Chapter 1: Introduction

>"Anon."

>"Talia," you reply with a nod.

>The she-wolf hardly looks up from her "SURVIVAL" magazine as you lug your gear by the little RSO shack.

>She is your "partner" after all,

>It's expected that she'd let you get away with some stuff.

>"I sent a newbie to your bay," she calls after you, "mind helping her out?"

>But she does ask favors of you to keep up the arrangement.

>"Sure thing."

>"Name's Rebecca. Oh, and watch out-- those yeens are back in bay 5."

>Great.

>One or two of them found out about the range a month ago, and now there's a pack of them.

>It's unclear which is louder-- their laughing, or the stubby AK's they have with breaks.

>Fuck, you can hear it from here, even with your ears on.

>The cougar (both in age and in species) in bay 1 certainly isn't making all that noise with her pinked-up poly-pistol

>Contrary to what you normally see, her pastel piece isn't just a fashion accessory to go with her similarly-colored compression outfit

>...that or she's shooting from the bench to try and catch the handful of humans that come to the shooting range.

>Like yourself.

>She sees you approach with your range bag and flashes a fang-filled smile, setting the gun on the bench.

>You give a little wave back and try to slip past her through the small shooting shelter, but she gets up.

>"Hey there, sweetie," she says, her rumbling voice cutting straight through your muffs, "Need a lane?"

>"Nah, wouldn't want to bother you," you say; you try again to slip on by, but she leans against the wall, completely blocking the pathway.

>"Don't say that! I'd love a little company," she says.

>She leans down, seeming to fill the tiny shelter even more.

>"I could spot you... you could... check my form..."

>You swear her purring rattles the casings on the floor as she looms even closer, partway over you now.

>"Maybe some other time," you say, avoiding her eyes as you freeze, "RSO wanted me to check on someone in bay 6..."

>The cougar's ears flatten, and she draws back-- letting you breathe again.

>"I didn't think they let humies work at ranges," she says, giving you a suspicious eye.

>"I don't. She does," you say, meeting her gaze, "And she's my partner."

>There's a small flicker in her eyes, but it's not disappointment.

>"So..."

>She doesn't move; her nostrils flare a little.

>fuckfuckfuck

>You stay still, not breaking the gaze-- and after a moment, she steps back.

>"Okay," she says, crossing her arms, "but I'm not letting you through without getting your name. I'm pretty new too."

>You doubt it

>"Anon."

>"Well, Anon, I'll be here a while," she says, finally stepping out of your way. "I'm Laura, by the way."

>"See you around, Laura," you say as you pass by, feeling her tail brush against you on the way.

>One of her big mitts wraps around your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

>"Offer still stands," she purrs, before letting you go.

>You get out of there, hearing her load up another magazine

>That was too close-- you're lucky you were handloading before you got here.

>If you didn't smell especially like gunpowder-- like you do most of the time-- you'd have been fucked

>either from your nervous sweat, or the lack of Talia's scent on you.

>All the more reason you're glad you're at the range.

>You pass by bay 2, not even giving a thought of stopping there.

>Not after what happened last time.

>You do pause, however, as you approach bay 3; Aki's there.

>You can tell from the sound of apparent autofire.

>The bench is covered with her toys when you arrive-- very expensive, tactical toys.

>You've never been able to pin down where she gets her cash from-- all you know is that she's not an ordinary university student.

>You set your bag down and watch as she finishes her drill, multiple targets and barricades filling the normally vacant bay.

>She's behind the one with angled cutouts, near the center.

>The awkward angles don't slow her down; the cheetah darts between them in a blur, sending bursts through each.

>Each one landing completely in the A-zone.

>And you know she's only using semi.

>The supersonic crack of her last shot is still ringing off the earthen walls of the bay when she checks her targets.

>She doesn't smile, like every single other time.

>"You know, I think there's no automatics allowed on this range," you say when she starts back for the bench, striding with those long legs of hers.

>"Ha-ha," Aki sighs, setting her MP5 down, "That's just as funny as the first 20 times you said it, Anon."

>She starts loading magazines, pausing to look at you watching her.

>"What? You finally get a sense of taste?"

>"You left the safety off," you point out.

>"Psh. They just--"

>"Slow me down," you say with her, "I know. But it's on the bench, Aki. You can be slow."

>She snorts, continuing to fill up various magazines with frightening speed.

>Probably to show off.

>"Just because you can't have fun doesn't mean I shouldn't," she says.

>"I'll have you know I like my guns better than yours," you shoot back, grabbing your bag.

>"Don't lie," she laughs, "If the state let you, you'd get something made in the last 50 years."

>"...wouldn't you?"

>You shrug, shaking your head. Aki sighs again, turning her attention back to her gear.

>"I guess that's why you haven't tied it off with Talia, huh?"

>"Yep," you say, moving away, "Gotta go, Aki."

>"Catch you later, slowpoke."

>You've always liked Aki.

>She's focused, fast-- and not quite as lusty as the rest of the clientele here.

>Even if she can't seem to appreciate historic pieces quite like you can.

>

>At least she seems to appreciate you.

>When you reach bay 4, you wonder if Talia screwed up where the newbie went.

> You've never seen the fox that's out on the range there before

>The way she's flinching with each shot persuades you to check.

>She at least looks normal as you approach, dressed casual but appropriate

>A nice middle ground between Aki's hyper-tactical 'high-speed no-drag' setup and the inevitable low-top booty-short combo the yeens the next bay over are going to flaunt at you

>Fucking yeens

>Can hear their cackling in high-def now.

>You wait for the fox to finish the mag on her Sig before getting her attention

>"Are you Rebecca?"

>"Uhh, no, my name's Jen," she says, the reflective shades she has on making it even harder to read her face.

>"Oh, sorry. RSO said there was someone new she wanted me to help out, and..."

>You trail off, gesticulating; Jen laughs a little, nodding as she takes off the glasses.

>Purple eyes.

>"Don't worry, I understand," she chuckles, "mister...?"

>"Anon."

>"Mister Anon," she nods, "I'm new to the area, but I've got a basic grasp on all... this."

>She does a bit of gesticulating herself, sharing a small laugh with you.

>"But, if you don't mind me asking," she says, "What are you doing here? I thought humans could only use fireams with their wife?"

>"Not quite," you say. "The law is a modified version of old human ones; they just don't talk about it. Humans can have 'curio and relic' pieces. Basically anything older than 75 years."

>You could go on-- and for once, the person you're giving the spiel too looks interested.

>"Ahh. So, you're not here with anyone?"

>Damn.

>"I'm partners with Talia," you say, spirit slightly diminished.

>"That explains it," Jen nods.

>The look on her face is still one of interest-- but not lust.

>"You know, I moved here for a managerial position at the New Apple Museum," she says

>Your ears perk up

>"One of the tasks I have is organizing our collection and figuring out what we have. I haven't gotten to know the staff there real well yet, but I doubt any would have a specialty in human gear."

>She pauses, catching the smile on your face and mirroring it

>"I take it you'd be interested?"

>You're not sure you believe it.

>"Hell yeah!"

>"Good!" she says, "If you want to swap numbers, we can set things up later. I know you've got a newbie to attend to."

>You pull out your phone and she pulls out hers, and begin rattling off numbers to each other

>That's when you start to feel like there's something familiar about her

>"Oh, wait a sec Anon," Jen says as you turn to leave, "You mind if I get a quick picture of you? For my contacts? It'll make you easier to find."

>When you nod, she pulls you in for a selfie

>She's strong for her (relatively) slight size-- you can feel it as she takes her time getting the right angle and getting you to smile with her

>"There," she says after the click, releasing you, "I'll send that to you when I'm finished up here."

>"Okay, thanks," you say smiling back at her before going back to get your gear from the bench.

>Your heart soars

>Previously, your chances of getting into a museum or historical center seemed to be near zero. And now, you might be working in your actual specific field of interest.

>No more dealing with buncels moping around the library and trying to catch you when security's on break.

>As you move on to bay 5, you realize what it was that seemed so familiar about Jen:

>Her... scent? perfume?

>What she smelled like.

>Like coffee.

>You hate the stuff, but love the smell.

>That was probably it.

>And speaking of smells, you're able to smell the yeens as you walk into bay 5.

>Your hopes of sneaking through are quickly dashed when you see the small fleet of rusty shitboxes filling the space between the back berm and shooting shelter

>...Which is of course occupied by three of them.

>Though one of them is oddly small-- like, your size small.

>You grit your teeth, grip your bag, and head in.

>Just gotta act harder than you feel.

>"Oooh, whada we got here?" one of them croons, leaning down to you along with the other big one.

>Aaand there are the too-small crop tops.

>"We got us a little humie, Shay," the other says, "What you doin' here all by yourself, little guy? You get lost?"

>They cackle, stepping in your way as you make an effort to get around them.

>"I just want to get to the next bay over," you sigh, "You've seen me before, now just let me through."

>"Ooh! Hear that, Kris? He's makin' demands!"

>This makes them cackle even more.

>As you wait for them to finish, you realize you can no longer hear the staccato of shitty AK knock-offs.

>Your heart sinks.

>You see the rest of them that were out shooting are coming back to the shelter, grinning faces all around.

>Soon you're surrounded, and you swear you can feel the temperature rise. There's gotta be at least ten of them packed in here

>"Look, I just--"

>"He's makin' demands," Kris says over you, "He wants ta get through! Whadya think, girls?"

>Cue a cacophony of laughing, the only thing stopping them from grabbing you the fact they're all trying to go for it at once.

>"Oh, we can make a deal, lil' man," one of them says, "But you gotta do it for each of us."

>They seem to all like that suggestion.

>"Look!" you shout, managing to get their attention, "I'm with Talia! The RSO! She wants me over in 6, and if I don't get there, she'll--"

>A hand covers your mouth from behind, and you're pulled back against a plush body

>There's an audible sniff as one of them smells you before shoving you with a laugh, another one grabbing you before doing the same.

>"Don't smell like you are, humie," the first one says as you're bounced from hyena to hyena, "Smells like you're loose."

>"And we like loose prey," the last one holding you growls in your ear.

>"Back off, Roxxi," a less growly voice says, cutting through the air of laughing

>Things go quiet as the small one from before pushes her way through, the attention of the pack on her now.

>"You know B gets first dibs."

>"She ain't here," one of the big ones barks, "She ain't gonna know if we have a bit a fun."

>"She will," the little hyena says, crossing her arms. "Let him go."

>Now growling fills the air rather than distorted, yipping laughs.

>It's bad enough you're going to get passed around like a pleasure toy

>now you're going to have to watch this poor girl get her shit pushed in, and--

>Roxxi drops you back to the ground

>...Or maybe not.

>"Fuck you, Jamie," the big hyena growls, breaking from the semi circle and snatching up an AK from the bench.

>The others all snarl similar expletive-laden threats, and follow Roxxi, letting out bellows and growls as they magdump into the trash they've put out on the range.

>You stay frozen up as Jamie approaches you, unsure what to do.

>"You can relax," she says, her voice somewhat softer than the others', "I'm not gonna fuck you."

>"...Didn't think I'd be happy to hear that 'till now," you manage.

>"Come on, you need to move," she says, grabbing your hand and yanking you along toward bay 6, "Once they've let off that steam, they're gonna be back for more."

>She pulls you at arms length-- not at all possessively.

>And unlike every one of the others, she's not wearing obnoxiously risque clothes.

>Strange.

>"Do I want to know what happened back there?" you ask her when the two of you are out of sight, between the two bays.

>"Probably not," Jamie sighs, glancing down for a moment, "But I feel like I need to tell you anyway. It's... kinda my fault."

>Stranger and stranger.

>"There's not really any good ranges in New Apple," she says, "So we-- our pack, I mean-- were just kind of doing it where we could. Places we probably shouldn't have."

>You swear you can see blush under her fur.

>"Anyway, I did a little looking around and found this place. I- I went on my own at first, but then the others found out, and now, well..."

>She sounds and looks guilty-- you get the sense that she's not happy with the others, but can't do much about it.

>But then what the hell happened earlier?

>"Who's B?" you ask. Though you're not sure you want to know.

>"She's... the queen," Jamie says, still not meeting your eyes, "She leads our little... pack. She didn't come today because she's taking care of some business, but she's gonna know that you come here now."

>Finally she looks up at you, apology written all over her face.

>"I'd stick close to Talia next time you're here."

>With that, she walks back to bay 5.

>Well, shit.

>You take out the can of spray deodorant from your bag and spritz yourself

>Ever since the pack of yeens started showing up, you figured carrying it wouldn't be a bad idea.

>You might need to add in a can of mace for next time.

>Once you feel like you don't quite smell like the set of a YEEN'D video, you go to the shelter in bay 6, setting down your gear.

>The fact that there's no other stuff there tells you Rebecca is indeed new.

>When you look out at the range, you realize she's really new:

>Five yards away from the target stands an enormous tiger in a sweatshirt and shorts, all bunched up and leaning back. She flinches when whatever she's holding goes of, sending a spray of dirt up on the berm.

>You approach cautiously, not trying to make any loud noises, but not trying to be absolutely quiet either.

>"Rebecca?"

>She starts to turn and face you, before pausing and pushing the pistol way out in front of her, keeping it pointed down range.

>"Yes?" she says, her voice surprisingly soft, "Are you Anon?"

>"Yeah," you say, just now getting a look at her pistol, "Good job being safe!"

>She smiles a little; the little sub-compact looks tiny in her huge paws.

>"...That doesn't exactly look comfortable," you say, doing your best not to sound insulting.

>When you hang around a range full of armed anthro women twice your size, you get good at that.

>"No," she sighs, "It's not. I can hardly use the controls."

>"Do you mind if I take a look?"

>Rebecca hands it over to you; the Glock 42 is still warm from her grip.

>"So, this is your first time?" you ask, clearing the gun.

>"Yes," she says, watching you with clasped hands.

>"Is this yours?"

>The range doesn't do rentals, but you never know.

>"Yes," she says again, "I got it and the box of 380 from a pawnshop."

>You sigh. You don't want to know how much they ripped her off for.

>"You might want to get something else, unless you want it for your husband," you say, handing it back. "I think it's a confiscated human piece."

>"Oh."

>Her ears prick, and she freezes a moment before her ears, tail, and face all droop.

>"You can still have it," you say, realizing how 'confiscated piece' sounds in the context of a pawn shop, "It's legal and everything. It's just--"

>"I'm just too big for it," she says, the gun disappearing in her grip.

>"No, there's nothing wrong with you," you soothe, "It's that the gun is too small."

>It doesn't appear to do much for her mood-- even with all the state propaganda, you don't think you've ever seen an anthro look so... human.

>"We can still make things work," you assure her, reaching for her arm.

>Rebecca pulls back in a flash and bares her teeth, her fur bristling. You scarcely have time to jump back yourself before her expression changes to one of great concern

>"Oh, god," she says, taking a step toward you, "I'm so, so sorry. I- I just--"

>"It's okay," you say, more for yourself than her. "If you're okay, I'm okay."

>She nods after a moment, doing her best to appear smaller than she is.

>"Let me go and grab my pistol," you say, "It's big enough that it'll be a bit easier for you to use."

>Rebecca nods, and you can feel her follow you back to the shelter a few steps behind.

>"So... humans can have guns?"

>"Yes," you say, "Just old ones. Which happen to be what I like."

>"Oh."

>"My turn; why did you decide to get a gun, Rebecca?"

>She's quiet.

>"You don't have to tell me, just curious. If you have a specific purpose in mind, we might want to work on specific things. And look for specific things in a new one."

>"Oh." she says again. "Can we just do the... general stuff?"

>"Sure."

>Just as the two of you arrive at the shelter, you're greeted by a familiar-- if unfriendly-- face.

>"Hi Pat!"

>The german shepard, as usual, just scowls at your false enthusiasm.

>"You address me as Agent Birch, you little shit."

>"Oh, but Patricia," you say as you dig around your range bag, "You always come to check on me! I figured we'd be on a first-name basis by now!"

>The ATF agent looms over you as you leisurely pull out your Tokarev and a box of ammo.

>"Rebecca, this is Patricia," you say as you slowly lay the pistol down, "She's upset that Talia has first dibs on me, so she's trying to bust me and get me put into corrections."

>Patricia lets loose a menacing growl.

>"You're living in a loophole, Anon. And when I find a way, I AM putting you away."

>Making sure the Tokarev is unloaded, you present it to Rebecca; it draws her bewildered expression back into focus.

>"It's safe. Give it a try, see how it feels in your hand."

>She does; it looks like a compact in her hands.

>"Better than the other one?"

>"Yes, much," she nods.

>"Lets go and have you try that, then. I can-- oh, wait."

>You grab your bag away from Patricia as she looks through it, earning another snarl.

>"Pat, in the interest of teaching safe weapons handling, I'm temporarily going to handle Rebecca's gun, which is a prohibited weapon," you say, being technical and legal in the most condescending way possible. "Is that okay?"

>"No."

>"What if it's unloaded?"

>"...yes..." she concedes, though the murderous glare doesn't leave her eyes.

>"Anon, quit poking the bitch and go and do what I told you!"

>You and Pat turn to see that Talia has arrived, and she looks pissed.

>Moreso than usual.

>"Yes ma'am," you say, dropping the cocky attitude.

>If Hollywood wasn't full of predators, (even more than before the state takeover), you'd consider acting.

>Patricia and Talia start arguing as you lead Rebecca back to the targets.

>"Does this happen often?" she asks.

>"Occasionally. Neither of them do their job and they know it, so they get like this."

>You and Rebecca trade guns, and you go through the basics. Once she has a handgun that actually fits her huge hands, she unsurprisingly does well.

>She looks happy when she's got the hang of it, not leaning back or trying to close herself up.

>"Thank you, Anon," she says when she hands the Tokarev back, "Really. I think I'm going to try a different shop and get something nicer."

>You give her a quick inhale, and say "Maybe try a proper gunshop. Or at least let me tag along."

>Her eyes go a little wide.

>"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't want to impose."

>"I want to," you say. "Whatever you're doing this for-- won't ask what-- is important. I wanna make sure that you're getting something that works."

>Rebecca stares at you a moment before grabbing you in a hug.

>You can't tell if the softness you're pressed against is from the sweatshirt or from her.

>"You're too sweet, Anon," she sighs after a moment, before letting you go with a slight "Eep!"

>You follow her gaze back to see Talia and Patricia coming out to meet the two of you.

>"I- I didn't mean anything by that!" she stammers at Talia, "I just--"

>"Don't bother," Patricia snorts, "It's a cover anyway. Isn't it, Talia?"

>"You'd like it to be, wouldn't you?" the she-wolf growls, getting one in response.

>"It's fine, Talia," you say "She was just a bit happy with her progress."

>Talia gives you a look before nodding.

>Fake relationship or not, it's nice having a she-wolf on your side.

>"You wanna see the gun I was talking about?" you ask, seizing the chance to legitimize things in front of Pat.

>Not that it'd do anything to convince her.

>"Sure," your 'partner' says, getting the game instantly.

>The three of them stare at you as you dig through the bag, finding the tiny box.

>Setting it down on the small field table, you feel them crowd around you as you open it up-- Talia for the act, Rebecca out of interest, and Patricia out of malice.

>Inside sits the glorious result of at least a year's worth of saving and searching:

>A Kolibri Model 2.

>The smallest centerfire handgun ever made.

>You hold the tiny piece aloft for the three of them to see, glowing with pride.

>"It's in 2.7mm," you say, "the size of a single grain of rice."

>Patricia just keeps up her scowl, while Talia and Rebecca at least indulge you with a closer look.

>"I definitely don't want to try handling that," the tiger says, while your 'partner' just scoffs and asks how much it cost.

>"Plenty," you say, beginning the delicate process of loading up the magazine, "But most was for the ammo. The gun itself was in need of repairs, so it was cheap."

>Patricia's ears perk up.

>"Are you saying you modified that gun?"

>"No," you sigh, "I repaired it. If I was going to convert a piece of history into a machine gun, Pat, it wouldn't be the gun smaller than my palm."

>For once, she doesn't growl.

>Delicately, you slide the magazine in and slide your thumb over the safety, feeling the mechanical parts revel in their first coat of oil in a century.

>You set your sights on the nearby cardboard, which will most likely stop the tiny bullet

>It's going to be going slower than a BB from a BB gun, after all.

>Here goes...

>SP-P-P-P-P-PK!

>...

>Slowly, you turn the gun; the slide is locked back, the chamber empty.

>Along with your previously topped-off magazine.

>"HAH!" Patricia suddenly laughs, louder than any of the yeens from the bay next door, "I FINALLY GOT YOU, YOU COCKY LITTLE ASSHOLE!"

>Your face turns red and your chest suddenly feels light and hollow as you crouch down, counting out six brass grains of rice in the sand while she continues gloating.

>"YOU JUST MADE AN ILLEGAL MACHINE GUN, AND LIED ABOUT IT TO AN OFFICER OF THE LAW!"

>She moves in to grab you, but to your relative surprise, Talia shoves her away.

>"Simmer down, Officer Bitch," the she-wolf growls, "I'm the RSO, and I determine if it was intentional or a mechanical failure!"

>"You're not protecting him this time, cunt!" Patricia laughs, not fazed by the shove, "Conflict of interest! Being his 'partner' doesn't work out so well now, does it?"

>Talia growls; you feel like curling into a ball.

>"That means you've got no say in the investigation! All you can do is be a character witness-- but, oh, wait, you two are a 'couple?' Sorry, conflict of interest again!"

>"What about me?"

>The three of you turn to look at Rebecca; she looks determined, if a little bit frightened.

>"Stay out of this," Patricia says, "I've been trying to catch these two for months. You don't know what they've been up to."

>"Exactly..." you say, gears turning in your head, "She doesn't. We just met today. No conflict of interest."

>Patricia growls, taking a step toward you but flinches; the regulator chip must have given her a shock.

>One of the few totalitarian decisions of the state you actually agree with.

>"Well, Rebecca," Talia sighs, "I guess it's up to you. If you make a statement, you're getting tangled up in this."

>The tiger nods, taking a deep breath.

>"I don't think Anon meant for it to do that," she says, "He likes older guns, and he made a good point-- I don't think something that tiny would be a good machine gun."

>Patricia is shaking with rage, and you watch her shake it off with a few breaths.

>You wish you could do the same for the anxiety gripping you.

>"What's your full name?"

>"Rebecca Maldovich."

>"Well, Ms. Maldovich," Patricia says in a controlled manner, "Be that as it may, Anon committed a firearms negligence offense. As such, this event must still be investigated."

>"Bull-fucking-shit!" Talia yells, "Mechanical failure doesn't count for that! And if you're so eager to actually enforce that, why don't you go the next bay over and deal with the fucking yeens that I reported about seven times already?"

>"Calm down, Ms. Grilliz," Patricia says with a savory smile, "The state's priority-- not my priority-- is human offenders. Now, Anon, do you have anything to say?"

>You've got about a thousand things, but you know none of them are gonna help.

>Most would probably hurt

>You shake your head.

>Patricia huffs, a little disappointed. "Apparently you know your rights. Come along."

>She reaches for you, and again Talia shoves her away.

>"You're not taking him away," she growls, "I know my rights too. Nonviolent violation, at my range, under my supervision; he only goes if I say, and I say he doesn't."

>Pat's smug look falters for a moment, but she laughs again.

>"Can't wait to take you down too, Talia."

>She walks backwards away from the two of you and Rebecca, making sure you get a good look at her smug mug.

>"You've got a week."

>Damn it all.

>"A week?"

>"Before trial," Talia says to Rebecca.

>"The show trial," you correct her, "You know the court system is rigged."

>"One week before my rights get stripped and they put me in mandatory assignment."

>She can't say much to that, and neither does Rebecca.

>Slowly, you pack your gear up back into your range bag.

>"What are you doing?" Rebecca asks, still in a daze.

>"Going home," you say.

>"Now?" Talia hisses, "I'm in this too!"

>"I know."

>"Then what are you running for?" She asks, grabbing your arm and getting in your face.

>"Right now, the only way we get out of this is if we get a civil union," you whisper through grit teeth.

>She pulls back slightly, locking eyes.

>"For both our sakes, I'm going to try and see if there's another way out."

>She lets you go, walking back off down the range.

>You're in it now.

Chapter 2: Anticipation

>You wake up for good to the 'ping!' of a text.

>All the other times were from the usual things: being too hot, too cold, your arm falling asleep over your head...

>...And the impending sense of doom that's been hanging over you since yesterday, invading even your sleep.

>Looking at your phone, you see it's actually an email. One with state priority.

>The subject line reads "Notification of Investigation for: Multiple Charges."

>"Dear ANON ANONERSON,

>"This email is to inform you that you are currently under investigation for the following charges: 1 count of Firearms Negligence (Negligent Discharge), 2 counts of Illicit Possession (Manufacture and Possession of an Illegal Machinegun), 1 count of Perjury (False Courtship Claims), and 2 counts of Non-violent Obstruction of Justice (1 count of Harassing an Officer; 1 count of Perjury during Investigation). This investigation began yesterday (Sunday, 7/XX/20XX), following events occurring at the Shoktan Shooting Club (WCS Sector 11)."

>"The potential consequences of these charges include: loss of firearms privileges and confiscation of any associated property, accelerated State Evaluation schedule, and mandatory enrollment into the Civil Matchmaking Services System (CMSS)."

>"The investigating Officer (ATF division) has also recommended you be classed for Special Assignment in the CMSS system: due to your charges being non-violent, normal immediate restraints/restrictions will not apply during the course of this investigation. However, should you be found guilty, all normal Special Assignment restrictions and procedures will apply."

>"The court date for this investigation is: Sunday 7/XX+7/20XX. Arrive at the New Apple Municipal Complex at 10am: you will be escorted to the lower court by on-premises staff. In accordance with the indigenous beliefs of your sector, you will be afforded a public defendant to speak on your behalf by the State, if you do not have a lawyer on retainer."

>"If you have entered into a Civil Union prior to this court date, it is important to bring a copy of your certificate and/or your application form, as well as your spouse. This would dismiss one or more of the charges against you (False Courtship Claims, Illicit Possession)."

>You skim over the next few lines, full of the stock-standard state assurances and reminders

>"Remember that access to firearms is a privilege, not a right"

>"The state allows for the preservation of some historic practices in your region, not all"

>And of course, the ever popular "The Anthrostate has only your best interests at heart."

>The last few lines at the bottom catch your eye:

>"The reporting officer (Patricia A. Birch, ATF) has elected to release her contact information to you and the immediate witnesses of this case (Talia W. Grilliz, Rebecca T. Maldovich). Note that any communications with Officer BIRCH will be monitored and may be used during trial due to one or more charges against you (Harassing an Officer)."

>"Have a pleasant day,"

>"WCS 11 Justice Division"

>You groan, tempted to throw the phone but settling for setting it on the bedside table. That bitch is taunting you.

>And you know that she has your information-- if you try blocking her number, you'll probably get another obstruction of justice charge.

>Your phone lets out another 'ping!'; you pick it up with hesitation, telling yourself not to respond to her when you see it's from Talia.

>'Bitch got started early-- it's fucking 8am'

>At least this bullshit hasn't gotten to her sense of humor.

>'thought your text was from her,' you reply back.

>'No such luck. Didn't come up with anything last night, either. You?'

>'No. Half worried they're gonna send someone down here based on my search history alone'

>'That's ripe for jokes, but I'm not in the mood,' she sends back after a minute, 'We gotta figure this out.'

>"No shit," you say to yourself, but resist the urge to snap at her via text.

>'I know,' you write instead, 'Are you actually being charged with anything?'

>'courtship claims, harassing and obstructing an officer.'

>'Same for me, but add firearms negligence and possession/manufacturing a machinegun.'

>'Makes things a little easier to cover,' she sends back.

>'We need a good fucking lawyer,' you respond.

>'More to it than that. Lawyer can argue all they want, but the state can throw it out if there's no good evidence or witnesses.'

>You groan, rubbing your eyes.

>'You make it sound so bright and cheery'

>She goes quiet for a while, giving you some time to make breakfast before your phone goes off again.

>'Lets make another deal. I'll find someone who can help with the firearms charges for you, and you find someone who can work the perjury and harassment ones for the both of us. I've got people I can ask from being an RSO.'

>'And I've got...?'

>'Work to do. Talk to legal people, witnesses, secure evidence-- whatever you can'

>'...You sure it wouldn't be easier to just get a CU?'

>'You can get one,' she sends, 'just not with me'

>You sigh. Was worth shot.

>'Keep in touch. I'll update you at the end of the day.'

>You close your phone and clean up; at least you started the day early. All the more time for you to use.

>And you're going to need as much as you can get.

Chapter 3: Preparations

>After a little bit, you manage to calm yourself down.

>Talia's got you covered for half of the charges; you trust her when she says she's got someone that can deal with your firearm charges.

>What you're not sure about is if you've got a similar ace up your sleeve. Being a librarian doesn't exactly get you any contacts that are experts with relationships, real or not, legal or not.

>...In fact, most of the people there have relationship issues, if they've got a relationship at all.

>But if you can't get Talia tit for tat, you'll just have to produce some evidence. You go through the motions of making yourself breakfast, focused much more on the case than the eggs you're trying not to burn.

>How do you provide evidence of a relationship? At least, like the one you and Talia are supposed to have?

>You've faked stuff for appearances before-- given each other hugs, held hands, kisses on the cheek-- but somehow you don't think just doing that in the courtroom will work.

>You could go get a promise ring, as much as it'd make you gag-- or a collar, if you wanted her to smack you-- but it'd be a flimsy defense. You've no doubt the court would want evidence that it hadn't, in fact, been bought in the last week. And that would be harder to fake.

>The toaster you set up earlier chimes, and you hastily turn down the stove. Maybe your best option isn't to keep lying, and throw the whole case on its head. You know that Patricia has had it in for you both; all you need is some way to prove it beyond witness testimony.

>You type out a message to Talia one-handed as you plate up your buttery toast and eggs, but stop yourself before sending it.

>Maybe it's just paranoia, but that line in the email about 'monitoring communications' haunts you.

>It said it was just for stuff between you and Patricia, but this is the State. You have no doubt they'll be looking at any messages or calls you have with just about anyone, right now. It's better to just go and see Talia in person at work.

>Fortunately, she's working at FF Supply today, not the range. Not only will you be able to get the stuff that you need for the plan you almost sent Talia, but Patricia will have less of a legitimate reason to go there.

>And if she does, you'll have plenty of eyewitnesses and security footage to protect you, not to mention the rest of the store employees.

>The employees of the farming and general store know you fairy well, partially through Talia and partially through how much you go there; real or not, having a gf that gets you 20% off is nice.

>Plus, you've met her at work a few times before, too, so it won't be too unusual. In fact, it's where you two met for the first time two years ago.

>As you eat, that through about the State monitoring you makes your skin prickle. You look back at the morning exchange you had with her; there's not enough there to explicitly say that the two of you aren't actually in courtship, but it's still not a good look.

>The funny thing is that everything prior to that seems like the message history of two people in a relationship.

>Aside from the friendly conversation and the sharing of links, images, and other things, both of you started taking the piss out of the concept that you were an item together. Whenever one of you was bored at work, it was almost an obligation to send the other something with an obnoxious amount of emojis and a message so lovey-dovey that it made you want to throw up.

>'saw this ???? book, thought of u. can't wait to see ???? u again bby ???????????? and ? ur ????'

>The other person, of course, would then try to top it.

>'mmm, me 2!! ????????????! want u 2 ???? my ???? so bad rn.....'

>You sigh, clearing your plate and getting dressed; maybe submitting that as evidence would work. You've both been doing it a long time, there's at least the history aspect of it going for it.

>Or maybe you'll make the court so embarrassed from the overload of heart emojis and braindead messaging that they'll let you go just to get you out of the room.

>"Hey Anon. You lookin' for Talia?" Beth asks.

>"Yep," you tell the huge cow, "She on counter duty today?"

>"No, actually."

>She gives you a weird look, one that you return.

>"They have her doing floorwork now. It's weird, since we've only got like her, Jess, and Philip that can even work the gun counter."

>"That is strange..."

>You've no doubt you'll hear about it when you find the she-wolf, and you've got a bad feeling about why it is she got put there.

>"Hang on, I can page her for you," Beth says, turning to the customer service desk.

>"No! No, no, that's fine," you say quickly. "Just have her go to the game bait aisle, I just wanted to talk to her about something there anyway."

>The cow gives you another side-eye the way only her kind can, but says nothing as she resumes her trip to the phone. You start heading to the aisle, thinking through what you're going to say when you hear it.

>"Talia Grilliz, customer assistance in Aisle E2, Talia Grilliz, Aisle E2."

>You cringe a little-- you'd expected the cow to just use the radio. At least she didn't announce to the whole store that it was you, her 'boyfriend,' that needed assistance. Talia wouldn't likely be pleased with that.

>...Though maybe it could've been added to the scant pile of shitty evidence...

>The she-wolf is already there when you arrive, her usual outfit of denim and some button-up replaced by her FF Supply uniform. The jeans she wears today are a little more presentable than the ones she wears to the range. The blaze-orange shirt is tucked in tight, the little nametag on the chest the only thing adorning it aside from a small logo.

>"Anon," she says with a little more grumble than usual, "What are you doing here?"

>"I'm here to shop, of course," you say, then lean in close: "I've got an idea, but I need your help."

>The she-wolf gives a slight nod before cajoling you in her most overbearing customer service voice.

>"Of course, sir, I can take you right to the industrial-size canisters of bull-lube!"

>You groan.

>She doesn't actually take you there of course-- the aisle its in is always busy.

>...usually because of the product she mentioned...

>Instead, she takes you to the lumber yard. There's plenty of space, and the ambient noise from being outside gives you enough privacy from eavesdropping.

>"Alright what's your plan?" Talia asks you, crossing her arms. "You find some divorce lawyer that wants a change of pace?"

>"No. We're going to get some evidence."

>"I am not wearing a promise ring."

>"Not what I was going to suggest," you say, "I don't want to try and fake some old photos with one either. I wasn't kidding when I said I came here to shop; you guys still have trail cams, right?"

>The she-wolf raises an eyebrow, her ears sticking straight up.

>"Yeah. What're you planning?"

>"If we can't prove that we're together, then we just have to prove that this whole thing is bullshit."

>"Which it is," she snorts. "What are we recording?"

>"Pat," you say simply.

>Talia begins to smirk despite herself.

>"We put them up along the shooting shelters, and have her put on a show. There's already cameras in the entry shack, right?"

>"Yeah... and we've got a sign saying 'surveillance on premises,' so she can't try and get it thrown out."

>The she-wolf's smile falters a little.

>"How do you know she'll be there?"

>"Remember how the email said 'communications will be monitored? I get the feeling they don't just mean with her."

>Talia nods after a moment, grunting.

>"...And that's why you had to come here in person..."

>"No, I came by to see my girlfriend," you chuckle.

>Talia gives you that signature glare of hers, crossing her arms with a huff.

>"Use my discount, more like," she mutters.

>"That too."

>"Alright, fine. I'm guessing you're planning on coming to the range tomorrow for this little act, since that's when I'll be working?"

>You nod.

>"We go there tonight or something when it's closed and set things up, and exchange messages like I'm planning on coming to test something."

>"Good," she says, pulling out her phone, "I'll be outside your place at 10. Might not be in my car; I'll see if I can't borrow the twins'."

>It's your turn to give her the look; her sisters' car was a human-sized beater. Why would she want it?

>And hell, her sisters are both off for the summer: they're probably not even in New Apple for college right now.

>She looks up at you when she finishes the text-- presumably to her sisters-- and gives you a sarcastic smile.

>"I figured we were going all secret-agent, we wouldn't want to use our trucks."

>Ahh.

>Glad to see you're not the only one paranoid.

>"Fair point," you say, stepping away from the shelving you were leaning on. "Let's go and--"

>"Wait."

>You turn back to her, there's a little displeasure on her face.

>"I'm stuck on floor duty for another hour before lunchbreak. Can you keep me company till then, at least?"

>You think for a moment; you've got nothing planned, since you're also suspended from work for a week, and there's not much you can do about the trial until tonight.

>Plus, it'll give the two of you time to work the plan out in a bit more detail.

>"I suppose I could-- for a kiss."

>Talia growls before walking past you back to the building, slugging you in the arm.

>"Come on, let's look at those cams."

>"Hey, that wasn't a kiss!"

>"Oh, it was," she laughs roughly, "I can hit a lot harder than that, 'boyfriend.'"

>You take your time looking at the cameras and settling on a way to mount them. Talia's in no hurry, and wandering the store with you at least makes it look like she's doing her job.

>She kind of is, in a way. And you're an easier customer for her to deal with than anyone else.

>As you think about it, you realize how strange the concept of her as one of the store's floor-walkers is. She's not exactly a people-person, to put it lightly. Not a fan of small-talk, not a fan of answering the same questions all the time, not a fan of most people in general.

>After exhausting the topics of 'how we're going to trick Pat,' and 'how not to act like we're tricking Pat tomorrow,' you decide to bring up a more tender one.

>"Any idea why they put you on floor duty?" you ask quietly, rummaging through the various boxes of small, press-on magnets.

>The plan is to put the cameras on the roof of the shooting shelters-- the metal underside should be easy to put magnetic camera mounts on.

>"Got a few," she says. "Manager at least had the decency to tell me in person at the start of my shift."

>"What'd they say? Was it that shitty one?"

>"No, wasn't the boar-bitch. It was Cammy-- the new mongoose one. She's okay."

>Talia sighs, and you wonder if the messenger being half-decent is the only reason she's not fuming, or even here right now.

>"She told me that someone above her called in, and that I was on floor duty until they said otherwise. Said there wasn't anything she could do, and that they wouldn't say why."

>You snort.

>"No bullshit excuses about restructuring, or shifting your skillset?"

>"No."

>She goes quiet, and you debate on telling her your theory.

>She is your friend, after all.

>'Girlfriend,' even.

>"I got suspended from work this whole week," you start off. She doesn't react, so you go on.

>"Got an email this morning saying that 'due to the outstanding charges against me, authorities have recommended that I be given time off for my mental health.'"

>That gets her to laugh.

>"I get the feeling the same thing happened to you-- except Patricia can't throw her weight at another anthro so easily."

>"I was wondering how you could come in," Talia says, "Here-- this one will do."

>She shoves a few packages of magnets towards you. You put them in the basket, following her as she walks off and checks her watch.

>"Still like half an hour," she sighs, "Let's take our time with the cameras, eh?"

>"Do you think I'm right?" you ask, voice low, "About Pat, I mean?'

>"Of course you are," the she-wolf replies, voice just as quiet, "Just more State bullshit. Same thing as what got you and me into this whole mess."

>Her last words stick in your mind as the two of you go to the trail cameras, only interrupted once or twice by coworkers or other customers. Both of whom she kindly informed that she was busy assisting someone else at the moment.

>You don't say much as she 'assists' you, looking at the various models for the features you'll need. You're still stuck on those words.

>By the time the two of you decide on a model to get-- a budget, basic model that's got rocky camo to blend into the metal roof of the shooting shacks-- you decide you're overthinking it.

>The two of you are friends, period. You probably would be even if the state didn't make your friendship into a silver bullet for their bullshit policies.

>"...Perfect timing." Talia says when you stow the six cameras in your basket, "Lunchbreak will start by the time we get to the register."

>"Cool," you say, turning to lead the way, "If you wouldn't mind getting me that discount before you go, I can leave you to---"

>"Anon?"

>The she-wolf stops you with a hand on the shoulder, getting you to turn back to her.

>Talia has always had a bit of a resting bitch face, her lips slightly downturned, her ears pricked, and eyes slightly lidded.

>Now, her ears are drooped slightly, her eyes are wide, and her frown is more pronounced.

>"You wanna do lunch with me? In the breakroom?"

>What?

>"I'll get you a noodle cup or something, come on."

>"I-I guess, sure," you say-- though by the time you do, she's grabbed your hand and is pulling you along.

>The two of you have never done anything like this before. Sure, you've stopped by while she's working to shoot the shit (and maybe to get her discount), and you've done lunch together a few times.

>But she's never brought you behind the scenes.

>You doubt it's because of her coworkers, since they've made it very clear they think it's cute when you come by.

>...You hope it's not because of them...

>After you check out, she takes you to the back. It’s about what you expected it to be; FF Supply is a warehouse, with the few interior walls being fairly thin. The plywood is visible here on the non-customer side, and the breakroom itself is back behind one of the larger interior walls, next to a bunch of packaged inventory.

>The walls for it slightly thicker, reducing the ambient noise somewhat inside the small room. Given the number of anthro workers, you're not surprised; one of the most common changes made to pre-state buildings is upping the soundproofing and softening acoustics. In this case, the company appears to have used some of their own inventory to do just that.

>Otherwise, though, the room is like any other breakroom you've been in. There's a fridge, a microwave, and a hot-water pot on a small counter that has the same rough appearance as everything back here. The number of tables and chairs is fairly sparse, but it at least means the space is easy to move around in. No plowing through chairs, even for larger employees like Beth.

>She happens to be taking her break as you and Talia arrive, along with a few other employees—so if that was Talia’s concern, well, hopefully it won’t be too bad.

>They all stare at you as you trail in behind the she-wolf, conversation slowing. The soft country songs of the radio fill the air before people go back to their sandwiches, chips, and gossip.

>"Come on," Talia says to you as she leads the way through. You recognize most of the small crowd, though you only remember the cow's name.

>The she-wolf rummages in the fridge while you microwave your styrofoam-encased feast, her tail bobbing out behind her. By the time your cup is ready, she's waiting with crossed arms.

>Her lunchbag is predictably small and camo-colored, its contents prepacked and vacuum sealed save the apple.

>...Even after your decade and a half of State-sponsored education, it's still weird that she can eat stuff other than meat... even weirder that she has to like you.

>The two of you sit down at one of the empty tables, and she hands you a fork that looks like it came straight from a mess kit. You blow on your noodles, and the she-wolf lets out a long sigh, slouching down in her chair with closed eyes.

>The cat with the blaze-pink shirt rather than the standard blaze-orange chooses to talk right when the two of you are taking your first bites.

>"You two doing something special after work?" she asks, looking at you with interest.

>"No, Kaia," the she-wolf replies for you. Her tone is especially curt, but the cat appears to either miss it or not care.

>"Well, what's he doing here, then? You don't normally bring your cutie back here..."

>You see Talia's lip curl slightly-- this cat picked the wrong day.

>But you're not about to let the she-wolf make her situation any more worse.

>"I prefer 'city boy,' thank you," you say before Talia can snap.

>The cat titters, the other eyes in the room being drawn to you-- including the ones of your 'girlfriend.'

>"I didn't take you for that," Kaia goes on, "why does the big, bad wolf call you that, Anon?"

>So she does know your name.

>You ignore her for a bit, scooping up a forkful of noodles while Talia slowly takes a bite of her kibble-bar.

>"I grew up in a small town," you say, loading up your next bite, "but someone is awful proud of growing up in the middle of nowhere. So now I'm her 'city boy.'"

>"Where was it you grew up?"

>It seems curiosity also strikes cows.

>"Plainfield," you tell Beth. She snorts, shaking her head.

>"That ain't a city. And I know from what she tells me that you ain't no city boy."

>You barely manage to stifle a grin, looking at the she-wolf.

>"Well, I'm her city boy," you say, leaning heavy on the twang as you reach a hand out and put it over hers, "Just like she's my moon munchkin..."

>The breakroom is filled with laughter-- though Talia's amber eyes are filled with that familiar, begrudging displeasure as she struggles not to smirk.

>She is your 'moon munchkin--' it's one of your favorite things to call her during your sappy messaging competitions, just like how she only calls you 'city boy' there.

>Saying that mushy stuff out loud is ten times better than typing it, even more so with an audience.

>"God, you're making me regret buying you that noodle cup already," she says-- and then she grabs your hand, pawpads and fur covering it.

>The look she gives you makes your arm hurt already.

>You check your phone again: 9:55.

>Talia is usually early because she drives like a madwoman, but it seems like her sisters' smaller car may be giving her problems.

>Hopefully she'll still show up-- and hopefully she'd leave your arm alone. She hit you again on the way out, and her lovetaps hurt.

>Though that's not surprising. These aren't the first, not by a longshot.

>The squeaking of a suspension rouses you from the fond memories of the two of you keeping up appearances. You barely recognize the light-colored sedan, having seen it once or twice when you went up to Talia's parents' place.

>The chunk of the locks is loud when you approach, and you can't help but chuckle when you get inside.

>"Shut up," Talia growls as she turns the car back to the street, crammed inside like a clown.

>Her seat is all the way back, but her legs still are bent at the knee, and she has to lean down between them over the steering wheel from her height.

>"Your sisters should pay you for cleaning the inside of the windshield," you snort as the four-cylinder does its best.

>The she-wolf just growls again. You spare her, relaxing into the seat while the radio plays softly.

>You feel a little excited, which is probably good considering your situation. You're pretty sure Talia is as well, though her ears are pressed against the headliner at the moment.

>You glance over at her; her outfit is a little unusual, you notice. Her jeans aren't ripped or torn like her usual ones, no tufts of gray fur poking out, but they're too dark to be her uniform jeans. And the jacket she has on is camo, a darker woodland pattern.

>But it's the hood that makes you laugh.

>"Quite the fashion statement."

>"Okay, Mr. shorts-and-hawaiian-shirt."

>"I don't think we're going to need to stalk anyone or anything while we're there, Talia."

>"Better hope not, your librarian legs fucking glow in the moonlight."

>You feign offense, gasping as you look at her.

>"Your fuzzy mug will do the same, anyway," you say after giving her a moment to smirk.

>"Fuck you, Anon."

>"Fuck you, Talia."

>The rest of the ride is thankfully uneventful, no four-legged deer deciding to prance around the old Sector roads on the way to the gravel lot. It's abandoned, of course, the dusk ceasefire long since passed.

>Still, you feel a need to be quiet when you slip out of the car, stifling your amusement as Talia extracts herself with a distinct lack of grace.

>You can hear her ass hit the gravel and a soft swear from her side of the car as she practically falls out; you're lucky you're busy grabbing the cameras and mounting equipment from the back, or she'd probably kill you.

>"Ready?" you ask, setting the bags down and gently closing the door.

>"Yeah, yeah," she says, heading towards the gate.

>"Always eager to go to the range..." she mutters as she works the various locks.

>"Well, that's why I started dating you..." you mutter back.

>"Shut up," she laughs, opening the gate.

>The two of you slip through, the moonlight letting you see the vague shapes of the different mounds, shelters, and signs.

>You were right-- Talia's face does kind of glow in the pale light.

>A look down says she was right about you, too.

>Maybe you'll take a vacation somewhere nice with the money you get from the countersuit...

>When the two of you arrive at the first shooting shelter, you set down the bag of equipment on the table and turn to the she-wolf.

>"You tall enough to reach the roof?"

>Talia stretches at your question, claws scraping softly against the metal. She walks back, losing contact about halfway through.

>"Not where we need it."

>"Hmmf. What then?"

>When she's silent for a few moments, you look up at her; she's looking down at you, an expression of concentration highlighted by the moonlight.

>"What...? Talia--"

>"Get on the bench, I got an idea."

>You climb up after a second or two. You trust her.

>"Grab the gear," she directs, looking up at you with crossed arms.

>The white fur of the underside of her tail bobs in the moonlight as you rustle through the bag, crossing into shadow and back as it sways.

>"Okay. Now what?"

>"Stay still and work fast," the she-wolf says, before closing the gap between you.

>Her arms wrap around you upper thighs, and you hiss out an expletive as she lifts you from the bench. It's all you can do to not clock her in the head as you try to stabilize yourself, not to mention avoiding smashing your head into the ceiling.

>"Quit squirming!" she growls, bouncing you up a little as her bear-hug on your legs tightens, "Where's that human backbone you're so proud of?"

>"That's-- metaphorical and you know it!"

>After a precarious half-minute or so, you don't feel like Talia's going to accidentally pull a wrestling move on you. She slowly begins moving towards the back of the shelter, where the ceiling is highest-- and the camera the most out of sight.

>"You gonna be able to hold me?" you ask, ducking under rafters as she goes.

>"I've dealt with bags of feed that are heavier," she grunts, the feeling of her throat on your hips strange.

>"...But hurry the fuck up..."

>The two of you repeated the same process for all six bays, and your mouth was slightly sore from holding the flashlight in your teeth so you could actually see what you were doing.

>Because you actually had an idea of what the she-wolf was planning, the other installs went a bit easier, though you still didn't exactly feel safe.

>But considering the benches were set into the concrete slabs, and the stools at them weren't exactly stable or meant to take some 7-foot wolf chick standing on them, it was the best option you had.

>The feeling of Talia breathing against your stomach was strange, as was the feeling of her hold on you. You and her have hugged before, but it was weird to feel her chest on your legs rather than anywhere else-- and to feel her holding you that tight.

>You would have liked to test the cameras to make sure they have a good angle, but that would involve going up there and taking them down again. And neither of you really was in any hurry to do that.

>Besides, you're sure they're set up at a good angle.

>"So you really never sneak out here at night?" you ask Talia as she locks the gate, "Never, not even once?"

>"No. I can shoot off my back porch."

>"But not at night!"

>She snorts, double checking the locks.

>"Why would I want to?"

>"Muzzle-flash. And those not-tracer bullets."

>"Maybe they're neat to your puny eyes, buddy, but they kill my night vision."

>She steps away, satisfied, and starts towards the car.

>"So you're saying you don't like fireworks?"

>"Never said that," she says, unlocking your door before going around to hers, "That's different."

>You snort as you get in, able to pass off your laughter as being at her remark rather than the difficulties she has squeezing in.

>"How so? Both are loud, both are bright. Both are pretty expensive."

>"They're not usually right in front of my face, dumbass," the she-wolf grunts, and the car shudders to life.

>You stay quiet as she pulls out from the gravel lot. You're tired despite all the excitement, and you get the sense she is too.

>That and she clearly takes no joy in driving the small beater.

>You stare out the window; the moon casts everything in a silver sheen.

>Trees flash by, the lush roadside grasses and bushes obscuring the forest floors beneath.

>Farm-fields stretch off into forever, their crops ranging from barely sprouts to tall stalks or full-formed bushes, dotting the slight slopes of the landscape.

>You sigh; you really wish you could move out of the city. Even if it's still part of the state, these spaces-- those places between cities, between towns-- feel like they contain some ounce of freedom. Some ounce of hope.

>"Every now and then," Talia suddenly says, voice quiet, "daddy would surprise us back when we were kids."

>You turn to look at her: she appears focused on the road, hunched over.

>"He'd pull boxes of fireworks from nowhere-- don't know if he got'em that day, or if he'd been saving them-- but he'd pull them out and give each of us a lighter."

>She chuckles softly to herself, a grin gracing her lips.

>"First couple times he and momma kept us at arms length, making sure we didn't blow our hands off. But after that, he'd just toss us the lighters and say 'go put on a show for me and your ma.' And so we did."

>You can imagine it; you've been up to her parents' place a few times, and the farm has large, open fields. Plenty of sky to use.

>"But that's not why I love fireworks, Anon. You know how I go up there before I go off in the woods? And after?"

>You give a hum of acknowledgement; words aren't necessary.

>"Well, since he and momma know just when I'd be coming back, they wait for me to pull into the driveway. And then, he and Apollo and Atlas light the fuses to big 'ol boxes of them."

>A hum escapes her, as she slips a few hours north to her parent's place.

>"I don't even need the headlights, Anon. That's how bright it all gets."

>She sighs, her smile fading a little.

>"If it weren't for things like that, I don't know if I'd ever come back from those trips. I could do it, you know. Just stay out there in the woods forever. I'm sure of it."

>You don't doubt her, but you don't ask the obvious question of 'why don't you.'

>Instead you stay quiet as the city approaches, the moonlight dying to streetlights.

>You're a bit surprised when the she-wolf gets out when she pulls up to your apartment, popping the door as you turn to thank her.

>"Uh, thanks, Talia," you say, doing the same, "You just stretching?"

>"--yep--" she grunts, stretching to her full height, arms above her head.

>The curves of her silhouette stand out as she twists in place, and you're pretty sure you hear a couple cracks.

>"Well, see you tomorrow," you say, and turn to the doors. You hear her groan a little more behind you, all of it capped off by a loud huff.

>"Hey, Anon."

>You turn around, and she's on your side of the car, catching up to you.

>"What's up?"

>Her ear flicks as she looks down at you, and then she grabs you again, this time in a proper hug.

>Normally, she crouches down a bit when she does-- being as tall as she is, her rack is just about head-height for you-- but she doesn't this time, and your face is pressed into the extra-soft flannel.

>"Thanks for coming up with something," she says after a moment, though she doesn't let go. Your arms drift into place around her back, and she doesn't mind. You grunt a 'mm-hmm' into her chest, not bothering with words.

>Though this time, it's because they'd end up muffled to shit.

>After a while she finally pulls back, letting you go, staring down at you again with a warm expression.

>"You're a good friend, Anon," she says, mussing your hair, "I'll see you tomorrow."

>You stare at her as she walks back around the car, managing to get out a "you too," before she squeezes herself into the little sedan. You wave to her one last time before you head inside, taking the stairs slow.

>It's late, and you're tired. You're in a sort of trance as you prepare for bed, going through the motions.

>As you lie down, you tell yourself that whatever happens, it'll all be over tomorrow. Or the end of the week.

>But one little thought keeps you awake, just a little bit longer. The one thought that's in your mind.

>"Why didn't you say 'And you're a good girlfriend' when she walked off?"

Chapter 4: Showtime

>"Anon?"

>You turn back to Rebecca, who's standing there with her revolver still pointed down range.

>"Right, sorry. Let's see how you did..."

>You can hardly blame yourself for feeling distracted. You've got a date, but she hasn't shown up yet.

>Taking one last look back towards the RSO shack, you walk downrange with the tigress.

>Rebecca wasn't part of the original plan, but you decided to try and make good on your offer of help, texting her earlier in the morning. That, and it'd hopefully make her testimony even more helpful when the time comes.

>...And some little part of you is worried about what Pat would do if it was just you and Talia.

>The range is fairly busy, though, so hopefully Rebecca won't be on her own if Officer Bitch decides to try and kill you and Talia. It also let you convince Aki to let Rebecca borrow some of her toys.

>The tigress hasn't gone out to get a piece of her own yet, after all-- though Aki seemed enthusiastic about helping her out.

>You feel a little bad, knowing that her little training session is inevitably going to be interrupted, but ultimately that's on Pat for showing up late. Your text to Talia was very clear that you'd be there 'by 4.'

>Rebecca's latest group with the Redhawk was slightly to the left, though she's getting everything on paper now. .44 magnum doesn't mean much when you're that big, you suppose.

>"Nice work, just a little off here," you say, marking the holes with a sharpie. "Try to pull the trigger, don't squeeze it-- makes your hand turn a little when you do."

>"Okay, got it," the tigress says, sweet as ever.

>"Let's see... we've still got the Tridentia 10X to try. Want to move onto that?"

>"Sure!"

>The two of you walk back to the bench; still no Pat, the way down to the entrance clear of any foreboding figures.

>You feel the tingle of the camera on the top of your head as you look over the table full of guns, yours re-packed and set apart from Aki's. It's been tough not looking up at it, but you've managed.

>Rebecca hasn't noticed it, which is fortunate considering she nearly scrapes the roof when she stands, having to stoop under the eaves.

>"Okay, so this is kind of like the Desert Eagle you used earlier. Same basic controls, but the safety just drops the hammer down like this."

>Rebecca nods attentively as you give her the overview of the gun. The edition that Aki has is a bit different than standard, a decocker-only with the springs all adjusted. You walk her out closer to the target, starting off at 10 yards, and check over her stance and grip as she makes ready, spare magazines in your pockets.

>She jumps at the first shot, an unusual occurrence. A little shake of the head seems to set her straight, though, and she handles the 10mm like it's .22 the rest of the mag.

>You let out a low whistle; most of her shots landed within the first two rings of the basic, circular target, her group solid.

>"What was that first little jump?" you ask, handing her the next magazine and taking the old one.

>"It just... didn't take much!" she chirps, hitting the slide lock. "I didn't expect it to shoot so quick."

>As Rebecca fires the next string of shots, you decipher what she said; Aki having a hair trigger installed doesn't surprise you in the slightest.

>"You want to try going a back a bit?" you suggest, and the tigress nods. Her groups spread out slightly, but they're still impressive.

>"You like that gun?" you ask when the two of you go up to inspect the target, your pockets rattling with empty magazines.

>"Yes, I think so," the tigress replies, now inspecting the patterns on the cardboard herself. "It almost feels right in my hand, and it doesn't really... jump."

>"Well, I know they make larger models called 'XL's," you say, undoing the target. "It doesn't jump much because it's only in 10mm; a bigger round will mean more recoil, but the larger model should counteract that somewhat. And, like I said before, Aki's had some work done to this gun."

>"Maybe I can ask her about it, then!"

>You smile when you turn back to her, presenting her the target.

>"Here, if you want to keep it. I like to, but I'm a bit sentimental."

>The hum she gives off cuts through your earpro as she takes the shredded-up paper, returning your smile.

>"Okay then, lets--"

>Fucking FINALLY

>You see the German shepherd underneath the shooting shelter, and after a momentary bit of relief, your heart sinks.

>Not because she's merely there-- no, you were expecting her.

>It's because she's rooting around in your stuff-- including one gun you're sure she wants to get her conniving, confiscating paws on.

>"Hey!"

>She doesn't even look up when you yell at her, all but jogging back towards the shelter. Rebecca follows at a more normal gait with a disconcerted grunt.

>You let out one of your own when you get close enough to see that it's the Kolibri she's fucking with.

>"What are you doing, Pat?" you ask, close enough now that she's unable to ignore you. "You see those red, flashing lights? You can't handle anything while people are down range, much less someone else's stuff!"

>"Shut up, perp," she says, continuing to turn the tiny gun around in one paw while scribbling down notes with the other, "Don't try to bullshit me. I'm confiscating your little machine gun here."

>"On what grounds?!" you ask, getting around the bench quickly, right in the camera's view, "Put my gun down, Pat, you're flagging me and Rebecca!"

>"Fuck off," she snorts, sneering at you. "You made a machine gun, Anon; you didn't think it'd be taken as evidence?"

>"It's not a machine gun," you say, about to try and grab it away when you realize how dumb of a move that'd be. Where's your back-up?

>"The hell are you doing, Patricia?"

>There it is.

>Talia seems to have appeared from nowhere, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She glances down the bay as she walks underneath the shelter's roof, giving a nod to Rebecca.

>"Why is the cold range light on?"

>"Rebecca and I were shooting at 15 yards, but when we turned around Patricia was flailing my gun around!"

>"Confiscating," the bitch corrects, "Quit acting like that's what you're worried about, perp. Putting on a show for your 'girl friend' won't--"

>The teasing air quotes were Patricia's mistake. As the Kolibri bobs up and down in her grip, Talia springs and pushes down on the shepherdess' gun hand. The tiny piece easily disappears when Pat closes her fist and snarls, but it at least gets her to pull it away from everyone.

>A huge paw grabs your shoulder, and you find yourself forcibly taking cover behind Rebecca. She keeps you pressed to her thigh, even when Patricia breaks the brief growling match and starts to laugh.

>"You just screwed up, whore," she says, stretching to her full height. "You just assaulted an officer while under investigation."

>"What I did was my job, Officer Bitch!"

>You cringe slightly; you talked with the she-wolf about trying to play things up for the camera, over-aggression being one of those things to avoid.

>"You not only handled a gun while the cold light was on, but you were flagging all three of us standing here talking! I don't care if you're an ATF Agent, I don't care if you're the fucking First Chairwoman; you will follow the goddamn rules on my goddamn range!"

>"Doesn't matter, you--"

>"It's my job as RSO to make sure dumbasses don't flail their guns around, so no one gets fucking shot!"

>The shepherdess snorts again, seeming to take pleasure in your partner's fury.

>"I carry a gun on me every day, Talia. You think I don't know how to be safe with one?"

>"That isn't your gun," you pipe up from behind the titanic tiger's thigh; she shushes you, pressing you further into it as the two canines turn and seem to realize what you and Rebecca are doing for the first time.

>Patricia openly laughs now, relaxing.

>"You gonna let her steal your man like that, Talia?" she teases, "Oh, that's right-- he's not!"

>The once soft thigh you're hiding behind goes tense, and Rebecca eases up on her grip.

>"I- I was just trying to protect him. Talia, I--"

>"No, it's fine," the she-wolf says, focused on Patricia. "Go ahead and show us the gun's clear, Pat. Pull the trigger downrange, if you're so confident."

>Ears flatten, lips curl as the two of them stare at each other, the tiny pistol shifting up in Pat's grip.

>"It is," she growls, managing to pinch the petite pistol in the closest she can get to a firing grip.

>"I'll do you one better,"

>Then she points it at Talia, and squeezes.

>You had intended on giving both Patricia and the camera a demonstration.

>You'd spent the entire morning tinkering with the Kolibri, going through your notes, trying to figure out what'd made it fire the way it did.

>Given how little there really was about the gun, you were mostly on your own. You were thankful that it's centerfire, or testing would have been a real pain.

>Not that you were thrilled about dry firing something that's a century and a half old.

>The problem, you figured out, was with the ammo, not the gun.

>The trigger reset every time like it was supposed to when you held the gun normally, but when you shook it in a small fit of frustration, you felt the striker fall again.

>The cartridges-- the ones you fired being of your own making-- were overloaded. Not enough to blow anything up or severely damage it, thankfully, but just enough to temporarily bend the tight tolerances of the tiny parts enough that the striker wasn't getting locked back.

>You were going to explain this-- admittedly not in the detail you'd have liked-- to Patricia and tell her that you were going to test a new batch of ammo that you'd reduced the powder load on, changing it to a slightly slower-burning one as well. Maybe you could end everything right then and there.

>The shepherdess likely wouldn't have let you get through very much, and almost certainly wouldn't have dropped the case even if you tested it in front of her and it worked correctly.

>But it still was a better option than watching Talia get shot in the nose.

>"GaAaah!"

>The she-wolf recoils back and collapses against the support of the shelter, paws going to her nose as her eyes squeeze shut.

>Patricia stares at the gun for a moment, eyes wide, her ears poking straight up.

>You know the tiny projectiles aren't lethal, having just about the same sting as a BB gun, but she doesn't. You rush over to Talia's side, ignoring whatever the shepherdess is doing. She starts to say something, but a rumbling growl rattles the roof of the shelter, one that could only be coming from the person whose head brushes the top of it.

>"I'm here, Talia," you gush, surprised at how quickly the words tumble out, "Talia, you okay? Talia?"

>You stroke her head as she holds her nose, giving her a half hug with your other arm.

>The she-wolf lets out a high-pitched whine, and nods slightly.

>"...This is your fault, you little prick."

>You continue holding and stroking Talia, pretending you don't hear the shepherdess.

>"You left it loaded. If you--"

>"You shot her in the face!"

>Rebecca's shout makes you jump, squeezing Talia tighter.

>"I'm no expert, but even I know that's not how you prove a gun is empty!"

>You look up for a moment, and see the tigress towering over the ATF agent, her back scraping against the eaves.

>It's with some pleasure that you note Patricia's tail is between her legs, her ears flat and lips curled in defiance-- but her posture gives it all away.

>"I told you before, tiger. Back off."

>"I think you should, before I call the cops and tell them an ATF agent just shot an employee in the face."

>The shepherdess snarls some more, but turns tail and walks off.

>You don't care that it's with your gun, you realize.

>Instead, you press your head against Talia's, whispering that it'll be alright.

>You stroke her fur, giving it a kiss.

>The two of you freeze up when you realize what you just did; she takes a hand away from her nose and wraps it around you, pulling you closer.

>"You-- fucking-- owe me--" she whispers, each one pained.

>You hum in acknowledgment, hugging her.

>"Is she alright?"

>Rebecca is crouched down by the two of you now, still probably taller than you.

>"I think--"

>"Yeah--" Talia interrupts, slowly taking her hand away, "Yeah, it just-- fuck, does it sting!"

>You take a look at her nose; by some miracle, Patricia managed to not send it up one of the she-wolf's nostrils. There's a bit of blood, and the spot where her skin split is already beginning to swell.

>"Oh, fuck," you hiss, almost reaching to prod at her nose, "where's the slug?"

>Talia growls, showing you a hand, the poppy-seed-sized ball of lead sticking to her main pawpad.

>"Okay; is there a vending machine or something in the RSO shack, Talia?" Rebecca asks, her tone surprisingly calm, "Something that we can ice that with?"

>"Yeah-- go ask Sally," the she-wolf hisses.

>The tigress moves with surprising speed, hurrying off towards the shack. As you watch her, a glint catches your eye-- the singular brass casing from the Kolibri.

>"So that did fix it..." you mutter to yourself, picking up the golden grain of rice and pocketing it.

>"Hey Anon?" Talia says, the pain making it hard to tell if she's truly pissed at you or not.

>"Yeah?"

>She grabs your hand and pulls you into her lap, wrapping an arm around you while the other one keeps you away from her nose.

>"Hold me, dumbass."

>You squeak a little as she squeezes; you can feel her breaths hitch occasionally as she pants. Your arms slip around her easily, after a moment, and you each rest your chins on the other's shoulder.

>You feel her draw in a deep breath, and sigh.

>You do the same.

>"Sorry."

>She grunts, and after a moment, pulls your head back.

>Very carefully, very gingerly, she kisses your forehead.

>"Ain't your fault," she says, returning the hug to normal.

>The claws in your back make you unsure if she means it, or if it's just from the pain-- but that's not the sensation you're stuck on.

>It's the tingling on your forehead.

>You still feel it, if faintly, hours later when you return.

>Talia is early this time, already in the gravel lot when you pull up in the Hilux, just the running lights on.

>The two of you didn't really have a chance to talk after everything that happened, only able to exchange a few words out of earshot from both the cameras and the small crowd of various range members. Meeting up later and taking the cameras down was the easiest thing to do.

>The bandage on Talia's nose glows in the moonlight, but you've got the sense not to mention it.

>She doesn't mention the stepladder you've brought with you, either.

>"You doing better?" you ask, following her as she leads the way to the gate.

>"What do you think?"

>Her voice is nasal, but the unhappy tone is unmistakable.

>"That sucks... how long is it going to be on for?"

>"Hopefully it'll be off by the trial."

>You cringe a little, lugging the stepladder with you to the first bay.

>"Why'd you bring Rebecca?" the she-wolf asks, taking the ladder. "That wasn't part of the plan."

>"Hey hey, shhh! The camera--"

>"Relax, Mr. Bond, it's off. I shut 'em all down when we closed for the day."

>Her insistence on staying after getting shot in the face makes much more sense now.

>"She volunteered to be a witness," you say after a sigh, "and since she's the only third party that saw what happened that first time, I figured buttering her up wouldn't be a bad move."

>The she-wolf grunts, tossing the camera to you as she moves on.

>"...And, you know, I said I'd help her."

>She looks back at you for a few seconds, then sets the ladder down at the next spot.

>"Yep, you've got a crush on her."

>"Wha--!? No, I don't! What makes you say that?"

>"You invited her, and you were plenty happy to get pressed up against her leg."

>You blow a spluttering raspberry as Talia tosses the next camera down.

>"Okay, first off," you say, "no, I don't. Second, what the hell am I supposed to do when some tiger chick twice my size does something like that?"

>"Say 'no?'"

>"She wasn't coming onto me, Talia, you know that."

>"What was she doing then?"

>You pause for a second, the she-wolf's smirk only half visible from her pale undercoat.

>"Being motherly," you decide. "Same thing as when she went and got an icepack for you."

>Talia grunts, mounting the ladder for shelter number three.

>"Okay, fine. But you still invited her."

>"Because I made a promise!" you counter, catching the next camera with ease. "Look, if I made Aki the same promise, I'd do the same thing."

>The she-wolf laughs, the bandage making it sound strange-- and you notice a few winces in there as well.

>"If you made that promise to Aki, she'd call you a geezer and turn it around on you..."

>"You know what I mean!"

>She huffs, but doesn't respond.

>"What took you so long, anyway?" you ask her when the two of you walk under shelter four. "I've got no idea how long she was finger-fucking my gun for, but it sure took you long enough to come by."

>"If I'd known I was going to get shot in the fucking face, I may have waited longer..." she mutters, setting up the ladder. You cringe, your own nose aching for a moment, but then something occurs to you.

>"Hold on, how'd she make it past you in the first place? You were at the entrance, right?"

>"Yeah..." the she-wolf says, working on the mounting, "I had Sally cover for me as soon as I saw her SUV pull up. Let me choose when it was we'd get into it, make sure it was nice and on camera."

>You almost miss the one she tosses down to you, the realization hitting you like a brick.

>"So you waited until she was flagging us on purpose?"

>"Well, didn't know she was going to do that," Talia says, hopping down with a slight spring to her step, "But, well, I saw the opportunity, and... you know."

>You reach up and slap her on the back, not too hard.

>"Nice work, Talia."

>"Whatever. Come on, let's get the rest of these down and go through the footage."

>She doesn't have any more snide things to say as the next two cameras come down, nor as the two of you walk back to the gate. When she starts walking to her truck is when you call out.

>"Where you going?"

>She pauses, turning to you.

>"To meet you at your place? You're the guy with the computer."

>You chuckle, putting the bag of cameras in the bed of your Toyota.

>"Well, grandma, there're these things now called 'laptops' that you can use."

>Talia crosses her arms, watching you as you go around to the cab.

>"So what, we're going to go to the nearest 24/7 burger joint with free wifi?"

>"You don't need wifi to read SD cards," you say, gathering your stuff from the cab, "That 'grandma' thing was meant to be a joke, but you're making me wonder..."

>"What's your plan then, you annoying little..."

>She trails off into a sigh, the gravel crunching under her feet as she crosses over towards you. You greet her with a grin when you walk around to the back of the truck, and pop down the tailgate; the bed is a mess of blankets, comforters, and towels, anything you could find to make the metal bed less cold.

>"Hop in," you tell her, doing just that as careful as you can manage with the laptop bag in one hand.

>You can feel her staring at you with that exasperated look on her face as you settle in, setting the laptop down on the overturned cardboard box you brought just for the occasion. Then the truck's suspension squeaks a little as she climbs in, though it holds. She shifts closer to you as you grab the power cord through the back window, plugging it in.

>"Any particular reason you decided to do this?" she asks as the laptop boots, and you connect the SD reader.

>"Call me schizo, but if we think Pat's got someone monitoring us, it seemed like a better idea to do it in the middle of nowhere."

>"Fair point."

>"We saving the best for last?" you ask, pulling the bag of cameras close.

>"Oh yeah," the she-wolf chuckles, "save it for the grand finale."

>The lead-up to the last camera's footage isn't too interesting, the bays they were watching all being occupied by people you both don't really know. Going through the first one helped you get an idea for how good the footage would look, and it's promising; the 120 degree lenses were definitely the right choice.

>The audio quality isn't the best, but you can make out most of what is said. The video quality is more than good enough.

>Sifting through the footage of the first four bays also gives you an idea of how far into the captured video you should be looking-- Talia makes a note to herself about getting the place a few rat-traps.

>The two of you have drawn even closer together, what with the small screen you've got to watch everything. The she-wolf has an arm on your shoulder, her legs hanging halfway off the bed of the truck. The position doesn't exactly look comfortable, but it's better than bending halfway over.

>You don't mind it, to be honest-- it might be summer, but it still gets chilly at night.

>"Hey, Talia?" you ask as the last bits of footage for camera four play, "You mind grabbing me that blanket? The tan one, over there?"

>"Aww, is the little humie cold?"

>"Yeah, I am, you living throw rug," you say, flicking her side. "You gonna do it or not? I've gotta switch out cards anyway."

>She flicks you back, but reaches over and grabs the blanket and tosses it to you.

>You think you feel her move a little closer, your legs and side getting warmer, but it's probably just your imagination.

>"Okay, let's see what we got..."

>The card reveals a few more nightly visitors to the range, the crack-of-dawn retiree or two shooting their sporters or old fudd guns, and the occasional short of Sally brushing away casings to pass the time.

>Then Aki shows up, her bags bulging full of guns and ammo. Ordinarily you'd make some kind of comment, let out a low whistle-- but this is Aki. Showing up with ten guns is just another Tuesday for her.

>There's a video of your conversation with her, Rebecca standing off to the side with her hands clasped in front of her-- when she doesn't walk in front of the camera, covering the whole shot in orange and black.

>Then Patricia shows up, waiting at the bench while the cheetah blasts away downrange, no doubt with the makeshift course obstacles she always brings.

>"Have you seen the human around?" the shepherdess asks, not even giving a wave when Aki returns to the bench.

>The cheetah's spotted tail flicks; with the stickers and patches you've seen on her gear, you doubt she has much love for the three letters stitched on Patricia's chest and arms.

>"Which human?" she asks, setting down her rifle, shotgun, and pistol, beginning to dump out her empty mag bag. "There's a few around here."

>"Anonerson. Anon Anonerson."

>The shepherdess' voice is just on the edge of pleasantries-- as pleasant as she ever is, anyway.

>"Oh, him... He's one more down, working with that new girl. I let her borrow a few of my pieces-- I worked with her the other day, too, so it's alright."

>You highly doubt she did, and you can't help but smile.

>Patricia huffs, and walks off with a nod.

>You close the window, and ready the card for ejection.

>"You ready?" you ask Talia, looking over at her. Her bandage seems especially bright.

>"Yeah," she says, handing you the final card.

>You plug it in, and skip right to the good stuff, past you and Rebecca going over the basics and setting up your guns.

>Patricia walks into frame, taking a look down range with flattened ears. She looks down at the table, and begins to rifle through your range bag.

>"Why did you even bring that thing?" Talia asks when the shepherdess pulls out the little case for your Kolibri, her tail wagging slightly.

>"I'll tell you when the movies' over."

>The she-wolf growls, but says nothing; you can feel the rumble run through you.

>She really did get closer to you.

>On screen, Patricia begins to fumble with the tiny firearm, and you hear a garbled 'Hey!' from off screen. The argument that follows plays out in full detail, the high angle highlighting the way Patricia keeps the Kolibri up and out of your reach.

>The growling she and Talia get into after the she-wolf goes for the gun sounds funny through the laptop speakers; Rebecca completely pulls you out of frame, one feline ear flashing half the screen in black and white as it flicks.

>"Did you have to call her that?" you ask as on-screen Talia calls your favorite ATF agent by your favorite nickname for her.

>"Yes," offscreen Talia growls.

>The distinct 'pop' of the tiny gun as it goes off on screen gives her plenty reason.

>That gasp and the whine that follows are captured in surprisng detail as the she-wolf stumbles to the edge of the screen, everyone freezing for a moment.

>"I didn't know she could get like that..." you mutter, trying to take your mind off watching your partner get shot again as Rebecca's growl rattles the screen, having shaken the camera as the back of her head blocks half of it.

>"Me neither."

>The two of you watch in silence as the rest of it plays out, Patricia turning tail and fleeing, Rebecca crouching down and still filling a good amount of the screen as she talks to you and Talia before hurrying off.

>Then it's just the two of you there, at the very bottom edge of the camera's view, panting and the occasional wince or whine coming through.

>You're glad the two of you were still in-frame-- all that acting with the stroking, hugging, and cooing would have gone to waste.

>Because that's all it was, acting. For sure.

>'Hey Anon?' you hear her say again through the screen, the words coming through clearly.

>"Hold me, dumbass."

>The real Talia squeezes you a little as she says it again, chuckling a little.

>"So, why'd you bring that little gun?" she asks as the rest of the scene plays out, the stroking and sighing.

>"I-- I think I figured out what was wrong, with it," you say, your eyes stuck to the screen. "It was with the ammo, so I adjusted the batch I'd made, and--"

>You pause as she kisses you again-- not the real you, the on-screen you.

>Your forehead tingles all the same.

>"And?" the she-wolf supplies, looking down at you.

>"--And I wanted to test it," you say, catching yourself. "Long story short, it was overloaded and bent the parts just enough for the striker not to catch."

>You reach into your pocket, pulling out that singular, tiny brass casing.

>"And it looks like I was right."

>"Glad you didn't put super-penetrators in there or anything," Talia mutters, wincing as she gingerly feels the bandage again. "But leaving it chambered like that-- that's not you, Anon."

>"I didn't! You go back to that footage of setup, and you can see I made sure it was clear before I put that magazine in."

>Talia looks at you for a moment, expression hard to read in the dark. Then she nods.

>"I trust you. But how the hell did it get chambered, then?"

>"Probably when she grabbed it away from you," you say after a moment. "The thing's slide is like an inch long. All it'd take is for that to shift an inch when Patricia squeezed on it for it to load the round."

>The she-wolf nods again, staring blankly at the screen. The two of you are still there against the support of the shelter, holding each other.

>"Good," she says, looking away. "Very good."

>She laughs a little in the dark, and you can feel her rub against you as she does.

>"We actually did it. We've actually got evidence on that gun-grabbing bitch."

>"You're welcome," you say, closing things out and ejecting the SD card.

>"Oh, don't be thinking I owe you anything for coming up with this little plan, there, humie," she says, pulling away from you and collecting herself, hopping out from the truck with the squeaking of the suspension.

>"I took a bullet for you," she says as you break down the laptop and cameras, leaning on the bed of the truck. "Don't you think I'm gonna forget it, either."

>"I doubt you'll let me," you mutter, and she ruffles your hair with a hum.

>"I'll talk with my lawyer-friends about getting stuff done tomorrow; hold onto those tapes for me, Anon."

>She stands up and begins walking back to her car, leaving you to deal with the pseudo-nest you've created.

>"That'll just be the start of you paying me back!"

>"Goodnight, Talia," is all you say.

>She nasally replies in kind, starting up her truck. She's gone before you're even in the cab of yours, having slid the laptop and cameras through the cab window and mostly secured your blankets and coverings.

>As you drive off, though, the one thing you did want to say spins around in your head, regret but also relief filling you from your silence.

>"Was that kiss just for the camera?"

Chapter 5: Meetings

>"That's quite a look you've got going on there, Anon."

>"What?"

>"Just what I said," Talia says, squeezing into the cab of the Hilux, "just quite the look."

>Your button-up and blazer aren't too aggressive, and you're not even wearing a tie.

>Given that you're meeting with not just one, but two different lawyers today -- the public defender the state chose for you, and Talia's contact -- you figured dressing up wouldn't be a terrible idea.

>"Fuck off, furbag," you say, pulling out from the driveway. "In case you didn't know, you're supposed to look nice for your lawyer."

>Making fun of her bandage is tempting, but likely not the best idea.

>"Guarantee you that Steve and his buddies are gonna make fun of you."

>You let the comment slide, waiting until you're at a stopsign to take another look over at her. She's wearing a nicer pair of jeans, at least, though she's still got a flannel on.

>Rather tight, it seems. Or maybe it's a consequence of her squeezing into the cab of the Hilux.

>You look away quickly, realizing that she's looking right back at you.

>"Got something to say?"

>You can't read the she-wolf's tone, but say something quick as you hit the gas.

>"Trying to see past your oversized-ass, don't wanna get T-boned."

>The 'fuck off' she gives you sounds distinctly relieved.

>"You prefer I lay down on this here bench seat?"

>"Honestly, I'd prefer your shaggy butt ride in the bed, but I gotta help you keep some of your dignity."

>She growls playfully, and undoes her seatbelt.

>"Oh, I'll show you dignity, you dick!"

>"Christ, woman, what are you--"

>The she-wolf presses her rear up against you, her upper half pressed against the opposite side of the cab as she cranks the window down.

>"Talia, don't you fucking dare!"

>She looks back at you with an evil smile before sticking her head and shoulders out the passenger window, rolling her lower half around in the bench seat. When she's on her back, she stretches her legs out right across your lap and out your window, forcing you to let go of the wheel and reach across her thighs.

>"There," she sighs when she's in place, her paws hanging out your window along with half her calves. "That's better for both of us, I think."

>You look over at her again; ohh, does she look smug.

>You turn back to the road; you're still on one of the lonely Sector Mainways, a good dozen miles from New Apple proper.

>You're the one to smile now.

>"Anon, what're you--"

>Before the she-wolf has a chance to finish, you shake the steering wheel. Not hard, not enough to make the tires squeal, but plenty to make the truck shake from side-to-side -- along with its occupants.

>Those that aren't strapped in -- like your once-smug companion -- are jostled around.

>"Anon! -- You fucking -- dumbass!"

>"You're the one that isn't buckled up," you chuckle.

>You let the truck straighten back out and look over at the she-wolf: she's not nearly so smug now, a half snarl on her lips as she un-braces herself.

>"Maybe you should -- "

>Your sentence ends in a strangled, wheezing 'hoh-fuck' as Talia shifts her weight up from your right thigh to between them, dropping her ass down in your lap -- and somewhat onto your jewels. 600-some pounds of she-wolf, even partway supported by the Hilux, is going to part your legs no matter what.

>"There we go," she says, settling between your legs, "I feel much more secure now. This going to be a problem, Ano--"

>You feel her stiffen between your legs; there's something else that's gone stiff between your legs, pressed right up against her left asscheek.

>"A-Anon!"

>Keep your eyes on the road, don't stop on the pedals. Keep your eyes on the road, don't --

>"W-why the fuck do you have a boner?"

>"Because you fucking sat on it," you say, chancing a look over at her.

>She's tense again, staring back at you with a slightly slackened jaw. You think you see a hint of blush on her face, her fur and flannel being blown in the wind.

>"What'd you expect?" you say quickly, turning back to the road again.

>For a few moments, it's quiet, the sounds of the engine, the road, and the wind all that fill the cab, those tight curves still pressed against your inner thighs. And then...

>"...you into getting your balls smashed or something?"

>"No!" you splutter, looking over again to make sure she's joking.

>The look on her face -- embarrassment mixed with curiosity -- says she's not.

>"No, I don't like getting my balls smashed!"

>"Well I dropped my ass on your lap and you got hard, what am I supposed to expect!?"

>"I don't know!" you say, painfully aware of how warm she is now. "What did you expect when you fucking -- did that?!"

>"I -- I don't --"

>Talia gives up with a sigh, the road noise filling the cab once again.

>"Look, why don't you just move back like--"

>"No."

>The she-wolf's tone is more firm than it was before. Scarily so.

>"No, it's fine, I --"

>"We've got a few miles before we reach the city, and -- "

>"No! It's just... more comfortable."

>"Than squeezing in normally," she quickly adds. "My busted nose n' all"

>You look over at her again, again trying to discern if she's serious.

>She is, though her ears are still pulled back.

>You turn back to the road with a long sigh, shifting slightly in the seat to try and get comfortable -- only to be reminded of the large, lupine ass between your legs.

>You scoot back as far into the seat as you can, though there's no escape from that soft flesh on yours. There's nothing for it but to try and ignore it.

>You'll go soft before you get to the DA's office, surely.

>You don't. Not by a longshot.

>Every bump in the road, every stop, start, or turn taken even slightly too harsh, and you felt Talia's rear press up against you harder, rubbing up against your member.

>The way she looked when she fumbled out from the car, she felt every bit of it too.

>"So..." you say, your voice echoing slightly in the underground parking garage. "Off to the lawyer?"

>"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."

>The she-wolf walks stiffly, not quite the same way that you do. You try clenching your fists, thinking about having to piss, and every other boner-killing trick you've ever heard, but they're all as effective as they were on the torturous ride here.

>That is to, say, not effective at all.

>Neither of you look at each other as you walk in together, silently finding the elevator. You both stand at opposite corners when you enter.

>...Why is it so awkward? The two of you have fucking kissed before, so what's so weird about you getting a perfectly understandable stiffie?

>You're asking this of yourself just as much as Talia, because no matter the rationalizing, you're just as put off.

>You shake your head when the final floor-chime comes; there'll be time to deal with that later. For now, you two have to act like --

>"Anon?"

>Talia's voice is almost back to normal, almost that same semi-exasperated tone she defaults to.

>You still don't dare look, and you can tell that she isn't either when the two of you walk out.

>"Yeah?"

>"Remember we're going into this as a couple."

>"Just what I was thinking."

>The tension between you has cleared up, if only for the act. You enter the suite your emails specified, and a secretary directs you to a 'Mr. Lyons' after a quick gawk at Talia's nose. You enter to find a small, clean office, reflective of the male lion that quickly rounds his desk when you enter.

>"Mr. Anonerson and Ms. Grilliz, I presume?" he says, reaching out a hand.

>You answer in the affirmative, looking him over briefly: he's hardly bigger than Talia, to your surprise. His lionly mane is neatly trimmed, as is his dark suit. After introducing himself -- full name Steve Lyons -- he has the two of you sit down as he goes back around the desk and does the same, pulling out a stack of paper.

>"So, as I understand things, the gentlemen you mentioned will be handling the firearms charges Mr. Anonerson is facing, correct, Ms. Grilliz?"

>"Yeah," Talia nods, "we're going to be meeting up with them later, actually."

>"Excellent. Here, if you wouldn't mind--"

>Lyons leans over the desk, handing his card over to the she-wolf.

>"-- I would like to coordinate with them, if possible. Even if I'm going to be focusing on the other charges, it's still my job as your public defender to at least be in the know."

>"Of course," Talia says, and you nod in agreement.

>"Now then," the lion says, going back to the papers, "let's review. The two of you are facing: one count perjury, one count perjury under investigation, and one count of harassing an officer while under investigation. All of it in relation to false courtship claims."

>He sets the papers down, looking back up at the two of you.

>"Assuming the two of you aren't ready to move on to a proper Civil Union, then we've got a fight on our hands. You wouldn't happen to be --"

>"No," the two of you say in unison before he can finish, a strange feeling running through you as you say it. Memories of faking kisses and intimacy come unbidden, and the events of the ride here as well.

>"No judgment here," Lyons says, holding up a calming hand. "Let me explain what we're up against, then, assuming the two of you are pleading innocent. According to your files, the two of you are eligible for mandatory Assignment -- those yearly state check-ins recommend it. But because the two of you have entered courtship, that's being held off. If the court finds you guilty of falsifying those courtship claims, or if the two of you break things off, Assignment will take effect in addition to fines and sentencing."

>His gaze turns to you specifically.

>"The investigating officer has recommended Special Assignment for you specifically, Mr. Anonerson. Whether or not that would happen is up to the judge, but it's a definite possibility."

>"Otherwise, you're looking at anywhere between 20 to 50 thousand in fines, and up to five years in reeducation."

>Your heart sinks, and you hear Talia whine slightly as you let out a low groan.

>"What can we do?" you ask, trying not to focus on the lightness in your chest.

>"We have two main options," the lion says. "One: we prove that the two of you are in courtship, or two: we disprove that you two need Assignment. Then, with luck, the state will put less scrutiny on the case since even if the two of you get convicted. You're wouldn't be going into the Assignment system, and you'll get less harsh punishments if we can't prove things wrong."

>That last comment eases your mind somewhat. Not because the lawyer is saying you've got a good chance, but because he's at least acknowledging the state's primary goal: Assignment.

>"What about throwing the case out?" Talia asks. "We've got reason to believe that Patricia Bitc -- the investigating officer -- has something against us."

>Lyons takes a breath, and your mind finally breaks free of that awkward haze as you realize what Talia's setting up.

>"It's possible, but highly improbable. Ms. Birch is an agent of the state, so unless you have some solid evidence to prove--"

>Talia turns to you, and says "Anon?"

>You dig in your pocket and pull out the flashdrive you prepped the night prior, handing it over to Lyons.

>"We might have some," you say as the lawyer holds it to the light between two large fingers, giving you a look before plugging it in.

>He switches on the client-side monitor, and you watch him open up the drive, clicking to the folder you named 'highlights.'

>"Start with the first one," you say, watching him stare at the different .mp4s, each numbered sequentially.

>The video from Bay 6 plays, the view same as it has the 10 other times you've seen it. You find yourself watching Lyon's rather than the video -- and hear a soft whine from beside you when the gun goes off.

>Lyons, for his part, merely blinks, though you see him tense up.

>"...I was wondering about the bandage..." the lawyer says, closing the window.

>"So?" Talia asks when it's over, "is it enough?"

>"I can't say for sure," the lion says, choosing his words carefully, "but it's a solid piece."

>"There's more videos with more evidence," you tell him. "Originals are on there as well, under the other folder.

>Lyons nods, clicking through the folders to confirm.

>"Put in conjunction with witness testimony, I would say the two of you have a definite chance at a mistrial."

>"We fucking better... I took a bullet in the face..."

>You manage the stifle a laugh at the she-wolf's muttering, disguising it as a sigh of relief.

>"A counter-suit is certainly a possibility," Lyons says, less able to hide his chuckling as he stands. "For now, though, let's focus on this one. I already have Ms. Maldovich's information, but if the two of you could provide me with more people to call upon as witnesses -- both of the event and to prove that Ms. Birch has a vendetta -- it would make our argument much stronger."

>You and Talia surf through your phones, rattling off a few different contacts, noting more aloud that might help. Lyons sends the two of you out with a handshake, a card, and a promise to keep in touch.

>As jovial as things were in his office, the two of you retreat to opposite corners of the elevator once again.

>Once again not speaking to each other,

>Once again not looking at each other.

>You sigh a little when you're in the parking lot, where the echoey background of traffic, buzzers, and your own footfalls can hide it.

>You suppose it was all just an act.

>When you open the truck, you hear the rear suspension pipe up as Talia puts a foot on the tailgate.

>"Talia," you say, the words from before stinging, "you don't have to --"

>"Nah," she sighs.

>She slumps down against the cab, the bed bouncing slightly as she stares off at the far wall, eyes low.

>"I'll be fine."

>You hesitate, thinking about trying to convince her to do otherwise. You don't, climbing into the cab.

>"One thing, though, Anon," you hear her say after the engine fires up and you begin pulling out.

>"You swerve around again, and I'll smash your balls for real."

>Music makes the ride back to her place bearable, or maybe it's the distance between you two. Neither of you say anything until you pull into the gravel drive, seeing the old van parked further up, close to the old farmhouse.

>"So who are these guys, the fucking A-Team?" you ask as you get out, seeing Talia smile at the black GMC.

>"You better hope so, if you want to get those gun charges dropped."

>You shake your head and follow her to the driver’s side door, the window rolling down as you approach. There's movement past the slightly pudgy, smiling face that greets you.

>"So we did get the right house," the man says; you realize the wrinkles there aren't just from fat, but age as well.

>"Yeah, you did, Mr. Nova," Talia chuckles, stepping back as the other doors come open. "How long were you waitin'?"

>"Not too long," another older human says, this one sporting a suit and 'stache straight from the 70's. "Long enough for Ian and him to get into one of their arguments."

>"It was a discussion, Steve," comes a younger voice from the far side of the van.

>"Oh, give him a break," the first one -- Mr. Nova -- says, "he's a lawyer. Everything's an argument to him."

>The three of them chuckle as they all come around, gathering around Steve. You don't recognize him -- the lawyer-guy -- but the other two seem somewhat familiar. Mr. Nova is the largest, both in height and mass, Ian clearly being the youngest and the one with the most hair left, the neat gray worn long. Both wear polos, treading the line between casual and professional.

>"Mr. Anonerson, I presume?" the lawyer asks, and you nod, his associates giving you one back.

>"Well then; Anon, I'm Steven Halbrooke. Let me introduce you and Talia to my pair of specialists: Mr. Mark Nova, and Mr. Ian O'Pillar."

>It hits you midway through shaking hands, and you hear yourself let out a quiet 'oh, shit.'

>"You're the Ian O' Pillar, and the Mark Nova?"

>"Sure as shit," Mark says, Ian just nodding.

>You manage to restrain yourself to just a smile: you've read books by these guys, seen videos and online posts from them. They're as big of nerds as you are for weird and archaic weaponry, just with a couple of decades more experience.

>"You didn't tell me you knew these guys," you whisper to Talia as she corrals everyone to the front door.

>"I just know Steve," she says quietly, "he's the one with the lawyer connections."

>The she-wolf leads the four of you to her living room, everyone sitting around her coffee table. The air is much more relaxed than the downtown office you were in just a half-hour ago, but the setup is the same; you and Talia sit on a pair of chairs across from the couch, where the other half of your legal team lounges.

>Well, at least that's what Mark does. Steve sits up straight in the center, while Ian leans forward.

>"Just to confirm, you're the only one with weapons charges, right Mr. Anonerson?" Steve asks, setting down a manila envelope and opening it up.

>"Yeah."

>"Good. Makes things easier," he says, going through some papers. "If you got slapped with some, Talia, things would be much more serious, given your occupation."

>Talia grunts.

>"We've got one count of Negligence and two counts of Illicit Possession," the mustachioed man says, setting down the paper. "I take it you're pleading innocent?"

>"Yessir," you say.

>"Don't be so formal, kid," Mark chimes in, "even with that little blazer, you're not gonna out-professional Steve."

>Talia nudges you with an elbow, and you groan quietly. The lawyer smiles.

>"Why don't you walk us through what happened, Mr. Anonerson?"

>"Well, I was taking the gun out to the range for the first time, and--"

>"What was the model?" Ian asks, pulling out his phone.

>"Kolibri, 2.7mm," you answer. He lets out a low whistle, and Mark nods appreciatively when Ian shows him a picture of the gun.

>Probably the one with the penny for comparison, the coin being about a third or fourth the size of the pistol.

>"Anyway, I was testing it. Brought it out to the target -- was helping someone else at the time, and showed it to her and Talia -- and fired. All six rounds went off, no one got hurt, but the bitch that--"

>You stop yourself, taking a breath.

>"The officer that's instigating all this stuff was watching, and she took the opportunity to charge me."

>"You said no one got hurt," Mark says, sitting up now, "then why does Talia here have that Rudolf thing over her nose?"

>"Same fucking officer," the she-wolf growls before you can answer. "She shot me in the face with his fucking gun."

>"Slow down, please," Steve says. "When did she do that? Sunday?"

>"No, yesterday. We were--"

>"--Testing the gun again," you cover quickly. "I think I figured out what had made it malfunction before."

>"Well, go--"

>Mark stops himself, looking at Steve for a moment. At a nod, he continues.

>"Go on, son. What's your theory?"

>"Well, when I got it, it was in need of some TLC. Only way I could find one that wouldn't cost a fortune. So, I had to get in the guts of it a bit, and I didn't quite trust the ammo that came with it. I fixed it up, did a function check, no problem. Reloading the ammo was an experience with how small it was, but nothing too bad. Made the mistake of letting Pat -- the officer responsible for all this -- know that I had to do some maintenance work on it, and that's why she thinks I 'manufactured a machine gun.'"

>The three of them chuckle, though the lawyer does the least.

>"Sounds like a pain in the ass, with how small those parts look," Mark chimes.

>"Keeping it fed would be even worse," Ian adds. "That cartridge isn't exactly available. How many do you have?"

>"Just 12. Don't know if I want to sacrifice one of them to a machinist to try and get the dimensions for it, though."

>"What, and do it in a solid case?"

>"Yeah," you reply to Mark, "Just let some guy scan it and CNC something up."

>"Cheaper than setting up a proper press," Ian says with a shrug, but Mark shakes his head.

>"CNC would get you the precision, but it wouldn't work right with the gun. It's gonna want to use sheet brass, not block, so--"

>"We're getting off topic," Steve says, holding up a hand. "Mr. Anonerson, please continue?"

>"Right. Anyway, I was tinkering on Monday, and Tuesday, trying to figure out why it ran off on me, and my function checks all came out the same. Hold the trigger, rack the slide, no click. Then I shook it, and 'click.'"

>Mark looks at you with piercing eyes during your little pause, while Ian strokes his small goatee. You recognize their looks, having come up in more than a few of their interviews with others into weapons and militaria.

>A slight chill runs through you as you realize now you're the other guy in the video.

>"I'm thinking it wasn't the gun that malfunctioned, but the ammo. I overloaded them, not enough to blow anything up, but just enough to bend those tiny parts inside so the striker wasn't catching on the disconnector. Since every cartridge there was loaded the same way, well, every single one did it. I loaded up a new batch with a lighter powder load and was going to test it yesterday, but, well..."

>"Officer Bitch took Anon's gun while I was on my ass with a slug in the nose," Talia says, an understandable growl to her tone.

>Steve and his friends give a solemn nod; Mark sits up proper for the first time with a slight groan.

>"Sounds possible -- wouldn't be able to tell for sure without the gun in hand, though."

>"From what I remember off the top of my head," Ian butts in, "the Kolibri would have likely been designed to make conversion difficult, given Germany's laws at the time. And since it was a sort of boutique pistol, even more so the round, I wouldn't be surprised if the tolerances were tight enough that the parts could be jarred from out-of-spec ammo. The inventor was a watchmaker, so you know, go figure."

>You look a little expectantly at Steve, waiting for some other revelation, but he just turns back to you after nodding at Ian.

>"What?" he asks with a slight chuckle. "They're the smart ones. I'm just the guy that makes the arguments."

>"And what do you think of ours right now, Steve?" Talia sighs.

>"If these two can come up with some evidence for me to present, I think we're in the clear."

>"I'll get right on it," Ian says -- but Mark grunts quietly.

>"I can't really help without having access to the gun," he says, turning to Steve. "You think you can get me a chance to look at it?"

>"I can try."

>"Good enough."

>"If that doesn't work, I believe I've got access to some documentation through the Arkives --"

>-- you just barely manage to avoid squealing, hearing the name of Ian's famous documentation and reference site --

>"-- I could go through. If you can't manage to get us access to the original gun, Steve, I can see about getting a 3d mock-up made, if there's not one already."

>The lawyer nods before the three of them stand up, the process not looking or sounding easy for the old men.

>"I'll see to it that they get right on it, Talia," Steve says to the she-wolf, his companions giving a slight bow. "We'll be in touch."

>"Wait, hold on," you say when they begin walking to the door, "What do I have to do? How much is this all going to cost?"

>"Not much you can do, Mr. Anonerson," Steve says, hanging back just a little. "I suggest you just try to relax, and help your other lawyer out."

>"Our fee will be letting us have a round with that gun when we get it back for you!" Ian calls back, and Mark laughs.

>You stand there for a moment, just staring as they walk out. For the first time since yesterday, you actually feel good. Confident. Like you've got a chance.

>You feel yourself smiling, and turn to Talia. She's standing looking down at you, her tail wagging slightly.

>"So?"

>"So?" you repeat. "We've got a chance! It worked, Talia!"

>She opens her mouth to say something, but stops.

>"It worked..." you repeat.

>That awkward air returns; you don't know what to say, and neither does she.

>What else is there to say, really?

>What happened happened, and it's best to try and ignore it. But that's hard to do when the person that caused it is right there in front of you. The one that you've been friends with for the better part of two years.

>"I-If there's nothing else, I guess," you say, "I'm gonna get going too. Figure I can get that load data to Mark and Ian, see if it'll help."

>Talia gives you a hesitant nod, the eye contact excruciating.

>"Okay," you say, turning towards the door. You only make it a few steps, not quite to the doorway when you feel the need to stop and say goodbye.

>"Talia, I--"

>She puts a paw on your shoulder, and you find she's right behind you, her expression serious.

>"We need to talk."

>Fuck.

>Even if your relationship isn't real, you get that sinking feeling. She keeps her hand on your shoulder as you're pulled back into her living room. She only lets you go when you approach the couch, figuring that you'll want to be sitting down for this shit.

>"So," you sigh, "what--"

>You never finish, the she-wolf slamming down on you for the second time today.

>It's a bit softer this time, and her old couch has much more give, but you still wheeze when 600 pounds of she-wolf drops on you.

>She's got you prone on your back, her paws heavy on your shoulders.

>Once again she's pressed up against your dick, resting her stomach against it this time.

>She's looking down at you when you manage to focus yourself, your hands going to her wrists as you try and read her.

>"Talia, what--"

>Again you're interrupted, this time by her lips.

>Her claws poke into your shoulders just a little as she grips you, pulling you up slightly into the kiss.

>Kiss is maybe the wrong word.

>Her tongue is already past your lips, filling your mouth while her teeth scrape your lips, hers only just touching yours.

>In seconds, she presses deeper, her teeth digging into the meat of your cheeks as she cocks her head, her tongue going deep enough to make your chest flutter.

>She hums, eyes closed; you hardly make a sound, eyes wide open.

>This isn't the first time the two of you've kissed, but it's the first time you've kissed like this.

>Done anything like this.

>Her on top, holding you.

>Pressing down on you.

>Her curves all over you,

>her grip on you tight,

>her teeth digging in tighter.

>When she finally draws back, she does so with an audible, wet, pop. She sits astride your legs, looking down at you as you both pant.

>"Wha... what the fuck?"

>Talia sits there, panting for a few breaths before she answers, her eyes locked onto yours.

>"Just... just making sure it's... there's nothing serious between us..."

>You sit there, your hands still on her thighs.

>"Whe- well, is there?"

>Talia looks down at you, her chest heaving as her breaths begin to slow.

>The flannel is too tight.

>Slowly, she sits up, her fingers tracing down your chest, her claws scraping against your shirt in a way that tingles.

>When her hands reach her own knees, her lip begins to curl, and her fists ball.

>She gets up with a grunt, just able to control her breathing now as she looks at the floor.

>"Get out."

>You lay there, staring up at her, even the summer air feeling cold in her absence.

>"Talia --"

>"Get out!"

>She's glaring at you now, ears pulled back as you stand, unable to read her.

>You're not sure if the tent you're pitching is helping you or not.

>When you slowly start towards the front door, she practically runs upstairs, the old wood thudding loudly with each step.

>Your heart pounds as you walk, slow as you can, back out the Hilux. Turning the key takes you a while.

>You think you know her answer to your question; you saw it in her eyes.

>But that's not what concerns you, what makes you blow through two different stopsigns before getting blasted at when you try and cross a third.

>It's that you don't know what your answer would be.

Chapter 6: Departures

>You slide the cleaning cloth over the metal again, watching the bluing shine in the light.

>The 1901 that you have isn't the most stunning example you've seen of the shotgun, but you love it regardless.

>The finish, if plain, is in comparatively great shape, and more importantly, it can handle smokeless powder.

>You still make sure to feed it shells that are on the lighter side, but as long as you do that, it's not picky about what you feed it.

>Neither is Talia.

>She didn't care what it was that you got her from the sub shop when she giddily texted you all those months ago, telling you that Patricia was sulking around the range and that you should come by on lunch break.

>You got her a turkey club and a bottle of Citri-Soft, and she dug in without a second thought when you arrived at the RSO shack.

>It was hot that day, and the little building has no AC, so it wasn't surprising to see the she-wolf press the cool bottle against her forehead, her arms, her neck.

>What did surprise you was the way she put an arm around you, pulling you close -- nearly out of your chair -- and letting you feel just how warm she was.

>Even in just the tanktop, you could feel her heat through the fur, her flannel around her waist.

>'Thanks, babe,' she said to you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before taking a bite.

>Later, you could taste the turkey club when she grabbed you and kissed you, lingering there until you heard Patricia grunt and stomp off.

>It wasn't the first kiss you two had shared, but it still wasn't... normal.

>She was the first to speak when the two of you separated, a slight chuckle still in her voice as the ATF officer left.

>'You know, turkey is my favorite.'

>You sigh, setting the barrel down.

>A little harder than you intend.

>You look over the half-disassembled gun that's taken up your meager kitchen table, forcing your mind back to work.

>You've already cleaned the Vetterli, the LeMat, and the Tokarev, your apartment having smelled like CLP and oil since you got up this morning.

>You started off with a normal field-strip and wipe-down, but at some point while polishing the LeMat's cylinder you looked at the oil-rag and swore you were taking off bluing.

>A complete teardown of each turned out to be a much better idea; you haven't done a deep-clean on everything in a while, either.

>The Winchester is proving a little more difficult to completely disassemble, but you know you'll get there. Getting it apart at all is a feat on its own.

>You try again at some of the more tight screws and friction fits, having to be delicate and forceful at the same time.

>Like that one winter day that Talia shuffled over to you on the range, kicking through the snow.

>She had left you to get your fill of black-powder shooting on an empty range, staying in the little shack with the space heater, but she now grabbed at your shoulder, hunched over.

>'The fucking zipper tried to eat me,' she said.

>Sure enough, the zipper of the coat she wore, only halfway-closed, had bound itself up in her flannel underneath.

>'Just rip it out.'

>'It was fucking expensive!'

>'Well... what do you expect me to do?'

>'You're not trapped in it, Anon! And you've got those deft little human fingers. Fix it for me, eh?'

>You remember agonizing about that little exchange for days -- this was relatively early into your 'relationship,' and you couldn't tell if you'd overstepped, been too harsh.

>It didn't help matters that she was just a bit harsh back to you when you insisted on carefully de-priming the LeMat before putting it back in its case under the shelter, popping the unspent nipples off into another little box.

>She grabbed your hand when you were done, half-dragging you back to the RSO shack.

>When you pulled out your knife, she yelled at you again.

>'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

>'Cutting you out, what's it look like?'

>'You put one hole in my flannel, Anon, and I'm putting five in you.'

>You felt confident enough to snort at the little flick she did with her claws, but you didn't feel confident enough to actually test her.

>So out the utility knife came, and you pried at the plastic teeth and fabric.

>Carefully but firmly.

>Delicately but forcefully.

>When you finished, managing to pry loose the flannel at the cost of the zipper, she --

>"Shit!"

>You just barely manage to dodge the flat spring that comes flying out from the trigger assembly, hearing it clatter faintly on the floor.

>Shakily, you set your pry-tool down, looking in the receiver with bated breath.

>When it appears that was the only piece of the intricate, ancient weapon to get flung across the room, you let out a long sigh.

>"...I fucking hate springs..."

>You find the small flat spring and set it back on the table before flopping onto the couch, sighing once more.

>Cleaning and disassembly is what you do to unwind. It's what you do to relax. Feeling those old actions work smooth as the day they were first made is rewarding to you, same as watching them glimmer in the light.

>So why the fuck isn't it working now?

>You stand, making it halfway to the kitchen for the fifth time today before you stop yourself with a groan.

>No, you can't drink. There's a half-disassembled shotgun on your table, and you've already proved you can hardly handle the small parts sober.

>You go back to the couch, sitting and putting your head in your hands.

>You need to de-stress.

>You want to feel her hands on you again, like you did after you saved her shirt from her coat.

>'Finally,' she said when it came free, 'Thanks, Anon.'

>She patted your head with a smirk, her fingers curling slightly in your hair.

>'Good boy.'

>At the time you told her to fuck off, but now?

>Now you wouldn't mind it. Even if it was teasing.

>Which is a problem, because that's all it was, just acting and teasing.

>Actually, it's not your fault, it's hers.

>She's the one that tackled you to the couch.

>She's the one that kissed you so hard, so deep.

>Stuck her tongue in and scraped her teeth against your cheeks in a way that made you feel it down in your toes.

>You groan again, this time at the uncomfortable hardness between your legs.

>'To make sure there's nothing between us,' she said.

>Your dick sure fucking was, whether you wanted it to be or not.

>Why would she do that?

>There is nothing between the two of you! Nothing like that!

>You both made that clear day fucking one!

>You remember that day in the fall. It was just you and her again on the range, the weird hours your library job afforded you giving you plenty of time alone.

>You'd met each other some time before in the summer, when you figured out she was that one employee from FF Supply, and she figured out you were the one guy under 65 buying black powder supplies.

>You weren't using black powder that day. That'd mean the she-wolf would be as far from you as possible.

>But instead she was right beside you, looking through the spotting scope as you made long shots with the Vetterli-Vitali.

>The two of you had gotten to know each other well enough in those few months that you knew you both hated the State, hated assignment, and were on the cusp of the unspoken grace period before your yearly check-ins would start recommending it.

>'Talia?' you eventually asked. 'I've got a proposition.'

>'A proposition, huh?'

>You fired, a spray of dirt flashing from the berm some 200 yards away.

>'A foot down and to the right.'

>You grunted, racking the bolt, careful to catch the copper cartridge case. They were extinct, after all.

>'You ever hear of the courtship clause?'

>She was quiet for a moment as you realigned your irons; there would be no way to adjust the elevation subtly enough, but you might do something about the windage.

>'Yeah,' she said as you tweaked the back sight, 'you comin' on to me?'

>'Not necessarily. I was just thinking of a way we could solve both our issues with assignment, and what not.'

>The she-wolf grunted. You gave her a moment to reply, but shot when she didn't.

>'Half-foot left, about on for elevation,' she said.

>'So? What do you think?'

>'...Take another shot. Give me a minute.'

>You glanced over, finding the she-wolf still staring through the scope. Racking the bolt again, you adjusted the windage the tiniest bit you could before emptying your lungs, staring out across at the target you could barely see.

>The steel rang clearly, right at the end of the echoing boom of the cartridge.

>You shifted, turning to face Talia expectantly. She pulled back from the scope, crossing her arms.

>'We'll have to work out the details,' she said, turning to you with a slight glare, 'but just so we're clear, this is an act. Key word in our relationship is that 'friend' part, got it?'

>'Of course,' you said.

>'Good. Don't want things getting weird.'

>And now, two years later, they are.

>You get up, walking towards the kitchen again. This time, you don't stop.

>With a tumbler in hand, you give the half-assembled mess on the table a side-eye.

>The slug of whiskey burns as it goes down, and you feel it on your breath when you finish.

>You set the glass down, flip the stubborn gun off, and go lie in bed.

>By the time the booze has burned through your system, you've written and deleted about 50 different messages.

>Most were to Talia, though you considered sending a few to her close friends, like coworkers.

>One you almost wrote to her mother.

>You didn't send a single one, though. And as much as you waited and prayed, neither she nor her friends texted you out of the blue to make things easy.

>In all that time, you've come around to accepting that the she-wolf didn't do it for show.

>What happened yesterday, on her couch.

>Fucking hell, maybe what happened in the car, too.

>And the hugging the day before that, but she did just get shot in the face, so that one might not have been entirely...

>...nebulous?

>That's the word you think you've decided on for what's going on.

>No, that's not it.

>She does feel something for you. Clearly.

>She wouldn't do what she did if she didn't, you don't think, making out with you like a drunk sorority girl.

>What's funny is that she didn't do it when she was drunk at a college party.

>It was around when the two of you first struck your deal, when the two of you thought that college-level 'evidence of a relationship' -- showing up together at things and being handsy -- would hold up in court.

>...If you're being honest, looking back on it now, it feels a little closer to high-school level.

>Under that logic, though, it all made perfect sense. It was a college farewell party for someone that was graduating mid-year, which was ironic since you were already graduated and Talia never went.

>What mattered was that some of her friends did, and she got invited. You'd be her plus one, and she'd get to show you off to all her friends. The two of you would make the rounds, ensuring you got introduced to enough people, maybe have a few drinks, then go home.

>You weren't a fan of parties, and neither was she.

>The she-wolf's hobby was fucking-off into the woods on her own; big surprise there.

>What happened in actuality was a little different.

>Talia ferried you around, but at some point she had to use the bathroom.

>You hung out in some circle or another, blending in fairly well -- it was a fairly mixed crowd -- when someone shoved a drink in your hand.

>The fox girl's eyes glinted as she introduced herself.

>You chuckle a little in bed, looking at the tumbler: you forget her name now, but you remember her nickname.

>'JB,' she told you, 'like Jim Bean.'

>The stuff in the cup was significantly stronger than that, some sort of vodka-based abomination that only a college party could create.

>That was what you downed while you talked with her -- Jannet? Jennifer, maybe?

>Nah, her eyes were hazel, not purple.

>...probably...

>She smiled and laughed; she minored in history, so she got some of the bad jokes you were telling.

>The vixen took your arm and guided you to a different group, one you were new to.

>Pretty soon, the clear concoction hit your stomach, and hit it hard.

>The room was fuzzy; JB's arm was soft.

>You distinctly remember wondering how soft her tail was, and it smelled as good as whatever stuff she had on, like honey.

>You didn't resist when she told the rest of the group that she'd tuck you in for the night as you leaned heavily on her -- you don't know if they were in on it or not, but the vixen said it innocuously enough.

>Vaguely, as she guided you upstairs, you remember making some witty joke about her not needing to be coy about things; in reality, you probably slurred something about foxes and fucking.

>She gekkered, tossing you in bed. It was only when she started toying with your belt that the reality of things began to hit you, things that were obvious the day after.

>To this day, you still feel a fool.

>You're no lightweight, but the others in JB's circle of friends were downing cups left and right.

>You weren't a liquor connoisseur back then, but even you realized the reason the vodka burned so bad was likely because it wasn't actually vodka.

>It smelled, and only one other thing tastes like nothing but fire: everclear.

>But oddly, the most pressing realization to you at the time was about what it'd mean for you and Talia.

>Talia wasn't your real 'girlfriend,' sure, but if you got caught sleeping around, it wouldn't be good for the act.

>Finding someone, an actual someone that you wanted to spend your life with, hadn't come up between the two of you yet, but the problem was that it'd leave the other party high and dry.

>And even through your stupor, you figured that a drink-spiking fox wasn't the person worth throwing Talia to the wolves for.

>JB slapped you when you started grabbing at her hands; first it was your hands, but then she did it to your face.

>You couldn't tell how much of the difficulty was from her strength and how much was from the paint thinner she gave you; either way, you couldn't manage much resistance as she tied your hands to a bedpost with your own belt.

>She cooed when you shivered at her salacious licks to your face, that sensation still sticking to you today.

>She said something about how she'd gotten the mix just right, just enough for you to still feel it.

>She was about to go on when there was a loud noise.

>The fox straightened up, stiffening against you.

>God, you can still hear the she-wolf's words...

>"Unlock this goddamn door you swiffer-tailed skank!"

>Said swiffer-tailed skank did not unlock the door, instead pulling away from you to do something as the pounding continued.

>Furniture scraped against the floor out of sight; you turned, but found it hard to focus on the orange blob as it appeared to barricade the door.

>There was a muffled snarl, and then the cracking of wood.

>JB crossed the room in a flash then, too fast for you to track.

>You knew she opened the window when the cold air rushed in.

>The door and whatever chair was blocking it splintered away with a roar, a blur of gray and red streaking to the window. You could see her tail wagging furiously as the she-wolf stuck her head out the window.

>Even then, your ears still rang from the howl she let out, a ragged edge to it.

>You gasp; you were holding your breath.

>You get up, shaking your head.

>Your body moves to go get a glass of water, to try and distract you, but you can't escape this memory that easily.

>The haze was slightly clearer at that point -- you're sure the howl is what did it.

>She sat there at the window for a few panting, ragged breaths, before she turned back to you, coming to your side. She tried not to let on how drunk she was, but looking back you know she was a bit fucked up.

>Not nearly as much as you were.

>The she-wolf ran her hands over you, asking if you were okay.

>When she got down to your waist, though, she grunted; she'd brushed up against your stiffened member, fighting valiantly against all the alcohol you'd had.

>She refused to look at you, frowning as she pulled your pants back up.

>'That was hot,' you slurred.

>She looked at you, eyes wide.

>'W-what you did. Do the, the howl thing again.'

>Her eyes were piercing for a moment, before she just shook her head with a grunt.

>'You're drunk,' she said, beginning to undo your hands.

>'So are you.'

>She only responded when you reached up and grabbed her when you were free, letting out a soft sound.

>You rubbed your face in her flannel, and slowly, she hugged you back.

>You told her you loved her then, when she pulled away.

>It's the only time you have.

>You sigh, leaning on the counter, debating if you should do another shot or not.

>When you said that to her, she'd dismissed it..

>In the moment it seemed drunken and appropriate, maybe. But looking back, the details stick out.

>How stiff her tail was.

>How her ears were just slightly back.

>How beneath her fur, she seemed a bit more flush than she'd get from just booze.

>She hauled you over her shoulder, telling you it was time to go.

>The few parties you went to after that, she always held you close. An arm around your shoulders, a hand on yours.

>To keep up appearances, of course, not for any other reason.

>Like trying to protect your dumb ass.

>After a moment, you put the shot glass away, returning to the table. The 1901 sits there, still half disassembled.

>You pick up the tools, and begin again.

>By your count, you've only almost worked up the courage to ask her three times.

>You sit there with the desk lamp, gently scraping at the grooves of the old gunmetal with a toothpick, gently clearing the channels.

>Once was at that party, though you're not sure if that counts since you were drunk and kind of did say how you felt.

>The second was when you met her parents and siblings for the first time, last summer.

>You'd met her sisters prior, since they both were going to NAU, but her brothers were staying on the farm.

>They all knew the two of you weren't really a thing, but they welcomed you like family anyway. Maybe that was just a consequence of them being a bunch of up-north yokels, but it still felt nice.

>Bob and Rosie even joked about it, putting the two of you in her old room since 'the dogs claimed the couch.'

>...and while they weren't lying, it was kind of funny.

>That first night is where you almost did it, Talia barging in like one of your old roommates as you read in her bed.

>'What are you doing?'

>'Reading?'

>She threw her flannel off with a slight huff, almost doing the same to her shirt before she seemed to remember you were right there.

>'Reading in my bed,' she said, opening the door to her closet and stepping behind it.

>'But we're together, moon munchkin,' you teased, shutting the book, 'it's our bed.'

>You heard her growl, though there was a little laughter to it as her shirt appeared over the door, her pants going next.

>'Very funny, you filthy little communist,' she teased, stepping around the door. 'Now off. I wanna go to bed.'

>You stared at her, and she stared at you; her sleeping pants were, of course, flannel, loose like the faded tanktop she wore.

>You remember that lump in your throat forming, your chest feeling light.

>The she-wolf stalked closer, until she towered over you with her hands on her hips, looking slightly impatient.

>'Talia --' was all you managed before you felt things close up inside, it taking all of your will to simply keep your cool.

>'What?'

>'W-where am I going to sleep?'

>That stopped her for a second, her expression softening.

>'You can use some of my camping gear,' she said, returning to her closet and pulling out a sleeping bag.

>It smelled like her, which made it easier to sleep than you'd like to admit.

>Her snoring, not so much...

>You can still hear it now; you can still smell her, even over the decades-old carbon and grit that you're swabbing out from the receiver with a q-tip.

>She smelled like -- smells like -- old wood and wet fields, like fresh grass and earth.

>You know you caught a whiff of it the third time you almost admitted that you liked her. On Monday, when she hugged you and left.

>And Tuesday, kind of.

>You're just going to count all those times that you thought of things you could have said, should have said, as time number three, because you'd lose track otherwise.

>Satisfied with the amount of blackened q-tips that now lay on your table, you hold the receiver to the light, looking for any other hidden deposits of carbon, only to find none.

>All that's left is dust, light bits that will be washed away with your wipes.

>As you begin, you decide that the trip to her parents' place was when you began to feel it for real. The party doesn't count.

>Sure, what she did made you like her more, but you'd probably like anyone if they saved you from getting raped.

>And that howl thing she did was pretty hot.

>But you never let her in on it, since you never could be sure she felt the same way.

>You didn't want to be the one to break that rule that the two of you set down day one, that what was between you was an act.

>After you almost did at her parent's place, ever since it's always been limited to 'what ifs' and 'should haves.'

>She was keeping up the act perfectly fine. The two of you were friends, sure, but it wasn't ever more than that.

>Until yesterday.

>You set the receiver down, the gunmetal gleaming in the light.

>The rest of the parts do as well, each cleaned, detailed, and polished.

>You know how they all work together now, the spots of wear and suspect alignment fixed... hopefully.

>You let out an exhale through your nose, nodding slightly to yourself.

>All that's left is to put it back together.

>You can't help but keep chuckling to yourself as you drive along the Sector Mainway, fields of corn waving to either side of you in the dusk.

>You really are driving to the range with a lever-action shotgun and a rose-box.

>So-bad-its-good one-liners from decades ago fill your head, and you half think about wearing sunglasses, even if you don't have the leather to match.

>It all calms your nerves, somewhat. Not much more you can do on that front.

>You've thought things over, you've rehearsed what you're going to say -- even if you know it'll all go out the window when you see her -- and you got her flowers.

>...She'll probably laugh her ass off at that, but that'll make things easier, hopefully.

>Laughing would be one of the better reactions Talia could have.

>You try not to think about the others as you pull into the near-empty gravel lot of the range, only hearing one or two faint cracks of gunfire.

>The range closes at sunset, officially, but most of the staff would let you stay late if you asked them -- and knew them.

>But you're not actually here to play with the 1901, though you brought a box or two of shells along just in case.

>You're here for Talia.

>To fix things.

>And you know that she's probably still here, given that she took on the extra work at the range for the week.

>The she-wolf isn't the one that greets you at the gate, however; Sally does instead, the squirrel as easygoing as ever.

>"Hey A-non," she says, giving you a wave. "You're a bit late. Hope all you're plannin' on shootin' is that one gun, we close soon."

>"Yep, just this," you say, jostling the canvas case. It wasn't the most protective, not the normal hard-backed one you'd use, but the old surplus carrying case was the closest at hand when you finally managed to get the Winchester back together.

>You don't dare give the range bag the same treatment as you step away.

>There's roses in there, after all.

>"By the way," you ask, "where's Talia?"

>You watch the squirrel's face carefully, praying that the she-wolf didn't badmouth you or something, but Sally remains serene, that bucktooth smile still plastering her face.

>"She didn't come in today," she says instead. "Decided to take today and tomorrow off... or, I guess not to work like she said she was?"

>You stand there, frozen as the squirrel marshals her thoughts.

>"She wasn't scheduled for those days anyway, but she said she would come in for them Tuesday, but this morning she said she wouldn't, so it--"

>"Thanks, Sally," you say.

>"Yer welcome, Anon," she says, unperturbed by the way you turn tail. "Tell your girlfriend I say 'hi!'"

>The words have a sting she didn't likely intend.

>You get back in the truck, tossing the 1901 on the bench beside you, the bag with the roses going on top. Your wheels are back on old, cracked pavement before you actually begin thinking about what's going on.

>Considering she hasn't said anything to you all day, maybe Talia's in a funk. Hell, you almost were.

>Funny how fucking things up with a friend can hurt worse than the looming threat of a bad trial -- though, hopefully you've got nothing to worry about on that front.

>Perhaps she decided not to come in to work because she's confident the countersuit against Pat will give her enough to live comfortably for a long while.

>Hopefully her nose didn't somehow start getting worse, now that you're thinking about it.

>Either way, you need to talk to her. Not just about quitting her day job, either.

>You've got to fix things, because that's what you do.

>You come back out of your head, finding the Hilux cruising at 85 in what must be a 50 zone. After slowing down -- only a little -- you realize you're already on your way to the farmhouse.

>The sun is gone by the time you get there, a deep purple staining the sky to the west when you bump up into her driveway.

>It's with a bit of concern you note that her truck is gone, the gravel empty as the house appears to be. Anthros with good night vision like Talia sometimes leave most of their lights off, so you're not entirely worried.

>But growing dark presses in on you when you step out of the car. You just breathe for a moment, slowly glancing around.

>...what if it wasn't Talia's decision at all?

>You fling open the cab door, yanking out the shotgun and loading up with shaky fingers, trying to be fast and quiet.

>The two of you set Patricia up, an officer of the State.

>The noise of the rolling-block action echoes in Talia's yard.

>It wouldn't be too far a stretch for her and some three-letter buddies to take some kind of revenge.

>You keep the Winchester at a low ready as you approach the house, wishing desperately you actually had a rose-box version of the gun rather than the full length monstrosity.

>Might have been good for clearing out threats in the plains or the forest, but not rooms.

>The door's locked, quelling your fears somewhat. You look down at the shotgun in your hands, feeling like an idiot.

>Here you are, coming to try and mend things, and the tool you bring to the door is a goddamn 10 gauge!

>If Pat wanted to fuck with you and Talia, she wouldn't have to be subtle about it. And knowing the shepherdess, she wouldn't be.

>Quiet as you can, you return the shotgun to the car, exchanging it for the box of flowers.

>"Talia?"

>There's no response, even when you bang on the door.

>That unease returns as you go under her porch, finding the spare key where she always keeps it; you're not sure if it's because of the situation, or the fact you'll actually need to face her.

>"Talia? You here?"

>The house doesn't answer, the space the same state of slight mess that the she-wolf almost always keeps it in.

>You continue calling her name, being sure to make plenty of noise as you search the first floor, then the second.

>You were wishing for the shotgun again when you mounted the stairs, the only light switch at the top for whatever reason.

>When no grotesque monster leapt out from the darkness, you still found yourself uneasy.

>You sigh, closing the last door.

>The she-wolf isn't here.

>What about her stuff? Her car is gone, maybe if you knew what other things she --

>The blaring of a steel symphony makes you jump, an expletive escaping you; you're somewhat glad you didn't bring the shotgun, now.

>You pull the phone out, still swearing softly, to find that it's Lyons.

>"Hello?"

>"Hello, Mr. Anonerson. I'm glad I was able to reach you."

>You sigh away from the mic, sitting down in one of the chairs that dots the she-wolf's room.

>"I wanted to give you and Ms. Grilliz an update on your case, but she didn't pick up."

>Great; you suppress your groan, letting your head fall back.

>"Only good news, I hope?" you ask instead.

>"Yes, actually," the lion says. "I've contacted the various witnesses you and Ms. Grilliz informed me of, and I'm happy to say that the majority agreed to act as witnesses. And, from what Mr. Halbrooke has told me about his associates' progress, we should be good on that fro --"

>The lawyer's voice went a little quiet as your phone attempted to chime, letting you know you received a text. You let him go on about the details of how your ass was getting saved by a few of your idols as you check it.

>Your heart thuds a little when you see it's from her.

>It's a simple message, one that you've gotten from her before.

>'Woods outside look nice today.'

>You get up, rushing towards the stairs and try to get down them as quick as you can without breaking your neck.

>"Lyons, I'll need to call you back," you say into your phone, cursing as you fumble with the screen to bring the menu back down with the 'end call' button.

>You vaguely hear him before you manage to find it, but you don't care.

>The Hilux can't start fast enough as you slide in, gunning it backwards down her drive, spraying the road with gravel before you peel out.

>That phrase means much more than it seems.

>It's the signal that Talia would give you when she was going to go off in the woods for a few days, up north past her parents' farm.

>The engine roars; the loose shells in the 10 gauge box rattle beside you.

>The words she said earlier in the week come back to you, making your heart sink.

>'If it weren't for things like that, I don't know if I'd ever come back from those trips.'

>Your knuckles go white on the wheel, the accelerator as far down as it'll go.

>'I could do it, you know. Just stay out there in the woods forever.'

>The whole truck rattles when you slam on the breaks, just managing to spot the stop sign ahead, the darkened crops obscuring the intersection.

>'I'm sure of it.'

>You pant slightly, finding that you've miraculously not skidded into the center, and the truck is still together.

>You wipe your face; she's going to try and run. You have a good idea where, too, talking with her and her folks.

>And part of you wants to go with.

>"Fu-UHcK!" you exclaim, stomping on the gas again.

>All you know is that you've got to head north.

>You're not sure what you'll do, how you'll find her. Maybe her folks will know. Maybe she told them what happened, and maybe you'll get shot for telling them you're searching for their daughter with a 10 gauge.

>You grit your teeth, speeding towards the InterSector.

>All you know is that you're not stopping until you find her.

>Until you make things right.

Chapter 7: Reunion

>It's not yet light out when you reach the forest.

>You passed her parents' farm four hours ago -- it was dark then too.

>Passing them by wasn't a completely conscious decision on your part. You'd debated it during the journey up to that point, still undecided when you came near their exit.

>Life made the decision for you; you didn't realize until you were at the next exit, some 10 miles out, that you had missed them.

>You let out a groan, the fabric on the steering wheel creaking as you squeeze it again.

>And you thought you were fucked-up back then...

>You're tired, your legs hurt, your eyes are dry and gritty, and the headache you've been nursing since hour three has only grown more skull-splitting in intensity.

>As a rule, you only ate when the truck did -- which meant you had an annoyingly high number of opportunities.

>Early on, when the first signs of fatigue were showing, you had the brilliant idea to get some of that over-the-counter, legally distinct crack to keep your energy up.

>Maybe that's why your blood feels like syrup, even if the waking effects have worn off already.

>Tuning the radio was keeping you busy, but there's no signal here in the woods.

>That's okay: you're no longer on the road. The old logging trail you're on is challenging enough as is, even with the Hilux's power. The last thing you want to do is get stuck or lost.

>Maybe 'lost' isn't the right word.

>You want to avoid driving off into the woods, and the trail looks damn close to the forest floor in more than a few places.

>It's monotonous.

>You wonder if you've gone down the wrong trail a few times, but you know this was the right one.

>Talia took you out here. Once, back when you visited her folks.

>A few of them had come along as well. Her two brothers.

>You weren't sure if it was because they actually wanted to, or if their Pa wanted to keep an eye on you and his daughter -- even if he knew the two of you weren't actually dating.

>It was just a day trip, no camping in the woods. Again, you don't know if it was her parents being overprotective, or her not wanting to reveal too much of her home away from home.

>You know that Atlas and Apollo didn't know too much about the place, at least.

>She wanted it to be hers, you could tell. That's why you know she's here.

>That's why you drove for eight hours straight.

>She's got to be.

>Your first reaction upon seeing tail-lights is to worry that you're seeing things. When you brake, though, and flash the brights, the rear end of the truck comes into view.

>It's a big, red Ford 350, from some early-century year.

>Talia's.

>The ground doesn't feel right beneath you when you jump from the Hilux. Your legs are pins and needles, your joints are tight. You vaguely recognize that there's light to the east as you hobble up, a hint of orange reaching from between the trees.

>There's a Shoktan range sticker in the back window: Talia's truck, alright. You root through the bed, jimmying the tonneau cover lock -- it doesn't actually work, but the presence alone deters most people from bothering.

>You attempt to grunt, finding it hard to use your own voice. The amount of food and other supplies tells you she's planning on staying a while.

>And yet, the actual camp materials are missing. No tent, no sleeping bag.

>Given the fact she hasn't prodded the back of your head with a gun barrel, you figure she's not sleeping in the cab. Must be somewhere nearby.

>The woods seem peaceful as you walk back; the bellow of your horn shatters that right quick.

>Kicking the truck back into gear, you stick your head out the window and begin yelling the she-wolf's name, driving slow past her truck.

>There's no real trail anymore, but that's not what you're concerned about.

>You make it a good hundred yards before you realize this is a stupid idea; there's no way you can hear Talia over the engine, so there's no point in yelling.

>You also may have just woken someone else -- or some_thing_ else -- up.

>Cursing, you roll up the windows and park the car, pulling the 1901 from beside you and loading it up again.

>You've got just enough presence of mind to be deliberate, knowing that you probably shouldn't be doing any of this in the state you're in.

>You shouldn't be out here blundering about in the woods, tens of miles from civilization, when you've got a state trial in two days. You shouldn't be loading up this gun, even if you weren't sleep-deprived and somewhat hungry.

>And you probably shouldn't be chasing after some wolf-girl because she kissed you a day ago.

>As you slide the last shell into the chamber, you manage a laugh; all those songs and stories about love weren't too far off, it seems.

>Letting down the hammer is more nerve-wracking than usual, the process already difficult with how deep in the receiver the piece is set. Being kept awake by will alone helps none.

>You resume when it's set, sticking your head out the window. Half to see if you'll be able to hear Talia, and half to guide the Hilux through the woods.

>You lay into the horn every now and then, though the roar of the engine as you coax it through small dips and over felled trees is just as loud.

>The faint light in the east has grown stronger by the time you manage to get the old girl stuck. Despite all your begging and pleading, the Hilux can't free itself from the half-dried creek bed you managed to park her in.

>"I'm sorry," you tell your ancient, reliable steed, letting her engine rest. You're more mad at yourself than the truck; getting it stuck in the middle of the woods will make any return journey a pain in the ass.

>First, though, you need to find Talia.

>You sling the 1901 over your shoulder, and root through the mess that is the truckbed.

>Earlier, partway through the drive up, you realized your chase after Talia might take longer than you thought. The truck-stop survival gear you picked up won't hold up long, but it'll have to be enough.

>You take a few choice pieces that Talia left behind as well, shoving it all haphazardly into a backpack.

>The hood of the Toyota is still warm when you pat it lovingly, unslinging the 1901. Holding it will keep you awake. The metal and wood will keep you centered.

>It has to.

>Hiking through the woods soon proves just as difficult as driving through it; five minutes in, and you've already almost fallen twice.

>You're not sure how far you've made it when your head, once just pounding, now begins to spin.

>Guzzling the water bottle you brought doesn't help, and crouching down to retrieve it from your pack certainly didn't either.

>Eventually, you fall, tripping up onto the top of a small hill. As you lay there, face in the earthy forest floor, you find yourself comfortable.

>The carpet of dead leaves is cool against your skin, the weight of your pack somehow comforting. Even the position, as uncomfortable as it should be, seems suited for rest.

>You allow yourself five seconds -- or maybe five minutes? -- to catch your breath before you pull yourself up.

>You make it to a nearby tree, sitting against it. You reach for your water, forgetting that you emptied it earlier.

>You curse, dropping it to the side.

>Just another five minutes to rest -- you don't know how long you've been going, but you know it's long enough that a rest to catch your breath couldn't hurt.

>The morning light filters through the trees, and you only realize then how beautiful it all is.

>Vibrant greens fill your vision, from the canopy to the short saplings and undergrowth. Mosses and lichen of similar shades dot the trunks around you, the occasional birch a beautiful contrast.

>There are birds chirping, you realize.

>You chuckle to yourself, settling into your seat -- it really feels like one of those nature documentary things.

>Hopefully this one doesn't end up with the foolhardy explorer getting lost or dying.

>You can feel your mind begin to drift off as you do, the scene around you going through that one last intensification before completely fading out.

>You know you're drifting when you see her approach, your she-wolf in plaid.

>You smile, closing your eyes.

>You'll wake up soon.

>When you do, it's slow. You're reluctant.

>That confuses you in your half-awake state, as you consider where you'd sat down, what you'd been doing.

>The canopy above you now is a darker shade of green, and the tree you were resting your head against is much, much softer.

>And you're... laying down?

>There's a new sensation on your hair, like a faint breeze. Soon, you realize it's a set of rough pawpads.

>You hear a hum, your new pillow shifting slightly.

>"Talia?"

>You shift as well, finding your face pressed in a familiar flannel.

>She really does smell like the forest.

>The she-wolf pulls away from you with an exasperated groan, letting you scramble to your hands and knees.

>"The fuck are you doing here, dumbass?"

>The first thing you notice is that her bandage is gone. The next is that the red and black flannel is her base layer now, a camo jacket over it.

>"You were dry as a fucking mummy when I found you! You seriously only bring one bottle of water?"

>It's real anger in her voice, on her face as she sits there in the tent with you.

>But you know the truth.

>You hope you do, at least.

>That her anger comes from a different emotion.

>You pull yourself into a crouch as she berates you for getting the Hilux stuck after laying into its horn.

>"...and -- Anon, what the fuck are you --?!"

>You spring at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. The she-wolf falls over, despite being significantly larger. She rolls so the two of you are on your sides; she's tense when she comes to rest, her chest still against yours.

>Her eyes are wide when you pull your face from her shoulder, shifting your hands further up her mane.

>"Anon --" she starts, but stops when you press your lips to hers, digging your fingers into her fur.

>There's a pause between the two of you then, just sitting like that, staring at each other, connected.

>You're terrified the whole time.

>But then Talia's claws dig into the back of your head, and it's like you're back on her couch again. Like that makeout-session never stopped.

>Her muzzle is cocked sideways, her velvety tongue coating your mouth as her teeth dig into your cheeks.

>Her eyes are closed again; this time, you close yours too.

>You glide your hands along her profile, her fur silky. Despite the way her tongue pokes and prods at yours, and the way she clamps her teeth tighter with a slight growl, she leans into your touch happily.

>Her pawpads scrape over your face while your hands fumble at her flannel; she holds your head in place when she draws back just enough for a quick gasp of air, a quiet 'fuck' escaping her lips before they crash right back into yours.

>You stiffen when she grabs your ass, her claws digging in. The she-wolf uses that window, managing to nip your tongue and pull it between her teeth, making you groan even more against her as she begins to suck.

>Soon, the heat between your groins isn't just from mutual arousal. She's lifted a leg over you, in addition to grinding you against her with that hand on your ass; you're only too happy to help.

>The she-wolf finally pulls away for good when you manage to free her breasts, arching back with a moan as you watch them spill free.

>Of course she'd go commando.

>"Anon," she huffs; she arcs back down, pressing her forehead to yours.

>"Anon... god damn it, Anon..."

>You move your hands to her head as she pants, her paws shifting any way they can to hold you close.

>"I... I love you, Talia," you pant.

>You pause, the two of you staring at each other again before you peck her snout.

>"Fuck, I've wanted to say that for so long..."

>She hums, a hand going to your cheek.

>"You sure it wasn't that -- you wanted to grab my tits?"

>"Fuck off," you laugh. "You -- you started it!"

>"No," she says, pulling back to peck you on the nose before dipping her head over your shoulder.

>"You did. And... Christ, I'm glad you did."

>You take a breath, your face in her mane; even if it's more or less like the forest around you, her scent is comforting. Or maybe that's her arms around you tight, or the fact that you can hold her for the first time without fear, or shame.

>"You're the one that started getting grabby," you say.

>She does so again, pulling you by the hair to look up at her.

>"You started it by grabbing my a--"

>She's the one to shut you up with her lips this time, delving deep from the start once more.

>You nuzzle into it, into her, melting only when you feel her long, canine tongue tickling at the back of your throat. Only when you go slack does she pull back, dragging that soft tongue the whole way until it comes free with a slight 'pop.'

>"Shut up," she growls, before squeezing you into a hug even more bone-crushing than the first. Then, after a few breaths, she sighs.

>"I wanted to do that for a while, too..."

>You allow yourself a few more moments of peace, your face pressed in her mane, before you let reality seep in.

>"What the hell are you doing out here?"

>Talia grunts.

>"I could ask you the same thing, dumbass."

>"Chasing after your fluffy ass before we both make a big mistake!"

>That gets her to let you go, her grunt being closer to a growl this time as she sits up.

>"Both of us?" she snorts. "You're the one that showed up half-dead with a single bottle of water, plowing your way through the--"

>"Quit lying, Talia!"

>She stops, her fur puffing a little.

>"Just... it's okay. We don't have to hide it anymore, we don't have to lie to each other."

>The way she looks away from you says she doesn't quite believe it.

>You groan softly to yourself; it really is true what they say about love.

>"What were you doing?"

>"Going to the woods," she answers, still not looking back. "I sent you the text."

>"And when the trial was meant to happen, two days from now?"

>Talia whines softly, then looks at you. Only now do you notice that her nose is still a little swollen.

>"I wasn't -- I'm not going. I --"

>She pauses, choosing her words; she seems to struggle to keep her voice even.

>"It doesn't matter how much you love me, Anon. You're not convincing me to go back. This... this is what I wanted to do. What I've always wanted to do. And -- and I know that I can do it."

>You sigh. Not for her, but for yourself.

>You're really about to do this, aren't you?

>"I'm not mad about that, Talia. I'm mad that you'd do it without me."

>Her brow raises a little in surprise, but soon it's back down with suspicion.

>"You're not all that mushy -- and I'm not that dumb. Why'd you show up with half my gear if you were serious?"

>"I -- well, I kind of figured things out late last night..."

>Talia's ears perk up, but she doesn't say anything.

>"I didn't exactly have time to prepare. I started driving at like...9, I think? I mean, I picked up a few things along the way, but --"

>"You drove eight hours straight here?"

>"Well... yeah..."

>The she-wolf chuckles as you begin to blush slightly.

>"And I'm the dumb one without a plan."

>"You still are."

>She snorts.

>"Quit it, Anon, you're not convincing me. I'm --"

>"You're running off inna woods, I get it! But what are you going to do?"

>You pause as you gesture around.

>"You can live out here, I get that, but don't you think they'll come looking? Don't you think they'll send someone after us, that Pat might send someone after us?"

>"I did, actually," the she-wolf says. "I've got a plan for it."

>"Shooting your way out is not a plan!"

>"You were the one bumbling about with a lever gun."

>"I can smell the cosmoline, Talia, I know you've got your Sks here. And --"

>You sniff the air for a moment: carbon.

>"--and a .22."

>Talia tries not to look surprised, but can't stifle the quiet 'damn...'

>"That ain't it, anyway," she says, looking away again.

>"Then what is?"

>"Easy," she says.

>"Cross into NSE."

>You were ready with a scathing retort, but that stops you in your tracks; you weren't expecting that.

>You try to recall your geography, and figure out how far out the border is. It's not terribly far -- if you were in a car.

>The she-wolf could easily make the hike, and for all you know, she has. But you're doubtful that it'd solve your problems.

>"It's still State, Talia. How is crossing that line going to help?"

>"It's still State, yeah, but there's different cops," she says, turning back to you. "The ones from WCS have no authority there, and the NSE ones will be sure to remind them of that."

>She... does have a point. The she-wolf shifts to a low crouch, beginning to clean up the tent.

>"Well, what happens when they get tipped off? Pat and whoever else she's got in the local State are going to send them tips and resources."

>"You ever look at a map of up there, Anon? There's a reason it's a big, fat, arbitrary square. There's no one up there, they've got a population density of like 1 per 20 square miles."

>She zips up a bag with finality, looking at you over her shoulder.

>"No one up there is going to care."

>"...What about -- "

>"There's a reason I left the truck like it is," she interrupts. "I'm hiking -- won't have to deal with any processing booths, and there's enough evidence to make me getting lost in the woods plausible."

>"...I was going to ask how you were planning on dealing with winter."

>She turns to you with a quizzical look, and points to her bare bust with a slight bounce.

>"Fur."

>"Will you put those away?"

>The she-wolf grins fully now, but turns away from you, continuing her packing.

>"I don't know, figured you'd want to suck on 'em at least once before I left."

>You grunt before getting up yourself, finding your cheap backpack.

>"That'd be nice," you admit, "but we'll have plenty of time to do it when we get there."

>Talia pauses, turning to you slowly.

>"You're not --"

>"Like hell I'm not! If I can't convince you to come back -- and I know I can't -- then I'm going with!"

>Her ears flatten slightly as she looks down at you.

>"This isn't going to be like that one weekend trip, Anon. We're going to be living in the field, with no option to just back out. Not on a campsite, not on hiking trails, but in the middle of nowhere."

>Her gaze is hard; you match it.

>"You really going to leave your little museum collection to be homeless and on the run?"

>You reach up, threading your fingers into the fur that frames her face.

>"Yes."

>You press your lips to hers once more, pulling back before she can grab your head to lock you there.

>"When I said I loved you earlier, I meant it."

>She runs her claws through your hair, her eyes darting between yours until she breaks away with a huff.

>"Then let's get going, dumbass," she half-growls. "I lost most of the morning making sure you weren't dead."

>You gather your pack and exit the tent, and attempt to start helping her break it down. A flash of red and gray tells you she never did close that flannel.

>...damn, that fur must be thick...

>"Even if I'm going with," you say, "I still wouldn't mind giving them a suck before we leave."

>That wipes away the she-wolf's RBF for a moment; she gives you a confused look before she realizes her awoobies are hanging free.

>"Oh, don't you worry," she chuckles, pausing to cover back up, "you'll be doing a whole lot more than that tonight..."

>After a few more silent seconds of breaking down the tent -- mainly watching her do it and staying out of the way -- you ask "...really?"

>With a final pull from Talia, the tent collapses into a pile of fabric, rods, and string. When you look up, the she-wolf is already pressed up against you, her eyes unfamiliar as she looks down at you.

>It's unhidden, unabashed, predatory lust.

>You squeak before you even recognize that she's cupped your groin, the pressure firm as her claws dig in to the sensitive skin around your package.

>"Oh, yes," she breathes, hot on your face.

>She squeezes, and you grab her arms desperately; she's stooped down to reach you and you're up on your toes, putting her face just above yours, plastered with half-lid eyes and a devious smile. You whimper as she brushes a thumb on your cheek before giving you a long, slow lick across the face. Her muzzle scrapes along the side of your face as she brings her lips to your ear.

>"There's many other things I've been wanting to do to you for a long, long time..."

>She licks her lips; you feel yourself thrust into her grip, and she gives a low chuckle.

>"The hardest part will be making sure you can still walk."

>You gasp when she lets you go with a slight shove, and you almost fall on your ass.

>"Now, pack up the tent," the she-wolf says, walking off with your bag. "I'm going to the trucks to scrape a bag together for you.

>"I -- I moved all your shit to mine!" you manage, staring at her as she moves. She looks back, giving you another devious grin as her tail wags slightly.

>"Good boy."

>You sit there, staring at her until she's melded back into the forest.

>"Fucking hell..." you mutter to yourself. "Today is going to hurt, isn't it?"

>Some 10 hours later, you're sorry to say that you were right.

>You're not terribly out of shape, but hiking for that long straight certainly pushed you to your limit.

>Talia kept a solid pace, though with her long legs, that wasn't surprising. The fact that she seemed impervious to any of the rocks, deadfall, or tree roots that constantly tripped you up was.

>Parts of it were still fun, even later in the day. Crossing the small rivers and streams, climbing up slopes, spotting the occasional deer or squirrel -- those things made you forget the stakes, if only for a moment.

>But now, with sore legs, an aching back, and some chaffing in all the worst places, those stakes are all that's on your mind.

>That and the fact jeans were a terrible fucking idea. Though it's not like you prepared.

>Talia tasked you with figuring out how far the two of you had made it while she set up the shelter, the two of you working by lantern-light.

>Assuming you're reading the map correctly, the two of you covered 20 miles.

>It's 60 more to the nearest part of the NSE border, assuming there's no ravines or other impasses.

>That's three days of travel at this same pace; one more than you have.

>You groan, stretching your legs to little avail. If anything, you'll be going slower.

>"So?"

>Talia stands beside the completed tent, looking down at you.

>"Well, we... we made it 20 miles."

>The she-wolf grunts softly, trying to hide her expression of concern. She sits down beside you, checking your work; another grunt tells you you were right enough.

>"Come on," she says, pulling herself up. "We're starting early tomorrow. We'll need rest."

>You do your best to stifle the winces as you stand, but you still walk over to the tent like a cowboy. Talia secures the flap behind you, letting you finally unsling your pack. Sitting down is a careful process, but you're relieved to find the ground is relatively soft.

>You pull a rag from your bag, and shine the lantern across the surface of your 1901, rubbing at the occasional spot of mud or dirt. The hammer is still down, still safe enough that you're not going to worry about it.

>When you look up, you see that Talia has stripped; you get a facefull of her gray behind as she pumps up a sleeping mat, her clothes stuffed into its cover appearing to be her pillow.

>You look over her curves, the interplay of brown, black, and white in her fur. She's beautiful, for sure, but the moment still doesn't feel real. You don't feel like you thought you would, like you did in all the daydreaming you've done over the past year or so.

>Then again, you didn't exactly imagine that you'd be so worn down when it happened.

>The groan you let out is unrestrained, lightened a little by the relief you feel after kicking off your boots, then your pants. When you finish with a huff, you look up to see Talia staring at you with concern.

>"I-it's nothing," you say. "Just -- just eager to get to the main event, is all."

>"Uh -- huh..."

>She crawls over to you, pulling off your undergarments as you try not to hiss.

>"I thought you said we weren't lying to each other anymore."

>You grasp for straws as the she-wolf flings your boxers with your other discarded clothes, surveying the red marks on your inner thighs.

>"You didn't have to get naked, you know," she says, crawling back to the mat and patting the spot next to her as she lies on her side.

>"How else are you gonna do all those things?" you ask: one stride into your crawl you wince and adjust, the air cool on your irritated skin.

>She snorts, snaking an arm behind your head when you finally make it, pulling you down to face her.

>"You're a horny little bastard, ain'tcha?" she coos.

>She kisses your forehead; it's restrained, gentle. Her paws are too, gliding over you slowly, softly, pausing when you twitch.

>"You're the one that said we'd fuck until I couldn't walk..." you mutter, lost in her fur as you stroke it, all of it.

>Suddenly it's all around you, your face stuffed in the hollow between her breasts.

>"Shut up," the she-wolf whispers, kneading at your hair.

>"We can do some of the more... gentle things I've been waiting to do. Like this."

>She hums, and you reply in kind.

>You nuzzle into her softness, into her warmth. You squeeze her tight, your fingers digging in with a soft groan as you try to ingrain her scent into you.

>"...The only reason I got naked is because it's warm, by the way."

>You snort, your 'yeah right" unrecognizable when it emerges from her fluffy bust. The she-wolf gets the gist, of course.

>"Really. But you probably shouldn't have -- even if it's summer, that soft, bare humie skin of yours is gonna let all the heat out."

>You grunt, feeling her pull you closer.

>"Now I have to hold you like this all night... you really are a burden, you know that, dumbass?"

>She giggles at the muffled 'fuck off' that bubbles up from her breasts. After a little more cooing, though, she falls quiet, letting you bask in her glory.

>Her fur is so soft, more than you imagined.

>The flesh beyond that is too, squishing against you as her chest rises and falls, her breasts squeezing around your head in her embrace.

>Her scent is comforting, as are her hands on your body, and the way she feels in your arms.

>Slowly, you begin to feel the aches and itches begin to fade, the world around you limited to the smell of her, the feel of her, and the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing.

>"...You can breathe in there, right?"

>Her voice is warm, her tone hinting that she really is worried.

>You nod into her chest with a muffled groan, shifting to press more completely against her. She coos in response, rough pawpads scritching against you, careful to avoid the tender spots.

>"Good," is all you catch before you pass out.

Chapter 8: Renewal

>You're in the forest, naked. Talia is there, sitting on a log -- the lighting feels off, like it's daylight here and night everywhere else.

>Canopy is just denser than you remember.

>The she wolf is wearing her flannel and nothing else. She's smiling, proud of her fuzzy curves.

>Not just fuzzy as in furry, but slightly out of focus, too. You rub your eyes, but she doesn't come into focus. You need water, probably.

>She motions you over with a finger, producing a bowl of water from nearby. You feel relief as you move closer, but you're still a little on edge. You didn't think the forest was this dense when you made camp.

>She lays you down, resting your head on her lap, and pours a little water on her paws. She gingerly rubs your head and groin, and you suck the beads of water from her fingertips.

>Soon you feel yourself panting. The she-wolf coos, her words unintelligible as she looks down at you.

>The sky above her is off too, you realize, a bright white against the black leaves and branches.

>It's hard to focus on that or the uneasy feeling; the water is warm and soothing, her pads soft.

>You feel warm, sluggish, like you want to sleep but are unable to. You close your eyes but it's all still there, Talia's cooing continuing.

>Slowly, a figure forms above the two of you, hanging there in the sky.

>It takes you a minute to realize it's Patricia, that evil smile unmistakable.

>Talia seems blissfully unaware, continuing to make her low, animal noises as she strokes you.

>You try to work up the willpower to move, to warn her, but it's useless.

>You still try harder as the shepherd begins to descend like a spider from the sky, fangs bared, joyful malice in her eyes.

>The she-wolf's nose bleeds crimson as it all falls apart, her words gaining form.

>"Hey, hey! Anon, I'm here!"

>Talia holds you still when you finally can move more than a few inches. She comes into focus, and her nose isn't bleeding anymore, her smile gone.

>You jerk again as the figure above the two of you appears again. Talia presses down on your shoulders, and you realize the figure is just shadows in the top of the tent.

>"Calm down, dumbass, it's okay. I'm right here."

>You pant a little as you wake up properly, finding yourself in her lap. It's not quite like the dream, her stomach above your head rather than beside it, but her thighs are beneath it all the same.

>"You have nightmares every night?" she asks, stroking your cheeks and hair.

>"No, I -- no, I don't..."

>The she-wolf grunts, closing her eyes and leaning back.

>"...You know, 'dumbass' is a great thing to call someone when they just wake up..."

>She snorts, pinching your lips gently. You realize her pawpads are damp, and that there's a new smell in the tent.

>"Shut up, Anon. You --"

>She stops as you bat her hand away, sniffing the air.

>"Why the fuck is your hand wet?"

>The way you can feel her fur poof out against you makes you shiver; you look up, and see that she's no longer looking down at you from over the hills of her breasts.

>You feel a cool breeze down below and realize you're at half-mast, your groin just a little wet. Similar to your face -- and the thighs beneath you, you realize.

>"Talia!" you say, scrambling away from her and turning around. She doesn't quite look at you, her ears folded back.

>"What were you doing?"

>The she-wolf lowers her muzzle and looks off to the side, her hands covering her chest.

>"I... I knew the chaffing was going to irritate you, and make you go slower, so I... I was licking at it. Trying to make it better."

>"And my dick?"

>She looks at you, and you see a hint of that lust from the day before.

>"It was right there! And your legs seemed better, so --"

>"So you started sucking my dick."

>"No! I was just licking it!"

>You laugh, watching her ears flatten.

>"Quite the difference, ther--"

>Talia tackles you this time. She stays on top, her paws on your shoulders as she looks down at you. That pseudo-blush is still there when she speaks, but her tone says nothing of embarrassment.

>"I've been imagining you like this since January," she says, her claws digging in a little. "After yesterday morning, that's all I thought about while we were walking."

>She leans in close, ignoring your hands on her arms and giving your face a long lick as her muzzle nears your ear.

>"In the back of my mind, I wondered what it would look like. What it'd feel like. What it'd taste like."

>Her lupine tongue darts over your ear with her last words, and you shiver.

>"I waited all day, and then all night," she whispers with a slight growl. "I don't want to wait any more."

>She nips your ear, then at your neck. You dig your fingers into her fur and try not to wince.

>"W-what about my face?"

>The she-wolf pauses, looking up at you while keeping her teeth on your clavicle.

>"What?" she asks; you shiver again as her breath flows across your chest, the tenor of her words vibrating through your bones.

>"It -- my face was wet --" you stutter, spotting her tail wagging in your periphery."Did you -- you lick me there too?"

>Her chuckle is husky, and you wish she still had her teeth in you while she did it. She sits up, pressing her weight on your lap and spreading her legs.

>"No," she says, spreading the fur between her thighs. "Not quite."

>You stare at her slit, seeing the white-ish fur around it has become slightly dark. It's not... puffy, or that triangle shape you've seen sometimes. It's been a while since anatomy class, but you --

>"Anon."

>You look up; Talia's staring down at you, attempting to look annoyed. The smile gives her away.

>"Are you just going to stare at it, or are we going to pick up where I left off?"

>She shifts with a smirk, feeling your dick press up against her asscheeks; this time, though, there's no embarrassment. From you or her.

>Just lust.

>"D-don't we have to get moving?"

>Her eyes widen for a second, then she throws her head back in laughter.

>"Oh, you little prick," she chuckles, turning around on your body. Her fluffy ass is right in your face, and you make a worried sound as your legs are lifted and spread, your ass coming up off the ground.

>"T-Talia?"

>The she-wolf chuckles as you try to move, only to find your arms immobilized and your legs tucked up under her arms.

>"Tali-!"

>She sits back, smothering your words in fur. Damp, musky fur.

>She sighs, pressing more of her weight on your face.

>"I was going to ask which you wanted to lick first," she says, shuddering a little as you manage to get your hands on her ass. "But now I think I'll decide for you."

>Then she begins to grind gently, the soft fur of her thick cheeks rubbing up against your face. Your nose scrapes along her cleft as she moves, and you feel disoriented, unsure where exactly you are besides beneath her. You feel around her ass, trying to ground yourself when she does it for you.

>You gasp when you feel her cold nose on your balls, able to hear the drawn out sniff she lets out. As you take your breath, you realize what that odd smell from before was, your mouth close to the source now.

>Your dick twitches.

>"Oh ho ho, you like that, huh?"

>She kisses your head before you can respond, and your legs spasm under her arms. You nod into her perineum, feeling the lower curves of her ass rub against your forehead.

>The she-wolf shudders, pressing more of her weight down on you. She sighs as her lower lips meet yours, and your fingers dig into her fur.

>"Get to licking, Anon," she says. You do, tentatively at first, and you feel her shudder more.

>You can taste her before you even get to her folds, the fur around it soaked in her arousal. Parting the fur to get to her labia seems to be just as pleasing to her as when you actually lick her slick slit. She shifts above you, cocking her hips so you can reach more than just the lower bits.

>She tastes of salt and excitement.

>"Go-od..." she hums, twitching you into place. "Now just keep at it, and --"

>You don't know if it's a moan or another hum, but her breath washes over your cock.

>"--Try not to think about my teeth."

>You do, of course, and grip her ass tighter with a muffled squeak. But there's no stopping the warm, wet maw that slowly engulfs your member, that lupine tongue swirling around it before her jaw sets and her lips seal.

>You can't feel her teeth, but you feel her tongue continuing to tease you. You're pressed up against the soft, ridged walls of her mouth, all of it wet and warm.

>You can even feel the difference between the top and bottom of her tongue, the former like felt and the latter like silk.

>Her lips move slightly against your base, her furry mane occasionally touching your thighs as she wiggles your dick like a joystick. She opens her mouth, letting your head dig into the meat of her tongue while she chuckles.

>You reflexively take a breath as she lifts up, still teasing your member with her tongue.

>"'et 'ack to 'icking," she commands.

>You can't help yourself, even with her 600 pounds hovering above you like a guillotine; you laugh.

>"'at? 'AT?" the she-wolf asks, lifting even higher and letting your lower half slide away from her to see what the fuss is about.

>The growl she gives tells you she doesn't like what she sees.

>"Shut the fuck up, dumbass..." she grumbles, pulling your legs back under her arms.

>You continue laughing until she drops back down on you. Her only response to your immediate scrabbling at her ass is a huff. She twitches herself into place before settling her weight on you, her wet folds on your chin now. She rubs herself against your stubble, grinding your nose into the lower part of her ass and pressing her perineum to your lips.

>"Now get licking!"

>You obey, struggling to open your jaw against her until she pops up with a whine, your chin scraping against her folds. Tonguing the thin fur beneath her holds her at bay for a little bit, more high-pitched squeaks and embarrassing noises coming from her.

>But then she sinks down completely, rocking herself on your chin while you draw patterns between her thighs. You can feel them tense against your arms as she hisses.

>The feeling of her snout against your member once more gives you pause, but you've learned your lesson. You keep licking as she brushes her muzzle alongside it, though her wet nose makes you jolt every time it touches your sac.

>...Maybe she learned her lesson, and is taking it slower.

>Then you feel that long, lupine tongue slide along the upper side of your dick, pushing up against it as it twitches.

>No, she probably hasn't.

>Your toes curl as she folds her tongue around you and begins to bob her head.

>You shudder; her mouth is still open, the sensation of her panting breaths running along the underside of your shaft unlike anything you could have imagined. You actually feel a little faint.

>When she lifts to readjust herself on your face, you realize that was from your empty lungs.

>You let out small whimpers between your rapid gasps, the morning light making the white curves above you glow.

>Talia pauses, letting your member fall from your mouth. You moan again, and the she-wolf lets out a rumbling hum.

>"Those -- happy noises?" she pants.

>Your response is unintelligible, but she seems to know its positive.

>"Good," she says, feeling you shudder as she grabs your shaft again. "You sound so... vulnerable..."

>You splutter, and it's not just from her fluid dripping onto you.

>"Vul -- vulnerable?" you laugh weakly. "What kind of -- pillow talk is that?"

>The she-wolf growls; you go back to the faint, embarrassing noises.

>"I don't know," she asks...

>Then everything goes black as she sits back on your face, pinning your head beneath her furry cheeks.

>"...Seems accurate to me," she says, the words somehow reaching you as you struggle against her butt.

>Talia's only response is to shift around on your face, grinding your face deeper into her ass. You only stop your struggles when you feel her teeth on your sack; the squeak as you stiffen easily cuts through her thick booty.

>"That's what I thought," she says as she lifts up, shuddering at your immediate gasping breath.

>You don't have time to try and respond before she clamps her mouth over your member again. You manage a small cry before she begins to suck.

>Her front teeth scrape along your base, and you can feel the others rub up along the sides. They don't hurt as much as you'd feared -- that or the pleasure just drowns it out.

>Her maw is warm, wet, and seems just firm enough, every bob of her head sending shocks down your spine. You can feel her tongue shifting ever so slightly, and your head slips further and further towards her throat.

>You're not proud of the noise you make when her nose begins to tap your balls, but the sensation overwhelms you. You think you feel her shudder when you do, but you're only focused on two things: trying to breathe, and what she's doing to your nethers.

>When your hips start to spasm, your breaths frantic between her thighs, Talia's grip on your legs tightens. She takes you further in than ever before, the back of her throat so smooth against your head as it pulses, and you're spurting in moments.

>You can't tell if the white in your vision is her fur or headrush.

>You only realize her nose was pressed into your gooch after she pulls away, her canines scraping against your balls as she tries to stifle her choking.

>She managed to fit your sack in her mouth, too.

>"Holy... fuckingshit..."

>She gives your member another cleansing lick, interrupting you with your own moans until she slowly lets your legs and lower half slide back down to the ground.

>"You... you fucking... had my balls in there..."

>The she-wolf sighs heavily above you, and her folds descend dangerously close to your face once more.

>"Yeah, I did."

>You blink a little as she rolls away, arcing her leg over you slowly. That's when you realize your face is soaked in her fluids, the smell of her burned into your nostrils.

>Talia stands, stretching. She tries to stifle her deep breaths, but her heaving chest betrays her. Her breasts move a lot...

>"Gonna go outside and piss real quick," she says, halfway through the tent's flap, "then we'll get moving, alright?"

>You nod, still trying to recover. You roll onto your side, crawling over to the pile of discarded clothes from the day prior.

>Only after you wipe the goom off your face do you remember this is the only shirt you've got for the foreseeable future.

>You try not to think about that too much as you get dressed. The fact that your thighs don't burn when you pull on your pants distracts you -- maybe she really was making things better.

>The wet spot on your shirt seems extra hot when the she-wolf comes back in as if she weren't completely nude. She's smiling, her eyes still a little tired and her tail fanning behind her as she looks you up and down.

>Talia grabs your chin and presses a hard kiss to your lips.

>"Good job," she says as she pulls away, moving to her pillow of discarded clothes.

>You stare at her ass again when she bends over; your face was right there not just a few minutes ago.

>Right in those warm, soft curves.

>Right in her scent, in her fur.

>Right in her --

>"You can get to emptying the tent," she says. "I'll handle breaking it down."

>You hop to it with an affirmative sound, hoping she didn't catch you staring; the look on her face as she watches you deflate the sleeping mat tells you she did.

>So does the way she's 'struggling' to button up her flannel.

>All she does is sneer, though, helping you drag out the gear out into the small clearing the two of you made camp in. You consolidate the gear as she tears down the shelter, folding the old surplus thing into a tight square.

>Soon enough, you're actually setting off; Talia gets a rough reading with her compass, shifts the straps of her pack, and says "well, let's go," before pushing through the underbrush.

>"That's it?" you ask, grunting a little as the branches scrape at you. "Just pick a direction and go?"

>"Border's north, Anon," the she-wolf replies. "Long as that's mostly where we're headed, we'll get there."

>"But... no covering our tracks? No tasting the dirt to see if it's gonna rain, or what the terrain looks like ahead?"

>She chuckles; you're out of the undergrowth now, back in open forest. She slows a little to walk beside you, a paw going to your hair.

>"Nah. I know what's ahead. Mostly forest, some roads here and there, maybe a few old fields."

>She sniffs, craning her neck for effect.

>"Doesn't smell like rain either."

>You don't know if it's true or not, but you suppose it doesn't matter. It'll come either way.

>Kind of like Pat.

>"What about what's behind us?" you ask.

>"...What do you mean?" she asks after a moment, not looking down at you.

>"What about the path we're making? The trail?"

>When she doesn't answer, you add: "What about how the State is going to come after us?"

>Talia sighs, but her pace doesn't slow. It speeds up a little, in fact, forcing you to half-jog to keep up.

>"We don't know if they're coming--"

>"They are."

>"-- and if they are, there's not much we can do."

>You almost stop, but keep marching mechanically after her.

>"Trying to hide our trail would cost too much time, doing that to camp alone would take at least half an hour. That's a good mile or two that we could've walked."

>The numbers from last night loom large in your mind; with 60 to go, every mile will certainly count.

>"Plus, it'd slow our pace even more."

>You barely detect the slight noise she makes after she says it, but the way her tail stiffens is easy to see. You've got no doubt who the other thing is that's slowing pace.

>"It's a race, Anon. Our best bet is to be out of here before they even start."

>A small part of you wants to disagree. Part of you wants to put your cowboy gun to good use, and have a standoff with a certain crooked sheriff.

>You know it's foolish, and that you'd be mowed down in seconds. Or even worse, Bad Sheriff Birch would take you in alive.

>But that doesn't stop you from thinking about how it might be inevitable.

>Talia sighs at your silence.

>"I'm in no rush to deal with them, either."

>You grunt, cinching your pack tighter and check the 1901, making sure it's tight too.

>"Let's go, then."

>You make it a little more than halfway through the day before the doubt begins to seep in.

>The two of you have been marching for the better part of six or seven hours, and whatever miraculous effects the she-wolf's saliva had seems to have worn off. The first signs of discomfort are showing up again, compounded by the tiredness of your lower half as a whole.

>In shape or not, you need a rest after yesterday. Your body isn't ready to do it all over again so soon.

>But you wave Talia off when she gives you those concerned looks, asks if you're okay when you stumble or grunt.

>You're not going to ask her to slow down, nor are you going to ask her to lick at your legs again.

>Not only are you not ready for that, but it'd cost the two of you even more time.

>Which means it'll cost you distance; those mile numbers float up again.

>One of the few things the two of you have talked about is the terrain ahead, and it all looks the same. Undisturbed, lightly-hilled forests might make for good greeting cards, but they're lousy for judging distance traveled.

>Occasionally the trees are interrupted by fallow fields, usually surrounded by overgrown trees and vines that require a good bit of cutting and cussing to pass through. The fields themselves are little better.

>Each time you cross one, you're amazed that the various ticks, burrs, and bugs you and Talia pick up aren't roasted by the sun.

>There have been a few roads, too, but they're not in the sun. The canopy above stretches over them, the shade allowing grasses and ground cover to flourish wherever the gravel or dirt isn't too compacted.

>There are few other markers of civilization out here, and they too show their age, coming from a time before the Anthrostate.

>Old lawn chairs by crumbled piles of bricks, dilapidated piles where wood hunting blinds used to be. Corpses of old cars that you've only seen in movies, transported here to the middle of nowhere as if by magic.

>Somewhere in the back of your mind, you find it beautiful, mysterious. But right now, you're too focused on the soreness that's already creeping up your legs, the headache that's forming, and how the heat is sticking to you, despite it being relatively dry.

>Your body moves mechanically, one foot in front of the other, your mind completely occupied by how much you want to rip your pants off, down all your water, and chow down on a nice burger.

>And how you can't do any of those things, and how instead you've got to keep walking for another 50-some miles.

>And how if you don't manage to do it in the next day or so, both you and this crazy bitch that sees you as dead weight are going to probably get your asses dragged into custody by some squad of hyped-up, horny State agents that will 'play' with you the whole ride back down to New Apple.

>It sends your thoughts back there, to everything you're leaving behind without even a courtesy call. Like --

>...well, to be honest, you're not sure how much you really are leaving behind.

>Your dad is gone, your relationship with your mother is strained at best. You've got no siblings, and your best friend -- now lover -- is hiking to her doom with you.

>There's people you'll miss from the range, but no one that you relied on, no one that relied on you. No one from the library either; the job was nice enough, but nothing you couldn't live without.

>Your personal library and museum, though, you are going to miss. It hurts to think about all of it, all the notes you've taken and the antiques you've saved. The books, the videos and recordings, even the songs that you've saved either physically or digitally from the State's scrubbery.

>And that doesn't include the miniature, ancient arsenal that's hidden in your cedar chest. That bit hurts to think about.

>You can still remember the field-stripping process for each and every one, all the little quirks that they each have, all the little repairs and adjustments you had to make in order to get them to run right.

>And now all of them are likely going to end up in a scrap pile, or at the very least getting the shit scraped out of them and their receivers scarred with an electropen.

>The thought elicits a shuddering sigh from you; you meant what you said when you told Talia you loved her, but you didn't quite fathom the meaning of leaving it all behind until now.

>You see the she-wolf glance at you in your periphery.

>"You good?" she asks.

>"Yeah. I'm fine."

>She grunts, but doesn't stop.

>"Doesn't sound like it."

>You let out another heavy exhale.

>"Just a headache, is all," you say. "A nice burger wouldn't be bad, either."

>Talia chuckles slightly, but you can tell it's a little forced.

>"We can stop if you want. Don't think we've got any burger MREs, but maybe beef jerky will do."

>You grunt, but don't stop. You can feel her amber eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore them.

>"Maybe we should stop," she says, "You look red. Could use some water."

>"No."

>She growls.

>"Yes."

>You don't stop, but she does. Talia lets you go on until she sees you -- more likely hears you -- having trouble climbing over a fallen log. You struggle to keep going as you hear her footfalls behind you, but raising your knee those last few inches up to your hip is suddenly a monumental task.

>"Anon, stop."

>You ignore her again. This time, she doesn't let it slide.

>"I said stop!"

>The she-wolf turns you around and gives you a shove. It's hardly more than a tap, but you end up sitting on the fallen log all the same. She puts her paws on your shoulders, keeping you there as she crouches down and gets her hear close to yours.

>"No lying, remember?" she says. Her voice is firm, but there's a hint of tenderness there.

>"What's wrong, Anon? You still hurting?"

>"No."

>The slight pressing of her claws tells you she doesn't believe you. You don't look up, instead staring blankly ahead at her chest while you catch your breath.

>"Bull-fucking-shit. What's wrong?"

>"My legs are sore, alright? That's it. Just turn me around so I can get over this thing, and let's --"

>"No."

>You look up, slightly surprised.

>"We're not moving until you tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is will irritate you more and more, and it'll slow us down."

>The 'even more' is implied, of course.

>You close your eyes and take a deeper breath, bracing yourself.

>"You really want to know?"

>She doesn't hesitate, nodding and giving you a positive hum.

>"I was thinking about everything we're leaving behind, and I'm kind of regretting it."

>You look up at her, forcing yourself to stay steady.

>"Lyons said we all but won. I could have kept all my guns, had a job -- hell, we might not have needed ones after a countersuit against Pat!"

>"Yeah," Talia says, tone firm as her eyes. "We could have stayed 'friends,' and wondered how long it'd be before Pat tried something again or before we'd be recommended for assignment."

>"Instead, we're miles-deep into the middle of nowhere," you say, "no car, no cabin, just what we can carry. We've got to cover -- what, 50 miles? -- in two days, preferably less. On foot, trailblazing, with our incentive being fucked in the ass or shot full of holes by State goons if we don't!"

>You swallow; your voice cracked.

>"Putting aside the fact that us not getting fucked and shot full of holes by the cops on the other side of the border isn't a guarantee, our chances of getting there are slim, because I'm dead fucking weight."

>"Anon, you're not --"

>"I am!" you shout. "I know you slow down to my pace! I heard you when you said 'covering our tracks will slow us even more!'"

>You take a breath, nearly as shuddering as the sigh you let out before.

>"I didn't bring enough food, I didn't bring enough bottles, all I brought was this stupid fucking shotgun that'll vaporize any -- any rabbits or squirrels we come across. And -- and now, I can't even cross this stupid fucking log!"

>Your throat is sore, but you keep your look at Talia firm. She's staring at you with apprehension, ears back and fur puffed.

>"You should've left me there. You should've gone on. Now we're both fucked."

>The she-wolf says nothing, just watching you, tail still. You let your gaze dip, down to your worn-out legs. Your backpack slips off slowly, falling on the other side of the log.

>When you move to do the same, Talia grabs your shoulder again. Her ears are pricked this time as she looks down at you.

>"Fuck off, Ta--"

>You're on your feet in an instant, the she-wolf wrapping her arms beneath yours and lifting you with ease. Your feet touch the forest floor as she draws you close, but just barely.

>"Shut up," she says as your face comes to rest in her flannel-covered cleavage. "I -- Anon!"

>You ignore her again, pushing at her ribs to try and escape her embrace. It doesn't work as crushes you against her. She leans back, her breasts pressing around your face and your feet coming off the ground.

>"Calm down or I swear to god I'll smother you with these!"

>Her rough voice vibrates around your head; she gives you a squeeze, showing you she means business as her claws dig into your hair. You hold out as long as you can, but shortly you're pushing and tapping at her breasts with desperation.

>"I let you come with because I love you, dumbass," she says, loosening her grip enough for you to take some scent-laden breaths. You're not sure what to think.

>Then she begins to stroke your hair, still keeping you firmly locked against her.

>"You couldn't have been prepared," she says, her voice soft. "You didn't know. You didn't know we'd be doing this. I didn't either."

>You sniffle -- because she squashed your nose, not any other reason.

>"Things might be tough, but you want to know something?"

>After a few moments of silence, she squeezes you again.

>"I said, 'you want to know something?'"

>You give her a muffled, mumbled reply. She accepts it.

>"When we... fucked earlier... When you were under me, making those noises -- it made me want to protect you. Care for you."

>Slowly, your hands go around her waist.

>"It made me realize what we said yesterday wasn't just hormones and bullshit."

>You let out a half-choked chuckle; she hums happily against you, her tail brushing against your hands as it wags.

>"We'll make it," she says. "I'll make sure."

>For the first time in the past 24 hours, you somewhat believe it.

>"Now, let's take a break and have food until you're not so cranky, okay?"

>You snort as she lets you pull away; there's a little mischief in the smile she gives you.

>"You... you made some pretty 'vulnerable' noises too."

>Her eyes widen, and the woods are filled with barking laughter.

>"You little fucker!" she laughs, grabbing your head and shoving it against her breast. You fight back again, though this time it's a token effort.

>She's got the flannel open and your face on a tit before you can even realize it, guiding you to her nipple before pressing you deep into her plush chest-pillow.

>"Now you can suck until you get me making those noises again, you little prick," she says.

>She pinches your ass even as you begin to latch on, making you yelp.

>"...And hurry up, dumbass. We've still got ground to cover."

>You give her fluffy butt a smack before grabbing onto her massive awoobie, feeling her shudder as you squeeze it.

>Slowly, her hold on your head slackens until she's just petting you, watching you bob against her, muffled moans already beginning to bubble up from you.

>"...Good boy, Anon."

Chapter 9: Rejuvination

>"This looks to be as shallow as it'll get."

>You let out a small groan, eyeing up the dark water.

>"Come on, Anon, all your stuff's gonna be fine. That bag is waterproof."

>"Not my gun..."

>Talia grunts, unzipping another waterproof bag.

>"Hold it above your head, then," she says, taking off her boots. "We still don't have any carry bags long enough for it."

>"At this rate, we might as well just stay naked."

>The she-wolf snorts, giving you a dirty look as her pants come off.

>"...Maybe we should, you horny little bastard."

>The small ponds and lakes have been getting in your way ever since you started for the day. They were what mad you stop last night, too.

>As the sun went down, the two of you just kept walking, hand in hand. But even with Talia's wolf eyes, she didn't want to risk navigating the water in the dark. Getting lost in the night was easy enough.

>Part of you thinks she did it so you'd finally rest. She was probably right to do so.

>The she-wolf didn't tell you how far off the border was, but you can't imagine it's far. You know this part of the border is dotted with little bodies of water, you saw it on the map.

>It’s scale just didn't do them justice.

>When you woke up, you realized the one you camped next to was huge. It was like most you’ve encountered, widest east to west, like someone clawed a giant gash in the earth.

>That didn’t make trying to cross it any easier, though. It was still a swim of 30 or 40 feet.

>For a while the two of you made your way around them, but by mid morning your nerves won out. You began crossing them, taking your chances with leeches and sharp stones.

>Talia's frequent glances behind the two of you helped matters none. She said it was just nothing every time you called her on it, but you knew damn well what day it is.

>It's Sunday -- the day of your trial. And as of a few hours ago, you've both missed your appointment.

>It's open season.

>You make sure to leave a good amount of air in the bag, wishing for the hundredth time today that you'd brought along wet-shoes. Even rubber sandals would be nice. The bottom of all the ponds you've come across has been pure silt, coating your feet to the ankle in a clayey slime.

>That, and even if you're gonna be staying... natural from here on out, you still need something tougher than your bare soles.

>Talia snickers as you start to wade in, slowing down ahead of you to watch.

>"Fuck off," you growl, watching the water slowly creep up your thighs.

>"I can see it shrinking," the she-wolf says, leering as you take a sharp breath.

>"F-fuck you..."

>You shudder when the water rises past your groin, the experience brisk as ever. The water isn't very cold, but something about wading in naked captures the feeling.

>"You pack any soap?" you ask. You're up to your chest now, and raise your 1901 high over your head.

>"No," the she-wolf says, hardly in up to her stomach. "That'd make us even easier to track."

>"You should have," you say. "On top of just smelling like you normally do, you're gonna reek of wet dog when we're done."

>Talia gives you a sarcastic chuckle; you yelp when she nearly splashes you.

>"Hey, watch the gun!"

>"You're not springtime-fresh either, Anon...”

>You say nothing as the water comes up to your neck. You curse softly before taking a deep breath and jumping off the spongy bottom, kicking forward.

>It's not easy, but you make it the 20 feet or so to the other side, able to stand again.

>Talia's ahead of you as usual, water already dripping off her tail.

>"And I thought you liked my stink, you bastard!" she says. She does a full-body shake when she reaches dry land, kicking her legs a little; you pull your gun back, even if it's plenty far away.

>"I said 'scent.' That's different."

>Her laughter echoes off the trees as you slosh onto shore.

>"And what would you know about 'scent?'" she asks, snorting as you carefully lay the 1901 down. "You're a human, you can hardly smell anything at all!"

>"Yeah, well, I can smell the difference between good stink and bad stink."

>You crouch down and unzip the bag, pulling out your shirt and boots. Dripping water betrays Talia’s presence, her paws impossibly quiet on the leafy bank.

>You sigh as the big, wet she-wolf crouches down over you, pressing in and squeezing you from behind with her thighs.

>"You want a little refresher?" she asks, pulling your head back against her.

>"Don't need one," you say, toweling off your feet. "I could smell you when you were standing over there."

>She lets out a soft growl, and gently digs her claws into your chest. You ignore her, and lean back against her to put on your boots.

>"What're you doing?" she asks. "I kinda like that naked idea you had."

>"I'm sure you do," you say, "but not all of us have rough paws."

>"I'll have you know they're very soft and sensitive."

>"Uh-huh."

>She backs off with a huff, letting you finish.

>"Rest of you is gonna stay naked, right?"

>"You're gonna be ahead of me anyway," you reply, toweling off your chest with the shirt. Don't want the 1901's strap getting wet.

>"And give you a free show?" she snorts. "I don't think so."

>You can hear her tail wagging as you put the shirt away, water droplets spraying out on the leaves.

>"But you leering at my ass is fine, right?"

>"I never said I'd be doing that," the she-wolf says, watching you get your pack on. You shift it into place with a bounce and tighten the straps; it's not your backside she's staring at...

>"Never said you wouldn't be, either."

>The she-wolf sighs as you set off, walking alongside you this time.

>"Fine. I guess we'll both have to go without eye candy..."

>You crest a rise, and find with some relief that there's still land ahead. More than once, the two of you waded out or walked around a bit of water, only to find that your destination was a peninsula.

>A few of the lakes were bad, mainly because they were big. Swimming across wouldn't be worth it with all the energy it'd take, and it likely wouldn't save much time. Talia hadn't brought an inflatable kayak or anything, since she wasn't intending on needing a boat before she'd gotten settled. That left going around as the only option.

>You're not sure how much distance that had cost you, and now, you need to know.

>"Talia, where are we?" you ask. "How far?"

>"We're close," the she-wolf grunts. "All the --"

>"--All the lakes and ponds mean we're close to the border," you finish. "I get it. But can't we get a little more precise? More accurate?"

>Talia stays quiet, not looking down at you.

>"Are we --"

>"I don't know."

>Her voice is firm, but her steps aren't steady.

>"I don't know if we're across yet, Anon. These maps ain't detailed enough for me to keep track, I -- I can't use the ponds for reference. There's thousands of them around here, and they're all practically the same."

>She sighs.

>"Some ain’t even big enough to show up."

>"What about the lakes?" you ask. "Those are big enough, right?"

>"Same problem," she says. "They'll show up, but without spending a whole lot of extra time, no way of telling which one we're walking around."

>You grunt. You suppose that's true. Even now, you're having a tough time measuring progress. The woods have stayed pretty consistent, all short undergrowth beneath taller trees, thankfully none of it very dense. There's more sections of a swampy ground, where felled trees rot among layers of leaves, but it looks a lot like yesterday aside from that.

>There’s less signs of human habitation, too. No more fallow fields or abandoned roads. The closest you've seen are ancient beer bottles alongside game trails, from some wayward hunter or hiker decades ago.

>It gives you some comfort.

>Talia picked this spot to cross the border specifically because it was remote, away from the more popular areas for kayakers and wilderness enthusiasts. Not seeing any portage marks or litter is a good sign.

>But you still find yourself unsatisfied.

>"What about GPS?"

>"We'd know where we are," Talia grunts, "but so would they. And their friends across the border would be much more likely to come after us if they've got a ping on our location."

>After a few moments, you see her stiffen. She grabs your shoulder and stops you, looking down with narrowed eyes.

>"Fuck, you killed your phone, right?" she asks. "They can use those, too."

>"Yeah, it ran out of juice before I found you. Was going to charge it back up, but then... you know."

>"Yeah," the she-wolf sighs, starting off again, "I know."

>You follow, only sneaking one glance down at her bare, white, full moon. She cocks her head back at you after a little bit, but it's not about her ass.

>"You left it there, right?"

>"No? It's in my pack."

>Talia stiffens again, stopping and turning to you.

>"Why the hell not?"

>"It's dead, Talia, it --"

>"It's dead weight," she corrects, "and the instant you power it on, they'll have a new fix on us. There's no point in keeping it."

>You look up at her, her ears slightly pulled back.

>"Dropping it here would only confirm that we came through," you say. "SIM card isn't active, so we're fine. We can take it out when we get wherever we're going."

>She stares at you for a little bit, before continuing on with a quiet grunt. You're content to keep things that way, letting the forest ambiance fill your ears.

>The wind blows gently through the leaves, carrying the sounds of far-off birds and the droning of insects and frogs. Your footfalls on the soft ground are muted, while Talia's are silent.

>The sun is out again today; you'd be worried about getting burned if you weren't under the canopy most of the time.

>You wonder how much protection the trees will give come winter. The snow has been coming later each year, but the cold is always reliable. There's still a few months before the ground freezes, but you worry anyway. You don't know how long it'll take the two of you to find somewhere to settle.

>In fact, you don't know what the plan is at all when you succeed.

>If you succeed.

>"So, you have fur," you say, "but how am I supposed to survive the winter?"

>"There are towns," Talia replies, "Tiny ones. We'll get you something warm."

>"With what money?"

>"What we've got," she says, "and what we earn. If what I brought to get us started ain't enough, we... we'll figure something out.

>There's something in the tone of her voice. You recognize it, from when she was talking about progress towards the border.

>Again, you're screwing up plans.

>But now doesn't seem like the time to make a scene of it. Not when the two of you are so close.

>You can worry about how you'll survive in NSE when you actually get there.

>You keep quiet through the middle of the day -- about that, at least.

>There's much cursing and groaning from the both of you each time a body of water gets in your way. They're mostly smaller now, so skirting around them is easy, but it's still time lost.

>Your thoughts are on that now. On the unknown time limit the two of you have.

>Talia tries to keep you distracted, delighted that you've decided to stay nude. And admittedly, it works.

>You play along, doing your best to return all her jabs and teasing remarks.

>"Albino" is met with "mangy cur," "beanpole" is met with "furball."

>Her overbearing worry about you getting scraped and scratched by stray branches is met with the word "vulnerable."

>The she-wolf's ears pull back at that one, and she slugs you good.

>"I might keep you down there for good next time..." she mutters; you clench your fists, but it's too late.

>You can see her glancing down at you with a smug smirk, watching your pace slow slightly as your member bounces in front of you.

>"My, Anon," she says, "I didn't know you packed a dowsing rod!"

>"Shut up."

>"Or wait, is that supposed to be a sundial?"

>"Fuck off..."

>Talia shifts a bit closer, draping an arm across your shoulders. Her hips rub against you with each stride.

>"You know, it's not nice to tease like that, Anon," she says, her tail wagging and brushing your back. You push at her with an angry grunt, but she ignores you.

>She gives a throaty chuckle when you stiffen -- your whole body, now -- as her claws dig into your bare chest.

>"If we weren't in a hurry," she says, voice huskier than usual, "I might just punish you for it..."

>You can feel the vibrations of her hum as she pulls you closer against her. She laughs at your groan, but yelps when you give her a smack on the ass.

>The meaty sound echos off the trees, and you're laughing before she even pushes you away.

>"A-non!" she gasps, giving you an open-mouthed smile.

>"How's that for teasing?"

>The she-wolf growls at you, though her tail is wagging wildly. She turns to the south, her thumbs in the straps of her pack.

>You hear soft whines, her ears twitching; she's hesitant.

>"Talia, no," you say. She turns back to you, and bares her teeth in an almost evil grin.

>"Talia, yes," she growls, letting the bag fall.

>Ahh, shit.

>"Talia, now is not the time," you say, though you ditch your bag. "I'm not gonna fuck you until we're over the border."

>She stalks forward slowly, and cocks her head with a chuckle.

>"Who said you'd be doing the fucking?"

>You turn and bolt.

>"Come on, Anon," she yells, "let's see you make those noises again!"

>You run, your feet kicking up dirt and leaves. You can't feel the stones and twigs beneath them, or the scrape of the undergrowth and branches.

>There's just the wind on your skin, what's in front of you, and the sounds of the horny she-beast behind you.

>"Where are you running?" she asks, those thudding footfalls getting closer. "It's just you and me out here, dumbass!"

>"And the State agents!" you yell back. "Talia, they'll find us!"

>"Then stop running and let's make it quick!"

>You push harder, scrambling over the leaves.

>"Actually, keep running -- you didn't last very long last time anyway!"

>You don't retort, saving your breath. You try juking around a tree, only to sail through the air when a root trips you up. You briefly see the she-wolf careen off the trunk before you're rolling in the leaves and dirt.

>Adrenaline can't block those scrapes and bruises now.

>Before you can get your legs under you, a furry mass pounces heavily on top of you. You get maybe two hits in before her claws find your wrists and grind them into the dirt beside your head.

>Talia huffs as she shifts down your body, pulling her chest off your face. You gasp, partially for air and partially because she just dropped her weight on your hips.

>She looks down at you, panting for a moment before she breaks into that evil smile again.

>"Try -- and stop me," she says, letting go of your wrists.

>Then she's on your lips, and her hands are behind your head and neck.

>The she-wolf cocks her head sideways and forces your lips apart, sliding her tongue in on yours. She ignores your hands on her shoulders and ribs, biting gently at your lips.

>Her tongue fills your mouth with each lap she takes, her warm breath flowing past it. You keep trying to push at her, groaning as you feel her nails dig in and hold your head in place.

>When you feel her teeth scraping further and further up your cheeks, you try with renewed vigor.

>The side of her lupine lips folds over your nose as she pushes you deeper into her mouth, giving you a kiss only her kind can. You grab at her fur now, but she doesn't notice, her upper half glued to yours.

>When her tongue begins to flick at the back of your throat, you feel your toes curl.

>The she-wolf sets her jaw and begins to lap at the back of your mouth, nearly choking you. Your moans come in full force now, and you slap at her in a panic.

>She squeezes her mouth over your face one last time before drawing back, teeth scraping over your cheeks. The pop of her tongue leaving your mouth is masked by your gasps. They barely stop when she pinches your nose closed with her teeth, growling playfully.

>"Give up?" she asks when you can speak again, a hand petting your hair.

>"Yeh... yeah..."

>Talia hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead before shifting around on top of you.

>It takes you a second to realize she's slid herself between your legs, spreading them apart. You groan, feeling her excitement against your groin.

>"I thought... we were... done..." you pant. She pulls close, sliding your legs in the air.

>"Oh no," she purrs, reaching down and grabbing your dick. "I said I'd punish you. Now get ready to --"

>The she-wolf freezes mid-breath.

>Her ears prick, swiveling as she looks off to the side. She pulls off of you after a second and stands tall, staring off into the woods.

>"Talia --"

>She doesn't spare you a word, just holding up a digit. Her tail is low, tensed.

>When you hold your breath, you can hear it.

>A new, different drone, lower than the insects. Engines, punctuated by rotors.

>Oh, fuck.

>"Stay here," Talia says before she starts to run.

>"Talia --"

>"Stay here!" she barks.

>She doesn't elaborate. She hardly hesitates, disappearing in the trees. That adrenaline is back, but you don't think you could catch up.

>Your hands twitch, the sound of the chopper looming large in your mind. You gasp, not realizing you were holding your breath.

>Fuck, get a grip.

>Get a grip.

>Get a grip.

>You think back to the various historical training manuals you've skimmed, all the ones that you saved copies of.

>First thing to do is find cover or concealment from the threat.

>The forest canopy here provides some, but you're still fucked if they have any sensors -- which they might.

>The leaves also won't mean shit if they send someone in on the ground -- which they also might.

>You look around, trying to find something, anything that’ll make for better cover. The terrain isn't severe enough for protective hollows, the undergrowth is too sparse, and the trees aren't thick enough.

>"Fuck!"

>You slam the nearest one, starting to lose your cool. Then you realize it made a cracking noise.

>You look at it closer; the roots are jutting up slightly on one side, the whole tree leaning just a little.

>It's the one that Talia bounced off of earlier.

>You get down and start clawing at the dirt, snapping more roots. The earth is cold and spongy, more than a little damp. You don't know if it's a low spot or if it's something with the tree, but you don't care.

>You haven't made much progress when you hear the clattering of gear. Talia skids to a stop behind you, dropping the packs and guns.

>"What’re you doing?"

>"Making a hole," you say, not stopping. "Tree has exposed roots, and I don't see any other kinda cover."

>She grunts, then shoves you aside.

>"Go hide our shit," she says, digging like a dog. "And get some ground cover."

>You grab the bags and go while she continues to spray dirt. The waterproof packs aren't exactly small, and the camo pattern they've got is only going to work far away. You wander with an aimless urgency, trying to find something to use.

>Then it hits you.

>You dash towards the nearest opening in the trees, finding another blasted lake. You ditch the packs on shore, and scrounge around for a branch.

>The droning is echoing in the open space of the lake; you force yourself to look down and focus. The sun's gaze on your back feels extra harsh.

>You return to the bags when you have a good, large branch, and thread it through the straps. The spongy bottom of the lake squishes between your toes as you wade out with them, looking down.

>For once, the water being murky might be a benefit.

>You take a deep breath and go under. The gear is heavy enough that it'll sink, but the branch is not. You fumble blindly until it's trapped, then go up to check your handwork.

>The branch sticks out from the water just barely. You're close enough to the bank that it'll pass for a sunken log on the ground, and the murky water will disguise it from the air.

>You hope, at least.

>On the way back to the tree, you yank up some viney-looking ground cover, gathering it in your arms until you can hardly see. You nearly fall a few times before you make it back.

>The she-wolf is halfway under the tree now, the dirt mounded off her sides. You curse quietly, dumping the ground cover and pushing the dirt out of her way.

>She doesn't thank you, but she doesn't get the chance. You're already running back for more ground cover -- this isn't going to look pretty, and you'll need all you can get.

>The sound of motors and rotors is definitely louder now.

>As you tear up more camouflage, you begin to realize that it's fairly obvious that you've done so.

>You curse, looking at the bare ground and torn stems. You drop the next load of camouflage off by Talia, clear out more dirt, and run back to the patch of ground cover.

>As you kick leaves and soil over the mangled vegetation, you can't help but think of rotorwash.

>It takes far too long to make the patch of ground match the rest of the forest floor, but there's nothing else for it. Disguising one spot doesn't mean shit if you take all the leaves and detritus out from another.

>When you arrive back at the tree, you face a similar problem. Backdirt is everywhere on the top layer of leaves. You get to spreading it, already looking for good sources of dead leaves to throw on top.

>As you scatter the dirt, the individual thumps of the helicopter blades become distinct.

>But there is a glimmer of hope.

>The hole Talia has made is substantial, her heavy breathing muted by the earth around her.

>It takes you a moment to realize you're panting as well.

>You push though, cleaning the she-wolf's excavation site and tamping it down. Root fragments now stab your feet instead of twigs.

>You only notice the she-wolf going in by the change in sound. The dirt she flings doesn't go as far, landing quietly on the undergrowth you piled close by.

>"Stop trashing the dirt," she says, "we'll need it now!"

>She's right. The slope down into the ghetto bunker is steep, but there's still a lot of space, more than you need or like.

>"Alright, the fuck do we do now?"

>"Backfill, backfill!" she says, motioning towards herself.

>You hesitate a second, feeling like you're about to bury her alive. Then you get over it and start shoving dirt down for her to try and pack solid.

>You're gonna get buried down there with her.

>The two of you don't have time to make a solid wall, but it's strong enough that it isn't collapsing in on you. She holds it still anyway as you drag the tangle of undergrowth over everything, fluffing out the edges as you hear the chopper's roar steady.

>You nearly climb in before you remember the last detail.

>The she-wolf lets out a slight grunt when you slide her gun down to her; it takes her a second to get ready for yours.

>You're fighting the muzzle of the 1901 as you slip beneath the tree, its awkward length accentuated. As you settle, you find yourself pressed up against the damp earthen walls, the warm limbs of your partner, and the cold gunmetal between you.

>You try not to think about all the shit that's on it now, and pull at the ground cover, Talia doing the same.

>You shift the shotgun up, propping the barrel as best you can on the ledge. Your angle is shit, but it's better than nothing.

>Talia pants beside you, her breaths warming the space a little. You look over at her in the dim, double-filtered light; her back is hunched over again, like when she took her sisters' car earlier in the week, on --

>...Oh, God, that was on Monday...

>"Get that barrel back," she whispers, trying to control her breaths. "They'll see it."

>"There's no room."

>"You've got a shitty angle."

>"Better than no angle."

>The she-wolf doesn't reply. Instead, she snakes her arm beneath yours, grabbing your left hand in her right.

>She twines her fingers with yours and squeezes.

>Hard.

>You lean into her a little, steadying your breaths. The sounds of the chopper are muted outside, but you know it's close. You don't think it's moving anymore, which means there's boots on the ground.

>You strain your ears, your breathing shallow.

>The two of you wait for a long, long time.

>You can feel the dirt and sweat creep into your various cuts and scrapes, Talia's fur irritating some scratch on your side. You don't look down, but you think one of her claws is fucked up. It feels different from the rest on the back of your hand.

>But you ignore it all, and focus on the sounds.

>Your breaths.

>Hers.

>Anything outside.

>Eventually you hear them, a few minutes after you felt Talia really tense up.

>Uneven footfalls, the subtle plastic sound of loose gear.

>Then radio noise, the sounds of check-ins.

>When their voices become clear, you're craning your neck up, trying to catch anything through the undergrowth-filled slit.

>"Delta, report."

>"Still just a faint scent, nothing solid," you hear a deep, female voice say. "All muddied up by others. You got the same, Jack?"

>There's a grunt from somewhere else.

>"Yeah, he's got the same."

>Your thumb rests on the 1901's hammer. You still can't see anything, but you can visualize them. Chunky helmets with earholes, bulky vests and rifles. All in a matte black.

>You see a hint of it as one of them passes near the tree, sniffing the air.

>They don't need to hide, not like the two of you do.

>"All units stand by," you hear from the radio; you and Talia freeze, probably just as stiff as the two out there.

>"Hold positions. Birch, we've got bureaus on the line. Connecting you to them now."

>You and Talia stiffen. The two jackboots groan, and you hear their safeties go on.

>Your thumb stays on the hammer as they sling their guns away, polymer and steel rubbing on polyester.

>"Fucking hell," one of them mutters. "Why'd they send us up here anyway? They haven't been here yet. Hell, there hasn't even been a team down to the last known location."

>"Strings," the other says. "Why do you think there's an ATF agent out here with us?"

>Your blood runs cold.

>"It's her case, isn't it?"

>"Yes, but most ATF cases don't get chopper support, especially if it's just for two no-shows. She knows someone, Jack."

>"Why'd she wait until now, then? Targets went dark like a day or two ago, right?"

>Talia squeezes your hand tight; you squeeze her back.

>"My money? Courts wouldn't let her, not until the two of them were confirmed to be no-shows. That's probably why she's so pissed."

>"She does seem like a bitch."

>You somehow smile.

>That quickly changes as a set of idle footfalls come closer and closer.

>They stop, and you hear the ruffle of fabric, and then a zipper.

>Then the sound of liquid spattering.

>"Jesus, Jack!" the female says, "Right in front of me?"

>The smell is strong, and you see it begin to drip in.

>"Jealous?"

>Then you feel it on your hand.

>The one on the gun.

>Somehow the State soldier doesn't hear you click the hammer back, his stream too loud.

>But Talia does.

>Her claws dig in, and you slide your eyes over to her. The soldier blocks most of the feeble light, but what little comes in shines on her eyes.

>They're fierce.

>You keep your hand on the gun, but don't touch the trigger.

>The jackboot above you sighs, his stream petering out. You hear his gear shuffle and clink as he shakes; somehow, the weak wall doesn't collapse.

>You can feel his footsteps as he walks off, his partner giving him some flak.

>You're too busy simultaneously seething and being relieved to pay much attention.

>Talia's grip on your hand lessens slightly; you give it a squeeze, making her look at you.

>Her eyes are softer now. Almost apologetic.

>She looks away, and begins to stroke your arm gently, quietly.

>"Alright, we're pulling out," the voice on the radio says. "Navigation overshot the border for the LZ. Do a quick search of your zone and get back. If you see Agent Birch, do --"

>"--Stay here!"

>Even through the distortion of the radio, you recognize the voice. There's no mistaking it.

>"We need to comb the area, I can smell them! They're here, and we --"

>There's a squawking noise, and the soldiers grunt.

>"Sorry about that. If you see Agent Birch, do not engage. Physically or otherwise. If she wants to cause an interSector incident, she'll do it without us."

>One of the soldiers chuckles, and the other groans.

>"Crazy bitch..."

>You don't feel like you can breathe until you can't hear their gear anymore.

>You don't feel like you can move until the chopper's roar starts getting faint.

>You don't feel Talia next to you until after it's gone.

>When you do, it's because she shudders.

>You see her eyes are wet. She looks at you, and sniffs. It still sounds strange, her nose still swollen.

>"Let's go," she says, her voice only shaking a little.

>You groan as you climb out, your joints stiff. The undergrowth tries to cling to you as you emerge, naked and covered in dirt.

>Your shotgun, similarly caked, hangs by your side as you reach down and pull up the she-wolf's SKS. You clear away the natural netting for her as she slips out.

>The two of you stretch, feeling a few cracks, and then stand like that in the sunlight, staring at each other.

>Her fur is a few shades more brown, her mane a mess filled with bits of root.

>Her claws are dull, some are chipped.

>And she stinks worse than ever.

>You doubt you’re much better.

>The two of you hug anyway, squeezing each other hard as you can manage with one arm.

>You feel her muzzle fold over the back your head, pulling you just a little bit tighter to her chest.

>She shudders again, just once.

>You do too.

>"Where's the gear?" she asks, when the two of you finally pull apart.

>"That way, in a lake. I'll show you."

>"Good," the she-wolf says, following as you lead the way. "You could do with a bath."

>You sigh, going to sling your gun as she chuckles.

>You catch yourself before you do, and thumb the hammer back down.

>You're glad you did.

>You could've had a Negligent Dis --

>Talia grabs you from behind, covering your mouth and yanking you off to the side. You grab at her her hand, but she shushes you as she drags you into a bush.

>"Listen."

>You hold your breath, but you don't hear anything. The she-wolf points, and you slowly begin to hear it.

>Oddly-patterned footsteps, leaves and branches being disturbed. Then comes the breathing, heavy and inconsistent.

>You pull the hammer back, and both of you settle into a crouch. You try to see through the leaves, but it's too dense.

>The long barrel gets in your way again; readying the shotgun without shaking the branches is slow. By the time you do it, you can see her.

>Patricia is hunched over, not quite crawling along the ground some 50 yards away. She's sniffing, a pistol held high as she shuffles along, her breaths ragged.

>You freeze when she bolts upright.

>"I know you two are here!" she yells, her voice echoing among the trees. "I know what you smell like! Come out, and take what's coming!"

>You shift your grip, feeling your fingers brush the lever. You see Talia has her SKS ready as well, grimy as she is.

>She presses her snout to your ear, her whisper still faint.

>"Lay down, and stay."

>You look up at her; the she-wolf's features are firm.

>Slowly, you lie down in the bush, careful about noise. Being naked means the gun is your biggest worry.

>You jolt as there's a flurry of gunshots, then laughter.

>"Very clever!" the shepherdess shouts. "Nice spider-hole!"

>You realize that Talia is gone. You continue laying down.

>"Fucking idiots," Patricia laughs, quieter now. "They were right on top of you two, weren't they?"

>You don't jump as much when Talia fires. You know it's her, the report of the SKS much louder than whatever Pat is packing.

>You don't catch the hit, but you focus on the shepherdess as Talia fires again.

>Splinters fly this time, and Patricia scrambles behind a tree. You swear as she returns fire from the other side, her shots fast. She probably has extra mags, she can afford to be zealous.

>Not like you and Talia.

>"6," you whisper to yourself, "8 for Talia."

>She waits for the echos to stop before speaking again.

>"Are you naked?"

>That throws you for a loop.

>"Yeah," you hear Talia call, somewhere to your right. "What's it matter? You're still gonna shoot me."

>"I wasn't until you did it first!"

>You stifle a growl; you need to get a better angle. You eye up the terrain to your left, trying to find something suitable.

>"Bullshit!" Talia yells. "The fuck you call filling that spider-hole full of lead, then?"

>"Pre-emptive strike," the shepherdess says.

>You slowly roll out from the bush, careful as you raise yourself up.

>"And from what you just did, it appears I was completely justified in doing so."

>"You ain't justified to do nothing! This is Sector NSE, Officer Bitch! You don't work here!"

>Breathe through your mouth. Focus.

>"It is my duty as an officer of the law to see my cases through. I wouldn't be here if you two hadn't run, and just come clean!"

>Slight rise, should be more behind. You wish you had brought a boltgun.

>"...Speaking of," the shepherdess says, "where is the little humie?"

>You freeze; she's still out of sight, but you swear you feel her gaze.

>"Gone."

>"Bullshit," Patricia says as you continue. "I know he's out here. I tracked his phone."

>You enter the shallow valley, trying to ignore your dick scraping along the forest floor.

>"Had to estimate from where it died," the shepherdess continues, "but I got pretty damn close, didn't I?"

>"You want the truth?" you hear Talia say, just as you peek over the rise.

>You see a brown, fluffy tail poking from behind a tree, stock-still.

>"He's probably a mile ahead by now."

>Slowly, you pull the shotgun up as Talia continues her lie.

>"I sent him ahead as soon as those soldiers of yours pulled out. I knew you wouldn't, Patricia. Because you're obsessed, thinking that he and I aren't a thing."

>You pull the stock in, getting your cheekweld. 30 yards with a beadsight.

>No pressure.

>"You wanna know something, Patricia?" the she-wolf yells as you line up your shot. The slug should go through that wood.

>"Anon and I fucked!"

>You freeze, the sight on target.

>"He and I fucked all night long! Last night, and the one before that!"

>You notice the shepherdess' tail droop.

>"We were fucking before you got here, in fact!"

>"Christ, Talia," you mutter. She's taking far too much pleasure in this.

>"It is real! It was real! It'll continue to be --"

>The 10 gauge kicks harder than you remember, the tree cracking almost as loud as your shot.

>You're up to a knee in half a second, racking the lever. There's a blur of black and blue and you chase it with that brass bead, laying down more lead.

>You sit for a second when she's gone, counting your shots. Three left. Probably.

>Talia fired off some and you know Patricia did too. But you're not sure how many.

>You hesitate before you move, trying to hear past the ringing in your ears. You can't see anything and the woods seem quiet.

>You run out to her piece of cover, low and fast, scanning where you thought she went. Your foot brushes something soft when you crouch down.

>"Fuck.." you breathe.

>It's her tail.

>You shot it off.

>You grit your teeth, and think.

>Bloodtrail. There's gotta be a bloodtrail.

>You look, soon spotting dark red amongst the brown. You almost go after it, but then remember the shit they told you in hunter's safety: "Check your surroundings."

>"Talia!" you yell. "Talia, you see her?"

>"No!" the she-wolf says after a moment. "Can you?"

>"No! Come to me! I'll cover you!"

>You stand tall, scanning the forest between you and her. There's only so many places the shepherdess could hide, only so many trees she could use.

>You almost shoot Talia as she comes rushing towards you -- then you snap the shotgun to the left, firing off a shot.

>"Two," you hiss, racking the lever. No red mist, no scream of pain.

>"Fuck," Talia hisses, her ears laid flat. "Shit's loud."

>She pulls you behind the tree, peeking past it with her head laid flat.

>"How many rounds you got?"

>"Two," you say. "You?"

>"Four."

>You sigh.

>"Gotta make 'em count," you mutter, before tapping at her.

>"Look down. Bloodtrail."

>Talia's eyes widen a little when she sees the tail, but she says nothing.

>"You track, and I'll give you overwatch."

>"Why do I have to keep my head down?" she whispers, her ears flattening again.

>"Because you're the wolf," you say.

>"My nose is still fucked up!" she hisses. You put your hand on her shoulder.

>"You'll be fine," you say. "Don't worry -- I'll cover you."

>She stares down at you, then gets down on a knee and starts. You look ahead, scanning the forest again.

>It's so quiet.

>So damn quiet.

>The air is nearly still, just a gentle breeze from the left.

>The blood is sticky on your feet. More than just her tail got hit.

>You realize you can smell it.

>You can smell her.

>You look to the left, catching the brass of her badge.

>You fire as Patricia does, Talia emptying her mag before you've even racked the lever.

>The shepherdess falls back into the brush 10 yards away.

>The only thing you can hear is your heart as you stand there, staring at her over the bead. You see blood on your left arm, and touch your face.

>The open graze stings.

>"Talia?" you ask.

>"...Clean," she says.

>She deploys the SKS's bayonet after a second, looking up at you. You nod, and the two of you advance.

>Halfway there, you realize she's still alive, her breathing strained. But she's not moving, that's for damn sure.

>And her gun is a few yards away from her.

>"Should've left us alone, Pat."

>You lower your gun then, and realize there's a hole in your left leg.

>"Fuck," you say, as Talia's nose twitches.

>"Shit," is all she says, looking at your leg. "Shit. Shit!"

>"Ha-h," Patricia coughs. "Got -- you, perp..."

>You're staring down at the crimson: it's on the outer side. Not femoral.

>But you still don't like the odds.

>Talia rushes forward and looms over the shepherdess; you can hear the SKS creak in her grip.

>Patricia doesn't look good. There's big tears in her ballistic vest from the 7.62; each one probably felt like a sledgehammer.

>The 10 gauge slug, though, didn't care. It ripped right through her right shoulder, leaving a red, jagged mess.

>You want to vomit.

>"Don't," you say, as Talia raises her rifle like a spear. "Leave it."

>"Why?" she growls, staring down at the shepherdess.

>"Prove a point," you say, then groan. "Get her medical pouch."

>Talia doesn't hesitate, stabbing the rifle next to Pat's head. The shepherdess doesn't try to stop her as she rifles through the belt, finding a trauma kit.

>You sit back on your ass, a little ways away from the fallen agent, and lift your leg with a cry; Talia's there in an instant, supporting it and tearing through the little plastic case.

>You shift your grip on the 1901, taking your finger off the trigger. The pain hasn't come yet, but you know it will soon.

>You stare up at the canopy, gripping the shotgun tight. Talia's hands shake as she wipes your leg, the case rattling whenever she reaches for another alcohol patch.

>You grit your teeth as it seeps in, lighting up the entire side of your leg. Talia growls, and you hear more paper tearing.

>She pinches your mouth open and pushes something inside, drawing her fingers back when you splutter on them. You swallow the pills, and she goes back to your leg.

>"Still awake," you say -- but you don't look down at her.

>Talia doesn't say anything back. She clamps down on your leg, squeezing your thigh like it's nothing.

>Her hand feels like it's hot iron.

>You yell, but she doesn't stop.

>You hear her whine.

>"I'm sorry," she says when you're out of breath.

>It melts your heart.

>The gauze pads stick to you when she switches them, but it hurts less now. You feel her wrapping something around your leg, too loose to be a tourniquet.

>Talia hovers over you when she's finished, her amber eyes a little wet.

>"Anon?"

>"I'm here," you say.

>"What day is it?"

>"Sunday?"

>Her eyes dart between yours for a moment before she kisses you.

>Hard at first, but then more gently when you moan.

>You close your eyes, letting her lap at you.

>Slowly, you let go of the gun, and stroke her fur.

>"You'll be alright," she says, finally pulling back. "We'll take our time."

>"Okay," you say. "Now let's --"

>"Stay down, dumbass," the she-wolf scolds. Your leg says the same.

>"I'll carry you."

>You flop back.

>You can live with that.

>Patricia chokes, getting your attention -- and Talia's. She's looking at the two of you, or it's easier for her to breathe that way.

>The she-wolf stands, looking down at you, then the shepherdess.

>"Leave her," you say. "Like she should have."

>Talia stares at you, her fists clenching.

>Then she shakes her head, and crouches back down to you.

>"Wait," Pat gasps. "Left-- pouch."

>Talia hesitates, but goes through the agent's belt. She lets out a soft grunt when she finds a small case.

>"Wanted-- to shoot-- him with it," Pat wheezes, watching Talia open up the Kolibri's case. "Make the-- two of you-- match."

>"But-- now-- I should say--"

>"I'm sorry."

>You don't believe your ears.

>You stare over at the agent, watching her chest struggle to heave. Talia does too, for a moment, then hands you the case.

>She picks up the shepherdess' discarded handgun, dropping it right below the her destroyed shoulder. Then she puts the medical box there, too.

>"Goodbye, Officer Birch," the she-wolf says, looking down at the shepherdess.

>She slings the SKS across her chest and crouches down, scooping you up bridal style, careful about your leg.

>She wasn't lying.

>Those pawpads are soft.

>Talia looks down at the shepherdess again when you're settled in her arms; Patricia's eyes are scrunched closed.

>"And good luck."

>Talia carries you away, off towards the lake.

>You sigh, relaxing into her arms.

>"I love you," you say.

>Her claws dig in gently when she responds in kind.

>You go to decock the 1901, the massive gun getting heavy in your hand.

>You hear a click.

>You look down; the hammer fell.

>Huh.

>You guess you miscounted.

>Otherwise, you'd have just had a Negligent Discharge.

Epilogue

>The log's bark splinters with a loud crack, echoing around the clearing.

>You grunt, poking at the shrapnel with your saw. It still had enough bend in it for the bark to splinter, leaving a jagged edge on one side of your cut.

>It shouldn't matter too much, but you still wanted to avoid it. Talia probably knows you're up, but you don't want to worry her.

>You pull your coat tight, shivering a little as you move to the next part of the huge tree limb. It's one of the many you took down in making this little clearing, the others all limbed up and behind the cabin.

>You eye up the length you want, and score the wood lightly before really starting the cut. After you've got a rhythm, you look off at the forest.

>It's fall, but it's still beautiful.

>There's more types of trees here than you'd imagined. Oaks, birches, and maples all stand together. Around half have lost their leaves, and the rest have vibrant manes of orange and red.

>Firs and other evergreens dot the treeline with shades of green, as do a few bushes.

>It hasn't snowed yet, but you imagine it will soon. And then the colors will stand out even more.

>You're a little worried about getting to town when that time comes. The trek through the forest already takes a decent amount of time on foot, and having to shove through drifts will only make it take longer.

>You should see about trying to make yourself some snowshoes, and a sled. Carrying kills from the field or any larger purchase from the general store would be a pain in the ass without one.

>That, and you'll need something to entertain the kid with.

>Or kids. You're not sure yet.

>The State comes to mind, as it always does when you think about the future. For once, though, you're not consumed with fear.

>You and Talia have been here for a few months now. No one has come looking, and the folks in Mine-River are quiet, and helpful.

>They fixed your leg up when you first arrived -- didn't ask too many questions, either.

>Talia had done a good job.

>They were happy to exchange general labor for supplies, and to pay off what your leg used. They even let you borrow a phone, so you could leave a message for your folks back down in WCS.

>Talia's said they'd visit at some point -- making it clear it was for the general store and the tiny village's history, not anything else.

>You hope it was enough to keep any State monitors off the trail.

>The goal now is to prepare everything for spring. Aside from the Grilliz's impending arrival, you've got seeds that need planting, animal enclosures that need building.

>That's what you're doing right now, sawing the log. Pretty soon it’s going to be a post. To keep in goats, chickens, or pigs, you don't know.

>But you know that when the winter passes, you want to be ready.

>The she-wolf yawns as she emerges from the cabin, the sound swallowed by the early morning air.

>"What're ya doing?" Talia asks, ambling up beside you.

>"Making a post. Want to try and get a jump on those enclosures before the ground completely freezes."

>She hums, watching you cut through the last inch or two. You roll the log a little this time, and the bark splinters are a lot smaller.

>You stand and stretch, shivering a little as your clothing shifts and the cold seeps in.

>You’re gonna completely freeze out here," she says, holding you from behind. "Why are you starting so early?"

>"Because I just did," you sigh, leaning back into her. The she-wolf's bust is soft on the back of your head, and you run your hands up her flannel covered arms.

>Talia noses at your hair, sniffing and pecking.

>"We've got time, Anon," she says after a bit. "It's gonna be at least five months before we can start planting."

>You grunt. That makes it even worse.

>"What are you worried about?"

>"Nothing," you say. "I just wanted to get a jump on things."

>"Anon..."

>You sigh, letting her squeeze it out of you.

>Literally.

>"Five months is a long time to work in the cold," you say. "And it'll be even colder up here than it was down in New Apple."

>The she-wolf hums, letting you go.

>"We'll be fine," she says, grabbing your hand. "I'll show you."

>You roll your eyes and groan as she pulls you back towards the cabin.

>"Fuck off," you say, her bare, fluffy butt a bright white in the morning light. "Put on some pants, woman."

>She snarls playfully, yanking you a little.

>"Winter coat's coming in," she says, "I get too warm if I do. Come on, I'll show you."

>You huff, letting her pull you in.

>"Am I supposed to get naked too?" you ask as she closes the door, and pulls aside the sheets on the small bed.

>She snorts in response, her flannel already flying off as she lays down.

>"What do you think, dumbass?"

>You sigh, getting to work. Talia's tail whaps against the mattress as she lays on her side, watching you eagerly.

>It's going to be a long, long winter.

>You’re looking forward to spring.