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'Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom.'

-George S. Patton

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Chapter 7: 100 Miles More

>You felt a rolling of sensation bringing you back out of the lazing comfort of sleep, but you avoided moving, something was braced against you.

>The luminous gold of the morning hour fingered through the paint spot shade of trees outside, painting a collage of cool dusk and honeyed dawn across the eastern face of your humble fabric abode.

>The air carried a sweet pine smell as you gently alerted yourself. You craned your neck forward. You found him draped off to your side, his head nestled high on your chest, just short of your neck. Neither you or him had moved an iota, and his long breaths coasted through him under the guard of your arms.

>Content and pleasantly cool emotions crested your own horizon, all of last night was real. You hadn't been imagining any of it, the proof was right there.

>In a word, it was serene. You had managed a miraculous recovery of his trust, if only through... regrettable circumstance.

>It broke your heart to think this is what it took to snap him back towards you. You would keep your embrace over him locked, and hold him against you as long as needed. You care about nothing else at this point.

>You can't leave him on his own, in case he relapses into another flashback.

>Your nose picked up something in the air when you woke up last night, just as he was starting to stir in his sleep, and you realized. You can smell them coming, picking out the scent of distress on him.

>If only you knew what you were picking up before he slipped into it... you could have spared him from that agony.

>Your heart bleeds, and a soft whine creeps in your throat. You can't help but feel just a little responsible for letting him get like this.

>You WILL make up for it. You can heal him, it just needs the right approach, and you think you've narrowed onto the correct path.

>Stay around his scent, and you can pick out anymore signs of trouble and stamp them out. So he doesn't have to suffer like this again.

>But you have to be close for that to work, so you'll stick by him, at least for today. You have to fix him.

>You were making progress, how he ran to you for refuge proved it, but how could you know if he was actually improving?

>Sure he trusted you, very completely judging by how he fell asleep practically on top of you, but so far it had only been you.

>You can't stand over him all the time, you need to try and root out his fear, or at least dampen it so he can function on his own.

>Having him be latched onto your hip out of paranoia is no way to go about this. If you allow him to grow too dependent on you, then you can never know for sure if he sticks by you out of desperation or affection.

>You want to build him back up, not chain him to you.

>But for now you'll shelter him without relent, he still has to make a recovery from the hell he must have been put through last night.

>You would watch his face for any sign of distress, but it's a bit too close to pan down towards without risking accidentally waking him with an errant brush of your snout.

>Watching his back, his breathing seems healthy, and you aren't picking up anything unusual off his scent.

>Nothing seems to be wrong, let him get his rest. You recline your head back into your pillow and watch the collage of morning lights dance on the tent as the wind shifts the trees.

>The combined scents of the verdant life outside and the receiver of your affections was comforting. For a moment it's like you could just slip into thinking that it's just the two of you out here, and nothing else could possibly go wrong.

>No war, no screaming, no death and despair, wouldn't that be just perfect?

>You mentally roll eyes at yourself for your fanciful idealism, pretending the war isn't happening is the idiot's solution.

>You're almost dozing off as you feel him brushing against your side with a shifting, and you remember not to be willfully ignorant of him.

>He needs you to support him right now. Even if you managed to lull him back into sleep last night, you aren't letting him go until he can shrug this burden off of his back.

>He's starting to wake up, and you brace yourself for how ever much more he will need to get off his chest.

>You might very well be the only refuge he has left in his eyes, so you can't disappoint.

<Tom>

>Slowly everything crawled back to you, and your eyes slotted open like the firing slats of a pillbox, hesitant to let in the morning eyesore.

>From your blurred reconnoiter of the nearest wall, you can confidently say that the morning sun has an awfully garish way of painting camo.

>You steadily realize one side of your head is far warmer than the other, and you have your arms wrapped around a wide mass of muscle and fur.

>Right, you fell asleep on top of her as she kept you from falling apart.

>Your heart is being carried along on a diet of duct tape and slap dash riveting, even now every quiver threatens to shake it apart again.

>Her very presence seems to be helping with that, that flowery smell radiating from her fur keeps you lashed to the present. Her enormous arms are an extra chain locked over your back to keep you from slipping off.

>You would have at least recovered control of your arms if your hands weren't pinned under her back, realizing you had slept like this was kind of.. embarrassing.

>Who the hell likes sleeping in a girl's embrace right? It's supposed to be the other way around, but... she's different.

>Here was a woman that could kick your ass in too many ways to count, but she was gentle and sheltering. Somehow the fact she was so strong made it mean so much more.

>She used that power to shield you, to hold you together. To try and fix you, despite how hopeless that may end up being

>You had reached to her in a mad gambit to pull yourself back together, and it warmed you to think that she was willing to help.

>Still, Even remembering traces of last night have your heart bending in pain, and you find what little strength you have focused on stopping it from breaking.

>As much as you would like to walk under your own power so to speak, you can't do that. You have to rely on her, and cross your fingers that she will hold you together.

>You Tepidly start raising your head, expecting to find her staring with a disapproving glare for how thoroughly you revealed your soft, broken self.

>A cold spot nested into the side of your head and pushed it upwards, and you came face to face with her as her snout retreated a few inches.

>Her gorgeous cobalt lakes wore unmasked concern as they scanned over you, narrowing in towards anything wrong.

>"Hey"

>She speaks in a gentle whisper, even her voice is restrained for your care now.

>"You alright?" Would she pick up and leave if you said yes? The thought of being left alone is terrifying, and prompts a longing to find a way to bury into her deeper.

>Your throat felt as if it was choking on nothing, and the uncertainty over the question plucked at a sensitive chord.

"I... I-I. I don't-"

>You try to meter your breath as your gaze turns downwards. You don't think you can even will yourself to leave her embrace right now.

>"Shhhh. Take all the time you need."

>She raises slightly, and with the pressure on your hands abated, you slide your embrace upwards. You push upwards and bring your head into the side of her neck as your frail heart jumps.

"Thank you... Thank you so much."

>Your breath comes sporadically as you shield yourself from memory, and she does her model best to keep you rooted to the spot.

>There is a slight rise in her breath, and you feel her muzzle crossing the back of your head as she tightens her hold over you.

>Just to be held like this, it's stirring something in you, something you haven't known for a long time, security.

>You can stay here, she won't let you down. You can stay.

>"I never got to say thank you for what you did for me... That.. time in the rain, and standing against Vilka. So, thank you too."

>"I never had to ask you." That she didn't. She saved your life, and you saved hers. She was something more than just an anthro, and you cursed at yourself for not seeing that.

>She held true to her word, and she didn't budge an inch as you rested against her, slowly collecting yourself and steadying your breath.

>You have no care for the time or what else the day may call for you to do, you're content to just have her hold you close.

>You don't bother with even keeping count anymore, it's good just to rest and let yourself be propped up by this mass of fur and warmth.

>The breathing silence of the breeze is quaint, for a while. Your heart is starting to tug you towards speaking with her as it knits itself back into a complete object.

>What can you even say to her that you haven't already? But your heart isn't content with that option, and the lurching thing under your chest prods at you like her muzzle. It's time to get this off your chest, you have to talk.

"Teth'ra..."

>Just the thought of bringing it up again prompts a broiling of emotion to swell beneath you, an ocean of misery prime to swallow you.

>It shows in the quaver of your voice, you're too weak to hide it.

>Her response is almost immediate. With a soft whine she tightens her embrace over you, reminding you that you aren't alone.

>A paw gently glides up and down your back, a soothing touch to keep you grounded. You aren't sure if you should press on, even with her here, remembering may send you into another fit of hysterics. Just how pathetic are you?

>"What's wrong?"

>You can't keep going on just holding this in, it will tear you apart. You have to talk, but you feel regret over loading her down with this burden.

"You wouldn't want to know it... I just can't burden anyone else with this."

"But I can't just keep it in either."

>Tears well in your eyes yet again, and you clutch at her fur to keep them at bay.

"I don't know what to do."

>"This isn't a burden, it's a toxin. Let me help you.." She slides her hand up your back, gliding it around your neck and prying you away from her neck.

>She raises your head, and soon you're staring right down the barrel of her muzzle as her eyes catch you with that feverish magnetism.

>She pleads softly, and it breaths into your heart. "Let me in."

>The heart jitters. How does she keep doing this?

>It's coming together, and it pushes you to confess. You need someone, someone to understand, someone to sympathize, and someone to share that pain with.

>She's that someone, for what you are she has been so accepting. It's all coming back, the trust, the reliance, and the wish to do right by her.

>You clamor to return to that companionship, because now your legs are shot out from under you and you need someone to carry you for a change.

>To help you walk.

>You refuse to fall behind, you will pull as much of your weight as you can manage, to ease the weight on her.

-you're staring at her-

>Right, sustained eye contact is probably pushing it, but it's all too easy to become lost in those shimmering azure gems.

>You manage to peel away your gaze and start to rise on your own, her grip loosens, but never stops supporting you.

>It's a nice gesture, but you at least want to start coasting out under your own steam before you inevitably hit a mine and sink. So you manage to pull away from her grip and swing your legs out, settling onto the side of the cot with her behind you.

>A heavy sigh drags out, trailing a procession of barbed words to scrape your throat not far behind it.

>Briefly you find your support falling from out under you, and in a stir you latch onto the rail of the cot. Looking about yourself you find that it's just Teth'ra stirring upwards into a sitting position while throwing off her covers, as if the very land under you had moved.

>Sometimes it's easy to forget how big she is.

>The cot itself seems intent to ruin what little remains of the tranquility, seeming to shriek as Teth'ra crosses her legs over themselves and settles in at your back.

>You can feel her watching as she sits at your back, scrutinizing you for... something. You honestly can't guess at what it is she's looking for, but you hope she's looking over you for any more signs of distress.

>Today is already a terrible morning.

>The pull under the chest leads you on again like your sense of self is tied to some emotional chain. It's time to talk.

"My unit... meant everything to me."

>It comes again in an angry swell, trying to mire you in despair. Like the thing that haunted you in the dream is alive.

>You're ready for it's approach and you brace as the reality hits you again, they're dead.

"Why? Why did they have to be taken from me?"

"It was just a simple patrol.... how did it go so wrong?"

>Your chest jumps, and you fight back against the hammering on your ribs. The pain is still fresh.

>A paw lands gently on your shoulder, and you tense. She seems so much like a sapient dog at times, so ready to help quell your emotions with a soft touch.

>She sighs with the undertone of a gentle whine, and you expect the inevitable apology, because nobody ever wants to get personally involved in your loss.

>You heard it more than enough times after gravecall, every figure looking down at your sullen face and simply saying it over and over, 'Sorry for your loss'. Every time they said it in passing, feigning sympathy. They never knew them, and were too cowardly to try and understand why it all threatened to drown you.

>"Who were they?" It catches you off balance, and what little resolve you were standing on crumbles.

>It hammers your ribs with a powering sob, and the tears flow as they spring from a fresh leak in your eyes.

>So much for moving under your own power.

>It squeezes on your lungs as you take great shuddering gasps, trying to keep from crying out, immediately she responds.

>She shifts, and you fall back into her as she locks her arms over your chest.

>You've fallen back into the rapids, still rushing after your dam was split open. Once again she's at your back, keeping you from being swept away.

>She pulls you in close to her, and like the sweetest clockwork, she does it again.

>"shhhh. It's okay... Let it out." It's beyond your control as you fail to see any reason not to follow her words.

>It makes more and more sense, maybe you should just let it out. Let the pain fly free even if it tears open your chest, she'll put it back together.

>Let those barbed confessions scrape up your throat, her sweet words will heal your cuts.

>Let the great sorrow rush out all at once so it no longer plagues you in the future, she's your net to keep you from being swept off the edge.

>The clear crystalline heat of your tears rolls over your cheeks, as your sanguine core wheels around its chains like a beast possessed.

>And so you cry, you cry out for those lost, because you remember who they are, you remember they meant so much more to you.

"th-they were my family!"

"And that bastard stole them!"

>What little is left in your lungs surges out as you cry out, in some vain hope that they could hear you, that they were here, to somehow comfort you from the eternal night.

>It starts coming back as the levee upstream shatters, and you brace against the wave, to ease the burden on her.

>But it crashes over you, threatening to knock you off what little footing you have left. It comes in memories.

>A smiling face with gentle eyes and a shock of hazel hair. Echoing laughter and an empathetic soul. He wanted to make people happy.

>Crisp days where you could find him on the limb of an old oak, curled up with history, religion, culture, and comedy.

>He would even lend you pieces from his collection sometimes as the two of you dozed in the shade with naught but conversation and a good book.

>Because he wanted you to forget, to find joy.

>He always so curious how people find ways to continue on, and his own story had been closed, whisked away on a scream and hellfire.

"Vincent!"

>...

"h... H-he just. He wanted everyone's spirits up. He was so scared! I couldn't save him!"

>a distant barking crash threatens to have your heart flying apart again. The haunting memories won't leave you, because the accusations stare from the shadows, again and again.

>'it's --- your fault.'

>'your fault.'

>'YOUR FAULT!'

"I didn't see that bastard in time! He took him apart, PIECE BY FUCKING PIECE!"

"...I couldn't save him."

"He got caught in the arm, and then his left ammo rack blew."

>The memory is still painfully fresh, recalled in perfect clarity from your terror last night.

"Pinned in to his auger by shrapnel... h-he was screaming and crying, trying to keep himself still."

"But he ju-j... He just couldn't keep himself still, the bastard zeroed in on him, and he took his sweet fucking time torturing him through a fucking scope."

>Kask's cries and screams were so childish and pleading, a voice to the terror gripping at all of you that day. He was reduced to a child crying for home.

"The motherfucker was trying to bait us.. and-and it fucking worked. He pleaded and pleaded, the captain was yelling at me not to go but I was going to rush out anyway."

>When he finally found his courage, to hold on a little longer, to make you stop and think before throwing your life away. It shattered your heart.

>Somehow you knew then, both of you knew, he was going to die. You tried so hard to deny it.

"He called out to me. And I stopped... Vince. h-he.. He asked me, what home looks like. I swear He knew!"

"He knew he was going to die, so.. so he just. He wanted me to talk to him, because I know h-he just wanted me to be able to move on!"

"... So I told him, I told him what I wanted... What would have made me happy."

"To try and make his last moments comfortable."

>That idyllic little picture of home, a stupid little dream that was just that, a dream. A heartache that pulled at you with the impossibility of it.

>It was a fantasy, a place where the war doesn't exist... a place of peace.

>"What did you tell him?" Her concerned voice comes from above you and you feel her core briefly tense at your back. As your sadness made you shrink into yourself, she had curled around you. You barely even noticed.

>Your huddled self was framed against her middle. Her enormous legs had raised up, and entangled with yours to shield you against her. Her strong arms had locked close over you, even her chest seemed to pitch in with isolating you from the outside world.

>You were thankful for this more than anything, nobody could see past her at just how pathetic you are, as you scream for comfort and weep like a child. No one is here to hear you except for her, she's the only one you would trust to see you at your lowest.

>Her words call back to you, and you remember... one of the last things you got to say.

"I told him to find home."

"And then the shot came in through his back... AND HE WAS GONE!"

>You wept bitterly for him, your body withdrawing into itself in some confused response to try and protect you. However it tried, the hurt was on the inside.

>Even as you choked on your salted sorrow, a silk touch started gliding up and down, slowly, rhythmically... soothingly. Your dry rasping gasps start to smooth over.

>Turning your head inward, you feel the flush warmth of her core on your cheek. A softness is here, hiding in plain sight, the trim plush of her fur hides just the slightest amount of give backed by an iron strength. A blanket of comfort over a protective heart.

>Her gentle petting provides a stem to the flow, to meter it out so as not to overtake you.

>You listened, trying to find something to time your breathing, to help calm yourself, and you found it, in her.

>The steady beat of a strong heart. It sounds just as you imagined it, strong but gentle, just like her.

>"Is this how you're going to remember him?" The words stir at you like a biting serpent. What is that supposed to mean?

>Her voice is gentle and pleading, but the phrase carried a lilt of accusation. She speaks again as her voice breathes in from above you.

>"You said it yourself, he would have wanted you to be happy, to move on." How can you move on? You failed him, you failed all of them.

"But he's gone, my optics were on the fritz... If I had just seen the bastard sooner."

-'Listen to me'-

-'I-

>"It's NOT your fault." A wash of emotion fans over you, the words made manifest into a wave that pulls something out of you.

>You feel some pressure has been lifted off your bleeding heart, and she's the one holding it away from you. Is this what she meant when she mentioned a toxin?

>How does she keep doing this?

>"I know you. you would have done everything you could to save them." The pull on your chest seems to solidify, you can't find the words to speak.

>"When I lost my brother, I spent years mired in the thought that I somehow failed him, that I didn't do enough."

>"I gave my all trying to help him, but there was just too much working against me. I tried, and I did as best I could."

>"And even though he's gone. I know he would understand, that there was just no saving him."

>She gently pushes you upright, sprawling out of her cradling embrace. She pins a hand to your shoulder, and as she sits you upright, she catches your eyes in her own.

>"They would understand, you just had too much working against you." You feel like you've been hit in the chest, it's that tension of something being pulled from you snapping as the cords are cut. And it brings realization, she's right.

>Shame pulls your head low and weighs down on your wounded heart, holding this in had done you no favors. You never gave yourself time to grieve.

>And because you were too damn stubborn to address it, you hurt her, and you burdened her.

"You're too good for me."

>"hm?"

"I'm a complete fucking mess... and you just swoop in from nowhere and fix me, or at least try."

>"I think it's safe to say I'm a bit of a mess too. I didn't have to ask you for help, you just did it. That's why I stick around you, Tom. Because I know that there's a good person buried under all of this pain. I'm trying to help you out of it."

>Looking back up at her, her eyes betray a sadness and empathy, but her warm smile leaks pleasant feelings into you.

>Half the time she doesn't need words to help, and she demonstrates the other half, leaning down and pulling you in to a hug.

>Feeling her against you like this brings some stirring warmth inside you, she capitalizes on her therapeutic affection by gently rubbing along your spine.

>The touch drags out more of your sorrow, the tide is finally coming to a stop. She gives a few reaffirming pats high towards your shoulder, and just holds you close from there.

>Your heart leaps high to return her generous affection, so you thread your arms under her and wrap them about her body. It's a bit of a stretch to clasp your hands on her back, but somehow her size makes you feel safer.

>Your jaw settles onto her collar, and the feeling prompting you to share had you speaking from the heart.

"Thank you."

>You're recalled to that first night as a light whine leaks out of her throat, she's making no effort to hide it.

>"Seems all we end up doing is crying at eachother. I understand what you're going through, I really do, but this is no way to live."

>"I need you to help me.. So I can help you."

>"Take your time when it's quiet, you need to grieve. I won't ask for any specifics, but you have to understand I'm willing to help."

>Her chest rises under you as she breathes deep.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to do right by you."

>You wanted to make up for it, because some logical connection had you worried that you were wearing thin on her patience.

---

<Teth'ra>

>You finished lacing your boots as you sat on the edge of your cot. Tom had managed to piece himself into a workable shape with your help, but something pulls at you.

>You watch as he meanders his way through the morning routine, and the tug at the back of your head jogs at you more and more.

>Watching his movements tells you that as collected as he is right now, he's still harboring that fear.

>That fear that so railed against you and your efforts, that saddened you to think he may not see you in the light you desire him to.

>Sure, he was kind and functional when you were around him, but that was the problem, it was ONLY you.

>Every other anthro he seemed to mistrust and panic around, and that reminder of the incident yesterday placed a sting under your breast.

>You had harbored such bitter resentments for the rest of the platoon that you had kept him in isolation like some prized token.

>You took on that responsibility of his integration and eventual recovery on your own since you didn't believe any of the others would be of help, they certainly weren't of help to you.

-But look what happened when you weren't there-

>You can't be everywhere at once, you had failed him, yourself, and your squad.

>...

>This isn't working.

>Keeping him like this would just reinforce his loyalty to you without solving the root of his most predominant problem.

>And then how many times would something like yesterday happen again and again? Continuing on like this would only hurt the both of you.

>At this point the worry bit at you harshly, what if he's not even salvageable? As genuine as he is around you, if he can't set aside that damnable poison coloring his perceptions, then he's just going to drag you down.

>The guilt nipped at you as your thoughts turned to your other responsibilities, a rift was forming between yourself and your squad.

>You had snapped at them for a mistake they didn't know they were making, because you didn't tell them about him. Because you were so insistent keeping him alone with you was the best course of action.

>And you expected them to act in accordance with your wishes and his mental health. And then raged at them for an honest mistake.

>You weren't acting like the leader you told yourself you would be, you were acting like Vilka.

>What a model NCO you turned out to be...

>He inspected himself in a pocket mirror as you ran a brush between your ears. The beginnings of a mane were there, it had been a while since you trimmed.

>And now you paused with a soft sigh, pulling the brush around and looking at the noticeably longer hairs. A mane was a statement that you're the alpha.

>But do you deserve it?

>Your ears sink, and a heavy weight weighs your decision towards no. You had always told yourself that you would let your mane grow out when you had finally gotten yourself into a better position, when you had made yourself into a better person than that mange-maned cunt.

>Thinking back and placing yourself in the footpaws of the twins or even Julia greeted you with the overlaying question. How would you feel if Lyudmilla had someone like Tom hidden away that she never told you about?

-jealous-

>No, that was your personal standing do to your maddeningly one-directional affections.

>You would feel confused, bitter, and angry. What faith you had in your new sergeant would be shaken. You would be asking why she decided to keep this problematic man's existence off the table until you ran face first into a confrontation.

>Above all you would be resentful she considered some racist wreck more important than the cohesion of her squad, which would widen the fractures running between you.

>That word mentally sounded off in you, prompting a soft shudder 'feral'

>You NEVER wanted to hear that word out of his mouth again.

>You're going to fix this.

>You looked back up to see him continuing his grooming. That odd patch of fur clinging around his jaw, a.. 'beard' you think it's called if you're remembering right, is being rather carefully tended to with a straight razor.

>The thing made him look strangely palatable to you, but you were thankful he saw fit to keep it short, the thought of a human with long fur made you want to giggle.

>Now you mentally compared his face fur to his problem, both of them would grow out of control without some trimming towards the roots.

>You needed a suitable razor to trim away the more extant and wild flares of his bad side, you couldn't do it on your own.

>Your squad was now discordant with you, and he was becoming inexcusable, but you think you're rounding on a method to bite both problems in the bud at once.

>You run the brush back over the startings of your mane roughly, you would decide if you would let it grow or trim it off again depending on how this goes.

>Throwing the brush back into your open footlocker and kicking the lid shut, you're pretty much ready to wander around the base.

>You stand as he inspects his handy work in the mirror. Looking closely, what few wild problem hairs had risen above the rest had been smoothly cut off, leaving him with a cleaner, sharper trimming of that delightfully odd face fur.

>That seals it, you're going to do some trimming of your own and get his more wild compulsions curbed before they ever raise a problem again.

>He's coming with you, and he's going to apologize. If he doesn't want to, doesn't see how much he could hurt you and others with this, then he's beyond repair.

>Guilt presses on you with how you're about to do this, but this is the best option for him. He looks so small, even as your hunched over to keep from hitting your head.

"Ya done?"

>"erm. Yeah, what's.. uh, going on?"

>This was going to seem awfully spur of the moment, but you keep to your new conviction. This is what's best for everyone, including him.

"Come on."

>You nail both of your hands onto his shoulders and urge him out of the tent, the fresh air greets you as you step out with a ruffling of your fur.

>At first he's hesitant to move but he goes along as you gently reminded him of your strength, but you have to swallow a worry creeping up your throat, you may be scaring him with how sudden this is.

>No, this.. This is what's best. You can't hide him away, and you can't neglect your squad, you have to make up for yesterday, you can't let yourself be like her.

>You continue shuttling him along at your side, even as he sputters in confusion. For now, you've settled for pushing him along with a single hand at the base of his neck, but he doesn't seem very happy with your lack of explanation.

>"Teth'ra? Where are we going?" The concern is evident in the quaver of his voice, it pulls at you to stop, but maybe you should scare him, just a little, to help prompt him into coming with you.

>But it would be cruel to just leave him in the dark, and your heart pushes the words out to help illuminate the situation for him, so he understands and just comes with you rather than continue being difficult.

"We're going to apologize."

>"For what?!" The punch of the statement punches you, and you caught something building under your breast. Were you seriously about to growl at him?

>You hold your snout in the other direction as you walk, trying to reign in your frustration, and hoping he doesn't notice the agitated bristling of your tail.

>Every sentence you're trying to form at the moment starts with an expletive or some accusing question. You don't want to curse him out, you want him to understand.

>"Teth! You're scaring me!"

-This isn't working, stop!-

>You stop, forcing him into this wouldn't make it genuine or right, but those words seem to cut at you.

>It pulls at you deeply. How can he say that?! You've had him in your arms with the utmost trust. He let you carry him, you had never felt so complete, so trusted, so... accepted.

>No! Get a hold of yourself girl! He's not entirely at fault here, that idiot cat set him off, but it's so damn frustrating to think that you had been doing this wrong the whole time.

>But despite the tearing at your heart, you have to let him know he's done wrong, make him understand.

>You turn him to face you and finally withdraw your paws from his shoulders. You square your shoulders, and fight off any doubt in your eyes.

>Inhale, count to four, exhale

>You have to put your foot down.

"I want you to come with me. To apologize to my squad."

>He raised a brow and one of the corners of his mouth dragged down, your ear twitched as you hoped dearly he wasn't going to challenge you on this.

>"What do I have to say sorry for? They intruded on me!"

"Because I didn't tell them about you. They didn't know better!"

>He scowls, and your heart sinks further as you start questioning if you were wrong about him.

>"That fucking pride flower was more than keen to try and attack me anyway!"

>As disappointed as you were with Feldspar, you don't believe she would just attack unprovoked like that. She would have stains on her record that you would have been notified of immediately were that the case, it just didn't make sense. But his paranoia didn't have him seeing reason.

"She was just some speciest dumbass that decided to go scare the skinjob for laughs!"

"And do you even think that I didn't see her in the wrong too?! I gave her a bruise on the stomach that's likely going to have her eating cautiously for a week!"

>The beating under your chest pleads with you to make him understand why his fear is just going to hurt him, and you. Because you know now that not everyone is going to keep their distance.

"Why do you even think she targeted you in the first place? You were being combative with the twins, she saw a speciest idiot, and that gave her all the excuse she needed!"

>His face flashes briefly in a sneer, he looks taken aback. The perceived insult to him has you wondering: where's the man you bonded with? The man that refused to leave you when you were splitting yourself open over your torturous younger days, where is he?

>This isn't him!

>"Combative?! I just wanted them the hell out of my gantry!" How can he not see it? something in you stirs up and snarls with a heat gripping under your chest.

"TOM, You're fear makes you a TARGET!"

>He pauses, shrinking back, and you gaze into his eyes. They're fearful.

>Your heart plummets thinking that you did this to him, and you finally let you resolve soften.

>As mad as you are with his refusal to acknowledge his wrong doing, you're still his friend, you just want to help.

>You just need a sign that the friend you grew infatuated with is still in there, and you can dig him back out. Not just for yourself either, but for his own sake too.

"I don't want you to be scared anymore..."

>He seem to take pause, eyes flicking downward. A frown purses your muzzle as you try to explain your reasoning.

"There is no possible way for me to be in easy reach all the time. I'll HAVE to leave you on your own sometimes, and I can't accept you acting like this when I do."

>The idea that he could be sent into another panic attack when you're nowhere nearby to help is terrifying, and it almost happened yesterday.

>The possibility had you pleading with urgency, both to yourself to fix him, and to him to make him understand.

"What if I wasn't there to snap you out of it? What if it got violent? I don't want a repeat of this because every time it happens someone could get hurt!"

>He blows a hearty sigh, then turns himself back upwards to look up at you, the collage of shadow from the trees painting odd patterns across the scowl he wore.

>"Well it's damn obvious that me and them don't get along, so maybe you should just tell them to stay away from me."

"How?"

>"How am I supposed to know? Order them or something."

>His once charming inflection is wearing on you, it sounds more sardonic rather than witty right now.

>Ordering them away was the exact sort of thing Vilka tried to do with you, and it would only make things worse.

>Surely he can see how unhelpful that would be, but your heated tongue pushes to remind him that you can't work miracles.

"Okay. So I give them this asinine order to keep away from you, and they follow it. But someone else decides to fuck with you because you stare at everyone like they're going to murder you. What then?"

>He seems to freeze halfway between anger and surprise, and you take advantage of his lapsed concentration to reinforce your point.

"I don't have jurisdiction over everyone Tom! I can't safeguard you all the time!"

>His frown deepens and his brow lowers, as he quickly pulls in breath before you can think up anything to maybe placate him.

>"I don't see why any of them have to bother me! I'll keep to myself, and they can keep to their own."

>Now it was your turn to scoff, your lips stood parted in brief astonishment, but he continued before you could speak.

>"We've been doing absolutely fine, so what's even the point? Long as they leave me alone I can stay out of trouble. I'm not some walking hotspot!"

>Your voice is raised in ire, he needs to see that you've made a mistake, that this isn't what's better for him.

>Your heart twists as the anxiety starts flooding from your jaw.

"What do you think I've been doing?! All this isolation... It's only been making you worse! This isn't working! I know I didn't have the best of company to choose from before, but I've been trying!"

>Gods know you've been trying...

"Let me help you by helping me... I've only wanted to help."

>Your heart starts to climb from your throat as you bare it for him to see in the shade of these trees. Being completely honest with this seems to be the best way you can think of to reach a solution, to communicate and let your heartaches be known.

"We both fucked up yesterday, we have to own up to that. And right now I'm questioning if I was wrong about you."

>He stares as his breath catches midway up his throat, and you let your saddened gaze pierce through his own eyes, goaded on by some primal instinct to share your pain.

>His shoulders sink as he seems to struggle with finding something to say, but your heart still twists, and the words bleed from it like a wet rag sheds water.

"I know that there's a good person in you, somewhere under all of the fear and misery there's someone I would want to call friend. I've been trying to dig you out but my approach so far is only scratching into the surface."

>Your own frown deepens as your eyes burn with sadness, grief drags down your ears. You can't continue on like this or he'll just end up hurting you again and again, whether he means to or not.

>Something has to change.

"That's why I'm trying to get you to finally open up and trust someone other than me, I'm not asking you to stick around Vilka or any of the idiots that hang around her. I'm asking you to treat my squad right."

>Your earlier anger has given way to disappointment and worry, and it infects your voice as it quivers.

"I know that I saw someone in there.. The same someone I bonded with, the man that stuck by me when I had finally been pushed too far."

"I didn't even have to ask for anything, that man was just there for me."

>His grimace has melted away, softened into a more despairing expression. Tasting the air bought you one intensifying scent underpinning his normal aroma, regret.

>He stared up at you as his breath slowed, and just like those first meetings all over again, you pinned your gaze straight into his eyes, catching them in a lock.

>The concern and heartache continued to wring words from you.

>It breathed out in a voice straight from the heart.

"Where are you?"

>...

>"Teth..." You're finally breaking through to help him understand, and now more than ever the twisting knot under your breast urges you fiercely to air your feelings.

"I want to believe what I saw wasn't a lie, but I need a sign!"

"I just need some signal that the man I called friend is still in there, that I'm not wasting my time and I can dig you out."

>It was all you needed, what you desperately needed to ensure all of your wonderful memories weren't based on a lie.

"So show me! Give me a sign..."

"Because I don't want to believe what I saw was a lie! If it was... If I can't fix you... Then I just can't keep you close anymore, because you'll just end up hurting me."

>His eyes have lost their edge, his face is painted with a sunken palor of regret.

>You hate to do this to him, you practically have to tear at your own heart to do so, but you just can't abide the faintest chance of this happening again, of this wounding the both of you. If he can't learn, if he can't own up to it that his fear is unfair and wrong, it would happen again.

>If that was the case, then he was doomed from the start. Just like your brother.

>This was the crucible moment, even thinking of the ultimatum prompts a tearing pain in your core, but you force the words anyway, despite the quiver of your voice, and the desperate pleading of your tone.

"...So you can either come with me and apologize... Or we can say our goodbyes..."

>And with that, you finally force yourself to turn away, breaking your immediate link to eachother.

>It was his choice, and you continued on even as your heart screamed to pull you back in the other direction.

>That hope comes dearly, that he wouldn't call your bluff, because then you may be left with no other choice but to follow through.

>The heat starts to gather at the corners of your eyes, as your breath starts choking into shallow heaving, but you hold it back as best you can. Just keep walking.

>The seconds seem to stretch on into agonizing minutes as you move. Just keep walking.

>You swallow a sob trying to tear its way out through your teeth, the thought that he was beyond repair was rattling your heart into a mess. Just keep walking.

>"TETH'RA!"

>Immediately your ears flick back, and your breath catches. You hear the stamp of his boots on the hard earth jogging to catch up with you.

>"Wait!.. I.. I'll uh... come with you."

>You slow your pace as a cool wave cascades over you, dragging out all the air in your lungs in one great huff. Sweet relief.

>The last thing you wanted to do was leave him on his own, and sever your connection to the very person you couldn't help but feel you needed right now.

>You keep yourself in the lead ahead of him so he can't see the grin crawling over your muzzle, but you do let a slice of your happiness decorate your voice.

"Come on. Let's go."

>He's not beyond repair.

---

>You decided to settle this where it started, that damn gantry. By now the proper mechanized units had vacated the mechpark to join the mainline in the north, so you saw no reason not to have your squad meet you there.

>You ordered them to pull Feldspar out of the cooler too, hopefully if she was shaping up you could excuse her from a second night in there.

>Tom trailed behind you, looking quietly worried and shrinking in on himself.

>Something occurred to you as you finished chattering into the radio to get your squad moving, how unfavorably would they view your treatment of him?

>You sure as hell gave that cat a welt to give her pause if she ever thought about pulling a stunt like that again, but for Tom, you were comparatively lenient.

>The thought of ever striking him tugged hard against your heart, but you can't deny he did wrong too.

>The practical reasons run in opposition as well, he technically outranks you, so you can't throw him in the chiller as if that was ever an option in the first place. But from their point of view, that might not even matter.

>You hold a very real sway over him, and they would expect you to use that to punish him.

>But the last thing you want to do is reinforce his fear, you'll have to push for something more productive.

>The worry is lashing a noose over your core. Can you trust your squad to show the same sort of restraint you do? Will they even understand?

>You don't know them well enough yet to say, but they're miles above whoever else you could even remotely think of turning to in this outfit.

>Playing a balancing act between his neurosis and your squad's already fractured cohesion is going to be tough.

>Soon you came upon those same towering girders where your heart had been wounded just the day before.

>The dancing shadows of the rising light flurried their way across a massive silhouette standing motionless at the gantry's center.

>It always amazed you how massive that machine was up close, and to think it was piloted by someone that only comes up to your chest.

>Someone so vulnerable, but combative.

>Someone so abrasive, but warm...

>A heavy sigh leaks from your lips as you inspect the machine by the shadow it casts on the plastic screens.

>He's in there somewhere, the man you grew close with, the man you've recently started to think towards the possibility of being more than a friend.

>You have to brush away the quills and barbs, and coax him out again, and not just for yourself this time.

>You had a responsibility to shed away his fears, and you failed.

>You had a responsibility to get him use to the idea of other anthros being around him, an integration and acceptance, and you failed.

>You had been entrusted by your squad not to hide something like this from them, and you failed them.

>It's time to make things right.

>Can't have your squad losing their reasons to follow you, you had proven your mettle in that clash for that podunk town and the bunker hidden in the hill.

>You saw something in Duran's eyes that told you that you had been someone she could trust, someone she could count on.

>You wanted to say the same about them, so you had to fix your mistake.

>You have to fix Tom, you can't dote and wait on him anymore, and you have to regain that feeling of camaraderie with your troop.

>Even if it feels like your staring down a challenge on par with that machine, you aren't backing down.

>Square your shoulders and stand high.

>you can hear them now, already inside and quietly conversing. Stopping with a turn to your back, you see Tom still following you.

>He's paused and his face is pulled down in a look of worry, he hears them too. He's looking around in what you can only imagine as a search for escape.

>He stops when he meets your glare, you softly shake your muzzle in disapproval and motion with a claw for him to come closer.

>It drags you low again to think how difficult it might be to get him to give them a fair chance, to give you a chance.

>You bend your legs to get down towards his eye level, and you catch his eyes again.

>He has enormous trust in your eyes, your words carry great weight when you're like this, so you choose them with care.

"I won't let them hurt you, but you have to understand this is to help you."

>His brow creeps down somewhat as you seem to be coaxing away his immediate fear where it can disperse in the open air.

>You know he can be very empathetic, you just have to urge him towards seeing your charges beyond the teeth and claws.

"Just give them a chance. Like you did me."

>He nods unsteadily as you rise back to your height and gently push him ahead of you with a paw.

>His back briefly jumps as you make contact, and you fight off the urge to whine like a pup, his flinching has gotten worse.

>You had telegraphed it clearly, and now even the announced touches from the hand he so trusted before have him jumping on instinct.

>One step forward, and you don't know how many steps back.

>As the two of you clear the screens, the conversation stops.

>The first muzzle to snap in your direction is Duran, she wears a doubtful expression as her hazel eyes snap from you down to Tom, and then over to Feldspar. You follow her gaze.

>The cat sits on a supply crate like the smaller canine, but seems to be visibly separated from everyone else. All of the privates have taken seating to Duran's side.

>This is... an unexpected development, and it may be a good sign. On the other hand the doberman could be as angry with you as she seems to be with the lioness, if her glaring is anything to judge by.

>For her part, Feldspar doesn't look happy either, her expression reads as equal parts contentious and miserable.

>The twins share looks of quiet concern as the corporals stare eachother down, and the kid grenadiers look like they just walked in on their parents having a fight.

>The privates alternate between staring at you, and looking on with some sort of quiet worry towards the two corporals.

>The gentle resistance against your hand has stiffened immensely as you try to step forward. You look down, he's locked up.

>His breath is visibly erratic and his arm twitches, you can smell the fear coming to a boil. You consider your options in helping to abate it.

>The old you would have shuttled him away and cooed reassurances into his ear, but that's the exact sort of thing you did before, which wasn't working.

>Just shoving him forward into this confrontation, especially when even you yourself are unsure how the others will respond, is also the wrong move.

>At the same time, your squad could easily see everything you're doing, you have to handle this in a way that isn't unfair to them either.

>There is no easy answer. Prioritize Tom and your other responsibilities may take that as coddling your favorite. Prioritize your squad and Tom will feel abandoned and threatened.

>Your immediate issue is coaxing Tom into even approaching them, you follow his fear frosted gaze and he seems to be staring most at Feldspar.

>Your heart manages to twist itself into a knot as you see him twitching an unaware finger towards his thankfully empty holster.

>You at least made sure to grab him before he remembered his sidearm, him forgetting it like this had actually been a good thing.

>Both incidents would have been magnified into disasters if he had been armed.

>Of course, the one time he did remember it, he walked in on you in the middle of exposing yourself.

>The amusement to be gleamed from that extra stint of awkwardness a little while ago relieved some of the mounting stress like a sleight of hand.

>Wait, exposure... That was it!

>Like what humans do when sunbathing to try and improve their skin, controlled exposure, enough to bronze the flesh, but metered as to not burn it.

>It's the best option beyond theoretical nonsense that you can think up, and more importantly, act on right now.

>Calming him first takes immediate priority, you can't have him talking at them from across the gantry.

>Gently, you rest your other hand on his shoulder and squeeze at the base of his neck, a silent reaffirmation that you're still here, and you'll keep him out of harm's way.

>His breath steadies and he lets you lead him forward, at least he still trusts you that far.

>You decide to sit opposite Duran in the circling of crates that your squad has taken up, putting the privates to your left side between you and the corporal.

>You make sure to keep an eye on Feldspar and you prompt Tom to sit behind you to your right, physically placing yourself between him and the others, but not so much that he's obscured from their view.

>At least in your eyes, the message is clear, you'll protect him, but you won't hide him.

>Controlled exposure.

>"So... The hyped up wet neck shows himself. Pheh!" Feldspar's voice is more bitter than your 'chocolate' rations, and your tepid frown turns over to a scowl.

>She rolls her eyes as she continues. "I've seen fruitflies more intimidating."

>"Shove it up your tail pipe, pride flower! Fucking savage, you belong in a cage." Tom's voice carries an almost growling malt to it, and for a split second you could swear you were hearing your father shouting at the neighbors again.

>Your ears lower as that tightness in your chest returns, already this isn't starting well. Tom feels pressed to attack when threatened, and the lioness won't be one to back down easily.

>Feldspar snarls as she leers hatefully towards him, a shot of heat flares under your collar, already you have to step in and mediate.

"I would remind you to control yourself corporal."

>She sneers as she bears her shoulder against you, tail flicking in anger.

>"Oh, look! Sarge got a favorite. I suppose he slapped a collar on you too." The words snap at something deep in you, something that stirs with a thrashing.

>This inbred she-mane thinks you're fucking COLLARED?!!

>The fire starts flaring, you can feel it stinging your nostrils as you growl and bear your teeth.

>"Oh shut the fuck up Sher!" The bile climbing up your throat is cut off at the pass when you find the words aren't coming from your mouth, but Julia's

>The dog displays a grim vitriol in her eyes, and the unexpected verbal push has both you and the cat off balance.

>"I thought I knew you. But here you are acting like any other brain dead speciest. The fuck is wrong with you!?"

>A gust of air escapes from her, and her prowling gaze looks over to your side of the gathering.

>"And what's the deal with you two? Why didn't you tell us about him?"

>You had no satisfactory answer, you certainly knew your reasons, but to try and excuse yourself based on your lack of suitable company was a waste of breath.

>Already, you were fuming at your problematic corporal, but you hold your venom.

>You had already chewed out the lioness yesterday, and an encore performance wasn't something she had prompted, so far she had sat still, away from him.

>Allowing the steam under your collar to vent, you considered how to word your story to them, how to explain the bizarre little adventure that was your relationship with this human half your size.

>But moments of peace are rare to be had out here, Tom's voice brushed away the still air. "That's none of your business."

>A small inkling of satisfaction dropped into a pond of disappointment. He still refused to see, but his tone was more of a neutral warning than something combative. Maybe he was learning, but if it was improvement, it was just a drop in the bucket.

>Twisting yourself back, you stretched an arm to gently bar his chest with an open palm, and you spoke a gentle warning.

"Stop. It IS their business now."

>He looses a small sigh an takes to staring at the floor for the time being, you turn back just in time to see Duran's lips move.

>"So, what? Is he your secret lover or something?"

>You about swallow your next breath. Does she know? Can she smell you on him? Shit! That scent mark was very faint! but...

>Uh, shit, you're stammering, say something before she catches on!

"Uh. what?! No! I-i-uhh. It's complicated. It's VERY complicated."

-smooth-

>Oh Gods, she knows!

>You need to reword this, you can still salvage it.

"No. What I meant to say was..."

>...

>And there goes your attempt. Ah shit, think, FUCKING THINK!

>Every excuse aludes you, and the dead silence is making you look increasingly guilty, best just spill the facts.

"*sigh* Tom and I... W-We saved eachother's lives, back before I was even promoted. I trust him with my life, and I know he trusts me with his, despite the fact that... well."

>You flick an ear to append your point.

>You already know the question that's coming.

-why didn't you tell them?-

>So you head her off to defuse the situation some.

"Before you say anything. I know, I didn't say anything before, I didn't tell you. I fucked up, and I'm sorry."

"I should have told you to try and avoid this in the first place. The other officers in the platoon are such unreliable fuckups that I..."

>You had slipped into offering an excuse automatically. You should have just left it at an apology, because now you look like you're trying to shift the blame to where it doesn't belong.

>You should at least finish, so maybe they can have insight into why.

"I didn't believe I had anyone else to help me with his fear. So I kept him to myself... Until now."

"And that was the wrong move, because if anything... It just made him worse."

>The shame crawls over you, heated points of marching footprints dotting all over your cheeks and the insides of your ears.

>'Look at what you did' it said, you had practically broken your squad into thirds, and you and Feldspar were in the minority camps.

>The remorse prompts at you to allow your form some humility, so you let it pull your ears down as you gently breath out the last of your reasoning.

>Looks like you'll be trimming your mane back down again this evening, and it floats out of you, some last drawling plea before they inevitably pass judgment on you.

"I'm sorry. Someone could have gotten hurt... and I let it happen by keeping you in the dark."

>Your heart makes a sharp dive, the depths pressuring and gripping it. The whole time she scrutinizes you, and you can't bring yourself to keep up the unbreakable image you had going for you before.

>You don't want this.

>It never should have happened.

>And so much of it is your fault.

>"You're actually broken up about this, aren't you?" A small pluck raises your heart a bit.

>She isn't as mad as you thought she would be.

>You had expected vitriol and fury, some rant about yet another failure of a sergeant

>You look back up, practically wearing the question.

"...I-. I expected you to be furious with me... Wh-Why aren't you..."

>"Mad?" She continues as you look with dawning confusion into her eyes. "Oh I'm mad as hell, believe me, but I can put that behind me."

>"What I was expecting, was for you to swagger in here full of piss and vinegar and bark at us about how you did nothing wrong. Not for your first addressing of me to be an apology."

>The twins then cut over your thoughts before you have a pause to form them.

>"Our previous sergeant was..."

>"An absolute bastard!" The sisters truly were in tune with eachother, hearing them finish eachother's thoughts was almost unnerving.

>Both of them huffed in unison, shared a look, and returned to the conversation.

>"We had a long string of bad luck."

>"We were passed around from NCO to NCO."

>"All of them terrible, incompetant.."

>"Or very quickly dead."

>You took a mental step back to absorb what they were telling you.

>A history of being shuffled between outfits. Abusive, unfit, or just plain unlucky commanding NCO's. 'long string of bad luck'.

>And when you were promoted... They didn't round up a green squad for you as with most fresh sergeants, they gave you a preexisting, understrength group.

>A hex squad.

>It was a little horror story you once overheard Baker using to scare Cherbrie almost immediately after the rodent was promoted.

>At least, you thought it was a story.

>Squads that found hard times everywhere they went, usually cut down to almost half their number or fewer, but whoever was left had the devil's luck.

>A luck they stole from whoever was leading them.

>They would be shuffled around from outfit to outfit, passed from sergeant to sergeant, and every new assignment would come to some sort of bad end.

>The NCO could of course be a raging incompetent in terms of handling that particular unit, or they could be killed almost immediately on the first outing with their new charges.

>You thought it stupid superstition, but the pieces were aligned right in front of you.

>Maybe you should start wearing that ankh charm again... just for good luck.

>...

>What are you doing? Getting yourself worked up over something that probably originated as ramblings from some idiot hopped up on stims.

>Your first sortie was a tough scrape, but you weren't dead, that much was certain.

>And as for the other points, the doberman said it herself, you apologized for your mistake yesterday, and you weren't nearly entrenched enough to develop the sort of power complex to excuse treating them like Vilka treated you.

>If there was some jinx, any truth whatsoever to that tale of paranoia beyond coincidence, you broke it.

>You were lucky with Tom, why would that same luck not apply here?

>If there is any truth to the superstition, maybe you'll have to thank your mother for your lucky stripe.

>You congeal your thoughts towards some sort of response as you rub at your chin, feathering the gold fur of that lucky marking.

"So you guys were expecting me to chew you out for my mistake?"

>A bobbing of heads rather enthusiastically point towards the answer being yes, even Feldspar grudgingly gives an affirmative grunt.

>The lioness follows her grunt with more verbal complaints.

>"Yeah, YOUR mistake." In response, the doberman reaches across, slugging the cat across the shoulder to get her attention.

>"Yours too, dipshit! Don't act like you're innocent!"

>The cat fires back. "What the hell Jules? I thought we were friends!"

>The dog's ears flatten in response. "I didn't realize you were a speciest, and a violent one at that. All you had to do was the exact opposite of the shit you pulled."

>"I thought we were friends too..." A tremor in her voice betrays her lament, and for once, Feldspar wears remorse instead of a scowl.

>How much had these two been through together? And how hard was it for that quiet dog to take a stand?

>The implication whispered at you with echoes of your own heartache from coercing Tom to even be here.

>She takes a moment to collect herself, then looks over towards you and Tom directly.

>"So what's your story?" You realize her gaze has slipped past you and landed directly on Tom, and you can hear him shifting with unease.

>It's inevitable that he'll have to converse, but a small panic pinches your throat. What if he starts panicking again from being engaged so directly?

-controlled exposure-

"You already know, he has a phobia."

>You lean forward a fair bit to both shield him and draw Duran's attention to you, for his own sake, this has to be a slow burn.

>Her brow gives an incredulous raise as her muzzle twists.

>"Don't speak for him sarge, I want to know why."

>You take umbrage with the idea that you're speaking for him, but with how scared he is, you need the shield him from the brunt of this, to keep him calm so when he does speak, so he can voice himself without a misunderstanding.

>But the rumble of his voice from behind you sets you off kilter, he seems to be braver than you thought.

>"I had a cat in my face trying to eviscerate me. I defended myself, nothing more!"

"Does that include agitating the twins and shouting racial epithets?"

>You turned back to look at him with a stern expression, to let him know your disappointment.

>His own face seemed to soften some, and he couldn't find the words to continue.

>He shrank away, avoiding your eyes. Your heart strangled itself, you have to wonder if he's learning, if he can see enough to come forward and recognize his mistakes.

>He certainly wants to do right by you, but you have to hold your breath and hope that the same kindness could extend to anyone else.

>"Why?" Duran's annoyed tone breaks through your thin veneer of concentration, and your pulled back in and you feel yourself being pulled two ways at once.

>Do you tell her to back off and let him breath? Or do you reinforce her question? Which by now was one that had been plaguing you.

>He had been more up to the challenge than you initially thought, but you could still smell the noxious ambrosia of stress and fear coiling about the air around him.

>A million times you had repeated your motivations to yourself, but his fear was always pushing back against it, but you can't let one or the other win the struggle.

>If his fear wins, you can't keep him by you anymore, but the pressure could send him towards another panic attack.

>Above it all was the matter of why, the root of it all, you had suspicions, but nothing entirely solid. Your most prominent hunch pointed towards some sort of violence, somewhere in his past, but you had no idea as to who, what, where, or why.

>Curiosity urges you towards using Duran's blunt questioning to get even the briefest of looks through the gnarled thickets of his phobia, to see the root, so you can better kill it and free him from its toxic embrace.

>He's holding up well enough so far, maybe because you put yourself between him and the others, so curiosity wins.

>You speak gently, so as not to add on to the pressure, and use your connection to help him reveal himself.

"Look, I'm interested to know myself. Why ARE you scared?"

>His shoulders hike up defensively, and the scent of some fresh shot of pain briefly jumps off of him. You imagine if he had fur it would be bristling.

>"I don't want to talk about it."

>You expected this, but you still sour a little, it's hard to say what progress he's making even as he continues being difficult around certain areas.

>Julia's voice picks back up over your shoulder. "Seriously?! The hell is with you?!"

>You can understand that frustration, you're feeling it too, but she's speaking too aggressively.

>You hold an open palm out behind you towards the dog, an obvious signal to back off. But you don't know if she took it well as the split of your attention is directed more towards him at this point.

>Some faint tremor is visible through his clothes as he takes a hissing inhale.

>"I-I CAN'T talk about it."

>You're smelling it again, that same scent from last night, it's only a ghost of what you picked up previously, but it's there under the stress.

>That fire in the pit of your gut starts stirring again, but you keep the flames low by blowing out the heated air.

>He's staunchly against speaking about it, and you can't blame him, because you've been there before.

>You're still pushed to try and reconnoiter that dark root of fear, but you hold yourself back. If anywhere, he would only be willing to speak of it when alone with you.

>Right now it's better to let that line of questioning fall away. You can't allow him to be pushed too far.

>But you should at least coax something conclusive out of him, to bury this issue before it evolves into more of a pain in your tail.

"*sigh* You should at least apologize."

>His concerned face turns back up into your view, and you can see that jumping spark of anxiety in his eye.

>It hurts seeing that thing taunt you, knowing that it would be the wrong move to be rid of it right now.

>You have to get Feldspar to learn to button up before she gets out of control too.

>To that end, you turn about and stare her dead in the eyes, catching her as she was looking on at what you were doing with Tom.

>That first meeting between the two of you must have flashed across her mind, because she freezes with that same look on her face.

"You too!"

>"I already said sorry!"

"Not to him you haven't!"

>You hardened your expression into a scowl, you wouldn't tolerate her getting smart.

>"Alright... fine, I'm sorry about your little pal." She glares directly at Tom, and you can practically hear his hair standing on end.

>"Hear that? I'M SORRY."

>But before you can rebuke her for being an insincere ass, Duran makes a repeat performance of doing it for you.

>You know what the sound of one hand clapping makes, and to your amusement, that sound is of an open-palmed canine paw crashing into the back of a speciest's head.

>Her ears flatten, and she covers her head with a paw, whirling about to spit noise at her increasingly belligerent counterpart corporal.

>"What the f-"

>Before she can complain, Duran cuts over her on a power note, the volume of her voice surprises everybody, even you and the up till now silent pair of Matthews and Pliskin, who both give startled peeps.

>"BE SINCERE ASSHOLE!!!" Tension visibly extrudes from her as she breathes sharply to continue. "What the hell is with you?!"

>"I have NEVER seen you like this before!" She takes a shuddering inhale, a breeze leaks through, ruffling the brushy fur atop her head.

>Her scent is carried towards you, and you immediately pick out a gripping sadness clinging to it.

>Your own heart lurches in sympathy, like you felt Tom was becoming someone else, someone distant, you could almost feel those next words before they even finished leaving her lips. Because it was the same vein of thought you struggled with him over.

>"I feel like I don't even know you right now! Like you're a different person!"

>She almost gasps attempting to catch her breath, and then scent of sorrow touches you again, she's trying to hold herself together so she doesn't tear up.

>"Jules..."

>The lioness' anger is spirited away as she tries to reach out to the dog, only for her paw to be pushed away.

>"Don't!" The cat seems to sink, her own stubbornness had worked against her. It had left her open for her emotions to bite her.

>The whole exchange has echoes of your own argument playing back in your head, 'Where are you?'. You pray that he's here.

>You have to wonder how long your corporals have known eachother, how deep their connection runs, how hard it is on Duran as Feldspar frays that wire.

>They don't share anything like what you hope to have with Tom, but you still see the lines between Charlene and him running parallel.

>The twins look on, reaffirming eachother with a short spell of eye contact, and speak.

>"We have to agree with Julia."

>"You behave like an entirely different person now."

>"We had never seen this sort of thing out of you."

>"It's shocking, and disgusting."

>The two of them shake their heads, almost in unison. You were starting to get more used to how in sync they were, testament to how close the sisters were, but little moments where they almost looked like mirror reflections of eachother like that still gave just a nip of frost at the tip of your tail.

>One of the privates manages to find their voice, and you hear from the slight chirrup before she speaks, it's Pliskin speaking.

>"You weren't exactly the nicest person in the world, but... Mocha and Minna are right. I feel like I don't know you anymore.

>Matthews joins in. "Same here..."

>Some realization dawns across the lion, and suddenly all of her rough and tumble spirit is blown away, her whiskers droop, and her tail falls limp.

>You can see the processes turning over themselves behind her eyes, and you can confidently guess at the conclusion.

>You hold your breath.

>"h-Have I really been that... bad?"

>The area briefly uproars in agreement, everyone of the squad voicing themselves in their own ways.

>The small choir of affirmatives wounds her, and so her shoulders sag and she stares at the floor.

>You decide to chip in, to see how willing she is to turn this around.

"I haven't known you for long, Feldspar, but what I've seen from yesterday puts a lot of doubt on whatever faith or favor you accrued on the field."

"I would like to just put this behind us, so maybe you can show me you aren't some seditious, speciest, shithead like you're currently giving the impression of. But that's on you."

>She breaths out a heavy sigh, and goes about weighing her options, even though you know she can't hear you, you mentally plead with her to do the right thing.

>This animosity has worn out its welcome, and every further moment it hangs around the air grates against your nerves with a metallic shriek.

>The lion raises her head, and pauses. Here it comes.

>"... What can I do to make it up?"

>The heat that comes rocketing out of you gives way to a profound relief. If both of them have been shepherded away from being stubborn by empathy, this shouldn't be difficult.

>"Shake on it." The words barrel out of Duran's mouth with barely enough pause between her and Feldspar for the single beat of a drum.

>And just like that, this might be difficult again, pressing the two of them that close, especially with how severe Tom can get, does NOT sound like a good idea.

>You try to mull over what words to chain together in order to swat that suggestion out of the air before potential disaster strikes, but you're interrupted by another crescendo of mutual agreement from the rest of the squad. You listen to the hushed gliding of cloth across a hard surface as Tom shrinks behind you.

>Shit

>So many things pull you back towards him at once, and there's reasons to go along with it, so you tune out of the conversation picking up at the other end of the exchange and lend your focus to Tom. If you don't he might get flighty.

>He's wide-eyed and fearful, his breathing is picking up as you read tension winding around his body.

>Your eyes meet, and once again you give thanks towards whatever force enchants him in your eyes as he starts calming, but tension still jostles in the back of his voice as he speaks.

>"D-Do I really have to-..." His back shudders as he shivers, as if caught in a storm. "Get near that... bitch?"

"Look, I know it's not going to be easy, but we really don't have much of a choice here."

>Judging by the mask of fear coating the air around him, it won't be easy at all. You need a plan

>inhale, count to four, exhale

>Controlled exposure.

"Look, if you can't even approach another anthro, then how will you ever be rid of this?"

>"I-I'm not sure about this." His voice quivers with fear, do you still press on?

>He is holding up better than you expected, and it's in both of your interests to press him into something like this, even if you'd prefer more time to ease him in.

>There's also your squad, and showing your 'favorite' was driven far more by fear and paranoia than malice should soften them as he recognizes his mistakes.

>You've narrowed onto going forward with this.

"I'm trying to help, I really am. All you have to do is shake her hand and show you're sorry, not just to me, but to them"

>"But-"

"I'll be right there, anything happens, I'll put myself between you two. You don't have to worry."

>You crack a patient smile, to reaffirm and support. He manges to find a precarious solace in it and your eyes.

>Tuning an ear back in to the other side of the gathering, they sound like they're wrapping up.

>You close your lips and breath deep, tasting the ambrosia of emotion and scent swirling around. One thing carries above everything else, anxiety, you aren't alone in that gripping anticipation about your chest.

>His next breath is a swell as he rises with you, trying to combat his tension.

>True to your word, you keep yourself in front of him on the approach, while also making sure he's actually following you.

>You meet Feldspar in the middle, feeling like the three of you are being propped up on a stage, something that ain't helping your own quiet tumult of worry.

>You Loom over both of them, and are sure to keep an eye on both of them as you put them in front of you, but still close so you can insert yourself should something happen.

>A crackling tension dances across the air, you can feel it arcing along your fur as they stand off at arm's length from eachother, and you.

>Tom looks to you with worry tugging his brow upward. With locked eyes, you share a slight smile and a subtle nod, if necessary, you will step in and separate them to protect him. You keep your word

>He closes his eyes, inhales, pauses, and exhales.

>Wait, does he know that trick too?

>He braces out a hand, and your surprise only grows as he speaks.

>"I... apologize, for how I acted."

>Some warm thing grows wings inside of you and tries to flutter out, it's a fight to hold it in, and you can feel your pride swelling in conjunction.

>It's working!

>"It was wrong of me to... assume all of you were IMMEDIATE threats."

>His words are strained and the sideline accusation against the lion is clear, but you can excuse that based on the steps forward he's taken.

>You were expecting, and dreading, so much worse, but this willingness to dare, a product of your presence or no, is starting to stir a joyful feeling.

-your tail is starting to wag-

>down girl! You still have to see the other side of this get resolved.

>He fights against small tremors in his arm as he waits for the lioness to forward her end of the apology, you note that his gaze seems intently focused on his outstretched hand, and nothing else.

>You look over to find confusion and uncertainty dawning her, like it didn't occur to her that he might be the bigger person and apologize first.

>You affix her with a meaningful glare, and cock a brow to get across the unspoken question: 'why aren't you showing me you're better than this?'

>As if in response, she speaks softly, but clearly. "I was out of line with how I approached you. And how I carried myself..."

>She reaches, and you track her movements with deadly focus, any errant twitch of the paw denoting those claws coming out, and you will step in.

>Tom's hand twitches as the lion's paw glides closer, fighting a want to withdraw and seek shelter.

>Your breath halts at they get down to a hair's breadth, and she takes his hand in a loose clasp.

>"I.. should not have acted that way, I made a bad situation worse. I-I-uh... I-..."

>"*sigh* I'm sorry." With that, she looses her grip, Tom immediately steps back, moving to place you directly in between him and the lion.

>You can't blame him, the tension radiating off of him getting this far was enough to even get you wound up.

>The principle things you feel now are a radiant happiness starting to lift your chest, and relief, above all, relief.

>You can definitely fix him.

---

<Tom>

>The days crawled by in torment, your nights were plagued by terror, but thankfully you weren't mired in your own head again.

>She always seemed to either wake you in the middle of the night, or the storm of your dreams calmed into something more tepid before the damage could become lasting.

>The most important thing for a Trooper is his sleep, and your subconscious seemed determined to disrupt your regular eight hours.

>Your productivity suffered, you barely did any self maintenance on your Rumbler as during most of those hours, you would find a quiet place to squirrel away to and nap, just so you weren't a nervous wreck when the time did come to turn your guns about.

>The techs may bitch and moan, but they could languish while being chained to a grind wheel for all you could care. They ignored your repairs in favor of a living propaganda caricature, and they were too busy kicking back in a flatbed with micro-brew and a dog-eared issue of Playboy to so much as drop a motherfucking bug.

>They certainly didn't hold a candle to the old outfit.

>Even visiting aces had to take second ticket to in-battalion repair and refurbishments back in the 512, they always kept your mechs together.

>That gaggle of old guard mech techs had a talent for even battlefield repair.

>You remember Vinny, the chief engine mechanic, once came roaring out in the cupola of a light tank with a pintle mounted 20mm when O'Neill's machine blew a hip actuator and two of her engines caught fire.

>They dodged around ahead of a flatbed carrying the spare parts and a crew of very pissed and heavily armed mechanics.

>O'Neill's warhorse was back in the fight within an hour.

>They reasoned that you pilots took the brunt of the action, so it was only fair they share some of the life risking once in a blue moon.

>Vinny would brag constantly about how he would build a hotrod when he finally got to go home.

>But he never did get to go home...

>Probably the best support crew you could ask for, while they lasted.

>Of course, mistakes still happened, and the machine you inherited was a notorious problem child.

>Three previous pilots, and the oldest service life out of all the machines in the battalion, the mechanics, in a mix of affection and incandescent hatred, called it 'the bucket'.

>The colonel and Willard put in a joint order for a factory fresh Rumbler to finally retire the old heap.

>You can rightfully say that order came as the machine you rode now.

>She was young, brash, and full of life. A last gift.

>But she needed a name.

>You're sure you can come up with something, something the machine can wear with pride. And as a fitting tribute, so you can finally put this behind you, so it stops haunting you without relent.

>But a name can only be given to a machine that has proven itself, a machine ridden by an ace.

>One kill shy, and trying to fight off the stress inbetween long bouts of being bored to death, you cursed and railed as a worthy marker refused to show itself.

>As the 606 followed the advance north along the highway, there were engagements aplenty to be had once the battalion joined the spear of the thrust.

>Problem was every engagement was minor, routine, nothing worth a kill marker, let alone dwelling on.

>After you passed the smoking ruin of a cleared out little villa by the name of Clinton, the mountains distanced from eachother like lovers in a spat, and the terrain opened up into rolling, densely wooded hills. Logging country.

>A pack of bugs would come charging out of the thickets of trees towards the road, get chewed into paste by the crossfire of the lead elements before they ever got close, and then things would continue on as normal until the next pack decided to impale themselves on the tip of the spear.

>Mile after mile, passing and clearing hamlet after hamlet, nothing bigger than the rare Stag, no Marauders. Your machine would be lacking a name for some time.

>A fact that prancing showman Redenbacher never failed to wave in your face, inadvertently or not.

>Gatherings of eager rookie troopers clumped around him like blades of grass, paying rapt attention to every syllable lazing out of his mouth in that ridiculous accent, like it was sweet, dewed honey dripping from a faucet for the attendance of wayward moths.

>At least that's how the rambling idiot would word it in between cooing about his machine, his precious 'Frau Emile'.

>A flowery name for a flowery pretender. For the sake of your patience you just avoided him at every opportunity.

>Your days saw you sheltering behind Teth'ra after she coaxed you out of your stupor to make nice with her little slice of the zoo.

>She always said it was for your own good.

>So you went, and you hid yourself behind her and shied away from any stares or lures for you to join in on the conversation.

>You didn't have anything to say, especially not to that fucking lion.

>But you went anyway, attended all of the mealtimes, hung around at the little functions as they talked and went about their routine.

>All because Teth'ra wanted you to, and trying to back out of it would land you in hot water with her, a position you fervently wanted to stay out of.

>While your opinion of the lioness would stay rooted in stone for all time, the others... They didn't seem hostile, at least not outwardly.

>Maybe you had been a little panicky in the past. Watching how the jackal interacted with them cast flickering shadows of your own unit.

>And it cast shadows of doubt over you, that constriction around your core refused to entirely go away, not helped by your own grief.

>She gave you plenty of time alone to address yourself over it, but never too much time. She'd always come find you when the pressure was vented but you no longer wanted to be alone with yourself.

>But she didn't say much to you either, and you worried whatever bond carried between you was starting to stutter and die.

>So you wondered why she kept up her uncanny vigilance over you. Was it just in her best interest to make sure the battalion pilot was functional? Or were all those times you muttered sorry actually keeping her here to see if you could redeem yourself in her eyes?

>Sorry was all you could say, the constricting knot around your heart was very slow to loose its grip, and no other words really came to mind while it was there.

>The world wasn't going to pause no matter who's gone, or who's mourning in their absence, the advance continued north for miles.

>It had been five days.

>The last evening greeted you with a sight as the long march neared a clustering of villages along what was Canadian route 97.

>In the shadow of the clouds overhead, a mass of flying bugs balled defensively in a roaring buzz as they were harried without relent by airborne hunters.

>Darting in undulate swoops from the clouds, a wing of swift arrowheads plucked at the broiling mass like seabirds, fighters.

>Again and again they'd dive, ascend, and vanish, shaping the swarm's errant tendrils and punishing the hazy fingers it stretched to engulf a pack of orbiting gunships with frenzied flurries of gunfire.

>Uncontested, the fat, armored tiltjets bit in retaliation by casting wads of flak into the buzzing swarm, clipping wings, and shredding bodies. The bloodied husks fell like hail into the forest below.

>Watching the airforce perform its kinetic dance was something else, a hawkish predator picking apart its prey, all within half an hour.

>But all was not well.

>That night your sleep was haunted again.

>On your back in a field under a colorless sky, you couldn't feel anything but the stones pressing into your lungs.

>Painfully slow in breath, you could only gaze dryly upwards as a murder of black birds whirled over your head.

>The gaunt shapes of corvids glinted through the gnarling fingers of a dead tree, life bled from you as the hungry birds descended lower and lower.

>As your breath shallowed and stung, growing slower, and thinner, you realized: they weren't here for you, not initially.

>Gradually, you came to the sense of another body lying in bled stillness to your side.

>A body larger than your own.

>Your heart came slower and weaker, the drum beat creeping towards a stop.

>As the wind screamed through the dessicated field around you, your head started falling limply towards your side.

>But before you could lay eyes on what was beside you, you were jerked awake by a furred hand.

>Another nightmare she saved you from. In a tired voice, she asked if you were okay.

>Reading the concern across her face finally loosened the death grip your heart was under, she wasn't doing this out of self interest.

>She still cares.

>The following day saw you roving into the hamlet reaching for small town named 100 Mile House and driving out the bugs with prodigious fire.

>The battalion was then halted and told the village would be your base of operations for the next day or so.

>Finally, some rest.

>So far you had been starting to feel above the weather today, and then this had to happen.

>You had been told that you and the rest of the platoon would be clearing houses.

>Teth'ra at least had the courtesy to take you along with her as everyone was paired off into two man teams to go through the wheeling spikes of suburbs peeling off of the center of town to check and clear every abandoned home of bugs one by one.

>Still, you were irritated, and very much aware of every facet of your surroundings because all you had to your name right now was the .44 in your hands and the broken assurance that as a pilot, you would never have to go tunnel diving. So the obvious question has to be asked.

"Why the hell am I here again?"

>"Hilarious mismanagement?"

>That grin cresting the corner of her muzzle as she tilted her head over her shoulder told you the question was already answered.

>You had been trailing behind her stride for the past hour or so in nervous silence as you cleared dead homes and tried not to think of how many bugs could be hiding in the trees. Something that to your chagrin, she didn't seem to be taking seriously.

"I mean why the hell am I HERE? On the ground. I'm a pilot, not a fucking rifleman. I shouldn't be doing this bitch work."

>'bitch work' Wait, shit. Was that something she'd take offense to? Maybe you should just shut up.

>She blew a short huff as she looked ahead, continuing the conversation as you strolled up the street.

>"Bitch work it is, but I think as far as the old men are concerned, if you're part of the infantry outfit, you do infantry work. Even out of the mech."

>She panned her muzzle over her shoulder again and gave you that same smirk. Right, mismanagement.

>Why expect things to make sense in a military kitbashed from the armies of every power of note on the planet?

>After all, they did send you to an anthro dominated unit. Even if it accidentally introduced you to Teth'ra, it was an outright retarded decision.

>Still, something plucked at you to ask her why she decided to take you along on this suburban expedition.

"No, I mean... Why take me with you? Aren't I supposed to be making friends with your little crew?"

>"Yer with me because you're such a fragile little flower, and who better to keep you unshattered than the biggest bitch in the regiment?"

>You soured a bit at the mention of your fragility, but the tone of her voice was mischievous rather than malicious, the girl is just having a bit of fun with you.

>The two of you were walking down a cracked suburban street, overgrown lawns and creaking pines brushed out of the ground to both sides, attempting to obscure the abandoned homes that may have once been referred to as quaint.

>Past the thinner trees on the right, lay the sparkling waters of a small lake, if you remembered the maps correctly, it was called Horse Lake.

>The two of you were tasked with clearing unexplored buildings sequentially on the right side of the road, and you would go however far was necessary up this little slice of americana on the lake's northern shore until you either found trouble or met up with another team going the opposite way.

>So far you passed eight of the decrepit residential structures, one was collapsed, five were already cleared as denoted by the red markers painted by the doors, and the two of you had cleared as many domiciles and found nothing so far.

>But you swallowed nervously as you eyed the upcoming house, devoid of the red door marker.

>Third time's the charm.

>You kept yourself behind her as she sauntered forward, entirely uncaring of the overgrown grass and weeds, it came up to your waist, but to her it wasn't even an inconvenience.

>She kept that hulk of a gun at her hip, locking it forwards as the ammo belts lazily hanging off her shoulders clattered against themselves.

>You had no damn idea they could practically rip an M2 off of one of your secondary turrets, and slap a rifle stock and grip on it like that.

>It was loud, boisterous, and unique. A natural fit for her if ever there was one.

>Her presence was setting you slightly more towards ease, after all, she could use a crew served weapon like a rifle, and if push came to shove, could maybe tear a bug apart bare handed.

>Being behind this walking arsenal of a woman at least made your chances look better.

>The house squats in front of you as you keep the gun in your grip level with your chest, ready to snap upwards should you spy any movement through the windows.

>Truthfully, you have little idea what you're doing. You're used to surveying the battlefield from over 50 feet in the air, with the power to flatten buildings arrayed at the tips of your fingers, not nervously prowling through overgrown grass towards a tiny lakefront property that may or may not contain a bug or two.

>At least you have Teth'ra's expertise to guide you, you'll follow her lead.

>Suddenly, there's a crash somewhere to your right.

>You hear a violent skittering of something darting through the grass.

>The hammer is already cocked on instinct, you whirl to the right, snapping the silver mass upwards.

>Draw a bead.

>Align the sight picture.

>Shoot to kill.

>...

>Nothing

>You check left, you check right, but if something was in the grass, it's either long gone, or was too small to see in the first place.

>You don't have anything beyond eyesight to track it, but she does.

"THE FUCK WAS THAT?!! WHERE THE HELL DID IT GO?!"

>Looking to her for any clues, she had already panned right towards the noise. She stood like a totem against the breeze, motionless aside from the panning of her eyes and the twitching of her ears.

>She breaths out the lung-full she was holding. "It's gone, calm down."

>You wheeled around to check your flanks, just to be sure, all the while trying to calm the thundering under your chest.

>Was it even a bug? Whatever it was couldn't have been very large if you lost it in the grass. It could be out there, waiting to bite your damn ankles off.

"Yeah, but. But what the hell was that?!"

>She takes pause, before panning her nose skywards and sampling the air.

>That small grin returns to her as she lightly shakes her head before starting forward again.

>"Alley cats, nothing to worry about." How did that make any sense? how do they survive out here?

>"Skittish animals tend to find a place to hide when the bugs come through, they can survive for a long time on whatever is left behind."

>So now you had feral cats running around to contend with, flea-bitten vermin that were likely to cause trouble trying to get into supplies, not to even mention what sort of diseases they could be carrying.

>You suppressed a shudder towards the thought of, of all things, being laid low by an infected cut from some dead housewife's impassive room decoration.

"Great, so now I gotta worry about catching rabies too."

>"They aren't aggressive, you have nothing to worry about... It's a pain keeping the little bastards away from the supplies though. Gods know I've been saddled with that shit more than enough times."

"What about the damn bugs? Could be anywhere in those trees..."

>"Oh come on, if there was a bug out here, I'd smell it. We're trained to pick up their scent, and in this air, if one was anywhere near us, I'd know."

>She couldn't be lying, she was a canine, that nose must be highly acute.

>She would let you know if she picked up something.

>The two of you conclude the short jaunt to the squatting single story, stacking up on the door, you take note of just how large she really is.

>Her frame is almost taller than the door itself, and counting her ears, she is taller.

>The thought of her trying to move around without bumping in to everything is a little amusing, relieving a slight amount of the tension.

>She tries the handle... it's locked. Taking a step back, she braces a shoulder towards the door, and you connect what she's doing.

>The jackal is about to make a hell of a lot of noise.

"Woah! Wait."

>"How else am I supposed to get through this?" She has a brow raised curiously, waiting for your flash of genius.

"I don't know. Try to find a spare key under the doormat or something..."

>A flash that was more of a fizzle, she scoffs bemusedly.

>"Look, just like the last two times, I go in first, you follow and watch my back. Nothing should be taking us by surprise, but I doubt there even are any bugs around here."

>"We go on three. Okay?" You return a nod.

>"One. Two. THREE!"

>She ducks her head low, boots pounding hard against the concrete porch as she charges forward with her shoulder.

>You don't have a solid handle on how much she would weigh, but it's more than enough to crash through the door in one go.

>It flies off its hinges, shattering into splinters around the point of impact with a loud crack and following crash.

>Before the debris even hits the floor, her weapon is raised, rapidly scanning around the room for anything bug shaped.

>You check the sides of the house one more time before following her in, looking along her flanks for any movement.

>Nothing jumps at you, but that entry was loud.

"Christ. Are we trying to alert the whole zipcode?"

>"Shh!" You note that she is taking advantage of the silence to use her ears to try and pick out anything, if there was a bug in here, the entry should have alerted it into moving.

>You hear absolutely nothing beyond the air moving and the occasional sounds from Teth'ra's kit. If you were a less paranoid man, you could tentatively guess this house is clear.

>But you've only checked this front foyer/living room, a hallway peels off to the right just in front of a kitchenette shuffled into the corner of the room.

>She advances with solid purpose, head low and ears folded as she produces a knife edge focus down the barrel of her shouldered... HMG? Rifle? You just follow as best you can.

>She walks the muzzle through an open door into a small bathroom, rapidly scanning as you watch her back by pointing your gun down the hall.

>"Clear!"

>Leaning back in, Teth'ra continues her focused advance forward, surprisingly agile in the confined space, even as her ears glide just under the low ceiling.

>The jackal kicks a door open, snapping her rifle up towards one side, across, and then down the other before moving into the room.

>It's some office space or something, she makes wide, fast sweeps across the space.

>Watching this, you get a feeling like the woman you know is being piloted by a machine. Her movements are tight, mechanical, and almost entirely free of any personal touch.

>"Clear!"

>Little touches that are undeniably Teth'ra still show through, it is her voice calling out the clear signal, no matter how flat and robotic the tone is.

>The way she ducks her large body through the doors reminds you of the almost clumsy way she'd hunch into the tent, however stark the difference is between her precise movements here and the awkward ones there.

>As stiffened and bristled as her tail is, it still possesses a laconic mind of its own, lazing this way and that in contrast with her short, practiced steps.

>You sort in behind her as she ducks back out of the home office, continuing down the hall and thrusting open another door.

>A dusty bedroom, furnished and decorated for a child, she dwells on nothing as she sweeps before ducking back in to the hallway.

>"Clear!"

>How many times had she seen a sad sight like this? You struggle to keep away any intruding musings on who must have lived here before the bugs came, and if they survived.

>Bugs don't leave bodies.

>You can't really see past her in the hallway, but you know from memory there are two doors left up ahead.

>They're almost right next to eachother, and she chooses the door at the end of the hall that you can only assume by its lighter looking composition and lack of insulation it leads into the master bedroom.

>The sergeant strides in, wheeling her weapon across her left, over top of a queen sized bed, and briefly threatening herself in a dresser mirror.

>Her heavy boots make dull thuds against the carpet as she moves forward, circling around the bed for the bathroom door, you stay near the door to the hall, training your weapon at the venetian doors of the closet as she checks the bathroom.

>"Clear!"

>You didn't even hear her open the door, it's hard to keep up with her, she moves so damn fast.

>She circles round the bed again, quickly jerking open one of the closet doors.

>Nothing, and just like that, she moves again.

>You're almost shoved out of the way as you back off to let her through, certain that her next goal is the garage door.

>If there's anywhere in this tiny home where a bug would choose to nest, it would be the garage.

>Teth'ra rests a hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you out of her way as she ducks back in to the hallway.

>For once, she pauses upon reaching the door. You can see her back rise slightly under that bulky armor vest.

>You catch your own breath, despite the small strings of guilt pulling at you. You're getting in her way, you aren't watching every angle, you can't keep up with her.

>A bug might be in that garage, where it could be on either of you in a heartbeat if you don't engage it immediately. It's clear she can take care of herself, she just needs you to watch her back.

>You find her blues looking over you for an answer as you steel yourself. They're asking that unspoken question, 'you ready?'

>This could be simple, you've been in close with bugs before... 3 times... when they were alone and in the open.

-You're goi-

>No! It's not like you're diving into the heart of a tunnel network, you can do this. You give her a nod, and she returns one of her own.

>She reaches, and the door slides open.

>It opens into a dark and humid little hovel, and she stomps in, training her weapon into the dim light in search of a target.

>You keep your sights trained past her, watching her flanks as she sweeps the room.

>Whatever was kept in here is gone, cleaned out when the evacuation order came.

>She switches sides, prowling in the other direction now, but no bug comes screaming out of the darkness, no death fated by your inexperience.

>An audible rush of air comes out of her, as she serenely reports. "Clear."

>You let go of what you had been holding too, deflating as you lower your weapon.

>The visage of the trained killer falls away as she relaxes, her ears start standing proud again, and that tail starts slowly swinging as a thin, satisfied smile dresses the end of her snout.

>"That wasn't so bad... I was expecting..."

"Sudden death?"

>She halts before starting to say something, and thinks over it briefly. "Hmm, Yeah, actually.. It's just with all the other places so barren, I was expecting SOMETHING in here."

>"'spose there's no use worrying about it now, let's mark the door and move on."

"Mhm"

>She finds the latch for the segmented door and effortlessly slides it upwards with a clatter, the renewed flood of natural light is harsh and you hiss slightly as you blink to adjust.

>Although last you heard the engineers were working on setting up a generator, the whole town's grid is currently dark. Not making your job any easier.

>It's something else to be reminded of how often human endeavor can fail without someone around to keep an eye on it.

>You listen to the gravel driveway crunch under your boots as you follow her out.

>She produces a can of aerosol paint and sprays the clear marker next to the open space where the front door used to be.

>"Third time's the charm. Eh?"

"That's what I was worried about."

>She gives a small grin, and with a turn of her free hand, she motions for you to follow.

>You feel less comfined now that you're not rooting around in a dimly let hovel and out in the light.

>After all, she can smell them coming out here.

>The return to the road is short as you make your way back through the grass, something rustles and yowls before taking off.

>You briefly spot a thin bundle of fur about the size of a football skittering around the corner of a fence.

>Alley cats, just like Teth'ra said, but you still aren't entirely okay with this.

>Something has been bothering you since you started today, scratching along the inside of your ribs and whispering in your ear.

>You aren't trained for this, you're slowing her down, and if there is a bug out there that somehow evades her senses, it could get her killed.

>Come on, you have to fucking say SOMETHING...

"... Sorry."

>Her ear twitches as her pace slows. She seems torn between stopping to turn and look at you or just continuing on with the business at present.

>"Fo- For what?"

"I just... I'm not trained for this. I'm slowing you down... I could get you killed."

>"*psch* I'm a big girl! I can take care of myself. As long as you watch my back I'll be fine. If there's anything I'm more worried about. It's you."

>"I already heard tell the idiots in charge don't know the difference between a rifleman and a pilot. So when this bullshit came around, I knew I wanted to keep you where you were safest in this mess: By me."

>"I don't want anything to happen to you. You uh... You mean quite a lot to me. So don't apologize for something that's not your fault. Okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

>It warmed you to think she still cares that much.

---

>You make your way past five more homes, three of which are collapsed or otherwise in shambles, and two more already cleared.

>Seems fate decided to take it easy on you today.

>The whole time you take a more relaxed pace behind Teth'ra, she's not in a hurry to get into more trouble either so the walk is thankfully slow.

>The brass points of her ears occasionally swivel to and fro, her way of keeping an eye open inbetween tasting the air for signs of bugs.

>It's a major plus of having her around, it becomes very difficult for anything to sneak up on you with those sharp predator senses on your side.

>You've been thinking more on this exotic fusion of woman and beast you call friend, namely that bipolar contrast between who she is, and what she is.

>Who she is, is one of the kindest and most genuine souls you've ever had the pleasure of meeting. A lonely sort overflowing with sympathy and earnest affection.

>What she is, is a massive trained killer, bred for war and hardened into an unflinching tool to be brandished at the enemy. She could snap you in half if she so wanted.

>You should be running from her, but you feel so much safer at her side.

>The jackal has managed to be both the worst thing for your fear, and the best person to help you.

>Half the time you swear the recounting of your life since that fateful night almost three weeks ago reads like a fever dream.

>It was really the eyes, wasn't it? The reason you allowed her approach, the reason you somehow trusted her even before she approached.

>Not much of an opportunity to see that enchanting blue glimmer had appeared in the past week, so you defaulted to the eye catching points at the tips of her gently notched ears.

>It's Strange seeing how they track around, snapping to attention should something move around you.

>Your eyes trail down, seeing the slight ruff adorning the back of her head. Did she have more of a mane once?

>Bands of golden fur elegantly frame her shoulders almost like a gift of jewelry from her own genes.

>Your eyes go lower still, attracted to the sway of motion below, her tail swaying with a pendulous rhythm like a grandfather clock, precisely synchronized with the roll of her wide hips.

>The shrouded pillars of her legs carry her forward with the sort of grace born from restrained strength, you can almost count the seconds by the timing of her steps.

>The sway is enticing, and you're growing more and more convinced nothing is on this street aside from the two of you, so it doesn't seem like it would hurt to investigate it.

>She steps, the fabric ruffles, and then smooths handily into a curve that was already there.

>The movement repeats on the other side, and you realize that she fills out even more of those loose pants than you first thought.

>Hips like that could kill a man.

>An errant thought rises to the surface. What would she look like unobstructed by the baggy confines of the battle dress uniform?

>You had already gotten firm looks under her jacket at her heaving bust, barely contained by a series of defeated shirts.

>Just once, maybe she'd wear something that wasn't so loose, so you can get a better read on her landscape.

>If it lines up anything like your mental picture, those legs could blow away any of the withering banshees you used to know.

>Maybe anthros have their perks.

>"Hey."

>...

>shit, did she catch you staring? Act natural!

"uhh-u-eh what? Yeah?"

-smooth-

>son of a bitch

>"You okay?"

"I- Okay how?"

>"We just haven't talked much over the week, I want to know how you're holding up."

>Maybe she didn't notice your earlier leering. That concern is still there, you have been starting to look up, but you still aren't sure of yourself.

"Just been trying to find my feet."

>Both of her ears are focused intently in your direction, almost giving you the feeling she's looking at you even though her eyes aren't visible.

>"I am trying to help, it's best for you to resolve this. I've been giving you space, but... I'd like to know how you're doing. I worry about you."

"This isn't something that just magically goes away, Teth'ra. I have been pulling up some, but I can't just forget it."

>"I'll be here... If you need me."

>The depressive malt in her voice tugs at you, you had been avoiding most everyone, but this was a burden you had to shoulder yourself. It would be unfair to expect her to carry it with you.

>The rest of the walk up the street was quiet, and you bit at yourself to stop leering at her ass. From there you took the next best option, counting trees and marveling at the lake whenever it was in view.

>It was all you were doing to keep yourself occupied out of respect for her and that nervous inkling that the next uncleared structure you would have to step into would be a deathtrap.

>Said deathtrap reared its ugly mug pretty quickly.

>A wide two-story with a two-car garage sitting in an artificial meadow of young pines. Yet another pretentious lake front property that's no different from the average dime a dozen pre-fab home aside from the boat house in the backyard.

>The march up to it is much the same as last time, overgrown grass, some feral house pet dashes away from scrounging in the garbage, but this time you're far more nervous about the actual entry due to the size of the place.

>Far more to clear, far more places to hide and ambush from.

>Like before, Teth'ra readies to crash through the door, but your anxiety spikes with the possibility of immediately alerting your quarry.

"Wait! Hold up a second."

>She lulls out of her stance and flashes a bemused smirk with a sharply raised brow.

>"Okay genius, what's your brilliant plan this time?"

"Not alerting the whole fucking house when you crash in there. Aren't you worried there could be more than one bug?"

>"Of course I'm worried, but this is the only easy way in, and like hell am I going throw myself through a window."

"Look, just.. gimme a second. I think I can do something with my tools."

>You have an alan wrench and a wire clip that should be small enough to fit in the lock and manipulate the tumblers.

>She's suspicious of this working, you can tell by her reserved curiosity, but she has relaxed to allow you to work.

>This ain't your first rodeo, you can feel the weights in the lock, you just have to test them right until you hear that telltale click.

>A huff comes from the giant as you concentrate on working the mechanism. You try not to smirk at her impatience.

>"You really think that's going to work? It's just a cheap trick in movies when someone can just magically-"

>At that point, a dull click reached the ear you had hovered over the lock, you turn your tools sideways and slide the lock open.

"Ha! Still got it."

>Domestic locks are easy.

>"... Well I'll be damned."

>A self congratulating smirk worked its way onto your lips, if there's one thing you had learned from observing Teth'ra and her squad, it's that anthros struggle with pinpoint dexterity due to the claws. Something like lockpicking must seem like quite a sight to her.

>Of course, you aren't one to be particularly gracious in victory. So with an exaggerated show of the hands, you make a grand gesture out of your simple task.

"See! Subtlety! Isn't that nice?"

>"*snrk* Says the man who pilots a fucking building."

>You're already testing the deadbolt, it's just a matter of finding that same angle that worked on the other lock, but the extra weight of the mechanism makes the process of turning it more finicky. But while you're at it, you aren't going to take that little slight lying down.

"Aw come on, that's not the only trick in my bag."

>"No. It's just your second biggest."

"Oh har har h-.. Wait. Second biggest? The hell would my first be then?"

>"The trick you satisfy the girls with, of course."

>...

>Did you hear that right?

>You cock a brow and stare deadpan at her. She looks like she's either hoping you play along with it, or just realized that her delivery completely failed to connect.

>"Aheh.. Bad joke. Sorry."

>Satisfying a woman, now there was something you hadn't thought about in a long while, largely because none of them satisfied you.

>You've always had a bubbling disgust seasoned with experience for your past attempts at finding someone to complete you.

>Teth'ra knows you well enough, so it doesn't seem harmful to let some of it drip as you futz with the deadbolt.

"Oh believe me- Little satisfaction to be found there."

>"What, Really?!"

>That response was... a little eager, might just be the impatience of wanting to get in and take control coloring her speech.

>Still, you pause in your work and quirk a brow at her again.

>"I meaaannnnn. I'm not asking for specifics or anything, buuut."

>The specifics didn't matter, all of them blended into a mess of 'me, me, me!' anyways. It was never about what you wanted, and more of that toxic ichor leaks out of you with a growling huff.

"Let's just say. The pools I dipped into turned out to be shallow and well used."

>"Eugh"

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

>That telltale click sounded again, and carefully you turned the bolt aside.

"Annd there's the deadbolt."

>Rising off your knee, you turn the knob and slide the door open while stepping out of the way.

>She makes a half-strength effort of hiding the charmed grin wearing into her muzzle while settling her gun into an easier position.

>"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now step aside, short stuff. And stay behind me!"

"Yes mooom."

>"*tsch* Smartass."

>As opposed to last time, Teth'ra seems to be trying her best to be relatively quiet this time around, no thundering march of an almost 8 foot tall jackal with a howitzer tucked under her arm.

>Watching the towering woman taking slow, creeping steps while her tail hovers in various positions to help her balance is almost amusing, knowing how loud and borderline klutzy she is normally.

>You have far less issue stalking around, your equipment doesn't make nearly as much noise, and you're probably half her weight.

>Of course, she told you to stay behind her, and you aren't inclined to go striking out on your own outside of your metal warlord. So you settle for quietly checking her flanks as she takes the lead.

>As she carefully lurches around the front foyer leading into the living room, you skitter around panning over closets, doorways, and any and all dark corners.

>Everything plays out like a slower, more methodical repeat of the previous rush, at least for the ground floor.

>Whenever one of you makes an errant noise, more often Teth'ra than you, you freeze and listen, but nothing creeps out of the silence.

>The air is deathly still, and you almost wish for the thumping rush of the usual fare, at least there you wouldn't have time to think on your death, should it happen.

>You make a slow circling of the ground floor, checking every nook large enough to shelter something deadly.

>The two of you have just finished checking the dining room, when something catches your attention, or rather, her attention.

>Her voice grabs you with a harsh hiss as she grates out an urgent whisper, pausing you in your tread.

>"Shhh!... You hear that?"

>Holding back your breath, you stop and focus, but try as you might, you aren't hearing anything.

"I don-"

>"Shhh!..."

>Turning your attention to her, you see that she's completely frozen aside from the mad twitching of her ears.

>She has picked up on something too distant and muffled to register with you. Those eloping, triangular ears are something else.

>"I hear something moving. Sounds like... claws."

"Where?"

>"Up. It's too faint to pick out exactly where, but it's above us somewhere."

>Before you can offer protest and suggest calling for assistance, she's already moving.

>She's hesitant now to drop the sneaking around, so while she's moving quicker, her hunter's instincts are reinforcing your subtle methodology.

>You're glad that at least something of your suggestions have gotten through to her, you feel less like you're just along for the ride when she's taking it slow.

>The two of you circle around to the stairwell at the front of the house, but something comes to mind as she mounts the first step.

>Trying to keep silent when sneaking up stairs isn't an issue if you're allowed to use your hands, but both of you have to keep your guns pointed up, and that sort of awkward gait could be difficult to balance right.

>With how ungainly large she looks in these close quarters, the possibility of her losing her balance and tumbling backwards looks more like an inevitability.

>She takes a few more steps of this awkward crab walk when one of her knees wobble and she halts to steady herself.

>You are now keenly aware that if she looses balance completely, she'll tumble backwards into you, and you don't want to find out the hard way how much she weighs.

"Teth! Hold up a second."

>"What?"

"Let me go ahead of you."

>"Why?"

"I don't want you tumbling into me if you lose your balance."

>"I don't want you tumbling into me either. Besides, I have the armor, and the bigger gun, I go first."

>With that, she resumes her huddle up the stairs, legs coiling as she carefully stalks up. It's difficult not to stare as the fabric of her pants gets clingy with her backside.

>More pressing matters help your vision not to get caught in the trap of enticement, namely the possibility of bugs scrabbling around upstairs and the fact that if she does fall backwards the impact and subsequent landing would probably collapse your ribs.

>Just as you're resolved to sticking behind her and making headway up the stairs yourself, she misplaces a foot and her more forward leg slides out from under her.

>Your heart skips a beat.

>As she starts teetering backwards into the inevitable fumble, her left arm braces outward, grasping onto the wooden handrail and gripping it hard, attempting to hang her weight off of it to arrest her fall.

>It seems to have worked, as with a clinking and a slight squeek of varnished wood sliding against skin, she's able to hold herself up in a secure, but awkward looking position.

>Both of you let your lungs air out in relief, and then you paused again as the mutual worry surfaced over if the bugs heard that.

>You don't hear anything, and the direction less tracking of the jackal's ears tells you she doesn't hear anything either.

"You see why I should go first? If I fall into you, no harm done, you're built like a tank. If you fall into me, you could crush me."

>She's turned her head to look back down at you, her face splayed is a bewildered stare. And she continues the hiss of your whispering exchange.

>"Are you calling me fat?!"

>...

"Is now really the fucking time for that!?!"

>"...no. Sorry."

>"Shit! Okay, you're right, just, shuffle on ahead of me. I gotta figure out how to regain my balance here."

>For now, she doesn't move, careful to let you by before she does anything that could potentially result in her falling.

>There's just one issue.

>She's taking up most of the stairwell.

>If she could maybe just shuffle her right leg in a bit, even if most of her weight is leaned on it now as she pulls this hanging half-squat since her left leg shot out from under her and is currently outstretched, then maybe you can safely squeeze by her.

>But at present, you don't see how that would be feasible.

>"Well? What are you waiting for?"

"For you to fuckin' move."

>"I am not falling over myself just so you have an easier time of it, you have space, just shove your way through."

"You're taking up most of the damn stairwell."

>"I'm also trying not to injure my back sprawling over myself on the way down. Shut up and deal."

>It's ridiculous, while the right side doesn't have a handrail to complicate things, there isn't enough space to move past her without issue even if you flatten against the wall.

>You're going to have to push against her and those titanic legs.

>Might as well not keep her waiting. You flatten against the wall and suck in your stomach, trying to thin yourself out as much as possible to squeeze past her.

>You feel the press against your legs as you move in, it's awkward having to sidle past her while still attempting to keep low and slow so as not to alert the enemy that could be just around the corner for all you know.

>Soon the smooth give stops giving, you've pressed past her cushioning and hit the solid wall of flexed muscle beneath.

>This is quickly going to get difficult, you need more leverage to force past if you don't want to get pinned.

>"I don't have all day! I'm gonna get a hell of a cramp like this."

"I'm trying woman!"

>You tense and throw your hips to the side trying to slide through, but the space available is getting tighter as you move aside the bulk of her hips.

>You think you've found a good point to help you out, the point where her leg forms a crease against her torso at the top of her hip. Pushing against it should give you the leverage you need to make this go by faster. You lay hands on the top of her hip and ready to push off.

>"W-What are you doing?"

"Getting a good push off point so this goes faster, now shut up and deal."

>She briefly looks like she wants to offer rebuttal, but closes her maw as her own logic meets her.

>With a restrained grunt, you manage to scrape forward, the pressure on your leading side letting off.

>You shimmy a bit more, and mange to work your way out, and quickly you make the trek up the rest of the stairs.

>Immediately you hear her start to move as you crouch at the corner to the hallway going off to the left. It doesn't take long for her to join you.

>"See anything?" You make a short survey of the space around the corner, seeing 4 open doors and the dim shade only lifted by light from the windows, no bugs to be seen.

"Nothing. So if you heard them, where the hell are they?"

>"shhh... It's still above us."

>How the hell could you miss a bug on the roof? No, no, that can't be it, maybe there's some sort of attic.

>You let your gaze coast along the ceiling, until you sight a square divot cut into the plaster of the ceiling.

>The most prominent question raises to mind as you mentally measure the size of the trap door: would a bug even fit up there?

"In the attic? How the hell did it even get up there?"

>"How should I know? I'm not a xenobiologist, I just shoot the fuckers."

>Neither of you had an answer, but you have to clear this fucking place, and the attic is part of it.

>If you find more than a handful of bugs you can just book it and call for backup, or maybe Teth'ra can just toss a grenade through the door.

>The two of you move into the hall, taking particular care to make as little noise as possible.

>Much to your relief, the hallways is double-wide, not nearly as narrow as the stairwell, so you can comfortably move past Teth'ra and vice versa.

>Rubbing up against eachother in a tight space is not something you want to have a repeat performance of when potential death is looming right over your head.

-but maybe later~-

>Down, you little bastard!

>Why are you even thinking like this? She's an anthro! She may be the best friend you could ask for out here, but at the end of the day you can't quite picture yourself with a woman of tooth and fur, no matter how... sculpted her body is.

>It's not easy, something pulls you towards her, but you're entirely unsure if she would ever want to go further than what you already have.

>The two of you are different species, she doesn't think of you that way, so you won't think of her that way.

>For now, you're happy to just keep what you have, despite that empty piece clamoring to go looking for something more.

>You've learned to stuff it down and quiet it, and more current matters are on your mind, matters that you can't afford to be distracted from.

>The two of you creep under the attic door, you eye that dangling cord like the trigger to a bomb.

>"Okay... I still hear something up there. I'll watch the opening, and you yank down that cord when I say go. Understand?"

"Yeah. Just uh... Let's try to be careful, aight?"

>She gives a short nod, and shoulders her weapon, training it upwards at the door, the moment of truth is about here.

>"Alright, go!"

>You pull down hard on the cord, and the door drops away, sliding out a ladder with a loud clatter. You expected a bug to drop out, but instead you're met with some sort of flickering light filtering from the opening.

>You're about to consider maybe peering around and checking it in further detail when something cracks through the air just above your head, and the report of a small detonation rings out.

"SHIT!"

>You dive into the floor, hoping like hell you weren't hit by...

>Wait, that was a gunshot! That means people! You just stumbled onto a survivor!

>Of course, he still shot at you.

"FRIENDLY!!! FRIENDLY!!! WE'RE HUMAN!! Stop shooting you fucking idiot!"

>Your breath heaves, and your nervous heart stutters, but you pick yourself off the floor feeling bizarrely elated, you had found someone alive.

>Then you heard another sound, a small, shrill cry punctuated by a gentle shushing. Are there are children up there?

>a hoarse voice calls out from the attic, a male, weak and likely exhausted.

>"Are-are you... Really here?"

>The man is likely delirious and exhausted, you have to speak softly and talk him into putting down his weapon.

"Yes sir. We're with the EDF, we're here to help. Now can I ask you to put the gun down?"

>"I.. how do I know you're not.. looters? I'm not leavin'... my family."

>For all you know, his family could be gone, or almost gone, that crying from earlier was heavily leaning you towards a kid being up there with him.

>You want to help, but your inexperience dealing with this sort of thing has you guessing circles around yourself.

>Think, think! What the hell would your moral philosophy teacher do here?

>Probably spout some shit about empathy, but it's the best you got, he's scared, tired, and likely fairly close to death from months of isolation, you need to appeal to his humanity.

"Look, I'm not hear to hurt you, I know you're scared, tired, and probably think this is too good to be true."

"But we're here, and it's real, you probably heard a lot of noise a while ago, that was us running the bugs out of town. There's no need for violence now sir, you're safe."

>As you wait for a response, you check towards Teth'ra for any help. Currently she's quietly speaking into her handset about something that you can't really pay attention to at the moment. You guess that she must be getting someone to send medical personnel over here.

>Something pulls at you to help this man, and you aren't certain why.

>Perhaps just because it is the right thing to do, and his weary raspings sound so distraught and pathetic, somewhat like Teth'ra's overpowering bawling that night in the rain.

>"How-How I'm I 'sposed to know... yah, yah could be... uh..."

"I don't mean you any harm sir. It's going to be okay."

>"If it was okay, those damn monsters wouldn't have ever fallen from the sky. They- They wouldn't have... oh god."

>His words are burdened with a heavy tone of pain and horror, this things he must have seen when he was left behind with the bugs.

-the people he must have lost-

"It's been hard, I know. No one has had an easy time. But it's over now, you're safe."

>"That's what they said the first time... we-we're not safe, we're never safe!"

>The months following the fall of Anchorage saw defensive effort after defensive effort overrun, it only ended with a valiant defense mounted from fort Sumter just north of Vancouver, supported by an intensive bombing campaign from the airforce.

>Towns were razed into ashes from above, no care was given to the possibility of survivors deep in the cordon, but here they were.

>Tired, scared, and suffering, not unlike you were. Maybe this is how Teth'ra felt when you first met, and like her, you don't just have to say you're here to help, you have to show them.

>The jackal seems intent on continuing an increasingly active discussion over the radio, but she pauses immediately as you place a boot on the first step of the ladder.

>"What the hell are you doing?" She mouths.

>You hiss back in a whisper.

"Helping!"

>"He's scared and has a gun, stay put."

"I can talk to him!"

>"You can also get SHOT!... don't you-"

>You turn away from her pleading mouthing, placing another foot up the ladder. You wheel your revolver in your grip, turning it upside down and holding it lightly by the handle.

>What was she trying to teach you if not to listen more to your empathy? Even with the danger.

>Her silent pleas become more vocal now, with a choked whisper.

>"Tom!... TOM!... SHIT!"

>inhale, count to four, exhale

>You just have to ease him down enough that you can at least make him give up the weapon.

>Don't present yourself as a threat.

>You announce yourself loudly.

"Alright, I'm coming up sir."

>"H-How do I know you're not gonna-"

"I'm unarmed. See?"

>You hold your hands just high enough that they should be peeking over the ladder into the opening where he's aiming.

"Human too, just like I said. This isn't a trick. There's no need for the gun, I'm harmless."

>Course, you were lying through your teeth at that last bit, you chose the flipped grip because it would be extremely quick to just flick the gun back upright and fire. Something a civvy scared out of his mind wouldn't be thinking about.

>Best to have a precaution, just in case.

>"A-Alright, but don't do anything sudden now."

>If he thinks he can order you around, he's in for a big surprise, but you have to calm him down enough that he won't be attacking the medics when they get here.

>The rickety wooden ladder groans softly as you work your way up, Your head emerges into a humid space bathed in the glow of a single flickering candle.

>Adjusting to the dancing light, you lay eyes forward towards the gaunt husk of a man, sitting on his haunches in front of an overturned dresser. A beaten in polymer handgun shakes in his loose grip. His wild, mangy fur clings to a tired, twitching visage.

<Teth'ra>

>shit

>Shit!

>SHIT!!!

>He's up there in immediate danger! A civvy with a gun is unpredictable, a scared one doubly so.

>Idiot! You should have just gone with your instincts and pulled him away as soon as he tried to start with that shit, even if it did scare him.

>Your breath starts coming in rapidly as you feel a gripping anxiety coursing over everything. What would you even do with yourself if you lost him?!

>You can't do this again! You can't lose someone that means so much to you.

>He's currently standing halfway up the ladder up into the attic, frozen. That bastard must be pointing the gun at him!

>That consideration comes up to pull him down out of the way, but you can't beat a bullet for speed, the sudden movement would set off that nervous wreck up there.

>Oh Gods! All you can do is sit helpless and watch. Nothing in your training covered what the hell you were supposed to do here.

>One thing is clear, approaching survivors more than one at a time is asking for trouble, so now that he's gone ahead, you can't move.

>The original plan was to wait on the medics getting here, they're far more readily trained for something like this.

>"Sergeant Magual?... Magual? Is everything okay?" The radio chirps with the jumping tin of static. Remembering yourself briefly, you thumb the transmit button.

"You better get those medics here, NOW."

>"Understood, sergeant."

>Now you had nothing to do but wait on shuddering breath. Damn, you're almost hyperventilating. Just calm down girl, calm down!

>He can handle himself, maybe he'll be put together enough to talk the nervous idiot down. Maybe that gun is out of ammo now.

>But if that civvy hurts your Tom, you don't care if the ladder would shatter under you, you're coming up there and squeezing the life from him.

>You hate this feeling, this feeling has taken so much of what you loved most from you. The feeling of being powerless.

<Tom>

>You freeze.

>Small, twitching ears sit atop an unkempt mess of matted hazel fur. The snowy white adorning his face almost forms into some sort of inhuman facial hair.

>It's a lynx, and it has a loaded weapon leveled right at you.

>This isn't good.

-take action-

>You consider your options.

>It would be a simple matter to just wheel your gun about and fire, but would you be fast enough?

>His shaky aim doesn't matter this close, and the slightest errant move could set off those murderous instincts.

>He isn't approaching you either, just... staring. It's a stand off.

>This isn't some spaghetti western, there's no way you're fast enough, the better options are looking less... confrontational.

>No words are coming to mind right now, so you slide your gaze around trying to find something to prompt you towards a better option.

>Your eyes slide off his disheveled clothing onto a darker caramel shade behind him. It belongs to a figure quivering almost out of sight behind the overturned dresser.

>A thin, waifish figure, wearing a pastel dress.

>The crying from earlier comes rushing back, this isn't some isolated bundle of nerves.

>Your eyes slide back up, and you meet the weathered amber sitting in his head. You don't see intent or cunning in them.

>You see a raw, unfiltered terror. This isn't an animal, an animal would snarl and hiss and bite. This is a man trying his hardest to keep something safe.

>A man trying to protect his family. The female behind him is curled protectively over something hidden from view, it must be their children.

>You were seriously considering firing on a man just trying to keep his family behind him... because he was an anthro.

>All those little things Teth'ra had been trying to tell you snap in the back of your head.

>What the hell were you doing? How the hell did you get like this?

>You aren't just hiding from them anymore, you're threatening them.

>And they're scared. You're the aggressor now. How disappointed in you would she be if she knew what you were thinking, how betrayed would she feel?

>Maybe she was right, something has to change.

>Your glare softens, and you find your voice.

"Teth'ra?"

>"Wha-! What?" Some intense worry clings to her voice, her initial vocalization almost sounded like some sort of alarm bark.

>Guilt coils around your chest, the things you must be putting her through right now, but you can at least share the good news.

"Teth, there's a whole family up here."

>...You can't hear anything else from her aside from some indeterminate shuffle in the area underneath you. You hope she's doing something to help.

>For now you just have to talk the lynx down. The best option you can think of is appealing towards a common ground, the fear of losing someone close.

"Those your kids back there sir?"

>For once he takes his eyes off you, twitching his head back to check on the woman before snapping back towards you.

>"Yeah, w-what about it?"

"How long have they been up here?"

>His eyes dart low, and you read a glimmer of thought dancing around them as he reflects.

>"I-I couldn't count the days... We scavenged food for 'em when we could but..."

>Although this place is one of the less torn up settlements within the cordon, they would have been trapped here for months.

>With so little opportunity to move freely to find food and shelter, they were hanging to life by threads. His disheveled appearance was proof of that, and looking back, that crying earlier was a very small fuss for a small child to make over the noise from a discharged firearm.

"They're not very active? Not vocalizing much?"

>"How did you?"

"They've been up here for a long time without much food, haven't they?"

>He nods slowly, and you offer the olive branch.

"The medics are on the way, we can get them help. Just put down the gun."

"Trust me."

>The glimmer of tears starts forming at his eyes, and he gently lowers the weapon, dropping it on the scuffed hardwood.

>"Please."

---

>You looked on at the scratchy figures being tended to by three troopers wearing the red cross on their sleeves.

>To think, a family of five trapped in the cordon for who knows how long. How were they still alive?

>You guess that old by-word for survivors, 'miracles', still applies. You can only hope they don't slide into the other side of the coin: 'tragedies'.

>After he dropped the gun, the father managed to coax his wife out of the corner despite the tears slicking his face.

>She was a thin rail of a woman, sheltering a pair of almost ghoulish children at knee height, and a swaddle of blankets clutched against her chest.

>The medics had been swarming the little tikes for the past half hour. If you were in their position, you'd do the same thing.

>Teth'ra was leaned on the wall next to you. The sense of tension from her was contagious, every new development in the crowding of medics had her ear flicking and her back hovering slightly further off the wall, she was coiled like a spring.

>Your attempts at providing practical knowledge on dogs to sooth her were pushed away, seems she's not in the mood for neck scratches.

>Sure, you did get the sense that touching her like you would a pet is vaguely insulting, but you really have no idea what to do otherwise, especially when she responded so well to that same sort of touch before.

>Everything about her is just... different.

>Watching the red crosses scuttle in and out has you worried, all of them looked so very fragile, and you can't be sure any of them will survive.

>They may be anthros, but no one deserves something like this, least of all the children.

>After a while of waiting on baited breath, one of the medics made their report. They were reasonably stable for now, if exhausted and starved.

>A transport was waiting outside to ship them off to a field hospital for better treatment, but for now, they just needed a little while and some food before they moved.

>The medics took their leave. Letting the two of you finally breath easy, and giving the family some time to themselves.

>You turned your head into the wintery glow from the curtains, through a gap, you could already see various figures gathering outside including officers and a few figures with cameras.

>Journalists, a bunch of buzzards drawn to tragedy like flies. You always had a distaste for the pushy beatniks, they can never just leave people to mourn.

>That was the one small blessing, they never came to you all this time. Either the story of your soul survivor status wasn't public, or perhaps the hounds grew a sense of integrity and left you alone out of respect.

>Guess you just take cover in here until your rescues are ready to leave.

>Both of the parents were looking more alert and awake, and the kittens are starting to move on their own, the mother still protectively clutches at her youngest kit despite the shaking in her legs.

>The father steadily supports her as she moves towards the both of you.

>"My wife an-... We both have something to say... To the both of you."

>The woman steps forward, quivering gently like a leaf in a spring breeze.

>"Thank you. We were... so scared for so long. When they came, we couldn't get on any of the convoys out. The soldiers looked so scared, but they told those of us that were left to hide."

>The man lowers his voice, so his children behind him in the kitchen can't overhear.

>"We ran... Came back here to our old home and hid away in the attic. And the screaming, oh God the screaming..."

>"Days later, the bombs came, everything shook... and we just had to pray it wasn't us that would be hit."

>"I would sneak away when we couldn't hear anything from the bugs to scavenge something for the little ones."

>His breath has grown jittery, and tears roll off his nose.

>"There were so many times that I thought this might be the end... I... I always made sure to keep five bullets in that gun..."

>"O-One for each of us..."

>"We spent so long just trying to scrape by, I-I didn't believe either of you were real."

>His voice has degraded into a jagged whisper as the cat breaks down.

>"Thank you, thank you so much! I never thought we'd see rescue!"

>The wildcat takes jaunting steps forward with his arms wide and you tense. He falls into you, clasping his arms over your back and wracking his frail body with a powering sob.

>You didn't feel much against your chest, the anemic cat barely weighs anything.

-what is this? why isn't he agressive?-

>You don't know.

>"I'm sorry for threatening you, both of you. You've done so much!"

>All you did was stumble into the attic, stare at him, and ask him to put his gun away so the medics could tend to his absolutely decimated family. It wasn't much.

>And here you are being praised like Atlas for holding up the world. Almost familiar, from looking back on what you had done for Teth'ra.

>The woman finds tears in her own eyes, and her strength fades her as she teeters forward. The jackal is quick to catch her by the shoulders before she falls.

>"Are you okay ma'am?"

>"I-I can't seem to hold myself up, can I?" She offers the bundle up to Teth'ra. "I just need to rest, it's been so long. H-here, take him."

>The jackal is stunned, gentle shock has fallen over her, and she crawls her hands forward to accept.

>"Do you know how?"

>The woman's gentle voice prompts a flick of the ears, calling the jackal back out of her trance. Teth'ra manages to find her wits and respond. You try to ignore the bereaved wreck clinging onto you to spectate this strange occurrence.

>"Oh, uh. Of course, I know how to hold him."

>The mother gently passes the tiny bundle towards the jackal, her massive arms cradle under the microscopic life like the seabed shifting to welcome a lost ship.

>Her eyes are alight with some deep wonder as the tiny kit is lowered to her, she shelters it with a featherweight care in the crux of her arm.

>Watching something so large care so gently for something so small is like watching a comet pass. You can't stop staring in case it never happens again in your lifetime.

>She rises gently, cradling the little bundle of fur against her bosom, it's a hammer taken to a pin, but she's so gentle the difference doesn't seem to matter. The tiny thing hardly stirs.

>Your breath has calmed somewhat watching her, but your musing over what this simple act means to the jackal is interrupted as the lynx steps over, embracing you and her still sorrowful husband.

>"And as for you, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Because of you, our children have a future."

>Her rasping cries bury into both you and the other furry mass hanging off of you, her own weight barely adds anything onto your load.

>It's starting to become a habit of having hysterical anthros hanging off your shoulders.

>You don't get this, how can they be so...

-human-

>...

>Just had to hit the nail on the head, didn't we?

-...-

>Having two sets of foreign claws near you isn't exactly setting you at ease. With how malnourished and desperate they are, they hardly seem a threat anymore, but sharp bits are sharp bits.

>You look to the jackal for maybe some help or reassurance, she looks up from the bundle cradled in her arms and mouths something.

>"They need this."

>What fantastic help she is... But you can't level any blame at her.

>Carefully, you lower your arms around the pair hanging off you as they cry at eachother. You still aren't sure what to make of this.

>The two cats are starting to calm, but their vocal sides have given way to soft, if incoherent blubbering.

>By your best guess, just being there for the civilians is enough to placate them, so for now you quietly deal with the emotional weathering.

>Teth'ra continues to cradle the kitten like it's irreplaceable, some fay light glimmers in her eyes. A light you've only seen a few times before.

>That time you first met, and when you stood by her during her confession in the rain, that light was a bright and deep joy.

>She coos at the kit gently, using a single finger to gently trace its fur. The picture of serenity has come to her by way of a slight smile tugging up the corners of her mouth.

-look at her, she wants one of her own-

>Even if you thought of her like that, it's not like you could ever give her any. Just more reason for you to stay out of her romantic affairs.

>It was confusing before, but it seems as deeply as she cares for you, you're more like a best friend or beloved sibling.

-there was those passes from before-

>Passes?... They were more like quips, joking teases just to prod you into a more energetic conversation.

>She's a jackal, you're human, those lines just don't cross. Especially dealing with a subspecies as rare and fastidious about self image as royals.

>Better to just move along and keep looking for 'the one' to show her face again.

>Still, watching Teth'ra fawn over the tiny thing tugs at something in the pit of your heart, and you breath deep to shoo it away.

>The parents have fallen towards collecting themselves as their hysterics have mellowed out into sniffling and light tears.

>They mutter a few borderline unintelligible thank yous and finally peel themselves away from you to tend to their other two children.

>Finally you can breath free, and you return to your nonchalant lean against the wall.

>"Feels good to help, doesn't it?"

>You have to raise a brow at the jackal, although your inner peace keeper kept telling you this was the right thing, you just didn't get that light fluttering feeling they describe in the movies.

>This didn't feel elative or wonderful, it just felt a little depressive. These people are likely traumatized, to be haunted the rest of their lives by this, and it's doubtful if they'll ever truly return home.

>You can't help but remember the crater that was once the town hall, practically just down the road. How many survivors may have been hiding in the murky basements down there, only to be obliterated by allied airpower.

>This family was likely the only survivors in this town, and even that was a stroke of luck.

"I guess."

>"What do you mean'I guess'?"

>She's moved closer towards you now, her smile has been shied away by the concern dressing her face.

"I just... I don't know. They've been through hell, so many died. What difference have we even made?"

>She steps forward, leaning down and almost presenting her cradled arms to you.

>"This is the difference. Because of us, because of you, he has a future."

>Swaddled in a bundle of sky blue cotton is a puff of roasted hazel fur with a cherubic face. Triangular ears the size of thimbles sit atop its head.

>The tiny form breaths gently, taking in spoonfuls of air with the occasional yawn from a finger-width mouth.

>It flies in the face of all the fears plaguing you about their kind, he's so peaceful. Maybe you're wrong.

>"Go ahead, touch him."

>Something about this minuscule lynx actually has you dragging your hand upwards towards the jackal's gentle hold.

>He looks the very picture of calm, you almost hate to bring yourself near it. Like your very breath could upset it all, warping the mirror-still image of a pond.

>It all looks so fragile, so you feather the touch with only a single finger, tussling the fluff of cottony fur.

>It reaches up with its little toothpick of an arm, and seizes a grip around your finger.

>His grip is surprisingly firm for such a small being. To be so small, so frail, but still persist through this.

>It crosses your mind, a vision of a white flower standing untrampled in a shell churned field. Life goes on, and it's hard to snuff every last facet.

>"I think he likes you."

>You look up to see her almost boring a hole into you, the air seems charged as your eyes meet.

>You swear those eyes are shining like diamonds at this point.

"What?"

>"Nothing."

>Your breath pauses, she's still staring, transfixed into your eyes with an almost gleeful grin. What is she...

"What?!"

>"Nothing!"

>...

"Riiight."

>She finally breaks the contact with a turn of her head and a gentle laugh, guess holding the kid has really set her mood high.

>"I just... These people finally have a chance to live free of this hell because of us."

>You gently pet the bundle with your finger as it trills happily. This kitten, this baby, wouldn't even be alive if the two of you weren't here today.

>That little something does bring a smile creeping up the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, I guess it does feel good."

>You pull away from the kit and let Teth take him back to his parents, the mother probably wants to hold on as tight as she can to the little thing as long as she can.

>Soon they're rested enough to at least take the walk out to the transport, Teth'ra keeps her hands on the woman's shoulders in case her legs fail her again.

>The father and the other two kids stay more towards the jackal's side as you walk ahead.

>You can already see through the curtains the number of figures cluttered outside, many of them with the boxy silhouettes of cameras hung about their necks.

>The glorified paparazzi that is the typical preening war journalist. The good ones are rarer than diamonds in a grit pile.

-these vultures need to leave-

>You rest a hand on the door handle, and take one last look back at the place, somehow it seems to be aired in a different light than when you snuck in here.

>The entire family looks haggard, but happy to be alive, except for the kitten, he looks just plain content. You suppose he's too young to even remember any of this through the innocence of youth.

>How you envy to have a life that simple again.

>You slide the door open, and the light outside is almost blinding to your sensitive eyes, before you can shut them fully, the flash of a camera sneaks in and sets you over the edge into a void of bleached white. Fucking paparazzi parasites, you swear that was on purpose.

>With a groan of frustration you squint your eyes and try to rub away the blindness. You can hear over the clatter of photo-shutters and flash bulbs that your charges are already being mobbed with questions.

>There's a scuffling of boots ahead, no doubt keeping the leeches away from the fresh blood. One pair seems to thunder above the others, you can hazard a guess at who that is.

>Color starts bleaching back into your vision. You see a wake of coats in an array of dirty colors advancing with caution behind a large form crested with grey and gold, protectively lording over the anemic shades of hazel under her.

>An engine starts, and a pair of doors slam shut. You shut your eyes and try to shake yourself back into being able to see shapes clearly.

>You find yourself standing dazed on the concrete doorstep. Teth'ra makes her way back to you as the crowd of journalists trails after the leaving truck like wild dogs.

>Before you can really get your bearings again, something warm ensnares your hand. Your shoulders jump in surprise and you find your hand in an unwilling shake with some raven-haired dame wearing one of the most ridiculous petticoats you've ever seen, the whole fucking thing is a neon shade of scarlet.

>"Esmeralda, Esmeralda Reaver, Capital Press."

>Goddamnit.

>"So You're the one responsible for rescuing the hundred mile miracles? Hmmm, quite the hero aren't you? Misterrrr..."

>Hundred mile miracles? Hero? The hell is this woman on about? She probably just wants your name for the official report before it inevitably goes to editing and gets hacked into pieces.

"Tom.. er- McWhicky, Master Sergeant McWhicky."

>You stare down at the bewildering little woman, her mouth runs a mile a minute and she's dressed like a cartoon. Is she even real?

>"Tom huh? Rustic, but charming. I like it~."

-is she coming on to us?-

>What the fu-

>"So how do you want to be credited? Savior? Defender of the free world? Hero to the downtrodden? Oh! How about a dashing rouge? Ladies *love* that."

>She is getting too damn close, too damn fast. You practically have whiplash just from speaking with her, and this overeager manic nature is setting you off ease.

"Look, I don't-"

>"I know, high nerves, just got through with the rescue, coasting through the fame, probably just need a chance to uh... relax."

>She makes in her coat for a clipboard and pen, the top few buttons of her coat are undone, and her arms squeeze her cleavage together as she rummages.

>That was on purpose.

>"You can find me in that little bar they're setting up uptown, we can have a few drinks. Your treat~. Now before I go, care to make a statement hot stuff?"

>She gives a sly wink, and you do all you can not to visibly cringe.

-this is either a honeypot or the easiest lay we've had in years-

>Your instincts are screaming that this is a giant chunk of bait being waved right in front of you, this has gone way too fast.

"No comment."

>"ooooh, come on. I-"

>*MH-HEM*

>She was interrupted by a forcibly loud throat clearing just off to the right, the source of it being a rather displeased jackal.

-oh thank God!-

>Teth'ra scowled at the upstart, who looked like a child compared to the giant. The reporter barely came up to Teth's stomach.

>"Oh... Well... You're a big woman."

>Her voice was markedly slower now, colored by a malt of fear over the angry tower looming over her. The jackal smirked intently, and the scarlet voyeur made an attempt at ducking into her coat.

>"And you're a very small one." She grabs firm hold of the smaller woman's hand, seemingly offered out of habit. "Sergeant Magual."

>"*Very* pleased to meet you."

>The tiny woman's hand is completely swallowed in Teth'ra's grey fist, and you swear you can hear popping from how hard she's squeezing the reporter's limp fish.

>An undeniable venom hung in the air from her voice, thankfully she doesn't appreciate this horny scourge either.

>She releases the be-coated villain from her grip and goes back to crossing her arms under her bust and glowering at her.

>The beacon of restraint and integrity that is this crackpot journalist manages to squeek out a little something extra.

>"Well uh.. n-nice to meet you. And,uh. Tom, if you uh... wouldn't mind me giving you my n-nuh-"

>She was stopped cold as Teth'ra blew an angry huff and nailed her hands to her shoulders. The woman's entire body jolts as she's led away.

>"You heard the man: No comment! Now. GET."

>And with a gentle shove (as gentle as over 7 feet of muscle and quietly restrained anger can manage) she's off, speed walking along the chipped sidewalk and visibly intimidated.

>She turns back to try and get a word in only to be greeted by an agitated rumble brewing in the jackal's throat, and goes right back to walking away.

>Teth really wants her gone, and you're fine with that, you got the sense that woman was trouble.

>Soon she's out of earshot.

>"Hmph, withering little skank."

"The hell was that about?"

>You had an inkling why. There's no damn way she approached like that clean of an ulterior motive.

"A whore! Willing to sleep around for the big scoop for the propanda presses. I got no respect for these leeches."

>Glad to see your friend is on the same uptake, the more you thought it over, the more her point made sense.

>Most of the media these days were just racing eachother for what made the best propaganda. Pleasing central with easily digestible fallacies of victory on the front lines was the name of the game now.

>Gone were the days of reporting on what was actually going on in the war.

>It disgusted you to think on how many might be enlisting into this hell out of a false image of the war.

"Yeah, I don't like their type either."

>You watch the journalist disappear out of view, and just like that the excitement bleeds away. It's just you and Teth again now.

>You turn your gaze to the right, and the long row of houses of in that direction greets you with dread.

>There is another team coming from the opposite way in the street, you can see two figure in the distance approaching one of the homes.

>They can handle it, you don't have to do more of this yourself... right?

>Teth'ra said that if you found something than it was mission accomplished and another team would take over from there. So your work should be done here.

>Can't hurt to double check though.

"So. That's that then. No more house clearing... right?"

-please say we're done-

>"Yeah, we're done. The medics told me we are officially relieved from duty for tonight. Nothing more to do."

>A night off, after the miasma of this past week it sounds like a welcome change.

>Kicking your feet up, maybe scavenging some alcohol from the local liquor cabinets to refill your stash, and having NOTHING to do otherwise.

>Maybe once the power to town is back on you can even catch some cable tv, and just for a night, pretend you're home.

>It would be nice to just forget the war for a precious few hours.

>Wait... There is that bar in town, it's likely just some ratty little affair of a still setup in a statehouse, and you do have to pay for the liquor rather than ransack it from the nearest cabinet, but you could find some friends to make.

>But that damn reporter could take it as a sign you're anything but weirded out, and last thing you need tonight is fending off a drunk idiot instead of enjoying yourself.

>There is Teth'ra, but lately she had been around her squad constantly, and you can't bring yourself to relax around them.

"Yup... nothing to do."

>Looks like your night is going to be spent on a chair in a cleared house made barracks being bored.

>Then again, how hard could it be to check out the bar and avoid one woman in an obnoxiously red coat? They could even serve Guinness that didn't taste like warm pig swill.

>Between everything related to Vilka, minimizing interaction with anthros in general, and dodging Vegelta whenever he came looking for you to play matchmaker, you had become an expert in avoiding people.

>But, if they didn't have any good liquor then what was the point?

>"You aren't seriously considering going with her. Are you?"

>You look up to find her with her tumb hooked in her pocket and a look of quiet worry over her.

>That begs the question: what the hell would you even do if not go to the bar? There really isn't anything else, but you would be putting yourself within striking range of that woman...

>You don't even know what that still spits out, and you could probably find better just by raiding the liquor cabinet under whatever roof your bunked under tonight.

"...no."

>"Good, then you won't mind hanging out with me tonight."

>Well there's a new option. You have to wonder if 'me' includes the connotation of her squad too, she had been awfully insistent on exposing you to them for the past five days.

"uhhh yeah, but your squad?"

>"*sigh* I could honestly use a break from them at this point. It's been a non-stop back and forth between Feldspar and Duran, I'm sick of it."

"They seemed quiet when I was around."

>"Yeah! Because they know if they set you off, they answer to me. The twins are content to play neutral party, and as for the other two, they're just kids really. And I can't step inbetween them and settle it myself or they'll accuse me of playing favorites. Again!"

>She had sheltered you away from everything, she did more for you than you ever saw her do for that bunch.

"I mean, you kinda did with me."

>"That's different!!... uh. You're just... a special case. I can't be expected to treat you the same as everyone else. But enough of that. Just you and me, a night to relax, and maybe a few beers. Whaddya say?"

>Sounds better than any of your ideas. What harm could there be? She seems like she could use the de-stressing, her ears have been doing some odd dance for a little while and you've been catching her tail twisting in all sorts of directions.

"Ya know what? Sure."

>A broad smile comes to her, and her ears twitch again.

>"Great. I'll find us a house for the night, I'll radio you with where we're staying... We should probably go before those reporters get bored of ambulance chasing, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah we probably should. I gotta check in on my machine anyway... Guess I'll see you tonight."

>"Yeah"

<Teth'ra>

>Oh sweet merciful Gods he said yes!

>That wasn't so hard, you were expecting more resistance. Even if at times it was more than a little stressful, today was turning out great!

>You probably impressed him with your training, you rescued a family, you were healing him since he didn't freak out at the fact they were anthros, you chased off some scent-blind tramp trying to move in on your territory, and you got him to agree to a date.

>Hell, you were making more progress on assuaging his fears than you hoped. Your heart rate spiked a little when the civvy went in for an unannounced embrace, but for as nervous as he looked, Tom was remarkably calm about it.

>Tom even went as far as to offer the olive branch when you first encountered them, for the sake of their children. Heartwarming.

>The mother even let you hold her youngest. That adorable bundle of fur had you thinking over things, and the way Tom seemed charmed by the kitten had you thinking more.

>To think of a home of your own one day, the pattering of little feet and gleeful little voices at play.

>If you can be free of this miserable war, if you can fight hard enough to secure a future, you can have pups of your own.

>You want them, because some deeper warmth in you stirred when you were holding that little one. How much more complete would it feel if you were holding one from your own self? That product of undying love for the one you would spend the rest of your life with.

>You had to wonder what your pups would look like with him. The genetic distance between your species isn't too dire, there should be a chance.

-you're getting carried away-

>Right... It's not REALLY a date, is it? Just a casual hangout with a few drinks, maybe.

>It still is a chance for you to try to make some sort of move, he was coming out of his depression recently and now seemed like the right time to advance, especially with that itch of spring fever finally over.

>The sticking point was he either wasn't picking up your signals, or wasn't immediately interested. But you didn't get a 'no'.

>It might be your soaring heart talking, but you're sure that if you make things just a little more clear with the right push, he may start reciprocating your affections.

-...-

>Right. Casual night. Couple beers. Nothing to get too excited about.

>If only you could stop your tail from wagging so much.

---

<Tom>

>The rest of the evening went by without remark, and now you were just ready to kick your feet up.

>No war, no house clearing, no stress, no reporters, no worries, not for tonight.

>You had shown up at the cleared out little slice of suburb Teth had commandeered for the two of you tonight.

>You have to wonder how she can get away with bunking only two people in a two-story house.

>Now you're at the door, and you have to wonder if you should just step inside or knock first.

>Might as well pretend at the civilian life more and show a little courtesy. You rap 'shave and a haircut' against the door with your knuckles.

>Immediately, her voice picks up from somewhere inside as you reach for the handle.

>"You don't have to knock ya know! Come in!"

>Stepping inside, the atmosphere is surprisingly homely, warm beige walls, rich carpet and plush furniture in the room ahead, and the smell!

>You can't really place anything specific, but the mixture of scents in the air is resulting in something refreshing, but calm.

>You set the dufflebag and foot locker you had hiked on your shoulders the way here at the foot of the stairs. You aren't sure of the sleeping plans yet.

>You had already taken the liberty of changing out of uniform into something looser. A pair of old track pants and a tee was what struck you as the most comfortable if you were just hanging around and drinking.

>It's not like this is a date or anything.

-she was kind of excited when you agreed-

>She's just eager to take a break from her squad. Speaking of, where is she? There's a cushy leather couch set up in front of a tv and a coffee table, but no jackal.

"Teth'ra?!"

>"I'll be down in a minute!"

>What even was there to do up there? You don't get dolled up for a casual night. Soon you heard the tell tale signs of her moving, her jaunt down the stairs was enthusiastic, and loud.

>She strolled in and you had to catch your eyes before they wandered. She also decided to wear something loose tonight, but loose doesn't actually work on her.

>You weren't imagining things those times her pants starting clinging to her. Forget being able to kill a man, those legs could crush bears.

>Those pt shorts really didn't leave much of anything to the imagination, and that white tanktop was squeezed and battered so hard it was more like a sports bra, leaving her midriff to the open air.

>Is her chest moving more than usual?

>NO BAD

>Stop staring! Eyes low.

>She's discarded any footwear for more comfort, and there are those ankle bands she told you about.

-does she have any other bands? ones that she hasn't told you about?-

>Oh Christ.

>Concentrate idiot! Casual night, she just can't find anything comfortable that fits better, stop staring.

>You're gonna need some alcohol to help with this.

>While she sets herself down on the couch, you depart to the kitchen to home in on the liquor cabinet.

>When you find it, there's barely anything in there aside from two measly bottles of some sort of whiskey, fuck it, it'll do.

>You have to beat yourself back down before you say or do anything around her you might regret, you have no idea why seeing her like this caused such a stir in you.

>Whoever was here last left the bottle opener on the counter, and one of the caps levers off with a glassy hiss.

>You take a swig, and have to bite a little as the burning liquid slides down your throat. Tastes faintly of woodchips and... apple?

>At least you've drowned the fluttering in your chest so you can actually think and unwind like you're supposed too.

>"I smell liquid fun."

>She sounds content and happy, casual. Just a casual night, just a few drinks, you're just friends, calm down idiot.

>You already have that sense she wants some.

-you can say that another wa-

>Down boy! The single bottle should do the trick of settling your aberrant mind into a less provocative state, so might as well hand her the other bottle.

>Maybe if she was a little dulled that would help in not making things awkward, so you strolled over to the couch with booze in hand.

>"Pass it here."

>You handed the other bottle to the open hand passed over back of the coach and considered nursing your own as you stepped around and fell back into the stuffed leather.

>It's comfortably cool and soft, and you press your back into the furnishings with a groan. It feels good just to stop moving for once.

>Wait, you didn't open that other bottle. You're about to offer her the bottle opener, but find her with the tip of the bottle wedged in her canines.

>You can only look on in quiet dread as you hear a hissing pop as she levers the bottle down... and then spits out the cap.

>You had no idea those teeth were so... utilitarian.

>She proceeds to take a long sip, peeling the bottle from her lips with a slight quiver of her jaw.

>"Hooh... That is, strong."... "What?" You've been staring at her quizzically, hoping for an explanation. "I got teeth, I'll use 'em."

"...I had the bottle opener right here."

>"*snrk* Whatever! Tonight's supposed to be relaxing, kick off your shoes. The power's back on so we should be able to watch something."

>Wait what? The tv in the room was untouched, but how the hell was any of the infrastructure to actually get a picture not in pieces?

"The tv actually works?"

>"Cable box, bugs didn't dig up any of the lines"

>Even the bugs can't kill cable tv, amazing. She tosses a battered remote your way and smirks.

>"Well? Pick something. Those damn things are too small for me anyways."

>The jackal gives a large yawn and then reclines into her side of the couch, swinging her feet up to rest on the coffee table.

>You follow suit after relieving yourself of your shoes, and try to find the power button on the remote. Using the abstract hunk of plastic feels like relearning how to ride a bike.

>The newfound glare from the idiot box bathes the living room in a soft cerulean glow, it's already tuned to some dead channel showing nothing but static.

>You quickly find the buttons to start flipping through channels to find something to at least hold your attention. The first result is a talking head in a suit behind a desk. An image of the globe whirls around on the screen over his shoulder as ticker tape messages of current events pan at the bottom of the screen.

>"In other news today, an explosion at the Airmed bioculture labs is believe t-"

>The news caster is drowned out by a deep growl from the jackal.

>"I want to FORGET about the media today, no more of this fucking fear mongering. Next!"

>You had had more than enough of current events, the reporter from earlier still left a bad taste in your mouth, so you left the newscaster to talk to nothing as you flipped through more channels.

>Some movie trailer, no. Informercials, no. Some documentary on the prison system, you want to turn off your brain and get drunk, not be bored to death. Some offensive saxophone yodeling, pass. A rerun of Seinfeld, may-

>"Wait, go back!"

>You pause and shuffle your thumb back over the -channel button as Jerry prattles off another groaner on stage.

>You dearly hope she isn't a documentary girl, you knew a documentary girl, the malaise of boredom surrounding her was life draining.

>You switch back to the wailing saxophone and look towards her with worry. If she's after that soul sucking documentary you're no longer friends.

>"Stop. Here's good. I thought that sounded familiar."

>A sitcom then, not the worst thing in the world, but you might need more booze before the night is through. To get a head start, you set down the remote and burn down a swig.

>You can bring yourself to pay more attention to what's actually happening on screen. The camera is doing a slow panning zoom through a metropolitan alleyway onto a five story double wide apartment block, cheesy sax wailing the whole while.

>Judging by the overtly cheery, easy listening tone of the lead instrument and the excessively emotive silhouettes appearing as lights flick on in the windows, you're summary of cheap sitcom was right on the mark.

>You're about to suggest maybe flipping further through the channels and maybe catch a rerun of a good movie only to find Teth almost entranced as she leans ahead, tuning her attention sharply towards the screen.

>"I know this... This is. Packed in."

>She looks back to you with a small grin across her curious features. You can only return a raised brow.

>"I used to watch this show all the time when I was a kid."

"Really? A sitcom?"

>"Hey! I was twelve, I didn't exactly have a refined sense of taste yet."

"You. Refinement. The day I see you being formal is the day I spontaneously combust."

>"Ah shaddup."

"The hell is this about anyway?"

>"An apartment complex stuffed with canid families, mostly wolves and dogs. Toss in sitcom formula and you have yourself a recipe for... I dunno how many seasons."

>You turn your attention back to the screen as the camera has made the traverse to the building's main doors. They swing open to an array of muzzles wearing plastic smiles as the embossed cursive title fades in: Packed In.

>At least your ears are free of that saxophone.

>A fade to black crawls over and within seconds a short sax riff fades you in to an establishing shot of a hilariously outdated looking corner diner.

>The shot cuts in to an array of colorful characters that remind you of what your dad had on the tv in his spare time.

>Credits fade in and out as a bunch of leather jackets make conversation and a rotund short order cook stands in the back.

"Okay I thought this show was about an apartment complex. So why are we watching the cast of Happy Days here?"

>"This is just the corner diner down the block a few of the characters work at. A lot of episodes waving around the 'those damn kids' angle start here."

"A shtick as old and tired as the written word."

>She snickers a little before going back to the show. The credits continue fading by as the kitchen door slams open to reveal a rather spunky looking coyote, but on closer inspection it seems her pattern is a little off, heavy black accenting clings to the tan of her shoulders, and her muzzle looks sharper than your current frame of reference for 'yotes: Dylan.

>You think that might actually be a black backed jackal. She trots out with the chef hot on her heels, exchanging a rolling cadre of eye rolling 'banter' the whole time.

>The chef blusteringly orders the server back into the kitchen before she turns her nose up at an angle and gives the most overacted 'harumph' you've seen since Lyudmilla. No doubt about it with that haughty attitude, she's a jackal, but Teth didn't mention anything about jackal characters in the show.

"Okay so who's that? They got jackals in this show too?"

>"*sigh* Yes. Regrettably."

"What's wrong with them?"

>"Most of the characters on the show are wolves or dogs. And you can tell this fucking show was put together by pack builders because there is only one jackal family, and they are made out like such fucking stereotypes. They aren't even characters! Just a collection of asinine jackal tropes rolled up into a script. It's insulting!"

>Her ears fall low as she empties the last of her lungs, and she looks to you apologetically.

>"...Sorry. I'm just tired of these idiot wolves demonizing us just because we don't. Clump up, the way they do. We're more solitary, and there's a lot more to us than some tired ass stereotypes."

"You aren't really one to present yourself as a stereotype if that's what you're worried over."

>"Oh please, I'm a high and mighty loner with a proud streak, anything further need not apply."

>You can't have her dragging herself down, if anybody is going to be dragging themselves down, it's gonna be you, goddamnit.

"You're a very worried loner that just wants some honest company, and the most caring person I've met out here. Anyone else would have left me to rot."

>"Uhhhhhhm... thanks."

>The tone of her voice is small and fluttering to match her smile, and her ears are doing that odd swivel again. You can't be sure, but when you catch site of the insides of her ears, the normally peach flesh is stained a flourishing red.

>Is that how she blushes? It's not like you could read her cheeks through the fur.

>"Can we uh... Get back to the show now? W-We're supposed to be relaxing, ya know?"

>You give her a short nod, and she swallows a quick swig of her bottle.

>Turning back towards the show, the jackal has departed from the tacky diner as the camera follows her up the street. Those damn credits are still going, how many people worked on this fucking show!?

>And why are you supposed to care about this girl?

"Okay but really. Who is she?"

>"Sarah, middle daughter of the jackal family, aside from the hand waving non traditional name (like the rest of the family), she's a complete bleeding heart that thinks that everybody can get along. Idealistic little shit."

"Sounds like fun already."

>"Hmph."

>The credits peter out, and something resembling a title card fades across the corner of the screen: Skinship.

>The hell kind of episode title was that?

>"Ohhh- I remember this. Ah, you're gonna groan at this one."

"Why?"

>"This is 'the human episode'. A dude pretty much stumbles into the complex and basically goes down a checklist for 'human shit', it's ridiculous... And uh. And also one of my favorites."

>This was either going to be very good or very bad, depending on how easily you can pick it apart with your wit.

>Shortly after the title card fades away, the black backed, Sarah, is stopped dead in her tracks by a greasy calico in vintage leather.

>"ayyy darlehn' where ya goin'?"

>Christ, it's like a bad audio rip from Grease.

>"Home, Shane! And you can take your 'Dah-Lin' back to China creep! I told you we're outsville 'daddi-o'."

"Mmmmm, Mother of God. They call THAT delivery?"

>Teth gives a short chuckle and keeps in with the pace. "Oh trust me, it gets worse. Been a while since I've seen it though, so maybe it's better than what I remember."

"Good God, just kill me now."

>"Oh come now, if you keel over: who am I gonna keep warm at night?"

>'Warm'. Cute, she's making digs at you because you have no fur.

"Harr, harr. Make fun of the hairless ape, I get it."

>You hear her inhale to say something, but she stays quiet. In the meantime you've thankfully distracted yourself from more of the cringy back and forth between Sarah and Shane.

>At this point the jackal has backed off facing Shane, only to stop as her back hits against the trashcan at the corner of an alley.

>Four more cats creep out of the shade, all of them wearing leather jackets 40 years out of date and headfur slicked into various ridiculous styles with enough gel to submerge a small dog. All of them looked like a budget Fonzie, if The Fonz was an anthro.

>The paced out with a lurch in rhythm with their boss, well this looks familiar.

"Gee, all that's missing is the rhythmic snapping."

>She breaks into a wheezing laughter for a bit. It occurs to you that a subtle floating sort of feeling has been creeping up and lifting the corners of your mouth as you watch her beaming smile while she attempts to catch her breath.

>Guess you are having a good time.

>All this biting sarcasm is taking the poison from the pits of your guts and turning it towards something harmless, and fun.

>The cats have advanced on the jackal and look ready to corner her, but then something catches all of their attention.

>"Hey!" The bark that excused itself as a challenge came from a lug in ratty jeans and a wife beater with a brick for a head.

>He stood at the edge of the sidewalk with his back towards the street, and if not for the cue ball shine of his bald head, you would say he was the most generic looking son of a bitch you ever laid eyes on. The cats didn't look happy, and answered in turn.

>"I think you got the wrong alley man, the gym is two blocks down."

>"Hey! F--- you." The timing on that car horn...

>A round of snapping clicks echoed from the gang's side of the screen, and all of them have produced switchblades.

>Wait. Why the hell would they be using knives when they have claws? The real reason is likely regarding the safety of the actors, but the stretch of show logic is a bit far.

"Hmmm. We have these things on our hands perfected by natural evolution to kill fleshy things. Let's use these dull old pocket knives instead."

>"Phhahahaheheh! I'm sure full sets of prop claw caps are more expensive than prop knives, blame budget cuts."

>Predictably, things escalated into a scuffle from there, and since this whole script was probably the result of a weekend's pcp bender, Cueball was winning without effort.

>One goon got his knife stuck in a trashcan before Cueball chopped him across the neck with all the impact of a whiffle bat. The actor for the cat made a good pratfall for a hit that was about five times worse than what just happened.

>Canned laughter prattled off with all the timing of a broken interrupter gear as Goon 1 stumbled backwards and toppled over a guardrail into a stairwell.

>Goon 2 had the reactions of a coked out sloth and kept swinging where Cueball was about an epoch after he moved away from that spot.

>He was solved quickly when Cueball slammed him over the head with a trashcan. To their credit, that stunt actually looked like it hurt, the canned laughter on top was just cruel.

>Goons 3 and 4 wisely decided to team up, but forgot they were in a sitcom script. That inevitably meant they foiled eachother as Cueball ducks out of the way from mirrored thrusts that end up parrying both of the goons' knives away from them.

>The untouchable meathead then knocked the goons' domes together and both of them decided the floor was a cooler place to hang out than in frame.

>Now it was just Cueball vs. Shane, who was going to win was obvious. Shane opened up with some of the widest, sloppiest swings you've ever seen.

>If it was you in Cueball's place you'd probably just step inside Shane's guard in the century he was open and stab him in the kidneys. Couldn't really picture yourself defending your own friendly jackal though, Teth'ra could and would defend herself.

>Cueball found a nearby trashcan lid to cosplay as a homeless Captain America, parried Shane once, and then discarded his shield in favor of grabbing the cat by the wrist.

>The struggle was laughable as Shane could easily ditch the knife and go straight for Cueball's eyes, but seemed intent to let this pitiful attempt at an army style disarmament ride out. It was less like a disarmament, and more like the actor finally spotted the cue card telling him to drop the knife to make Cueball look even remotely competent in a fight.

>Then Shane wheeled back into the alley before Cueball even shoved him, just in time to meet up with his four goons picking themselves up off the floor without any visible injury. The crew shared looks between themselves, and then unilaterally decided to run off into the alley, presumably because they read the script.

>A chuckle came from your right and you smiled, knowing Teth'ra was about to join in on the riffing.

>"Oh shit! It's five to one in our favor and we're armed! Better run!"

>She has a point, if this confrontation was played out for anything but laughs, the bald bastard would be on the ground, a fact that has your ribs feeling ticklish.

>Course you aren't laughing with the show, more you're laughing at it.

>The black backed acted far more like a piece of furniture than an active part of the scene for the duration of the 'fight', but now she manages to stammer out something.

>"Wow! You really did save me! Thanks misterrr..."

>"John, John Doe." Are they fucking really? "Those guys were real jerks right? Calico punk was your ex right?"

>"Yes!" The camera pans towards her frantically wagging tail, and you get the sense something fantastically stupid is about to happen.

>"So think you can take me to your place? A dinner would be nice for almost getting my rear kicked. You're cute, we should get real close."

>annnd it just got worse. Teth'ra lets out a groan like she just swallowed something spoiled, you follow in turn.

>"I beat up your ex, you owe me coitus."

"Hell of a way to introduce a character we're supposed to like."

>"Oh please! I can beat up my exes myself, thank you very much. What a fucking tool."

>This bald motherfucker acts like a crude gorilla, Teth sure was right about you groaning at this one, and he wasn't even introduced to the rest of the cast yet.

>Least you have a buddy to riff it with.

>If it wasn't for the strictly PG trimmings of the situation, you're sure that exchange would be more of the meathead demanding sex as payment for rescue rather than the cutesy euphemisms for dating.

>Who the hell just charges in at the tail end of an adrenaline high prowling for sex? Is basic human decency really that hard to figure out?

>Eh. It's not like you can judge, you did think Teth'ra was going to pounce on you when you first met.

>Maybe the Sarah character is just more trusting, or naive, probably naive.

>Somehow she says yes and the two start meandering to her home, the complex where presumably most of the show happens.

>They are getting friendly with eachother awfully quick, but then again... something of yours holds a mirror up and makes the point the same could be said of you and the jackal sitting right next to you.

>You should have been scrambling away from her in terror, but the drugs kept you in place, and her eyes worked some sort of spell on you.

>"Man, they are already hanging off of eachother."

>How fast did you build up your repertoire with a woman anathema to your fear? Was something wrong with you for moving this quickly? What was wrong with you for not even being that scared of her?

"We're not like that, are we?"

>"Uhhhhhh. I... uh. I don't think so... exactly."

>You turned to find her ears standing at rapt attention, and bright red. That's definitely how she blushes, and with a start you realize you must have come off making like the two of you are an item.

"I mean, not like THAT. but... Are we moving too fast? I mean, we became friends pretty damn quickly. No offense but, I should be scared of you."

>She takes a moment to consider, and her ears swivel so as to not face you directly again.

>"Why should you be scared of me? What?"

>the concern leveled through her voice plucks at chords of guilt. Could you really tell her to her face that you should be screaming in terror from her size and strength: things she can't really help anymore? Could you say that your trust in her had you doubting your sanity since you were still so frightened of other anthros?

"I-uh... I don't know."

>"I know I'm not the most approachable, Gods above I do, but why are you doubting yourself?"

"We just... I was never that scared of you, but I'm terrified of everyone else. Those civvies didn't set me off because they looked so... meek and pathetic, but you should be absolutely terrifying!... What is wrong with me?"

>"You know what I think happened? I think when you were on death's door in that wreck, your fear was so distant that you were in a moment of clarity."

>You look on her wearing the turmoil across your brow, and you find her eyes again. That blue always seemed so welcoming.

>"You were in your last moments of consciousness when I opened that hatch, and the way you looked at me... like I was beautiful. A-and you said something to me that made my heart stir, staring into my eyes the whole time. You were dying, and you didn't see me as an animal or a threat. You saw me as human, you saw me as what I was to you."

"My angel."

>It's like a recall straight back, and you see a glimmer of light in those lovely sapphires. The same warm and soothing sincerity that made those lake so welcoming rushes back as you're dragged in again.

>"T-They say eyes are the windows to the soul. I think you saw something of mine."

>Is that what you were seeing? Her beautiful soul, dancing and breathing a completeness you had been looking for in the glimmering waters of her most precious twin lakes?

>"I don't think you're scared of me, because you saw me not just as another anthro. You saw me as a person, the woman that saved your life, the woman that tried her damnedest to fix you. I'm not just some beast to you, I'm..."

"Teth'ra"

>"And you looked in my eyes, for the longest time, and you saw someone you could trust. There's nothing wrong with you for that."

>You can feel a quickening beat under your chest, and a flighty warmth circling around you. Where is all this even coming from? You should calm down and think, it's a casual night after all, not a date. Those lines don't cross.

"T-thanks *ehm-hm* Maybe uh. Back to the show now?"

>"o-oh, yeah... right."

>You missed a fairly large chunk of the proceedings while you were staring at eachother, The pair on screen had shuffled into the complex and were currently in a chat with a bunch of arctic wolves near the front desk.

>Describing the pack as curious would be an understatement, soon as they heard the words 'gang' and 'savior' from Sarah's mouth, they were all over the two.

>The five or so pups of the family were asking rapid fire questions, the father was grilling Baldy for any sort of malicious intent, and the mother was giving out way too enthusiastic hugs, all quirks played for yet more canned laughter.

>You couldn't think on anything witty for now, just trying to settle back down from that awkward little staring contest.

>you reach again for the bottle and take a swig, noticing Teth'ra doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

>"Ya know I uh, I really don't mind."

>Mind what? had you offended her in someway? Committed a taboo?

"What?"

>"All the uh... eye contact. Usually it's a way of contesting dominance between canines, but from you it's... kind of... welcoming."

>Well that's a bit of a relief, at least she doesn't mind, or at least not enough to raise a fuss about it.

>Best take another swig to calm down, just to be safe.

>You press yourself back into the couch to try and take a more reclined posture to help relax, she seems to be doing the same, if her crossing her left leg over her right is any indication.

>The show seems to melt more into a warm blur of hit and miss delivery and awkward moments between Sarah and... Mr. Doe (fuck's sake), rather than go anywhere immediately interesting.

>You think you might have something to settle back into riffing as Sarah drags him around to be introduced to the tenants, and he acts like a wide-eyed child at each and every one.

>Your moment comes as he's invited into an apartment decorated like knock-off Wonka, the resident being a rather neurotic red wolf. Chrome Dome insists on stumbling around in blind awe like he just walked into wonderland.

"He's a bit new, isn't he?"

>"*snrk* New? Try born yesterday. He's astounded at whimsical decoration like it's the great pyramids."

>You definitely see her point, right now he's going boggle eyed at a lawn gnome holding a small board full of holes.

>"It's a cheese grater chief, not the Necronomicon. Stop looking for your toupee in there."

>Her words hook on something and reel a rich laughter out of your throat. You hear a rhythmic thumping coming from her side of the coach, it's her tail slapping softly against the back cushion.

>"Aheh, has a mind of it's own sometimes." You don't believe her in this instance, since she's wearing a warm, energetic grin. She seems to display that image of a dog smiling with a seasoning touch of a human element.

>In this light, those pearly whites look pretty, even the rounded daggers of her canines, they remind you of better days at home, when you had so much less to worry about. Even the wagging of her brushy tail recalls you towards memories of your canine companion, and you never fail to find that sort of thing endearing.

"That's actually kinda cute."

>"Oh stop!"

>She says stop, but her face says she appreciates it. Her grin has widened into flashing more teeth and the thumping of her tail has quickened its tempo.

>Obviously she's daring you to go on, so you'll feign ignorance just to make her ask for it more directly. You aren't going to fall in with whatever tease she has planned so easily.

"Alright then."

>With that you promptly return to looking at the tv, trying not to crack a smile at the little whine you hear from the right.

>You've missed more of the plot but you don't really mind. The red wolf is taking the pair around his apartment, pointing out and explaining everything in his collection like it's some sort of accomplishment in hoarding all of this trashy decorum.

>Thankfully Sarah drags the replicant out before Red can get to gushing over a pile of odd looking pillows stacked up to overflowing in a closet.

>The two of them jaunt into the hallway as Red stammers out an awkward goodbye.

>"I'm uh, still here."

"I know. You're hard to miss."

>You can play this game for a little while, especially as the other tenants Sarah drags the bald brick to go gawk at really aren't coming up with any good fodder for a snappy joke.

>"You uh, you'd probably miss me if I wasn't here. Right?"

"Oh just absolutely devastated."

>Such Dry sarcasm is leaving your throat parched, so you down another swig.

>How much of this bottle is even left? You hold it up to find you're down to a quarter, not that you were keeping track of how much you drank.

>You glance over to see her shifting, her titanic legs grinding against eachother as she wrings her hands.

>"I uh. I know I act pretty... dog like sometimes... Isn't that something?"

>You turn to her, stare deadpan, and raise a brow. Her lip quivers a little as she tries to stammer before you turn away back to the tv.

>"Oh come on! At least one more? Please?"

>You look over and are hit with a wall of guilt. She's pulling the look, the same one your dog used to when begging for affection.

"Alright fine."

>The arms length distance between the two of you is easily covered as you lean in and gently extend a finger, landing it on the black pad of her nose.

>Her eyes focus in on the end of her muzzle as confusion washes across her features.

"Yer little button nose is cute."

>Maybe it's just the alcohol settling that warm blanket feeling over you, or it could be her companionship, either way you feel content, and lift your finger off the damp button of her nose and return towards trying to find nits to pick at the tv.

>You want more of that warm feeling, and it doesn't seem of any harm to guzzle down the last quarter of the bottle to get it, it's not like you're seeing double.

>You hear that happy whine again and the brushing of her tail gliding over the leather, cute.

>Watching the introductions towards more of the wolves is actually pretty tolerable, even enjoyable. A lot of the new characters are pleasant and provide the sort of more mellow humor that stays out of the way. Teth'ra even laughs along to a few of the jokes.

>Guess you're getting an idea of why this episode is one of her favorites, even with the rocky start.

>She settles in more as you largely look on in a laconic daze, while it's pleasant, it hasn't really pulled you in, and you have no more to drink.

>A fairly large chunk of the episode lazes by, and you actually find yourself laughing along to a few examples of actually good timing and delivery, it's not all bad.

>Eventually the pair arrives at the last door down the second floor hallway, and you hear a sad sigh from Teth.

>Looking over, you note her own bottle has been emptied.

"What's wrong?"

>"We're about to meet her family..."

"Oh."

>That warm smile and those tittering little laughs have vanished.

>The first thing heard upon opening the door is an angry, controlling shouting. A tall jackal with fur flecked between brass and pepper shades stands admonishing a younger pup like a drill sergeant.

>His over the top blustering is played for laughs, but Teth'ra is depressingly silent. He turns to acknowledge the opening door, and the pup immediately slinks away.

>Immediately you can see the one note type casting she was talking about, the father is a prideful, arrogant sort that demands control. The mother is reserved and distant, and the pup from earlier is a wild hellion.

>Sarah herself is inoffensive, but you've noticed the pattern. The wolf families often play their comedic roles by harmless misunderstanding and amiable quirks, they're always social and friendly.

>The jackals meanwhile are painted as a pack of dysfunctional, isolationist neurotics with a communal temper problem.

>The family dynamic is played off as borderline abusive, yet the canned laughter is more intense than ever.

>It sinks your heart, because Teth'ra might be reading this flanderization as some sort of attack on her, and her way of life.

>"This is what pack builders think we are, a bunch of squabbling loners so far up our own asses we can't see the sun."

"Maybe it's not intentional."

>A short growl rumbles off of her.

>"Oh it's intentional alright! Howlers always think they now what's best for us. So they include this as some shallow narrative that the traditional family is meant to self destruct. They think something must be wrong with us just because we'd rather be left alone."

>"The father is the typical above it all slave driver, the mother is the reserved, loveless lump of pride, and all the kids are varying levels of dysfunctioning mess, all meant to stereotype and deride us. Just because we live differently."

>Her frown deepens, and a distance grows in her eyes.

>"And to top it all off, I probably sound like a speciest cunt because I hate them for trying to tell us how to live."

>... poor girl.

"Teth. I can see where you're coming from, their dynamic is pretty... mean spirited."

>"Yeah well, we're supposed to be having fun right? I fucked that up. Can't even remember why I liked this one."

>Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but the idea that comes to you doesn't seem that bad. You reach over across the narrow gap between the two of you and bury your hand into the ruff of fur along her neck.

>"What are you-?"

>Her shoulders gently hike as you start scratching, the plush silk ruffles between your fingers as you bunch up the fur and scratch along her neck.

>This time she reacts positively to the petting, you sneak lower and scratch at a spot right between her shoulder blades, earning you a small moan of satisfaction.

>You can see the tension in other parts of her body uncoil, it's curious how much she overlaps with a dog sometimes.

"Feeling better?"

>"mmmmm, yes-"

>You withdrew your hand and rested it on the back of the coach. She gave you a curious look before turning back towards the tv.

"Now then, how about we pick this motherfucker apart for our own amusement?"

>"Hmph. Sounds good."

>Immediately the screen obliged your request, as you saw a rather bratty looking black-backed step out in what could only be described as an outfit a few dangerous steps away from a crop top and booty shorts, like the hookers in Cambridge would wear.

>"hff, look at this disaster. Of course you have to have the little free love rebel. Go back to Woodstock! And stop pretending to be one of us!"

>Teth'ra is eager on the attack, you can see her venting her anger at the screen, you gotta prod it further. Some good snark rips out the stress after all.

>But you are curious, she herself did mention that in her teenage years she got deep into trouble.

"Didn't you have a whole 'bad bitch' phase too?"

>"Oh that was different! For one I was more interested in getting into fights, two, I never dressed like THAT, and finally, I never went around spreading my legs at strange men for my amusement like that wolf in fur dye. No matter who you are, if you're a jackal, you take mating seriously."

>Now you were curious, might be stupid to ask, but you're drunk.

"Really now? What's that about?"

>"Uhhhhm... Well. Jackals uh... We mate for life. My mother always told me, that the ideal was a single mate that you could settle down with and carve out your own little territory... maybe have a litter or two. It's not like we can only ever have one, but we're very... picky about it."

>It only made sense, you heard jackals were very particular and strictly monogamous.

>You do have to wonder what sort of specimen would catch her particular taste, probably not an idiot like you.

>Best to get back into picking apart the show to help her get the led out, so you give her a curt nod before focusing back on the screen.

>The fake jackal has had a rather painful diatribe with her mother before what you can only assume as the eldest daughter marches out screeching, "I'm going down to the club, and there's nothing you can do to keep me down, man!"

>Reminded you of some free love types you knew in school.

"Don't harsh my bud man."

>"hehehe heh he heh, yeah she would be a complete hippy. Little slut has daddy issues."

"I think that might be the least of her problems, give a few years."

>"Phahehe hah hah ha, god you're terrible."

>The festivities continued, regrettably the mother was so emotionless there was nothing to latch onto to attack.

>Cueball was then shown around the apartment by his fling, being occasionally harassed by the youngest kid who would run off and come back again.

>At least the antics of the little worm were less depressing than the emotionally dead mother or her dictator of a husband.

>Looking over the slight smile your favorite jackal wore, you could still tell there was a little something wrong. You need a heavier hit, something to really take her off guard so she can laugh the stress away.

>Maybe something will show itself as Doe is introduced to Sarah's older brother, it's just a matter of timing.

>The two walk into something halfway between a bedroom and an art closet.

>A lot of half baked impressionist pieces line the wall on cheap canvas stretched over bent frames, jeez this kid likes his impressionist shit.

>A rather tall golden jackal stood with his back turned towards the door, not noticing the intruding pair until his sister spoke.

>"Hey Herman."

>Almost immediately you had to swallow down a little laughter, that was the name of the biggest dweeb you ever knew.

"Herman?! Really!?"

>"iiiit's a name."

>Still had to shake your head at that. You looked back just in time for the kid to finish leaping out of his skin and facing about in record time, you notice his paw wandering to shove something slowly back into a sleeve of other canvases.

>"Oh! Hey! Sarah! Care for a courtesy knock next time? Ah-heh-hehh."

>Now that you were getting a good look at it, he was hiding a painting from his sister, but not the camera, you're sure you spy a feminine feline face with bare orange shoulders.

>Kid's got a pair, oil painting cheesecake in the family home. At least it's not soup cans.

"Is that what I think it is?"

>You glance over to see her with a rather disdainful look on her face, like she just caught someone rooting through her personal items.

>"Ugh, of course. He's a golden so he HAS to have a fetish for tigers. Typical."

>Something in an undercurrent of her voice tells you she may be speaking for more than just her disgust for a stereotype.

"You jealous or something?"

>Her lips shrink is surprise, but she bounces back into a consideration before continuing.

>"I may have had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger."

>The bemused smirk on your lips couldn't get any bigger.

>"Don't look at me like that!... He's the only functional member of the family."

>The conversation this time around actually sounded like the sort of thing said between siblings, and the man who had no wig entertained himself by peering around at whatever in the room happened to serve the purpose of modeling, eventually settling on a collection of bright rounded shapes in a bowl.

>He seemed oddly entranced by the objects, enraptured, utterly absorbed in the essence of this non perishable substitute for perishables.

>The camera zooms in intently on the quizzical visage of a man utterly obsessed, with a bowl of wax fruits.

>Your time is now, to step forward and voice this quiet genius' inner most dialogue. The crucible question he must be asking himself right now.

"How many of these can I use as a sex aid?"

>The eruption of laughter from off to your side tells you that you nailed it.

>She tries to speak in between great gasps but can't calm her rich laughter, she curls in on herself with ecstatic joy as her middle shakes.

>Her lips have curled back to display those sharp whites to full effect, somehow they don't seem threatening with her doubling over in mirth.

>You can't help but get a sense of warmth from her joy, it cracks a smile out of you, and your laughter joins hers.

>It leaps out of your chest powerfully, a series of shocks to your chest that can't help but bring you joy.

>Teth'ra manages to collect her breath just enough to wheeze out something intelligible.

>"Ha ha heeah, H-holy shit! Euh-ha ha ha!"

>For long minutes you both find yourselves unable to speak with any sort of level tone.

>Eventually you do manage to calm yourselves.

>"Alright, I uh-heh, I really do feel better now."

"That's-heh. That's good."

>You stared into each other for a brief moment as you reflected your own manic grins.

>You're both just a couple of idiots working off stress, but there's no idiot you'd rather do it with than her.

>Drunk, irreverent, uncaring of whatever may happen out in the wide world, and above all happy. You missed this feeling.

>"This is nice. Ya know? I don't think I've had a night like this in a long time."

"Ah come on, couple drinks and a show is easy."

>"I'm not talking about the entertainment."

"Then what are ya talking about?"

>Her lips close and her ears swivel away again.

>"I'm talking about... the company."

>A legible sincerity adorns her eyes, and it raises many questions. Was she really as lonely as she was letting on?

>Wait... did she mean company in a more romantic light? You're probably just reading something wrong, those lines do-.

>"Uhhhhm." She stares, her attention caught undivided by something on screen.

>You push your confusion to the side to see what's piqued her interest.

"Okay, what are you staring at n-."

>Dominating the screen is an image of the jackal and human messily kissing in the privacy of her room, her subtle lips interwoven with his as they waver back and forth.

-what if it was you and Teth'ra?-

>Those lines do not cross. This is just some liberal script writer inserting a message promoting interspecies relationships. This sort of thing doesn't actually happen... right?

-she's been sending signals tonight-

>No, that... That's just her getting chummy, both of you are pretty heavily buzzed.

-it's numbing her restraint, she's saying what she really feels-

>Okay, you've had enough of this. Your throat feels clammy, and you despair as you remember that the bottle is dry.

>You can't tear your eyes away from the sight on screen either, they're really going! It's odd seeing a muzzle sensually sucking face, but you can tell that she's not only achieving a seal, she's also putting up a hell of a fight judging by the stifled moans.

>You can't help but remark in astonishment of this bizarre sight.

"Huh, so that's how you kiss something with a muzzle."

>"M-Mhm. uhhh, t-that's uh. quite a thing... isn't it?"

>She doesn't expect you to provide any sort of answer, the shaking in her voice tells you that she has no idea what to make of this either.

>It's almost like watching a crash, a vocal, intimate crash. You start feeling a heat stinging your cheeks as temptations are whispered in your ear.

>How would her lips feel on yours? That soft silk against your touch, her breath washing in with yours, her voice pleading your name in wanting.

>You're both so tired and lonely, give yourself away, let her under your skin, you need that human touch. She can give it, you've seen the way she's been acting, she's open to it.

>The heat comes flashing to your face, and you feel your heart thrashing against the walls of its cage. You should talk just to try and fan this away.

"Man, they're still going at it."

>I-I-uhh... I don't think that's acting..."

>It seems she's right, the tongue wrestling is getting fierce, and their hands have started exploring eachother, it's looking like this relationship actually has something off the screen. So much for those lines not crossing.

>Finally they break away, and you find a breath coasting out of your throat that you didn't even realize you were holding.

>You keep getting whispers urging you in a dangerous direction, so you shuffle into your seat and look away, trying to regain your bearings.

>That little display still doesn't exclude the existence of the barriers between the two of you. Relationships like that must be very rare, and it's not like she's showing any real, deeper interest. Different species, different standards.

>You certainly think of her as more... exotic, but how could you even be attractive to her?

>That heat still clings to you, and your heart is attempting to run a circuit, you need to clear the smoke and think.

>inhale, count to four, exhale

>Just think this over rationally.

>You're a violent, selfish, angry ball of fear and broken psyche. Who the hell would want you as a partner? Sure she tries to fix you out of kindness, but she isn't one to hold ulterior motives.

>She grew up in isolation, so of course she would act a little strange, and jackals in particular are supposed to be real choosy about who they're interested in, so that throws you out of the running.

>This is just confusion, booze, and some very bad timing.

>"So... uhhm."

>Warmth still clings to your cheeks, and you try to still your heart, you can't look at her right now in case she reads something about your flustered state incorrectly.

>Don't want to give the wrong impression in case that makes things worse, but you're giving a bit of a cold shoulder, you should at least engage with her.

"That was... certainly something."

>"Mhm..."

>The wall sure is a nice color, the pastel tan is charmed by the stark blue of the tv glow.

>...

>Oh who the fuck are you kidding? It looks like every other shade of suburbanite puke.

>You sneak a peek back at the tv, just to check if the coast is clear. Thankfully Cueball is leaving the apartment on his own while the varied shades of dysfunction wave goodbye, and the show fades in to credits. It's over.

>Now you just have commercials and nothing to excuse you ignoring her. shit.

>"You uh... You want to talk, get our minds off of that?"

"uhhhh-"

>A soft whimper peals from her, how are you supposed to refuse that?

"-Alright, what is it?"

>"First crush, go!"

"I-eh-wha?"

>By now your face doesn't feel like you're facing an oven, so you at least turn to display your confusion.

>She's segueing out of an awkward moment over an interspecies kiss, to talk about dating? Where's the logic on that one?

>"I-I-I-uhh, I figured if we're busy groaning over stupid shit we used to do, then we can forget about... that."

"So you think the best place to get away from that is talking about trying to get into someone else's pants?"

>Her jaw hangs open as she avoids your gaze. You catch a brief glimpse of her inner ear, it's almost blood red.

>"You have a better idea?!"

>Nothing is coming to you.

"no..."

>"*sigh* Well I'm not coming up with anything else, so... First crush?"

>If she was talking about what hollow pursuit your dumb ass first lusted after, that was easy, but she could just as well be talking about whoever made your heart first flutter, which was a different answer entirely.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

>"uhh, ya know, puppy love. Just whoever you first thought was someone special."

>Your thoughts turn back the clock, to when you were so young lying seemed like a mortal sin.

>"Well?"

"Just give me a minute!"

>A month ago you didn't know her, and you're already talking dating history, she sure is different.

"Okay... First crush, that would be in the third grade."

>The memory is vague, you can't recall every detail, aside from most of what you felt.

"Her name was Maggie, and she had the prettiest blue eyes. She came and played with me when I was on my own, and I was just so enamored with her curly blonde hair."

>That was just the start of it, she was a little sweetheart that asked so earnestly why you were sad. She didn't like seeing people be sad, and her playing with you in that lonely corner of the playground made your young heart want to keep her around.

"She started becoming my best friend, even if I did think she had cooties. So I said to myself: I'm gonna do something nice for her on valentine's day. Because I just thought she was the coolest, and that we should be absolutely inseparable."

>The innocence of being that young, your worries were small, and your feelings were true. You were more sincere.

>You smile a little, remembering what you tried to throw together for little Maggie.

"I had this idea, this stupid idea, but by God I was going to act on it. So after school, I started digging up posies from the flower garden. Mom was pissed, but somehow I managed to talk her out of beating my ass. I guess I was just so excited to do something for the girl."

>Honestly you can't remember exactly why she let you get away with it, maybe some input from your father was responsible.

"So I get into the garage with this wad of dirt and flowers... and I find a box of zip-ties. So I- *hehehe* -I start wrapping this piece of shit in zip-ties I chained together, and I make this shitty little flower basket that looks about ready to fall apart. All because I wanted to do something nice for Maggie, and girls like flowers right?"

>Somehow the words you breath take a tension with them, you're getting more at ease now.

>Looking over, you find Teth'ra wearing a warm smile as her ears are splayed at curious angles, the flesh under the puffy tufts of fur along the insides of her ears still faintly red.

>But more importantly, her tail is giving a slow wag, and you can read adoration in her eyes.

>"Awwww, That's adorable!"

>...Guess it was kind of cute, in a certain light.

>"Sooo? How'd it go?"

>If it went the way you wanted it to, maybe you and Maggie would have grown up together so tightly knit that you would be complete, but that never happened.

>Your smile has faded now.

"Next day at school, I try to present my little gift... and I'm ignored. Turns out Robert fucking Worcester's rich ass mom bought a designer's bouquet... for an eight year old girl. My shitty little basket is shoved off onto the back table, and at the end of the day, it got knocked off and broke into a mess on the ground. So I couldn't even drag anything home for mom..."

>Your frail little heart was shattered, it was the first time you felt the sting of rejection.

"And then I went home and cried about it like a bitch."

>"Oohhhhh. And you sounded so sincere too."

>The real loss was suddenly she was enamored with that little asshole Robert, a boy that never stopped bullying you just because he had two inches on you. Your little best friend was nothing but a fling.

"She never really hung out with me after that."

>Teth wears a saddened expression, with a malingering hint of hope that maybe things ended on a better note, you hate to disappoint.

>"Well, where is she now?"

>You remember hearing about it from one of the deadbeats you hung out with, somehow you weren't really broken up about it.

"A few months after graduation, there was a big party, she and Robert got into the drinks, and they hopped behind the wheel of Rob's convertible..."

>You had to wonder if you were broken, because when you heard the news, you could only shrug your shoulders and offer condolences. You felt nothing for her ever since middle school, you had moved on.

"He wrapped them around a tree going eighty, she was killed instantly."

>She takes a hissing inhale, and shakes her head.

>"Eeesh... That got dark fast."

"eh, I'm not broken up about it. Hadn't talked to her since the fifth grade."

>"I hope all of your stories don't end this depressingly."

>You can't recall any of your other paramours dying in a car crash.

"Eh, believe me. She's the only one that ends that badly... Guess the first note kinda ruined it, huh?"

>"It's not fair if I don't share too. Besides, I never even knew her, and it's not like there's anything to be done."

>It was a long time ago, and even now you really don't feel anything, it's just like reflecting on the news of a distant relative dying. Sure, you may have met them once or twice, but you never knew them enough to shed tears for them.

>You are curious what Teth's more literal 'puppy love' is however.

"Well, I did mine, you do yours?"

>"Yeah, I could stand to go somewhere a little less depressing anyway."

>You kick your feet back on the table and shift a little to face towards her as she tells her tale, the tv murmurs ads for whatever and whoever in the background.

>Her lips purse in thought as she recalls, and her ears adopt a more neutral stance.

>"Okay, so mine was... I don't know how long ago, I can't even remember what grade it was, but, I do remember what happened there."

>"So I was just a little rascal, right? Yet to get into too much trouble or do anything but be excited. I was very young, very impressionable, and very earnest. I'm out to make friends, and of course none of the little human brats will have me because I'm the weird one."

"Cue exception, enter stage left."

>A small smirk comes to her as she laughs lightly at your quipping.

>"Hehehe hah. No, actually. It was another anthro."

>The question springs up of how that happened since her home wasn't so anthro friendly, you would have figured she would be the only anthro in the class.

"I thought Utah was a state notoriously unfriendly to your sort?"

>"Well yes, nothing about what I told you before is untrue, but this was the only other anthro I had seen in state."

>"Immediately, he was another outcast like me, I figured with another 'weird kid' that we could start hanging out. I was just excited to have someone else to play with."

>The mental image of a knee height jackal pup roughhousing with another little ball of fluff brings a charmed smile to you, and has you thinking over the kitten she cradled so gently in those massive arms. Do all anthro kids look so fluffy?

>Then again, you can't even be sure the other kid in question was a mammal.

"So who was this oddball?"

>One of her ears flicks as she adopts a nostalgic face, smiling gently as she recounts.

>"He was actually a wolf. Can't remember what type, but... He was black with these icy white streaks in his fur and pale blue eyes, I just remember thinking he was so damn pretty, it was the first thing I said to him."

>"So I ask him his name, and he gives me Davion, pretty name for a pretty boy right? From there we hit it off, because none of the other kids really liked to come near us. I sit by him every day and wag my little tail because I had some company at school."

>The way she describes it warms your heart, and you find the jackal to be cast in a more youthful, endearing light.

>Course, she never mentioned this kid before, so you can only assume they didn't stay friends forever.

"Almost sounds too good to be true, given the circumstances."

>"*huff* Tell me about it. I get near him every day I can and he decides that he's not interested in playing with me, and I don't get why he's doing this. As far as I was concerned, we were pretty much the same, his ears were just different."

>"So I go and run to mom to ask what to do, because I really want to keep an anthro friend, even if he's a howler and I don't know it yet. She tells me that my best option is impressing this little dweeb. So for WEEKS, I try doing this to win him over to me."

"Well you certainly went the extra mile."

>She scoffs lightly and rolls her eyes.

>"I was young, stupid, and brimming with energy, of course I went the extra mile. Not like that did shit anyway."

>"Now at this point, Davion is starting to get more interested in playing with the other kids. He plays this game with the brats where one kid chases the others as 'the wolf' for a little bit before the other kids all grab sticks and chase the wolf until someone hits him."

>Wolf kid playing as the big bad wolf before the villagers hunt down and pelt him... That doesn't exactly sound... correct.

"That game sounds a bit..."

>"Racist? Oh believe me, the second I wanted to stop being the wolf, no one wanted to play with me anymore and it was right back to being ignored, teased, and bullied. It was a load of speciest shit, but that didn't matter to him. He wanted to snuggle up with the rest of the shitheads while leaving me on my own, but I didn't know that back then."

>"So young, stupid me believes I can win him over to my side, and one day I get my chance."

>Her expression has gradually changed to be more bitter at this point.

>"So I find him out in the park trying to howl, and of course, he can't do it because his voice hasn't really come in yet. And I'm just so excited to show him what I got. So I march over, stand next to him, and start belting out my weedy little howl. And I'm putting my heart and soul into it. I swear that was the only time that teacher ever referred to me as cute."

"That sounds just precious... So how does this one go wrong?"

>She gives a half hearted sort of groaning growl, and her expression sinks further.

>"The next day, he suddenly doesn't want to have anything to do with me... because I showed him up. He runs off into the human cliques, abandoning me. This continues all the way up through middle school, every time some asshole is there waving around some speciest comment because it's in to pick on the jackal girl, he's right there behind them, following the crowd. Because he wants to be approved of, because he can't think for himself!"

>This kid sounds like a complete tool, and the more you think on it, the more Teth'ra's fierce independent streak makes sense. This helped cultivate her hatred for crowd pleasers and trend followers like Vilka. Hence all the spit and vinegar for 'pack-builders'.

>"Then in the 8th grade, he comes up to me, and tells me his family is moving out of state."

>You don't have a pleasant feeling about what she has to say next, you're thinking that whatever he must have said had a major formative impact on her opinions, and entrenched her further into her loner nature.

>Maybe this story has at least a little light for her at the end...

"So this is where he says sorry?"

>"Nope! Instead he asks me for a kiss because he's never gonna see me again. I gave him a kiss alright, right on his fucking nose!"

>She slams her fist into an open palm, miming the strike with a loud smack. Her ears are pinned back and she bears her teeth angrily.

>You have to shrink back a little at her anger, but she pauses and collects herself with a deep breath. You recognize that timing.

>It seems as though both of your first, earnest affections ended badly, but she did say hers didn't end on as depressive a note, so you have to ask.

"So where is he now?"

>"Don't know, don't care. The thing is... I was waisting my time from the start, turns out he's gay."

>That's gotta wound the pride. Her solemn expression confirms it.

"Ouch"

>"It's always the pretty ones... godsdammit."

>Yours ended in blood, hers ended with regret. If you wanted to constantly unwind, this was the wrong way to go about it.

"You know we really suck at this whole, relaxing, thing."

>"We kind of killed the mood..."

>... Where are you supposed to go for an upward discussion from here?

>Wait, you're sure you can talk about stupid mistakes in your respective dating histories, nothing to do like laugh at innocent failures.

"Okay. Let's get this on an uptick yeah? What kind of idiocy did you have on your first real date? I'll go first."

>This seems to pique the jackal's interest, and you try to remember the cliff notes of the disaster that was your first attempt.

>It was junior year, she was a bit of a stick in the mud, and you chose the exact wrong place to take her.

"So I met this girl Suzie in high school, complete buzzkill, I don't know what the hell I saw in her beyond her tits. But we agree to go to a movie, my choice. Issue was, she was a bleeding heart democrat that liked moral grandstanding, and I took her to see Sudden Impact."

>That ride home was hell, but you certainly grabbed Teth'ra's attention. She dons something halfway between intrigue and cheeky.

>"Ohhhh? Mixing a strong, masculine authority figure with a waifish, opinionated little shrew. How did that turn out?"

>The question is obviously rhetorical, but you can't help but quip back.

"As bad as you think it did. The whole ride to her place, it's 'fascist!' this, and 'police brutality!' that. She dumped me as soon as I pulled up on the curb."

>"Ha ha ha ha, what a bitch! Just because you picked a movie she didn't agree with? Did she even say anything about that?"

"Nope. I did throw some mud on her dress pulling away though, so two for two."

>"*snrk* Ha ha ha! Well she sounds petty. I suppose it's my turn now?"

>You merely shoot her a nod and try not to stare at the way her laughter makes her chest move.

>It doesn't take her too long to come up with something.

>"Alright, so to start off with my dating situation is already hell, I have to drive all the way up to fucking RENO, just to see another anthro."

>How does that situation work?

"Okay wait. Reno?! How the hell did you get something that long distance organized for a date?"

>"I uh... I hung out in chatrooms on that network deal, was slow as sin but thankfully there were a lot of prospects on the Nevada border willing to take the drive to Reno, because it was much shorter for them than it was for me."

>That explains it, you remember a public computer network being raised around North America and most of Europe around the early eighties. You never had a computer to check it out, but what few times you did see it, it seemed to be bare bones and very slow, really only useful for sending text messages and very small images.

>"Anyway, first guy I got on the hook... I tell him I'm a royal jackal, and immediately he gets interested. I'm talking immediately, which was a relief to me at the time, but come to find out, I should have taken it as a bad sign."

>She gets that same happy recounting in her eyes again, you smile yourself in anticipation of what fresh hell she's about to get into.

>"I show up, a bit cranky from a three hour drive, and there's this unkempt mess of a golden jackal just fucking staring at me slack jawed. Turns out we both left out a few key details about what we looked like."

>Your mind flashes towards some sort of cross between a mangy coyote and a fat jobber in need of a shave.

"Oh this is rich."

>"I forgot to mention I'm built like a tank, largely out of my own innocent ignorance. He outright lied about what he looks like, I expect a proper, trim jackal, and instead I get an overweight man-child. So of course I slip my temper a little and ask him what he's trying to pull. He fires back about me being a man and I almost bit his damn head off, so I head home absolutely steamed and make a new hole in the wall."

"How the hell could anyone confuse you for a man? Given uh... ya know... THOSE."

>You pantomime lifting two orbs in front of your chest and try to fight off a heat creeping around your cheeks.

>"Oh... uhm... Well these were still filling out at the time. I honestly have no idea how they got so big. Just the wonders of charging through puberty I guess."

>She idly cups her hand under one and lifts slightly, and you avert your eyes because judging by the amount of jello like quivering when she sets it back down, she isn't wearing a bra.

>But that does bring up the point of how rough it must be to live with melons like that.

"Aren't those uh... rough on your back? They're a bit heavy, no?"

>"I've never had back problems, guess it's all the core workouts."

"Well ya know, some people, get reductions."

>Her head jumps back a step as her lips part in a sneer, you freeze, expecting her to chew you out for such an offense.

>"*scoff* Reductions!?! I'm proud of these girls!... *sigh*. Besides, I need them to feed any litters I have. Reductions, hmph!"

>... She hold her muzzle aloft at an angle you can only read as shrewd, but her eyes wander and her lips waver. She returns to a more neutral expression.

>"...sorry. I've just been teased a lot over my size, but I hold that they're just jealous. So. uh, more stories?"

>Picking over more of that warm blur of past relationships while under the affects of a travel bottle of some whiskey you didn't even read the proof label of... Would she settle for cliff notes.

"Look, I'm not gonna remember all of them, a lot of 'em just sort of fade into the background. That first outing actually established a bit of a pattern that I can easily shorthand."

>"Well, I still want to hear it. Even if nothing stands out."

>All of it felt the same after a certain point.

"Most of my dates from there fell into two pitfalls. Either we'd break up immediately because it's all about what she wants. Or we'd break up far later because I'm just not satisfied."

>You can see the question coming from her face even before she asks it.

>"Unsatisfied? How?"

"*sigh* I don't know how, but I just kept getting in with the shallow ones. She had a dick and someone to dupe into buying her useless crap. I just got another wet hole. She sure jerks off my dick, but she never jerks off my heart."

>The eruption of laughter to your side is grating, and you sour as you glare at her.

>"Heheheh... sorry, I just never heard it referred too like that... It's a shame you never felt any connection though."

>You see her nervously tapping her claws together.

>"iiiss there anyone you DID feel a connection with?... I mean, not to pry! but..."

>She's pretty insistent on figuring you out, guess it's just the booze making her more adventurous. It's not like she's only taking without giving, fair trade and all.

"There was one girl... but you have to share your own history too, deal?"

>She gives a nob, a bit more enthusiastically than she probably meant. You can see she's completely forgotten about keeping her tail under control too. "Deal!"

>Now if you can only remember without getting yourself depressed as hell. That charming little laugh, the pristine auburn hair, that bitter pit carved in you when she vanished.

"...Her name was Carmen, and once I thought I would spend the rest of my life with that woman. I met her shortly after graduation, and so much just clicked. We had rocky patches near that start but, I started feeling something."

>Something you thought you wouldn't be feeling again, until she showed up.

>Was it some deeper love? The last time you felt this, it ended in heartbreak, because you were so invested in a feeling.

"I thought it would work, for so long I thought this would work in the long run. That maybe one day I could give this girl a ring. We had more trouble spots, I didn't get why she didn't want to go the extra step, but she kept telling me that she was saving herself for that perfect moment."

>Teth sits with rapt attention, she's rightfully anticipating something heart wrenching.

"Somehow she kept me there, and we went back and forth for... hell, something like 14 months. We were talking about finally moving in together... And then one week she goes quiet. I look high and low for her, and I was getting so damn worried. The streets aren't safe at night. I-I thought something happened."

>You stare towards the corner of the wall, you can feel a creeping feeling nearing around your eyes.

>inhale, count to four, exhale

>It was a long time ago.

>She had her reasons.

>You shouldn't dwell on it.

>"Oh Gods... I'm sorry."

>Maybe if something did happen it would have been easier on you back then.

"No, after a week of searching for her, I get a call from a friend. Her family was helping move her across the country, she had known about it for a month, and said nothing about it to me... She just, left, without a word. That was the last fling I had before I got drafted. At least I still got to leave Boston."

>Everything after that made you feel such a bitter swill of regret, you and little Carmen had been so good together. What did you do wrong?

>What made you deserve her just disappearing? You just don't know.

>You hear a low rumble from the jackal, and your heart tightens a little. What did you do to piss her off?

>"THAT'S DISGUSTING!!! THAT FUCKING CUNT!!!"

>Her volume is startling, and you shuffle backwards as her muzzle is splayed in an image of fury, but she doesn't move. She gives a growling huff, you can't help but voice your concern at this sudden flash of zeal.

"Teth?"

>"How does she get off abandoning you like that?!!"

>She's not angry at you, she's furious on your behalf. You could never bring yourself to anger over Carmen, just tears that you spent weeks drowning in drink and shallow pursuits.

>Your dream was getting out of that rat's nest of a city with her, maybe building a house and starting a family. And now you doubted if you could ever find a home with anyone else.

>Last thing you want is for the jackal to drag herself down dealing with your problems again.

"It's not a big de-"

>"NO! She leads you on for damn well over a year, giving so little while you wanted to have everything with her, and then she just vanishes! That is absolutely despicable! If you ever see that whore again, I'll do you the favor and kick her ass!!"

>She growls and huffs when she's not speaking, by the grit in her teeth she's gotten her blood boiling, so you back off to let her vent.

>"I know you probably think I'm going over board but- *RRRRRRR* Loyalty means everything! You NEVER just abandon a potential mate like that. Even with the ones that don't work out, you always make your peace!"

>She really has a focus on devotion.

>"You know what I think happened? I think you were getting played! She sussed you out as a trophy! And then she abandons you and makes you worry just so she can get railed with all the exotic men and adventure she could ask for! And when she comes back... there you are, lonely and accepting to let her back in!"

>You can't remember anything about Carmen that suggested that, the jackal is angry and spitting her venom without restraint.

"Teth'ra, that's enough."

>She nails her eyes straight into yours, you can read so much anger, but also something shy just behind it, pleading and pushing as her lips close into a frown.

>"Nobody should be lead on and treated like that!... You deserve better... You deserve someone that won't just abandon you. I know you're better than that."

>She breaks away, emptying her lungs.

>"That sort of thing just means a lot to me, you know? So many of those dates after the first one? They would just up and disappear after I showed up. It's a terrible feeling! Nobody like you should go through that."

>The whole thing was a far stronger reaction than you were expecting, maybe you should just stop talking about this subject.

"Maybe we should just let this topic go."

>Her chest swells and deflates as she attempts to steady the boil of her emotions, she looks back up to you with a noticeably saddened expression.

>"I guess I killed the mood again, huh? Damn... I just hate hearing about that sort of thing, reminds me too much of my last... boyfriend. Bastard kept leading me on, end result was nothing. He was lying to me the whole time."

"And how'd that one end?"

>"I had known him for six months. I was so convinced that he was going to be the one, so I was excited when he called me out to meet him for a 'special night' at Monument Valley. I wanted so badly to share something more with him. But then he stops, and tells me that he would like me to join a godsdamned breeding club. He tells me I could make such strong children, as if that makes up for lying to my face for half a year!"

>Her frown deepens, you read frustration and pain in her blues.

>"I should have listened when mom warned me he was trouble. I threatened to turn him in to the cops for running a eugenics ring, and he tried to get violent. I hit him so hard he lost an eye... And that's what landed me on the conscription list."

>She sighs deeply, and you consider turning to the tv to find something to excuse sitting in silence, or at least taking the conversation in a different direction.

>You turn to find the screen displaying nothing but static, so much for cable being unkillable.

>Now what the hell are you going to do?

>"When did that go out?"

>You could only shrug, and you call back on her own hardships in finding someone special. You should at least offer sympathy.

"I don't know... and, uh, sorry. About that last guy you mentioned."

>"Don't be, That's done and over with, as mad as the thought of him or people like him makes me... Let's just try to talk about something not quite as serious, yeah?"

"We really suck at this."

>Looking over, she looks more calm now, although you can still read a faint tension as she lightly shrugs her shoulders.

"The fuck are we supposed to do with the tv out?"

>You have no clear ideas, and nothing you do come up with sounds uplifting since you're lowered into that chop of vague sadness again.

>Whatever she decides upon, the hiss and harsh glow of static isn't accepting of your attempts to settle into your bearings. You turn it off, and are almost immediately plunged into darkness.

>You didn't realize that the sun had gone down and now you had no source of light, the nearest window was shrouded behind heavy curtains somewhere off to the right.

>Now you're in the dark with a pent up jackal.

-...-

>Don't you even start!

>You hear a huff and a large shape over off to your right starts rising.

>"I'll get it."

"Can you even see?"

>"Asking the twilight hunter if she can see in the dark... Of course I can."

>You hear some shuffling around, before a dull thump and a certain voice swearing.

>"Son of a bitch!"

"uh-huh"

>"Before you even start, I know. I'm sorry most places aren't built to handle someone of my size... now then... which one of these is it?"

>With a soft click the hard glow of a light over your head flicks on, handily illuminating the room.

>"Down in front."

>You shift yourself off your back onto your legs instead in order to pull your feet off the table and let her pass instead of bumping in to something again.

>Her Wide hips shuffle by, and those p.t. shorts are clinging to her curves like shrink wrap. You try not to stare, operative word being 'try'.

>She lowers back onto her side of the coach, and makes a show of turning further towards you while resting one titanic leg atop the other.

>"Okay, so unless you have any ideas. I got something stupid we could do."

>You throw your head back to nest it in the leather. Throwing out a deep exhale as you attempt to blow away the foggy ambrosia of alcohol and torrid emotion swimming around you.

>It's not like you have any better ideas than to go along with whatever she came up with.

"Shoot."

>"Truth or dare."

>...

>You roll your head back upright and cock a lazy brow at her.

"What? Are we in college now?"

>"Oh come on! I'll let you go first... It's not like I'm in any shape to think of anything better right now."

>She makes a vague looping motion near her head to indicate the whiskey settling over her higher functions about as softly as a led blanket. She caps it off by staring at you with that pitiable begging look again.

>"Please-."

>Why does she have to remind you so much of your dog sometimes?

"Alright fine. You overgrown puppy."

>"Hey! I'm of reasonable size for my frame, it just happens to be a large one."

-she can say that again, those curves belong on a race track-

>They kind of do, don't they?

>"Now then. Truth."

>Your eyes trace her outline up her shoulder into the fluff of her neck, that silky ruffing of grey looks so immaculately groomed, you can't help but compare it to the matted curls of another canid you know.

"Does Vilka ever brush herself?"

>"hnhnhnhaha ha ha ha. No, I've never seen her brushing. Honestly, mange-mane would look wrong if her fur was actually in order."

>The laughter is infectious again and you find your smile reappearing. Damn your mood is swingy when you're this buzzed, but that's all the more incentive to keep the high up there.

>"You're also supposed to ask personal questions, but now it's my turn. Truth or Dare? Pick one."

>She's being coy, but you can have a hunch she already has a question loaded for you, so you decide to throw her off guard a little.

"Dare."

>Like clockwork an ear tilts, and that quizzical twist follows. You're getting good at reading those things, it's not that different from your old girl back home.

>"Alright then..." The twist gives way to a sly grin and scheming eyes. "Come in close."

>What is she up to?

>"You can either scoot in by me... oooor. You can answer the question~. It's not like I'll hurt you, but if you're too scared."

"Don't you taunt me."

>She grins while holding her head at an angle towards you that you can only describe as obscenely smug. She opens her left arm, moving that particular python out of the way to invite you into her side. When she said close, she really meant close.

-don't let her lord this over you, since when have you backed down from a challenge?-

>Never.

>You narrow your eyes and start sliding along the couch, maybe you should be feeling more of an air of fear getting this close to an anthro so large, but if it's supposed to be there, the alcohol smothered it.

>That is until she leans over and hooks her arm around your back, forcibly pulling you in as you freeze and attempt to hide your neck.

>"Come here you!"

>You feel the weight of her presence to your right as her arm bars over your shoulder before she lazily allows her forearm to hang crossed over your chest.

>Her hold is lazy and for her own comfort, no claws are in your soft bits, and it's noticeably warm here right next to her.

>Guess you were flinching at nothing again. Feeling that warm wall of fur hemming in your right isn't actually all that bad.

>"See? I won't hurt ya. Now then, I believe it's back to me. Truth."

>Her voice sooths from above you with a gentle, if drawling tone. She's comfortable, friendly, and mildly drunk, as attested by that slight hint of alcohol you can pick out in her immediate vicinity, overlayed by her own rich scent of spices, lilac, and honeysuckle, with just a hinting of gunpowder.

>You can also feel her core shift against your side as she parses out the words, reminding you that the wall of silky fur against your side is alive.

>It all makes you wonder how you don't feel threatened here, instead you feel... secure. How odd is that?

"How many of your previous dates thought you were gonna kill them?"

>"Are you saying that just because I wanted you close to me?"

>You crane your neck up to look at the source of her voice to find her looming down at you over her shoulder, reinforcing the point of just how big she is. You try for your best poker face.

"No."

>"...suuure, but alright. It was about half and half. I learned to start warning them that I'm large and intimidating, but that's not enough for some people. The other half got one look at my heritage and started devolving into a complete mess, I cannot tell you how tired I am of random Egyptology trivia, especially when they get half of the facts wrong. Now for you."

"Truth."

>A thin smile creeps across her, and then it grows warm, and then mirthful.

>"What do you think of me?"

>So that's what she was up to. Well, she wants the truth, but it catches a little in your throat as you reach into your heart to pull it out.

"I... Think you are... The most caring woman I've ever known. You saved my life, you're the best friend I could ask for... and I... I feel... safe near you."

>You turn away and go back to looking ahead, the fire is returning to your cheeks. How does she do this to you?

>"You're sweet, ya know? I choose... Truth."

>You can't help but feel an urge to reciprocate.

"What do you think of me?"

>"Uhhm, huh. Well... You're violent, angry, and scared, but I think that's just from something eating at you. I've seen the way you are under the pain. Hard headed, witty, sympathetic, and I think you're just looking for help. And maybe... a little something more."

>"You're a charming, rambunctious smartass, with a sense of loyalty, and a heart of gold."

>Christ, it's getting worse, you can feel your heart stirring at her praises. Does she really think that much of you?

>"Your turn."

>You feel her bearing down on you, pick truth and she'll probably find a way to slip straight through your mental walls. Something nips at the inside of your head to play defensively.

"Dare."

>"hmmm..."

>Shit, what are you getting all revved up for? Just calm down.

>"Wrestle me."

-RED ALERT-

>This half naked giant, wrestling, when you're both off balance thanks to material spirits...

>Hopefully you just misheard.

"Come again?"

>"You heard me. Try to take me down. If you beat me, the game's over."

>She must weigh twice as much as you! How are you supposed to accomplish that herculean feat outside of an auger frame?

"I think this bet is rigged."

>"Awww, yer just scared. heheh heh... So here's the question I pose to you instead, if you insist on being a pansy: Have you ever had thoughts about me that were more... risqué?"

-put us between a rock and a hard place why don't you?-

>The answer to that question is yes, but like hell you're going to admit that. She would never let you hear the end of it.

>Your choices are thus: embarrassment intense enough to cause you to spontaneously combust, or getting your ass handed to you by a woman far above your weight class.

>Your fear broils at the second option, and you'd surely lose unless you get really clever with it, but you don't want her lording those errant musings over you with the first option, and in your inebriated state you've already learned that you can't get away with lying.

>"I'm waiting shrimp. hnhnhn" That chuckling is not putting your chances under a good light, she's confident in a victory.

>inhale, count to four, exhale

>You'd rather deal with the temporary ass beating than the character assassination, she's one of the good ones, she won't hurt you, maybe you can even have fun with this.

"Fuck it! You're on."

---

>You stand considering your options against the opponent in front of you, almost eight feet of muscle and woman wearing a cocky grin and a steadily wagging tail, probably weighing somewhere in the neighborhood of roughly one bug warrior.

>That would be nearly a quarter of a ton, but it's not like any part of her is fat, aside from her chest... and maybe those hips.

>The principle strategy is clear, try not to let her grab or pin you, an obvious tactic, but the alcohol fugue circling in your head only allows you to recall some hack mantra of a leaf on the wind, whatever in the fresh hell that's supposed to mean.

>If you were a leaf being carried by a breeze you would be an erratic, imprecise bundle of schizophrenia and dying cells being moved completely out of your own power by an outside force, and what little impact you had wouldn't even make a difference.

>If you were going to go at this, you would do it the way a pilot would try to face off against a superior machine: stay mobile, go for where they're weak.

>Her ears would be brushing the ceiling if she didn't keep them pinned down while standing at her full height, she would likely prefer not to move too much because of that.

>Her stance was low and wide, a defensive gait to lower her center of gravity in an effort to keep her balanced.

>You've seen a few older pilots display something similar, a tactic for bracing when one expects an enemy machine to ram them.

>She's banking a lot on those legs, if you could drive in low enough to knock one of them out from under her, her weight would do the rest of the work and carry her onto the floor. There was no way you would knock her down going for her directly, even if she feigns a top heavy weakness by bending over to hang her breasts off of her frame. You specifically remember that comment about her lack of back pain.

>The more you size her up, the more daunting the challenge looks, she's twice your weight, has a longer reach, and is eager to go.

>"Come on ya pup! Hit me!"

>There was also the fact she was throwing playful taunts your way.

>That damn smile was disarming, infectious, luring you into a false sense of security. So you stay on the opposite side of the room.

>The couch and table had been shuffled out of the way to clear more of a ring for your bout, and the two of you squared off at opposing ends.

>You took a far more mobile stance than her, ready to break either way if she charges you.

>"Come oooon-! I'm right here!"

>That smile hasn't vanished, neither has the rather furious tail thrashing, but her voice has taken on a tone that goes beyond just pleading, it's a distinctly needy whine.

"Why are you so insistent?"

>"It's fun! Come on, it's been forever since I've done this."

>Was this sort of thing common with her? You had to wonder if this is something nostalgic to her childhood.

"So you do this often?"

>"Yeah! Doesn't everybody?"

>A bright smile splits her muzzle, and her sapphires shine with a childish glee, she's really loosing a lot of her restraints tonight.

>Look at that face! You just don't have the heart to tell her most kids don't pounce on eachother when they're young, and far fewer still do it well into adulthood.

>So far she hasn't made any moves, just stood there ready and bantering at you, she only faces herself to keep track of you as you stalk around.

>That light of glee gives way to mischief as she 'innocently' brushes an arm against one of her breasts, conveniently angled with the cleavage window straight towards you.

>"You could always just answer the question. Don't make me come over there."

-this cheeky bitch-

>She gives that characteristic smirk and narrows her eyes, and the second she looks away from you, you take the chance and charge.

>You close the distance quickly as you hunch low and throw your arms out to go for her leg, you're sure that in your stupor lack of balance you're going to fall over, but if anything it will help you aim lower before you hit the ground.

>Which makes it all the more of a surprise when you hit something wider than your intended target, and judging by the core of iron past the plushness your head and shoulder are pushing into, and the looming sense of something large just above you: You've ran headfirst into her stomach.

>She gives a hearty grunt, and barely even moves. Before you can remove your clasp over her back and scuttle away, her burly arms brace over your stomach and lock you into her.

>"Nice try pipsqueak!"

"Oh shIT!"

>You feel her lifting you off the ground by your stomach as everything goes topside down, she allows herself to fall backwards while throwing you over her shoulder and using the fulcrum of that movement to carry you with her.

>Both of you hit the carpet, the impact isn't damaging due to the roll of your hunched back, but it knocks the wind out of your lungs.

>"HA HA hah ha ha!"

>She certainly sounds like she's having the time of her life, but what about you?

>With a mental check over, you find nothing is damaged, or at least not enough to raise an alarm, you're just winded.

>You have to commend the girl, she baited you perfectly, she must have squatted lower before you hit to catch you with her middle where she's strongest. And you fell for it like a complete idiot. Still, She could have absolutely thrown you around, but went for a softer side instead.

>You're starting to see the appeal of this, a low exhilaration comparable to a fight, with almost none of the danger.

>You feel her grapple has slid upwards onto your chest, less of a grapple now, more of her crossed hands just resting on your chest.

>Taking the opportunity to break away, you grab both of her wrists and lever her hands upward by pressing your thumb into the back of her wrist and using your pointer and middle against her palm, levering them backwards as you scoot down across the floor to gain distance.

>"aaaAAH-TCH."

>Probably not the most comfortable for her, but it slips you away from her reach over her head enough that you can sit yourself up.

>Looking back, you find Teth'ra starting to pick herself up with one hand pushing the floor and the other hanging resting by an upraised knee.

>She's slower to pick herself up, and you press in with the advantage to attack from behind.

>You snake your left arm under her chin and pull it back against her throat while bracing your forearm in a lock with your right elbow, putting her in a chokehold.

>No matter how large she is, she still needs air, you just have to keep locked over her until she gives the signal that you win.

>Your hope that she's not that obstinate is quickly turned to concern as she continues rising, clasping her hands around your arm and tugging hard at it.

"Come on, just because I'm small doesn't mean I can't beat you, say uncle!"

>She gives a low growl as she continues rising, and her back hunches under your chest. You do not need to go through this again.

"Give!"

>She's not listening, and with a sickeningly familiar lurch similar to the one you felt during your first crash, she tucks forward into a duck, throwing you off as your hold breaks.

"Fuuuuuck!"

>You land on your back again, seems it's starting to become a theme with her.

-hmmmm-

>Don't you start!

>While you aren't hating this, being thrown around twice now isn't exactly fun. Your lungs got knocked out again, so you take a second to breathe.

>"Ha! Nice try!"

>Between the struggle to fully catch your breath again, the blood rushing from the tumble, and her tone, you can't tell if she's just being facetious.

"Don't you patronize me woman!"

>"Nah- Ya gave a good shot, I'm just better."

>You relinquish your squint to try and offer a retort, but freeze cold at the shock awaiting your eyes.

>Two heaving breasts hang just inches above your face, squeezed together in the loose binding of a white tanktop about 4 sizes too small before it was stretched to hell like a sports bra. Two pointy nubs show themselves clear as day through the fabric, she definitely isn't wearing a bra.

>You can feel a buzzing starting down below, and you pour smoke on it even as your face erupts into shameful flame. They wobble as she crawls over you, and you get an eyeful of the cushioned hills of her softened stone stomach as she moves further forward.

>The pillars of her legs look absolutely monolithic from this angle, and you can't avoid staring upward along the herculean swell of her thighs.

>She pauses as her hips stand above you, and you realize with a snap that she's planning to lock your head in with her legs.

>You rush in a deep breath and pull your legs into you before you're out of time, you can already see her starting to lower towards a position where her thighs can snap shut around your head. You did not want to be thrusted in so close to those mountains on her terms right now.

>You would never hear the end of it.

>"Now, just lie still and- hooumph"

>You have just enough space to press your feet into her middle, and you strain your legs hard to raise her off of you.

>It seems she wasn't expecting you to be this flexible, and she does little other than offer strained groans as you manage to press your legs further outwards, raising her thighs away from the beartrap position they almost had on you.

>You can feel her abdomen shifting against your footing as she continues belting out stout grunts to voice her obvious discomfort and astonishment.

>You finally manage to pivot her forward and push yourself back with the strength in your arms, dropping your support of her completely a little ways off the floor.

>She impacts with a hearty thud and a loud grunt, flopping flat onto her stomach. At least she has impact protection.

>You pause again to catch your breath, lifting that much woman off of you was straining, but you felt like you accomplished something in turning the tables on Teth'ra twice now.

>You could see her tail lazily wag even as she gathered her bearings, she really does think of this like a game, and is absolutely determined to still have fun with it.

>The mood is infectious, as despite yourself, you find a smile creeping across your skin.

"Heh hehehehaha hah ha ha! Not so high and mighty now, are ya?"

>"Hnhnhn hah hah ha. Tricky bastard, I am gonna getchya good for that."

"Bring it-"

>You feel something clamp around your calves, and look down to see you're not exactly clear of her legs.

>Interlocking your calves with hers, she rolls to the left before you can get your bearings and manages to turn you about onto your front.

>Just as quickly she releases you, and you realize that she's using the opportunity to get back on her feet. You scramble forward to try and beat her to the punch.

>Managing to regain your feet under yourself and not falling over, you whirl about to find Teth'ra wearing a wide grin and a still wagging tail.

>You're back at square one again, but as long as she's not throwing you, you're actually kind of having fun with this. Maybe it's the liquor talking.

>So you turned the tables twice, and got a more than graceful look at her ample body. A few things did seems to occur as oddities to you, even with the booze.

>Why did she crawl over you for the leglock? Was that little show on purpose?

>There was also some odd smell you picked up for a second just before you managed to lift her off you, but for all you know it's just that whiskey playing tricks on you.

>Her teasing (if it is teasing) persists regardless, as her eyes shine with a salacious gleam.

>"Come on, I know we're both drunk, but maybe you can pull another fast one on me. Don't be scared. Come a little closer~"

>The whiskey is settling onto her heavily, and the giggling that comes after her little taunt still paints the picture of a friendly, if teasing, bout.

>You can't be sure of things yourself, as that stuff seems to be kicking your ass harder than you remember.

>This time, Teth'ra decides to make the more aggressive move, she steps towards you to test your reflexes as you scuttle a step or two in response.

>You're just waiting for the step that turns into a lunge.

>That doesn't mean you can't fuck with her a little in revenge for those throws.

"You wanna say something, angel? Or are you too scared?"

>Consideration dons her muzzle as she seems to stop and try to recall on something.

>"Uhhhh... I, uhm."

>She seems to distracted to keep track of her ears, they turn fully towards you and you read what visible flesh is there as redder than marker lights.

>That is definitely how she blushes, a fact you are more than willing to wave in front of her to set her off balance.

"Hnhnhn ha ha ha ha!"

>"W-what?"

"I figured out how you blush."

>She stares, waiting for some sort of confirmation to append her anxiety.

>You smear the cockiest grin you can manage across your face, and tap at your ear three times.

"Come at me with those christmas lights of yours."

>The look in her eyes turns intent, and a growl that seems playful in tone rumbles out of her throat.

>Now you're baiting her, and you plan to try and muddy her footwork and get in behind her again, as it's obvious you won't last in a head on clash.

>Better option might just be dodging out of her way and trying to curtail that momentum into working against her.

>But maybe you can somehow blend both options into one...

>"Ooooh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"Out-fuckin-rageous, fruitcake."

-and there she goes-

>That did the trick!

>The jackal barrels at you with all of the hard charging prowess of a linebacker, and your instincts to the related sport kick in.

>You fake her towards adjusting one way and then move the other, this time with an extra twist. You grab near her shoulder into the warm plush of her fur, and stamp your foot into the floor, rotating on your heel and pulling against her to change her direction.

>"Gaaaeah! *gasp*"

>She's too off guard to resist, at the apex of your pivot, you lunge backwards, tugging her hard to offset her balance just as you let go.

>"*Yip!*"

>With a shrill alarm bark, she stumbles out of your swing, but admirably manages to avoid falling over by catching herself a few times despite how dicey her footing looks.

>She stands to catch her breath a second, but she still visibly leans off kilter, dizzy from the erratic swing in direction.

>If you can bait her into trying to move for you again, you can probably set her further off balance, leaving her open for someway you could come up with to restrain her and claim victory.

>Gotta love it when a plan comes together. You try to get her going for another pass by goading at her pride.

"Awww, whatsamatter? Does little 'ol me have you off balance?"

>"S-Smartass!"

>"You just don't want to admit yer gonna lose to a humie half your size."

>She gives a boasting growl and thumps her fists on her waist, here she comes again.

>You did not give her enough time to think that this is exactly what you wanted. This time you actually forgo the fake out, and she changes direction opposite you like she was expecting it again. You take advantage to grapple her again, this time your hands land on her front, and you grip hard to wheel her about again.

>"Nghaaah~!"

>You let her wheel away with another tug, and have to wonder at those noises she's making after you let go.

>"Ahn~!"

-wait a second-

>...Is that what you thought it was?

>Teth'ra skids to a halt, stumbling and wavering, her knees shake and her mouth hangs open as she visibly pants. You can see minor shivering elsewhere on her body, and her tail is going all sorts of places now.

>Thinking back on it, your left hand found purchase on something unusually soft that last time, and you squeezed it hard as your hand just seemed intent to bury into it.

>...

>You grabbed her tit.

-nice-

>She might beg to differ, especially judging by how shaken up she looks, but the noises... was she enjoying it?

>You-you actually, grabbed her breast... and the damn thing felt like heated velvet.

>You hope you didn't hurt her tugging on her teat like that.

-maybe there's a wetspot now~-

>Down!

"Teth?... Ya alright?"

>You pause a bit as she beams you with a stare, something more glints in her eyes, but that warm smile makes it seem like she's okay.

>"Heh! I'm fine, just a lil' accident. No big."

>She's still very enthusiastic, her tail is wagging as hard as ever, even if you can swear it's going along a higher arc than before.

>Maybe that sort of thing really doesn't mean as much to anthros.

>"Come on short stuff, show me what ya got!"

>Definitely doesn't really matter to her, guess the liquor just made her vocal. Her challenges stir your competitive side towards action, this isn't done until it's done.

>Cutting right back to the chase, she charges forward, and you have to laugh at her absurd enthusiasm.

>This time she's tricky, and staggers her approach more, helped by her own dizziness that's still clinging to her.

>You have no idea if she's accounting for the fake out this time or not, and it's looking like a coin flip.

>Might as well take the extra step, she is buzzed, so maybe she won't recognize the pattern.

>You fake out and lunge the other direction, but she abruptly pushes in the same direction.

>She doesn't crash into you directly, but it's not a miss either. She sweeps her arms forward for a grab, you manage to duck out of the way to her side and spin at just the right time to grapple her yourself, bracing your right over her chest just under the neck.

>But you feel a lurching sensation again as your legs tangle in with eachother, and suddenly you're both falling into the floor.

>"Oh-"

"shit!"

>"-shit!"

>You use your brace to pull yourself prone against her back as she tumbles forward, hitting the floor with an even heavier thump.

>She manages to stagger her fall with her arms but it's not exactly gentle on you.

>Your head swims, you pause to gather your bearings as your own trick backfired and gave you a minor case of whiplash.

>You're still on Teth's back. if you can just get a good enough hold that she can't sha-oh no.

>The jackal clamps a hand over your arm to keep you on her, as she rolls over with a grunt of exertion.

>nononononoNO-

>You brace for a sensation of your bones starting to pop as her weight starts rolling on top of you.

>It's hard to keep the air in your lungs as your chest shakes, and the pressure settles all over you. Much to your surprise, you don't feel anything collapsing.

>She's heavy, good lord is she heavy, her dead weight alone could keep you pinned, but it's not impossible to squirm your way out of this... if it was easier to breath.

>If you can just lever enough of her off you to lift one side, you can maybe roll with her and break away this time to get some breathing room.

>"Give up yet?"

>You detect the cocksure swagger of someone who's assured themselves they just won, not that it's hard for her to think she did with her laying over top of you.

>Your left hand is somewhere near where she feels the heaviest, and suck in as much air as you can through clenched teeth to roll her off of you.

"HNNNG!"

>You heave your left arm upwards into the mass of flesh it's currently resting under, and you squeeze hard to secure a good point for lifting her off.

>Whatever you're pushing against feels more like nylon than her fur and is rather pliable.

>"AhrrrRRRrrrRRRrrr~!"

>OH GODDAMMIT, YOU DID IT AGAIN!

>You would have to ponder what exactly that half moaning, half growling noise was later, right now you just needed her OFF.

>She arches her back, relieving the pressure on your ribs, enabling you to gasp in a second wind and keep pushing.

>In her lapsed concentration, she releases your other arm too. Fuck it, this works!

>You manage to get her up onto her side enough that the effort required slides off dramatically, and you roll with her.

>She flops onto her stomach and you keep going, completely freeing yourself of her and spinning yourself away to catch your breath.

>You stop on your back with an exasperated groan, your lungs feel agitated, you're now a bit sore, and you just groped your best friend twice.

>mental note: apologize for groping her when you don't feel like you're dying

-drama queen-

>Ah shut up!

>Being under what must be close to a quarter ton of royal jackal woman is nothing to sneeze at.

>Which is why you have to stare at the ceiling in dread as you hear movement rapidly closing in from your left.

>Teth'ra rolls herself next to you, before springing into a more upright stance, landing near your groin as she hems you in with her legs over yours.

>She leans forward and uses your biceps to stand her upper body on. With your limbs pressed into the floor and her weight sitting on your legs, you're pinned.

>A triumphant smile curls her muzzle as she tried to speak through her heaving panting.

>"CAUGHT YA!"

>That she did, you really don't have the energy to fight her anymore.

>"Ya done squirming yet, ya little worm?"

>Even if you could somehow slip her at this point, exhaustion has dragged weights onto your limbs. She's tired you out.

"Alright, alright... Fine, you win... Get off me."

>"I don't think so."

"Wha?"

>"You... Put me through a lot... You've been up to a lot of mischief... and I think you need a little punishment."

>She bends her elbows to lean down lower, spreading a wide, toothy grin. Her panting becomes more measured, and a gleam appears in her eye.

>Your thundering heart clenches a little on one of its contractions, producing a shot of pain in your chest.

>The reason for that being that gleam in those usually welcoming blues looks hungry.

>You tense your arms a little in an attempt to maybe move her as she leans in closer.

"Uhhh. Teth?"

>She stares at you, the visage on her snout looking more and more predatory. Trying to lift with your legs gets you nowhere, a sluggish exhaustion drags them down, and her weight keeps them on the floor.

>You can't see that warmth, and your mind races over the possibilities of 'punishment'.

>Maybe she's just fucking around, you're sure she'll stop if you voice your mounting worry...

"Teth'ra?!"

>The corners of her mouth curl up, with a breath, her muzzle plunges down towards you, mouth open, fangs wide.

>The glint of teeth

>You squint your eyes shut, and wrench your neck towards the side and hiking your shoulders to try and hide it.

>The wave of a thrash coils through your body, but nothing produces any results beyond fruitless squirming. You can't throw an arm up for the predator to take instead of your life.

>You force a rush of cold air into your lungs to scream.

>Tremors wrack your tensed body as you brace for the end.

>...

>It does not come...

>A shrill whine comes from above you. Like a dog, abandoned and despairing.

>The heat from a wash of breath flows over your throat, and you feel something slide over the bump of your adam's apple, gliding up into the base of your jaw before departing.

>A sensation that was smooth and wet.

"d-d... d-d-did.. d-did you just li-"

>You're stopped dead in your stuttering as you turn back upwards and your eyes meet a pair of brilliant azure lakes absolutely wracked with guilt, but there is such a familiar, warm sincerity behind them that their owner can speak nothing but the truth of the heart.

>The jackals lips peal open, and her concern laden voice calls a song that strikes you deep within a place you haven't named in years.

>"I would never hurt you."

>Your heart stirs in a way you haven't felt... since Carmen.

>Teth'ra sounds absolutely distraught.

"...Teth."

>Her grip slides off of your arm and forces itself under your back as she lets herself down and embraces you tightly.

>"I'm sorry!... OH Gods, I'm Sorry! I didn't mean to do that to you."

>She was so quick to stop because she scared you. Her care runs that deeply. Something in your chest flutters in the tumult of emotion.

"Hey! Hey! It's not your fault."

>"I know, but I went too far!"

>You hug her close as she breathes deeply, rubbing gently along her back to calm her. Slowly, her breath steadies.

>"I'm sorry."

"You were drunk, you weren't thinking that far ahead."

>...

>"*sniff* I-I guess you're right, I just thought that-"

"Shhhh. It's okay, I'm fine, you just gave me a scare. It's okay."

>You hold her close for a while, just letting her breathe out the tension, she didn't mean any harm, but she's so hard on herself for it.

>Eventually, she breaks from you and slowly stands both of you up.

>"I-I should go to bed, we can uhh. We can talk about this in the morning."

"Do you want me t-"

>"No, nono... I'll get some blankets, you can sleep down here on the couch, only bed is upstairs and uh... I won't fit on that. Sorry."

"Teth!"

>She refuses to met your eyes.

"Look at me."

>Timidly, she raises them, and you catch them in your own eyes.

"Don't beat yourself up over this. I forgive you."

>She nods, stills shrinking away from your gaze and saying nothing.

"I'm fine with sharing the bed. I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning. Now let's just get some sleep."

>You wanted to tell her it was all okay, it was just your personal shortfalls acting up again, but some confused storm brewed in your chest, swaying your heart this way and that. To top it off you developed a pressing headache that refused to let you think, there really was no choice but to sleep it off.

>With great trepidation, the jackal leads you upstairs at your coaxing, eventually coming to the master bedroom with a king sized bed absolutely smothered in silk sheets and faux-fur comforters, it looked more like a nesting of blankets than just a mattress.

>The jackal shuffles away from you as you still read the melancholy clinging to her. She manages to tuck herself into the far side of the bed, shuffling herself deep into the covers before flicking off the warm glow of a bedside lamp.

>You join her, settling into the near side by the glow of the only active light source left in the house.

>Once you've thrown the heap of blankets over yourself, you notice that she seems to have focused heavily on a soft, warm feeling from all of these pseudo-fur comforters. Almost like she tried to simulate sleeping with a group of furred bodies, even if it's just you and her.

>You flick off the light, and are greeted by a barely audible goodnight from the jackal.

>Poor Teth'ra...

>You just want to hold her close.

>And tell her some of these confused feeling swelling under your chest.

>Rest calls for you, dragging you down as you're surrounded by warmth and faux-fur.

>That song from almost a month ago calls back into your head.

>If you had to hope that you don't fall in love... wasn't it already too late?

>She may be a jackal, she may be twice your size, and she may be very confusing to deal with at times.

>But maybe those lines can cross.

[-------------------------------------------------------------Chapter End-------------------------------------------------------------]