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Kory and the Great Homecoming 2013 Gren Drake

Day was fading into evening when Kory and Angela reached his home village of Baden. He had started to recognize the area long before that and the sight of familiar buildings, unchanged from the last time he'd seen them, lifted his spirits. Despite having been walking all day his step became quicker as they entered the confines of the village, his tail swishing gently behind him and his lips trying, not entirely successfully, to form a smile.

Though simple, the buildings were the ones he had grown up around and were as familiar to him as the back of his hand. The thought made he glance down momentarily at his forepaw and he stumbled a moment at the reminder of what had happened to him, but the moment didn't last long and he soon regained the bounce in his step. It wouldn't be more than a couple of minutes before he got to see his father again.

The village was quiet around him, but it always was at that time of the day. Night was a time for rest, not work, especially in a place as potentially dangerous as his father's smithy. Admittedly, the forge did provide a certain amount of light, but not nearly enough. Some things were best left to daylight when one was fully awake.

As he strode through the village his eyes darted from one building to another, taking them in as though it had been a lifetime since he had seen them last. Before his encounter with Rupert he had never expected to leave the village.

It took only a few minutes for them to reach the smithy; the work area was exposed to the elements, but had a thatched roof hanging over it that provided shelter from the elements when work was in progress. This roof was higher than it was on the attached house and the chimney of the forge forced its way up through the thatch. The ground was littered with straw, and the straw around the anvil was the most flattened, pressed into the ground. Several completed items, horseshoes, nails, and a few farming instruments, leaned up against the house wall, sheltered but accessible.

Sitting on the anvil was a large man, at least six feet tall, with short-cropped hair and a heavily muscled body marred only by numerous burn scars. It was Kory's father, Simon, smith of the village and surrounding areas. For a moment Kory stopped, just staring at his father and taking in the familiar, comforting sight. Even just looking at his father seemed to take a weight of his shoulders as if a part of him had believed he'd never really see his family again.

Thus it took a few moments for him to realize that his father was just staring into space. Indeed, his father shouldn't even have been at the forge this late, even if its fires were banked and his father's hands where idle on his legs. And while Kory could understand not being recognized, he would have thought being approached by a strange woman and largish quadruped would have made something of an impression.

"Hello!" Kory called as he got near. He was all too aware that not only did he not look like himself but that even his voice had been changed by Rupert's spells.

Kory's father jumped, turning quickly to peer at him through the darkness. "Who are you? What is that you have with you?"

"Father, I know this may be hard to believe, but I'm Kory, your son. I was-" he was interrupted as his father shouted at him.

"Liar!" Simon's glare could have melted any of the metals his forge worked with. "My son was killed by that fraud Rupert; he did something to Kory. It took days for him to die; we buried him two days ago."

"Impossible!" Kory exclaimed, falling to his haunches in shock as he stared at his father. "I can assure you, I am not dead."

"Sir," Angela added, stepping up and putting a shoulder on Kory's shoulder. "He's telling the truth. I saw Rupert frequently using magic on him." Kory's eyes twitched towards her for the briefest of moments; he hadn't been aware Rupert had frequently cast spells on him, but that was trivial next to the matter at hand.

Simon barely even looked at her as she spoke, keeping his glare on Kory. "And I say he can't be. Kory died at home while I watched. I helped bury him." Simon's voice was getting quite loud; Kory hoped the neighbors wouldn't investigate too soon. Things were going badly enough as it was. "Are you saying I can't recognize my own son?"

"Sir, honestly-"

He interrupted her, still not sparing a glance at her.

"You say you saw this thing, whatever it is, happen. Tell me what my son looks like, then. I've never seen you before and I can't imagine anyone describing him to you. I can't believe you've really met him, let alone that this, this beast is him."

Angela hesitated. "I'll admit sir, I didn't see the actual transformation, but I know what happened. Kory told me about it and even Rupert himself boasted of what he'd done."

"Bah! Don't mention my son's name to me." He waved his hand at Kory as though chasing off a fly. "A feeble story like that is hardly going to convince me of anything. Begone before I strike you for playing on an old man's grief." And indeed, Kory could see his father's hand reaching for his hammer.

"I could-" Kory began, but was interrupted.

"Begone! I do not care to be called a liar by some beast."

"But-" Kory was interrupted again, this time by Angela grabbing one of his curled ram's horns and yanking his head to the side.

"I think we should leave the man to his grief," she said, struggling to drag Kory away from the smithy. He didn't fight her; it was clear that his father was not going to listen.

"Listen to your master, beast," Simon called after them. "She's actually showing some intel-" he froze mid-word and Kory glanced back to see his father staring at them; it took a moment for Kory to realize that this would be the first time his father had gotten a look at Angela's backside; the way her tail lashed back and forth made it quite visible, even in the darkness. "Ah, showing some intelligence. And don't you dare approach Agnes with this nonsense!"

Kory allowed himself to be pulled away from the smithy, his tail drooping behind him and his steps slow and uneven, motivated more by the way Angela was pulling on his horn than anything else. And it was only her grip that kept his head from drooping as well, though his ears managed it. He paid no attention to where he was being pulled; it could hardly matter when he'd been rejected by his own father.

* * *

It came as a surprise when he felt a hard wooden floor beneath his paws and heard the clicking of his claws against it. Looking around he had no trouble recognizing the place; it was somewhere he had been many times, resting and having a long drink after a long day of helping his father at the forge. The massive hearth behind the counter still burned as merrily as ever, ill-suiting his mood. Beams criss-crossed the ceiling, held up by the frequent pillars that also held the second floor. That was where the tavern keeper and his family lived and was where the single guest room that they rented out to travelers was. The tavern was nearly empty, only a couple people Kory recognized as hard-core drinkers remaining; the rest had returned home to their families.

The tavern keeper, James, stood behind the counter, but quickly came out as he saw them enter. Like Simon he was a large man, but he had far less muscle and was slightly pudgy, the sign of a man who spent a lot of time standing behind a counter and serving drinks and the occasional meal. He served, Kory knew, as the central rumour-mill of the village; it was said that as soon as anyone knew something, he learned of it.

"What do you want?" His characteristic friendliness was entirely absent.

"Do you have a room we could let for the night and a meal?" Angela asked. Kory couldn't have carried less, especially about the meal; eating was the furthest thing from his mind.

"I suppose it is getting too late to depart," James said. "Very well, take a seat over there in the corner and I'll see what I can scrounge up."

Given the large pot bubbling in the hearth which, if it was anything like it had been the past, had plenty of stew, this seemed overly pessimistic. Kory followed Angela and settled to his haunches across the small table from her. This left him staring at her chest, his head only slightly above the table, but he wasn't really seeing her, her chest, or the table.

A few moments later James returned with a two bowls and cups along with a pitcher that appeared to contain the worst of his ale.

"I don't like liars," he said as he set them down. "Nor those who would take advantage of other's grief. But Albert had said there were some odd things about the boy Kory when they brought him back. If there's any truth to your story at all, I suggest you speak with him. Otherwise I recommend you leave first thing in the morning. Room is the first door on the left up the stairs."

Kory nodded absently. "I know." James glanced at him, eyebrow raised, but Kory didn't expand on his comment. It seemed that James already knew who Kory claimed to be, who he was, though that wasn't all that much of a surprise considering how loud the discussion had gotten.

"What kind of odd things?" Angela asked as Kory tried to take a bite of the stew. This proved more challenging than he'd anticipated and his teeth snapped shut with only the barest trace of liquid between them.

"The boy was totally out of it, so his father took him to Albert, see," James said, warming to both the subject and to Angela; James had always liked telling stories, even the more tragic ones and Angela was good looking, if a bit obviously travel-worn. That her tail was hidden by the table probably helped as well. "Albert did some magic type stuff and pronounced that the boy had lost his soul or had it taken from him."

This caught Kory's attention, tearing it from his rather unsuccessful and slightly messy attempts to eat the stew, a meal never intended for those without hands. "Without my soul?"

The warmth dropped back out of James' voice when Kory spoke. "You'll have to talk to Albert about that one. Didn't understand a word of it."

"We'll do that," Angela assured James. "How much do we owe you?"

They haggled a bit, though James's price was remarkably firm, especially given the few patrons present. Admittedly, it wasn't like Kory or Angela could go anywhere else; the only alternative was to sleep outside. Kory didn't really listen to the haggling, allowing the stew to hold his attention. The challenge of trying to eat it was enough to keep him from thinking about the evening's events.

Eventually Angela pulled out the small amount of cash she had and handed over a few coins. James looked them over then nodded.

"Goodbye." He emphasised the final word before turning to return to his place behind the counter.

It was not long before he and Angela finished their meagre meal, Kory eventually resorting to lapping up the stew. Afterwards, they made their way upstairs where Kory flopped onto the floor of the small room and let the darkness of sleep overcome him.

* * *

Morning dawned and with it came the sun through the open shutters, brightly illuminating the room and waking the two sleepers within. The sky was clear with no clouds in sight and would have lifted the spirits of anyone else.

Even as the sun forced him into wakefulness, Kory did his best to ignore it. He had been immersed in a wonderful dream of returning home, of everything suddenly being normal once again. As he realized that it was a dream, that he was still trapped in the body of a beast, he groaned, clenching his eyelids shut and pretending not to hear Angela as she told him to get up.

Eventually she grabbed his horns, pulled his head up and forcing him to stand if he didn't want his neck twisted rather unpleasantly.

"Wake up, sleepyhead! We have to see Albert this morning."

Right. The mage. Kory got his feet under him and stood, shaking his head clear of the last remnants of sleep. He'd forgotten about the mage. Perhaps Albert would be able to help him, or at least get everyone to understand that he wasn't dead. He couldn't be, no matter what anyone thought or had seen.

Angela took only a moment to freshen up before they left the room, heading downstairs and out of the inn. Kory was able to lead the way directly to where the mage Albert lived; he'd never had much to do with the mage, but everyone was at least aware of each other in a population as small as the village.

Once there, Angela rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the morning silence; the sounds of daily life in the village had not begun yet, though there was no doubt that farmers were already in their fields.

"A moment! A moment!" A voice, Albert's voice, came from within the small but sturdy house. A few moments later the door was opened. Albert stood there, looking as old and grizzled as ever, his eyes squinting at his visitors. One hand held the door and the other the head of a cane no less gnarled and craggy than he was. Kory had never been sure how much of the old man look was an act as Albert had looked much the same for Kory's entire life.

"Ah!" he said. "I was wondering if I would be seeing you. I presume that you are the beast going around claiming to be our dear lost Kory?"

"I am Kory." The statement was made firmly, to leave no doubt of its veracity.

"Yes, yes, come in, let us see what we have here." The mage led them into his home. The main room was not large and was divided from the rest of the building by a wall of shelves crammed full of scrolls and tomes. Additional shelves lined the other walls, equally filled. The centre of the room was occupied by a pair of massive chairs with cushions one could get lost in if one wasn't careful. Albert carefully settled himself into one of them and gestured towards the other.

"I'm afraid I've only got the two chairs," he said. "I don't normally see more than one person at a time. But I don't think they'd be very suited to you anyway, eh?" He looked at Kory as he asked this.

"I suppose not," Kory said, settling to his haunches next to the chair as Angela sat into it. She sat on the edge of the chair and even at that sank several inches into the cushion.

"James said that my, ah, body was missing its soul?" Kory asked.

Albert nodded. "Yes. I remember it well, not that it was very long ago. The body-" Kory noted that Albert didn't put forth an opinion of the body's ownership- "was brought to me, unmoving and responsive. It didn't take long for me to discover that the soul was missing; whatever had happened was no mere accident."

"But how can a living body be missing its soul? I didn't think that was possible."

The mage shrugged. "I would've agreed with you before. Souls and bodies are linked; the only way to get a soul out of a body should be through death. I can't imagine the power it must have taken to tear the soul from the body and it could not have been a pleasant experience." Kory had no memory of the experience and was suddenly very glad of that.

"Rupert! He used, ah, I think Vincent called it elder magic?"

"Rupert you say?" Albert leaned forward, peering closely at Kory. "The charlatan? He came through here not long before we found the body. A few people wanted to chase after him, but it hardly seemed possible that someone who couldn't perform the most basic of spells could have done such a thing. But elder magic, now..." He trailed off, tapping his finger and staring into space. "What do you know of Rupert?"

"Nothing. He did something that took away my memory. Before waking up chained in an abandoned stable I don't remember anything unusual, or even Rupert at all."

"I do remember," Angela said. "He picked me up a while beforehand with promises of adventure." She chuckled grimly. "Ha, adventure! I've had my fill of that, now. Anyway, I didn't see where Kory came from, but everything I saw Rupert do came out of a single book he had with him. Arthur the Dark's Black Grimoire."

"Arthur the Dark. I remember reading about him a few years back; very long dead and good riddance to him. The world does need his type. Where's Rupert now?"

"Dead," Angela continued. "He used the book to summon Abbarax than, ah, fell into the circle he'd made."

"Really? I have trouble imagining anyone being that stupid, even him." He was silent for a moment, then stood. "Come. We shall go to my workshop and I shall perform a few tests. They are simple enough, though nothing that Charles would have thought to do. Misplaced souls are more normally the domain of clerics, but if we've got someone using elder magic around, well, that's a different story."

* * *

The mage's workshop was on the edge of town in a repurposed barn. Kory hadn't been aware of it, but then, he hadn't actually gone into a lot of the buildings in the village unless either invited or his father's work had taken him there. The interior of the barn had been entirely cleared out save for the few posts that assisted in holding up the roof; even the upper level that had once been present was now absent. A single shelf with a couple of tomes and what appeared to be a bottle of ale rested near the door. The ground had been entirely covered with a hard floor, suitable for the working of magics.

"Come in, come in," Albert gestured them into the former barn, then stepped inside himself. Numerous windows along the upper walls allowed in more than sufficient light to see the circle inlayed into the floor.

"If you'll just sit yourself in the circle there," Albert continued, "I'll see about doing some tests and maybe giving some credence to this story of yours. And perhaps figure out just what happened here, eh?"

Kory walked across the floor and sat in the circle, wrapping his tail around his legs and watching the mage. Angela remained near the door, leaning against the wall and just staying out of mage's way. Albert took a piece of charcoal that had been hidden behind a book and knelt at the edge of the circle. From the slow way he did this and the way he obvious leaned on his cane as he did, it seemed that crawling around on the floor was not something that suited him. It would explain why Kory did not remember there being much in the way of magical workings while he was growing up.

"Ack. I've got to get one of those raised daises one of these days," Albert said, grinning at Kory and chuckling. "Wouldn't be so much bending over then. Might make people feel special to be in the circle, too."

He fell silent save for the lingering remains of his chuckle as he began to draw out symbols using the charcoal. The symbols were as unfamiliar as ever, but Kory still watched him draw them. Before long he set the charcoal aside and touched the symbols; there was a flash of light and a tingling sensation ran over Kory's body, followed by the feeling of fingers brushing his hide and fur. They covered his entire body and when he realized that they were causing a reaction from his loins he pulled his tail in tighter, trying to hide the signs. Oh, how he missed having pants!

"Well, well," Albert said walking in a circle around him and for a moment Kory thought the mage was talking about his budding erection. "Your soul doesn't fit your body very well."

"Oh?" Kory hoped that the mage would explain. At least, he thought he did. Although if he really wanted an explanation surely he'd have asked more clearly. It sounded like an unpleasant condition and, aside from his dislike of his current body, his body didn't actually feel bad or unpleasant.

"That means your soul didn't start out in this body and doesn't belong there. Not only that, but whoever did it did so without any finesse at all. I can tell by the feel of these results that your soul was torn from your original body, which would certainly explain why it was found in the field, and rammed into this body like one might force gelatin into a pitcher with a too-thin neck."

Kory blinked as he processed the analogy. Then panic set in. "So my real body is dead? I'm a couple of days too late to be restored?"

"Not hardly," Albert said and Kory felt a surge of hope. This crashed down to new depths as he continued. "Nobody short of the great mages of the south could perform such an exchange without the use of elder magic and there's no way I'd touch that even if I had the book. Your soul is secured in that body solidly enough the gods themselves might have trouble getting it loose."

"So I'm stuck like this? Forever?" Kory could only stare, his head drooping and his tail falling from where he was holding it to conceal an erection that no longer existed.

"Not hardly," Albert said again. "Those mages of the south could transform that body just as well as they could put you back were you belong. It should be easier, even. Though I admit you might be closer than I'd like to admit on the second one."

"Wait, what? How can I be not stuck like this, but it also be forever?"

"Your soul is stuck well and good. I'm not sure even dying is going to be good enough to let it loose."

"You mean even when I die I'm going to be stuck in this body? How's that even work? I thought death meant the soul went, well, wherever."

"Normally, yes, the soul moves on, but yours isn't moving anywhere. But death is just the end of life, the end of your heart beating in your chest. On the bright side you'll probably remain animate. There's no telling what other side effects the process will have."

Kory took a moment to consider "life" as a rotting corpse and realized the prospect of becoming a zombie instead was surprisingly cheering. Admittedly, it was still a rowboat in the midst of an ocean of despair, but at least it was something.

"So, what should I do?"

"Well, unless you decide you like your current form I'd suggest going south. In the meantime, take advantage of having body like you have. As a magical construct, which it is, your current body is going to be far more durable and long lasting than your human one ever was." The mage gave Kory a broad grin that entirely failed to cheer him up, even reaching into the circle to give him a few pats between his shoulders.

"Well, thanks for looking and for finding these things out for me."

"Indeed, no worries, it was my pleasure."

Kory slowly forced himself to his feet and started trudging out of the barn. Angela stepped in beside him as he passed her, guiding him with gentle pushes and pulls of his horn. He didn't pay a whole lot of attention to where she was taking him and didn't really care.

Even in the best of scenarios, the great mages would be a couple of months travel. He could hardly expect things to go well for him considering his recent misfortunes. And even once he got there there was no way he'd have enough money to pay them for their services.

He collapsed to the ground, mid-step, and closed his eyes, trying to will the world away, pretending that it did not exist, and that everything that had happened to him lately was nothing but a bizarre nightmare.

Even when he felt Angela's touch he ignored it. The real world had nothing for him anymore.

* * *

It wasn't clear how long Kory was laying there; at first he'd felt Angela's touch, first pulling on his horns, trying to get him to stand, then against his furred hide. He could hear her voice as well, though he ignored it entirely, the words not even registering. After a time these touches stopped and he felt her lean against his flank. He ignored all of this, however, instead just remaining with his eyes closed and letting the new-found bleakness of the world take him.

After an indeterminate time he felt Angela move again; for several moments there was nothing and he was alone in the world. Then he felt her pushing against his side again. He allowed himself to be rolled onto his side, his legs landing erratically next to him. She was shouting at him, though he still wasn't paying a lot of attention. Only enough to know that she was cajoling him into standing and moving on, but nothing that could actually get him to move. It wasn't like anything she said was going to change the situation.

There was a brief pause and then she was rolling him onto his back. His legs mostly limp by his side, kept from sprawling around him only by the constraints of his bestial body.

Hands rubbed the bare hide of his belly, stroking it gently. It was similar to what his lovers had done once before, when he was human, and he recalled those times to mind. They were happier times, when he didn't have to worry about what he was, only with doing the work his father gave him at the forge (nothing too complex, but no less important for that) and sneaking off to spend time with a certain farmer's daughter.

He was glad she hadn't seen him now, that she hadn't seen what had happened, though, admittedly, she probably still thought he was dead like everyone else did. Only the way the hands against his body started to move lower, stroking his belly, then the inside of his thighs, nearing his groin, prevented his thoughts from proceeding further down that path. Instead, he pictured the farmer's daughter, Faith, over him, teasing him as the hands he felt now were.

The hands, whoever's hands they were, brushed against his sheath, teasing it with their fingers. Even the fact that it was a sheath they touched and not his flaccid cock didn't jar him out of his imagined experience. Even without his realizing it, his body began to respond, his shaft starting to expand, exposing itself to the air. Not that the hands seemed to care; they seemed obsessed with his sheath and his balls slipping back to gently cup them, caressing them. He squirmed from the attention.

Something moist pressed against his sensitive shaft, running along it and moistening it. The slight buck his hips gave in response went unnoticed, at least by him. In his mind Faith was running her tongue over his shaft, looking up into his eyes as she did. She had such beautiful eyes.

He lowered his forepaws, imagining hands in his mind's eye, reaching out to rest them on the shoulders of his benefactor, distressed slightly at finding they could not reach.

"Umm, yes, like that," he said, the words slurring together. "Just like that."

The hand that had been rubbing his sheath shifted upwards, teasing gently the lower reaches of his cock, pushing his sheath back to expose more of its length. Fingers encircled the base of his shaft even as lips wrapped around the tip, wrapping around his glans. A tongue teased the end of his length, caressing it more and more. He could feel that it wasn't just saliva getting spread around his tip now, but that it was intermingled with his own precum.

His hips bucked again, trying to bury his shaft into the warm embrace surrounding it. The enveloping mouth withdrew from his shaft.

"Careful!" a voice admonished him. It was a heavenly voice, familiar and comforting. But any pondering on the source of that voice was shattered as he felt a smooth body with firm breasts rub against his own hide, his sensitive shaft brushing against that soft skin. He felt his lover's breasts press against him and he wrapped his forelegs around her, embracing her awkwardly.

There was a pause as the torso against him shifted, then was joined by legs that pressed in against his sides. He could feel that the end of his shaft was pressed up against something and without even thinking about it; he bucked his hips, pushing himself into the welcoming folds of his lover. He heard a moan from above him as he buried himself inside of her, his thrusts no less eager for all that it was an awkward, problematic position. And as he thrust he felt her shift backwards, further filling herself with his shaft.

With every thrust he made he was panting, his breath hot and heavy, presumably blowing over his lover. He could feel her own breath against his neck, the beating of her heart against his chest. His own heart beat no less fiercely, trumpeting his pleasure deep within his chest, a pleasure that found expression with a deep, rumbling growl that he could barely hear.

He kept his eyes firmly shut and fiercely imagined himself making love to his lover as a human, even as the responses and limitations of his body told him this wasn't the case at all. The pressure of his loins was building, though, and blissful though the encounter was, he knew he would not be able to prolong it for very long.

Then he was reminded of his new-found bestial nature as his shaft began to stick inside of his lover, the knot at its base beginning to swell, expanding so as to tie him to his lover. Even knowing that he was nearing his climax, he could not help himself from thrusting harder and trying to bury himself deep inside of his lover. Or at least trying to; their position was still awkward enough to make this problematic, even when he realized his tail, another of those bestial features he was trying to forget, curled around, the tip going to far as to brush against the back of his companion.

Finally his knot caught; he could feel his seed pulsing into his companion through his cock. His hips settled backwards, pulling his lover with them and eliciting a yelp from her. But no complaints. And despite the less than gentle movement he could feel her stiffen above him, her folds tightening around his shaft, holding it tightly within her.

For a moment he was too insensate to care. Then, finally, he managed to arrange words in his mouth.

"Sorry." But the words were rather garbled, not clear at all.

"Don't worry about it." A hand caressed the side of his snout. "I was just surprised."

Resting his head back, his rams horns pressing into the ground on either side of it, he opened his eyes. Above him was the forest; he couldn't see his paramour. Right, she'd still be tied to his groin. He raised his head again and for a moment could only blink, staring.

"Faith?"

"You were expecting?"

He blinked again, still staring. "Faith?" he asked again. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, silly?" She smiled at him, stroking his chest.

"But, but..."

"You don't want to see me?"

"No! That's not it at all. I just, I thought everyone thought I was dead."

She leaned forward, running her hands up his chest, one caressing the side of his neck. "We did. I distinctly remember being there when you were buried. After you visited him, Albert went to speak with your father who came to see my father. We came to get you, but found you just laying here with that other woman. She and Albert left us alone so that I could give you a warm welcome."

"But, but I've been changed, my body twisted."

"Albert did explain. But you've come back to us! It's not often someone gets a second chance at life. But come, let's head back to the inn; it'll be easier to explain things when everyone is present. Besides, your father has something he wants to say to you."

"My father?" A bit of the blackness that had vanished at her touch and words reappeared. It was hard to forget their last, less than pleasant encounter.

Faith grabbed one of the horns sticking out of his snout and gave it a playful shake. "I think he's going to apologize."

She tried to stand, yelping as Kory's knot was still swollen with her, tying them together as his shaft continued to fill her with his seed. Thankfully she was wearing a contraceptive amulet. Indeed, it was the only thing she was wearing. He didn't want to see what kind of spawn their union might produce.

"Ah, how long is this going to last? I mean, everyone is waiting for us."

"I have no idea," Kory admitted. "This is the first time I've done this since, you know."

"Really? I thought you'd have done it with that other woman." She stretched out across his belly and chest, stretching her legs out straight along outside of his thighs and nestling her head in against his own.

"Not even once." Not that he hadn't wanted to, but this hardly seemed the time to mention it. Or to bring up that first night he had spent with Angela. Indeed, the best course seemed to be to just remaining silent, holding her against him as well as he could and enjoying her embrace until they could join everyone else at the tavern.

* * *

It took the better part of twenty minutes before they were able to separate. He watched Faith dress as though he had never seen such a thing before, even if it did remind him that he had no clothing of his own. She said nothing about that, though, so neither did he. What he did do was carry his tail lower than he normally would have, providing that tiny bit more modesty.

After that it was a short trip to make it back to the tavern and the trip was uneventful. Evening was approaching once more, but both Faith and himself knew the area well enough that the poor light couldn't make them lose their way even if it did force them to slow down.

The tavern itself was unchanged, but it was more populated than the last time he'd seen it. A handful of tables had been pushed together and gathered around them were Angela, his parents and Albert. James, the tavern keeper, was busying himself with something behind the counter; Kory had never figured out just what it was, but it had to be time consuming because James always seemed to be doing it.

As he entered everyone looked up and for just a moment there was a perfect moment of stillness. Then Angela spoke, shattering the moment.

"Back up and about, Kory?"

He didn't have a chance to respond, not that there was any need to. His parents, as though they'd been waiting for that confirmation of his identity, rushed over to him. His mother knelt next to him, throwing her arms around his neck. From the brief moment he got to see her face before it was buried in his mane her eyes and cheeks were streaked from tears. His father stood a short distance away, silent. He looked at Kory, but never quite managed to meet his son's eyes. Despite the distance, Kory was sure that he saw traces of moisture around his father's eyes as well.

"Kory?" She spoke into his neck, "is that really you?"

"Yes, I'm me. I've, ah, been changed somewhat, but I am still me."

"Oh, Kory!" Her arms tightened around him as if they would never let go and for a moment he had trouble breathing. When she let go, rocking back onto her heels but still kneeling so that her head was level with his own, he took a few deep breaths. "But how? I was there when you were buried." She buried her face in his mane again and he found himself wishing he could have washed it after his time with Faith; it couldn't be very clean after being rubbed against the ground.

"I don't know. Perhaps Albert could explain? He seems to understand. But I don't have any memories between heading out into the field and waking up like this."

"Oh, Kory!" She spent a few moments with her face in his mane. "He tried to explain, but it makes no sense to me. What parts I do understand I don't like." She drew back, putting her hands on his shoulder to steady herself as she stood and he took pleasure in the feel of her hands on him. "But I think your father needs to say something as well."

She took a step back, putting an arm around Simon. A moment later when he hadn't moved she gave him a little push towards Kory and that seemed to get him started.

Simon lowered himself, so he could look Kory in the eye. "Kory? Son? I want, I need to apologize. It's just, when you've seen your only son's body dead, been at his side as life left, then helped to bury it in the ground, you don't expect to see him again. When something, I mean someone, appears and claims to be that son it seems entirely impossible. How could I believe it? And you look so different now."

Kory's father leaned forward, putting his hands on Kory's shoulder. This left his face practically pushing into Kory's nose, too close for Kory's eyes to focus on very well, but Kory deliberately didn't move, didn't pull away. After only a moment his father moved back slightly, his hands slipping up Kory's neck slightly and his face no longer eye-wateringly close. "Can you forgive me?" Kory could see his father was crying now as well; it was the only time he could recall seeing his father cry.

"Yes, of course," he said. He took a step forward, resting his head on his father's shoulder and wrapping a foreleg around him in a hug that was no less wonderful for all that it was awkward and not especially comfortable. A moment later his mother joined in the hug and they remained like that for a while.

When they broke up they moved back to the table, Kory settling onto his haunches next to it as his parents settled back into their chairs.

"I hope you'll come home with us," his father said. "Your, ah, friend can stay as long as she likes as well." As he spoke James came out with bowls of his hearty stew for everyone and tall mugs of fine ale. The latter of these proved to be enough of a problem for Kory that he eventually gave in and asked for it to be dumped into a bowl instead. Once he could actually drink it, admittedly by lapping it up, something everyone at the table politely ignored, he enjoyed it, though nowhere near as much as the reunion.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay long," Angela said as they settled in to eat. "I need to head southward to meet up with my own family again; they're not that far from here. I'll take you up on your hospitality tonight, but I think I'll be leaving in the morning."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Simon said, not sounding sorry at all. Kory nodded in agreement. Faith didn't even look at Angela, nor did she even make a pretense of being regretful. "Kory? I realize there are going to have to be changes, though I don't think this is the time to talk about them, but I don't want you to think you'll be forgotten or left behind because of what's happened."

"I'm certainly not going to forget you," Faith said, shuffling over next to him so she could put her arm over his shoulders. "I don't think my parents will approve, but I'm going to stay with you."

"Thank you, everyone." Kory bowed his head, tears forming in his own eyes and running down the side of his snout. "I appreciate it, everything. But I don't want to live my life like this. Albert tells me that there are mages to south that might be able to undo this. I feel I have to make the journey."

His father nodded and reached over to pat his shoulder even as his mother looked ready to burst into tears again. "I understand," his father said. "We will wait for you, whenever and however you return."

"Kory!" Faith cried out, burying her face against him. "To have you leave so soon after returning to us from the grave! I will wait for you. But I will, I will understand if things have changed when you return. It is a long journey."

"Well," he said, looking around the table. "Well, I think I will stay for a few days at least."

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