And Hiding Away
Field turned his head this way ... that way. Slowly. Before swallowing. The mouse didn't normally drink in public. In fact, he never did. He would only drink in private, and at night. But ...
"Gives you a buzz, huh?" Ketchy asked, smiling. Halfway finished with a glass of some blue thing. Some blue mix. It was her second glass.
"It's okay," was the mouse's reply.
"Mice can't hold their alcohol," Assumpta injected. "He doesn't wish to drink in a crowd. He fears it'll leave him vulnerable."
Ketchy made a sort of face. "You have to boil everything down to some predator/prey instinctual ... thing," she finished, sipping at her drink. Taking one sip, two. A little gulp. She shook her head as she swallowed. The stuff kind of burned. "You're so ... intense. All the time. Just ... relax," she said, swirling the liquid in her glass. "You know, I mean ... seriously." Her whiskers twitched absently.
"It's not in my nature."
"Then why are you here?" the squirrel questioned. "How come you joined us?"
"Because I wished to."
The mouse's glass was still over three-fourths full. He sighed, looking around. They were in a club on the space station. Pelios Station. There were two space stations in this asteroid belt. Twin stations. Pelios and K-7.
It was evening, and the Luminous crew was filtering through ... not only through here, through the club, but through the various restaurants and eateries. Here for a few days. Resting. And hiding away. Sort of like a shore leave. Except ... not on a planet.
The promenade surrounded them. The lights were dim and pretty, and everything was clean (for a space station, anyway). Lots of furs. Creatures. Voices. Adelaide still wasn't back from the bathroom.
"Field, stop worrying," Ketchy said. A bit tipsy. You could tell from her voice. From her tone. "You act like you're afraid she's gonna fly away. I mean, I know she's a bat, but ... she loves you."
"I know that." Field frowned at her.
"Then calm down ... "
"She's been gone for five minutes."
"Gosh, Field ... femmes always spend more time in the bathroom than guys. Anyway, can't you read minds now?" A glare. "Can't you sense if she's okay?"
"Yes ... "
"And?"
"There are too many furs in the room. The crowd's too dense. It's ... more difficult. Anyway, no amount of telepathic power ... can erase an instinctual anxiety."
"Don't start on that. You sound like the cat there."
"We're furs. To pretend our instincts don't ... help define us ... "
"I'm a squirrel. I'm prey. I worry, too."
"Not like mouses do."
"Yeah? Well ... whatever ... "
Field sighed. Feeling this was a childish argument. Whatever this argument was.
"Anyway, this is a safe station," Ketchy said, piping back in.
"Pity, that," was Assumpta's sly comment. The snow leopard's eyes glinted.
"Meaning?" asked Ketchy, taking another gulp. Meeting the feline's eyes.
Assumpta didn't respond.
"Ketchy, maybe you should slow down," Field advised, starting to worry. The squirrel was nice. She was a good fur. And it was alarming him at how quickly she was drinking. As if she were quickly trying to forget herself.
Adelaide, smiling warmly, sidled back up, taking the seat next to Field. "Sorry ... there was a line."
"Told you," said Ketchy, muzzle in glass.
Field wanted to reach out and hold Adelaide's paw. Squeeze her paw. But was too shy to do so with everyone looking at him. Everyone observing him. He just nodded, bit his lip, and smiled back. Such a genuine, innocent smile. "Okay," was all he said. "I ordered some fruit for you ... while you were gone."
"Yeah?"
"Grapes and strawberries ... and stuff. We can share."
"Bread-sticks are mine. I call the cheese cup," Ketchy intruded.
"You 'call' it?" asked the snow leopard, confused.
"Yeah, I get to keep it. You guys pour some cheese onto your plates, but I keep the cup ... for personal dipping. Once you've taken your share ... I get what's left in the cup." She downed the rest of her drink.
"I don't like cheese," Assumpta stated blankly.
"All the better for me. All the better for the mouse. Right, Field?"
Field's whiskers twitched. "Ketchy, it's too early to be drunk. Slow down ... "
"I agree," Adelaide said.
"There's a surprise," the squirrel muttered. "You two are, what, like ... attached at the hip now? That was quick."
Field sighed, blushing, ears warming, waiting for their food to come.
Adelaide sipped of ice water, ignoring the squirrel's remark, but trying to sense her thoughts. Something was wrong ...
The leopard, swallowing, pushed her chair back.
Adelaide, eyes looking up, asked, "Where are you going?"
"For a walk." The cat squinted and looked around. "It's too noisy in here. Too much laughter."
The bat stared at her.
She stared back before sidling off, leaving the mouse, bat, and squirrel at their table.
"So," Ketchy started up again, after a moment. She chomped on a pretzel. "What are we doing after supper? Hmm?"
"You know Juneau, down in engineering," said Rella. She swallowed. Held up a paw and a finger. And sipped of her water. She and the Captain were in a restaurant on the other side of the Promenade.
"Yes?" asked Wren.
Swallowing, clearing her throat, Rella giggled. She was wearing a dress. A dress with straps on the shoulders. The dress was a navy-blue, and she looked very smooth in it. Very confident. Very ... " ... well, Juneau does a passable Wren."
The other squirrel blinked.
"Impersonations," Rella added. "She does a passable you."
Wren chuckled. "Yeah? Really?"
"Mm-hmm." Rella, smiling, sorted her vegetables into separate piles with her fork. She didn't like it when her vegetables touched on her plate. Or when any of her food touched. "Yeah, she's got your mannerisms down and everything."
"Mm ... well, one of these days, I'm gonna have a little chat with Juneau."
Rella giggled, scooping up some vegetables. Chew-chewing. "Mm ... " She swallowed. "She'll like that, I'm sure. She does requests."
"A regular entertainer, huh?"
A nod. A smile. "Well, she's the chief engineer, so I blame it on ... well, her being an engineer. You know how they are."
Wren nodded, smiling. Looking down at his napkin. At the silverware. At the candle burning in the middle of the table. At the flowers there. That scented the air.
"It's a good thing we came here," Rella confided.
"Yeah, it's a nice station. The crew seems to be enjoying it." Wren looked around at the other tables. Saw a few other crew-furs.
"No, I ... well, you're right," said Rella, smiling bashfully. "No, but I meant ... us. Here. Tonight. This ... dinner." Her voice trailed. "I'm glad we're doing this."
Wren's turn to sort vegetables. But he soon stopped, looking up to her. "Well, I ... thought it might be nice." Pause. "I was getting the sense you were mad at me ... "
"Mad?"
"You always seem to disagree with me ... when it comes to key decisions. You always have this hesitation. I mean, not that ... I mean, it's good that you question things. That you don't blindly follow orders, and that you look at all the options, but ... I was just worried my command style was a bit of a friction for you."
"Mm ... " She shook her head, swallowing. "Not a friction, no. Just ... different."
He looked to her.
"Every other captain I've served under has been a predator, Wren. You're the first prey captain in the fleet. And the first rodent captain ... you're like ... a new breed of captain." She giggled, shrugging. "It's just ... " Her smile faded. "The way you do things is a bit different than I'm used to. I've always had to be combative with my captains, cause of what they were, but ... you know, I don't have to be that way with you. And I know that I have been, but ... it's out of habit. I just have to figure out how to unlearn it."
"Well, it wasn't me who calmed the crew after what happened ... with these shadow furs."
"I just told them the truth."
"I still don't know how wise that is. I don't want to drag anyone into this ... and have them hurt because of me."
"Well," she said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. She swallowed, cleared her throat. Thought a moment. "These shadow furs aren't just out for you. They're out for us. Our ship. The entire crew. We're in this together. We should all be prepared, and ... to do that, we need to stay informed. Knowledge is power, you know."
"Funny. I thought money was power."
"A combination of the two?" she said, smiling. And she shrugged. "But I never ... have never wanted those things. I feel if I had them, if I had too much intellect, or too much money, I would ... lose sight of the smaller, simple things. Like ... well ... " She trailed. About to say something and then stopping. "I just wish to be humble. To protect others." She toyed with her water class. A paw touching the chill of it. "That's why I became a security officer. To protect people. And ... you know, cause we're all scared on the inside. And ... " She shrugged. "I want to make furs less scared."
Wren looked to her. "That's a really nice story ... "
"It's the truth."
"Oh, I know. I'm just ... saying it's nice."
"How about you?"
"Hmm?" Wren went.
"Why'd you get into what you ... do," she said, gesturing a paw at him. "Why'd you want to become a captain?"
Wren thought for a moment. "I like pulling furs together. Like ... pulling them together. To accomplish things. To ... I don't know. I had the drive, had the ambition, and ... I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to be bold."
"And are you? Do you feel bold?"
"I feel ... old. If anything ... "
She giggled. "You're not that old." He, like her, and like most of the furs on the crew ... they were all in their 20's ... however, furs had an average life-span of only 65 years. Which was a good decade or so less than most sentient species.
"I feel it. Sometimes, I feel it."
"You don't look it, and ... I don't think it," she responded.
She was so perfect. Is what he thought ... looking at her then.
Assumpta wandered the Promenade. Getting eyed by others. And eying them back. Most of the creatures on this station were furs. There were a few reptiles. A few insects. And a few truly alien creatures that the snow leopard has never seen.
After minutes of moving, she had reached the darker sections of the Promenade. The parts that catered to furs on the go. Catered to whims. Harder alcohol than was served in the upper levels. Drugs, even. It was the lowest level, and one almost had to stumble upon it to find it.
The rest of the crew-furs on Luminous would've been terrified to come down here, no doubt, the snow leopard thought. This was not a place to be unless you had verve. Unless you could defend yourself. And she most certainly could.
Not that she was down here for yiff.
Not that she was, but ... she didn't know why she was down here. Other than she was a predator. Her blood was hot. She needed to be away from all that prey. How maddening it was to be around prey all day, every day, and have to put up with their ways. Their weaknesses. She felt the need to vent. But ... so, she'd left her new friends ... and gone for this walk. And her senses had led her here.
Friends. The world echoed in her head. Were they her friends? Ketchy, Adelaide, Field ... it was Field who had asked the cat to come with them. To have a drink and something to eat. She wondered if Adelaide had put him up to it. Or if he and Adelaide were one and the same, now that their minds were ... "spiritually entwined," as the bat had put it. The whole thing was beyond the feline's belief or comprehension. Or care. If anything, the gushy way they went about their love was ... annoying. It irritated her.
Predators displayed affection. In private. It was bad form to show you cared in public. Because care was a weakness. Attachments were liabilities. It was why predator/prey romances rarely worked. It was always the same ... the prey thought they could tame the predator, and the predator thought they could mate the prey without hurting them (physically or emotionally). But the predator always ended up breaking the prey's heart. And neither party would understand what went wrong, and ...
Prey were wishy-washy.
Predators were not. Assumpta was not. She didn't pull her punches.
But she didn't know if those furs were "friends." They were the closest thing to friends she had, and when she expected them to leave her be, they kept trying to ... socialize with her. Kept trying to get to know her.
It was very confusing. Why would they do that? Why would they want to?
The snow leopard spotted a mouse. A white-furred mouse. The kind with the reddish eyes. He was slender, a bit effeminate, and ... he had died his head-fur shades of blue. Had slightly ruffled the fur, so that it looked a bit spiky ... and he was eying Assumpta.
The feline, bigger, more intimidating, stared back.
It was true ... predator/prey relationships rarely worked, but ... she wasn't needing a relationship right now ... and, from his body language, neither was he.
She nodded quietly. Holding the power here.
The mouse bit his lip as he grinned. He was scared. Oh, he was terrified. She could tell. But he knew she would protect him. A predator, during mating, would protect his or her partner ... would kill for their partner. When the coupling was over, and they parted ways ... the prey was on their own. But ...
Pushing the complications, the anthropological aspects aside, the cultural behaviors and inhibitions ... the leopard sidled up to the mouse. She was several inches taller.
"You have a room?" she assumed.
"Yeah," he said. Squeakily.
She nodded again.
He hesitated.
"You will have to take me there. I'm sure there are public indecency laws in effect ... even in this part of the station."
Oh, she was a cold one, realized the mouse. An ice queen. And her holy-white snow only proved to amp up the effect. Though her attitude seemed less holy than her color.
And the mouse wriggled through the crowd. Heart spiking with the anticipating thrill.
"Where did she go?" Adelaide asked, scanning the Promenade. Squinting.
"I don't know," Field responded honestly. "She can take care of herself, though. I'm sure."
"Yeah, but ... she needs warmth. She needs ... friendship," Adelaide continued, clearing her throat, shaking her head. Sighing. "I'm afraid she's out selling her soul. I don't think she knows what love is ... what warmth is."
"I don't know," Field said again. Only adding, "She scares me. She's dangerous." He did a little shiver. "I don't wanna intrude in her ... life. I don't want her mad at me."
"Like I'm gonna let her hurt you?" Adelaide posed.
"Field," interrupted Ketchy, more tipsy than before. And standing beside them. "You are SUCH a mouse. Your femme bat needs to protect you from ... big, scary cat? Come on ... "
Field twitched.
"Leave him alone," Adelaide told the squirrel. Frowning at her.
"Yeah, you're so righteous," Ketchy responded. "You think me ... everything I say, you dismiss it."
"You haven't said anything of substance all night," Field added quietly. "You've been too busy drinking."
"Nothing wrong with drinking, mouse. You were drinking, too."
"Yeah, but I'm not drunk," he replied. With a bite.
Adelaide almost feared a fight would break out between the two. She stepped between them.
"Back off, bat."
"Ketchy," the bat bit, showing her fangs.
The squirrel was the one to back off. Inch by inch.
The sparse crowd (for it was nearing midnight) didn't seem to notice what was going on. Or maybe they did and were choosing to steer clear, lest they get embroiled in it, too.
"I like you. You're my friend, but ... whatever it is that's hurting you, either let us help you, or ... do what you want. Just stop being a jerk. You've been one all night."
The squirrel's eyes watered, and she shook her head. "Just ... just ... fuck off," she said. Not one to curse. "I mean, I ... assume that's what you two are gonna do when you leave me, right? Fuck?"
The mouse's ears burned pink.
"I don't know what she sees in you, Field ... you're SO awkward to be around."
The mouse's eyes watered now. He tried to ignore her.
The bat gave what sounded like a growl, showing her teeth ... more pointedly. Making a show of it. Spreading her wings a bit. Stepping in front of Field and lowering her gaze at Ketchy. "He's my mate," she reminded him. Her eyes fiercely protective.
"Yeah," Ketchy said. "Yeah, whatever ... I'm ... " She backed off, having lost the confrontation. And feeling dizzy. Feeling ... so, so tipsy. But she was well enough to walk. She panted. "I'll see you later ... leave me alone," she added shakily. Moving off.
Part of Adelaide wanted to follow her. Stop her from leaving. Console her. The squirrel was hurting. But, then, they all were ... they all had. In their own ways. And if the squirrel (like the snow leopard) was wishing to go it alone, then ...
"Darling," Adelaide whispered, turning to look Field in the eyes. Squeezing his paw. "Come on ... we'll go back to Luminous."
The mouse nodded, sniffling. Had been quietly, quietly crying ... he was a very emotional creature. Most mice were. It didn't take much to push them to tears. Some found mice annoying for this fact: their emotions. But Adelaide found Field to be refreshing. A million times over, she would choose the fur who allowed himself to feel, to deal with those feelings ... over the one who ignored them, buried them, or tried to distract them away.
Pink, blunt muzzle to the mouse's ear, she whispered, "You're very brave."
Field closed his eyes. Feeling foolish.
"Come on," she said again. "Let's go ... "
The mouse followed his mate ...
... and, now, after midnight, the lights dimmer, furs (all over the station and ship) began to simmer.
Assumpta's white, snowy, silky fur ... more exposed by the second. As the mouse wormed his paws beneath her attire.
The feline purred. Purred ... it had been a while. Since she'd done this. Since she'd realized she wanted this. And she so rarely got to couple with prey ... and the times she had, the few times she had, she had injured them. In her passion. In her throes. Prey were so weak. So weak ... so weak ... so ...
... squeak!
The huntress used a claw to tear off the white mouse's clothing ... leaving them both white-furred and bare.
The mouse hesitated. As if unsure what to do. She would've guessed, had she been given a guess, that he'd done this before. Yiffed before. But with males. Not femmes. She wondered if that should bother her, but it really didn't. If anything, it only aroused her more. So, he'd been dominated by male furs? Male predators?
That was nothing compared to being dominated by her ... her breath, her touch ... it could chill. Could erase any will to resist. She would have this mouse lapping from her paw. She would ...
... hesitate.
Back on Luminous, Rella would hesitate. Outside the door to her quarters. Nose-to-nose with Wren, whiskers brushing, dangling together, she hesitated for the briefest moment.
Before the kiss took place.
Before it warmed the surrounding space.
Wren sighed through the nose. At the scent of her. The surprise of her. The gratitude. And, head tilted, he kept the kiss going ...
And, when it broke, Rella leaned back against her door. Puffing out a breath. Flushing. And smiling shyly. "Um ... heh ... "
Wren, paws on her arms, stuttered, "Did I, uh, do something ... wrong ... "
"No," she whispered. "No." She shook her head. "I just ... I never expect first kisses to be very pleasant. I never expect them to be ... " She rested her forehead against his. "That comfortable."
"We can't do this, can we?" he asked. There was a sign of resignation in his voice.
"We can," she whispered. Certain. "We can ... but ... not right now." Her voice caught, paused. "Not tonight. I ... too fast."
He nodded. He understood, and ... entirely agreed. He had said himself (many times) that he didn't do casual. It never worked out. And he didn't want to ruin this with her by taking it too fast, turning it into something casual.
"I had a lovely supper, and ... I hope that wasn't a goodnight kiss, cause ... I won't be able to will myself to sleep now. I won't be able to go goodnight."
He chuckled.
She giggled, arms wrapped around his back. She looked up into his eyes.
"Thank you ... "
"For what?" she asked, eyes glinting, glowing.
"Well, for ... " The squirrel smiled back. "Got me tongue-tied now. Don't know what I ... need to say."
She let out a breath. "That's okay ... " She breathed back in. Eyes closed. Feeling content. If only this could last. This feeling. This moment.
"I guess we should ... "
"Yeah ... " She let go of him, leaning back, biting her lip. Nodding. "I'll see you in the morning? We never got to window-shop."
"I have some credits saved up. We can do more than window-shop."
"Yeah, but ... having something isn't the same as wanting it. Once you have it, it loses something."
"What about ... this? What if we have this?"
"Love is different. It's the ultimate adapter."
He smiled. "I guess so ... "
"See you in the morning, then?" she asked again. Wanting to know. Needing to hear him say so. Luminous would be docked for another two days. She wanted to make the most of this time. Get closer to him before they returned to the void, to the stars, to the mysteries that seemed to be weaving webs of intrigue all around them.
"Yeah," he whispered warmly. "You will. Goodnight." He lingered. And then backed away, and then ... left.
"Night-night," she called quietly after him. Sighing and leaning against her door. Closing her eyes. Allowing herself a waking dream. Allowing ...
... the unknown fur to keep on humping.
Ketchy wore a silly grin. Giggling ... on all fours. On the floor. Still wearing a shirt, but ... nothing below her waist. Not knowing where it had gone, or how long it'd been off ...
"Uhn ... oh ... fuck ... "
Oh, she felt so hot. So warm. Her blood was burning, and her body ached, and desire swam in her head. And she groaned, closing eyes and hanging her head. Her knees were a bit sore. She hadn't wanted to do doggy-style. She hadn't ... she hadn't known what she wanted. Oh, she was ... tipsy ... and giggling as she was drove into. As hips and groin were grinding to her back-side ... her legs open. To let the male in. Whoever he was.
There was a thrill about this ... a firework of a thrill. She didn't know his name. Couldn't clearly picture his face. Didn't even know what species he was, only that ... he must be a canine. A wolf, a dog ... maybe that's why he'd wanted doggy-style? She giggled at this. Canines were so silly. Canines were so ...
"Huhnn ... huh ... "
... big, so ... hungry. But he didn't have a knot. He must, then, be a fox? Did foxes have knots? No ... he must be a fox ...
And paws wrapped around Ketchy's belly. Under her breasts, on her belly. Hugging, rubbing ... pulling at her. Holding to her for support and grip. Felt so sharply good ...
And she whimpered out ... in a haze, mind in a daze, she whimpered out. Even through the alcohol, she could feel this. Her warm, wet sex ... and his. The firm, blood-swelled piece of flesh that was ... making her feel weak. That was making her squeak.
The immediate air smelled of sweat. Of fur. Of musk.
The lights were blinking. Like strobes. White, blue ... they kept changing colors. Kept ... changing ...
"Uhmm! Uh, uhh ... huh, huh!"
The male had his orgasm, sowing his semen into her, shuddering from release. And leaving his spiritual imprint (for yiff was a spiritual act) on yet another willing femme ... and he growled and laughed, very pleased. Very, very pleased, and Ketchy was so close to hers! So, so close ... to her own.
"Oh ... oh ... p-please," she slurred. Needing it. "Oh ... "
But the male didn't give it to her. Having gotten his own, he pulled out, firmness bobbing, glistening wet. He sank back onto his rump. Huffing. Squeezing the squirrel's rump. Panting, he said, "Sorry, doll ... all spent. Heh ... you're a piece of tail, though ... heh ... "
Ketchy, dizzy, still drunk, panted on the floor. Head hurting. And she, feeling liable to throw up, fished for her clothes. Where were her ...
... clothes. In a pile on the floor. By the bed.
In the bat's quarters on Luminous. Even though they were mates now, and spiritually bonded, they still had separate quarters. Though they spent most of their off-time in hers.
And, though bare, though very aware of each other's desire, of the burning, passionate fire ... neither made the move to yiff.
They lay there. Snuggled. So snug.
His nose was on her neck. The side of her pink, soft neck. He nosed her nosily, as mouses do, sniffing. Small sniffles of her scent. Breathing in, deeply, slowly ... and letting it out. Loathe to let it out. And breathing back in.
And her paw was on his bare, slender side. Her wings were draped over him.
Field's foot-paws, his toes, gently, so gently ... moved up and down the arches of her own foot-paws. He loved to touch foot-paws in bed. It was something she'd come to find. It was, to her, such a sweet, delicate action, so innocent. The stray furry toes ... on her furry foot-paws, rubbing an inch this way, and an inch that way. Touching so gently. At the same time their paws clung to each other's fur.
"I love you," Field whispered. Breaking the silence. But his words so airy, so full of wonder, so full of breath ... that it complimented the silence perfectly. So, instead of breaking it, his words, his confession ... made the silence swell. Turning it into a blanket. Which was draped over them in this room. Under the steady, small hum of the ship's power core.
And Adelaide's response, dreamy, was, "I love you, too ... " She breathed deep. "Oh, my mate ... "
The mouse's eyes watered. But he didn't cry. He simply smiled with eyes closed. Warm, furry form nestled to hers. In the softness of the sheets. In the freshness of this air. Recuperating from all the wars of his past. All his losses and stumbles. Healing here, in this air.
And her mind brushed his ... the perimeters of his. And he, without hesitation, let it in. Let her in. Her mind flowing into his, and his ... flowing back through hers. Feeling each other's love. More strongly than words. Feelings enhanced.
Adelaide, nightly, had been teaching Field how to hone his newfound telepathic abilities. And he was getting better. No longer was he having surreal dreams and sudden, vivid bursts of information. He was controlling it all ... she was helping him to see.
They closed their eyes, and they began to fall asleep, feeling as one ...
As close as two furs could be. As in love as they could be. As ...
... Assumpta, clothed (and freshened ... she had insisted on taking a shower after the act; she was a strong believer in hygiene and presentation; and, besides, she didn't want the other furs' noses picking up on what she'd done; it was her business) ... clothed, she walked the barren Promenade.
Feeling nothing more than before. Feeling sated. Physically sated. But not feeling any more fulfilled or loose or happy ... than she had been a few hours earlier.
She paused, hearing sniffles. Squeaks. Like ... crying. Like someone crying. And she paused, peering into the dark, near the windows, near the benches near the oval windows that looked out at the asteroids and stars. Normally, the feline wouldn't have cared. Wouldn't have investigated. And, truth be told, she didn't know why she was doing so now. Only ...
"Assumpta?" A sniffle.
The snow leopard blinked. It was the tipsy squirrel. Ketchy. From dinner. And from the away team a few days ago. "Are you the source of the distress?" Assumpta asked blankly.
Ketchy cleared her throat, coughing a bit. And sniffled. Looking away. Not giving a response.
Assumpta should've left. She would've. She would've done that. That was what she normally did, but ... she stayed. And stood there.
Ketchy looked back up, bleary-eyed. Looking hung-over, perhaps. Looking a wreck. "What ... do you want, huh? Huh?"
"You are in distress," the snow leopard repeated.
The squirrel's whiskers twitched. She sniffled. "I wish I ... could blow my nose on something. You don't have any tissues, do you? Or a handkerchief?"
"No."
She sniffled. "Oh." Sniffle. "Doesn't matter ... " Her voice trailed. And she sighed. "I ... what are you still doing here?" she asked, changing the subject. Peering at the snow leopard. "It's, like, 2 AM ... "
"I was hunting," she replied. Enigmatically, but truthfully.
The squirrel's mind was too hazy to read into that. To understand what it meant. Replying seriously, "Well, as long as you had a license ... but I didn't know they kept primitive animals on the ... station." She coughed again.
The cat frowned. Confused. The squirrel was not "all there," as went the phrase. "Are you okay?" Assumpta asked. "What are you doing here?" she asked, returning the question.
Ketchy sighed. "Do I ... look okay?" she challenged. "I'm ... crying, is what I'm doing here ... "
"No, you do not look okay."
"You're blunt, you know that? I mean, I like that ... it's ... you don't mess around." Ketchy faltered. "I'm ... I did something bad."
The snow leopard took a careful seat next to the squirrel. Careful not to scare her. She knew, from experience, that prey could be jumpy.
Ketchy, voice breaking, voice quiet, said, "I ... I drank too much, and I ... I should've ... stopped. I don't know why I drank so much." Her eyes welled up. She'd been crying for the past twenty minutes, and ... she was doing so again. Crying as she talked. "I ... yiffed with a fur I didn't even know," she said, shaking, putting her paws over her mouth. To keep herself from hyper-ventilating. She shook.
The feline frowned. "Was it good for you?"
"G-good? What ... what ... I ... no!"
Assumpta recoiled.
"No, it was not good for me," stammered the squirrel, still crying, "and even if it had been ... I ... I've NEVER done that, Assumpta. I don't believe in doing that ... I ... it was so callous and ... there was no love behind it. It was just ... lust and instinct, and ... I feel like I was used. I feel like damaged goods now, and ... and I LET it happen. I did it. It ... my choices led to it, and ... " Her words trailed as her sobs took over.
The snow leopard was confused. She had done the same as the squirrel. Had engaged in yiffy intercourse. These two females ... having done the same thing. And one felt nothing. The other was falling to pieces. Assumpta couldn't understand. Said, "Yiff is a natural act born of a natural desire. When it's satiated, we feel better. When we have the chance, we should take it. It keeps us sharp."
The squirrel shook her head. "That's ... a cold, cold ... view. No, it's ... I feel like I gave myself away. A special part of myself. For what? For what, huh?" the squirrel demanded. "For a pleasure that wasn't as good as it needed to be ... as I needed it to be?"
"You're saying, had the yiff been better, you would not be crying?"
"No!" the squirrel replied, and she coughed again. Sniffled. "No ... " Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I gave the most precious thing I could give ... to a stranger. He took me, and ... it was animalistic. There was nothing civil or right about ... that." She cleared her throat. "I was ... I grew up ... I'm still religious, you know. I wanted what Adelaide and Field have. A spiritual bond. I ... I'm so lonely, and I ... and I never get a chance to drink, so ... when I had alcohol in front of me tonight, I had too much, and I ... let myself be seduced, and I ... it doesn't feel spiritual, what I did. This isn't what Field and Adelaide feel ... " She let out a breath, having stopped crying. But eyes still red. Head still pounding. "I'm so ... ashamed ... and ... and what if I caught some disease or something? Or what if he made me pregnant? I didn't ... it ... oh, I'm so stupid!" she growled. "I'm so ... stupid ... " She was in tears again. "Why did I do it?" She shook.
The feline frowned. The squirrel's distress, in turn ... distressing her. Which shouldn't be happening. Predators weren't supposed to empathize. Weren't suppose to be sympathetic. For predators, yiff wasn't about love. It was about expressing dominance. About satisfying desire. About pleasure. Love was one of those liabilities ... that could be used against you. That could trap you. And to see this squirrel so torn for her casual, love-less act ... put an inkling of doubt into the feline's mind about what she, herself, had done tonight.
Ketchy sniffled and leaned her head on the snow leopard's shoulder. "Assumpta, what do I do ... I feel so bad. My whole body hurts. My heart ... hurts," she managed.
Assumpta was momentarily speechless. No one ever asked her for advice. Much less prey.
"Assumpta?" Ketchy begged quietly, at a whisper. Sitting here in the dimness near the windows. Watching the asteroids spin, bobbing in space. Watching the lights on the ships.
"If you feel," Assumpta finally said, watching the same scenes the squirrel was watching, "that you made a mistake, then ... ask for forgiveness. We are flawed creatures. We make mistakes. Forgive yourself, learn from it ... and, in the future, you will be stronger. You will always bear the scars of your pains, but ... if you learn from the wrongs, then they have meaning. They ... make you into more. A gem is not polished without friction. As for your worry ... channel it into faith. And it won't be so cumbersome."
Ketchy silently listened. "That's ... maybe you're right," she whispered. She hesitated, and then twisted to wrap her arms around the snow leopard's neck. Saying in a squeaky, teary voice, "Thank you ... Assumpta. Thank you for being my friend. I ... said some really mean things to ... Adelaide and Field tonight. I was jealous, and they ... and I haven't treated you well, either. I haven't given you the time of day. I ... thanks for being here for me," she whispered, sniffling, still hugging her friend.
"You're ... welcome," the feline managed, perplexed, but ... feeling not so cold. All of a sudden. Feeling a bit warmer. Feeling ... something good. Feeling a lump in her throat.
The squirrel sniffled and let go of her. Asking, "Why ... why are you still here, anyway? You were hunting?"
"It was nothing," the feline replied.
The squirrel swallowed and nodded. "Okay ... "
"I'll take you back to your quarters. You need some rest. And some water. You may be dehydrated from your drinking."
Ketchy nodded weakly. "I guess it'll take a few days for me to ... forgive myself. How does one forgive themself, Assumpta?" she asked, standing. Walking with the feline back to the umbilical that Luminous was docked to.
The feline's answer: "One stops fighting herself."
The thin white-furred mouse with the reddish eyes and the blue-spiked head-fur ... walked through a dim, narrow corridor. Still smelling of yiff. Of feral leopard. On the outskirts of the station. Reaching a door, he entered a code, and the door opened. He stepped inside. Into the dark.
And melted back to his true form ... sighing. Mice were so squirmy. They twitched too much. He was glad to be out of that form. Back to his normal self (if his genetically-altered self could be called normal). And he, with his smooth, mysterious voice, still in the dark, activated a hand-held comm unit.
"Did you succeed?" the voice on the other end asked. Deep and sounding far, far away. Echoing, almost.
"The nano-probes entered her bloodstream with my semen. The homing beacons should stay active for a month. As long as she stays with that ship, we can track them from 10 light-years away. If she leaves the ship or dies ... we'll lose the signal."
"Good ... when they leave the station, follow them. Quietly. Observe them. Report to me on everything they do."
"I will ... "