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THE ZEEVAN CONFLICT

by Rex Fenris

Chapter 1: Shelter from the Storm

Vahn stopped for a moment to rest, leaning up against a nearby tree. The leaves overhead offered at least a modicum of protection from the torrential downpour which he had been trudging through for the better part of the evening. The rain had begun falling just before sunset. Having ignored his better judgment and the advice of the last tavern keeper he had spoken to, Vahn now found himself lost on a small, winding road in the middle of a forest somewhere far from home.

A sharp gust of wind hissed through the trees, blowing towards him. He shivered and pulled his heavy wool cloak tightly around his body. His fur was already drenched, but the heavy garment did offer some protection from the frigid wind.

The storm showed no sign of letting up. The thought of following the small road back to the last inn he passed crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. By now it was at least a four hour walk from where he was, and he needed to find shelter. The coyote's fur and clothing could no longer stave off the cold; he could already feel it seeping through his body.

He pulled his pack higher up onto his shoulders, pushed off of the tree, and kept moving forward. The road had to end somewhere. He hoped he would be able to find a small village, or a farm, or even just a house. Anything.

It was an hour later when the coyote really started to worry. The storm had grown worse, the wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped substantially. To make matters worse, the road he was on was now little more than a horse trail snaking through the dense trees. He shivered continuously and his legs burned with exhaustion.

This was not like him. He knew better. He was so eager to make it to the capital-still several weeks away-that he had thrown all caution to the wind and set out on his own when he should have stopped at the last village. He had even smelled the storm coming on the wind! He silently cursed himself for his stupidity.

Vahn let his heavy pack slip from his shoulders and found another tree to lean up against. He squatted down and hugged his knees, trying to keep himself warm. His eyes struggled to search through the darkness around him for a cave, a fallen tree, anything to give him some shelter. Nothing.

He looked overhead. The tree he was resting against was large, and its leaves held the rain at bay better than most. Maybe he could rest here for a while. He laid his head down on his knees. He was so exhausted, even a few minutes of sleep would be nice...

With a violent shiver the coyote's head shot up. No. If he fell asleep here in the freezing rain he might not ever wake up. He was determined to press forward, just a little further. He was certain he would find something. Simply pulling himself up to his feet was a monumental task. It required all of his strength and the support of the helpful tree behind him in order to accomplish it. He took the strap of his pack with his paw and swung it around onto his back. It was wet and covered with mud, but then, so was the rest of him.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath and was about to set himself to continuing onward, but stopped. He inhaled deeply again, his sensitive canine nose taking in all of the scents around him. The scent of the wet trees and mud was overpowering, but he caught a hint of something else. Smoke. Fire. The wind carried the unmistakable smell straight to his nostrils.

There must be something up ahead! He toiled onward, even forgetting the piercing cold for a moment as he was entirely consumed by the task of discovering the source of this new scent. It only took him a few minutes to locate it. He pulled himself up to the top of a small hill and saw below him a large wooden structure beside the road. As he looked down he saw the trail he had been following joined up with a much larger road, and sitting at the junction of the two was the most beautiful thing he could have imagined at that moment: an inn.

His legs could not carry him quickly enough. Though he had forgotten how tired he was, his body had not. Halfway there he lost his footing and fell, muzzle first, into the mud. He clumsily scrambled back to his feet and continued making his way towards the inn, albeit at a slower pace. By the time he reached the door the rain had washed off most of the mud from his face and arms.

He threw the door open in front of him and stumbled into the main room. The wave of warm, dry air that met his face and body as he entered was like being taken into a lover's embrace. The main room was deserted but a small fire crackled in the fireplace on the adjacent wall. It was not a large establishment. There were only five large tables in the main room for the guests to dine at and a small counter at the back with half a dozen stools. The room was dark except for the meager illumination from the fireplace.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Vahn called out in a hoarse, strained voice. He dropped his pack and shut the heavy door behind him. The only sound he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears. His vision was beginning to blur; the weight of his body felt enormous. His legs trembled underneath him as he shivered violently. It was warm in the room but his clothing and fur were soaked with the icy water from outside, which now dripped down onto the floor and began collecting in a pool beneath his mud-caked boots.

Vahn looked up towards the back of the room as he noticed a figure moving through the shadows. As it moved into the light from the fireplace he could make out the small, lithe body of a young male cheetah coming up towards him. He wore only a simple pair of breeches. He must have been in bed.

As the cheetah finally approached closely enough to clearly see the coyote's weather-beaten state he gasped softly and raised a paw to his muzzle, covering his mouth. He stood there in shock, as if searching for the appropriate words.

"Could I have a room for the night please?" Vahn croaked when he realized that the cheetah seemed to be at a loss for what to say. The young cheetah collected himself and lowered his ears timidly, embarrassed.

"Y-yes of course sir, I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you." He took the dripping coyote's arm over his shoulder so the coyote could lean on him as he walked. He led Vahn towards a staircase across the room. Vahn wanted to object to the assistance but realized that even with the cheetah's support he barely had the strength to move his legs. Ascending the staircase took a great deal of effort for the both of them, but the cheetah was patient though he was smaller than the coyote and struggled beneath his weight.

"Right through here," the cheetah said as he pushed open the first door they came to on the second floor and led Vahn into the room. The room was dark and cold, but the only thing the coyote noticed was the large bed made up with a heavy blanket, clean linens, and a fluffy pillow.

"Thank you," Vahn breathed as the cheetah eased him down onto the bed. He tried to remain sitting up but exhaustion overwhelmed him and pulled him down onto the bed, where everything faded away.

****

Vahn stirred, turning over under the covers. The tranquil sound of the rain resounded throughout the room. He was still half-dreaming, lingering in the place where the sleeping world and waking world joined together. The bed was warm and soft and he felt as though he were back home with his family as a child, cherishing those last few moments in bed before his father would roust him from his lazy slumber to begin the morning's chores.

The coyote opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. This was not his home. At first he was not sure exactly where he was. As he gazed around the room, foggy memories of the previous night started coming back to him: the storm, freezing cold, exhaustion, and then a cheetah, and a soft bed with warm blankets.

It took him a few moments to get his bearings, but he was soon fully awake. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could get a better look at his surroundings. He saw his pack and boots sitting next to a small fire burning in a hearth across the room. They were no longer caked with mud and had dried out from the night before. Beside his boots he saw a small pile of the studded leather armor he had been wearing.

Then he noticed his clothing. Everything he had been wearing had apparently been cleaned and was now sitting in a neatly folded pile next to the rest of his things. His felt his face flush slightly and, after having confirmed with a quick glance under the covers, realized that he was naked.

He suddenly felt horribly embarrassed. He had stumbled into the inn dripping wet and covered with mud. The cheetah must have undressed him after he passed out on the bed so he could dry off and keep warm. Not only that, but apparently he had also taken the time to clean his clothing and equipment too!

His pointed ears perked up as he heard the dull thumping of footsteps coming up the nearby staircase outside the door to his room. The footsteps were followed by the muffled sound of voices, steadily growing louder as they drew nearer.

"What do you mean you don't know if he can pay?" The unfamiliar voice sounded angry.

"I didn't ask. What was I supposed to do, send him back out into the storm if he didn't have any money?" He recognized the cheetah's voice, speaking softly.

"That's exactly what you should have done!" There was a brief pause as the footsteps stopped just outside of the door. "You put him in my best room?" The other voice sounded even angrier now.

"I just wanted him to be comfortable and there weren't any other guests here. He didn't ask for the nice room, but he was cold and the cheap rooms don't have fireplaces and I thought-" The cheetah was cut off with a loud smack.

"I don't keep you around to think. I don't keep you around to be nice. And I certainly don't keep you around to do charitable giving! You're here to work and make me money, don't forget that." The other person outside of his door certainly wasn't trying to keep his voice down as the cheetah was.

The coyote sat up as a fat, middle-aged possum pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, looking in. The possum's attention went first to the pile of assorted equipment sitting by the fire. He looked it over as if assessing its potential value. After he seemed satisfied he looked to Vahn with a large, unsettling smile.

"Oh, good afternoon sir, I see you're finally awake. How are you feeling?" Asked the possum, his entire demeanor was different. Any trace of his former anger was swept away by the obvious excitement at having a customer who at least appeared to be able to afford mildly expensive tastes. Vahn was disgusted.

"Well enough I suppose," Vahn replied, trying to see the cheetah in the hallway through the open door. The possum was blocking his vision. "How long have I been asleep?"

"It seems you came in near three in the morning. It's now almost sunset so I would guess about fourteen hours," the possum said and then continued without missing a beat, "The storm is still pretty bad and we're quite a ways from the next town. You should stay here until it lets up. In the mean time, is there anything I can get for you?" Vahn pondered this for a moment.

"Actually, yes. After last night I could really use a hot bath and a hot meal." It was obvious the possum, who he assumed was the owner, was trying to get him to spend as much money as possible, but he was beyond caring. Vahn was dirty, sore, and hungry and decided that he would treat himself to a few luxuries.

****

The inn's single small bathing room was just a few doors down from the room Vahn was sleeping in. He pulled on a pair of breeches to cover himself and walked down the hallway. As he stepped into the room his nose was assaulted by a myriad of scents from an assortment of different soaps, oils, and perfumes. He closed the door behind him and looked over the room.

There was only a single tub in the room which sat perpendicular against the center of the back wall. From the underside of the tub was a small wood pipe which led directly to the wall where it probably drained out to the ground outside. Numerous shelves on one wall held a number of folded towels and a plethora of bottles filled with liquids with which Vahn was unfamiliar.

Directly beside the tub sat a simple chair, presumably for an attendant. At the rear of the tub, back against the wall, was a large metal water pump with a spigot positioned to fill the tub. On the wall opposite from the shelves was an oversized fireplace with a large iron cauldron hanging over it. A hefty fire burned beneath the cauldron, which was filled with water.

Vahn smiled as he surveyed the room. This was certainly a luxury he was not used to. He had only ever had a handful of hot baths with good soap in his whole life.

The door to the hallway suddenly opened inward and bumped into the coyote. He quickly stepped to the side. He had not heard anyone walking down the hallway towards the room. He looked back towards the door as he saw the cheetah step into the room, burdened by a large pile of firewood stacked high in his arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry m'lord, I didn't see you there," the cheetah blushed and lowered his ears and head. He stood in the doorway, struggling to keep his balance with the large pile in his arms. Vahn blinked and moved to the side as the cheetah stepped into the room and dumped the large pile of wood onto the floor next to the fireplace.

Lord?

"There, I think that should be enough." The cheetah brushed the dust from his arms and smiled shyly at Vahn. By the looks of the pile of wood, Vahn assumed it would be more than sufficient for five baths. The cheetah moved past him to shut the door and sat down in the chair next to the tub where he set himself to working the pump. For almost a minute nothing happened, but then the pump started coughing and sputtering and soon fresh, clean water began to rush into the tub.

Vahn was somewhat unsure of what to do with himself at this point, so he just waited and hoped he would figure it out before he embarrassed himself. He instead focused his attention on the cheetah, watching him work. He looked to be near Vahn's age, maybe a little bit younger, probably around seventeen or eighteen. He wore the same simple, brown breeches that he had on when Vahn first stumbled into the inn, but now he also had a plain black tunic, which only came down to his waist. It was too small, even on the cheetah's slim torso. Vahn could see the outlines of the feline's slender frame. He had a sleek runner's build.

The cheetah rose to retrieve the hot water from the fire. His legs, like the rest of his body, were slender, but the coyote could tell they were strong. He lifted the cauldron by the hook it hung from over the fire, brought it to the tub, and poured the steaming hot water in with the cold. He wore no shoes, his bare paws padding silently along the floor with a grace only a feline could accomplish. His fur was a light tan dotted with a cheetah's black spots. Vahn could see the cheetah's fur was very well cared for. When he replaced the cauldron over the fire, Vahn noticed for the first time that the cheetah's breeches were also entirely too small for him. While breeches were normally baggy, these clung to the feline's legs. As he sat in the chair beside the tub and tested the water with his paw, Vahn could see how his breeches followed every line and curve of his thighs. The breeches were slightly baggier further up, but the coyote saw where the fabric strained slightly between the felines legs. Vahn's gaze rose up the feline's lithe form and was met with golden eyes. The light tan fur on his face and head was also clean and well groomed. Distinctive black tear lines glided down both sides of the short feline muzzle, where the tan faded to a creamy white around the lips and nose. The lips turned up in a shy smile, whiskers twitching slightly. He wore a timid expression, golden eyes gazing back at him. Vahn smiled and sighed. A truly beautiful creature sat before him.

Vahn blinked and shook his head. He could feel his face start to burn as he realized he had been staring at the cheetah, who had been sitting in the chair, waiting for him for some time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Vahn mumbled, desperately trying to figure out what to say. The feline just smiled.

"Your bath is ready m'lord." There was that word again. The cheetah's voice sounded somewhat distant. Had he been staring back?

"Oh, I'm uh, I'm sorry, it's just-I'm not really sure what to do here," Vahn tried to cough. He was sure he looked like a complete idiot. "I've never been waited on like this before."

"I could go if you would rather be alone," the cheetah spoke softly. Did his ears droop? Vahn couldn't tell. The feline's tone and expression all seemed carefully measured.

"No, it's fine. Just, different for me, is all." After the words stumbled from his lips Vahn decided it would be better if he stopped talking. The coyote unlaced his breeches and slid them down his legs. Why did he feel so awkward? He wasted no time in climbing into the tub, letting his body sink down the hot water. In moments his apprehension completely melted away.

"How is the water? Is it warm enough?" The cheetah asked as he rose from his seat and selected three different bottles from the shelf and brought them back to the tub.

"It's perfect. It feels wonderful," Vahn replied, and then realized he had been meaning to ask something. "I'm afraid I still don't know your name."

"My name is Caylen Larodis, m'lord."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Caylen, and please, I am not a noble. My name is Vahn Draku. No more of this 'm'lord' business," the coyote said with a kind voice and a smile. He didn't want the cheetah to feel like he was scolding him. Caylen nodded and returned the smile.

"Vahn then. I've picked out a mild lavender scented soap I think you might like," the cheetah pulled the stopper out of one of the glass bottles filled with a light purple liquid and presented it to the coyote to test the scent. Vahn sniffed at the bottle curiously. The soap had a very pleasant aroma, but did not overpower his nose like many other soaps and oils did.

"Oh, yes, I like that one a lot," said Vahn. Caylen handed him the bottle. The coyote stood up in the tub and poured a fair bit of the soap into his paws. He rubbed the soap into his fur and worked up a good lather. The cheetah remained seated on his chair, his gaze lowered respectfully. Vahn no longer felt quite as uncomfortable as before. This was probably something Caylen did for the other guests at the inn as well.

As he washed himself, Vahn noticed on more than one occasion that the cheetah's eyes would occasionally drift over his body when he thought the coyote wouldn't notice. Vahn smiled as he saw this. He wanted to say something, but was far too afraid of offending the feline if his assumptions were incorrect. But he was so gorgeous. The coyote finished washing himself in a frustrated state. He just couldn't bring himself to ask.

The bath ended uneventfully. After Vahn rinsed himself off Caylen drained the tub and refilled it with fresh water. This time Caylen poured in some lavender oil, giving the water a very pleasant scent. As wonderful as it felt to relax in the hot water, the coyote only allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy it. Hunger was getting the best of him. The tub was drained again and the cheetah brought Vahn a large towel to dry off with. The coyote thanked him and Caylen excused himself to begin preparing Vahn's meal.

A short time later Vahn sat at one of the tables in the dining room. The cheetah had prepared a delicious chicken stew for Vahn, the possum, and himself. The three ate together at the same table. The possum, whose name was Tark, dominated the conversation. The inn had apparently been in his family for three generations, but he was the one who made it as nice as it was today. He boasted about the inn's excellent location in the middle of the Sage Hill Forest on the shortest route between the cities of Northbay and Haldrand. Since the road was so difficult, most people took the main road around the forest which added two extra days. However, according to Tark, he got more than enough customers to keep business booming for his small establishment.

The innkeeper had three other employees who he had sent to Northbay to pick up more supplies since this was a very slow time of the year due to all of the major storms. Tark spoke at length about the work ethic and skill of his other employees, but noticeably made no mention of Caylen whatsoever. During the whole conversation the cheetah kept his eyes low and did not speak a word.

When the three had finished eating, Caylen collected the plates and utensils and disappeared into the kitchen. Tark huffed and walked behind the counter in the dining room and refilled his large mug for the fourth time with spiced wine. Vahn had not even finished the tankard of ale he had with his stew. The possum stumbled back to the table and rather ungracefully sat back down, nearly falling over in the process. He leaned in as if to whisper to Vahn but his slurred voice was as loud as it had ever been.

"You know in all of Zev there isn't anyone so ungrateful as that retch there in the kitchen, not anyone in the whole country," he began, obviously intent on educating Vahn about the cheetah. The scent of alcohol on the possum's breath was so strong it nearly made the coyote gag. "You see, the bastard's cunt mother croaked the day after he was born. After that his father, a damn good feline, became my best customer. They had a small house out here in the forest. The feline would be in here every night, damn near drank the whole place dry.

"He would go on endlessly about how that demon-child killed his beautiful wife. I tell you, I think it may be true. That boy is cursed I think. But despite all of that, I still let the kid work here. Hell, someone had to pay his father's tab. When the old man died last year-poor bastard choked on his own vomit after he passed out from a drinking binge-he left such an enormous debt behind that now I'm stuck with that useless child of his until I've been paid back. I had the writ of servitude written up by the local magistrate the day the kid's father died, lest he try to run off without paying me what's owed.

"So you see, I feed him, clothe him, put a roof over his head, and let him work for me to pay off his father's debt. Do I ever get any thanks? Of course not. I should just throw that little ingrate out into the cold. You hear that you little piece of shit? I should throw your ass out into the street where you belong." Tark shouted the last part so Caylen could hear in the kitchen. There was no response.

Vahn just sat, bewildered, as the possum brought his mug to his muzzle and poured the remainder of its contents into his gullet. He had seen servants treated badly before, but nothing like this. Tark obviously thought nothing of it. A cursed demon-child? Only the Orthodox Church from the Eastern Region of Zev held to such ridiculous notions. The coyote wanted to say something in Caylen's defense but kept quiet for fear that it might cause Tark to take out more aggression on the poor cheetah.

Tark slammed his mug down on the table, belched loudly, and wiped his muzzle clean with his forearm. Vahn winced at the stench that emanated from the possum's gut. It made his eyes water.

The front door of the inn suddenly flew open with a crash, followed by a gust of cold air from outside. Vahn turned to see a black bear draped in a heavy cloak, dripping wet, step in from the heavy rain outside.

"Narok! You finally made it. How was the trip?" Tark jumped up from his seat and stumbled towards the bear. The bear took off his cloak and dropped it into Tark's waiting arms. The heavy plate armor he wore beneath the cloak was immaculate and glistened in the torchlight. Vahn also noticed a large bastard sword strapped to his back.

"Damn your pleasantries, Tark. I'm here for business. You'd damn well better have a good reason for calling me out to this shit-hole of yours in the middle of a storm," the bear's voice was deep and harsh. He eyed Vahn suspiciously.

"Oh yes, of course! I came across a little piece of information that you will find quite useful. For the right price, of course." Tark wobbled precariously as he spoke.

"Of course. Let us discuss it privately." The bear's eyes were fixed squarely on Vahn. He began walking towards a door off to the side of the main room, Tark stumbled along behind.

"You know it's amazing what you can get out of the Royal Vanguard with enough alcohol and a few pretty females," was the last thing the possum said before the heavy door slammed shut behind the two.

That was strange. The bear must have been a knight or a high-ranking officer to be able to afford armor like that. What business could he have with the innkeeper? Could they be involved with the war somehow? Which side were they on? A cold chill shot up the coyote's spine. Had they gone through his pack?

He left his mug on the table and dashed up the stairs to his room. Everything was as he found it when he woke up, lying next to the fire, which still had a few embers smoldering. He opened his pack and pulled out his grandfather's old sword.

Vahn pulled the longsword from its cracked leather sheath. The weapon was over 75 years old and was covered with nicks and scratches in the metal. It had been neglected for decades before the coyote had found it as a pup. He'd grown up in a quiet town near the mountains. His parents were merchants and had no use for such an item, except perhaps to sell.

At least it used to be quiet, before the war. For the last five years Zev had been ravaged by civil war. Moris Kelwren, Duke of the Eastern Region, rebelled against the Zeevan King, Mathis Tylemar. The duke had the backing of the Zeevan Orthodox Church, which presumably wanted to regain control from the United Church of Zev as the official religion of the country.

Vahn had been only fourteen when the war started. The duke's armies tore across the country, leveling the towns and cities that supported the king. Stonefall Ridge, the small town he'd grown up in, supported the king and nearly fell. They were greatly fortunate that the king's army arrived in time to repel the Eastern attack. Many others were not so lucky. During the first months of the fighting thousands of defenseless people died.

The coyote slid the sword back into its sheath and set it aside. He went through his pack to make sure everything was still there. The letters from his lord and general were both still sealed inside of the small wooden box he kept them in to keep them clean and dry. He took out his heavy coin purse and dumped its contents on the floor and recounted. One, two, three, four, five gold royals. One half royal. Seven and a half silver nobles. Ten, twenty, thirty, thirty-seven coppers. It was all there. Vahn still could hardly believe that he had such a staggering quantity of money. Most omega class citizens would never in a lifetime see so much money. His family did help a lot, though. They were not quite considered a beta class family, but they did much better than most omegas. In exchange for his family's help, he'd given up all rights to his inheritance to his younger brother, Caleb.

The rest of the items in his pack-a bedroll, water, some jerky and bread, and extra clothes were all accounted for. He was relieved. He certainly did not want to be discovered by Eastern sympathizers, if that was what Tark and Narok were. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that that was exactly what they were. There could have been trouble if they had discovered the letters from his lord and general. He began packing everything back into his pack. Whether or not the storm subsided, he was going to leave in the morning.

He threw more wood on the fire and prodded it with the fire poker hanging nearby until a good fire was burning again. He brought his sword to the side of the bed and laid down on top of the covers. He was not sure how much sleep he would get since he had only woken up a couple of hours ago, but just relaxing would feel nice.

Vahn's thoughts drifted to Caylen. Even if Tark was an Eastern sympathizer, he couldn't be. Could he? The thought was unsettling. He tried in vain to think of something else, but he was unable to force the cheetah from his mind. It was a terrible fate that he suffered, one which made Vahn's heart ache just thinking about it. He had heard of writs of servitude before. It was a legal document which forced the debtor to work as a servant until the debt was paid off. Most such writs provided a weekly or monthly contribution towards the debt in exchange for the service in addition to allowing the debtor to make payments towards the debt if he or she was able to earn additional money on the side. Some writs could take years or even decades to work off. Vahn wondered how much debt Caylen's father left him with. It was a terrible thing to do to a child, but if anything Tark had said about Caylen's family was true, his father was likely not at all concerned for the welfare of his son.

The door to his room crashed open, the frame splintering and cracking as the bolt tore through it. Narok and two other bears charged into the room, snarling terribly as they circled Vahn's bed, grabbed him by the leg, and threw him to the floor. As he tried to reach for his sword, Narok hammered his booted foot down onto Vahn's sword-paw. The coyote cried out in pain as he felt the bones in his paw and fingers crack and shatter. The two other bears grabbed him by the arms and yanked him up to his knees. He looked up and watched as Narok pulled a dagger from his belt, a wicked grin on his face. Vahn struggled to pull himself free, but the bears were too strong. Terror overwhelmed him. He had no way to free himself, no weapon, and no one to come to his aid. All he could do was watch with wide eyes as Narok waved the blade in front of his face.

"This is what we do those who support the crown," his harsh, low voice was cold and emotionless. The bear drew the dagger back and thrust it towards the coyote's chest.

Vahn shot up in the bed with a terrified gasp. His heart was racing and his breathing was heavy and ragged. His right paw and chest both tingled and burned. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. The door to his room was still locked; everything was as it had been. He looked over at the fireplace. What had been a large flame with fresh firewood was now just glowing embers again.

The coyote put his feet on the floor and rubbed his eyes. Within a few moments he'd caught his breath and calmed down a bit. He stood up and walked to the window. It was still dark outside but he could tell the rain was letting up. It was little more than a drizzle now and he could see patches of the starry night sky through the clouds. Good. He could definitely leave in the morning. As soon as the sun rose, he wanted to be out of this place.

His thoughts were still troubled, filled with the images of his dream. He needed to clear his head. Maybe he would walk around the inn or step outside. On his way out the door he strapped on his sword belt, feeling more comfortable with his weapon nearby.

The hallways were dark; all of the lamps had been extinguished. He walked quietly down the staircase. The main room looked similar to the way it had when he first arrived, the only light provided by the small fire burning in the hearth.

Vahn stopped suddenly as he caught a trace of a familiar scent. Blood. His ears shot up and his paw instinctively moved to the hilt of the sword at his waist. He remained motionless and listened carefully. He could hear shaky, trembling breathing. It was coming from just outside. He padded slowly towards the door, bare foot-paws making barely a sound as he moved. He listened carefully for any sign of danger. There were no other sounds except for the rain falling outside and the fire burning nearby. There was only one other scent that meant anything to him. Caylen. He opened the front door.

The cheetah was curled up on the stone porch just outside the door, tucked into a corner. The area outside of the inn was sheltered from the rain by the roof overhead, but that did little to stop the cold. The air outside was nearly freezing and the wind, though little more than a constant light breeze, made the cold nearly unbearable.

Caylen's face and muzzle were stained with tears. His nose and mouth both dripped with blood and Vahn could see that one eye was partially swollen shut. The blood had dripped down onto his arms, paws, and tunic. The cheetah was shivering badly and looked up at him, damp eyes filled with fear, shame, and helplessness. Vahn's heart sank as he saw the poor feline. He had to do something.

Vahn did not say a word, but simply crouched down and lifted the shivering cheetah into his arms. Caylen remained silent. His arms were wrapped around his chest, trying to keep himself warm. The coyote pushed the front door open with his foot and carried the cheetah up to his room. He gently laid Caylen down on the bed, threw several more logs into the fire, and locked the door.

"Tark?" was all Vahn asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the blankets up over Caylen, who simply nodded in response, his eyes watering more. "Why?" Caylen took a deep, shaky breath.

"H-he didn't get as much money as he wanted from Narok. He said it was my fault and just started hitting me. He wouldn't stop! I begged him to stop, but he just told me to shut up. When he was done he threw me outside and told me not to come back in until sunrise or he'd beat me again." Caylen's eyes dripped with tears as he spoke and a trickle of blood dripped down the side of his muzzle. "It wasn't my fault was it? Did I do something wrong? I try so hard to do a good job but he always says I screw everything up."

Vahn felt a tightness in his throat and could feel his own eyes moisten as he listened and watched the cheetah cry and bleed on the bed beside him. He did the only thing he could think of and wrapped his arms tightly around the cheetah, who immediately curled up and clung to him. The cheetah sobbed into Vahn's shoulder for a few minutes. The coyote just cradled him in his arms. He could feel the cheetah's tears through the cloth of his tunic, dampening his fur.

After a few minutes he had calmed down enough to speak again. Caylen turned his muzzle from Vahn's shoulder and looked up at the coyote. Vahn saw a stray teardrop on the side of the cheetah's muzzle and wiped it away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a burden to you," said Caylen in a meek voice.

"You are no burden at all, and you certainly have nothing to apologize for. You have done nothing wrong. Tark is a fat, ignorant sloth who deserves to be flogged and branded for the way he treats you. Given the opportunity I'd gladly do the flogging myself," said Vahn, his voice gentle and reassuring. Caylen nodded and even managed a slight smile, but that brought a wince as his lip began to bleed once again. The cheetah's breathing was still shaky. He clung tightly to Vahn, pulling himself up closer to the coyote, though he had stopped shivering.

As Vahn saw the blood drip down the side of the cheetah's chin, something inside of him that had been holding him back gave way. He began licking the cheetah's face and muzzle gently, cleaning away the blood and tears and soothing the cut on the feline's lip. He was at first afraid that Caylen would be angry or object, but the cheetah actually pulled him closer and turned his muzzle so Vahn's tongue could reach it more easily. Vahn continued for several minutes, until he was satisfied that the cut had stopped bleeding, Caylen's tears were dried, and the blood was cleaned from his face.

When he finished, Vahn looked down to Caylen again. They gazed into each other's eyes briefly, until Caylen leaned forward and touched his muzzle to Vahn's with a soft kiss. Vahn felt his heart soar, every question he had about the cheetah being answered. He closed his eyes, returning the kiss and caressing the side of the cheetah's muzzle with his paw. Lips parted ever so slightly and their tongues brushed against one another. This continued for a few moments as the two tasted each other for the first time. Vahn pulled away first, a bright smile on his muzzle.

"You should get some sleep. You will stay here with me tonight," whispered Vahn. Caylen smiled back and nodded, eventually letting himself slip away from the coyote's embrace. Vahn stood up and pulled the covers up over the cheetah, tucking him into bed. Caylen looked peaceful as he drifted off to sleep.

Vahn rose from the bed and glanced out the window. The rain had finally stopped, the sky was clearing, and the sun would be rising in an hour or two. He walked over to the pile of his equipment on the floor, unfastened his sword belt, and stripped off his loose tunic and breeches. He rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a pair of heavy leggings and a thicker, tighter tunic. He pulled them on and began strapping on his armor, piece by piece.

His world had suddenly become much more complicated.