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[[PART 1: Introduction]]

This is a story about TAGs. Thaumaturgically Ascended Guardians. I'll refer to them mainly by the acronym going forward, for obvious reasons.

Even when I was a small boy and stories of magical heroes fighting evil armies were part of everyday fantasy, I knew deep down I would never live in the same reality as the protagonists of cartoons and games I enjoyed. It was futile expecting that such a cold, mechanized world could ever “evolve" to accommodate super-powerful demigods and alien creatures that still walked and talked like humans. I couldn't even be disappointed that I had missed such an era of history, like one might lament living in an age long after the planet has already been fully explored and “adventurers" were no longer needed. No, we just never had the blessing of a world portrayed anything like the fiction I was used to. Count me among the pleasantly surprised who stood frozen in shock when the first TAGs finally stepped out of the shadows and into our reality.

The reveal of TAGs stupefied me, along with many others. Obviously, reactions were mixed, running the gamut of both the “excitement or feared" and “invested or apathetic" spectrums; some people are too difficult to please, to the point where even living heroes don't excite them. But even more shocking than the TAGs themselves was how quickly people acclimated to them, even those who were deathly afraid of these spontaneous superhumans. It was if the silent majority of mankind wanted something like this to happen, deep inside their hearts where childish wishes were locked away to rot. Some sort of massive upheaval of our perception of reality and the chance to live out the countless stories and legends that have been embedded in cultures throughout mankind's history.

There's a strong possibility that we were simply prepared for this radical metamorphosis because of the rapid changes of society we observed (such as the amazing strides in technological innovation that seemingly came out of nowhere), which would later be ascribed to the same phenomenon that brought us TAGs: Thaumaturgy. The image of what reality used to be like just a decade ago is so dramatically different than it is now that the whiplash has made many people choose to believe, “No, this is how the world always was. We were just living in a dream before." And even though most people have settled back into the mundane monotony of everyday existence after the novelty of TAGs wore off, we will never quite return to the dull Earth we left behind. That bygone period of our planet has become more like fiction than history.

The arrival of the TAGs is still so recent that explaining what they are is both redundant and necessary at the same time. Everyone knows them by name—or at least by acronym—but so few know exactly what they are, largely because TAGs themselves aren't entirely sure. Most of them are born with the gifts they possess, albeit first manifesting years into their lives for no concrete reason. There has been such a deluge of theories and “professional explanations" that any truth to their origin is certain to be lost in the cacophony of conversation surrounding them. Finding the truth has even taken a backseat in the population's collective desires; because so many people have just accepted TAGs as part of how the world works, the general sentiment towards understanding their origins has become, “Why bother?" This mentality is part of the reason why they have been classified as Thaumaturgically Ascended Guardians. In layman's terms, it took a literal miracle to transform our planet into its current state, and people now suspect some form of divine intervention is responsible until science can prove otherwise.

So, in this story about TAGs, I have no definitive answers about what they are or where they came from, nor can I pretend to offer any new insight to their genesis. I am not one myself technically, either. Why, you may be asking, am I even bothering to write?

This is a story about a TAG—just one in particular. I may not be able to tell a tale about the breed as a whole, but I personally feel as though I'm the most knowledgeable about the one most important to me, one nobody else will ever have the level of insight I do on the subject. If I don't tell the tale of this TAG, there's little chance anybody will. There are a few reasons for this, one being that my subject lacks formal literacy to the level of being able to construct an autobiography, but the biggest reason I suspect is a lack of popularity (both of myself and my subject) compared to the other more famous TAGs. I can only hope I'm wrong, and that my story will bring more attention to the lesser-sung heroes of our current age. As I've said, explaining what a TAG is would be fruitless and redundant. You know what they are, and there's little chance future generations won't know what they are with ever-improving detail. However, it would be best to describe them as I know them from my own perspective so you—the reader—can also have better context to who I am as well.

TAGs are mortal, living individuals, the majority being humans though not exclusively so, born with miraculous physical and supernatural powers. It's theorized they've existed for decades or even centuries prior to their initial recent appearance, maybe even inspiring the mythologies, folklore, and religions we study today, and yet they've somehow escaped widespread public perception until just now. Believed to be products of divine beings, as I've said, but who still act of their own free will and ultimately serve no master but themselves. These are not “knights" like the noble, holy warriors of lore, but many do use their powers for righteous causes. But on the other hand, many others inevitably use their abilities for ruthless, oppressive reasons. In the eyes of the cynical crowds, “TAG" means “Thaumaturically Apocalyptic Genociders," among other negative definitions. They exist only to bring about a modern Ragnarök that would deliver mankind to its destruction, and every incident of collateral damage caused by even the best-intended TAGs only validates the critics' rantings. In the end, “TAG" is simply a catch-all term for those gifted with this caliber of inhuman might—this Thaumaturgy—regardless of their affiliations or morality.

Some TAGs are blessed with frightening intellect instead of (or even in addition to) physical strength, and shortly after the first few TAGs were revealed to the world, the Sin Armadous introduced themselves. I know that many survivors and scholars shy away from referring to them directly, hoping to rob them of power by refusing to credit them, but I am among those who believe we shouldn't be paralyzed by fear of a name, and I will be using it sporadically through this story. Again, their infamy alone would normally be reason enough to not bother explaining what might be common knowledge for readers, but it's worth describing them in my own voice for further story context. Their role in the war, and especially what came after it, had an unmistakable impact on the lives of both myself and my TAG subject.

The Sin Armadous were a child's depiction of what an “evil army" that heroes fight against looked like. Led by a coalition of mad scientists and megalomaniacs from across the globe, they used our cherished technological advancements to invent even more mind-blowing creations: legions of murderous androids that marched to their commands as foot solder fodder, weapons that shot ballistics of pure energy, and terrible terraforming machines resembling colossal beasts that literally ate the landscape itself. Dozens of other TAGs who lacked the mental prowess of the army's leaders but weren't lacking in raw strength severed as loyal lieutenants, controlling their own platoons of mindless drones to claim any territory they saw fit under the banner of the Sin Armadous. No longer was war about complicated notions of nations and politics; this was a pure battle between “good" and “evil." Too many people mocked the Sin Armadous as a parody of cartoonishly diabolical threats, as though it was all a publicity stunt done by troublemaking adolescents, but the army was ridiculed only briefly before earning their respect from a fear-stricken world, starting with the first wave of cities they razed that cost hundreds of thousands of lives. No “pre-war" military could hope to stand against a foe in which the soldiers weren't human and the commanders were far more than human.

But the introduction of the Sin Armadous was just as terrifyingly swift as their defeat was. When the evil legion rolled across the country with their platoons of war machines and squads of their own loyal TAG lapdogs, they were repelled by opposing TAGs standing in as saviors of the people. The “good TAGs" had secretly been training their whole lives for just such an occasion, and their entire life's purpose was fulfilled when war broke out. Many TAGs fought alone, becoming local legends among the people who were the closest spectators to their valorous fights. Chances are you have a local TAG of your own who is celebrated like a homegrown sports team. They certainly possess the power to be one-man armies, though in order to take down the Sin Armadous for good, several would have to band together and pool their might against the army's core leadership. Five of the most well-known saviors who teamed up to eventually fight against these high-ranking commanders were retroactively known as the Proto TAGs, named for being among the first to have their names spread throughout the world thanks to their heroic deeds and memorable styles.

Once again, there's a nearly nonexistent chance you've never heard of the Proto TAGs—they are simply that ingrained in the events of the Sin Armadous war. Not every TAG will share equal importance in the chronicles of history, sadly, and the Protos will likely always be the favorites in the eyes of the media. There is an approaching tsunami of documentaries and biographies about the Proto TAGs that will no doubt bolster the recovery of a post-war economy as accounts of their heroism will be bought and studied religiously by all generations. Every altruistic action and legendary victory they've earned will be marketed and sold to wide-eyed fans, inspiring new soldiers and warriors willing to fight to protect their nations even if they never can get a taste of what a TAG is capable of for themselves. They are celebrities in purest form, supplanting the conceited actors of classical entertainment who merely pretended to be heroes in pre-war media.

By now you may already be frustrated at how much I've glossed over regarding the war against the Sin Armadous, among other critical details of TAGs and Thaumaturgy as a whole. Such a cataclysmic event for mankind deserves to be discussed respectfully, but if you want someone to paint you a vivid picture of TAGs fighting their bloody battles, or answers to who were the true masterminds behind the Sin Armadous, you will have to look elsewhere. Maybe someday I'll tell a story about the war itself, but this was never intended to be a story about that. After all, this is a story about one TAG in particular. Granted, this is also the story about worlds being changed beyond what was once recognizable, but while most people would say the introduction of TAGs or the war in general was the moment reality was flipped on its head, my own milestone came long after the Sin Armadous was defeated. My world was radically changed thanks to this one particular TAG, the star of this story.

Before I finally start getting to the “current events" of my story, I should explain the TAGs most relevant to the tale—all of them being the renowned Proto TAGs whom I fought alongside of for a short while. And once again, these are heroes who need no introduction, though for the sake of posterity I will give them the credit they deserve. If nothing else, shamelessly using their names might help market my story a little better. They will no doubt be earning fortunes from their own public appearances anyway, enjoying a comfortable retirement of media residuals and public appearance fees. I don't say this in any attempt to paint them as vain or greedy, however. They've earned every bit of their prosperity, and those who can find purpose in a post-war world are the most fortunate. It's a sad truth that most TAGs only know fighting for the sake of protecting something, and so they will no doubt become aimless and passionless without something to strive for. Some may end up as the villains of tomorrow, solely so they have a reason to fight again, but I have reason to choose a more optimistic outlook for their future.

Starting from the top of the popularity chain was Risk Pagron. He was, and still is, the most well-known TAG among them all. Perfect masculine features framed by windswept bronze hair. Perfect herculean physique poured into stitch-popping “casual combat" clothes. Perfect everything wrapped up into a mortal package that encapsulates the epitome of what the word “hero" has embodied since mankind first sculpted statues of their legends. It would take an entire army's worth of bullets and lasers to match the destruction that Risk can wreak with his unexpected, archaic weapon of choice: a mere sword. A masterwork sword forged for a TAG—actually—since no shopping-mall replica blade could sustain the impact of the strikes he made with it. In the end, the defeat of the Sin Armadous proved such an arsenal wasn't even enough to put him down. Risk will no doubt be the posterchild for the Proto TAGs for decades to come. He would certainly be the perfect modern role model for kids if only he didn't have such a childlike brain to match his childlike heart. I say this with the utmost respect for my friend should he ever stumble upon this story, or have someone read it to him.

Then there was Locket, government name unknown. Spunky, fit, tomboyish, and trained to be more lethal as a bareknuckle brawler than any seasoned marksman. Locket was supposedly recruited by the military before they even knew of her powers, and she was one of the few TAGs allowed to hone her growing abilities against state-of-the-art training technology when the secret got out. She was constantly clashing with Risk both emotionally and combatively, and from what I gleaned from their heated arguments they were the same way as childhood friends. It's really no wonder the two of them disappeared together after the last of the Sin Armadous was wiped out, though what surprises me the most is that they disappeared at all. They offered almost no time for interviews or fan interaction before setting out for the horizon, enjoying only a single night of celebration in Claybank before disappearing the next sunrise. Locket was always far more excited to settle down away from the eye of the public after the war was over than Risk, and I assume her desires beat his in the end. An entire army wasn't enough to ground Risk; if only the Sin Armadous had a raven-haired girl like Locket on their side.

Bless the soul of Amaryllis Guard. “Amy" was unmistakably the most adored Proto TAG (with the fewest number of haters) because of her sweet demeanor and youthful, redheaded beauty, having all the modesty Risk lacked and all the traditional feminine grace Locket passed on. She was, regrettably, also the only member of the Proto TAGs to meet an untimely end in the midst of the conflict, slain in an attempt to protect the others from harm. It was her death that drove Risk and the others to a new level of power they themselves doubted they had. I will fully admit I was smitten with Amy myself for a while, amazed that such an innocent girl could be born in such an ugly, cold world of concrete and metal, let alone maintain her radiance among the atrocities of war until she passed on with a smile on her face. Even her homespun dresses and quaint fashion made it seem as though she had stumbled into our world from a century earlier. Her beauty was matched only by her kindness, and the few brief interactions I had with her made me feel like I had the strength of a full TAG myself. Amaryllis joined the team when the Proto TAGs visited her hometown of Claybank and persuaded her to join them, being a hero for more than just her small community. Thus, it was at Claybank that we honored her sacrifice with a funeral ceremony once the fighting was over, returning the poor girl to the people whom she cared most about.

Next was Quested. To this day, I know almost nothing about the guy. His outfit and his ramblings all screamed “timeless sage," with flowing robes that would seem completely anachronistic if the world hadn't just welcomed mystical swordsmen and two-legged beast people with open arms. He also played to his image as a fabled wizard masterfully, with this Thaumaturgical powers appearing like genuine storybook spells rather than the passive physical enhancements that other TAGs possessed. I never once saw much of his face thanks to his cloak's high collar and his massively brimmed hat that masked his features with a void-like shade. He was supposedly Risk's personal fighting mentor, tutoring the soon-to-be hero years before the Sin Armadous made their first threat on peace. I always assumed there was some deep loyalty between Risk and Quested because of their student/master relationship, yet by the time the celebration festivities of the post-war victory had begun, the enigmatic magician was halfway out of town.

“Not sticking around?" I managed to say to him the evening before he vanished.

“Mmmm, afraid not, my boy," Quested replied in his usual sing-song voice, which further added to how much of a storybook character he felt like. “My job is complete for now. I must begin training the new generation of heroes, you know."

I blinked at his response quizzically.

“Are you saying the war isn't over?" I asked, almost afraid my words themselves would trigger a destructive blast nearby.

“Heheyho! I dare say it never will be, my boy!" the mage replied. “The Proto TAGs stopped a great evil this day, but we did not remove evil from this world. Until such a future comes to pass, I must continue preparing our successors for battle. Who knows? Perhaps I will be training your children someday!"

There was a foreboding cadence to his voice as a sprinkle of magical sparkles doused us, and I pictured him winking at me from under that wide brim of his, smiling from one side of the collar to the other. I didn't have time to ask what his cryptic words meant, though, since he skipped off immediately after, carried at his heels by weightless clouds. I once believed I would be more at ease to not have such a wacky old whatever-he-is so close to me anymore, but a part of me feared at that moment not knowing where he went and what he was up to. No longer bound to the obligation of being Risk's mentor, he was cursed to busy himself with whatever crazed old TAGs do with their boredom. My final interaction with him was a major reason why I decided to drink that night, after brushing the sparkles out of my hair.

Finally, there was Marrowbone, the only non-human member (possibly excluding Quested) of the Proto TAGs, and one of the only bestial creatures in general to become a TAG. Now's the right time to take a digression and talk more about these “beast people."

The gradual appearance of TAGs and the kind of power they possessed was no doubt part of some greater swell of mystic energy that came (or came back) to our world, and its influence seeped into Earth's ecosystem just as much as it seeped into her people. As previously stated, the “Thaumaturgy" of the TAGs was named such because many believed this power was divinely granted, and there were those who believe Mother Nature herself was that divine presence, aiding in the recovery of the planet and later in the fight against the Sin Armadous as a way to reset the damage humanity had done to her. It was easy to dismiss those people as environmental zealots when they first declared themselves as “prophets of the new world," but we've all seen the videos that soon gave them credence. It started with several confused city denizens noticing on their outdoor home security cameras that feral woodland animals, like deer and rabbits, were running off with the strangest assortment of household appliances: things like toasters or clothes irons or cooking utensils. Weeks later, the objects would be returned with handwritten notes of apology and gratitude, and the camera footage showed these same animals now escaping the scene on just their hind legs and wearing ill-fitting human clothing.

Expectedly, these incidents were brushed off as hoaxes. Superhuman divine warriors was one thing, but reality wasn't ready for anthropomorphic animal people. It wasn't until the Sin Armadous shook the earth with their war machines that the “beast people" were spooked into the safety of human cities in large herds. By that point, humanity was already so mentally overloaded trying to understand TAGs and Thaumaturgy that walking, talking animal folk felt like an afterthought, and acceptance of them only met resistance after the fighting was done and everyone had ample time to freak out about what they were dealing with. But although the beasts weren't any threat to humans in the war of the TAGs, they also couldn't lend much strength to support the “good guys" and help save their homes. They were skittish and often quite small, and most were still adapting to their evolved new bodies and figuring out human mannerisms. And yet, humans saw potential in the beasts; if TAGs were guardians to save humanity, surely these animal people could be, too? Marrowbone was just one answer to that question.

The cataclysmic whiplash of over a decade ago broke some people's sanity beyond what even the next most open-minded groups would put up with. Groups of “spiritually attuned" advocates eagerly regressed to almost tribal states in an attempt to appease Mother Nature so that she might save Earth from the evil army. They shed their modern trappings of society and performed rituals to summon a great defender of Earth, reportedly using both human sacrifices and feral (i.e. not yet “uplifted") beasts in gruesome, barbaric ways. No rational witness to these rituals can vouch for exactly what happened on the night Marrowbone was introduced to the world, but rumors say it involved the lifeless body of a woman wrapped in the bloody pelt of a wolf, a farm cow for tribute, and a blazing offertory pyre. The cooled lump of ashes supposedly stirred hours later, and Marrowbone rose from the pile.

Some say Marrowbone was “born" as a four-legged animal like the other beasts but naturally learned to walk upright and communicate in a human language, thanks to the gifts granted by Thaumaturgy. Others swear that she started as a frenzied looking human girl—not much different than the one presented for the sacrifice—and gradually mutated into the creature she is today in a form of lycanthropy. The only thing these conflicting reports can confirm for certain is one lesson: people who spurn the convenience of modern recording technology aren't great at keeping history. Whatever her origin, “Marrow" was gifted to the world as an instrument of Mother Nature's vengeance to turn the tide of war, ready to fight the Sin Armadous for no reason other than to satiate the smoldering rage she harbored inside her. Although she was invited into the Proto TAGs when they first crossed paths, she evidently instigated numerous scuffles with Risk and Locket due to her temper, only eventually (begrudgingly) respecting them because of their sheer power. Thankfully, she had composed herself significantly by the time I joined the team. The awe I had when meeting living heroes like the Proto TAGs was quickly replaced with trepidation the first time Marrowbone loomed over me with a wicked snarl. Just one look at her was all I needed to have her image seared into my memories forever, even if I had never seen her again from that day forward.

She was a golden-eyed, off-white lupine with large, dirty blotches of gray-tan fur all over her body, like fresh rainy puddles on dry soil. Marrowbone also possessed a “second" coat of dark, reddish fur under her upper spot-pattern layer, giving the impression of a flickering fire when the wind parted her pelt and revealed the red hairs underneath. The upper layer of white stopped at the arms and legs where only red fur grew, making it appear as though her limbs were eternally soaked in blood and ending in large paws that were equipped with razor-sharp claws. The overall mix of off-white, gray, and deep red shades is what led to her Proto TAG name of “Marrowbone," as she looked quite figuratively like a stained, skeletal bone with chunks of fresh meat still clinging to it. The name eventually shortened to “Marrow" amongst the Protos, though the lupine creature took offense to anyone who called her that if she felt they hadn't earned the privilege yet.

Though her double pelt was thick and lustrous, it was not so dense that it concealed the numerous scars she accumulated during her countless battles or her steel-like muscles that were especially visible on her toned underbelly. Despite being the size of a standing bear, her features were unmistakably canine, though some were exaggerated to monstrous proportions. Her ears, for example, were tall and notched, and her fangs often protruded from her muzzle like the teeth of a sabertooth. She wore mainly human clothes—t-shirts and ripped shorts that tended toward the “plus" sizes while still looking small on her—with some added leather vests and belts strapped to her body for little reason other than intimidation. And yet, there was something subtly human about her silhouette that made it unmistakable she was female. Nobody had seen anything like her before, but Marrow was called a “she-wolf" far more often than being called an “it" or “the dog."

Marrowbone is, according to her, the only one of her kind. I would believe that with no other evidence. It wasn't a fact that seemed to either please or bother her whenever she said it. It was stated as definitely as saying the sun would set at the end of the day. Other canines joined the woodland animals in the “spontaneous uplifting" that made them much more anthropomorphic, with most being domesticated dog breeds, but they were far smaller than the towering, werewolf-like TAG. She divulged no recollection of a “past life" or even a childhood, whether as an actual child or a lupine puppy. To her, she was always Marrowbone, and she was always born to be a firebrand for battle. It's another mystery I'll have to disappoint you with further, as I'm sure neither her nor I will ever be able to share much more of her origin.

Those were the core Proto TAGs, but there were also the others who made up the Proto “team." I myself can be counted as one of the lucky ones to join their ranks. Truth be told, several other “sidekicks" came and left the Proto TAG team over the course of the war. Some left for a variety of reasons—injury, fear—while others met an unfortunate end at the hands of the tyrant army. No matter how trained in combat a civilian was, no “mundane" human could ever hope to compete with a moderately sized squad of Sin Armadous androids, let alone one of their TAG lieutenants. Civilians were more of a liability than useful support, which is why many TAGs chose to fight alone and draw the attention of the army away from the cities. A human's best chance at survival was if they became “TAGged" by one of the divine heroes, obtaining a scrap of residual power that rubbed off with enough exposure. Once again, we know very little about what it truly takes to get TAGged, and billions of dollars have already been invested in trying to unlock this secret so that mankind may take the next evolutionary step together.

I was TAGged during my short time with the Protos. They came to my small town out of desperation, looking for a place to temporarily escape the Sin Armadous and recuperate when the strain of battle was wearing them down. Risk and Marrow refused to admit they were retreating, but there was a clear longing in their faces for a few moments of peace and safety. As a bespectacled, physically unimpressive young man, I couldn't do much to help fight in a war I was already outclassed in, but I had enough knowledge of the local area to use the best vantage points for keeping a watchful eye out while the TAGs rested in a saferoom the neighbors had made. I wasn't too terrible of a shot, either, and I managed to pick off some patrolling Sin Armadous scouting bots before they wandered too close. When they were fully rejuvenated, I helped guide the Protos to a higher spot in town where they could plan their progress and get the jump on enemy TAG lieutenants. As the Protos fought foes better matched to their skills, I held off the grunts with what was left of my town's defenses. I would have never credited how long I scraped by with my life to any semblance of combat proficiency, but the longer I was allowed to hang around the Proto TAGs, the more I started to wonder if my ongoing survival wasn't just because of dumb luck.

When the adrenaline from battle pumped through my veins, I suddenly stopped needing my glasses. I could see without them better than I ever did with them. I wasn't even aiming down the barrel of the rifle when I shot—the gun practically pointed itself to its next target. It wasn't long before I was holding and firing it with just one hand, with my arm refusing to be moved in the slightest by the kick of recoil, as if I was held in place by an invisible, steadfast hand. Nothing I did was nearly as impressive as what the full TAGs were capable of, but I felt incredible nonetheless. Fighting came naturally, and I was taking small steps towards a warrior's body each day. To my surprise, I was allowed to accompany the Protos for the rest of their journey once they saw I was TAGged, serving as a scout and spotter to watch the movement of the enemy. I soon scavenged a Sin Armadous high-tech mounted rifle (more like a small cannon) that was attached to a destroyed mini-tank, which was so unergonomic and cumbersome to hold with human hands that only I could effectively use it with my newfound abilities. I did it largely because of the gun's impressive stopping power as well as a countermeasure to prevent anyone else from using my own weapon against me, though such a uniquely unorthodox weapon had the adverse side effect of becoming more prominent in people's tales of me than the guy who actually wielded it.

For all the criticism I give Risk, I have him to thank for endorsing my place on the team, as well as for the moniker I would go by ever since. Hollow-Point. It started as an endearing nickname, with seemingly no justification except for the tangential detail that I used a gun. When I asked Risk about his reasoning, he merely pointed to my eyes. It didn't even occur to me until then that my eyes took on a silver color while I had the spark of Thaumaturgy coursing through my body, and my dark pupils on the silver irises gave the whole eye an interesting “bullet hole on steel" aesthetic. The nickname soon morphed into my new alias after every other Proto TAG adopted it and stopped regarding me as a simple civilian tagalong. I haven't been called by my birth name in years, and some days I forget I ever had a past identity before Hollow-Point.

My total time with the Proto TAGs was short, comparatively speaking, but it felt like a grand adventure that defined my whole existence. Though I would never wish for such a tragedy to befall innocent people again, I would be lying if I said I haven't been guilted by feelings of emptiness and nostalgia when the war ended. I felt I had found my role in life, but the curtain fell on the Sin Armadous performance before the rehearsal was even finished. We managed to intercept their leaders one stormy day, and Risk and the others—including reinforcements of several other TAGs from nearby regions—fought with everything they could with the roar of humanity praying for their victory. The tyrant army was annihilated, and any forces serving under it that were still scattered across the world collapsed instantly. The strife was over, though its effects would carry over into the new world we rebuilt from the scraps of the old one.

We mourned the dead first before we had any right to celebrate. Countless lives were lost that needed to be thanked, and the sacrifices made by Amaryllis in the final hours had to be honored. However, the young woman—who almost seemed to predict her time was coming with an air of acceptance—had repeatedly said she would want her parting legacy to be about happiness rather than grief. And so, we forced ourselves to perk up for a celebration in her memory rather than a solemn wake of pity. It would be held in her hometown where the Proto TAGs had first recruited her to their cause, virtually untouched by the devastation of the battle. Claybank.

[[PART 2: After the War]]

Claybank is a modest, suburban town, albeit one that could easily pass as rural with how packed with gardens and nature parks it is, crammed in a relatively narrow stretch of territory that's sandwiched between a lake on one side and multiple step-like escarpments on the other. Even before the war, it was a quiet slice of pseudo-country life removed from the noise and pollution of the big cities, while not quite “removed" far enough away that you couldn't still see the monolithic skyscrapers and the belching smokestacks of the capital city far across the lake on a clear day. I never would have had much interest in ever living in such a rustic, sleepy place, even though my own hometown was far from the bleeding edge of modern society. However, the peacefulness of Claybank after the war felt like heaven, miraculously spared from the destruction and bloodshed, as though we had stepped back in time to find paradise. It was a flower blooming from a crack in the concrete of a dirty city sidewalk.

Much like the town as a whole, Claybank is home to many small shops and cozy restaurants that eschew modern, trendy sensibilities in favor of “that humble, antique feeling." These are the types of businesses that invite you to spend the afternoon under their roof and immerse yourself in the community, even if you never give them a dollar while you visit. The Swept Inn, for example, became my favorite socializing spot in town after just one visit. It was a homely little bed and breakfast business with a respectable bar in the lobby to draw in visitors, where they can drink to their limits and then buy a room to sleep it all off. It was a hidden gem of Claybank, even on a night when nowhere was safe from the raucous celebration of the Sin Armadous defeat.

I wasn't there necessarily to be “hidden," though the mobs of rabid TAG fans and grateful innocent civilians hoping to meet the Protos were all packed into the more popular bars from wall to wall, and I was content to avoid the crowds at a quieter venue. I would no doubt end up pushing my way through those throngs of people just to be ignored at the front of the pack anyway, as Risk and the gang got their deserved attention being the real heroes of the war. As a result, I settled on the Swept Inn, and I would forever be a loyal customer to them from the moment the bartender and patrons acknowledged me.

“Hey, Hollow!" the other customers said, some a little quicker than others but just as warm and inviting nonetheless. I was truly a nobody compared to a real TAG, but somehow the name “Hollow-Point" had spread through the town, along with my association with the Protos. Thinking I would have been ignored elsewhere in town may have been a hasty worry.

All my drinks were on the house that night, so I passed along the charity by paying for anyone else who walked through the door. That made me even more of a hero in their eyes. I sat at the bar counter with pride, sliding drinks down to new arrivals and adding them to my growing tab. For once, I was getting a taste of the glory warriors like Risk savored every day. Admittedly, I was a little concerned about burning through all my pocket money once word got around town there were free refreshments with minimal wait, but to my relief, few strangers found their way over to the Swept Inn. The star attractions were elsewhere, packing bars with the promise of signing autographs and taking pictures. However, one of those scarce few visitors to stop by my chosen hangout was one I was not particularly longing to see.

Marrowbone.

She threw the door open with a bang and bowed her head just to get down through the threshold. The nails on her feet clacked loudly as she took slow, heavy steps. There was an unusual emptiness to her expression that troubled me more than her fiercest snarl. I knew when the bestial TAG was angry and I could avoid her accordingly, but when I couldn't read her demeanor at all? Anything could happen. It was the uncertainty of when something once so consistent—even if the usual state is something angry or negative—is changed without reason or warning. Her eyes scanned the room, settling over in my direction and making my stomach flip. Was it me she was after?

“Wuh...welcome by, Marrowbone!" the bartender said, trying his best to remain cheery and hide his nervousness. Even for a grizzly man like him with the experience to handle unruly guests, Marrow was a bit too much beast for a mere human like him.

The vicious she-wolf was always treated with respect while she was part of the team, but by herself she invoked only fear. It was as though a surviving remnant of the Sin Armadous had just barged in with revenge in her eyes. Even those who had moments earlier declared themselves fans of the Proto TAGs shrunk at her entrance. It was obvious they believed the rest of the Protos were responsible for reining her in and keeping her from an unchecked bloodlust, and that she was only someone worth admiring as long as she was properly leashed and fed. Now that her “retainers" were absent, nobody would be able to handle her if she snapped. The mood of the bar soured. People started looking to me—the only other available Proto—with expectation. I would never have the nerve to tell Marrow just how much I pitied the way they treated her.

She lumbered over to a recently vacated seat beside me, causing it to creak as she dropped her whole weight on it. She stared down at the counter, resting her giant paws on the wood and saying nothing. I could see the reflection of the frozen patrons in the mirror behind the bar, half focused on the she-wolf and the other half on me. If I showed any sign of weakness or inability to de-escalate the situation, they would bolt out of town faster than Quested did. Maybe that's why he vanished as quickly as he had? But even conceding to the fear behind the way she was avoided rubbed me the wrong way; thinking “I understand how these scared people feel about her" felt like I was wrongly taking their side. Memories of the way kids immaturely ostracized one another from my earlier school days resurfaced. Nobody wanted to see the bullied kid endure so much pain, but nobody wanted to stand up and be their only friend. I had to be the one to show the others everything was fine.

“You're just in time, Marrow!" I said, slapping the counter with keen awareness of where my hands landed. “Drinks are on me tonight. What can I get you?"

The she-wolf didn't respond. At least she didn't object to me calling her by her nickname. I cleared my throat and motioned for the bartender to bring two more glasses of what I was already working through. He slid one in front of the lupine and the other right between us. If she accepted both, I would not fight her for it. She firmly gripped the first glass and downed it all in seconds, nearly putting the whole glass in her mouth so her muzzle could catch all the liquid. The hairs of her mane bristled as though a light breeze passed through her pelt, flashing her red undercoat for a second, but she made no other reaction to the alcohol. It dawned on me that I never actually saw her drink alcohol before. She was notably less sloppy with the liquid than she was with regular water, anyway. The glass came down to the counter with a heavy thud, and I nudged the second serving closer to her.

“You, uh, want anything to eat with that?" I asked. The bartender was hovering over me on standby, reaching for his notepad as though he were about to draw a gun. When Marrow gave no answer again, I held up two fingers. “We'll take the steak bowls, please. Extra steak."

Marrow threw back her second drink while I ordered a few more for the whole room. The merriment of the Inn was much more subdued than before she entered, but the flowing alcohol eased the tension. The smell of the cooking steak from the kitchen helped the awkwardness as well. The townsfolk began to chance walking by the lupine TAG to approach me. A few clapped me on the shoulder and shook my hand, thanking me for my role on the team and throwing some hasty praise for Marrowbone as if practicing a ventriloquism routine. Several others followed suit, though I suspected their gratitude was more from the booze charity than my battlefield actions. One person even called me “Risk" as he staggered out the door. Soon the barroom was almost entirely cleared out save for a handful of patrons, and the bartender was taking every opportunity to check up on the food's progress. Marrow and I were alone at the counter.

“I have nowhere to go."

I stopped mid-sip. Her words rumbled softly from her throat, and I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly. Much like her hybrid body structure, there was definitely some semblance of femininity in her voice, albeit hidden behind a course, raspy layer. I've heard chain-smoking elderly women who had songbird voices compared to the she-wolf. Marrow was never particularly eloquent either, but she had a solid grasp over human language that never required translation and she was quick to learn idioms and sarcasm, especially when it was at her expense. Only Risk ever dared to take repeated jabs at her.

“Ah, sorry?" I said, bracing myself for the worst.

Marrow's chest heaved with a deep sigh.

“By tomorrow, the others will be gone," she said. “I will...go out with them, but they'll leave me behind. Risk and Locket know where they want to go. I...I don't."

“Yean, Quested already abandoned us," I chimed in, trying not to let the dower mood stew for too long. “Poof! Gone. Big hat and all. Barely said a goodbye!"

The alcohol was already making my head swim, but I couldn't just stop talking and make it more of an uncomfortable scene. I kept droning on without taking a breath, making my head lighter and lighter. “But he couldn't leave without more of his wishing well mumbo jumbo...you know how he is." I picked up a random accent to mock the wizardly TAG with. “There's adventure still out there for yo_u _all, and what have you. Then he started talking about children for some reason."

Marrow sat in silence. My tipsy small talk wasn't having great effect. Thankfully, the steak bowls slid by to save me from further embarrassment. The sight and smell of the meat mound layered over rice and vegetables brought a slight grin to the lupine's face. She picked up the bowl with both paws and opened her mouth wide. She wasn't particularly fond of utensils with her meals. But she stopped before the first bite. Her eyes darted around the room in the mirror reflection, catching the looks of the few remaining patrons hidden in the far corners and the bartender still finding excuses to make frequent trips back to the kitchen. They all stared back at her with unease. It was the type of look that a sheltered city dweller might give to a wild animal in the middle of finding it tearing fresh prey apart. The lingering fear wasn't lost on Marrow. She set the bowl down on the counter and gingerly tried to pick up her fork in her giant clawed fingers. My heart twinged in sympathy. I spun around and tried to give the others a reproachful look, but it probably came across as drunken nausea. I picked up my own bowl and leaned in close to the lupine.

“Coward," I whispered. I shook the bowl and let the layers of steak avalanche into my mouth. The rice and veggies underneath missed the mark and flopped onto my lap. I chewed what little I caught with a daring glare at Marrow. Her nostrils flared.

“This little bit of fame going to your head already?" she snorted, picking up her own bowl again. “You used to be so quiet, dumb pup, now you're saying stupid things. You're lucky I don't hate you too much."

The lupine dug her snout into the steak and inhaled the meal. I shoveled in what I could with my hand to keep up the pace with her. The alcohol already had a foothold on my inhibitions, and it only got worse as I drained my next drink to keep the pipes lubricated from all the sticky rice. The remaining patrons stared in shock. The bartender did his damnedest to clean up the flying debris as it bounced all over the place. It wouldn't be the first mess he would have to deal with that night on my behalf. I managed to clean the bottom of the bowl before stomach cramps set in, forfeiting the eating match and resigning to just liquids as the lupine called for another full bowl.

“Shhcrawny runt," Marrow slurred, cackling with pride. If she could blush through her fur, or at least show more of her red undercoat, she would have been absolutely radiating from the booze. She clearly wasn't tolerant to alcohol for someone of her size, but no rational person would take the easy victory over her and chance how she'd react as a sore, drunken loser.

We slowed down on the indulgence, though the alcohol kept coming for at least another hour. The massive lupine herself had met her limits of food and drink by the time her second steak bowl was scarfed down. But even after finishing our last glasses, we were rooted to our seats, basking in the warmth of the Inn as we tried to have sloppy banter with one another.

“Maybe I un'destimated you, Hlallho," Marrow said. Her voice felt somber, though a subtle grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle. “Ish-shame you never gotta' fight wiff us much. I would'a liked to shee your full strenfh. I 'eard you even fished off a TAG we soffen' up fer you."

A heavy weight came down on my shoulders as the lupine draped a muscular arm around me. Her words stung me in a sobering way, but what could I do? She was right: I wasn't a real TAG fighting the real fights, and the war was over along with any opportunity to prove myself. I would never be a hero on par with the others, and it would be a miracle if I wouldn't already be forgotten by morning. What would my legacy be in this new, free world? What did I have left in it? Well, a big fluffball hanging on me, for starters.

My own personal war against intoxication was turning into a losing battle. The drinks had stopped, but my body was becoming too fatigued to fend off the stupor. The colors of the Inn blurred together, and the soft lights swallowed my vision until they too darkened and succumbed to the void of night. I dearly wished I could remember what happened to end that strange night as I woke up late into the next morning, lying in bed at a small clinic by the lake shoreline. Several diminutive mice people were learning how to treat patients, scurrying all around the room as the human head nurse walked in to check up on me. My brain had to reboot before I remembered that the world we lived in now had these peculiar animal people living with us, and it wasn't just a vividly surreal dream I was having, or a strange realm of the afterlife I had passed on into because of alcohol poisoning. For better or worse, I hadn't died. However, I was tightly bandaged in several spots around my arms, neck, and torso.

“Just some minor abrasions," the human nurse said. The mouse assistants repeated her words to themselves with confidence. “Nothing that needed stitching, but you were bleeding quite a bit. Didn't anyone tell you the fighting's over, Mr. Point? It's not going to good look on the news if you go around town picking fights with people just because you can."

I couldn't tell if she was mocking me or not. Starting a fight with strangers definitely didn't sound like me, but I couldn't think clearly still reeling from the hangover. The nurse clicked her tongue.

“I can probably give you something to help," the nurse said, fully aware of my discomfort. “Unless you'd rather just go back to the bars for a little hair of the dog. Up to you, hero."

The thought of more alcohol made my stomach roll. As I swallowed back the nausea, something tickled my mouth. It tasted like I actually had some loose hair in my mouth. My thoughts wandered back to Marrow, the night before, and then the other Proto TAGs. The lupine had mentioned something about them leaving town in the morning. I learned shortly later that, just as she had said, the rest of my team already departed. They went their separate ways, and I was left alone in Claybank. My “new life" after the war was already cold and solitary.

[[PART 3: Forgotten Memories]]

Nearly three full seasons had passed since victory over the Sin Armadous, and I was still in Claybank. I was planning on leaving after I recovered from the night of celebration, but the mayor got to me first. Although I was far from a real TAG worth honoring, the townsfolk were already enamored with me. Buying drinks for everyone the previous night may have helped my reputation. They wanted to have a remnant of The Great Proto TAGs give some hope back to the community, especially after they lost their own homegrown hero, Amaryllis Guard. Her small cottage residence was left vacant, aside from the poor girl's fresh grave near her cherished flower garden, with no known family to inherit her legacy. It was already decided then that the town would make the home a historical landmark of sorts, forever idolizing Amaryllis as a treasure of Claybank. However, they also felt it was a shame to let such a nice place go unused, and so the mayor came to me with a proposition.

I would become the caretaker of Amy's cottage, ensuring that I would have a home of my own in Claybank as long as I maintained it and upheld the girl's memory. I was given a little leeway for interior decorating to my own tastes, such as mounting the custom rifle I used in battle on the fireplace mantlepiece, though I would also have to give periodic showings of the cottage for tourism purposes. If I found a modest way to make a living along with the meager stipend I would be getting from the government (for technically being a Proto TAG who risked his life against the enemy), I would essentially be set for life in Claybank. It wasn't the direction I expected my life to take, but until I knew what direction that would be I couldn't afford to turn the generous offer down. Much like Amy, I didn't have close family or other commitments that I myself was eager to return to. The man who came before Hollow-Point was lost to the war along with so many others.

And so, roughly eight months later, I had become a true citizen of Claybank. A couple mornings a week I was an aide to a high school history class, offering anecdotes and perspectives of the Sin Armadous war. A few evenings I participated in a beginners' martial arts club, populated with eager youths hoping to see a glimpse of a TAGged way of fighting. Two days a week were dedicated entirely for physical training, keeping my shred of residual Thaumaturgical power from weakening. I would also volunteer to clean up or rebuild a part of the capital city across the lake whenever a big project was organized, since it was hit the hardest in the region by the war, starkly contrasting how unscathed Claybank was. Any time my plans fell through due to weather or a cancellation, I would swing over to the police station where I was invited to use the firing range to practice my (unorthodox) marksmanship, though I often had to pretend to shoot “the right way" to prevent the rookies from learning bad techniques. And finally, I kept one “day off" open a week for rest and recuperation. But as time went by, the free day felt more like a day of anxiety and stress. My body would be sore from the entirety of the week, but my mind was screaming at me that being lazy and inactive was a sin. Dread was setting in, and while I couldn't find a solution I knew why I felt the way I did. It was the inevitability of my irrelevance.

I wasn't a full-blooded TAG, and I was barely even a Proto TAG at that, but I had garnered a sliver of fame just because of my proximity to the true heroes of combat. As much as I hated to admit it, I relished that feeling of importance and being admired in that brief period. It was becoming difficult to blame Risk for acting like such a glory hound all the time, once I experienced firsthand what the boost in confidence could do to a guy. But while he and the others would no doubt hold on to their fame for the rest of their lives, my own legacy wasn't as secure. If I wasn't training all the time to tap into that small bit of Thaumaturgy I was given, I might lose it altogether and doom myself to a mundane life all over again. What talents did I have to fall back on if that happened? Former Hollow-Point used to be a pencil pusher for a now-bankrupt company.

Amaryllis Guard lived a humble life in Claybank before her powers were discovered and left with the Proto TAGs to save the world. Such a quiet, tight-knit community was perfect for raising a sweet girl and protecting her from the outside world until the time was right. But what did it have apart from that? I was beginning to see how stagnant a slice of paradise like Claybank really was, and I wasn't alone in that discovery. None of the women my age stuck around for very long once they had to means to see the world, moving to the big capitol where all the celebrities—TAG or otherwise—congregated. Not only did I have a hard time finding my future in the “countryside," but there was a rapidly diminishing pool of potential partners to share my future with, too. I was pleased with how my weekly physical routine reflected on my physique, but when the silver light of Thaumaturgy wasn't being tapped into, I was back to being a bespectacled, socially nebbish young man. I never had a level of stardom to help inflate my desirability, except with other veteran soldiers who wanted to swap war stories.

I was beginning to miss the chaos and thrill of battle, and I hated myself for it. A sickening nostalgia for something that could have killed me and millions of others, just so I could have a place and a purpose. That's why I hated my “day off" in town. Summer was rolling around again, and on one warm, sunny afternoon I was jogging all over Claybank for no particular reason. I needed to run the energy out of my body so I wouldn't have the spirit left to lament what I was doing (or wasn't doing) with my life. I ran to one end of town and back three times, barely making it home before my legs gave out. And yet, stray thoughts bothered me for the whole journey. This time it was a nagging guilt that I had forgotten something important, and running around had jogged my memory. It was as though I had missed the most important train in my life, and I was still expected to chase after it to my destination. I was running because I needed to catch up to that train. But what could it have been? I wasn't important enough to disappoint anyone if I missed an appointment or cancelled previous plans.

I stepped into the cool air of “my" home and threw myself onto the leathery couch. It was a terrible idea, since I'd pass out from the exhaustion until the evening hours and be too “rested" to fall asleep, while pestering thoughts would continue to buzz in my head until sunrise. My eyes grew heavy. I needed the nap, and my body was fighting me for it. The antique clocks and chimes Amy decorated her home with clicked all around me, like the heartbeat of the cottage. She was a modernized enough girl to still have a television and internet, fortunately, and I fumbled blindly for the TV remote so I could keep my brain stimulated with background noise.

The news was covering Risk and Locket again. Nothing good, but nothing bad. Nothing of particular significance at all, really. The paparazzi followed them everywhere they went as they tried to enjoy their peaceful lives after the war. I hated the thought of resenting those I truly considered “friends," but all of the meaningless celebrity gossip from when before the world changed was distilled down to just coverage of two individuals, and I was sick of hearing about them. No stories on Quested or Marrowbone either. Any other TAGs were glossed over, no matter what good deeds they continued to do for their communities. Only those who flipped out and attacked snooping reporters ever got a headline worth mentioning, sparking another tedious discussion about the “unchecked" threat of TAGs. I wanted to shut the TV off, but the remote had slipped from my hand and bounced out of reach. I was left on the couch, face down, listening to the rhythm of the clocks and the soothing dullness of the news. The clock clicking became slower and more distant as my spirit was beginning to drift away.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous pounding on my front door. The surprise was just enough to jolt some adrenaline through my veins and drain all the fatigue. I was anchored back to the conscious world, and my heart was beating faster than the clocks. I shouted a rattled “Coming!" as I stumbled over to the door. I should have been more careful about answering the visitor so quickly in retrospect, but I saw little trouble I could have been in. Nobody was here to get revenge on me, or rob me. I opened the door and immediately recoiled back. Piercing golden eyes were inches away from my face, tracking me as I retreated a few steps.

It was Marrowbone, and she brought a plethora of emotions for me to pick from. Confusion, excitement, a little fear. A lot of fear, actually. She also brought several overstuffed bags, which seemed to be her whole life's personal belongings. One was slung over her shoulder while the other was nestled under a furry arm. A third was wrapped around her waist with a large patchwork sash, far more spherical in shape than the lumpy bags in her grip.

What an...odd way to lug your stuff around, I remember thinking of the image.

The lupine inhaled deeply, staring me down.

“Hollow," she snorted. It wasn't the friendliest of greetings. She looked overheated as well from the summer sun.

“O-oh, Marrow! Good to see you again!" I said as casually as though I had just bumped into her at the grocery store. “You, uh, want to come inside for a while?"

I barely finished my sentence when the beast woman squeezed her massive body and all her bags through the doorframe. The inside of Amy's house had a lofty ceiling and plenty of room to move around, but it still didn't make a towering creature like Marrowbone look much smaller in comparison. She took a few steps into the living room and dropped two of her bags onto the floor with a grunt. Then, she leaned back and stretched out her spine. The spherical, sash-wrapped mass was still jutting from her stomach, tied in a knot on her back like a beachball-shaped present.

“Need any help with your stuff?" I asked, motioning to the burden on her belly.

Marrowbone flashed her fangs in a snarl. She grabbed the knot and tugged it loose, letting the sash unravel and drop to the floor unceremoniously. It wasn't another pack of belongings underneath the fabric, and it wasn't a beachball per se. Marrow rested one clawed paw on the gravid swell of her stomach, and the other on her back for support. Her white fur was noticeably thinner on the domed protrusion of her front, showing more of the reddish hairs underneath and making her belly look as though it was glowing with heat, but there was a newfound thickness to the rest of her pelt. I never stared at her for long while we were both on the team, but I was familiar enough with her physique to spot the changes. She had gained a bit of weight, but her muscularity wasn't softened enough to stop her from being a powerful threat.

“I...uh, congratulations?" I said, embarrassed at how oblivious I had been. I could feel the temperature in my cheeks rising, along with some red flags in my mind as I parsed the scene in front of me. Wasn't she the only one of her kind? Who is she having a child with? How do TAGs procreate?

Marrow's eyes narrowed as she padded over to me. Her steps resounded heavily to the offbeat of the pulse in my ears. This was a Marrowbone who had obviously changed in less than a year. I could never predict what she was going to do when supervised by the team—I wasn't sure what she was ever truly thinking—and I couldn't predict what she was going to do to me all alone after who knows what happened to her out in the wild in our extended time apart. The wolf-like woman I knew was naturally angry all the time, but this anger was different. Her rage used to be something primal and bestial, befitting of her role in the war. Her aura now was far more menacing, and her anger seemed to be more...deliberate. She wasn't angry because it was simply in her nature, she was angry because someone had wronged her.

She stopped right before me, looming ominously. I could feel the heat radiating off her body, especially with her protruding belly almost up to my chin.

“Is that all you have to say?" she hissed.

“I-I...what?" I sputtered. The nagging feeling from my earlier run that I had forgotten something boiled to critical levels. It felt like the scene of a nightmare when I would be months late to turn in a homework assignment, only now remembering it would cost me my future. “Marrowbone, I'm sorry, I mean I'm happy for you! I really am! You're going to be terrific mother! I wish I could have heard the good news sooner! I just, you know, I don't have much contact with any of the others, and...."

Something was very wrong. I felt like I was on trial, struggling to defend myself and prove my innocence. But what did I do to upset her? I was an unimportant member of the team with no major role to play in anything that happened. I wasn't responsible for any of the heroic deeds the Proto TAGs had done, but I also wasn't responsible for any of the tragedies that happened. At least, none that any of the others blamed me for—and I would have never heard the end of it if I had. It wasn't like I was responsible for getting Marrow pregnant.

I was too paralyzed by the she-wolf's piercing glare that I didn't see her paw reach behind my head until her pads were already pressing against the back of my neck. Her fingers flexed and her claws gently sunk into my skin. She guided my head down to look at the furry sphere of her stomach. Then, when my nervous brow sweat was nearly dripping over her thin fur, she said those three words.

“It's yours, too."

I swallowed hard. I slowly raised my head up, surprised that Marrow even allowed me to look up at hear.

“What?"

She huffed in response. “You don't remember?" Her lips curled back to show her teeth again.

“No...I, no, Marrowbone. I-I'm sorry, I don't understand. Me? You? Pregnant? How?"

I was steeling myself for a Marrow-grade outburst of rage. I expected her to snap my neck on the spot, or worse. She was already a hulking, untamed beast-person with superhuman powers, and now she had a second mouth she needed to feed. All the physical training I had done could do nothing against a pure-blooded TAG if she genuinely wanted me dead .

“So, you don't remember?" she said again. The venom was dripping from her words. I expected to see a few drops run down her fangs, too.

Remember what? I screamed internally. Never before had Marrow tried to use her words as intimidation when her actions alone always got the point across much easier, but she already mastered verbal coercion. I was nearly begging her to just start yelling at me in her bellowing voice, something familiar to assure me it was still the same she-wolf under all the outer changes.

We stood in silence for a moment, the air tense and heavy.

“Marrowbone," I said aloud. “I...no, I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't 'remember' what you mean. I don't even remember much about that night when we last saw each other. We never even got to say goodbye!"

The outburst never came. To my shock, the lupine's ears folded back. For once in all the time I had spent with her on the team, she looked genuinely hurt.

“I see..." she said. Even her tone weakened. “I was afraid of this. I...forgot for a while, too. I was hoping one of us remembered."

Her paw released my neck and dropped limply to her side.

“Marrow...please," I said. “It's good to see you again. I mean it. I want to know what's going on. What happened since you've been gone? Why...did you come back here?"

The lupine TAG walked over to the couch and sat herself down. The springs creaked in protest with the bulk of the wolf woman. I took a spot next to her for company. She sighed deeply before recounting her tale.

“The day we left town—all of us—we traveled off for several days, by foot. I thought it was because they know I don't like trains and boats, but I suppose Risk and Locket just wanted to be away from people. But after some time, they wanted to be away from me, too...just like I said they would. Told me they would go on ahead and wished me the best, and I haven't seen them since."

Marrow turned her head to the TV, where Risk and Locket were conveniently still the hot topic of the news. The she-wolf didn't react to them like a pet might mistake a television show for her real owners, though. She knew they were long gone in the real world, and she chewed her lip at the sight. It was an unusual expression for her, somehow both extremely human and familiar but still unnatural with how the shape of her bestial mouth and teeth contorted.

“I made it back to my birth home, to my 'people.' It felt like the right thing to do...tell them myself we won. I didn't know what to expect, or what they would think of me, but it worked out fine. At first they celebrated me winning the war, but mostly they celebrated themselves. I was their pride, their weapon that helped save the world. I was allowed to stay with them for a while, but they were wary of me, like all the others. I was...still a monster. Something they made, but still inhuman to them. They looked away when I ate. They lit lights around me when I slept. They were worried I would turn on them at any moment."

My heart sunk. Whether she knew it or not, she wasn't just talking about her own people. She was talking about the patrons at the Swept Inn, and she was talking about the TAG dissenters on TV. She talked more than I ever heard Marrow say in all the days we shared as part of the Protos combined. There was a lifetime of burden she was unloading, like the bags that sat on the cottage floor.

“Then, it got worse," she continued. “I grew in my gut. They thought I was becoming an overfed dog. But my stomach only got bigger, and bigger...and took shape. The other women—"

Marrowbone flinched. The word other made her tongue bitter.

“The women...recognized what it was. I was having a child. That...terrified them. My people never thought I could ever mate with someone and make a child. They hardly believed I would even make it back to the village alive. They assumed I would die in battle, or if I lived I would eventually just...disappear. Walk off to some lonely den to die in peace like I would know my job was done. I was never intended to come back."

She placed both her paws on her belly, stroking the unborn child with an incredible gentleness for her size. I did a double take when I saw movement from within.

“I knew I wasn't wanted there. The stupid ones even told me as much to my face, but I could smell it on the rest of them anyway. But even when I started to leave, they tried to stop me. They were disgusted I was bringing a spawn of mine into the world. They're the bastards! I should have done worse to them before I left!"

The movement in her belly was unmistakable now as the lupine mother worked herself up loudly, but she sensed the disturbance she was causing to her child and soothed the stirring with her paws.

“I escaped and made the trip back here. Alone. I didn't know what drew me here at first, but...it started coming back to me. I followed a familiar scent. Familiar, but slightly different than I remembered it. The smell changed, just like I did. It was a scent that was only 'friendly' months ago, but now...it was intimate."

A chill went down my spine. Her sense of smell was a frightening thing, if it really could pick up “changes" in a person. The fear got worse when Marrowbone looked me directly in the eyes.

“You really don't remember anything about the night before I left, do you?" Marrow said.

I just shook my head.

“Hmph. I saw the wizard on my way back," she continued.

“Wait, Quested?" I felt guilty even speaking up after all the disappointment I was causing her with my unsatisfying answers.

“He barely acknowledged what was happening to me, and he only stuck around for a few moments before vanishing again," Marrow said.

“Yeah, that sounds like him...."

“...But when I told him I couldn't remember what happened to cause this, he only said to 'try and retrace my steps' from after the war. He seemed very confident I would figure out the man who did this to me was, and that I'd be able to find him again easily, too. Once I would find him, the wizard said my mate and I could take a walk together to make us both remember. But I eventually remembered on my own while I was on the way over here. At least, I think I know the truth."

As I've said, not having that eccentric wizard close by to keep an eye on was worse than putting up with his antics in person. His strange, unpredictable ways had been a great boon for the Proto TAGs their entire journey, but I dreaded the day when he would finally lose his sanity to age and time but retain all of his enigmatic behavior and power. If it weren't for Risk's confident insistence that Quested was a good man, I wouldn't doubt for one moment if the sagely TAG was the one responsible for the whole world being flipped on its head.

But in spite of his oddball behavior, Quested's words of wisdom were almost never wrong, if you could decipher them. If you humored his roundabout way of dispensing advice and encouragement, he would almost always lead you to a solution. He took the fight against the Sin Armadous seriously, but at no point did he seem unsure about our inevitable victory. He saw the future, but watched it play out as he lived in the present. If he had an answer to this, I was willing to hear him out.

“So...retrace our steps?" I repeated.

Despite the journey Marrowbone had just made to find me, she had enough energy to walk around town. My jellied legs had enough strength left to let me walk as well. If I ever needed to head back out to a store after I've had my fill of exercise for the day, or when I made my occasional trips to the capital city, I would resign to using the clunky, one-rider scooter I bought in town for cheap. It could probably accommodate two riders my size if my passenger clung tightly to my back, but Marrow riding even by herself was not in the realm of possibility. She hated vehicles anyway, and was content marching to the Swept Inn by foot with no time to rest.

“I'll be more at ease with some answers," she huffed, barely looking at me as we took the shortest route possible to the Inn. No doubt the neighbors saw the she-wolf arrive earlier, but Marrow's return was quickly catching attention from everyone else enjoying the summer evening outdoors. Children playing their yard games either ran off with fright or stood in awe when they saw the lupine beside me; those who stood their ground whispered excitedly to themselves, and even pointed fingers in my direction as well.

The games of “cops and robbers" I remembered from my childhood had a new look now. Reenacting the fight between the TAGs and the Sin Armadous was the popular game the kids played, even though painful memories were still fresh in their parents' minds. Of course, more of the young ones wanted to be the heroic TAGs rather than the villainous army—but the latter was still favored by a different crowd. The Sin Armadous was unfortunately not only spoken of favorably by ignorant, rebellious teens, but it was quickly becoming idolized by those who lamented that the world didn't quite end during the tyrannical conquest. Paraphernalia of the evil army salvaged from the battlefield was getting circulated, though most communities were quick to discipline those who were caught with any of it. I only wished that none of them were stupid enough to brazenly show their support for our enemy in front of Marrowbone, who would be completely out of my control if she was sent into one of her infamous rages triggered by the sight of the enemy's mark.

Thankfully, our onlookers were apprehensive enough not to bother us as we made our way to the Swept Inn, though the anxiety of what would happen once we arrived made the trek unbearably long. It was too early for the dinner crowd and much too early for the nightly barflies, which meant there weren't many patrons inside when we reached our destination. I had been inside for a drink countless times after the war, but something about our entrance gave me a feeling of sentimentality I couldn't place. I felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience, and the coolness of the building was blanketed with a warm fog.

There, by the bar, were the vacant stools Marrow and I shared during the celebration. Before my eyes, I saw ourselves fill the seats, and not a moment later I was looking through my own eyes once more as I was inserted into the events of that night. We had started with a few drinks, and then shared some steak bowls together before washing them down with even more alcohol. That was the most lucid part of the memory I could recall, moments before I had blacked out and woken up in the clinic the following day. Whenever I tried to repaint the scene in my mind after the fact, the debauchery became hazy like the details of a dream slipping away. But now, I could suddenly remember what my drunkenness had blotted out from me.

The banter between the wolf woman and I had been barbed but jovial. It started as words, but then it turned to roughhousing as our inhibitions were washed away. I tried to stand, clinging to just enough self-awareness to understand I had long hit my limit for alcohol, though my legs were too weak to carry me to a safe exit.

“Shhtumblin' like a newborn!" Marrow roared. “Ha! I knew it! I'm gonna' washh you crawl'll the way to yer room!"

The wolf woman stood up after draining her last glass, swaying dangerously. She started to lean backwards, sending panic through my body. I was given a few precious moments to ignore my intoxication as I grabbed her paw and pulled her back forward. I had to plant my feet firmly to keep myself from crumpling under her massive bulk as she flopped over me.

“Room for her...ack, on my tab," I grunted to the bartender. He tossed me a key and I left him to his imagination.

That second room would never be used, but the inn deserved the extra money for all the damage that would be done to the one I already rented for myself. Marrowbone and I trudged our way up the stairs of the inn and to the far end of the hall where my door was. The fatigue of carrying the TAG was sapping my energy, further dampening my memories of what soon followed. The images were spotty once again, though I will shamelessly admit that not every detail I remembered will be recounted here anyway. I'm sure there would be an eager audience for the explicit specifics of what happened next, but those details will be kept between me and Marrow.

We made our way to the bed together. I intended to drop the she-wolf onto it and let her sleep off the drunkenness, but she suddenly took control as though it was part of her grand plan from the beginning. She caught me with one arm and flung me onto the bed, swaying in place with a predatory grin on her muzzle.

“Whooshh the coward now!?" she barked, making me jump. “You're alwaysh makin' jokes...mouthin' to me like I don' un'stand you. You think...*hic*...you think you can take ME? A TAG!?"

It looked like Marrow was furiously scratching an itch under her clothes and leathers as she clawed all over, but in reality she was fumbling with the zippers and fasteners keeping everything secured to her inhuman physique. She eventually unbuckled herself, permanently breaking several buttons along the way and began discarding her attire haphazardly on the floor.

“I told yoouu I wanted t' shee yer strenfh! Soooo get ready!"

The last of her clothes flew into the corner of the room. The full Marrowbone was borne for the world for the first time since her birth. I saw the deep scars covering her hide all over, leaving fleshy stripes where her fur would likely never grow again, though the fur around her unmentionable spots was still thick enough to censor her. She looked like a giant stuffed animal, perfectly covered up from shame even after her whole outfit was shed. I let out a chuckle at the thought of her unintentional modesty in the face of her efforts to be suggestive and brazen. A big stuffed animal couldn't be sexy.

The slip of laughter provoked the she-wolf further, taking offense to my opinion of her attempts at imitating what she thought a human woman should do to be alluring. She snarled and grabbed the frame of the bed, digging her claws into the lacquered wood. Now I was afraid of her. Marrow crawled over my body like the predator she had in her blood. My eyes blurred temporarily, and when they cleared the lupine was inches from my face. I remembered a chill all over my skin, but it was immediately smothered by an intense heat from Marrow's monstrous form. She didn't pounce on me so much as she simply let her weight collapse, squeezing the air from my lungs. She lifted herself up only far enough to give her paws some space to rend my clothes, tearing them off as though she was deskinning her prey. The beast woman mistakenly took my meek attempts at helping her in my disrobing as resistance, and any other stirring I did was halted with some sharp nips to my neck. It wasn't painful or deep, but a drunken, shaky she-wolf with a full mouth of fangs wasn't something I wanted to squirm underneath.

And yet, something within spurred me to do just that. Move. Retaliate. Take charge. It was the meager yet untapped power of Thaumaturgy, restless and yearning to be put to use. Not wanting to become dormant or atrophied just because I thought the fighting was over. It saw the power of the she-wolf approaching, and it saw her as opposition. Not a threat, but a challenge. I wanted to throw off the drunken miasma that was clouding my thoughts and making me lie inactive on the bed. I wanted to connect to the lupine in both body and mind, so that I could imprint the memory of the night in our conscious permanently. I wanted Marrowbone.

That tiny sliver of TAG power I inherited from the Protos flared up. It filled me, like it would fill the lupine moments later. It possessed me with the same bestial fervor that she must have felt with every battle. My own yells filled my ears as I used all of my strength to overpower the she-wolf, flipping her to her back on the bed where I just had been. It was exhilarating to say I had done the impossible and gotten the upper hand in our heated grapple...for one brief moment, anyway. I was panting heavily from the feat, but the longer I paused to reflect on what I just did, the more I could feel the momentary surge from my outburst dwindling.

The dumbfounded look Marrow gave me as she lay on the bed was receding just as quickly, replaced with a growing smugness.

“Try that again," she said, rumbling in her throat with the most wicked smile on her face.

The transfer of power went back to the TAG, as did our positioning. However, I fought to my last breath. We pinned each other. We embraced with as many limbs as we could. She scored my back with shallow but stinging claw marks and continued to nip at my neck and shoulders with her lustful teeth. My hands were already tangled in her soft pelt, and so I had to use my own mouth to busy her muzzle and stop the biting. It was a struggle of dominance, Marrow using sheer might and me using her might against her to steer her actions in my favor. It was as if the omnipresent force of Thaumaturgy had two minds, fighting against itself in a solitary game to determine whether brains or brawn would make best use of its gifts.

Once more I will have to disappoint readers by saying the details of what came next will have to remain private, those which aren't still lost to the haze of the intoxication I was reeling from. I also don't wish to embarrass my own flesh and blood too much with the lurid specifics of the intercourse Marrow and I shared, should this story ever reach their eyes. I won't skip on boasting about the she-wolf's abilities as a lover, however. It was as if her goal was to utterly ruin human women for me forever by setting a standard no other could compare to.

Our intimacy was a frenzy of motion and friction, but the closing memories of that night were of stillness and comfort. I was enveloped by her pelt, given more safety and warmth than all of the Inn's bedsheets combined. I cradled Marrow's snout as I lay in the bends of her body. The earthly smell of her wild hide filled my nostrils, with the heat of our friction adding a hint of smoky embers to the aroma just as her fur was a smoldering bonfire. My mind was succumbing to fatigue at last, and I couldn't remember anything else except the eventual weightlessness of being carried to the clinic by my teammate, spent of all my stamina, covered in fresh scrapes and knicks, and completely dehydrated.

I was back in the Swept Inn. The memories I recounted from that fateful night had played out for me as I retraced my steps from the bar to the bedroom back in the real world. There was no evidence of what had happened between Marrowbone and me in the bedroom we used, as that same room was dutifully maintained and prepared for the next eager visitors the very next day. No doubt the sheets had to have been heavily sanitized from the blood and fluids, if not thrown out completely or burned for others' safety. The only proof of what had transpired three seasons ago was standing behind me in the doorway, jutting out from the abdomen of my former partner. She had her paw resting on her gravid belly, looking at me in solemn anticipation.

“Do you remember now?" Marrow said. I could sense the lingering bit of worry she was trying to mask with her usual demeanor of toughness.

I walked closer to her and reached out for her pregnant swell. She didn't protest at all as I placed a hand next to her bloodstained-looking paw, feeling the thin coat of white and red fur and the stretched skin underneath. Her paw lifted and pinned my hand to her belly; it was a gesture half of fondness, half of warning. Don't forget again, it seemed to say. A subtle kick from under my palm reinforced the command. I looked into Marrow's golden eyes, silently pleading for forgiveness.

“I'm sorry, Marrow. Honestly. I would never deliberately forget someone like you. And...I didn't want to have to try to remember a night like that again. It was...an incredible night, now that I can picture it again." I chuckled feebly. “It was an alright night for you too...wasn't it?"

Her tail wagged slowly, betraying her refusal to answer my question. There was pride in knowing such a powerful, fierce creature like her didn't look back on that night with revulsion, and that she wasn't lamenting or fearful of what was growing in her belly. If she was, she hid it well. I, on the other hand, had to muster up all my courage to think about how our copulation would even make a child, or what the world would think of our act if even “her own people" were so disgusted with her. But I couldn't show that fear in front of Marrow, and I certainly wouldn't be able to show it in front of the child.

We left the Inn and a very perplexed bartender behind, walking back to the cottage with a bit more pep and a few more onlookers. The clinic was not far off our route in the distance.

“So, did you...ah?" I started.

“I took you there the next morning," Marrow huffed. “You were a broken, ragged thing after I was done with you. Shouldn't have tried to fight me, pup. If you start pushing me too hard, I'm going to think you can handle the worst."

Her ears folded back, and her eyes strayed away from mine.

“I was...hmph...mmm'orried about you, though," she grumbled under her breath.

“What was that?"

“I said you shouldn't have tried!"

Pregnancy didn't slow Marrowbone's long strides back home at all, though she punctuated every several steps with a soft grunt. She used to have a hunch to her walk, but now she seemed much taller than usual trying to lean back more to counterbalance the weight. Back inside the cottage, the she-wolf lumbered to the couch and eased herself down. Turns out she was more tired than she wanted to admit. A journey presumably across the country and two trips through town was a little more than just daily exercise. She gave me a defensive look and clutched at her stomach.

“I'm not here to impose," she said harshly. “I came because I wanted to tell you about your child. I'm not going to beg if you don't want—"

“No, you're staying," I sighed, readjusting my glasses.

She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “You mean I can stay." It wasn't phrased like a question, as though she was giving me the permission to accept her residence.

“No, I mean I'm keeping you here and not letting you wander off having to lug that around the world again."

I will admit, I was just as surprised by my own assertiveness as the surprise showed on the she-wolf's face. Even more surprising was her lack of objection to what was essentially a command. Something had unquestionably changed with the ferocious TAG. She normally lacked the patience for being ordered around, but that had shifted into more measured delay with her responses. Cation for the child, for sure, thinking of how much she could swallow her pride if it meant a healthy future for her little one.

“Marrow, we should, uh, be straight with each other, like we used to be back on the team. Professional, you know?"

She grunted snidely. That was unchanged from her past behavior. I smiled back and continued. “I'm not going to lie to you: I wasn't prepared for something like this. But, you and I are...somehow...having a child together, and we can't exactly go back even if we wanted to. I think I know even less about being a father than I do about being TAGged, but I want you to stay here with me for as long as you want. If that means 'forever,' then...my home is your home."

“This isn't even your home," the she-wolf said bluntly.

“Amy gave me her blessing before...you know," I lied. I always did feel somewhat guilty about living in a cottage that was handed off to me without the previous owner's consent, and I hoped Amy wouldn't be too upset if she could see who was bunking in it now. Better a former Proto TAG than some random person mooching off her legacy, I figured.

My eyes wandered from Marrow's deposited bags to the room around us. Living alone in a small, yet lofty cottage used to feel so empty; the space was still bigger than anything I personally ever had before, and with my weekly routine unchanged for the last several months I often felt I could see the habitual paths I walked around the place start to be ingrained in the floor. So much of Amaryllis' home went unused, but suddenly the presence of a large wolf creature with a large, pregnant paunch made the cottage feel significantly smaller. Not to mention I was only supplied with a single bedroom and bathroom.

“Well, uh, make yourself at home, then," I said, gesturing in arbitrary directions to the rooms and utilities. “I'll keep the fridge stocked, so help yourself. Actually, I'll probably have to run out and get a few more things now that...but, anyway! You can have the bedroom, too. And if there's anything—"

“Where are you going to sleep, then?" Marrow said.

“Me? Well, probably the couch. B-but that's fine with me! I've already gotten a few good nights on it when I didn't have the energy to make it all the way to the bed, you know?"

The she-wolf's brow furrowed. She wasn't pleased with the answer, but I was too oblivious at the time to understand exactly why.

“So, do you, ah, know when it's due?" I said, trying to break the awkward pauses.

“Soon," Marrow sad flatly, pushing her stomach out for emphasis.

“Great! Great," I said. “Oh! We're probably going to need a crib or something, huh? And clothes...food...maybe toys...."

“Do you think I'm here completely unprepared?" she said with a low snarl. The wolf hoisted herself up from her seat and snatched one of her bags, tossing it onto a coffee table and letting the contents spill out. There were numerous blankets to swaddle the child in, several baby outfits, and a couple of primitive playthings that thankfully survived the journey to Claybank. “As I said, I'm not here to burden you. I would have needed this stuff whether you were going to be part of my life or not. And I'm not going to sit around like a docile pet after the child comes, either. I'll earn my stay if I have to."

“Y-yeah, totally! And I'll watch the little one anytime you need to go out and...do your thing."

The she-wolf made a rather uncanny human expression. It was the face a friend's unemployed roommate made when you asked what they did for a living.

“...And if you're at a loss for something to do," I continued, “we'll find you something. Whatever you want, so you're not cooped up with the kid all the time."

Marrowbone unpacked the rest of her belongings, which didn't include much except some more blankets, spare clothes for under her “armor," and empty containers for food she had already eaten through. The lupine TAG understood human customs of trade and consumerism—thanks to Amy's cheerful educational lessons whenever there was ample downtime from fighting—but the war against the Sin Armadous didn't offer much time for the Protos to go leisure shopping. Marrow only bothered with figuring out money when she needed food or to replace clothes that were too far damaged to keep wearing. She genuinely had only the bare essentials to her name, like a monk rejecting all superficial worldly possessions. One could argue that even her clothes could be done away with, since her furry hide covered much of what a human might be embarrassed to have exposed, and Marrow didn't seem like the type to worry about modesty. Her thick fur was a serviceable layer of armor anyway, though admittedly not perfect considering all the scars she bore. The she-wolf was on the same wavelength of thought, and she began to peel the extraneous belts and leathers off her body for comfort, leaving just the “human" clothes underneath.

Truth be told, the casual attire did add some humanity to her image, anthropomorphizing her from an armored beast into something I would expect more from the cartoons I had growing up (minus the giant pregnant belly). It was a weird adjustment to see the other animal people around town so readily wearing human fashion without issue, though obvious physical alterations had to be made for them in many cases. Seeing a squat badger in flannel at the store, reaching up to put money on the cashier counter, was a novel spectacle that simultaneously felt shameful to think of as odd. Nope, too much time has passed already to be bothered by this, my conscience would say. You had the chance to question reality before, but you were too busy worrying about the world-crushing evil army to freak out about walking, talking critters.

And much like the animal people who slipped into our society and made themselves a new home, I had allowed an expecting lupine woman into my residence without hardly any hesitation. Without her wolfish features, she seemed to fit right into the domestic life of mankind, dressed like a human and lounging on the couch, gazing at the television like one, too. However, none of her attention was on the TV programming, which had finally given the Risk and Locket coverage some rest. Marrow's eyes were glued to me as I straightened up around the cottage for the new guest. When I left to get some more groceries, she was still staring at me all the way out the door, and then immediately fixated back on me when I returned an hour later. She said little as I prepared her bedroom later in the evening, only giving a curt “goodnight" when it was time for us to part ways.

[[PART 4: The Expectant Mother]]

A full day of exercise with a little life-changing turbulence on the side didn't put me out in as deep of a sleep as I needed. Too many anxieties were peppering my mind, and they carried over to my dreams seamlessly. I don't even recall falling asleep that night; I last remember lying on the couch, staring up at the dark celling for what felt like hours until I was jolted awake by the thunderous footsteps of the mother-to-be. The creeping sunrise outside snuck up on me just as quickly. I hadn't slept so much as I meditated the whole night, but it wasn't a good substitute for actual rest.

“The child was hungry," Marrowbone said, noticing I was awake.

“Yeah, sure, help yourself to some breakfast," I yawned. “You want me to cook you anything?"

“I'll manage."

“Oh...alright then."

I pinched myself just to be sure I was in the waking realm. It was all too surreal to imagine this was my new life, and my grogginess didn't help relieve my apprehension. I was still in denial about everything that had changed in just a year or so, especially the lupine person who stood in my kitchen with the crowded womb. The scene before me was absolutely something that a very lucid nightmare would produce: it looked as though a werewolf had eaten my bed's occupant and was now taking on the victim's life by wearing her clothes. A pinch wasn't enough—I slapped my cheek sharply to get rid of the morbid thoughts.

I tried to focus on more cheerful ideas. Marrowbone's entire pelt of fur was suffering from bedhead, making her billow out with fluff even more than before. She really was like a giant stuffed animal, albeit one covered in the stitches and missing tufts of hair that are signs of being loved well by a child for so many years. Unfortunately, my thoughts then swung back to sadness. Marrow was probably never loved in such a way before. Her ragged look was more like the stuffed toy that sat at the bottom of the sales bin forever, passed over because of a glaring manufacturing flaw. Nowhere near as pristine and enticing as the nearby action figures, which would probably soon be made in the resemblance of heroes like Risk Pagron.

“What?"

I didn't realize I was staring at Marrow the whole time she raided the fridge. Now she was shooting a glare back as my daydreams were distracting me.

“N-nothing. Nothing."

I was extremely fortunate Marrow had arrived during the summer when my teaching aide position wasn't needed, but I had to let me martial arts and other volunteer groups know about my sudden, extended leave of absence shortly after the she-wolf moved in with me. I also stopped by the town hall to put a pause on showing off Amy's home to any sightseers. The excuse I gave them covered the lupine TAG's pregnancy and her acclimation to “my" home, but I left out certain details for the time being, such as who the one responsible for her condition was. The gossip that followed me through town not long after was an appropriate punishment for my cowardice.

“So, the father's not here?"

“There's another wolf TAG out there like her?"

“Damn, he's gotta be massive to knock up something like Marrowbone!"

Buzz about the pregnant lupine was making rounds. It wouldn't be long before the media would pick up on the story and tack it onto their frequent coverage of the other TAGs. From what I've heard—or haven't heard— Marrow is the first TAG to conceive offspring, which was certain to be a hot topic in the news. Luckily, there was a growing number of people sick of hearing about our great saviors, and there was a chance the news might not be worthy of covering. Ironically, I almost welcomed those who were overfatigued of TAGs if it meant the truth behind Marrowbone and I would be delayed just a little longer. My previous wishes to share some of the Proto TAGs' fame had all but dissipated once I saw the consequences of the “monkey's paw" that I could be cursed with. However, the shame of selfishly coveting the Protos' legacy didn't go away with my discarded wishes for fame.

Ignoring the rumormongering crowds as much as possible, I continued my preparation for the new arrival at the clinic a couple days into her stay. The animalistic nurses-in-training had grown in experience much further than the last unexpected visit I made, with several of them promoted to full-on doctors. The beast people as a whole were still getting used to life living with humans, but the strides they made in adapting to human professions was astonishing. Some were even developing hints of a particular appreciation for humans, which in several cases was also beginning to be reciprocated. The potential relationships between humans and these new animal people was giving me hope for the day I would have to reveal to the world who the father of Marrowbone's child was, and hopefully defend me from the media news that would explode in response.

The clinic was unanimously excited to hear the good news, though they were equally disappointed when I told them Marrow might be hesitant to agree to any kind of checkups. All the prenatal care she needed for a healthy birth of her child was being supplied by her bestial instincts, according to her, which the animal nurses accepted better than the human doctors. Fortunately, they gave me their word that Marrow would have a room waiting for her with the best assistance on standby when the day came.

With my schedule freed up, I had all the time in the world to stress about my impending fatherhood. Marrow refused to show any weakness herself, or else she hid it well behind chowing down stacks of snacks. She had accepted my invitation to the fridge without much prodding, and by the time I returned home after my errands, she was loaded up with a full plate of meats, fruits, and an entire loaf of bread. There was a brief pang of guilt in her eyes when she noticed me watching her in the doorway, but it was quickly hidden by a daring glare. It was as though she was challenging me to rescind her refrigerator permissions.

“Take what you need," I said, holding my hands up. “Anything to help the baby grow up healthy."

The she-wolf set her plate onto the coffee table and slipped a paw into the pocket of her discarded vest. The top layers of her “battle clothes" could still fit around her large torso, but there was visibly more constriction across her chest than she was used to when she donned them in the morning out of habit. On most days, the vest and belts lay in a heap, unused but within reach if needed at a moment's notice. Marrowbone removed a clip of money from the pocket and dropped it beside her food plate.

“This is for you," she said.

“A little early for child support, huh?" I joked. Marrow gave me a blank expression in response. “Ah, never mind. What's it for?"

“Food," the she-wolf said. “Risk gave it to me before they ran off. I'm used to hunting for myself, so I never needed it. But you will if you are going to be feeding me. It's...easier to take your offering than it is to hunt like this."

The words visibly pained Marrow to say. She had an immense amount of pride in being a skilled hunter of wild game (the kind thankfully not walking on two legs), so whenever food was conveniently presented to the Proto TAGs the lupine felt cheated out of her sport. Now, she was denied the opportunity altogether because of the hindrance of pregnancy. The TAG looked at the clip of money and then her plate of food, sizing them up as if comparing a few leaves of lettuce against an extravagant feast.

“If it isn't enough...Locket said I could get more money because I fought in the war?"

“Oh, yeah!" I said. “We can probably get you set up tomorrow. Make some calls. I'm already getting a little bit from them myself, but with a child on the way—and being a famous TAG and all—they'll probably give you some kind of bigger reward."

“What is a little bit?"

I scratched my neck sheepishly. Now we were discussing salaries like a married couple. “Well, I've been working some other part-time jobs on the side to cover the rest. I'm not a bigshot like you guys, so I wasn't going to be set for life or anything."

“Tell me what I need to do, then," Marrow said, paw resting on her belly. “I told you I'm not going to be a burden on you.

“It's no problem, really. We'll look into it tomorrow. For now, just take it easy and relax."

Marrow was in a confrontational mood. Telling her to relax didn't help much, either.

“Your constant movement irritates me," she said. “If you're going out somewhere on my behalf, I'll come too. I won't stay put and make you do everything."

“Yeah, but isn't that what you should do when you're carrying a baby? You don't need to overexert yourself."

“The child will be strong if I am."

“Alright, fine, you know best. We'll make sure to go out together, though, just to be safe."

Flipping the idea to sound as if I had to accompany her rather than the she-wolf following me around of her own accord made her grimace. It reminded me of her insistence that she only followed the Proto TAG team for their sake, rather than needing any of their support. On the few occasions Locket confronted the she-wolf and gave her explicit “permission" to leave, Marrowbone would think up different excuses for why she felt she was essential and couldn't abandon the “weak pups" of the group. Now, I was left as the closest thing to having the team around again, and I wondered if Marrow would have sought me out even if I hadn't been the father of her child. She was the definition of a lone wolf...except she couldn't stand to be by herself once she found others she could consider friends. She wanted to be needed, but she didn't want it openly known that she needed others. She allowed you to help her, but nothing more.

“I may sleep outside some nights if I feel like it," Marrow huffed, “so you can use your bed again."

“If you really want to...but I'd prefer it if you slept inside for safety," I said, sincerely worried about her living out in the garden or on the streets. “I'm fine letting you have the bed."

There was hardly a pause before the she-wolf responded. “If I must."

The quick whips of her tail indicated she had played me well. I fell for her ruse much easier than any of the Protos ever did.

The next several days were filled with tension, even though nothing of significance happened. I made daily trips to the grocery store to keep the refrigerator stocked, deeply considering buying a much larger replacement than what Amaryllis got by with. The fridge seemed to shrink each time I loaded it up. Marrowbone's appetite was immense, though no amount of feasting slowed down her constant pacing and reorganizing of the blankets in the corner of the living room she set aside for the baby. She often followed me from one room to the next just for the exercise.

Though the tour groups were put on hold, I still had to maintain the condition of Amy's cottage for those passing by. Yardwork in the garden used to be relaxing and meditative for me, but now it felt like a performance. Marrow followed me outside, watching over my tasks as though grading my handiwork. When she grew too hot outdoors and returned to the cool cottage, she took up post at the window. Every time I glanced over to her, Marrow's golden eyes were gazing right back at me. Any time I wandered close to the front door to enter or leave, even if only for a few minutes, she instinctively followed me to the threshold and waited for my instructions (so she could disregard them and make her own choices anyway). Her life had been nothing but action and traveling up until not even a year ago, and the sudden blockade she collided with after becoming pregnant was more agonizing to her than any injury she ever sustained in battle. I could tell she felt like a caged animal.

“Where are you off to now?" she huffed one afternoon, making long strides over to the front door after me.

Her knack for unintentionally making us feel like a married couple is much more humorous to look back on now than it was at the time.

“Just out for a quick run, since I'm not doing the class—"

“I'll go with you," she said without missing a beat.

“A-alright, it'll just be a short one, though."

Marrowbone cradled her belly the whole time as we took a (much slower than I expected) walk around Claybank. Whether from paranoia or some passive stirring of my Thaumaturgical abilities, the size of the she-wolf's stomach caught my eye. It couldn't have been an illusion—her belly had grown visibly in just a few short days. The throaty growl of the lupine TAG kept me from gawking for too long. Her warning noises were even louder when passing by whispering crowds of onlookers. Marrow's arrival was old news by this point, but the novelty of the pregnant TAG was still fresh. Her image began popping up in the usual TAG coverage in the news, though it was a pre-pregnancy image to accompany the rather sparse information on her development. Whether from their expectedly low standards or perhaps fear of approaching the she-wolf, journalists and reporters didn't seem eager to investigate Marrowbone's current status in person. The townspeople also didn't appear to know the truth behind the two of us yet, even as we became increasingly inseparable while in public.

Still, something about their private murmuring bothered me. Marrowbone didn't need me to protect her by any stretch of the imagination, but I felt oddly defensive having to endure their judgmental gossip. There were the faces I had experienced while I was alone, the “do TAGs think they're better than us?" expressions. There were timid faces from those who normally would be cautious of the monstrous she-wolf, now heightened even further from just how large she was in person. Then there was the mixed bag of fear, disapproval, and even disgust from those hiding around corners or behind fences. They were ultimately few in number compared to those who appeared excited or intrigued, but the harshest reactions always stood out the most. It was as if the horrible people from Marrowbone's little village had followed her to Claybank. I was gravitating closer to her on our walk without realizing it.

“I can take care of myself," she grumbled.

I wasn't sure if that comment was directed at my close hovering or the situation in general.

“I know," I said, at a loss for what else I could say to console her. In hindsight, anything would have been better. Marrow let out a sharp snort and ignored me for the reminder of the walk.

The coolness of the air back inside the cottage felt especially rejuvenating after the uncomfortable walk in the stifling outdoor air. The same couldn't be said for Marrowbone, who remained obviously steamed as she paced around the living room and made several trips to the fridge. I flipped the news on, which soon proved to be a poor move on my part.

It seemed as though Risk and Locket weren't too pleased with their surroundings, either. A passing comment from Mr. Perfect himself about their plans to travel abroad was all that he gave to a gaggle of stalkers, much more than he was willing to give them over the last few months, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the paparazzi. They pestered him for more info. They hastily concocted bizarre conspiracies behind the plan to leave the country. They shadowed him for several blocks until Locket spun around and audibly cracked her knuckles. The two TAGs were going to get chased off by the busybodies, and with no idea what they were planning for the future there was reason to worry Risk and Locket might never come back home.

Our teammates were struggling with the public just as we were, just in their own different ways. It was sympathetic enough for the she-wolf, however, who only became further agitated seeing her friends suffering the same as she was. There was also no missing the look of concern that was bubbling in her golden eyes. The unrestrained, uncaring musings of the news reporters and their talk of the Protos possibly leaving forever was upsetting Marrowbone. She might actually never see her friends again, without ever exchanging a proper goodbye.

“You didn't have to walk with me," she said out of the blue.

“If I recall, you followed me out," I said back, trying to sprinkle some levity in my words to hide the building fatigue I had for Marrow. Why was she always so difficult?

Her rebuttal was a snarl, practically responding to my inner thoughts directly. “Why are you always leaving?" She crossed her arms and puffed out her chest “Are you planning to escape? Run from me?"

“What? No! I'm just trying to get some exercise. Stay fit, you know?"

Her eye twitched. I was quickly remembering why I avoided engaging with Marrowbone back in the Proto TAGs. But now I didn't have the safety of the others to hide behind if I made a terrible slip of the tongue, or blundered into something the lupine was sensitive to for whatever reason. Amy was the soothing voice, Locket was the harshly pragmatic voice, and Risk was the voice to stop everyone cold when he had to step in and be a leader. I didn't have a voice at all once we left the familiarity of my hometown, and certainly no experience or seniority to be talking back to Marrowbone when she go into one of her moods. I was always just the novice groupie.

“Exercise? What do you need that for?" she said, her voice escalating. “There's no more war to fight in, and even if there was, I would be the only one who needs to do the fighting!"

“You're not doing any fighting so long as your stomach gets to the enemy before you do!" I shouted back. The joke carried no good nature or friendly banter. I was losing my own cool, something that I wasn't used to and certainly wasn't utilizing well in my favor. I would win no war of who could yell the loudest against the she-wolf.

Marrowbone lumbered forward, arching her back to gain a few more hairs in height as she loomed over me, though her jutted belly made the scene far less imposing than she wanted. Her upper lip curled and her fur bristled, showing the smoldering red underneath her spotted hide. It was the telltale sign of dominance she exhibited whenever Risk's arrogance rubbed the lupine the wrong way. I knew what would come next, and my heart raced. The shred of Thaumaturgical power within me was aroused as I went on the defensive.

“You're not a TAG," Marrow seethed. “You're not stronger than me."

“I don't have to be," I said through gritted teeth. My own words sounded unfamiliar to me. “But I need to be the strongest I can if I'm going to be a good father. You can't do it all yourself, Marrow. I know my limits. For the sake of our child, learn yours!"

The she-wolf's eyes dilated as she was seized with feral anger. She took one more step forward and swung with an outstretched arm—a blurred arc of red from the forearm that looked always stained with the blood of so many she had mauled before. My power kicked in, giving me the foresight to dodge the strike by mere inches while my feet relinquished no ground to the lupine. I was standing firm and showed no intention of retreating from her tantrum.

“Marrowbone, stop it!"

My resilience egged her on more. The brawls she had with Risk were often so quick because they traded emotional blows so readily. Against someone like Locket, who tried to keep a level head and fight tactically, Marrow felt like she was being toyed with and was promptly spurred into a greater rampage. I may have shared Locket's desire to mitigate a full-on skirmish, but I didn't have her combat prowess to fall back on when diplomacy failed. My TAG-inherited talents were in the gun, which I would never dare brandish against a teammate to make my point. I had to think of another solution. Would letting her strike me end it, after I crumpled to the ground as a motionless lump? A voice inside cautioned against the plan.

I ran out of time to think of anything else. Marrowbone's paw thrust forward again as I braced for impact with something screaming in my mind. This time, I met her strike with a block from my own hand, pushing back into her leathery pads. Her claws curled around my splayed fingers as I held her palm at a distance. She didn't hesitate, lunging once more with her free paw. I caught that one as well. We leaned into each other's grapple with our entire bodies. Her claws dug painfully into the back of my hand, drawing small drops of blood. My shoes squeaked as I slid back a few inches along the hardwood floor, but I found my footing and dug into my stance.

She should have destroyed me at that moment, uncontested in her raw strength compared to my meager body. I was propped up only by Thaumaturgy, keeping me stalwart against the berserk lupine. But being propped up was like being against a brick wall while your assailant continued to pummel you; I wouldn't fall down, but I would still be slammed against a barrier that won't let me withdraw until I was smashed through it.

“I said..." I grunted.

I lost myself to the power inside. Not the power of Thaumaturgy—of being TAGged—but the unbreakable human spirit. The desire for self-preservation boosted with my own anger, like a volatile chemical reaction. The incorporeal supports that kept me standing against the she-wolf released me, but at the same time they no longer held me back from retaliating.

“I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!"

The power struggle shifted in my favor, though only momentarily. A surge of energy gave me room to take a single step forward as I remained locked in Marrowbone's grip. Her elbows bent and her head recoiled at the surprise of my eruption. For a full minute we stood in place, paralyzed by what little I had accomplished over her. Time was sapping my strength and I felt the temporary burst of vigor drain away. Every second was a new opportunity for her to reciprocate and make a counterattack, but the she-wolf didn't take it. She was no longer trying to push me away—she was just holding me in place.

Then, her brow arched. Her upper lip drooped over her fangs and her raised hairs fell flat. A tiny twinkle of moisture crept out of the corner of her eyes. At last, she released her grip on me, showing deep scores from her nails on the backs of my hands. One step at a time Marrowbone backed up, until she retreated to the couch. A spring broke within the cushions as she dropped with her whole weight onto her rear. She put her face in her paws and let out a slow, pitiful moan that dragged out for ages. It was the smallest she ever looked.

“I...hhhrrrmmm...mmm'raid..." she said, her body letting out a shudder.

“What was that?" I said softly.

“I said I'm afraid!"

The TAG's bellowing voice echoed in the living room, rattling the furniture and practically knocking the clocks out of synch. Her words were more disarming than the threat of being torn to shreds by her claws or teeth. Marrow had never willingly backed down from a fight or even shown a glimmer of hesitation or fear during the war. Even when one of the other TAGs challenged her and succeeded, the lupine wouldn't let the grudge go so easily. She never “lost" a battle so much as she delayed the outcome until the day she could have a rematch and come out on top. But this was unlike her. Marrow had admitted defeat, and she openly showed weakness. She sat in silence, face still pressed into her paws. I took a chance and approached her, joining her on the couch and waiting for the she-wolf to go on when she calmed down.

“I never felt afraid before," she said with a hoarse voice. “If we fought a stronger enemy, or we were outnumbered, I'd just fight harder. Dying never scared me. I...."

The TAG winced, as though under physical duress of her confession.

“I was made for dying. I didn't fear it because I w...wanted it. Throwing myself into the fight meant I would die sooner. I'd someday fight something so much stronger than me that I would be obliterated without the chance to feel pain or fear or run away."

The she-wolf prodded her stomach with her claws. Subtle bumps of movement from the child poked out around her nails, riled up by its mother's touch.

“But I lived through it all, and now...now, of all times...I feel af...afraid. Why?"

I slid my fingers under hers, between her leathery paw pad and the thin fur of her belly. I completely forgot about the blood drops that surfaced from her nails, which smeared against her paw hairs as I moved more of my hand under her grip. The she-wolf looked at my injured hand with unease, though it was more out of shame for what she had done than fear of the blood itself.

“I think I can answer that one," I said, ignoring the sting of my wound. “You have a reason to fight for something. There are stakes for dying now and leaving something behind. There's something tying you to this world, right?"

Her ears folded back. I was once again doing a poor job in reassuring her. Choosing one's words for paper is much easier than thinking of the right thing to say in the moment. Any thoughtfulness I made in writing was almost never reflected in my speech. I cleared my throat and made small rubbing circles with my hand to pacify the movement in her belly.

“I won't lie, Marrow, I think the world was afraid of you, and you knew that. You fought because that's all you knew—you really didn't care if you died because this world didn't feel like it was your home...right?"

A soft nod. Progress. I may have been clumsy with my words, but I managed to convey my intent to her.

“But now, this world belongs to humans and TAGs, and little animal people. And, uh, big animal people. You're still here and now you need to make a world for your child to be safe in, right? I can get why you're afraid, but now you have something more personal to keep fighting for. Just...fighting in a different kind of way, you know?"

Marrowbone looked to me with an inquisitive stare. “What about you, then? 'Hollow-Point.' Why did you keep fighting with us?"

It was a question I posed to myself several times a day, every single day the Sin Armadous was storming through the planet. Why are you fighting? Marrow knew her answer because it was instinctive to her. I knew my answer because it was embarrassing and selfish. I ironically had more fear in explaining myself to the she-wolf than I did being in the middle of any given battle during the war. Like her, I think I understood what death meant in the most positive sense: there would be nothing left to fear when it comes for you. What's truly frightening is being alive with those fears for the rest of your existence.

“I suppose I was looking for a reason to fight," I said, rubbing my neck. “When the Sin Armadous started attacking it was a scary time, but it was, well, exciting. I guess I felt similar to how you did, really. It didn't matter if I died, because life was so dull before that, so better to try and be a hero in case we won in the end, right? And we did! But more importantly, I got the taste of what it felt like to be like you—like a TAG."

It was my turn to grimace.

“I...didn't want to lose that. I kept pushing my limits because I deluded myself into thinking you guys needed my help, and if I stopped being useful to you...that would be the end of me. The worst dreams I've ever had as a child were ones where I got to meet my heroes, even the fictional ones, and having them abandon me because I was just...plain old me. I started to have those dreams right after we all broke up, too. Every single day I woke up after the war, I felt stiff and empty. I could feel my Thaumaturgy trying to get away, and that scared me more than the whole world ending. I'm pretty scared of telling people that, too. You're not going to get any sympathy from people who already hate that you have something they won't ever have."

I started scratching my neck until it turned red. All I could do to alleviate the shame was to start laughing at my own immaturity. “So, you're much braver than I am, Marrowbone. I didn't have a good reason for fighting, and I'm an embarrassment to the people who died fighting. The world would be better if we still had people like Amy instead of me."

The she-wolf blew a puff of air from her snout, not looking at me but also not looking explicitly disappointed in me. “We gave each other a reason now. We have to take care of this child. If you're going to be scared of people, then I can't be scared anymore myself. One of us has to be brave. I suppose I'll let you do the worrying for both of us."

There was that Marrowbone mood of hers. She was condescending, usually hypocritically so, but there was a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth that told me she meant no offense. It was genuine, friendly banter. That grin quickly turned into a yawn, and the she-wolf was looking completely spent. Her own energy must have drained as well, no longer needed for the heated tussle we just had.

“I'm going to go rest," she said flatly, wobbling slightly as she rose to her feet. She looked at her vacant spot on the couch, and then to me sitting there. “You don't have to keep sleeping out here. You can have your bed back whenever you want. I can...make some room for you."

“Take it," I said, holding my shaking hands up in submission. “I've gotten used to sleeping out here by now."

Marrowbone didn't seem pleased by my answer, but she nodded with understanding anyway and lumbered her way to the bedroom.

The sun had turned in for the night as well, but the day's turbulence was keeping me restless. I couldn't decide if the verbal spats the lupine TAG and I exchanged were a healthy part of our new relationship or not. I was inclined to think it wasn't, since our fighting almost came to something worse than a few drops of blood, but at the same time we were speaking in a language we both understood. Marrowbone knew fighting, and if I could stand my ground against her test of might, perhaps I was actually doing the right thing in her eyes. Maybe she didn't respect me before—or so I've always imagined she felt about me—because I was the passive, shy one on the team who didn't speak up or butt heads with anyone. Maybe trying to take the “alpha" spot in the household was what she was trying to clue me in on, though I could also be blundering into a role far above my capabilities. Still, I needed to show some semblance of strength. Life was going to get much harder with the child on the way before I could be afforded to have a calmer, safer retirement from fighting and anxiety. The massive disparity in who we were as a couple—from size to species—couldn't have made for tougher obstacles. And yet, I wasn't entirely discouraged from having Marrow as a mate. She was growing on me. Literally, of course, but in more ways than just that fuzzy beachball belly.

I dug out one of the few beers I had squirreled away in the back of the fridge. I mainly went to the Swept Inn to drink, but sometimes my daily routine sapped me of too much energy to make it all the way there, even by scooter. I hadn't had anything to drink since Marrowbone arrived, and I didn't want to drink in front of her knowing how unhealthy it would be for the child if I tempted her, so I stowed my few remaining bottles of beer out of sight until I needed them for a special occasion. Like tonight, for example. I popped the cap off and crept out the door, trying my best not to alert the sleeping she-wolf to my departure.

The nighttime air was perfect, as was the cloudless sky. The faint glow in the horizon from the capital city's ever-present light pollution was like a sunset that refused to go to bed, just like me. I sat on an iron bench in the garden, absorbing the leftover warmth stored up in the metal from the day's sun. In a way, however, the heat felt like an alert not to get too comfortable. It was like the unease of being at someone else's house and having their pet regard you with caution. Everything about the cottage felt this impersonal to me—borrowed—even after living in it for over half a year. My powers were borrowed. My home was borrowed. My whole life felt borrowed. What did I have that felt “mine," that I could take pride in? I closed my real eyes and tried to find the sight granted by my Thaumaturgy. My mind's eye was peering toward the inside of the cottage.

“She truly means well, you know."

I was wrenched out of my meditation. It took me a moment to grasp the voice I heard and realize it came from outside of my subconscious. I was used to voices crowding my mind when I was at the peak of fatigue. But as I shook off the trance I was in and tuned my senses back to reality, I became clear that the voice I just heard wasn't inside my brain, and it was instead sitting beside me on the bench. My head swiveled carefully while my heart raced, and when I saw who my company was I tensed up from head to toe.

“A...A-Amy!?"

Amaryllis Guard, looking no different than the last time I saw her, wearing a familiar smile and kicking her feet wistfully over grass. Her body should have been eternally at peace beside the flower garden, but here she was now. In the nighttime darkness she was positively glowing with light, her beautiful features untouched by injury or her tragic fate. She was immaculately preserved. Perfectly so. Immortally so.

“Are you...?" I breathed, prepared for the worst.

Amy gave me a sadder version of her smile that told me everything I needed to know. The more I stared at her, the more I noticed how intangible she looked.

“It's good to see you still doing well, Hollow, all things considered," she said.

“Y-yeah, you, uh, too...."

Was I having a mental breakdown? Did I nod off on the bench and had already slipped into a dream? I knew very little about lucid dreaming, but I've stumbled into the awareness of being asleep before and tried to bend the dreams to my whim once I knew I had the control. No matter how many times it happened to me, though, I would ruin the golden opportunity in some way or another. What almost always ended the dream prematurely in the past was being overly excited, overloading my mind and heart with exhilaration at having a sandbox I could perfectly control and spoiling everything before I even got started. I tried to keep my enthusiasm reined in as I looked for questions to ask the TAG beside me. However, Amy already had a purpose for confronting me.

“Hollow, listen," she said firmly. Hearing her say my name—the name I had adopted and melded into my identity for the latest chapter of my life—was both honoring and uncomfortable. I questioned whether I was even deserving of being someone with a hero's alias. Amy didn't give me much time to pity myself. “I wanted to apologize for everything that we put you through by dragging you into this new life."

“Apologize to me?" I blurted out. “Amy, I...you're the one who—"

But she simply put a finger to her lips. “That was not your fault. None of you are at fault, and I don't want you to ever feel you need to be guilted about what happened to me. What matters now is the future—your future...with Marrowbone. Please, whatever happens between you two, please don't hate her."

Amy put her hand on top of mine. There was no physical connection, but I felt a warmth nonetheless.

“Marrow wasn't being entirely honest with you earlier. She was afraid during our time as Proto TAGs—I could feel it creeping out of her. She confided in me when we were alone. But her answer to her fears in the past was just to do what she knows best, and it worked for her. Now, her fears can't be solved with what she expects to do; she can't physically fight her way out of her troubles. She's afraid not just because she can't think of an answer, but also because she doesn't know how to ask you for help. I think you already know this, yes?"

The young woman TAG brushed a lock of hair from her face as she commonly did out of habit. It would typically be a constant struggle for her to keep loose strands in check, but this time they floated weightlessly to the side and remained obediently unintrusive.

“I never doubted you were a hero, even before you became Hollow-Point. Everyone has that heroism in them, but not everyone is tested the same way. We Protos were lucky to have a test that was so easy to solve. We knew what we had to do for the sake of humanity, and that was fight a clear enemy. But you...you have a different kind of trial. You don't need to be everyone's hero, Hollow. You need to be Marrowbone's hero. She needs you."

Amy removed her hand, and the warmth left with it. I tried to grasp at her delicate fingers, but mine passed right through.

“But your kind of heroism won't end so soon like ours did," she continued. “People will move on from Risk and Locket and me eventually. Fatherhood is something that you will have to fight for...for the rest of your life. But it will be so much more rewarding than all the fame and fortune we've earned, trust me. Just remember that you and Marrow are still part of the same team, and you'll never have to do this alone. Understood?"

“Yeah...I understand," I said. My voice was raspy. The finality of her words was as clear as her message. I knew what was coming as soon as I answered her. “Thanks, Amy."

The gentle TAG smiled thankfully. A sparkle in the night sky drew my attention as a shooting star sailed overhead. I tracked its flight for only a moment, long enough to distract me from my former teammate's departure. When I looked back to the spot beside me, I was all alone.

I stood up with a tired sigh and dumped the rest of my drink onto the dirt.

I don't know if I would say I was “rested" the next day after receiving Amaryllis' words of encouragement, but the moment my eyes opened I knew I had to get out of bed. Little had changed in the world since the previous day, though my body wouldn't let me be at peace as long as I lounged on the couch. The world actually wouldn't change until I did something about it, and now was the best time to make it happen. There was so much I needed to do to prepare for a life with Marrowbone, but first I needed to make sure she was alright.

For once I beat her to her morning fridge raids, surprising the lupine as I waited casually in the kitchen, cooking up some eggs and bacon for both of us.

“Morning, Marrow," I said. “Did you, ah, sleep alright?"

She raised her brow inquisitively. “Yes?"

“Good, good."

“Hollow," she said, “I...erm...I wanted—"

“Want me to make you anything else for breakfast? I know you like to eat things as-is, but I figured having hot meals more often would probably be better for the kid."

“No, thanks. About yesterday—"

“If you're up for another walk like yesterday, we could try going through the park this time. There's a really serene little trail that would be perfect, especially if we need to take, uh, frequent breaks for sitting in the shade."

“Hmph, sure, fine. Listen—"

“Actually, I heard there's a chance of rain later, so we should probably consider—"

“Would you shut it for a second, pup!? I'm trying to say something!" Marrowbone barked. She glared at me angrily, but her mood immediately softened up. The lupine rubbed her temples vigorously in her paws. “Grrr...well, I wanted to apologize...for yesterday. I got angry at you and...I guess I still can't stop myself when I get that way."

It was the first time I ever saw Marrow show anything close to what I would consider “puppy dog eyes" as she looked at me with heartfelt remorse. Was it more progress for her learning how to act like a human, or did she always possess the capacity for self-reflection and never felt the compulsion to show it before?

“So...I'm sorry," she said. “It was terrible for me to act that way to a teammate."

There was that word again. Amy had planted something in my brain during our talk, and just the mere mention of “teammate" coming from the she-wolf replayed her entire speech to me again in my mind. But the meaning behind the word was different when Amy said it compared to her wolf friend, and I suspected the “true" meaning was part of the test she said I was going to be taking. We weren't “teammates" in the Proto TAG sense anymore.

I walked up to Marrowbone and gently placed my hand on her belly. The subtle swish of her tail didn't go unnoticed.

“I'm sorry, too, for yelling back at you like that," I said. “We're always going to be teammates, Marrow, but we have a different kind of fight ahead of us this time, yeah? I think we can figure it out if we work together, right?"

“I suppose I can let you help," she huffed. “Just make sure you don't overdo yourself. If you plan to help, I expect you to do your part even if you end up a broken heap on the floor, so don't push yourself too hard. I'm not taking care of two helpless pups."

“H-hah, yeah, alright," I said with a chuckle. “Yeah...two pups would be a pain...."

I felt an odd twitch skitter down my spine.

Marrowbone inhaled her breakfast and patiently waited for me to eat mine. Once we were finished, we headed out into town and prepared our hike in the park. The weather was beautiful, but the encroaching clouds indeed gave a warning of the rain that would eventually arrive. An early walk through the park could be done if we hustled, and fortunately we both seemed to have the energy for it. Marrow in particular carried her cumbersome weight pretty well, as her long legs kept an amazing pace and forced me to jog at times to keep up. The threat of rain kept most of the townspeople close to home, and so we had the woods almost entirely to ourselves.

I could still taste my breakfast by the time we sat down for our first rest, but Marrow was already digging through her snack bag for a pick-me-up. She froze in a wide-opened-maw expression at my amusement, then let out a throaty growl as if daring me to mock her. Or she could have been daring me to try and take her snacks, judging from the way she scooted away to eat in privacy. With her massive stomach, though, it was a very lopsided, wobbly scoot. A lifetime of worrying about finding dinner made it difficult for her to get used to the idea of having food so commonly available, and she guarded her “prey" intensely. After some playful groveling I was eventually graced with leftover jerky, as if I were the family pet given some table scraps to appease my begging. I had to scarf my own share down quickly, as the she-wolf looked ready to take her charity back if I hesitated too long.

“You're so slow," Marrowbone snorted.

“Hey, I almost beat you that time with the steak bowls," I said.

“Not even if you had my stomach."

“I'm ready for a rematch anytime you want!"

“Hah! I'll even use a fork to give you a fair chance! Now, are you done yet or do you need help chewing, too?"

The banter carried over to the next several breaks we took, punctuating every quarter hour and sometimes sooner when a well-worn spot of grass looked inviting. The walking became jogging as we raced to the next respite, followed by a contest to finish our snacks the fastest. We quickly ate through our stash as a result, and by the time we arrived at our final resting spot by a babbling brook we had nothing left for our mouths except tired silence. We took turns looking over at one another and pretending to ignore the other's sideways glances. When we didn't have an excuse to toss friendly barbs at each other, things became uncomfortable. However, it was the type of uncomfortableness that made me think of a first date.

“Hey, Marrow—"

“Yeah, what!?" the she-wolf said, eagerly expecting conversation.

“I, uh, was just curious...about the baby. And...you know, uh, the name? You have any names in mind yet?"

The lupine lifted her muzzle up, as if in a sign of dignity. Her hesitation to answer, though, betrayed her confidence.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I've been thinking of some options. I'm prepared for either a son or daughter."

“Alright, terrific."

Silence.

“So, what are they?"

“I was getting to that!"

She puffed out her chest defiantly, but the she-wolf deflated just as quickly. This was an important matter for her.

“If it's a girl, I was thinking we should name her after Amaryllis."

I lifted an eyebrow. “After Amy?"

“Is that a problem?"

“N-no! No, it's a great name, obviously. Very cute."

“She's the reason we have a home to share, someplace peaceful for the child to grow up in. I think it would do her memory justice if we named our daughter in her honor."

“Well, I like it! I'm sure Amy would be so grateful if she got to hear you say that."

Marrowbone kept her muzzle aloft stoically, but her tail swept over the grass to signal her pride.

“And if it's a boy?" I said.

The TAG turned to look directly at me. There was an authentic spark in her golden orbs. Was she expecting me to find the answer somewhere in her eyes? Now we were in a contest not to blink, one that felt like it lasted longer than the entire hike we had taken.

“If it's a boy...then I want him to be Hollow."

I lost the staring content. I merely pointed to my chest in confusion.

“Me? My name? Uh, Marrow, I mean, it's technically not...."

“I know it's not your birth name," she snapped. “But regardless if you decide to keep it forever or someday hang it up like your gun, I want our son to carry on in his father's footsteps. The legacy of a fighter. He's going to have to face a world that might not be ready for him, so he deserves to have a name he can be proud of. And I'm not naming him after Pagron!"

“Or Quested, huh?"

Marrowbone bristled at my joke, but she grinned when she realized I wasn't being serious. “Well? Are you going to be a man that he can look up to?"

Her words pulled at my heart, catching me completely off guard. For months I fought against a selfish, nagging wish to someday have a bit of the legacy that Risk or the others would carry with them forever. I thought having the adoration of people across the world would be an invaluable treasure. Suddenly, those lofty wishes felt insignificant. On the other hand, the prospect of having a child named after you—a child you had a part in creating in the first place—filled that desire for renown and then some. One cherished life held much more importance than the opinion of countless, faceless strangers. Even if we ended up without a son when the day came, Marrow's offer alone filled me with dignity.

I gave the she-wolf a thumbs-up in affirmation. “I'll be a man our son or daughter can look up to. I promise."

“Careful what you say," Marrow snorted again. “Our daughter might be named after Amaryllis, but she'd be taking after me as a warrior, and I know you don't have the strength to handle both of us at once."

“Can we try again for a boy if that happens?" I joked. “I'll need all the backup I can get against you two."

The TAG recoiled. She took my words sincerely. At first I thought she would lash out in anger at the stupidity of the joke, but there were gears turning behind her eyes as she thought more about the future than perhaps she ever had done before.

“Maybe someday," she grumbled, avoiding my gaze.

The rain clouds rolled in quickly, spurring us to finish our walk and head home. I was planning to do some more yardwork as long as the sun stood its ground, but the rest of the afternoon would have to be spent locked up indoors. I resigned to cleaning up around the cottage while Marrowbone hovered nearby. Even when I moved just a few steps to reach a new spot to tidy up, the she-wolf repositioned herself to follow me.

“You can rest and take it easy," I offered, motioning to the couch.

Marrow didn't respond, nor did she take my suggestion.

The rain grew heavier, making a constant pattering on the roof that was oddly soothing. We were still only a short walk away from the rest of town, but it felt as though we were isolated in the woods, camping far from civilization. The wilderness suited the she-wolf, even though she looked noticeably different than the feral wolves that used to live in the forests. I imagined her in a nature documentary, wearing something much more primitive and earthlier than her leathery armor and modern clothes from the war. Reclining in a wooded clearing, but still with her motherly swell. Something about the image stirred a feeling within me that I wasn't expecting. I felt much hotter.

“Whew, I think I'm going to have to take a shower of my own," I said, motioning to the rain outside. “Worked up a sweat today on the hike."

“Is it necessary?" Marrow replied.

“What do you mean?"

“You smell different with a bit of sweat. It suits you better."

The feeling stirred again, flustering me. I was at a loss how to respond to her and keep my composure at the same time. “A...alright, then."

Her eyes tracked me throughout the cottage. I could feel them piercing through the back of my head when I looked away. There was a distant rumble of thunder that sounded like the she-wolf's throaty growl for attention. Or, maybe it was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears as the cottage rapidly climbed in temperature. I glanced over at the sitting lupine, and that's when she made her move.

“Do I repulse you?"

“W-what!?" I blurted out. “No! Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Marrow shifted to her side with a paw on her belly, as if trying to move the obstruction out of the way and forgetting it was attached to her. She drummed her fingers on the mound as she spoke.

“That night at the Inn, you weren't yourself. Neither of us were acting right. We went to the bedroom and mated together before we knew what we were doing. You...we even forgot about the night until much later."

“Yeah, I suppose we did..." I said.

The she-wolf's eyes narrowed. “We never had that kind of intimacy before. We didn't have any kind of friendship before the night we drank. We rarely spoke, and you avoided looking at me. But I saw the way you looked at Amaryllis and Locket, and other human girls. Any of them would have been an ideal mate for you, wouldn't they?"

I felt defensive again, just as I had been during our previous fight. There was truth to what Marrow said, but at the same time I saw a different “Hollow-Point" in those memories on the team. That was a Hollow-Point from less than a year ago, yes, but one who wasn't yet a father-to-be. One who still chased the dream of being even a fraction as popular as Risk was. One who didn't know if he would live through the war or what he would do with his life if he did. In a way, that older Hollow-Point did die, and who I was in that moment speaking with Marrowbone was someone else entirely.

The she-wolf stood back up. “I'm not human," she said as though the statement was some new revelation to be blown away by. “There is nothing like me out there as far as I know. I can't blame you for seeing me as a monster. I can understand if the memory of mating with me disgusts you."

“Are you still going on about that?" I said back. Marrow was disarmed by my forwardness. “It sounds like you're trying to get off the hook of being around me. Do I repulse you?"

“No," the she-wolf grumbled. “Don't turn this back on me!"

“I wasn't the ideal mate for you back then, was I?"

Her face contorted in frustration. Now it was the TAG who felt like she was unfairly on the defensive.

“You could be a lot worse of a mate," she said with a huff.

“But we're still sharing the same roof, even after we laid out our differences, and we've both agreed to take care of the child. Look, Marrow, I care enough about you to not lie about this; I don't know if I really had strong feelings for you while we were teammates. But...I feel like I've gotten to know you a lot more now that we have to deal with this situation of ours. And, being perfectly honest here, I think you're...well, starting to grow on me."

“What do you mean grow?" she snarled.

I laughed at her confusion, but rather than taking offense to my statement she slowly began to understand. I was getting through to the lupine that her brusqueness was something I actually found endearing now, rather than intimidating. She still had a profound innocence about understanding certain human expressions and customs, but she developed a great deal of knowledge even from when I first met her. And I would be lying if I said my feelings towards her hadn't been developing as well. The longer we talked—the longer I had her in my sight—the more I had strange feelings percolate for the TAG. We shouldn't have been compatible when it came to attraction for one another, let alone reproduction, but it was as if we were changing deep inside ourselves to make that incompatibility work, little by little. Was it the same Thaumaturgical magic that gave us our powers, or were our immensely contrasting qualities naturally mixing just the right way? Opposites attract, and all that.

I walked over to Marrow and placed my hand on her belly. When she set a paw over my hand, I sandwiched her paw with my other hand, gently rubbing it. The lupine scoffed and finished the stack with her remaining paw.

“Still trying to be top dog?" she snickered, squeezing my hands until I winced. “Fine. Try all you want. I don't want to have my child see their father being a weak thing."

“Name your challenge," I said. “Anything you want me to do to prove my strength, and I'll do it for you."

Marrowbone opened her muzzle to speak, but it was some time before she came up with a response.

“Forget it. You don't need to prove your strength to me. I'll judge that for myself when I feel like it. But, there is...."

“Yes?"

“There's something I want to do tonight. It'll help me make up my mind on how I feel about us."

I cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?"

“Just...come to the bedroom later. I want you to use the bed tonight, and not the couch. Just do this for me."

“Alright, alright, sure."

“And don't shower beforehand."

“Whatever you say."

It was already getting late by the time we finished our conversation, but Marrowbone roamed around the cottage aimlessly until “the right time" for bed. I didn't dare complain about the couch after all the days I'd spent trying to be the gentleman and letting the she-wolf use the bed, but I was secretly relieved to finally have a firm mattress to sleep on again. I lay on my back for a while, dressed down to comfortable nighttime clothes while I listened to Marrow prowl about the cottage. Was she trying to make a wolf den out of the living room? I felt guilty about the thought of her sleeping on the couch, or even the floor, but every few minutes she barked a command from the other room not to leave my spot.

“Do you need help with something?" I called back.

“No! Just stay there. I'm coming." Her heavy footsteps heralded her arrival. I heard her enter and then stop in silence. I could feel the tenseness squeezed into the bedroom with her. Carefully, I lifted my head up and looked to the she-wolf.

Marrowbone had stripped herself completely of any armor or clothes, standing boldly by the door. There was no denying that she had changed since the “Swept Inn-cident" (as I've started calling it), with the telltale markings of motherhood being the greatest culprit. Despite my hazy memory of the lupine from our first mating, I retained enough of an image of her nude physique to compare to the TAG that was in the room with me now. Her pelt looked fuller, as did the thickness of her limbs in certain areas. She still possessed a great deal of muscle, but the definition was softened by the padding of countless fridge raids to nourish the child. Her torso used to be a hybrid of feral body structure and feminine curvature, but now the swell of her breasts gave her an unmistakable womanly shape. I won't linger on the minutia of her feminine features out of both respect and fear for her, but I have to note that the “swell" of some aspects of her was so great that even the heavier volume of her furry hide no longer fully covered up her more private zones, which once made her look like a censored stuffed toy as I had previously joked about. No, her womanhood was unavoidably pronounced in both her chest and in the crevasse of where her plentiful thighs pressed together. She was ready to rear a child in the near future, but she was also ready for something else a little sooner than that.

Marrowbone fidgeted in place, trying miserably to mimic her idea of what a human woman would do to seduce a mate, while trying to cradle the heft of her gravid stomach and engorged breasts. Her belly continued to look bigger and shapelier than the last time I examined it closely. The she-wolf rumbled in her throat, though I suspected it had less to do with her attempt at seduction and more to do with her growing impatience.

“Well!?" she said

“Well...what?" I said, distracted by the strange feelings that resurfaced on cue.

“I want to try something!"

“Yeah, you said that earlier, but—"

“I want to try that night again! You're not drunk, and I'm not drunk either. If you're not lying about not being repulsed by me, then...I want you to prove it!"

She wasn't drunk, as she clearly said, but the she-wolf was making even less sense to me than the night her belly was only filled with steak and alcohol. Of course, I'm sure I'm opening myself up to ridicule from my readers for missing obvious romantic cues. I'm far from the Casanova that Risk was. But the truth was Marrow and I both lacked the beer goggles that had played a part in getting us to throw ourselves at each other without inhibition, and now the she-wolf sounded as if we were obligated to replicate that night with the same level of foggy fervor and absence of care. She wanted to force something that was, by all definitions, an accident.

“Marrow, you don't have to—"

“You hate me!" she growled.

“No, that's not fair! Look, we don't need to prove—"

“You hate me..." she said again, this time softer and with folded ears.

“Marrow, listen! We can't force this to work until we're ready! I don't want you to think you have to try and win my heart if you don't have the passion for it yet."

“But I have passion for you," she mumbled.

“...You...you do?"

Her ears perked back up and she grabbed the foot of the bed in a death grip. Déjà vu from the Swept Inn set in. The she-wolf hoisted herself onto the bed in a crawling position, with her belly hanging much lower than the last time and tickling my legs with her fur. The bed protested with her added weight, and I vowed to begin shopping for a new one as soon as possible.

“H-hold on, let me take my glasses off first!" I said, reaching for my face.

With keen dexterity, she lunged forward and snatched my glasses with her fangs, then flung them out of the room. To my surprise, my eyesight didn't worsen any. My TAGged Thaumaturgy was kicking in right in the nick of time. Marrowbone's now empty muzzle busied itself by nipping at my shoulders and neck. Her pendulous chest, meanwhile, was swaying invitingly within my gasp. I took the lure and caressed what I could fit into my palms. The alien moans Marrowbone made in response seemed like a sign of approval, but my reciprocation also told the TAG that she was ready to move on with rougher foreplay.

“A-ah, biting, biting!" I sputtered.

She dropped her rump on my legs, with the beachball of her belly nestled between us, forcing her to arch herself over the mass just to keep snacking on my neck. I urged my inner TAG to pick up the slack now that my drunken strength from the night at the Inn was absent. The lupine's added weight was already enough of an obstacle, and now I had to deal with the clarity of knowing what my limitations were. Drunk and TAGged Hollow didn't care about what a small guy he was compared to Marrowbone, which made him do crazy, courageous things. Now, I was cursed to know my sober efforts probably wouldn't be enough to satisfy the lustful creature that could still kill me without hesitation. I needed that crutch of Thaumaturgy to get me through this. But an inner voice serving as the secretary for that plea of strength refused my request. No, it seemed to say, you need to draw on that power yourself.

I gave back what Marrowbone served to me. While she scored my skin with teeth marks, I tried to bury my head in her neck fluff and nip at her muzzle. She flailed out of my reach, but not out of displeasure; she wanted to be the dominant one, and she wasn't going to let me use her own tricks against her. I shifted my methods to trying to pin her on her back again, as I had successfully done in the past, but the she-wolf already learned my strategies and remained immovable. So, I made growls and grunts of my own, summoning up a feral energy to imitate hers. The effort was met with amused chuckles, and my raw power still wasn't adequate enough to overthrow her. What worked in the end, however, was the light brush of a certain bodily appendage against an unguarded spot of her own body.

Her biting slowed and she pulled her head back, still salivating from her assault on my skin. There was a knowing, hungry look in her eyes. “So, you aren't repulsed by me after all."

“Told you so," I panted. I held her cheek with one hand and rubbed her belly with the other. “But we're still going to have to take it slow. For the baby, alright?"

Marrow growled in resignation. “Already a little nuisance, this one. Fine. But when it's out of me, you can't use that excuse anymore."

A worrying image of us mating on the bed with the floor completely covered with infants flashed through my mind. Another part of me twitched in troubling anticipation. How soon would we see protection strong enough for TAGs at the drug store? Another thing to add to the shopping list for the very next day.

And so, the lovemaking began. Once again, I must apologize to my readers about the coyness in describing the graphic details of the unforgettable night that unfolded. While the uncensored scenes are exclusive to the memories Marrow and I share together, I'm sure I can get away with highlighting the key points for the sake of explaining our growing relationship for one another. Our first attempt at a sexual act was the same position Marrow had me pinned in, with my vision largely obscured by the furry globe that was repeatedly slammed against my chest. It gave my hands plenty of she-wolf to rub and hold, but my ribs were suffering just as much as the mattress springs. The bed creaked dangerously, with the she-wolf trying to straddle the sides with her massive legs and plant her feet on the floor for support. The snarls she made was an indication that we'd have to change to something else.

“Maybe we should try dog—uhh...with you on all fours?" I said sheepishly.

A growl of reluctance, but Marrow humored the suggestion for a short while as we repositioned ourselves on the bed. The stress on the frame and supports was lessened with a lower amount of bouncing, but the wild swinging of her tail posed a new problem. It smacked me in the face several times while her rump nearly shoved me off the bed with the force of her backwards thrusts. Grabbing the base of her tail triggering more noises that were indiscernible between pleasure and disapproval. There was a dangerous cracking sound at the headboard of the bedframe from Marrow's iron grip. The she-wolf dug her snout into the pillows and started to rip holes in them, a sign we need to abandon our formation in favor of a new one.

“Grrr, I want to see you!" she snarled through a mouthful of feathers. “Not...ghhack...the wall!"

Again and again we twisted in new ways, searching for the perfect mix of comfort and pleasure that could accommodate our vastly different body shapes and sizes. My fear of disappointing Marrow motivated my efforts, while the eroticism of the scene kept my stamina fueled. Whether I was assisted by Thaumaturgy or not, my body was guided by carnal desire and a building attraction towards the lupine TAG. Had I been with a human woman, I might have finished the deed ages sooner, but the delay in gratification was like the steady solving of a complex puzzle; when I finally found the perfect way to satisfy the large she-wolf, it would be worth the long effort. But I was still a human and a male, and so I was admittedly oblivious at times to what was occurring in the mind of my nighttime partner.

Marrow had been enjoying herself far more than I expected. While I floundered around looking for the solution to the puzzle, Marrowbone had already solved it. Two, three times, maybe? There's a limit to how bold I would want to be in overstating my own abilities, but there was definite feedback from the she-wolf. Her initial growls and grunts wavered the longer we went at it, and soon she was slipping in little whines and howls of bliss. In the time it took me to cross that finish line just once in my own race, Marrow had run a whole marathon. I had been given a handicap of sorts; my lack of experience with wolf-person anatomy was probably on par with her lack of expertise with human anatomy, but she had a certain “need" to be quenched that made her more lenient in demanding excellency. It was perhaps why she had been so temperamental in the past few days. Much like her poor alcohol tolerance, the TAG's massive size didn't translate to her being a massive challenge to indulge.

I panted heavily when I finished, personally proud of the effort I had given. Marrow didn't say anything, her own chest heaving with fatigue. She wrapped me in her arms and pulled me in tightly, until I was smothered by her furry pelt and nestled in the curves of her body. I could feel her heartbeat in her breasts and the heat of her belly. Her affectionate nuzzling wicked the sweat from my glistening skin, and I was completely immobilized in her embrace. The wild smell of nature filled my nostrils, as though we were lying amongst a bed of leaves in a thick grove of pine trees. No sounds escaped my mouth as I tried to make some parting words before I succumbed to sleep. I could only thank the heavens that I managed to keep my memories of that night intact compared to those from the Swept Inn, and that when I woke up the following morning I would remember all of it.

[[PART 5: The New Lives]]

The deadliest battle I fought in during the war drew out a level of TAG Thaumaturgy unlike any I had experienced up to that point. It was when I stood against a rival Sin Armadous TAG, albeit one who was low-ranking and weakened from a previous fight. The fear of death and letting down my teammates allowed me to tap into my latent reservoir of power, and it was an exhilarating feeling. But the energy I was granted to stave off the threat of death and failing my mission didn't match anywhere close to the same feeling as when I woke up with Marrowbone the next morning. I needed some of that extra energy to wiggle myself out of her crushing embrace after several hours of sleeping in later than what we were used to. We could have slept together through the whole day, but there were things to do (and bigger beds to shop for). I could still feel the energy in my body as I strolled around the cottage, completely at ease yet overflowing with vigor. I felt like a new man.

Marrow seemed to share the sentiment. She didn't say anything for a while at first, but the perpetual expression of irritation she often wore back in our war days was nowhere to be found, much like her clothes for most of the morning. Her footsteps weren't lumbering and thunderous either, but she instead padded around the cottage with a surprising grace and tenderness. She no longer looked out of place in Amy's small cottage, as if crammed into a space never meant to hold her size even before her pregnancy. Now she looked comfortably at home. It was if the house was a shrine built to honor the legendary creature it surrounded, not a cage meant to contain her. Sadly, the amount of space available to move around without hindrance would soon feel more restrictive once the baby arrived.

Marrow continued to follow me around from room to room. When she passed by close enough, I could see her nostrils flare as she sniffed the air. The face she made was like someone enjoying the aroma of a scented candle.

“I'm probably going to have to shower now before I go into town," I chuckled. I wasn't worried so much about human senses of smell, but the other animal people around town now had the gift of gossip along with their excellent sniffers.

“Then we'll walk again later," Marrow said matter-of-factly, “so you're prepared again for tonight."

If the she-wolf wasn't going to kill me out of anger anymore, she would definitely do me in from draining my spirits dry. There was a good chance I wouldn't live to see the child born if this became a nightly trial.

“So, you had a good night?" I said. Even if my body was still recovering, the boost of confidence helped my rejuvenation.

Marrow responded with a sly grin and a wag of the tail. Her face twisted into a pained expression as she let out a grunt, clutching her belly.

“What's wrong?"

“Nnah, nothing...yet," she grumbled. “But it's coming soon."

“Maybe we should take it easy until you're ready."

“Are you afraid your strength won't hold out for a second night?"

“Yeaaah, a little bit. But I'm more afraid about the baby popping out and catching us off guard."

Marrow chuckled dryly. “That would be fine with me. The sooner, the better."

The baby's impending birth didn't slow the great Marrowbone down at all, nor did it diminish her stubbornness. On the contrary, she was much more active after the night of mating, as though her doubts and insecurities had been brushed aside with that one hot-blooded night. If my humble attempts indeed had that much of an impact on the she-wolf's attitude, then my own self-esteem would be bolstered after seeing the positive results. I was just thankful that her pregnancies weren't cumulative, adding a new hungry mouth with each night of mating we did. How long would it be after the baby's birth before she would insist on having another?

A few days passed, with Marrow holding up like the warrior she was despite an increasing number of contractions. My own body, meanwhile, was accumulating numerous scratch marks and bruises from our nightly ritual lovemaking. The she-wolf's heightened hormones and fecundity made her satisfaction relatively uncomplicated, and I was slowly improving on how best to adapt my techniques to our different body types. Best of all, the novelty of our relationship didn't wear off, not that I expected romancing what was essentially a demigod in the flesh (and fur) to lose its appeal so soon. I could have very well been as perfect of a partner in her eyes as another lupine TAG might have been, and her longing gaze never strayed to other men when we went out in public. She only paid attention to females who passed us—human and animal alike—and only to flash them a warning look of, “He's already taken."

Marrowbone's presence in Claybank didn't seem to lose its novelty yet either. Despite many townsfolk keeping a wide berth when they saw us approach, their lively gossiping seemed to have changed from apprehension to anticipation. They weren't ready to risk their lives approaching the lupine to talk to her, but they were excited to see what kind of child she would produce. Of course, there were still some growing rumors about my role in everything; neither of us were rarely ever seen without the other, and very few onlookers seemed to accept the excuse that I was merely the TAG's personal bodyguard. They would undoubtedly learn the truth in due time.

The future was no less hazy than it was the day she almost broke down my door, but the she-wolf TAG was more prepared to face whatever was thrown our way, provided we were always together as teammates. Even our friends who weren't there in Claybank with us—either because of distance or the harshness of mortality—seemed to be rallying behind us with their support. The only way the paparazzi was able to get Risk or Locket to speak on camera for just a brief moment was to mention Marrowbone's pregnancy, and they were both visibly excited for the mother-to-be. Then, Locket would chase the nosy reporters off with clenched fists. The Proto TAGs definitely wouldn't be disbanding anytime soon; if anything, they would be adding to their ranks any day now.

The one who had arguably helped Marrow and I the most in our turbulence, even while postmortem, deserved the greatest amount of thanks. Amaryllis Guard would live on in the gracious charity of her cottage, and maybe even our hypothetical daughter. Her words on the night of her spiritual visit—if I hadn't just dreamed it all up— would continue to stick with me through my whole life. I hadn't seen her again any of the following nights when I wandered outside in the garden for some fresh air, but I knew she was still watching over us. I would take care of her cottage and make sure her legacy as a hero was never understated.

Marrowbone and I were out in the garden one warm afternoon, doing our part to keep that legacy thriving. Amy loved her flowers, and it took careful work to maintain the delicate blooms. We also expanded the garden plot to make room for some additions of our own, specifically some vegetable crops. The amount of food Marrow ate through was already daunting, and having another mouth to feed meant supplying our own produce would be a helpful boon. No veggies excited Marrow nearly as much as meat did, but she helped out the farming for Amy's sake. Me being outside where the warm air drew moisture from my pores may have also motivated her to leave her “den."

The fair weather was a frequent distraction, and we took many breaks simply sitting in the garden and gazing at each other over the flowers. Long after the yardwork was finished, we continued enjoying the lazy afternoon in peace. I knew the physical labor wouldn't be enough exercise for the lupine—or rather, for me working up enough sweat for her—and so we had planned to take a walk around town anyway before the sun set. Marrow's quietness worried me that she was more tired than she let on, however.

“You holding up over there?" I asked, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun.

“Nngghh," she grunted back.

“Doesn't sound like it. You going to be alright for later?"

No response.

“Marrow?"

My sight adjusted to the blinding rays as I looked over at the lupine. She was hunched over at the edge of the garden, clutching her stomach intensely.

“H-ha...Hollow," she rumbled, “it's...nngghhaahh."

I launched to my feet and scrambled over to the she-wolf. The time had come. I cursed myself for not preparing some speedy way to get her to the clinic. It was so close in town comparatively speaking, but it would be too much of a trek to do by foot, and the scooter wouldn't handle Marrow even if she were by herself. The she-wolf stumbled upright, using my body for support. We'd have to make an attempt to walk there while I called the clinic to send someone over.

Not far down the street, a mailman was making the last of his deliveries. I moved Marrow over to the garden bench and then sprinted toward the package van, whistling for its attention. A gruff older human fellow behind the wheel peered out at me while a young beast-person horse—making his way back to the vehicle after dropping off a package—looked ready to bolt in fear of my sudden approach until he saw me clearer.

“O-oh, hi there, Mr. Hollow-Point!" he said, still a little jumpy. The man behind the wheel softened up as well, giving me a wave and a muffled greeting from behind the glass.

I babbled a quick explanation of Marrow's condition and pleaded for their help. The two looked to each other and nodded. They followed me back to the garden, where the she-wolf was breathing heavily and trying to keep herself together. I could see the look of resentment in her eyes, but she was unable to protest much in her current state.

“Hate vehicles," she snarled as I helped her to the back of the mail van.

“Didn't think we'd be making this kind of delivery today! Hoo-boy!" the gruff driver said with a laugh.

“What? O-o-oh, yeah!" the horse boy said. “Big. Big, package."

Marrow was hanging on to the belts for securing boxes as we bounced and swayed down to the clinic. I made a hurried phone call to warn them of our arrival, and I could practically hear the nurses scrambling in the background as I gave them the heads-up. The phone was slapped out of my hand as the she-wolf flailed her paw around, searching for a piece of me to grasp tightly. She growled deeply in pain as she clung to my arm.

“Gonna be alright," I said, quickly losing feeling in that side of my body from the constriction. I fanned her with someone's sturdy envelope sitting nearby. The town felt far bigger streaking through it by vehicle than it ever did getting around by foot, but after a few excruciating minutes we were deposited at the clinic front door with a waiting team of nurses. They had strapped two gurneys together to make a big enough transport for the massive lupine.

“Oh, dear lord, two might not be enough," I overheard one of them say as the mailmen helped evacuate Marrow.

The congregation of nurses—human and animal—swarmed around the she-wolf as she was rolled inside the building. I was quickly shunted to the back of the mass as the quicker ones strode in front of me to take their positions. I did my best to follow them, but I lagged too far behind. Even the delivery room couldn't contain all of those who gathered to handle the TAG, and I was soon left out in the waiting room with several other stragglers who hung around on standby.

“She's in good hands, Mr. Point," one of the doe nurses said, sensing my frustration at not being able to get inside.

I was led to a chair and offered a myriad of distractions—magazines, snacks, a child's toy—to ease my stress while I listened to the she-wolf howling from the other side of the walls. I tried meditating, first to calm my nerves and then to see if I could tap into my TAGged nature to find some kind of Thaumaturgical clairvoyance for observing Marrow's progress. Unfortunately, my powers were only limited to marksmanship and she-wolf pleasuring. The racing of my heart and the yells of the creature nearby disturbed my concentration too much anyway. I felt like Marrow must have felt when she was most afraid: capable of doing so much but having none of the abilities to handle the situation at hand. Being so powerful but also so powerless in that one moment that could change everything.

The animal nurses stood around like room decoration while their human mentors slowly left to give assistance elsewhere. Either these beast people still didn't have a total understanding of human behavior, or they had much more understanding than I gave them credit for. It irked me that they couldn't see how much I was worrying about Marrow and the safety of her child, but then I started to wonder if I was underestimating them. Their passiveness could have been because they knew everything would be alright in the end. Animals didn't need doctors or hospitals to give birth in the wild—that was all thanks to their instincts. Hopefully Marrow had those same maternal instincts as well. Maybe when they started walking on two legs and adopting human tongues, they still retained the comprehension of what to do when a newborn was on the way? Differences in biology aside, it started to make sense why so many of them were employed at the clinic now. Give them a few more years, and we will see some amazing things from these TAG-grown animal people.

But—and I mean no offense to any of them—I don't think I'm quite ready yet to receive a physical checkup from something with hooves or claws, let alone have them approach me with a syringe.

The minutes crawled by while the nurses around me remained frozen in waiting. The sounds coming from the delivery room were loud and indecipherable. I hated hearing Marrow cry out under duress, but any noise from her at all gave me a moment's peace that she was still fighting. Then, the noises changed, along with the commotion of the doctors and nurses inside the room. I could faintly hear something different, something higher pitched. As I focused on what the new sound was, the door flung open and startled me. My spooked reaction in turn startled all the lingering animals.

“Good news!" said a sheep nurse, whose wooly coat poking through her scrubs was covered in some rather unfortunate traces of the messy scene inside, like a soiled ball of cotton or gauze. “It's a girl!"

Excited chatter broke out in the waiting room as the nurses cheered on new arrival. But me, I was speechless. A daughter. I never imagined things would turn out this way. Just a few short weeks ago I was alone and wondering where my life would take me after the route of a war hero had reached its end. But now I had a family of my own, with a brand-new baby girl—a little Amaryllis to serve as a reminder of our world after the fighting. I couldn't wait to see what she would grow up into.

The commotion from the delivery room hadn't died down any with Little Amy's birth, nor did Marrow's howling subside any. The sheep nurse was beckoned back inside urgently.

“Oh, please excuse me!" she said before closing the door behind her.

Something wasn't right. Tension was wafting out of the delivery room, and it was infecting the waiting room. I felt even worse than I had moments earlier. What was wrong? Did something happen with my daughter? With Marrow? Minutes dragged by, with no update or change in atmosphere from the delivery room. For all the discussion of strengths and fears I had with Marrowbone and human Amy's spirit, I couldn't help let my mind wander to terrified thoughts. The gift of fatherhood could slip from my fingers just as quickly as my fleeting amount of fame had. What if losing fatherhood was the true test all along?

I was pacing around the waiting room with my eyes on the door. The animal people around me backed up to the walls, giving me ample space to devolve into a nervous wreck. I couldn't glean their feelings on the situation, whether they already knew the worst had come to pass or that they felt everything was still fine. The chatter in the next room changed, and suddenly I could no longer hear Marrow's pained noises. Hushed voices seeped out, inaudible and troubling. Then, the door flew open, and my startled jump once again caused all the lingering animals to leap in the same way. It was the sheep nurse, even messier than before.

“Good news! There's also a boy!"

My legs gave out. The nurses rushed to my side to keep me supported as I struggled to stay on my feet. Twins. A baby girl and a baby boy to take on my name. I reached for the open door and was walked over to it with the nurses keeping me propped up. The hushed voices from inside weren't because of solemn sorrow, as I'd feared, but out of respect for the tired she-wolf lying on the doubled-up beds with two swaddled pups in her arms. Her fur was matted and wet from the cool, soggy cloths dabbing her face. One eye was shut while the other was half open, fighting off fatigue as much as she could. The lupine gave a proud smile when she saw me enter.

“You're in trouble," she said with a weak chuckle. “They're much stronger than I think you can handle."

The feeling in my legs returned as a fresh dose of adrenaline gave me the strength to greet my new children. They were both unsurprisingly puppy-like, but their tiny paw-padded hands had digits more like the fingers of their humanoid-wolf hybrid mother than a regular canine. Hollow Jr. had a fur pattern almost exactly like Marrowbone, with large ink blots of tan-gray against an off-white hide, but darker fur on his limbs rather than the bloodstained markings of his mother. Little Amy, on the other hand, not only lacked the spots over her hide, but her undercoat of reddish fur bled through the upper white layer, giving her whole pelt a pinkish hue much like the flower of her namesake. Both of the pups' eyes were closed while they cooed and cried in Marrowbone's arms, and I couldn't wait to see them looking back at me.

The doctors wanted to keep Marrow overnight to monitor the newborns. These weren't just everyday babies, after all. The first TAG offspring, especially ones born from two vastly different parents, no doubt threw their standard delivery protocols for a loop. Not to mention the ruckus caused by the event was already spilling out to the rest of the town, and it would be safer to remain barricaded in the clinic than take a chance with the gathering crowds outside. I could tell the lupine mother detested the idea of staying away from home, but she softened her demeanor when I leaned in to stroke her head.

“I'll be right here tonight," I whispered to her.

Amaryllis Guard's home doubled in occupants the very next day. The clinic “allowed" Mother TAG Marrowbone to assert her judgement in leaving immediately with the newborns, but they persuaded her to allow periodic nurse visits for occasional checkups and study. The bustling of new visitors drew the attention of the media as well, who summoned up enough bravery to risk interviews with whoever they could, now that the lupine TAG was momentarily indisposed with her babies. Thankfully, the clinic help was just as protective as the she-wolf was, and they helped repel nosy reporters when they got too close to the cottage. But when I ventured outdoors to run a quick errand or tend to the garden, I had to defend myself from the piranhas that swarmed in. I was finally receiving the attention I once thought I wanted, but the intrusion of the paparazzi disgusted me and served as a reminder why I gave up on that shallow wish.

They tried to use me as a source of information about Marrow; questions ranged from the typical, “How are the kids doing?" to the tiresome concerns of, “How afraid is she in bringing new life to a world that is wary of her?"

“We're doing fine, and, no, we're not afraid of what the world thinks," I said firmly.

Whether from their own coyness or my underestimation of how stupid the new generation of journalists really were, they didn't seem to pick up on the context of my answer and instead danced around their follow-up questions.

“Do we know who the father might be?" they asked, demanding I spell it out for them on camera.

I replied with a single nod, then I waved them off as the nurses repelled them out of sight. Whether they understood me or not didn't matter. I said the truth, and the burden of solving the riddle was now in their court. Whether the stories they published would be filled with praise, hate, indifference, or nothing at all, that was up to them to worry about. My focus was entirely on the furry bundles inside the cottage, and the she-wolf guarding them with her life.

Little Amy and Hollow Jr. were the perfect infants, my bias as their father notwithstanding. They made adorable little pup noises that were far easier to tolerate than the shrill crying of most human babies I ever had to share a space with. In all fairness, though, I'm sure I would have warmed up to any noise they made. They reminded me so much of the stuffed toys an infant would play with, as little animal people wearing human clothes and accessories. They weren't as wrapped up like a human infant would be thanks to their warm fur, but they were unmistakably different than the new litters of feral canines from a wild wolf. And above everything else, no matter how furry they were, how long their tails grew, or how pointed their ears and muzzles got, there was an essence of human familiarity to them. Maybe it was my TAGged nature that let me “see" the inner composition of those little blessings, but I knew they were my children. Marrow knew it as well.

“They have your eyes," she said, both pleased for me and mildly jealous at the same time.

“They have your 'everything else' at least," I joked.

And yet she wasn't wrong. Their eyes had flakes of gold in the same shade as their mother's eyes, but they were mostly the same silver as my “Thaumaturgical mode" and had a much more “human" aura to them than pure lupine eyes. My own eyes tingled with a familiar zing when they locked with the curious stares from the pups. I could see the seeds of Thaumaturgy in them, and their eyes shone just as mine did in response. Every time I looked at them, they gave me a reminder of what I passed on to them. I had conviction that my sliver of TAG power wouldn't atrophy anymore now that I had something in life to fight for, but even if I someday became as “mundane" as the rest of my human peers, I was assured that the power would continue to thrive within my children.

The sharing of power continued between Marrow and me. The next several days were spent keeping close to home, watching over the pups and tending to their needs like perfect teammates. The she-wolf was an exceptional mother, clearly possessing those natural animal instincts I had hoped she would demonstrate. But her recovery and constant vigilance over the little ones drained her of her energy, and so I was at the ready to take the baton when she needed a rest. We always slept together, often in states of near hibernation as the strenuous activity of the day's parenting wore us down until our bodies ached. Even then, the softest whimper from either of the kids in their crib in the middle of the night was enough to rouse Marrow from her deepest sleep so she could check on their progress. In the end, however, she was never jaded by her never-ending duties as a TAG mother, and I never let the hardships weigh me down either. Had I been selfish or cowardly enough to refuse the lupine's offer to raise our children together when she first returned to Claybank, she very likely would have succeeded as a single mother nonetheless. But entertaining that alternate reality even briefly put a sickening pit in my stomach. If anything would strip me of my Thaumaturgy, it would be a reality where I failed as a father and continued chasing that fleeting desire for stardom.

There was a time I considered being a sort of demi-hero “fun." Even amidst the tragedy of the Sin Armadous war, there was excitement in battle. Although Marrow would probably admit to having similar feelings as well, the shame of reminiscing on those days soured my memories of them. It was like the nostalgia that someone might have for their days as a troublemaking punk, uncaring of those who might have been hurt by selfish debauchery. The experiences were pleasurable in the moment, but looking back on them led to nothing but remorse. Yet now, being a father in this new world of ours introduced a different perspective of “fun." No amount of body-exhausting chores to keep the little ones safe and healthy diminished the anticipation of observing how much they grew overnight, as though I would wake up one morning to find them fully matured into adults ready to make legacies for themselves.

Hopefully by then, the world will be ready for Little Amy and Hollow Jr.

A few weeks passed, and the fulfillment of parenthood remained resolute. The kids still “spoke" in little yaps and whines like canine pups, but they were already developing their own personalities. Marrow was their source of food, warmth, and protection from strange sounds like thunderstorms, but I was their subject of curiosity and entertainment. When we were all gathered together in the living room, their eyes would be on me. They flailed and reached out in my direction, intrigued by the hairless wolf that lived with them. Little Amy had an adorable habit of sticking her tongue out when I nuzzled her nose, and her cries had an almost musical quality to them. Her cuteness belied her strength, however, and she was more than a handful when she wanted to squirm away or bowl over her brother. Marrow always used her strength and her fierceness openly to get to what she wanted, while Little Amy had her namesake's calmness to go along with the strength. I could see an older Little Amy underestimating her own power and leaving a path of destruction between her and anything that caught her eye, not intending on causing so much collateral damage as she sweetly broke everything in her wake.

Hollow Jr., meanwhile, was trouble in a more directly mischievous way. He quickly earned the nickname “Holl-hound" from his rascally behavior. He chewed on things more than Little Amy. He begged for attention more than her. He was the first to start whimpering when something loud spooked him. And of course....

“A-ah, biting, biting!" I said with a wince as the pup lunged for my ears.

“Don't show your weakness!" Marrow warned. “Put him in his place. Be tough!"

“It's fine...ow...."

“You're only training him to learn he can overpower you."

“Yeah, but I'm not going to fight with him. He's just a little pup! A-AH-OUCH!"

Marrowbone glared at me, as though the lesson was less for Hollow Jr. and more for me. The little scamp started swiping for my face dangerously.

I picked him up in both hands and furrowed my brow, making a growling sound in my throat. “NO. Hollow, NO!"

The little pup's ears folded back and he whimpered fearfully. His body shook pitifully in my grasp. I overdid it. It hurt me worse to see my own blood frightened than any bite or scratch he inflicted.

“Aww...I'm sorry, little buddy. I didn't mean it. You didn't deserve th—YEEOOUUCH!"

His fangs found my nostrils. Just like that, he was back to being a demon, with a full, naughty smile. Marrow abandoned any sympathies she had for me, and I was left to deal with the Holl-hound on my own. Little Amy watched from her blanket pile in the corner of the room, wearing a happy look of smugness as if she already knew she had secured her position as the favorite child in the family.

I lived with three lupine TAGs, two of which would probably outsize and overpower me in just a few short years. I had to train hard almost every day of the week just to maintain what little TAGged power I had, but I would need to work even harder to survive when the kids get old enough to start rebelling against their parents. Their teenage years will be an adventure for sure, dealing with their maelstrom of hormones and emotions while also vexed with mysteries and doubts of what their identities are. There will sadly be some tribulations in their future, for sure, even as they socialize with the diverse new population of humans and animal people. I wasn't worried for their safety necessarily so much as I was worried about the safety of those foolish enough to harass my kids. If the two inherit even half of their mother's strength, anyone who angers them to the point of violence will rue their mistake. With any luck, I could impart knowledge of when to not use their incredible might in favor of overcoming a challenge with careful words and a sharp mind.

The necessity for such a lesson came a little over a month and a half after the kids were born. They were too young to ever remember what happened that night, and I am eternally thankful for it.

It was late summer, fast on the heels of autumn, and the sun didn't set until we had a full day of activity to tire out the little ones and ourselves. Mother Marrowbone, however, was swiftly acclimating to life as a busy mother, and when the children slumbered she was still lively enough to enjoy a rare opportunity of private time with her beloved mate. Her attention was focused on Little Amy and Hollow Jr. for a short time after their birth, but her own “personal needs" eventually grew bored of being ignored. The feisty look of desire in her eyes rekindled, and that was my one warning that I wouldn't sleep until I spent every last scrap of energy I had left in the day was used for passionate lovemaking. Thankfully, I was able to convince the she-wolf the benefits of using certain measures of protection for preventing any additional “accidents" until we knew we were ready to handle more pups. The TAG reluctantly agreed, but my intuitions told me to keep a watchful eye out for sabotage. Her gestures of trying to be as “sexy" as human women models she'd seen in the media were endearingly appreciated, but there are only so many times I had to explain to her that a wrapped condom held in her mouth—clearly punctured with one of her dagger-like fangs—was a problem before I started to suspect she was doing it on purpose. The stunt backfired for her this time, however, as she had put a hole in the last one we had on a night when she was in one of her particular moods.

“Can't you go without one tonight?" Marrow complained, pretending she couldn't see the large rip in one of the sabotaged wrappers she pulled out of the garbage.

“Are you ready for more pups?" I asked, mostly teasing her but bracing myself for what the she-wolf's answer would be.

“Hmph...we wouldn't have to worry about them for a few months while they're growing, anyway," she grumbled, patting herself on her slimmed-down stomach. In the end, the lupine TAG who raged against countless soldiers of the Sin Armadous backed down at adding more little mouths to the den so soon.

Marrow stayed behind with the kids, waiting for my return in a dimly lit bedroom while I ran out to the drug store. The threat of the shop closing soon was equally as motivating to get there quickly as the threat of the lusty lupine was. If I came back empty handed, I wouldn't be able to fend her off until the next day. Still, I elected to jog there on foot as opposed to using the scooter, so that I built up a mild sweat on my return back for her. Rumors that the father of the legendary Marrowbone's kids was a TAGged human were beginning to be taken seriously, and so when I hustled up to the drug store counter with a single, very specific purchase—sweat beads rolling down my brow—the cashier understood the whole story without a single word. The parting words I was left with weren't “thank you for shopping with us" as usual, but a wry “good luck." I made sure to stock up on bandages and healing ointment during other visits to avoid stoking the fires of gossip too much. If I didn't draw attention to the fresh wounds, maybe others would think they were merely scars from the war when they eventually healed.

I hurried back to the cottage with the key to our feisty night in hand. My feet were carried by the sense of pride I had in what was waiting for me, which drove me forward at a steady pace but not as fast as I would normally be if my head wasn't filled with daydreams of the future. There was a sleepiness to the town that hung in the air, drizzled down from the starlight in the clear sky. Everything was quiet...too much so, frankly. The daydreams soured, as though being tainted from pleasurable wishes to troubling premonitions. As I entered the road leading up to the cottage, I thought I saw a faint illusion of the late Amaryllis loitering in the garden, as if waiting anxiously for my return. My blood turned cold in the muggy summer air as I noticed the open front door to the cottage.

Three human silhouettes crept through the threshold. My brain jammed with frantic searching through the day's memories, trying to recall if I had passed any of the figures recently. No doubt they saw me leaving the house while they waited in the shadows, advertising a perfect opportunity for them to make their move. But my body wouldn't let my mind fumble with a plan of action, and I was propelled toward the cottage with blinding speed. I sailed through the open doorway, skidding to a halt while my shining eyes adjusted to the darkness of the living room. The intruders were already spread out in their hunt, though still in no proximity to the sleeping wolves in the other room.

“HEY!" I roared, forgoing all sense of levelheadedness as I lost myself in the panic.

The strangers leapt in surprise, turning towards me in unison. All three of them were relatively young men, older teenagers probably and far too old to be ignorant of what kind of mistake they were making. They were dressed for anonymity, with hoods pulled overhead and their lower faces covered with bandanas, coordinated in similar frayed leathers with metal studs and spikes as if showing their gang solidarity was more important than stealthy discreetness. The most frightening part of their outfits was their armbands: they all wore the unforgettable insignia of the Sin Armadous army. A surge of warning coursed through my veins, but my muddled brain finally caught up to the rest of the scene and stoppered the fear with a plug of reason. Something doesn't add up, a voice inside me said.

“Oh, shit!" one of the strangers hissed, stepping back cautiously while their assumed ringleader reached slowly for his back pocket.

There was a glimmer of golden light from the bedroom door, followed by a monstrous growl. The intruders' heads whipped back behind them, but it was already too late. Marrowbone sent the leader flying across the room with a single swipe of her claw. His body collided against the wall with a sickening thud and crumpled into a motionless heap. I kept my eyes trained on the fight, but my feet were guiding me to the mantlepiece where my war rifle was on display, restless and loaded. A second of the trio tried to clumsily pull a weapon of his own on the TAG—a small handgun—but my trigger was faster. The young man yelped in pain as I sniped his hand, disarming him promptly and leaving a sizzling wound on his skin. The third one took off for the door, leaving his partners to their fate.

Although the incident quickly turned to our favor—with the remaining standing adversaries now outnumbered—the true danger was far from over. I saw Marrowbone's face in greater focus, and her visage terrified me. Her eyes were blinded by the rage of her TAG instincts, blank and inhuman like a zombie. In a single instant she had completely regressed to her feral, wartime wrath, triggered by the mere sight of the Sin Armadous insignia. It was a bloodlust, and it wouldn't stop even after the intruders were carved into gory ribbons. Marrowbone brought a paw down with crushing might, and the lonesome young man put his arms up feebly to block the attack. He was slammed onto the floor with the sound of snapping bones, writhing in pain and pleading for his life.

The paw was raised again, this time with claws fully extended and fingers flexed. I threw myself between the prone, helpless intruder and the frenzied TAG. I held my rifle overhead to intercept the strike as Marrowbone swung down with lethal force. The rifle snapped in two, cleaved by her unstoppable, adamantium brawn. I took a glancing blow on the head from the attack's follow-through, but I stood stalwart against the ringing pain. She balked at what she had done, though her pearly fangs were still bared in ferocity. I made an inner plea of desperation—a plea for her to stop, a plea for my TAGged power to resurface just one more time, a plea for my children's safety.

“MARROW, THAT'S ENOUGH!"

My voice shook the cottage. The lupine halted. Not even the clocks dared tick by with the passage of time as everything froze.

“Marrow, stop, please! It's just a stupid kid! There's no more fighting! It's over!"

It was a situation we both hoped to never be in for a second time and hope never to provoke ever again. The shame of our past argument stayed Marrowbone's rage, and gradually she let go of her frenzied state. Her face softened, her ears folded back, and her hairs flattened. She hadn't taken a single injury in the handful of seconds that the entire conflict lasted, but the expression on her face looked like someone who had just suffered a grievous wound, like a stab directly to the heart.

We stood without a word, listening to the miserable whimpering of the young man on the floor and the scared crying of the pups in the next room.

The town police left half an hour later with the two wounded intruders in custody. The runaway was caught not long after his escape once he had the entirety of Claybank on the hunt for him. The three young men, as my intuitions suspected, were not actually members of some Sin Armadous remnant faction, but they had found armbands belonging to the army circulating the black market and wore them in typical adolescent edginess. What better way to express one's misguided teenage rebellion than to mock society with a universally despised villain? The boys came from the capital city and mistakenly believed I was the only one who lived in the Amaryllis Guard cottage they had heard about in the news; they were hoping to steal a treasure of hers after they saw me leave for the drug store.

The crimes they had already committed were so serious that they had virtually no grounds to sue for the injuries Marrow dealt to them, and the townspeople assured us that they would stand by our side if the punks were foolish enough to try and seek reparation. With the tragedy of the Sin Armadous war still scarring the souls of survivors everywhere, some of the people even raved that the delinquents deserved a far greater punishment than what they were charged with. Their alarming anger rivaled the intimidation of the infamous army itself. In the end, I had to personally argue against a conviction that would ruin—figuratively or literally—the boys' lives. They were already doomed with reminders of their mistake forever, even after their broken bones eventually healed. With any luck, they would someday be the perfect teachers to steer the next generation away from a similar fate.

After vouching for the teens' safety, I had to console my Claybank neighbors more than they had to console me. Most were pretty shaken up over their peaceful town being so carelessly disturbed, and some wouldn't easily be reassured that the Sin Armadous hadn't actually returned to finish their destruction. The reporters who followed the police cars to the cottage, on the other hand, were beside themselves with excitement. They were giddy at how they could spin the army's “resurgence" into a profitable headline for tomorrow's news. Those evil people I did nothing to defend from the retaliation of the agitated townspeople, who had no patience for shit-stirrers invading their home to drum up controversy. It was another hour or so before the remaining police broke up the tensions and shooed everyone home, allowing my family some peace and quiet.

Marrow was sitting inside the cottage on the couch, with Little Amy and Hollow Jr. cradled in her arms. They were sound asleep again, while their mother looked down on them with profound sadness. I took a seat next to the she-wolf.

“You think I'm a monster," she said.

“This again? Marrow...."

“Why did you get in my way?" she said pathetically, clearly upset that I saved the disarmed intruder from a vengeful, gruesome end.

“Because I was worried about you," I said.

“Worried? Worried!? You think I can't handle myself? I could have taken them easily!" The twins stirred uncomfortably in Marrow's arms, pacifying the she-wolf as she rocked them gently.

“I know, and that's what I mean," I said.

The TAG looked into my eyes, confused yet desperate for understanding.

“You know? Then why—?"

“Because people can hurt us in ways other than spilling blood, Marrow," I said. “Listen, before he left us, Quested said something to me that makes a lot more sense now."

Marrowbone puckered at the eccentric wizard's name, but she didn't interrupt as I continued speaking.

“He said that even though we stopped the Sin Armadous army, we didn't 'remove evil from this world.' There are always going to be bad guys who want to bring others pain. They just had to chase off a bunch of reporters who were probably hoping someone died tonight just because they wanted a story. What would they think of you if you had slaughtered those kids? They would love nothing more than to make a TAG, a hero like you, into a villain."

There was a hybrid of expressions on the she-wolf's face. Disappointment. Betrayal. Frustration. Hopelessness. She could say more with a solemn look than she could with a human tongue. It was a look that said, “I don't belong in this world. Everything I have is here in my arms." Marrowbone was used to human society to a certain extent, but she was ultimately a creature born to fight, and now she was left in a world trying to maintain peace with no use for a TAG until the next war. She was trying to find a purpose in this new world; she found one in her children, but when she tried to protect them with the only way she knew how, she almost jeopardized everything. It was the most vulnerable I had ever seen her, even more so than our first big argument, but what made her condition especially heartbreaking was the nagging feeling that I could have done so much more to help her.

In the short time following the news I would be a father to Marrow's children, I had grown fond of the she-wolf. No, it was much more than just “fondness," but my growth in admiration for her was shamefully kept hidden inside. Maybe I still hadn't accepted the new role in life I was thrust into, or I kept trying to deny that I would be a father to some superhuman creature—one not even human in the broadest sense. I wasn't ready to commit to the reality that the “wife" I would potentially be bonded to forever was one I barely knew and never really “dated" beforehand. I was still hesitant to proclaim my dedication for Marrow to the world even after we mated many more times later, and while such a bold move could easily bring even more problems with it, failing to show my courage is what led to us sitting in the dark after an attempted burglary. The brazen punks who broke into our home evidently thought it was just me living in Amaryllis' cottage; if I had made it more clear to the world that “my" new home was also the home for one of the strongest fighters in the war against the Sin Armadous, would those teenagers have never dared bother us? Would warning the world about the beast defending Amaryllis' legacy have been the perfect “beware of dog" message to deter people like them?

“I think it would be best for me to leave," Marrow said. Her words were like a bucket of iced water. “Me and the little ones. There is still no place for us here, yet. If they choose to hate me, then I don't want you to be a part of it. I don't want you to be chased off like the others. I don't want to lose a...another teammate."

There was such a sharp pain in my gut I had to check if I had somehow been wounded in the scuffle. Marrow no longer said “teammate" in a literal way. She clearly meant it in the same way the spirit of Amaryllis had intended. “Teammate" to the she-wolf meant “family," and for how much she used to clash with the other Proto TAGs, they were family to her. When we lost Amy, we all lost a sister. Now, the lupine TAG was going to leave with the kids so that she wouldn't hazard losing family again, even if it meant we'd never see each other for the rest of our lives.

“No," I said. The word was directed at that bleak, hypothetical reality, but the next one was directly for the TAG. “No, please. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Marrow, it's my fault. I failed to protect you...and the kids. You don't need me to be a bodyguard, but I can still do my part to make a place for you in this world. I...haven't done all I can to deserve being TAGged. I want to change that."

“It's not your place to have to change," Marrow said, weariness heavy in her voice. “Not yourself, or the world. That's too much for even you. Weren't you the one who said, 'Know your limits?'"

“You don't think I can surpass myself?" I said, taking umbrage with her remark.

“I'm saying you don't need to, pup. TAGs were born to handle the stuff you humans can't. Taking care of me isn't your job."

“What if I want it to be?

“What reason would you even have, Hollow?" she said with building exhaustion. “I don't want your pity, and I don't want to take your freedom away. Why do you insist on making a home not meant for me? Why won't you just let me leave so you can be happy!?"

We were back to our old standoff. We weren't getting physical, we weren't locked in a grapple, but we were once again letting our emotions clash and grind, ripping a larger schism between us. I could feel the stiches of our last fight coming loose, undoing all the progress we had made together. The wound would eventually become too big to close with just careful words and empty gestures. Now was the time to cauterize it with a fiery stamp of commitment and honesty. I had to say it now, or risk losing the she-wolf forever.

“I can't let you leave, Marrow. You're too big a part of my life." I held her muzzle with my hands, noses touching as we gazed into each other's eyes. “I don't just care about your safety, and the safety of our kids, I...I'm actually in love with you, Marrow. I want us to be teammates, forever, and I love you. If you don't believe me about anything else, please believe that I truly, truly love you."

Little by little, the massive she-wolf deflated. First her ears, and then her eyelids. Her lungs let out a tired, but yearning howl. I grabbed her shaky arms in mine to keep the kids supported, and with her snout no longer in my hands she let her head sink on my shoulder next to mine. Our children were sandwiched between our bodies as we did our best to nuzzle each other's cheek. I repeated my dedication to the she-wolf several more times in her ear, so that she would sooner get sick of my voice before she would ever forget what I told her.

“Hollow...."

“No more looking back," I said, “and no more hanging back in that old world of regrets. You never let a few bad guys scare you into not moving forward, and it's time I took after you a little more. You have so many other amazing traits than just your strength. If I can't match you in muscle, then I want to match your bravery, and your determination. Just because I had a fraction of the power a TAG has doesn't mean I should settle for being a fraction of the hero all of you were out there."

“Y-you're still worried about trying to be a hero?" Marrow said with a shaky snicker.

“Yeah, I don't think I'm ever growing out of that," I chuckled back, “but I can change who I'm a hero for." I rubbed the lupine's arms affectionately. Little Amy and Hollow Jr. cooed sleepily in unison.

Marrowbone shook with a hiccup of laughter, amused and relieved at the same time. She continued to rub her face against my head, and I could feel a dollop of moisture on my skin.

“I...hhrrmm...luh'mmm..you too...."

“What was that?"

“I said I could have found a lot worse of a mate!"

[[Part 6: Several Months Later]]

Spring arrived again in Claybank. It was getting close to the one-year mark since a pregnant Marrowbone tracked me down to Amaryllis Guard's hometown and delivered the news that we would be parents. Little Amy and Hollow Jr. were getting bigger each day, and they were beginning to communicate in a way that seemed like the buddings of human speech. It was at this point I had relinquished my TAGged name when around the kids in favor of just “Dad" (or at least garbled noises that sounded like Dad when they attempted it). My son the Holl-hound would be the primary “Hollow" of the household until he was only enough not to be confused by why the cottage had two with the same name. Marrow gave me some other names as a substitute, from “my mate" to “my love" to even “my hero," with the last one being mostly tongue-in-cheek. Switching from Hollow-Point in public to Dad at home was already so disorienting that some days I completely forgot what my real name before the war used to be.

Marrowbone was ever the vigilant mother, but her drive to keep her family safe spurred a resurgence of her old, wild fighting soul. We built a training field out in the yard together, with obstacles to run through and dummy targets to keep our combat abilities honed. It wasn't long before the she-wolf reverted to a toned physique similar to her Proto TAG days, though she never completely shed the motherly fruitfulness that her first litter brought with them. Even with her body's changes, she ran literal laps around me as we trained together virtually every day of the week.

“Finishing my fourth, pup!" she'd bark proudly, streaking by me as she vaulted over a hurdle.

“Y-yeah, not fair, though!" I wheezed, crossing the finish line for the first time. “I've been busy with the kids!"

The two little ones would crawl onto the field after us, forcing me to stop and relocate them back to their blanket off to the side. They remained in place for only a few short moments before making another daring escape. The more they wore me down, the feistier they became. Eventually, I was pinned to the ground with the runts gnawing on my limbs and me begging for Marrow to save me.

Our family training eventually drew in curious onlookers, particularly when it came to observing our combat routines. Demonstrating her TAG power was a fulfilling way for Marrowbone to discharge her built up energy while finally getting the recognition and respect she deserved. Bystanders watched with rapt attention as she slashed and slammed the wooden training dummies, then they scattered like a timid animal spooked by a loud sound when she splintered the target into a rain of wood chips. The destruction typically marked the end of the demonstration, and while some didn't come back after skittering away from her raw strength, there were usually enough courageous hearts left to give her a round of applause. The beaming look of satisfaction she flashed me was worth the constant need to rebuild the targets.

Our overall interactions with the townspeople had become much more amicable since the previous year, but the real surprise was seeing the evolution of new couples all over. The Thaumaturgy-evolved animal people were almost indistinguishable from humans in their everyday behavior; they dressed in the same fashions, they laughed at the same jokes, they chased the same popular trends. Most interestingly, they were starting to pair up in more intimate ways. Nearly every walk Marrowbone and I took in the park led to a charming new sight, from a boy and his vixen friend enjoying a private picnic, to a hiking, fluffy bear man with a young woman hanging playfully from his shoulders like a backpack. I often wonder how much of an influence Marrowbone and I had on these promising couples whenever we encountered them. At the same time, however, it was just as reasonable to believe the humans seeking companionship from the new species of Earth citizens (or vice versa) would have hooked up regardless.

Not everyone was happy with the cross-species mingling, and have many of them continue to harbor bitter resentment to this day, but one lesson (or warning) they fortunately understand is that someone in these novel new relationships is almost certainly going to be strong enough to fight for their teammate's safety. The notoriety of Marrowbone's righteous fury in driving off the would-be-burglars has given the human-with-animal-people objectors a good reason to hold their tongues. Rumor has it that there was an exponential increase in Sin Armadous paraphernalia found in garbage cans and dumpsters the day after news broke about the teenagers' botched crime.

But as a wise, mostly deranged wizard once said, evil wasn't completely removed from the world. The Sin Armadous will, regrettably, most likely return someday, likely under a different name altogether. However, I'm confident their removal will be even faster than the last time, so long as we have TAGs and their TAGged partners, humans and animals, and everyone else in between prepared to fight for a world worth saving. It was our responsibility to teach the new generation that being “TAGged" wasn't even about Thaumaturgical power or being blessed by a “real" TAG, but being touched by a hero and carrying on their legacy, especially if said hero has to one day hang up the mantle and don the tropical shorts.

Risk Pagron does, I must admit, pull off tropical shorts pretty well.

Springtime ushered in a Proto TAG reunion, when Risk and Locket managed to sneak away from the capitol city and slip into Claybank with a minimal number of obsessive groupies chasing after them. They recently returned from their stint of traveling the globe, which was partially to help motivate the rebuilding of destroyed cities and partially to savor an extended, exotic respite after the war. Amaryllis' cozy town was the perfect spot to take a vacation from their vacation while paying their respects to their former friend and ally. The world-spanning news of two Proto TAGs having two adorable pups together may have also encouraged the reunion. It was a cloudless afternoon when Mr. Perfect himself and his bare-knuckle bride strolled up to the garden.

“Hey hey, there's the ol' war dog!" Risk roared. “Marrowbone, you're looking good as always, too!"

Risk looked marginally smaller in musculature after trading in his combat clothes for beach-appropriate apparel, though a year devoid of swinging a sword around in life-or-death situations contributed to some understandable weight loss. Locket, meanwhile, seemed to have found a little of what Risk had lost; though still showing signs of a toned, seasoned warrior, she was slightly burdened with the consequence of her military regimen suddenly grinding to a halt and being replaced with a luxurious, indulgent break. [Note to self: for personal safety, strongly consider removing this bit before publishing.]

“Can't say I don't envy the quiet little slice of paradise you two have carved out for yourselves here," Locket said, nodding to me, Marrowbone, and the kids. She turned around and glared at a flock of onlookers off in the distance, who quickly dispersed when they realized they had been caught. “Wouldn't mind having a spot like this as a yearly retreat."

“We could always use a couple part-time nannies!" I said, holding Little Amy out for Locket. The hardened TAG took the pup in her arms gingerly. Amy reached a paw out to Locket and stuck her tongue out, using her adorable charm that would someday become a frightening weapon of manipulation. For the first time since I met Locket, the raven-haired TAG's face melted into a look of tender longing.

“Aww, she's so precious, Hollow." Locket turned to Risk, holding the pup's paw and waving at him with it. Her voice suddenly stiffened up. “Aren't babies precious, Risk?"

“U-uh, yeah, Lock, they really are," Risk said, stretching out his shirt collar. “I sure know how much you love them...."

Marrow passed Hollow Jr. off to Risk, either saving him from Locket's unrelenting glare or possibly making his awkward predicament worse.

“Well, hey, little guy!" he said, bopping the pup lightly on the nose with his finger. “Boy, you really look a lot like your mom, but you got your daddy's ey—WOO-AHHH! This one's a biter! H-ha-ha...!"

I may have figured out where Junior got his behavior from. As the TAGs stayed busy with the bundles of fur, Marrowbone draped an arm around my shoulder and chewed on my ear. To the others it probably looked like a casual display of affection, but I knew the she-wolf's telltale signs of seeking something a little more intimate later on after our guests would leave. I scratched her belly fur to show her the message was well received.

“Heheyho! Sounds like I'm missing all the fun!"

Everyone except Risk rolled their eyes as Quested popped into existence. Much like his favorite mentee, under the wizard's usual “sagely robes" were short-sleeved clothes covered in floral print and tropical colors. Underneath even that, however, the enigmatic TAG wore a full-body diver's wetsuit, continuing to keep his true skin forever a mystery.

“Quested!" Risk bellowed in relief. “You're just in time to—OW—help us with our latest struggle!"

The wizard wasn't so interested in his former student's plight as he was in the furball Risk was holding. Quested leaned in closely and gave Hollow Jr. an inquisitive look—or what I assumed would be an inquisitive look if I could see his shaded face from underneath his wide-brimmed hat, which was now made entirely with straw. Junior slapped the brim of the hat playfully before the wizard moved on to Little Amy. She regarded him with silent fascination, and in that moment she reminded me so much of the gentle, carefree woman she was named after. Amaryllis always seemed to look past Quested's quirkiness and straight to the redeeming qualities (whatever those may be) within him.

“Hmmm...yes...wonderful!" Quested said after a long pause. “They are developing magnificently! They will no doubt grow to be fine heroes someday. Truth be told, I had my doubts the two of you would be so compatible that night, let alone create such a healthy first litter of offspring!"

The Proto TAGs were used to brushing off the wizard's ramblings without acknowledging or humoring him, but this time everyone clung to his words with suspicion.

“How did you know about that night?" I asked slowly.

“What do you mean 'first litter?'" Marrowbone snapped.

“Quested..." Locket groaned.

“Eh? O-oh! Well, that's...I had heard...ah, the tea leaves, you see...umm....goodness, is it that time already?" The sagely TAG looked up to the sun and then gave a brief nod to each Proto in turn. “Sorry I couldn't stay longer. Always busy, you see! Best of luck to the new parents!"

And just as quickly as he arrived, the wizard was gone in a shower of sparkling confetti. Locket shook her head as Risk rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“He's a great guy, heh."

As Risk and Locket trailed off into their usual lovely bickering, looking more like a true married couple with their arms full of kids, Marrowbone resumed nibbling my ear and exuding her motherly pride.

“Guess I'll have to make another trip to the drug store for more you-know-whats," I said under my breath, “so we can make this 'first litter' last as long as possible."

“No need," she rumbled back. The she-wolf stopped my hand from scratching her belly and kept it pressed in place. “A little too late for that. Seems like one of them didn't work so well. Now we won't need any for a while."

Marrow flashed me a pearly smile, her fangs glinting as if giving a sly wink. I turned to Risk and Locket, sweating nervously.

“So, uh, yeah! Definitely consider that nanny offer in the future! The sooner the better! P-please...."

Looking through the space where the two visiting TAGs held the feisty pups, I could make out the faint image of Amaryllis Guard sitting on the garden fence, the sunlight showering her with a warm beam. She giggled silently at the reunion of her friends and the growth of the new team of Protos, and she waved at the young lupine child named in her honor. Little Amy stared back with her tail wagging in delight.

A few short years ago, the world changed for everyone. Most will point to the Sin Armadous war as the universal turning point, but for me it was something different. Even with my Thaumaturgical “sight," it wasn't as clear for me what the one catalyst for change was, if I could even pick just one. Was it getting TAGged? Was it sharing that first pivotal, albeit hazy night of intimacy with a downtrodden Marrowbone? Was it when she returned to me with a pregnant swell and the news that I was the one responsible, or not until she gave birth to two beautiful children? Or was it something even later than that, when it took the wisdom of a friendly departed spirit or the fear of losing everything to selfish trespassers for me to accept the new man I had become?

But the question of “when" my world changed was ultimately irrelevant; much like the night of spontaneous passion at the Swept Inn, what was done in the past was done in the past. The real question became, “How do you handle your world changing?" For many unfortunate people, they haven't coped with their new reality still to this day. As it turns out, adjusting to the new world of Thaumaturgy, TAGs, and animal people wasn't even my biggest hurdle; as Amaryllis Guard reminded me, not everyone's challenge is the same. I thought I had handled the world changing pretty well, but that was because my own challenge hadn't even been given to me yet. The real test came to me when I asked myself two things: if I still wanted to be a hero, and what does a hero look like? I always wanted to be a hero in the “wrong" way, for the “wrong" reasons. I wanted to be like Risk Pagron, and not someone who deserved to be admired for his own merits. But now, I wouldn't trade anything to live in Risk's shoes. I am a hero for my family, and no other metric is needed.

Marrowbone is the wife, lover, and teammate I never imagined I wanted, yet I can't imagine a world of tomorrow where I would have to live without her. Not only her, but Little Amy, Hollow Jr., and the runts apparently still to come. When I look at Marrow, my children, and my new friends, I don't look back at all the days I spent trying to figure out who I am. Those days seem even foggier now than the drunken night of revelry I shared with the she-wolf. When asked what I did in those distant years before the war, then I can copy a page out of Risk's book and proudly declare, “I was simply training to become a hero, just like him." I was preparing for my future, even when I didn't know it yet.

Will we ever figure out where TAGs came from, or what the origin of Thaumaturgy really is? That answer is far beyond the scope of my powers, and maybe even Quested's. The answer would be nice to know, but what's more important to me is understanding what the meaning of being TAGged truly is. You don't need Thaumaturgy to be TAGged, that much is abundantly clear now. When you're “TAGged," it simply means you're chosen to be a hero. I was TAGged to be a father, a caretaker, and a friend, all for just one lonely soul. None of what I was asked to do required herculean strength or supernatural marksmanship, but it demanded a compassionate heart and an open mind. My hero's trial didn't come until months after I thought I was TAGged and given my powers, and for you it may not come for many years beyond what you think you can see. Until that day comes, however, it is your duty to prepare for it. Be ready for the moment you are asked to be someone's hero, because you may be the only one in the world to help them.

And if you feel you're not quite ready to take the hero's role, there is no shame in waiting until you are prepared. Just remember, however, for those who unsure of themselves: if you ever find yourself alone in a bedroom with a drunken, assertive, cuddly she-wolf, consider using protection.

The end.