witch. She had been dismissed. She bowed and departed.

When the witch was once again alone in her greenhouse, she finally let herself look down. The shears were clean, or at least as clean as any proper pair of gardening shears could be. But on the rose itself, a single drop of red showed.

A shiver ran over her spine. She'd been the Winding Witch for generations, and in all that time she had never been pricked by a thorn.

For a moment, she thought that she had just been careless, but then dismissed that idea. Witches did not fool themselves as easily as most people.

She reached out and grabbed the stalk again, holding it tight in her hand. If she focused, the thorns bent away from her, but she had to focus.

The raccoon let go and sat back, pulling her tail up to rest in her lap as she called forth a vine which wove into the air in front of her and blossomed out into the largest flower in the greenhouse, swirling patterns of white and brown and gray that matched her own fur. She twisted her bleeding hand in the air and petals erupted from the center as she read forward along her own destiny.

And all at once, the petals came out crystal clear. Blank. Just as they always did these days.

Her hand wove through the air. Petals curled out of her way as she searched through the myriad interleaving layers of destiny, wondering if she would see a streak of silver among them. But there was nothing.

The raccoon sat, staring at the crystalline petals while sucking the blood from her thumb. She'd hoped to have more time. But didn't everyone, in the end? At least she'd used hers well.

She waved the flower away and picked up the shears. There was still work to do here and now.

Next time: Hyla Brokenfang at the Vile Academy