Young Writers Society

where I stole the title from

Strange things washed up on shore all the time. Sometimes splinters of wood from what might’ve once been a boat. Sometimes the stray tentacle or rotting lump of meat. Sometimes bones. Xain was convinced that, when he was a kid, a whale had beached itself on the tiny cove outside his parents’ house. His father had kept Xain inside the house, though – Xain had barely known anything had happened until he’d heard the whispers among the villagers when his father had gone to town to sell his wares. The kitsune understood why his father had done that. As much as he loved the sea, what it spat out wasn’t his business. Especially if he couldn’t eat it or sell it.

Staring down the winding path in front of him, Xain let out a deep breath. On a clear day like this, with the smell of the tranquil sea in his nostrils and the morning dew budding around his paws, he could catch some large fish. He wasn’t keen on anything getting in the way of that. His two tails twitched as he stepped away from the thin layer of grass, paws navigating over rocks and avoiding holes. The dim light of the sun, just barely rising above the horizon, illuminated the switchbacks carved into the white rock below him. The switchbacks that he had gone up and down a thousand times, almost since the moment he could first walk. He knew these steps, these crevices, these gaps inside and out. There was (usually) nothing to fear here.

Xain tapped the bottom of his fishing pole against the stone, humming snippets of tunes to himself. The sunlight, pink and red and white, climbed up the wall to meet him. He lowered his head to keep from getting blinded, since his forepaws were a little preoccupied holding up his fishing rod and net.

Which left his ears to pick up on the splashing of something in the distance.

The kitsune paused. Setting his pole and net against the rock that jutted out in front of him, he crouched down and grabbed its edges. Just like his father had taught him. And Xain wasn’t too far from the house, if worst came to worst. He wasn’t always that lucky.

As much as the sun reflected off the cliffs, the pale sand on the beach, and the blue-green water at the center of the cove, it didn’t take Xain long to spot what was making that noise. And, to Xain’s surprise, it was some kind of boat. A completely intact one, with a design that Xain couldn’t recognize. The tigers always preferred bigger and more imposing boats, while the (very few) kitsune boats he’d ever seen had used plenty of straw and whatever else had been on hand. Trees were hard to come by here.

Curious, Xain decided to do something his father wouldn’t have done – he made his way a little further down the path, quickly resting on his belly behind a smaller rock. Still far enough away that he felt fairly secure, though the tentacles on some of the bigger creatures in the ocean could possibly reach him. He ignored the pit in his stomach and kept on watching.

Now it was possible to pick out more detail on the boat. Specifically, there was one occupant, who appeared to be trying to paddle with a paw. It clearly wasn’t nearly as effective as the tide, but Xain guessed that the occupant was trying to escape from something. The long, murky shapes in the water confirmed that guess.

Xain bit his lip. As far as he could tell, the stranger was some sort of kitsune. Was it someone he knew? Was it one of his siblings? The stranger was on a strange boat, wearing clothes that Xain wasn’t familiar with (and a few more layers than most of the people Xain knew, including himself), so it couldn’t be them. But he felt a bit guilty feeling relieved about that.

Some of the larger waves carried the boat towards the shore. One threw the boat onto the sand, sending the occupant flopping face-first onto dry land. Heartbeat roaring in Xain’s ears, the kitsune couldn’t begin to imagine how much more terrified the occupant was as the occupant pulled their face of the sand and caught sight of the long, green-and-pink tentacles that began to slip their way out of the water. Suction cups the side of Xain’s head twitched, while the tentacles curled and unwinded.

The stranger was doomed. The creature didn’t exactly know where they were, but that didn’t matter. They were too close to the ocean, too far from the cliffs, going up tentacles that were too fast and too flexible. They’d probably be dashed against the rocks, or crushed, or, worse yet, pulled into the water.

But the stranger didn’t get the message, because they ran back to their boat. A few seconds of paws running along the crevices of the boat later, the stranger pulled out some kind of long wooden tip with a metal end. Before Xain could figure out what the stranger was trying to do, the stranger pointed the stick towards one of the tentacles.

A boom! rang out. The stranger toppled onto the sand in a cloud of smoke, while the tentacles flailed. After throwing lot of foam and spray, along with a couple bubbly screeches, the creature slipped back into the water, fading into the dark depths of the cove and the ocean beyond. The cove fell silent.

Xain hesitated, waiting for any other noise to let him know that the creature was still there. He got the impression that he wouldn’t be doing any fishing today, but he wasn’t concerned about that. Was the stranger alright? What had the stranger done? Had the stranger killed the creature? There was only one way to find out.

Once his stomach stopped feeling like it was churning, Xain slowly pulled himself onto his hindpaws and began to navigate the cliffs.

When his paws touched the cold sand, Xain hesitated. The stranger rested on the sand a stone’s throw away, besides the long wooden stick. Xain half-expected the stranger to twitch, yawn, move – nothing happened. The stranger was out cold. Which was perfectly understandable.

The kitsune decided to walk over to what he was a little more comfortable with. Standing beside the broad-bowed boat, with water gently washing over Xain’s hindpaws, Xain set a paw against the wood. Yep, that was wood. Bleached and cracked from exposure to the sun, but surprisingly intact. There were a few scratches along the sides that Xain wasn’t curious to learn anything about, and a small amount of water inside the boat, but that either wasn’t a problem or could be fixed easily, respectively. Xain just wasn’t sure if he could pull it away from the shore before something dragged it back in the water. He’d have to figure that out after he dealt with the stranger.

Xain looked over at the stranger. And blinked. It’d been a little hard to see through the reflected sunlight, but that definitely wasn’t a kitsune. The fur color was a little too red, that body was a little too compact, and the stranger smelled wrong. It wasn’t the smell of the stranger’s leather overalls, or the tan shirt (which was still made out of some material Xain couldn’t place). It was the stranger’s matted and gritty fur. Against his better judgment, Xain walked over, kneeled down by the stranger, picked them up by their head, and sniffed. Eugh – Xain wrinkled his snout. They clearly hadn’t taken a bath in a long time. But they weren’t a kitsune.

So, what were they? Xain shifted the stranger onto his side, taking note of the tail. Only one? Where they a kit? What was a kit doing out here, dressed up in strange clothes, sitting in a strange boat, waving some strange stick around? Had their parents abandoned them? Speaking of that strange stick, Xain reached a claw out and tapped the metal end. The heat flashed its way through his arm, causing him to yank it back. His claw managed to pick up some of the strange-smelling black powder that also littered the stranger’s paws. Hmm.

Well, Xain wasn’t going to get any answers until the stranger woke up. Sticking his arms underneath the stranger, Xain lifted him back onto the boat. The boat shifted ever so slightly, but didn’t slip back into the cove. Grabbing the stick by the (fortunately much cooler) wooden end, Xain also tossed it into the boat. After that, it was a matter of getting around to the other side of the boat, looking down to make sure nothing in the water was trying to bite his ankles, and slowly shoving the boat across the beach.

A few breaks later, Xain managed to wedge the boat between two rocks by the cliff. The boat probably wouldn’t be submerged in high tide, though he wasn’t sure if it’d be intact when he got back. Whenever he got back. Ugh – so much for fishing.

It was when Xain picked up the stranger again that Xain noticed something jammed into one side of the boat. A chest, from the looks of it. A locked chest. What was that about?

Xain, trying to keep his snout as far away as possible, looked at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. The stranger’s chest rose and fell gently, while the stranger’s head slowly tiled towards Xain. The stranger looked a little too peaceful for Xain to rummage around their (many) pockets.

And maybe just a little adorable, but Xain didn’t want to admit that. With a huff, Xain navigated the unconscious stranger around the rocks, and began to make the long climb back up.

A fire crackled in the hearth at the center of Xain’s home.

Xain hummed to himself as he attached cleaned-out fish to strings, suspending them over the fire. He was starting to run low on his supply of manure, straw, and the occasional bit of driftwood, but hopefully he’d be able to cook enough fish to keep him going for another week or two. The less often he had to go to the village, the better. Though he wasn’t quite sure how things would work out now that he had another mouth to feed.

The stranger was currently on the other side of the one-room house, tucked into bed. Hopefully the stranger wouldn’t complain about the flax pillow or the straw-filled mattress when they woke up. And they’d started to snore an hour or two ago, so Xain guessed that wouldn’t be too much longer.

Turning around, Xain reached down to open a couple of straw boxes next to what he liked to think of as the kitchen. One box had strings of cooked fish, while another had been partly filled with raw fish. Xain took out a couple of yesterday’s catches and set them down on a metal plate beside a basin. The water in the basin was looking a little murky, but Xain figured he could clean and scale the fish before he replaced the water.

A rusted knife and a little while later, the kitsune had some more fish to string over the fire. With that out of the way, Xain moved to the table beside the kitchen. He had to admit, he was a little happy to have the chance to pull out one of the chairs he’d stacked in the corner of the room. It had been a while since he’d needed any of them.

Grabbing a string from one box, Xain laid out a couple slices of well-cooked fish meat on the table. With the addition of a couple pouches of water, the kitsune could finally sit down and pick apart the cooked fish in front of him.

Xain sighed. He felt like he’d done the right thing by brining the stranger back to his house, but he wasn’t quite sure how he could make this situation work. Ideally, he could find out who the stranger was, who the stranger’s family was, and point the stranger in the right direction. If that he didn’t work out, he’d probably have to teach the stranger how to fish. It was difficult enough for Xain to feed himself, given the kinds of things the sea liked to throw at him. Himself and the stranger? He’d have to think about going to the village. Going to his sisters.

No, he wouldn’t worry about that. That was a last resort. If he could get the stranger out quickly, or if the stranger and him could live off of the ocean, Xain wouldn’t have to bring his sisters into this. That didn’t stop him from thinking about their murmurs of disapproval, their raised snouts, or the paws they would set on his shoulder as he used up his claws to tear the fish into pieces. He realized he hadn’t taken a bite.

Spearing one of those pieces with a claw, Xain raised it up to his face. And then paused. Had the stranger stopped snoring?

Xain glanced at the bed. Yep, the stranger was definitely awake; they yawned, stretching their arms. Eyes still closed, they paused in the middle of scratching their back, clearly having realized something was off.

The stranger’s eyes shot open. They darted around until they focused on Xain, whereupon the stranger pulled their bedsheet up to their neck and glared at the kitsune. That’s when the stranger growled something that Xain didn’t quite understand.

“What?” Xain said, tilting his head slightly. Maybe the stranger was just exhausted, hungry, or thirsty after spending what Xain had to guess had been days on that boat. After all, the stranger hadn’t exactly smelled like they had taken a bath in quite some time. Unless they didn’t like baths. Which was a little gross of them.

Narrowing their eyes, the stranger repeated whatever they had said, but more slowly.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about?” said Xain, setting his piece of fish down. He thought about getting out of his seat, but figured that’d spook the stranger a little more than they already were.

The stranger, face wrinkled in confusion, said something else. Xain had the feeling it was the same question – it had the same intonation and tone – but almost like it was in another language. That Xain also couldn’t understand, though he swore he could vaguely recognize some of the words.

However, he couldn’t really deny it at this point; they spoke different languages. And Xain had never heard of the languages the stranger was speaking. So much for getting the stranger out of here quickly.

Having seen Xain’s open mouth and bewildered expression, the stranger threw their paws up in the air. Then the stranger seemed to realize something else, because their eyes bugged out, they started patting their bed, and they glanced around at the floor. Before Xain could ask what was bothering the stranger, the stranger focused on Xain again and made some kind of gesture with their paws. The outline of something?

Oh. Xain pointed to a spot behind the bed. Craning around, the stranger quickly wrapped their arms around the chest that Xain had left there. And began caressing the wood. Hng.

Xain was pretty sure it was the right time to get up. His chair screeched as he pushed it back and walked over to the stranger. The stranger, now resting his head on top of the chest, tried to wave Xain off. Taking the hint and keeping a couple feet away from the stranger, Xain gestured back towards the table.

Almost immediately, the stranger fixated on the cooked fish, and began to pull themselves out of the bed. Only for Xain to get another confirmation that the stranger had spent a long time on a boat; the stranger slumped onto the floor, arms and legs shaking. Xain took that as a cue to wrap his arms around the stranger’s shoulders and pull the stranger onto their feet. The stranger resisted, if waving their arms and mumbling what Xain guessed were threatening comments was resistance, but they quieted down as Xain dragged them over to the table.

A minute later, Xain found himself sitting opposite from the stranger, who was currently engrossed in stuffing their face full of fish, tipping the pouch of water over their mouth, and generally being a rude houseguest. Not that Xain could exactly blame them, but it did make things a bit awkward. The language barrier between them wasn’t all that helpful either.

Once it looked like the stranger had slowed down, Xain decided to take the opportunity to introduce himself. It seemed more and more like they were going to be under the same roof for a little while, so they might as well know each other’s names.

Pointing to himself, the kitsune said, “Xain.”

The stranger, in the middle of gnawing on their last piece of fish, froze. “Xain?” they said, pointing to themselves after a few seconds of staring at Xain.

What. What did the stranger think Xain was saying? The kitsune shook his head, then pointed to himself a little more forcefully. “Xain.”

“Xain,” said the stranger, copying the kitsune.

Ugh. With a deep sigh, Xain gestured to himself. “My name is Xain,” he said slowly and carefully, extending the pads of his paws to the stranger when he finished.

The stranger seemed to (finally) get the hint. They pointed to themselves; when Xain nodded, they said, “Rasca?”

Ah, so that was their name. Nodding, Xain said, “It’s nice to meet you, Rasca.”

Confusion flickered across the stranger’s face. “Xain?” the stranger said.

Xain got the feeling the next couple weeks were going to be a little long.

Xain watched as the string on his fishing soared through the air and landed at the edge of the deeper water in the cover. As he stood there, ankles in the water, he tried to think about the words that he’d learned today.

It had been about a week since he’d pulled Rasca away from the shore. Rasca had spent most of that week in bed, and Xain could only get them to come out from under the bedsheets with food. And whatever Rasca had in that chest, but Rasca wasn’t keen on explaining the chest to Xain. Sometimes, when Xain left the house in the early morning to go fishing, he could hear Rasca open the chest. But it, and Rasca’s lips, would always be closed by the time Xain came back.

That wasn’t necessarily Xain’s problem – talking to Rasca, and figuring out Rasca’s situation, was. Their meals were starting to turn into vaguely annoying games of charades, where Xain and Rasca would point to different objects in the house and name them. Yesterday night, Rasca had named a pillow, and maybe the chimney. Or maybe fire. It had been a little hard to tell, since Rasca had been a little uncomfortable sitting next to the fire. Xain wasn’t quite sure why; the kitsune had gotten used to the smell a long time ago. And Rasca smelled worse.

But Xain could take care of that. In the meantime, the kitsune focused on the surface of the water, rolling around new words in his head. Learning another language was, strange. He’d heard snippets of other languages from traders, sailors, travelers that wandered into his village or by his house, but it had been gibberish to him. They’d either been talking to each other, hadn’t known what language he knew, or had been humming some tune. None of that had anything to do with him. Taking that gibberish and applying it to something he knew was a little off-putting.

The string snapped taut. On instinct, the kitsune hauled the rod back, sending a large brown fish soaring into the air. As the kitsune twisted around, he threw the rod towards the sand. In a few seconds, the fish crashed onto the beach, flopping around helplessly.

Xain walked over to the fish. Maybe he’d bring it to Rasca and ask what it was called in Rasca’s language. Two words for the same thing, unless Rasca’s idea of a fish was a little different from Xain’s idea of a fish. Hmm. Xain felt like he’d get the hang of it eventually, but it scared him. Maybe the rock that he picked up meant something more like a pebble or a boulder in Rasca’s language. How could he ever figure that difference out? Maybe it didn’t matter – maybe Xain would get Rasca back to their home before it became an issue. Or maybe Xain would figure out how to think and speak in two different languages, blend them together, sound like he’d spoken them both for his entire life, impress his family, understand Rasca perfectly. He did like the idea, even if he wasn’t sure how to make it happen. It’d take a while, at the least.

Slamming the rock on the fish’s head, Xain watched as it started to struggle a little less, mouth opening and closing more slowly. It stopped moving after the third blow; Xain picked it up and dropped it into a basket. At least the fishing hadn’t been so bad. After Rasca had driven away that monster, it must’ve told its friends to stay away from the cove. The larger creatures wouldn’t be scaring away the fish for a while. Hopefully. Those things could be surprisingly persistent, especially since they weren’t used to a whole lot of resistance.

Right now, it didn’t look like Xain would run out of fish too quickly. He still needed to get Rasca to join him, even though that’d make Rasca’s already impressive appetite worse. Before he could do that, though, Rasca needed a bath. Xain wasn’t about to let Rasca’s rancid odor drive the fish away.

That was why, with only a couple hours of fishing behind him, Xain slung the basket over his shoulder, grabbed his rod, and began making his way up the cliff. The gentle morning wind nipped at his ears, while the stone under his paws felt frigid. He ignored it. The seasons didn’t change too much in a place like this – it was always humid, never too hot, could get frigid in the winter. And it was only a couple weeks before harvest season wrapped up, so the weather wasn’t going to get any more reasonable than this for a long time. Not the worst time to take a bath.

Reaching the top of the cliff, Xain walked around the house. Not far from the back of the house, a stone well with a rotting wooden conical top had been set into the ground. Xain remember when his dad had last replaced that top with the prow of a boat; the kitsune could still see where the peak of the cone curved. A rope stretched deep into the well, with a submerged pouch of water on the other end.

Xain set his basket and rod down, stretching. He winced as his back popped, then relaxed as he rotated his shoulders and caught side of the metal basins set next to well. Walking over, Xain dragged one around the side of the house. He wanted to respect Rasca’s privacy, after all.

It wasn’t long before Xain found himself yanking the rope up, pouring pouches of water into each of the basins. Between the rotting top and the frayed rope, it wasn’t the safest thing he’d ever done. But he could still remember sitting on his father’s shoulders, trying to hold the top up while the father nailed it into place. He didn’t quite feel in the mood to replace them, even if they’d been around long before he’d grown his second tail.

The basins were just wide and just deep enough for Xain to sit in, so long as his legs dangled over the side, so it only took until the sun had risen slightly above the cliffs for the kitsune to fill them up. Now came what Xain suspected was the hard part – getting Rasca to take a bath.

On the bright side, the commotion had clearly woken Rasca up. Rasca stared at Xain as he walked into the house, rod and basket in hand. But, by the time Xain had walked over to the kitchen to set the rod and basket down, they’d already flopped back into bed and wrapped themselves up in blankets. Ugh.

Xain made his way over to the bed in question, gently prodding the lump resting on it. Nothing. Another prod. Nothing. A third prod. Rasca’s snout poked out from the blankets, sniffing in Xain’s general direction. Xain could see a pair of eyes in the shadow of the blanket. Good enough.

Crouching down, Xain tugged at the blanket around Rasca’s snout, tapping Rasca’s overalls while waving a paw over his nose. Rasca took the hint, given the way that they growled and shoved their snout back into the blanket. The blanket turned into a pile of flailing limbs and grumbling, spitting out overalls, a shirt, an undershirt, boots, long socks, and boxers. The kitsune was a little concerned about how he’d wash all of those things, since he didn’t quite recognize the thick fabric on them, but he figured they’d probably take to cold water well enough.

Still, there was the matter of Rasca themselves. After some more prodding, Rasca seemed a little less enthusiastic about giving up the blanket, but (eventually) handed it over anyway. Tail wrapped around their waist, Rasca turned their back on Xain, and was even less enthusiastic when Xain kept on poking them.

Rasca groaned, waving an arm at Xain. Ugh. With Rasca not being very cooperative, Xain figured it’d be best to bring the tub to them. Setting Rasca’s clothes on the floor, Xain walked outside the house, around the corner, and grabbed onto the edges of the basin. A lot of struggling, growling, and scraping later, Xain managed to haul the basin up to the front of the house. “Come on out!” Xain said. “I don’t want my house smelling like wet fur!”

A growl came out of the entrance. Ugh. Well, Rasca must’ve heard all that noise, and they could definitely see the edges of the basin from the bed. If Rasca didn’t take the hint, Xain would have to be a little more forceful. Xain wasn’t about to share a house with someone who smelled that awful, especially if the other person was okay with it. Xain had no idea how Rasca’s parents could’ve tolerated them; he certainly wasn’t about to. Still, Xain had been waiting a week, and he could wait a few more hours. In the meantime, Xain could take his own bath.

The kitsune walked around to the back of the house, where his own basin was. Slipping off his loincloth, he slipped into the water. Just a tad frigid, but he’d been doing this long enough that he didn’t notice. Besides, he liked being able to rest into the water and stare out at the horizon. As he scratched his back, his eyes shifted from the gently rolling plains to sharp cliffs. It wasn’t always the friendliest place; those short, gray grasses didn’t provide any protection from the winds, and they made farming a bit of a challenge (as he’d found out in the couple months he’d tried to farm). The rocks on the cliff were cold and unforgiving, and the sea was full of strange, large, dangerous creatures. He’d certainly gotten his fair share of cuts, bruises, and scratches from the both of them.

And yet, this was all his. His house. His well. His basins. His fish. His thatch baskets. His family had made a living off of this land, and so was he. As many evenings as he saw stray tentacles, as many family members told him that they were worried for his safety, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He tilted his head back, staring up at the mostly clear sky. Pale blue, with a few clouds running across it. It wouldn’t look this nice for a long time. Xain frowned; he didn’t way that matched up with his situation, but he was trying to keep an eye on a kit he didn’t understand. A very unhygienic and strange kit, at that. What would happen if his family decided to pay a surprise visit? What if he couldn’t teach the stranger how to fish? He wasn’t in the mood to head back to the village, or see how the stranger would get along with the others. If the villagers weren’t big fans of Xain, they wouldn’t like the stranger. Maybe he felt just a tad protective, but the stranger wouldn’t have been alive if Xain hadn’t gotten them out of there.

Reaching down into the basin, Xain pulled out a comb. He began to run the comb along his arms and legs, trying to smooth out the fur. It was always nice to see the knots uncurl, tangles and twists fade away, matted furs stick back up. The only thing that dampened his mood was knowing that it’d be a long time before he’d stop worrying. It had taken him years to get comfortable living on his own here; he guessed that the stranger, if they were staying around, could take as long. Or longer – even with Xain as a support, the stranger had some weird motivations. Which meant that Xain would have to face his family. And he’d faced them plenty of times, but it never stopped being scary to him. They’d never said to his face that they’d drag him back to the village if they were afraid of, but they’d never had to. He hated that.

Once he felt like most of his fur was spreading out, Xain pulled himself out of the water. He stretched, then pressed his forepaws against his back. Time for the less fun part; Xain grabbed the basin and tipped it over, spilling water onto the soil. It ran between grass blades, reaching towards the cliffs. The soil wasn’t nearly deep enough to soak much of it in, so it sat there, waiting to freeze up with the night. Xain had some less than fond memories of slipping on that ice in the past. And Xain still needed to wash all the clothes in blankets, which meant filling that basin right back up.

Fortunately, by the time Xain made it back to the house, loincloth in hand, he found the other basin pulled away from the house and tipped over. Some fur in the water also told him that Rasca had actually gone and taken a bath.

Alright. So Rasca did take the hint. Xain could work with that.

“Soil,” Xain slowly said in Rasca’s language, handing a block of earth over to Rasca.

“Soil,” Rasca said back, using Xain’s language. The fox (that’s what he liked to call himself) reached up and set the block into a corner of the house. “Block of soil.”

Xain nodded, reaching down to scoop up yet another block in the pile beside them. “Block of soil.”

Tail twitching, Rasca stepped out of the way and gestured towards a higher-up spot. “Small,” he said, gesturing to himself. “You are not.”

Perks of being a head taller. Xain set the block in place, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. They’d only been working for a couple hours, and had spent a lot of that time tearing down worn and collapsing bricks, but that corner of the house was already fitting back into place. It looked almost normal again; it would by the end of the day.

“Good?” Rasca said, looking over at Xain.

Xain nodded again. “Good.”

Rasca took the opportunity to immediately make a beeline for the front of the house. Not exactly what Xain had meant, but figuring out this whole metaphors and hidden meanings thing was a bit of a challenge. Besides, Rasca was probably going to go get his sketchbooks.

It’d been a bit of a surprised to find out why Rasca had been obsessed with that chest, but Rasca adored those books. The fox loved to make sketches of anything that caught his interest – the horizon, the house, the cove, the plains, Xain, so on. Which was why the fox was already coming back around the corner, sketchbook and charcoal in paw.

Xain wasn’t quite sure how he felt about being sketched. Rasca had shown him a couple sketches, and Xain had been pulled in by that attention to detail, the postures, the little smiles and frowns in those facial expressions. It had almost been like looking in a mirror. And yet, Xain hadn’t looked in a mirror in years. He’d seen his own reflection in puddles plenty of times (and sometimes in the cove, if the ocean was calm enough). Though he didn’t want to criticize Rasca’s art skills, Xain couldn’t help but wonder if those drawings were wrong. Were Xain’s whiskers really that long? Did Xain’s ears really taper off like that? Seeing himself on a piece of paper felt strange, especially since it reminded Xain that he hadn’t thought much about how he looked in a long time.

Oop, Rasca had started gesturing at Xain. Hoisting a block up to about the height of his head, Xain stared up at the corner of the house and tried his best to look serious. Uncomfortable or not, Xain had to admit those sketchbooks gave Rasca something other to do than eat or sleep. Other than trying to talk to Xain, but Rasca generally had to leave the bed if he wanted to find any inspiration for a drawing.

It took until Xain’s arms had just started to shake before Rasca gave a thumbs up. Or, what Xain was reasonably sure was a thumbs up. Ugh, it was annoying enough that they had to try to understand what the other was saying. All those little gestures and signs were icing on the cake. But Rasca had already started to walk away, so Xain hoisted the brick onto the corner and adjusted it so it fit nicely in place.

Plopping down on the ground, Xain crossed his legs and took a deep breath. He still wasn’t sure what to think of Rasca. They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, and they had an enormous language barrier to overcome, but Xain was starting to realize just how little he knew about Rasca. Age, for example. Xain had been convinced that Rasca was a kit, because of Rasca’s one tail. But Rasca had seemed a little confused when Xain had pointed at his tail, and that conversation had quickly turned into something about the number of summers they had both been through. From the way Rasca described it, he was only a couple summers younger than Xain. Which didn’t make any sense at all. What had happened to Rasca’s tails? Was there something wrong with Rasca that kept him from growing tails? Rasca had seemed confused when Xain had explained growing tails (possibly because Xain had done that by gesturing something moving away from his butt), so there was the chance that foxes just didn’t grow tails. A pity – Xain wasn’t far off from growing his third.

And Rasca wasn’t being honest, either. That chest was far too large to hold just those sketchbooks, but Rasca didn’t want to explain what else was in there. Xain was almost certain Rasca had stuffed the metal stick in there the moment Xain’s back was turned. When Xain had asked about it, Rasca had grimaced and said, voice a little high-pitched, that he didn’t know what Xain was talking about. Xain had tried to get it into Rasca’s head that Xain needed to know where Rasca had come from and why Rasca had ended up here, but Rasca had shut his lips and looked away. Rasca also hadn’t been keen on the idea of going fishing, which didn’t make Xain nervous at all. It wasn’t like Xain’s plan was starting to fall apart, or Xain needed outside help or anything.

They were sharing the same bed now. Xain had grown tired of sleeping on the floor, especially with as cold as it was getting, and had figured they were just familiar enough with each other that it wouldn’t make Rasca too uncomfortable. Rasca never brought that up, but Rasca definitely liked to kick Xain in his sleep. That felt a little too appropriate.

But that wasn’t quite why Xain hadn’t been getting much sleep. He’d been alone in this house for a couple years now. How was he supposed to share a bed with someone he didn’t know if he could trust or not?

“Good?” Rasca said. The kitsune turned his head to see the fox peeking around the corner.

Pulling himself up, the kitsune gestured to the blocks still on the ground. Slapping himself on the forehead, Rasca walked on over. Snatching up a block, Rasca stared up at Xain’s face and said again, “Good?”

Oops, Xain had been frowning at Rasca. Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, Xain sighed. “Good,” Xain said, though he got the distinct feeling that his smile didn’t line up with his eyes.

Rasca smiled awkwardly, but didn’t say anything; he started moving blocks over to the corner of the house. Xain followed suit, taking the blocks from Rasca, lifting them up, and sliding them into place. Silence fell over the both of them. It was an anxious silence – as simple as the work was, as quiet as the work was, as much as it brought Xain comfort by being part of his normal routine, Xain had been thinking a little too long. A question had also started worming its way through his brain.

“Rasca?” Xain said at last, setting the brick into place and staring down at the fox.

The fox winced, instinctively cradling the brick closer to his chest and hunching slightly. “Yes?” Rasca said.

Xain pointed over at the cliff. “Fish?” the kitsune said.

The fox visibly winced. Not a great sign. “Yes?” Rasca said, gesturing to the house.

Ugh, Rasca was deliberately misinterpreting him. Xain shook his head and said, “Go to cove.”

“Many fish,” Rasca said, tilting his head at the house.

“For one,” said Xain. The kitsune set a paw on his hip and frowned.

Lowering the brick he was holding, Rasca gulped. “Couple days?” the fox said, taking a step back.

The kitsune shook his head. “We need food,” Xain said, setting a paw on Rasca’s shoulder. A tad rude, but it looked like Rasca had half a mind to run away, and that wouldn’t help either of them. Fortunately, it was about then that Xain realized he had another way to persuade Rasca. If Xain couldn’t appeal to their ability to eat, Xain could appeal to Rasca’s hobbies. “Draw the water.”

Rasca’s eyes lit up. “Yes?” he said.

“Yes,” Xain said. “Go to cove, fish, draw the water.”

The light slipped away, replaced by a frown. “Fish?” Rasca said.

“No fish, I no go to cove,” said Xain.

The fox stared out towards the cliffs, biting his lip. Xain knew that there was no way Rasca would go to the cove on his own. Rasca knew what was down there – even if the cliffs, the cove, the water were gorgeous, it wasn’t worth the risk to go without someone who knew what lurked in the depths.

Still, Rasca had been more than a little stubborn the last couple weeks. With every second that Rasca looked away, Xain grew more worried that Rasca would try to go on his own. And then whatever leverage Xain had over Rasca would fall apart, because Xain wasn’t about to let Rasca head to the cove alone. And Xain got the feeling he wouldn’t quite be able to restrain Rasca either. That would only make them living in the same house even more stressful.

Fortunately, Rasca bowed his head and said, “Fish.”

Ugh, finally. Trying not to let relief show on his face, Xain nodded. “Rod?” the kitsune said, tracing out the shape of the rod.

Since Rasca began to walk over to the house, Xain figured he’d gotten the hint. The kitsune took the opportunity to snatch up the few remaining bricks and slide them in. Standing back, Xain sighed. Not the prettiest work Xain had ever done, but he could smoothen them out soon. Besides, it was his house – he could do what he wanted with it.

Walking quickly, Xain headed around the corner of the house and almost ran right into Rasca. Rasca jumped back, almost dropping the rod in his paws. Clutching his chest, Rasca took a deep breath, then handed the rod over to Xain. Not the best part.

“It’s noon,” Xain said, pointing to the sun as he walked towards the front door. Rasca quickly caught up to him, keeping pace. “Fish asleep, monsters asleep.”

That seemed to make Rasca feel a little better; the fox had stopped shaking by the time Xain walked into the house, snatched a net from where it had been lying by the baskets, and handed it over to Rasca.

After that, Xain made a beeline for the coast, with Rasca right beside him. Xain let out a quiet sigh of relief as he thought of every reason that it had been better that Rasca had agreed to go fishing. The cliffs they found themselves navigating down weren’t extremely dangerous – the path was wide enough to fit both of them side-to-side, if not comfortably, and none of the drops between the switchbacks were that steep. However, someone who wasn’t familiar with the path could easily get themselves hurt, either by tripping over a rock, slipping down the side of the cliff, or both. And Xain didn’t exactly have a lot in the way of first aid.

“Fish asleep,” Rasca said as they rounded one switchback. The kitsune looked back to see the fox dragging the net along the ground, steps slow and heavy. Hng.

“Yes,” Xain said, tugging on the corner of the net. The fox glanced back, then draped the net over himself. Xain nodded in approval. “Learn to fish, then fish.”

Hindpaws digging into the sand, Xain waited for Rasca to step onto the beach. Rasca hesitated at the edge of the rocks, nudging the edge of the sand with his hindpaws. Whatever the fox thought, it was enough for him to walk onto the beach.

Nodding, Xain walked out onto the beach. Even with the midday sun, the sand felt cool as it wormed between his claws. A faint gust whipped up the water, which formed little white caps as it crashed onto the shore. And, sure enough, the ocean was just frigid enough that Xain could already feel the tips of his claws go numb as he walked into the water. However, the kitsune didn’t notice that, since he realized that he hadn’t been hearing Rasca’s pawsteps.

Xain looked back, finding Rasca staring at a spot by the cliffs to Xain’s right. Oh, that was where Xain had left the boat, wasn’t it? Though the kitsune had the feeling he’d regret it, his eyes followed Rasca’s, catching sight of the splinters of what had once been a boat. It didn’t help that the sand was dry enough to show that the tide never went that far. Something had clearly decided to smash up the boat. Something strong, if a plank of wood resting a few feet up the cliff was anything to go by, or how a piece of one of the oars was protruding up from the sand to Xain’s left.

The kitsune wasn’t terribly surprised – even if Rasca had killed that monster, it wasn’t out of the question that some other one had been attracted to the cove by all the fish. And those monsters were usually smart enough to know that boats meant targets (they usually weren’t smart enough to know boats could also make for threats). And a monster could’ve easily smelled traces of Rasca on that boat. Poor Rasca; he’d probably been fond of that boat, if how he treated that chest was anything to go by.

“Asleep,” Xain called, gesturing for Rasca to come over.

Visibly shaking, Rasca pointed to the boat. Ugh, it didn’t look like the fox was going to move. Sighing, Xain made his way back to the shore. The kitsune wasn’t quite sure whether to place a paw on the fox’s shoulder, or give the fox a hug, or anything like that, so he decided to stop in front of the fox and repeat, “Asleep.”

The fox relaxed slightly, shoulders slumping. When he reached paw towards Xain, the kitsune took it in his own and squeezed gently. “Yes?” Rasca said, looking at Xain with wide eyes.

“Years here,” Xain said, nodding. “Yes.”

Placing his other paw on top of Xain’s, Rasca let the kitsune walk the both of them into the ocean. The fox made a small squeaking noise – a glance back told Xain that it was both the temperature of the water and the net trying to slide into it. One of Rasca’s paws shot back to readjust the net, and then Rasca tightened his grip on Xain’s paw.

It wasn’t long before the water reached halfway between their ankles and their knees (enough for Rasca to stop at one point and roll up his trousers). Deep enough; Xain stopped, gently shaking his paw free from Rasca’s. While Rasca pulled the net off and slipped it into the water, the kitsune crouched down, staring at the shifting sands around his hindpaws. Nothing hiding in the sand, as far as he could tell.

“What?” Rasca said from over Xain’s shoulder. The kitsune turned his head back, almost smacking Rasca with his snout. Just a tad too close for comfort.

Xain shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, waving for Rasca to take a step back as he rose up. Then Xain gestured for Rasca to take a few steps forward. The fox gave a couple hesitant glances, but rolled his trouser legs up a little more and made his way deeper into the water.

Rod in hand, Xain yanked the string back, throwing it forward so it landed close to where Rasca was standing. “Catch fish,” Xain said, pointing at himself, then pointing at Rasca, “Net.”

Rasca nodded. Taking a wider stance, the fox tossed the net into the water, then reached his paws down to pick it up. For a second, Rasca toppled forward – Xain gasped, but Rasca quickly yanked himself back up, net in his paws.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Xain shook his head. “Net,” the kitsune repeated, using his spare forepaw to gesture lowering the net into the water. Rasca nodded and gave a sheepish grin, shoving the net into the water and shaking it like he was trying to trap some aggressive fish. Water spraying across his clothes, Rasca looked over to Xain and tilted his head, the fox’s smile growing a little more strained.

When Xain nodded, Rasca let out a sigh of relief and pulled the net back. Swiveling around, Xain pointed to a spot on the other side from where Rasca was standing. Rasca tried to move over there, but Xain raised a paw. “Catch fish, throw fish, net fish,” Xain said to Rasca. The fox shivered, but seemed to get the point – he stayed in place.

Xain threw the string back into the water. A few seconds later, he tugged on it, then hauled it over his head. Rasca bolted after it, or as much as he could bolt in the water; he managed to kick up a good amount of sand in the process. Between that and the effort of raising the net over his head, the fox was almost distracted enough to flop into the water. However, Xain quickly grabbed Rasca by the nape of his neck. The fox growled, but took the next few steps very carefully. A few seconds later, Rasca lowered the net into the water, and Xain gave a nod.

They spent the next few hours gradually make their way across the cove, Xain picking new spots for Rasca to run to. The kitsune was genuinely surprised at how well the fox took it. In spite of the cold, how hard it was to run across the water, how much his clothes got soaked, Rasca got into the rhythms of catching fish quickly. It helped that they took a few breaks, so Rasca could run back to the shore, grab his book, and start drawing sketches. And, towards the end, Rasca looked to be in good enough spirits that Xain could teach Rasca some of the basics of using the rod himself. Which Rasca also got the hang of, though the fox wasn’t so quick about tossing the string back, and wasn’t so slow about pulling the string in. But that’d just take practice.

With the sun not too far away from the horizon, Xain found himself resting on the shoreline, propping his arms against the sand while he stared up at the sky. The clouds had started to break apart and drift away, leaving behind the pale sun and an even paler blue sky. The rod, net, and Rasca’s trousers soaked in the sunlight beside Xain, while the fox stood at the edge of the water and scribbled his surroundings. The fox looked so focused, staring at the cliff faces and the waves so intently, not even noticing the water beginning to pour over his hindpaws, that Xain was almost afraid to say something. But the kitsune did have something to say.

“Sorry,” Xain said. When Rasca blinked in looked in the kitsune’s direction, the kitsune made a gesture that the fox would hopefully interpret as Xain grabbing him by his fur.

Rasca shook his head. “Okay,” the fox said. “Not wet.”

A small pause.

“Fish tomorrow?” said Xain, voice sounding more confident than he had been expecting.

Rasca nodded. “Fish,” he said, slipping his book and charcoal back into his pocket and stepping back from the waves. The fox sat down beside Xain, crossing his legs and staring out at the horizon.

Between his small frown, the barely-visible bags under his eyes, and the way his snout twitched, the fox almost looked sad. It hurt to see that emotion on Rasca’s face. And it hurt more that Xain wasn’t sure if he could ask why. Maybe he’d find out, one of these days. At least “one of these days” didn’t sound nearly as scary as it used to. That was something.

“You can see?” Rasca said, standing at the edge of the water. Waves washed up against the soles of his boots, while sunlight began to color the white cliffs in shades of pink and purple. The fox crossed his arms and shivered, rattling the net on his head.

“All time,” said Xain, nodding. The kitsune, hindpaws in the water, stared out at the horizon ahead of them. A tad late, since the sun had just started to crest over the ocean, but they could still catch some fish. Hopefully more than usual, now that Xain had someone who could use a net. Besides, though the waves were a little rough this morning, the fog was quickly retreating in the wake of the sun. He wasn’t as worried about being on time, what with the weather better than normal.

Everything had been going according to plan. Xain had been taking out Rasca earlier and earlier every day, and they’d actually caught some fish yesterday. Rasca hadn’t been too comfortable about the whole beating the fish to death part, but Xain had tried to stand between Rasca and the fish and be as quiet as possible. There hadn’t been much more he could’ve done; it was just part of fishing for food. It wasn’t like they were going to eat their food alive. Xain had tried that once, and he hadn’t been a big fan of it.

Xain heard Rasca walk into the water behind him. The kitsune wasn’t sure if he was a big fan of the sloshing noises coming from those boots, or how slow Rasca was moving. Rasca had been more comfortable putting them on when Xain had explained to Rasca that there could easily be monsters at this time of the day, but those boots were still loud. Hng. As long as they helped Rasca stay safe. If they scared the fish away, there was always the chance they could scare the monsters as well.

Catching up to Xain, Rasca walked alongside him. “Day and day and day?” Rasca said, catching the net before it slipped off of his head.

Extending his rod, Xain nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Need food.”

“Get more food, go less?” Rasca said, stopping when Xain did.

“Idea, yes,” Xain said. Pointing to a spot in waters shallow enough to see the sandy bottom, the kitsune nodded. The fox, taking the hint, walked over to that spot. Then Xain lowered his rod, letting the string dangle over the water. It touched the water’s surface, stretching out ahead of the kitsune. And, with the rod baited (with a worm that had been squirming around by the back of the house) and prepared, they waited. Now that they were out to catch fish, Xain knew it’d take a little longer than Rasca was used to for Xain to flick the rod back, but Rasca had shown that he could handle that wait. If nothing else, it made it a little easier for Rasca to see beneath the almost-black waves. Some creatures loved to hide in the –

Something moved at the edge of Xain’s vision. The kitsune, already beginning to move back, glared down at the water around his hindpaws. He could make out his hindpaws, as well as the small clouds of sand that they picked up, but it was hard to spot anything else. Or, until the sun rose enough to illuminate the surface of the water. That tail swishing beneath the waves was unmistakable.

“Oh, sh—” Xain started, trying to turn around, but it was too late. He screamed as he felt a searing pain in his ankle. Dots splashed across his vision, arms and legs buckling and forcing him into the water. The cold ocean rushed around his ears as he struggled to prop his forepaws against the sand. He’d let go of his rod. He didn’t know where it was. His eyes tried to make out any shapes in the water, but it was all too dark and too blurry.

The kitsune almost screamed again when he felt something wrap around his waist. It took him a couple seconds to realize it was a paw – Rasca had grabbed onto him. A second later, Xain’s head popped above the water. Coughing and spluttering, the kitsune’s eyes darted around wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of anything. But Rasca held Xain’s head close to his chest, if only because Rasca was trying to carry the net, Xain, and the rod (Xain could see Rasca clutching it with his free forepaw) out of the ocean.

Xain couldn’t say anything – any words that formed in his brain never made it past his mouth, or came out as anything other than blubbering. Xain couldn’t do anything. Had he been poisoned? Was he alright? He couldn’t exactly feel his knee anymore.

The icy water gave way to sand as Rasca dragged Xain across the shallows. Grunting and groaning, Rasca tightened his grip around Xain’s chest and hauled the both of them onto the beach. Xain flopped on top of Rasca, who quickly squeezed out from underneath the kitsune and dragged the kitsune’s hindpaws onto the beach.

And screamed.

Eyes shooting over to the hindpaw in question, Xain saw blood leaking onto the sand. For a second, Xain’s heart stopped – he couldn’t move that hindpaw, and he swore that he could see bone. What little bit of sense was left in him tried to get a hold of him, reminding him that no, it couldn’t be as bad as that. As matted and blood-stained as his fur was, he couldn’t actually see any bone. A few seconds of looking later told him it was too far above his ankle to have done any significant damage. Sure, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and he knew that it wasn’t just a scratch. But he wasn’t dying. Hopefully.

Throwing the net and rod on the ground, Rasca crouched down by the injury. The fox quickly peeled his shirt off, wrapping it around the wound. Tears beginning to stream down his face, Rasca kept glancing at Xain’s face as he tightened the makeshift bandage. It was about then that Xain realized he was just a little startled.

“Okay?” Rasca half-said, half-shouted, reaching over to pull Xain’s head up. “Are you?”

“You can see?” Rasca said, standing at the edge of the water. Waves washed up against the soles of his boots, while sunlight began to color the white cliffs in shades of pink and purple. The fox crossed his arms and shivered, rattling the net on his head.

“All time,” said Xain, nodding. The kitsune, hindpaws in the water, stared out at the horizon ahead of them. A tad late, since the sun had just started to crest over the ocean, but they could still catch some fish. Hopefully more than usual, now that Xain had someone who could use a net. Besides, though the waves were a little rough this morning, the fog was quickly retreating in the wake of the sun. He wasn’t as worried about being on time, what with the weather better than normal.

Everything had been going according to plan. Xain had been taking out Rasca earlier and earlier every day, and they’d actually caught some fish yesterday. Rasca hadn’t been too comfortable about the whole beating the fish to death part, but Xain had tried to stand between Rasca and the fish and be as quiet as possible. There hadn’t been much more he could’ve done; it was just part of fishing for food. It wasn’t like they were going to eat their food alive. Xain had tried that once, and he hadn’t been a big fan of it.

Xain heard Rasca walk into the water behind him. The kitsune wasn’t sure if he was a big fan of the sloshing noises coming from those boots, or how slow Rasca was moving. Rasca had been more comfortable putting them on when Xain had explained to Rasca that there could easily be monsters at this time of the day, but those boots were still loud. Hng. As long as they helped Rasca stay safe. If they scared the fish away, there was always the chance they could scare the monsters as well.

Catching up to Xain, Rasca walked alongside him. “Day and day and day?” Rasca said, catching the net before it slipped off of his head.

Extending his rod, Xain nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Need food.”

“Get more food, go less?” Rasca said, stopping when Xain did.

“Idea, yes,” Xain said. Pointing to a spot in waters shallow enough to see the sandy bottom, the kitsune nodded. The fox, taking the hint, walked over to that spot. Then Xain lowered his rod, letting the string dangle over the water. It touched the water’s surface, stretching out ahead of the kitsune. And, with the rod baited (with a worm that had been squirming around by the back of the house) and prepared, they waited. Now that they were out to catch fish, Xain knew it’d take a little longer than Rasca was used to for Xain to flick the rod back, but Rasca had shown that he could handle that wait. If nothing else, it made it a little easier for Rasca to see beneath the almost-black waves. Some creatures loved to hide in the –

“Xain?”

Looking up from the water, the kitsune turned back towards Rasca. He half-expected Rasca to ask about how long Xain was taking, or maybe ask about making a sketch soon. Instead, Rasca appeared to be staring down in the water, shaking visibly. Ice flowed through Xain’s veins as the kitsune cause the unmistakable swish of a tail in the sand between the two of them.

Rasca tried to take a loud step back, but Xain raised a paw. “No,” Xain hissed. The fox paused, boot almost above the water. “Stay. Quiet. Boots safe.”

“Sharp,” the fox whispered back, eyes darting between Xain and the creature.

“Yes,” said Xain, nodding his head. “So, quiet.”

The next few seconds trickled by. Both eyes focused on the creature, which rotated around in the sand. It seemed indecisive, like it had spotted them both and wasn’t sure who to target. Which had to be the case. Xain slowly moved his hindpaws through the sand, trying not to get the creature’s attention. And, fortunately enough, it worked. Unfortunately enough, the creature began to twist its way over to Rasca.

The water exploded into life as Rasca, screaming, turned and began to run towards the shore. Between all the splashing, sloshing, and the sand kicked up, Xain found himself also running, all while frantically scanning the water to see where the creature had gone. He could make out his hindpaws, as well as the small clouds of sand that they picked up, but it was hard to spot anything else in the murky chaos. Or, until the sun rose enough to illuminate the surface of the water. That tail swishing beneath the waves was unmistakable.

“Oh, sh—” Xain started, trying to change direction, but it was too late. He screamed as he felt a searing pain in his ankle. Dots splashed across his vision, arms and legs buckling and forcing him into the water. The cold ocean rushed around his ears as he struggled to prop his forepaws against the sand. He’d let go of his rod. He didn’t know where it was. His eyes tried to make out any shapes in the water, but it was all too dark and too blurry.

The kitsune almost screamed again when he felt something wrap around his waist. It took him a couple seconds to realize it was a paw – Rasca had grabbed onto him. A second later, Xain’s head popped above the water. Coughing and spluttering, the kitsune’s eyes darted around wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of anything. But Rasca held Xain’s head close to his chest, if only because Rasca was trying to carry the net, Xain, and the rod (Xain could see Rasca clutching it with his free forepaw) out of the ocean.

Xain couldn’t say anything – any words that formed in his brain never made it past his mouth, or came out as anything other than blubbering. Xain couldn’t do anything. Had he been poisoned? Was he alright? He couldn’t exactly feel his knee anymore.

The icy water gave way to sand as Rasca dragged Xain across the shallows. Grunting and groaning, Rasca tightened his grip around Xain’s chest and hauled the both of them onto the beach. Xain flopped on top of Rasca, who quickly squeezed out from underneath the kitsune and dragged the kitsune’s hindpaws onto the beach.

And screamed.

Eyes shooting over to the hindpaw in question, Xain saw blood leaking onto the sand. For a second, Xain’s heart stopped – he couldn’t move that hindpaw, and he swore that he could see bone. What little bit of sense was left in him tried to get a hold of him, reminding him that no, it couldn’t be as bad as that. As matted and blood-stained as his fur was, he couldn’t actually see any bone. A few seconds of looking later told him it was too far above his ankle to have done any significant damage. Sure, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and he knew that it wasn’t just a scratch. But he wasn’t dying. Hopefully.

Throwing the net and rod on the ground, Rasca crouched down by the injury. The fox quickly peeled his shirt off, wrapping it around the wound. Tears beginning to stream down his face, Rasca kept glancing at Xain’s face as he tightened the makeshift bandage. It was about then that Xain realized he was just a little startled.

“Okay?” Rasca half-said, half-shouted, reaching over to pull Xain’s head up. “Are you?”

Xain tried his best to look a little calmer; lowering his eyelids and closing his mouth (but still gritting his teeth), he nodded.

That didn’t seem to get through to Rasca. Wrapping his arms over his head and biting his lip, the fox stared at the bandage, which had already turned a shade of dark red. Then Rasca pressed his head against Xain’s stomach, mumbling something that Xain didn’t understand. If Xain had to guess, Rasca was saying the word “sorry” over and over again. And Xain wanted to say that no, it wasn’t Rasca’s fault. Rasca had gotten scared, had flipped out over something genuinely scary, probably something he’d never seen before. The kitsune couldn’t blame Rasca for trying to run away - Rasca had even come back to help him. Xain would’ve been at the mercy of the sea and that creature if not for Rasca. But Xain was a little tired, very out of it, and having a hard time breathing with Rasca’s head on his stomach.

“Rasca?” Xain gasped, slowly pulling an arm up from the sand.

The fox glanced up, an eye visible between his arms.

“Go,” said Xain slowly.

Rasca shook his head. “Not you,” he said. Even as tears continued to pour down his face, the fox reached out to grab Xain’s arm and hold it close. At least the fox had raised his head.

Xain shook his head. “Go, home,” he said.

Glancing out towards the sea, the fox shook his head again. “No, I can’t-” he started, voice choppy.

After taking the opportunity to free his paw, Xain set it over Rasca’s mouth. “No,” Xain said, using his other arm to point in the direction of the cliffs. “Us, home.”

Rasca breathed a long, unsteady sigh of relief. He wiped a few tears from his face, then turned around to look at the rod and net. “Walk?” the fox said quietly, beginning to roll up the net as best as he could. Which, given the way it was trying to spill out in every direction, wasn’t great, but Xain wasn’t exactly in a situation to complain.

“You, yes,” Xain said. He tested out his arms and legs – both of his arms were more than a little floppy, jerking along with his heartbeat, but he could move them. His legs, on the other hand, didn’t want to cooperate. He could barely bend his knee on one leg, and he didn’t have any luck with the bleeding one. Hng. “Me? Hmm.”

Stuffing the rod into the center of the loop of net, Rasca twisted back to face Xain. “Hold?” Rasca said, picking up what he’d made and holding it out to the kitsune.

When Xain nodded, Rasca gently lowered the stick and net into Xain’s arms. The kitsune wrapped his arms around the net, the both of them immediately trying to fall apart. Gritting his teeth, he tried to focus as hard as he could on keeping his arms steady. Better yet, he could even tap into his wellspring of magic. As Rasca wrapped his arms around Xain’s chest and began to drag Xain towards the cliffside, Xain watched as a thin layer of ice formed between his forearms and the net. Not comfortable, but it worked.

“Leg?” said Rasca.

Staring down, Xain noticed the trail of blood that stretched along the sand. Far too tempting for any monsters that were lurking in the ocean, but it wasn’t like there was much they could do about it now. “Go,” Xain said.

Sand switched to rock, strong tugs turned to gentle pushes, and Rasca’s frantic breathing turned to slower pants. For his part, Xain closed his eyes and let his mind wander. It didn’t travel far – it didn’t want to think about how he was still bleeding, how cold and rough the ground was, how his leg sent jolts of pain up and down his body, how he was half-convinced he wasn’t in his body. It didn’t want to think about how scared Rasca was, how Rasca blamed himself, how Rasca had been convinced that Xain had told him to leave the kitsune to die. It really didn’t want to think about how much food he had left, how long he’d have to be in bed, what could happen if the injury got infected, if he’d have to go to his family.

Instead, he thought of laying down in bed. His sister had left a bundle of herbs the last time she had showed up. He’d completely forgotten her instructions, but those could certainly come in handy. He just needed to find a better bandage, make some kind of poultice, fall into bed, and go to sleep. If he was lucky, he could wake up the next morning and find out it had all been a dream. And he could go fishing tomorrow. Bring Rasca along, show him the ropes for another few days.

“Xain?”

The kitsune opened his eyes. They’d already made it halfway up the cliffside, and Rasca was currently trying to move Xain around one of the many switchbacks. “Yeah?”

“Good?” Rasca said.

Xain nodded his head. “Good,” said Xain.

“Good,” said Rasca. “Keep good.”

“I will,” Xain said.

“How are you today?”

Xain frowned. Head against the bedframe, he focused on his paws and tried to think of the right thing to say. “I am okay,” he said, tapping his claws together. A pause. “Thanks you.”

“Thank you,” Rasca said, nodding. The fox had pulled up a chair beside the bed, and was alternating between looking at the kitsune and scribbling in his book. “And your leg?” he said, tilting the tip of his stick (he’d called it a pencil?) to the makeshift cast lying under the bedsheet. A couple pieces of wood, Rasca’s shirt, a few ground-up herbs, and a few odds and ends lying around the house had gone into making it.

“It is, sore,” said Xain. “But better than was last day. Thank you.”

Rasca nodded. “A good to hear thing,” he said. “And yesterday.”

Xain sighed. They’d been stuck in this house for the last week, and he still couldn’t figure out basic words. And sure, languages were hard to figure out, but he’d had plenty of practice, hadn’t he? Getting Rasca to make the poultice had been a challenge all its own, to say nothing about all these conversations. He hadn’t known there was so many words to keep track of, or that those words had to be in the right order, or that there were so many ways to get those words wrong, but not exactly wrong. Like whatever Rasca had just said.

Noticing the sigh, the fox bowed his head and looked away. “How will it take?” the fox said.

“How long,” Xain replied, then paused. He stared down at his lap, focusing on something beyond the tan bedsheet and his red-orange fur. “Weeks, months, maybe.”

“How many weeks?” said Rasca, biting his lip. “You said months yesterday, so that good is, yes?”

Shrugging, the kitsune reached down and tugged at the bedsheets covering his legs. “That’s is good, yes,” Xain said. He pulled the bedsheets up, quickly focusing on the cast. Even between the planks of wood, he could still see the swelling. His ankle looked more like a grapefruit, or one of those other weird round fruits that a merchant had brought up from the south once. The red and orange had been replaced with hints of blue and purple, and it didn’t move quite like the rest of his leg did. “But I do not know. This never has happened before, and I have often been wrongs.”

Rasca tilted his head. “Not even when a kit were you? And wrong.”

“Never,” Xain repeated. “Dad did not like me going to the ocean. And when you were a kit.”

A small pause. “So, uh,” Rasca began, tapping his pencil against his sketchbook, “How much f-”

“What about you?” Xain said, dropping the bedsheet back over his legs. He leaned forward, resting his chin on a cupped paw as he looked at Rasca. “When you were a kit, what were you likes?”

The fox bit his lip. “What you were like,” said Rasca, “And we do not have any thing big to -”

Xain nodded, saying, “No, we do not. You were a kit, yes?”

“Sure,” Rasca said. His voice grew much quieter, but Xain could still recognize the word. Rasca liked to use that one when he was feeling nervous, or didn’t have anything else to say. Which Xain didn’t mind – he could talk for them both.

“So, what were you like?” said Xain. “You had a dad, yes?”

Rasca nodded.

“Did he take you and him fishing?”

Rasca shook his head. “We, did a whole lot not,” said the fox. “And no ‘and him.’”

The kitsune frowned. “You did not do a whole lot?” he said. “But do fathers not do things with their kids?”

“We just did not,” said Rasca. “He did not talk to me much. He had…strength? So he was busy often. I drew and I wrote and I read and stuff. And then happened things.” The fox’s voice trailed off.

Hmm – that had been the most Rasca had talked about himself since he’d landed here. And Xain wasn’t even sure he knew what Rasca was talking about. Strength? Rasca had hesitated when using that word, so it probably hadn’t been the right one. Maybe the right one had been one that Xain hadn’t taught him. Maybe Rasca had meant something like power? Maybe Rasca’s dad had been leader or captain? Either way, from the sound of it, Xain wasn’t the only orphan. The kitsune set a paw on Rasca’s shoulder, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “I am sorry,” Xain said. “That must hurt.”

Rasca focused on Xain’s paw. “That is fine,” Rasca said slowly. He set his pencil and sketchbook on the edge of the bed. “It was some time ago.” The fox reached out and grabbed Xain’s shoulder. “Can we try and walk you?”

Blinking, the kitsune nodded. That was a bit of segue – which was just like Rasca – but Xain could understand why Rasca would want to change the topic. Besides, all of Xain’s plans for the next couple weeks involved him walking, and he hadn’t had much success with it a couple days ago. He needed to get the hang of it again.

“We can,” Xain said. He started to shuffle around, but Rasca let go of Xain’s shoulder, grabbing his legs and navigating them over to the side of the bed (while taking care not to knock the book off). While Xain grabbed Rasca’s other shoulder, the fox wrapped his arms around Xain’s chest and slowly began to pull Xain up. The kitsune winced as he felt his injured leg creak and pop, but breathed a sigh of relief once he realized it didn’t give way. A better start than last time. A few seconds later, the kitsune found himself standing and staring down at Rasca, who moved an arm up to Xain’s shoulder. Moving to a spot beside Xain, Rasca used his free paw to gesture at Xain’s legs.

Nodding, Xain began to lift his injured leg. As shaky as it was, and as much of an odd angle as his hindpaw was, the cast did its job. He managed to raise his leg at least a few inches before his vision started getting blurry. He leaned against Rasca, feeling the fox lower Xain’s leg for him.

Then they started walking. Sure, Xain’s parents had told him that he’d had to learn to walk and all, but he couldn’t remember it. And, after that, he’d never had a hard time walking. And yet, here he was, trying to figure out how to make his hindpaw land where he wanted it to. He struggled with every other step; his hindpaw refused to cooperate, trying its best to send him toppling towards or away from Rasca. The fox had an incredible amount of patience, given the way he tugged on Xain, pushed back against Xain, and otherwise did his best to keep Xain steady.

But, before he knew it, he found himself standing in the kitchen. Panting, the kitsune blinked the spots out of his eyes as he stared out over the basin, the knife, the cutting board, the box of dried fish that Rasca had just opened –

Oh.

“How many weeks?” said Rasca, staring up at Xain.

Pinching his snout, the kitsune sighed. “One,” he said. “One and half of one, at most.”

“That is not long enough, you know,” Rasca said.

Xain let out a long breath. “I know,” he replied.

“Are you going to town? To family?”

The kitsune’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe,” he said, lowering his head.

Slowly closing the box, Rasca looked up at Xain. “Yes,” said Rasca. It was a tone that Xain wasn’t used to, but he figured it out quickly. Rasca was giving him an order.

“Yes,” said Xain quietly, watching Rasca pull himself up. Xain couldn’t help, mostly because he didn’t trust himself to keep his balance if he leaned down. It also stung a little bit that Xain had to do what someone told him, especially in his own house. Even if that other person was right.

“One week,” Rasca said, having risen back up. The fox took the kitsune’s paw and slowly began to turn him back towards the bed. “Keep walking. Your leg will then be fine?”

The kitsune closed his eyes and thought about the answer. Saying no wouldn’t be a good answer, because Rasca could easily point out that they didn’t have any food. And that didn’t leave him many options. Rasca could go to town on his own, which required Rasca to actually spend some time away from Xain, and would also attract attention from the villagers. A stranger wandering into the village, speaking a language nobody can understand while carrying a lot of Xain’s wares? If they didn’t accuse Rasca of being a thief, they would certainly make the trip to Xain’s house. Rasca could carry Xain or lead the way for Xain, but that was also asking for trouble.

“Maybe,” Xain decided on, staring at the floor. He knew that, even with time, patience, and practice, he wouldn’t be able to walk normally. However, maybe he could fake being okay. He still had some of the clothes that his oldest sister had given him. If he could fish those out from under the bed, they’d do a decent job covering the injury. He didn’t gave the guts to come up with a fake identity, but, as long as he didn’t move too much, he could probably act like it was a normal trip to the village. A random, sudden trip to the village, but a normal one.

Before Rasca could think about what Xain meant, Xain gestured in the general direction of the bed. Nodding, Rasca began to lead Xain back. This time, the kitsune felt a little more comfortable about walking across the floor. He almost had a rhythm going with his awkward, wide steps. Sure, he could see things like the fire that they’d only been lighting on really cold nights, or little bones of the fish that Xain was beginning to run out of, but those were things he could take care of later. Or, get Rasca to take care of, since the fox was sort of a messy eater.

A few minutes later, they reached the bed. As Xain took a few deep breaths, Rasca bent down and began to lift Xain’s injured leg with his free paw. The other paw was occupied with pushing Xain back towards the bed. Xain, moving his own paws back and setting them on the bed, stifled a scream as Rasca began to bend the knee on the injured leg. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Xain found himself sitting down, and not much longer for Xain to be comfortably buried in the bedsheets.

The kitsune stared up at Rasca, who turned his chair around to prop his head on the back and look right back at Xain. Now that Xain wasn’t so focused on walking, he started to realize just how worn-out Rasca looked. One of the fox’s ears twitched at random moments, he was panting very quietly, he kept blinking, and he seemed a little preoccupied with biting his lip. At one point, Rasca even slumped forward and closed his eyes, but jerked himself awake a second later. Not that Xain hadn’t noticed any of this before – it was just extremely easy to notice today.

“Sorry,” said Xain, shuffling to one side of the bed and patting the other. “These has been scary weeks, for you and for me.”

Getting out of the chair, Rasca yawned and slipped into the bedsheets. They found themselves staring at each other, faces dimly lit by the sunlight shining through the edges of the door.

“I am sorry,” Rasca mumbled. “For the wound.”

“Don’t be,” said Xain, reaching out to pat Rasca on the shoulder. Hopefully Rasca would tell that it was supposed to be a comforting gesture. “You were scareds.”

Rasca huffed, folding his arms and tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. “But boots I was wearing. I was more safe.”

“You do not know this,” Xain said. “They are very sharps.”

“What if I and you stood still?” said Rasca.

Xain shook his head. “They are smart,” he said. “You moves even when you stand still. It sees that. And I was closer, maybe.”

Rasca snorted. “I think I very still stand.” He paused, then started talking much faster. “I did not – I was not – but I moved, so you moved, so-” His voice turned breathless, and Xain could tell Rasca was beginning to panic.

So Xain reached out and pulled Rasca into a hug. “It is okay,” said the kitsune, feeling his heart start to pound. “It happened. We will make things better.”

The fox tried to mumble something, but it came out as more of a sob. And, sure enough, Rasca started crying into Xain’s chest. Xain tightened his hug, ignoring the pain as he shuffled his leg ever so slightly, or how breathless the kitsune felt. It didn’t matter – right now, they were both in a scary, dangerous, painful situation, and the least he could do was make Rasca feel a little better.

“Yes?” Rasca said, the word almost broken between a couple of sobs.

“Yes,” said Xain, beginning to pat the fox on the back.

“Thank you,” the fox stammered, pulling his away from Xain’s chest for a second. “I, not have, had a, a, a,”

“Hug,” Xain said.

The fox nodded. “A hug, in much time. I can, hug you, more?”

Pulling Rasca a little closer, Xain nodded in return. With that, Rasca threw his arms around Xain, beginning to cry again.

And they held onto each other, the hours slipping away around them.

Trampling over the short grasses that grew on the dirt path beneath him, Xain adjusted himself to keep a piece of wood roped to his back from falling off. His eyes scanning the endless sea of waist-high grass that extended to the horizon, he waited for the familiar outline of earth-brick buildings to rise up in the distance.

Bits of metal and wood knocked together in his arms, mixing with clam shells and the few odd teeth and other bones of assorted monsters. Not as much as he normally carried – he hadn’t shown up to the village in the weeks since he’d run into Rasca, but he hadn’t spent too much of that time fishing either. Partly thanks to the limp that left him half-walking, half-dragging himself across the plains.

He hated how suspicious he looked. The kitsune had tried his best to make himself normal. With a straw hat, a gray cotton shirt, and a white linen tablecloth wrapped around his waist and stretching down to his ankles, he was reasonably sure that he could hide the linen bandages still wrapped around the slightly-swollen cut. As long as he could sit down in the center of town and sell his goods, he’d be fine. But he didn’t feel like he’d be that lucky, especially since his sisters would ask him why he hadn’t been around in a while, why he was wearing the tablecloth his sister had made for him, why he looked so scrawny and pale. On top of the normal questions that they would throw at him when he would ask for bread.

A pit settled in his stomach as he picked out the flat roofs of the buildings poking out of the grass. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here. The village reminded him that he’d failed. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to take care of himself and Rasca. And now he had to face his sisters. Xain had convinced Rasca that it’d be good for them to wait until a market day, so Xain could have a more plausible excuse to show up at the village. Which was what Xain had already been doing. And he’d watched as day after day after day slipped away from him, sending him spiraling to today, to right now, to-

A clump of dirt jolted him out of his thoughts. The kitsune tripped over the clod, quickly pulling himself back before he landed face-first into the earth. His leg groaned, but he managed to keep himself upright. A few deep breaths later, Xain kept on walking.

Hng, Rasca. The fox had had a rough few days. Between the frequent practice sessions to get Xain back to walking, combined with the fish they’d had to ration as they’d waited for market day, Rasca had had more than enough reason to yell at Xain. And Rasca had. Guilt tugged at the kitsune as much as his wares did, especially since Rasca was, for the first time in a long time, alone in the house. The fox did have enough food, and Rasca probably wouldn’t get any guests, but Xain knew how much Rasca hated being alone. The fox still found this place strange.

Realizing that he’d been panting, Xain paused. He straightened himself out, letting out a couple deep breaths as the roofs in the distance grew into mud-brick buildings surrounded by an enormous circle of cut grass. Well, it’d be a little harder to hide his limp now, but he’d been expecting that. As the grass fell down to the level of what he’d been stomping on, he slowed down.

The village was nothing more than a rectangle made out of buildings shoved together, with kitsune able to walk between houses. Other than the captain’s house, none of the homes had ceilings much taller than Xain. The easier to grow flowers or plants on the roof, as a few kitsune were busy doing when Xain approached. Some paused to raise their hoes and wave to him; he waved back, flashing an awkward smile that was thankfully hidden beneath his hat.

He followed the (mostly) unused path as it wound its way towards a gap between the buildings. Other than a few large wooden stakes set to the side, there wasn’t anything or anyone of note. Everyone and everything of note had gathered in the village square. Several kitsune sat in ordered rows, shouting out prices and holding up goods. Some of the wealthier ones had brought flags, posts, or tents to mark their spaces, but most were exposed to the lukewarm midday sun. A crowd of the villagers filtered around them. Farmers and herders argued over prices, haggled, and clustered together to tell stories. From the sound of it, Xain had missed the harvest, which he was alright with. That meant his sister had had time to bake bread.

Whoop, he could see some eyes on him. Trying not to think about how many eyes, Xain moved over to his spot, which wasn’t that far from the entrance. And, out of the corner of his own eye, the kitsune could see someone already making a beeline for him. Wonderful.

“Xain!” boomed the voice of a large and muscular kitsune. The kitsune’s five tails gently rose and fell as he approached, matching his slow and deliberate footsteps. Unlike Xain, who quickly crouched down, fell back, and crossed his legs, this kitsune held his chest high, letting his green and brown robes wave around him in the light wind.

“Hi!” Xain said, flashing an awkward smile as he tried to ignore the pain that shot up through his legs. Here he was, stuck talking to the captain of the guard. The town’s leader, or as much of a leader as the town had. The oldest kitsune. The most powerful kitsune. His father-in-law. Pulling the linen over his legs, Xain set his wares on the ground. As he untied the ropes binding the piece of wood to him, he quietly said, “Looking to buy anything, sir?”

The captain laughed a deep and roaring laugh, enough to send a chill down Xain’s spine. “Not this time,” said the captain, voice quickly growing softer. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. The fishing life treating you well?”

Xain nodded.

“I mean, I do have all this for sale,” the kitsune said, sweeping his arms over his wares. He got to work arranging them, separating different types of materials and objects of different sizes, all the while glancing at the captain of the guard to see his response.

The captain of the guard nodded his head slowly, nose twitching slightly. Xain tried his best not to freeze up. Rasca had agreed to sleep on the floor the last couple of days (with a spare bedsheet and the clothes Xain had decided not to wear today, of course), but the kitsune knew he probably smelled at least a little like the fox. Not that he could be sure, since he had gotten used to Rasca’s scent a long time ago. But, when he hadn’t been used to it, it’d been strange, musky, almost pungent. If there was any trace of Rasca on him, anyone in the village could potentially pick it up. Especially the one person whose job it was to spot possible threats to his village.

“Is it just this?” the captain said, tilting his head. “You usually have pieces from the prow of a ship or some such lying around, especially this early in the day. Not as much washing up on shore lately?”

Xain internally breathed a sigh of relief – the captain was giving him an easy question. “Yep,” said the kitsune, propping his forepaws on the ground behind him and leaning back. His leg ached slightly, but he felt like he could hold this pose for a little bit. “Maybe the sailors are getting a little wiser, or nobody wants to sail around this time of year. I’ve also had to burn a few things, since it’s getting colder.”

The captain frowned. “Do you need more firewood?” he said. “I’m sure I have a few pieces lying around, and we would be more than happy to give them to you. We also just wrapped up our harvests, so I’m sure we could give you some chaff.”

Shaking his head, Xain tilted his hat forward so the captain wouldn’t see his wide eyes or the way his whiskers quaked. The captain could probably smell on the fear on him, but at least the captain wouldn’t see it. “I’m fine, thanks,” the fox said. “I have plenty of grass to burn, and my sisters gave me a lot of sheep manure last time I came here. It should be more than enough to last the winter.” The truth, for once.

“Oh?” the captain said. “Are you sure? It seems a little odd that you’d burn the wood you sell if you have plenty else to burn. It’s also been a little while since I’ve seen you, so I’d rather like to make sure you’re staying warm.”

Xain sighed. It came out a little longer and more dramatic than he would’ve liked, which matched how he felt about this conversation. “I cut up some of the grass, but it was still wet, so I decided to burn some wood and manure,” he said. “I’ve been trying to catch a lot of fish before winter started, so I don’t have to run to the village all the time again, but I’m just about done with that, so I should be good to go.” Well, Xain hadn’t ripped up the grass yet (he’d get to that later, when it was dead enough that it’d be easy to tear up), and he’d never been that good at getting a surplus of fish, but the captain didn’t need to know that.

A small pause. Xain looked up to see the captain fold his arms, expression still soft. “The fishing went well, then?” said the captain.

Trying his best to subtly bite his lip, Xain nodded. “About as well as it could’ve gone,” he said.

“You don’t fish in the winter, do you?” the captain said. He seemed to be fixated on Xain’s arms. Hng – even with all these clothes on, Xain probably looked a little paler and scrawnier than usual. “I can’t imagine you’d catch a lot of fish, or that it’d be that fun.”

Shrugging, the kitsune said, “Sometimes? If the cove freezes up, sometimes I’ll try and go ice fishing. Dad taught me how to do that.”

“Well, as long as you’re taking care of yourself,” said the captain. “Your fur looks a tad matted, and you smell a little sick, so I hope you can have a nice, long, relaxing winter, particularly after doing so much fishing. It must’ve been rough on you.”

Xain tilted his head. This conversation was just about over – he just needed to look calm for a little longer. “Yeah?” the kitsune said. “But I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.”

The captain nodded. “Understandable,” he said. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure your sister would love to see you, so I’ll send her your way.”

“Okay,” Xain said. Not that he could really disagree with that, even though he wasn’t keen on pretending to be calm around either of his sisters. They were much more blunt than the captain, and also a lot more likely to lead him around the village, which would make his limp that much more obvious.

With that, the captain turned around, robes billowing out around him. It was enough to brush against Xain’s legs and pull the linen back slightly. The captain turned his head back as Xain leaned forward, grabbed the linen, and spread it back out over his legs. “And let me know if you need anything,” the captain said. “Food, water, firewood, medicine – we have it.”

One last nod from Xain, who did his best to mask the pain in his expression, and the captain made his way back into the square, wandering among the stalls and talking with a few villagers. When he was fairly sure the captain couldn’t hear him, Xain let out a deep breath. On one hand, he’d given that conversation his best shot. He’d been as honest as he could’ve been, and had mostly succeeded in hiding the injury. And yet, he’d also managed to look strange, anxious, and suspicious. The captain knew that something wasn’t right. If he could figure that out, so would Xain’s sisters. Which could only end well.

Letting out a sigh, Xain lowered his head and brushed off the dust from the pieces of metal. He felt stupid. Here he was, dressed up in his finest tablecloth, trying his best to lie to his family. He’d been pushing this conversation off for as long as he could’ve, but he would’ve run out of food long before he really recovered. There wasn’t anything he could do, other than hope that they didn’t ask anything. Or they didn’t show up to his house. Well, it had been their house once. They’d all lived in there once. And then, after their parents had died, they’d all gone to the village.

Xain gritted his teeth. He’d hated that. He’d hated every second he’d spent crammed in between those earth walls, he’d hated every second that his sisters had talked about how warm and friendly and cozy the village was, he’d hated every second he’d had to drag a hoe through the ground while his new brother-in-law watched him. And he hated that there really wasn’t anything wrong with the village. The kitsune were nice, he could sell most of his wares, and his sisters’ families had always embraced him. It just hurt that his sisters turned their backs on the house that his parents had built, the house that they had lived in. And it hurt that they were trying to get him to turn his back. He almost wanted them to go to his house, if only so they could realize-

“Xain!”

The kitsune let out a sigh. While he gradually plastered a smile onto his face, he shuffled the plank in front of him and began to set the rest of his goods on it.

“Hey, Xain, look up!”

Doing as she asked, Xain saw his older sister moving towards him. Or, more specifically, she waved from where she was perched on her wife’s shoulder, one paw wrapped around her wife’s arm. Dressed up in a pale green dress that went down to her ankles, a brown top stretching across her chest and over to her elbows, Yisele beamed at him. Yisele’s wife, Iva, gave Xain a toothy grin. Her gray dress and red top matched Yisele’s closely (which was probably the point).

Yisele lowered her paw, tapping Iva on the shoulder. In response, Iva gently lowered Yisele to the ground. Hindpaws touching the ground, Yisele gave Iva a quick kiss on the cheek, then made a beeline for Xain. The younger kitsune tried his best to stay still, spreading out his arms as his sister approached, but no luck – Yisele grabbed him by his arms and pulled him up.

“How are you doing?” Yisele said, wrapping Xain in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Sucking in a breath as he tried to keep his one leg from buckling, Xain flashed a nervous grin at Iva. Iva, for her part, rolled her eyes, walking over and setting a paw on Yisele’s shoulder while extending the other one to Xain. Ah, Iva must’ve assumed that Yisele was hugging him too hard. Which she was.

Yisele pulled her head back, eyes darting across Xain’s face. “You look a little pale,” she said, biting her lip and frowning.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” said Xain as he shook Iva’s paw, trying not to wince at how harsh he sounded. “It’s probably just because winter’s coming up.”

Yisele’s frown grew a little wider. Letting go of Xain, she quickly grabbed and squeezed his arm. “You feel a little cold,” she said.

“It is a little cold outside,” Xain said with a shrug, after Iva pulled her paw back.

“Then we’d better get you inside!” said Yisele, back to beaming again.

Xain grimaced. About where he figured the conversation would go. “But I still have things to sell,” he said, voice a little less certain than he would’ve liked. He gestured down to the plank that Yisele was currently standing on (or, as much as he could with her still grabbing onto him).

Snorting, Yisele said, “It’s a market day for a reason, Xain. C’mon, don’t you want to cozy up by a fire?”

Well, he did, and it wasn’t like Yisele was going to take no for an answer. Still, he put on a wide grin, pointing down to the plank. “Maybe you could take some of these things off my paws-” he began, only for Yisele to turn her head back and nod at Iva.

“Could you please carry his stuff?” Yisele said, already beginning to pull Xain out of the way. With a nod of her own, Iva reached down and gently lifted up the plank.

Xain winced, feeling his leg ache again. He got the sense he wasn’t quite in control here.

As Iva walked up to her, Yisele wheeled around and said, “Okay, let’s get going!” And, with that, Iva and Yisele settled into a brisk walk, Yisele pulling Xain along with her. Which she found to be a little harder than she was expecting, what with Xain quickly falling behind her.

“Something up?” Yisele said, glancing back at Xain. Ugh, she probably noticed how he had started to pant, or how he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “I know you’re a big fan of the outdoors, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get on Iva’s shoulder or something?”

Iva let out a deep laugh. “There’s only one kitsune who has that privilege” she said, gently bumping against Yisele. Which, of course, jostled Xain. Ugh.

“He could always get on my shoulder,” Yisele said, pulling her head up and smiling. “I’m almost a warrior now, Xain – I’m growing my third tail.”

Trying not to think about all the villagers that were staring at him, or all the kitsune in the stalls who stopped talking as they passed, Xain looked a little farther down. Sure enough, poking out from Yisele’s dress was the start of a third tail, a nub compared to the two that waved around.

“You’re already getting yours?” said Xain, looking back up at Yisele. Her grin grew just a little wider. “But, we’re twins, aren’t we?”

Yisele ran a paw through her fur. “Perks of being born first,” she said.

Sighing, Xain stared up at the large earth building looming in front of him. A whole two stories tall (even ignoring the small garden on top, which was mostly a few vegetables his sisters grew as a surplus) it towered above its neighbors. Nobody stared back him through the holes carved into the walls on the second floor. His older sister probably already knew he was here, but at least there was one pair of eyes that wasn’t focused on him.

A hush ran its way through the marketplace as Xain, Yisele, and Iva made their way past the stalls. Everyone knew something was up with him. They were watching his every move, fixating on every facial twitch, focusing on every awkward step. Not that his sisters had ever told them something was off about Xain – they would’ve thought that was inappropriate, especially since they felt it was their responsibility to keep him on the right path. But this was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone else. Even someone like him, someone who had left the village, couldn’t escape the rumor mill, couldn’t just come and go and be ignored. Especially not when his sister was married to the head of the guard’s daughter.

Walking up to the building’s oak door, Yisele gave it a few loud knocks (or, loud in the quiet that had settled over everyone). While Iva stopped beside her wife, Xain tried his best to hide behind Iva.

A few seconds later, the door creaked back slightly. “Yes?” came a lower-pitched, quiet voice.

“Vera!” Yisele said, grabbing Xain and yanking him towards the door. While Xain bit his lip (enough to draw blood) and tried to compose himself, Yisele beamed. “You’ll never guess who decided to show up!”

The door swung back, revealing a short kitsune in a blue frock, a red ribbon around her waist. A fire seemed to flash in her eyes, highlighting the row of scars that ran down her snout, pointing out the faint snarl on her face, illuminating the way her ears rose up as she focused on Xain. Of course Vera could guess who decided to show up – there wasn’t much Vera couldn’t guess. She always had a knack for reading the room, picking up on gossip and rumors, telling truth from fiction, staring at someone until they gave something away. And Xain always gave something away.

“Goodness, you look cold, Xain,” Vera said after a couple seconds, stepping out of the way and gesturing into the house. “Come in, come in.”

After setting Xain’s goods down by the door, Yisele and Iva darted into the house, almost sprinting towards the fireplace in the back. The head of the guard had never been interested in decorating, so the two didn’t have to worry about running into anything. Blankets and rugs scattered the wooden floor, with a few chairs arranged around the fire. A staircase winded its way around the walls, vanishing through the wooden ceiling. The smell of leather and metal dropped down from the ceiling, almost buried beneath the scent of freshly-baked bread and burning flax. Xain could figure out where that was coming from right away – a couple tables in one corner of the building, with a few thatch boxes stuffed underneath, along with a half-filled basin marked the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Xain couldn’t glance around for much longer; he felt a pair of paws fall onto his shoulders, and then Vera pulled his head down so she could look him in the eyes.

“You’re very pale,” Vera said, tugging at one of his cheeks. While Xain winced, Vera shook her head. “You haven’t been eating much.”

“Nice to see you too, Vera,” said Xain, bitterness starting to creep into his voice. “How are the kits doing?” Beyond Yisele and Iva starting to wrap themselves in blankets and scooting closer to the orange fire that blazed in the fireplace, Xain swore he could hear the sounds of kids playing.

Vera sighed. “They’re very eager to help out with the cooking and knitting these days,” she said, not letting go of Xain. “Too eager, I’d say.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to do things by yourself anymore,” said Xain.

Narrowing her eyes, Vera replied, “If they were listening to me, sure, I’d be fine with it.”

Xain snorted and tried to pull himself away. To his (hopefully not visible) surprise, Vera let him, shifting her paws to her hips and glaring up at him. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he figured he’d find out soon. “We definitely listened to mom and dad when we were kits,” Xain said.

“But we learned quickly enough,” Vera said, tapping a hindpaw. “Or, some of us did. What on Fayne are you wearing, Xain? Is that one of my tablecloths?

And here it was. Xain raised a claw and tried to speak, but could only get as far as “I-” before Vera started talking over him.

“Do you even wear the clothes I’ve been giving you? You haven’t been taking them apart, I hope – the weave on your shirt is looking just a tad frayed” – Vera grabbed Xain’s shirt, staring down at the fabric for a couple seconds before looking up at him – “And it’s almost winter, so you’re lucky I’ve been knitting some sweaters for you. Haven’t you been thinking about going to the village for the winter?”

Xain shrugged. “I can still get some fishing done, and I should have plenty of things to burn.” Not that that’d satisfy Vera – she was still going to dump clothes on food on him anyways – but, at this point, making Vera happy wasn’t his top priority.

“You really should,” said Vera, gesturing to all of the blankets. “Some of the elders say it’s going to be especially bad this year, and we’ve been moving most of the farmers into town. I won’t forgive myself if I found out you froze to death in that shack-”

“I know what I’m doing,” Xain growled. Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, he tried to ignore the fact that he’d just yelled at his sister. And his sister had never liked being yelled at. “If things feel like they’re going to get bad, I’ll head right over. I live by the sea – I should be able to tell if anything’s coming in.”

Vera narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Dad liked to think that too,” she said. “And I remember all the night we spent huddling around the fire, trying not to freeze to death.”

Of course. She had to go there. Not that Xain could say anything back; she was already starting to walk over to the thatch boxes under one of the tables.

“Well, I’m sure this bread should help you survive the winter,” Vera said, setting a paw on the table as she crouched down and reached for the nearest box. She glanced back at him, lips tight. “Assuming you’re alone, that is.”

Xain rolled his eyes. “I should be fine, Vera,” he said, trying hard to tamp down the nervous twitch that threatened to pop up on his face. Or the smell that started to emanate from the tip of one of his tails. “And why would think I’m not alone?” He realized that made him sound a little bit lonely, but, frankly, better to be alone than be with his family.

Grabbing the box, Vera pulled herself up. “Just something I heard,” she said with a voice that was a little too innocent. “You smell a tad funny, is all.” She extended the thatch basket to him.

“It was a cold,” Xain said, taking a step back. “I got it a couple days ago. That’s why I look a little pale.”

“And why you’re having trouble standing still, obviously,” said Vera, gesturing to his legs. “And why you didn’t seem like a big fan of walking earlier.”

Glancing down, Xain almost cursed. He hadn’t been paying attention, but yep, his bad leg was wobbling slightly. As if making sure he got the hint, his ankle gave him a little jolt of pain. “Yes, obviously,” said Xain, glaring at his sister as he took the box from her arms and pulled it close to his chest. “And I’ll give you this bread after winter ends.”

Vera snorted. “Please, I would certainly love moldy bread,” she said, staring directly into Xain’s eyes. “Maybe it’d smell as fishy as you do.”

Raising his chin, Xain replied, “Yes, I’m a fisherman, and I’m doing my job. Thanks for asking.”

“You know exactly what I meant,” Vera snarled. “I’m not smelling your pathetic little hobby.”

“Yep, you’re smelling my job,” said Xain.

Vera pointed to the wooden plank next to the door. “Your job doesn’t seem like it’s been working out so well for you these days,” she said. “And you certainly don’t sound sick, or I would’ve thrown your a** out of here a long time ago.”

Ugh, she had a point. “I can sneeze for you, if it helps,” Xain said, a malicious smile creeping onto his face.

“Yes, because I’m definitely afraid of you,” said Vera. If it wasn’t for the paw that tapped her shoulder, she would’ve likely come up with a sarcastic remark. Or probably made a comment about his injury. Or both – she could do both. Instead, Xain and Vera found themselves staring back at the tall, lanky kitsune who had walked up from behind Vera. Wearing brown pants and no shirt, Vera’s husband, Sive, towered over them both. Xain could almost see the muscles ripple in Sive’s fur as Sive reached up and tipped back his broad thatch hat. Which made Sive’s quite voice that much more out of place.

“Neighbors want to talk to us ‘bout somethin’,” he said, looking down at his wife. “Somethin’ about our daughter gettin’ their kit to eat somethin’ that made ‘im throw up.”

Even more out of place was the way Vera calmed down. She had been so close to clenching her fists, had had a bit of a hunch, had been straining to keep her voice steady. With a breath, she straightened out and composed herself. Not without shooting a glare at Xain, of course. “I’ll go talk to them,” she said with a huff, walking around Sive and vanishing through one of the entranceways that connected the house to its neighbors.

Internally, Xain sighed in relief. Vera had been getting extremely aggressive; he’d been half-convinced that she’d been a second away from pulling up the tablecloth and exposing the injury. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, since Sive was probably also suspicious, but he wasn’t as hostile as Vera was. Probably because he technically wasn’t family.

“Xain,” Sive said with a nod.

Xain nodded back, moving his good leg so he wasn’t stuck in an awkward position.

“How’s the fishin’ goin’?” Sive said, throwing his arms back and crossing them behind his head. It was a little interesting parsing Sive’s accent – his family had come in from out of the village, and Sive had only adjusted to the village tongue a couple years ago. His accent only popped up when he was nervous.

“Pretty good,” Xain said with a shrug. “Could be better. How’s the farm?”

Sive tilted his head, grimacing slightly. “Same ol’, same ol’,” he said. “Harvested a little late, but not much I coulda done ‘bout it.”

Hng. Hopefully Vera hadn’t packed as much bread into this box, or Xain was going to have (some more) words with her. “Yep,” Xain said. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way you want to.”

That grimace grew a little bigger. “Yeah,” Sive said, looking away. A pause. “Y’know, if ya need any kinda help, we can always-”

Xain raised a paw. “I think I’ve got things under control,” he said.

“Sure, sure,” said Sive. He raised a claw and tried to say something, but it never came out. With a sigh, he stretched out a paw and set it on Xain’s shoulder. “An’ you can tell me if ya don’t? I know yer sisters are kinda pushy, ‘cause they care ‘bout ya an’ all, but I know it sucks ta tell things ta family.”

Shrugging slightly, Xain watched as Sive let go. “It really is fine,” said Xain. “This bread should help out, but I’m pretty confident I can catch plenty of fish before the weather gets bad. And go ice fishing after it does.” Well, Sive had a point – it was a lot easier to admit that the bread was a nice gift to someone who wasn’t his family. Especially when his family despised his job.

“Can ya do that?” Sive said, tilting his head. “Vera said yer dad brought ya down ta shore a couple times, and ya used to slip and fall on yer-”

“Vera says a lot of things,” Xain replied, gritting his teeth.

Sive shook his head. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, staring down at the ground. “Was speakin’ outta line there.” He paused, then looked back at Xain. Xain was a little surprised at how big Sive’s eyes were, the frown on Sive’s face. “It ain’t none o’ my business what ya do, but they’re worried ‘bout ya. I’m worried ‘bout ya. Don’t tell ‘er this, but I don’t like how Vera treats ya.”

The fur on the back of his neck starting to prick up, Xain took a step back. “We’re just siblings?” he said, shrugging as he tried to ignore the pain (why did he keep bringing this on himself?). “That’s just what we do.” As uncomfortable as he was, he could still remember that Sive was an only child.

“But yer just tryin’ to make a livin’ doin’ what ya can,” said Sive. “Ya know my mom used ta tend to the fields. And ya did too, for a little while there. Can’t say I blame ya for cuttin’ ties and headin’ back to yer parents house.” He sighed. “But I dunno if I like the idea that yer gonna be all alone when winter comes.”

Xain took in a deep breath. Part of him wanted to be honest, say that he was scared, tired, frustrated, was trying to take care of a houseguest when he couldn’t even take care of himself. But the rest of him knew that Sive could just as easily tell Xain’s sisters. Xain didn’t entirely trust Sive – the other kitsune was the bridge between Xain and his sisters, which meant Sive wasn’t exactly on Xain’s side. And Xain wasn’t about to hear anyone tell him to leave his house.

“I’ve done it before,” said Xain. When Sive visibly sagged, Xain looked away. “And I can do it again.”

An unsteady silence dropped over the both of them, broken only by the sound of Yisele shuffling and shifting where she sat on her wife’s lap.

“Coming over, Xain?” Yisele called. “The fire’s getting pretty warm.”

Saved by his sister. Nodding his head in Sive’s direction, Xain made his way over to Yisele and Iva. And, internally, Xain counted down the minutes until he’d get out of this town. He could longue around for a little bit, probably pretend to fall asleep (and make sure nobody decided to check his injury), then head on out and go back to selling. Then he could pack up his things, say some final goodbyes (and dodge some comments from his sisters), and make his way back home. Back to Rasca.

Xain slowly lowered himself in front of the fireplace, taking care to adjust his tablecloth so it didn’t expose his ankles. He soaked in the warmth and felt it run up his fur, caress his face. He was fine. He’d gotten through the worst of it. He’d ripped off that bandage, and now he could start to settle down. And all it had taken had been getting off his butt and going to the village. He had to thank Rasca for that.

Well, he’d be seeing Rasca soon. Ideally. The fox had food, water, and shelter – he could take care of himself, couldn’t he?

As Agneta adjusted the straps of her backpack, particles on her rocky skin glittering in the sunlight, she couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was wrong. The fire that hissed as she breathed in and out was the only noise she could hear – even the faint wind that blew through the dying grasses was barely more than a whisper. She could’ve sworn that the kitsune she was paying a visit to would’ve been out and about by now. Especially at this time of year.

Wading through a sea of brown and green, she trampled the grass beneath her enormous rocky feet as she stared out towards the white cliffs on the horizon. Ah, this time of year. Winter had always been a strange concept to her. She’d never felt cold. The fire in the hollows of her eyes had kept on burning, as had the fire in the back of her mouth. Sure, they’d dimmed sometimes, but she’d always sated them with some grass, coal, or rock. Her body was exceptionally good at burning things, and there’d always been things to burn. It was odd to be around creatures that couldn’t do the same thing.

On the bright side, those creatures always had things to sell. She’d already gone to a few of her regular trading spots; her backpack bulged with trinkets, metal and wood, coal, and little mechanical contraptions. They clinked together as she walked, accompanied by the string, planks, and the other odds and ends that she liked to sell to one of her favorite fishermen. Who didn’t appear to be around, if the lack of smoke coming out of the house that appeared in the distance was anything to go by.

Not that that was especially strange. Sometimes, Agneta would wander in to find that Xain had gone to the market. She never minded that, since she could always stay around his house until he came back. No, what was especially strange was that the grasses continued to creep up to her waist. Xain should’ve cut them by now. The grass started getting shorter the more his earth house came into view, but that’d been from past cuts. She couldn’t see any debris.

She kept walking. There was always the possibility something had happened to him. Between the sea monsters and the tigers, he’d always been at a dangerous place. If he was dead, so be it – she could probably search his house for anything of worth, and then move on. She couldn’t expect to be good at her job if she didn’t have to deal with dead people. Death was just the nature of things, and she’d gotten used to it a long time ago. At least, having a bulky rock body made her life a little better, since there weren’t that many things foolhardy enough to pick a fight with her. Agneta huffed. If Xain was dead, she’d obviously let his family know. She wasn’t a monster.

As Agneta stepped closer to the house, she tried to spot anything else out of the ordinary. Xain had always told her he could smell her coming, but she didn’t have a nose of her own. Her ears weren’t all that great either – in a wind like this, they whistled over any other noise. The most she could work with was her eyes, which caught a few strands of fur caught between some of the grasses. Probably just Xain shedding. If there’d been a fight, she’d have seen a lot more trampled, cut up, maybe even some blood. Assuming that any fight had been recent, or outside of the house.

She blinked. Agneta found herself in front of the door, a weathered chunk of wood surrounded by blocks of earth. She tried to look through the gaps all along the door’s edge, but couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. A glimpse of the fireplace, the basin in the kitchen. It all looked untouched, clean as Xain could make it. She was a little less convinced there’d been a fight. Hopefully.

Taking a deep breath, Agneta knocked on the door. It creaked slightly, but the rusted metal hinges kept it in place. “Xain?” Agneta said.

The silence was deafening. While Agneta didn’t necessarily feel nervous, a pit settled in her stomach. Xain was supposed to be up by now. As far as she could tell, nothing had happened, but she wasn’t sure how to take the disappearance of one of her regular customers. Even living by the coast, he’d always seemed to be doing okay. And, well, he’d always had interesting things for sale. This was supposed to be a regular visit, and she’d been looking forward to it. She’d even brought some tea.

Raising a rocky fist again, she hesitated. She could’ve sworn she heard pawsteps inside the house. That suspicious was only confirmed when she saw something block her view of the fireplace, and the way the door creaked as something tried to lean against it.

Hng. “Is that you, Xain?” Agneta said again. Her voice sounded coarse, especially as she tried to figure out the hisses and growls that went into the kitsune language.

A few seconds of silence. “You are who?” came an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the door. Agneta almost jumped back in surprise. That wasn’t Xain. Even if he had gotten sick, his voice wouldn’t sound that unsteady, that unconfident. Whoever was talking to her was scared of her, though. And she could work with that.

“Who are you?” Agneta said, grabbing onto the rusty piece of metal that served as a door handle. She got the feeling she could easily pull it back, but she wanted to know what the situation was first. Agneta wasn’t keen on terrifying some harmless stranger, even if they were a stranger.

“Asked first, me,” said the voice. Wow, and Agneta thought she wasn’t all that fluent. She had trouble getting her voice to cooperate, but they sounded a little too slow and deliberate. And they got a word wrong.

That didn’t necessarily mean anything, since it was much stranger that Xain would let anyone stay in his house. Especially if he wasn’t around. Sighing, Agneta gave the door a slight tug. Just enough to let the stranger know she meant business. After she heard a yip on the other side, she said, “I’m Agneta. Where’s Xain?”

Another pause. “What you want with him?” said the voice, now a little surprised. The stranger recognized Xain. Agneta internally breathed a sigh of relief – that wasn’t a bad sign. Or, not guaranteed to be one.

“I want to buy from him,” said Agneta. “And you never answered my question.”

The voice huffed. “In town, he is,” said the voice. “He told me to let not any in.” Silence. “I am, Rasca, also.”

Nope, not anyone Xain had ever talked about before. Agneta tilted her head. “Not even me?” she said.

“He not said your name,” said Rasca. They started pressing against the door a little harder. “Go you can to town, yes?”

Hmm. There was always the possibility Xain hadn’t been expecting Agneta to come. He had always been particular about who could go into his house, so it wasn’t exactly a strange request. But Agneta wasn’t sure she trusted Rasca enough to go to the village. Without Xain around, she was relying on the word of someone she had just met. Granted, Rasca had just met her for the first time, and they might’ve been a little suspicious of her. But Rasca and the condition of the grass were just a little too coincidental. “Sure,” said Agneta, realizing she’d been quiet for a little too long, “But I can also wait for him? I’m sure he’ll-”

“Go to village,” said the voice, with a surprising amount of force. “He is there, he help you can.”

Agneta was tempted to press on the door handle a little harder, but hesitated. If Xain was still alive, he wouldn’t appreciate her breaking his door. Besides, she figured she could handle this will a little more subtlety.

“Fine,” she said, letting go of the door handle and taking a step back. She turned around, making a couple of the loudest steps she could. Throwing her head back, she continued, “I’ll go to town. If he isn’t there, I’m coming back.”

When Rasca didn’t respond, Agneta tromped off. She figured that she could duck into the grass and try to hide herself. Staying quiet would be a challenge, but maybe Rasca would end up revealing themselves, or Xain actually would return.

So she froze when she heard Rasca’s voice after she took a couple steps. “What you buy?” said Rasca, voice almost muffled by her footsteps.

Agneta turned back. “What do you have for sale?” she said.

In response, Agneta heard the sounds of someone fumbling their way through the house. The stranger cursed as they grabbed onto sounded like some large object, which they dragged across the floor (oof, Xain wouldn’t like that). Then they heard the sound of something unlocked, followed by a chest’s lid being pulled back.

“Papers with places?” said Rasca, opening the door a tiny amount. That was enough to send Agneta walking over to them.

“You mean maps, right?” Agneta said. As she got closer to the door, she tried to peer through the gap to catch a glimpse of Rasca. She tried not to gasp or flinch when she stopped in front of the entrance. Agneta wasn’t convinced she was looking at a kitsune. Kitsune weren’t supposed to be that short, or that orange, and that single tail curled behind Rasca was also out of place. It’d make some amount of sense if Rasca was a kit, but kits didn’t look so scraggly. And they sounded a little more like they were adjusting to language, instead of having grown up with it. Maybe this was a group of kitsune she hadn’t heard about?

Rasca nodded their head. “Yes, those,” they said. The sound of ruffling paper whistled through Agneta’s ears, and then Agneta saw Rasca dangle a map over the grass. “Look.”

Stretching out a rocky palm, Agneta let Rasca drop the map into her hand. She slowly pulled her arm back (she’d had plenty of practice not crumpling maps), then peered down at the paper. It looked like a sea chart. The level of detail got worse from right to left, but she could get the general idea of what part of the world this was. At first. And then she had less of an idea.

“That, doesn’t make sense,” Agneta said slowly, looking up at Rasca as she pointed to the right side of the map. “That shouldn’t be there, it shouldn’t-”

“It does,” Rasca growled. They gripped onto the door with one paw, showing off grimy claws. “There it is.”

Agneta huffed. On one hand, she couldn’t help but admit that some of the details were uncannily accurate. Some of the islands in the middle made sense, and, if that scale was anything to go by, the distances were about on point. And, well, it’d go a long way in explaining why this short kitsune was in Xain’s house (not that that necessarily suggested Xain had, say, let them in). On the other hand, a stranger offering her a strange map was just a tad suspicious. Especially if it was for a price, which she suspected it was. “Prove it,” Agneta said, setting her free hand on her hip. “I don’t want to pay for a fake map.”

“Not pay,” Rasca hissed. Letting go of the door, they raised a claw. “A second.” Then they disappeared back into the depths of the house, complete with more rattling, shaking, and cursing. After about a minute, the kitsune’s paw appeared again. This time, Rasca held some kind of circular, gold-colored piece of metal. Holding out her other hand, Agneta let Rasca drop the piece onto her palm.

When she held it closer to her face, after setting the map on the ground and using that hand to flip it a few times, she felt the fire inside her grow a little stronger. She recognized it – it was an astrolabe. She’d only seen a few of them, but some of the larger ships liked to bring those when traveling to those islands far off the coast. Except she’d never seen one as intricate as this. And she wasn’t just thinking about the spirals and curves that she spotted winding their way around the front and back of the astrolabe. It felt stable, steady, secure in her hands. The gears looked a little more complicated, the angles a little more precise, the design a little more advanced.

Yes, she could make a lot of money off this. Even if it was fake, a couple taps told her it was metallic enough that she could probably pawn it off. Bend the truth a little bit, if she needed to.

“Not pay?” said Agneta, reaching down to pick up the map again. Now she could say she felt a little more confident about it. She tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice, but it snuck in with her hesitance.

Not that Rasca appeared to notice. “No pay,” Rasca repeated. The short kitsune reached out a claw, tapping the right side of the map. “Go here. Someone tell, here I am.”

If Agneta had eyebrows, she would’ve raised them. “That’s all? Really?” she said. Well, that wasn’t exactly all. Assuming that Rasca wasn’t trying to get her killed, it would take a fleet to get across the ocean. All the monsters along the way, the islands scattered few and far between, the hostile animals that sometimes preyed on sailors, all for the promise of she hadn’t even know existed until now? Hng. Maybe the map and the astrolabe were forgeries, but Rasca had put a lot of time and effort into them. And it seemed a little strange that they’d convince Agneta to do something so risky. Rasca didn’t know who she was (as far as she could tell). There’d be plenty of easier ways to get rid of her, if that was what they wanted. Unless they were trying to distract her from thinking about Xain. Which wouldn’t work.

Rasca nodded. “Yes,” they said. A pause. “And tell not Xain.”

Agneta narrowed her eyes. Huh, it didn’t seem like he wanted to distract her. “Why shouldn’t I tell Xain?”

As the kitsune started handing out more pieces of paper, their voice grew quieter. “It is not important.”

On instinct, Agneta grabbed the papers. More charts, more maps, even some notes. Not that she recognized the script – it wasn’t anything like what she’d even seen before. Way too flowery. Not that it mattered, since the drawings provided plenty of context. “Why isn’t it important to Xain?” said Agneta.

“It matters not to him,” Rasca said slowly.

Agneta set down the assorted papers and the astrolabe on the ground. Pulling her backpack over her head, she laid it down beside them, taking care to keep any of other goods from slipping off. The clink of metal almost drowned her out, so she had to raise her voice as she began rolling up the maps and stuffing them into her backpack. “Doesn’t he own this house?” she said.

“Yes,” said Rasca, handing over a few more papers. They moved back into the house, their voice trailing behind them. “But he wants me safe, and I want to go.”

Well, she couldn’t disagree with that – outside of what they had for sale, Agneta preferred Xain’s hospitality to Rasca’s lack of it. But, if Xain really wanted them to stay (which didn’t sound wrong for Xain, even though he’d barely been able to take care of himself), Agneta didn’t exactly like Rasca’s plan. She started shoving the last few maps into her backpack.

“And what happens when I tell this someone?” said Agneta, staring up at Rasca. The fire inside her almost growled as she narrowed her eyes.

“Get me they will,” Rasca replied, pulling back the door. It slid against the earth walls, settling into place before creaking Rasca began to lean against it again.

Setting the astrolabe into the backpack, Agenta paused. Was he trying to pull even more things out of the chest? “What if they come and Xain still doesn’t want you to leave?” she said, an anger settling in her that she hadn’t even realized she’d had. “Why are you even here in the first place?”

Silence. The rustling of paper came as Rasca shoved a few more notes under the doorframe, followed by a few pieces of metal. Agneta shuffled closer, looking at the golden sheen of what had all the fancy detailing of the astrolabe. Other equipment, possibly? Given how flat they were, and how she could spot notches carved in regular intervals along them, they almost resembled rulers. Well, rulers that she could fit together, along with a lens.

“Just do it,” said Rasca, voice quiet. And not because of the door. “That is the deal.”

With that, Agneta got the impression that the conversation was over. A huff later, she fit the rest of Rasca’s stuff into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and began to walk off. She glanced at the house after every couple steps, hoping that Rasca would do something else. Based on the way the door bulged, Rasca clearly hadn’t stopped leaning on it. Ugh.

Part of her wanted to turn around and see if she could smash the door open, but she didn’t feel like that would be helpful. Rasca had told her that Xain was in the village. She didn’t necessarily know if they were being honest to her, but she didn’t have anything to lose. If Xain was in the village, wonderful. If not, chances were Rasca had killed Xain before she’d gotten there.

Agneta clenched her fists as the fire roared inside her. The grass that rose up to her waist hissed and singed as she made her way through it. She didn’t want to think about Xain’s death. But Rasca had looked way too strange, his maps hadn’t made much sense, and what little she could get of his backstory had been cryptic. Like it or not, she liked Xain. In a business where she didn’t want to get emotionally attached to her customers, he was the closest thing to a friend she had outside of her hometown.

Well, if Xain really was fine, that raised a completely different set of questions. It was possible that Rasca had been lying about those maps, but part of her wanted to believe they were genuine. Otherwise, they’d thrown away a lot of time and effort to get rid of her. Why would they waste a fancy-looking astrolabe and a pile of maps on her? She was fairly sure she wasn’t the only one who came to Xain’s house.

She stared ahead. A path stretched out in front of her, the grass parted and trampled by something else. One of the conversations with Xain flashed through her mind; he’d been pointing in this direction when he’d talked about the village, hadn’t he? Agneta doubled her pace. If Xain was alright, those maps could be real. And, if they were real, and she could find a fleet willing to take her across the ocean, she’d be hailed as a hero.

It wasn’t every day someone found an entirely new continent.

******

It took an enormous amount of willpower to keep Xain from throwing the basket his sister had given him aside as he speed-limped his way back to his house. His heart almost leaped out of his chest as he followed the path of trampled grass Agneta had made, keeping an arm firmly over the basket’s lid. He didn’t want to lose any of the bread and clothes he’d gotten from his sisters, or the metal trinkets and flint he’d exchanged his whole stock for with Agneta. Even if it would get him back to Rasca faster.

Shallow breathes sputtered out of him as the grass began to get shallow and shallower, his house quickly rising into view. Xain’s heart skipped a beat – it looked perfectly fine. Door closed, walls still holding together, nothing out of place. Maybe it would’ve been better if something had been. Maybe that would’ve helped the sense of dread that had settled in his stomach.

He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Agneta showing up to the village had been something of a surprise, since Xain hadn’t been expecting her for another week or so. And that was before she’d pulled him out of the way and told him that Rasca had handed her a bunch of strange maps and navigation tools. Xain was sure it’d come off as incredibly suspicious when he’d told his family that he’d had to leave, had made up some explanation about a wall staring to cave in, and had run off as soon as he’d gotten that basket from Vera. But if Rasca wasn’t being so secretive about that chest anymore, something must’ve gone wrong.

Was it Xain’s fault? As the kitsune made his way over to the door, ignoring the screaming pain in his leg, he couldn’t help but think it might’ve been. He’d been the one pushing off going to the village. He’d been the one fighting with Rasca. Maybe Rasca had gotten convinced that Xain wouldn’t come back with food, that Xain would ultimately not confront his sisters. But Xain had been so scared, and so frustrated, and-

Xain pushed the door in. It rotated back, revealing the inside of his house.

The fire dead, like normal. The fish strung up and hanging over the ashes, like normal. The blanket spread out (almost) neatly over the bed, like normal. The basin empty, like normal.

But the house was empty. Rasca had left.

The kitsune stood there, eyes darting from corner to corner. Maybe he’d missed something. Maybe Rasca was hiding under the bed, or behind the chest, or outside of the house. Maybe Rasca wanted Xain to think he was gone. It was working; Xain felt his fur stick up on end with every second that he leaned against the door, breath faintly fogging up in the air. And sure, that would be cruel on Rasca’s part, but Xain couldn’t help but feel like he deserved that.

Xain took a minute to build up the courage to look closer. Letting out a shaky breath, he set the basket on the bed, then stared past it. His heart skipped a beat; the chest was still open. The kitsune reached out a paw, grabbing the lid of the chest and slowly pulling it back. His nose wrinkled at the musty smell that rose out of it. Just like that sketchbook, but stronger. Blinking tears out of his eyes, Xain quickly recognized that the chest was empty. Even in the shadows that littered the pieces of lacquered wood (he hadn’t seen lacquer in years, but he’d never forgotten the smell), he couldn’t see any trace of tools, instruments, paper. And, well, Rasca could’ve fit in that chest, but there obviously wasn’t a fox in there.

Gently shutting the chest, Xain reached down and tugged at the edge of the mattress. He knew there wasn’t any point in doing that – that mattress couldn’t hide a pebble without a few bumps showing up – but he needed the confirmation. Nothing other than a few yellow and orange furs.

Xain sucked in a breath as he let the bed go. Then he laughed as he eased himself onto the straw mattress, wrapping the box in his arms. It was a quiet, bitter laugh, one that didn’t reach his eyes, which stared off into space.

He should’ve listened. He should’ve left sooner. He’d made Rasca uncomfortable, he’d caused the both of them to go hungry, and all because Xain had been afraid. Rasca had been patient, Rasca had helped walk him around, Rasca had tried his best to tolerate Xain’s panicking and rambling. But Rasca had hit his limit, had finally given up, and now Xain was alone again.

As he clutched onto his basket, the last of the warmth he’d gotten from the fire gradually seeping into the blanket and the mattress, Xain realized that he didn’t want to be alone.

Xain had long ago lost track of how long he’d been spending curled up in bed. He’d barely moved as the sun had set, the moon had risen up, pale light had radiated into his house. The kitsune kept his arms firmly on the basket, shivering as the wind howled outside. Part of him swore that he could almost hear Rasca’s voice, that he was still holding Rasca, that tonight was just another calm and relaxed night while they hid away from the elements. He could almost imagine seeing the fox in the blue and green shapes that blurred and whirled together in front of his eyes.

The kitsune knew that he was tired, that he was seeing things, that he was hearing things, that his mind was trying to distract him from how his stomach rumbled and how the cold had settled in his bones. But it was easier to lean into the fantasy. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Even as his body felt like it was floating in air, there was some part of him that was just barely clinging onto consciousness. It kept his hair pounding, fur raised, chest heaving. Especially once that pale light started growing a little bit brighter.

Pulling himself up into a sitting position, the kitsune stared at the bottom of the door. No, it wasn’t a trick of the light. The pale moonlight had been tinged by reds and oranges, which flickered and waved slowly. As tired as he was, it still didn’t take long for Xain to realize that something was terribly wrong.

The kitsune bit his lip as he rose, setting the basket on the floor. He hadn’t seen anything like this in a long time, but he had some less than fond memories of his father and mother herding the kids down the cliff. The house had ended up fine (if a little scorched), but they’d almost starved over the next couple of weeks. They’d lost anything of value that they hadn’t been able to hide.

Walking over to the door and pulling it back, Xain felt a weight settle on his shoulders. He didn’t have the time, energy, or ability to carry much of anything to the town or the shore. He sagged, the wind buffeting his tablecloth skirt. Of course the raiders would be back. Of course the raiders would take everything he had left. Of course this was the way things had to end. If they targeted his house again, he’d have no choice but to move back into the village. There wasn’t any way he could survive the winter without food or his fishing rod. He’d come back to his sisters with just the clothes on his back. Or, if he was especially unlucky, he wouldn’t come back at all.

Against his better judgment, he found himself walking along the side of the house, paw running around the earth wall to provide support. When he made his way around the corner, he could see the torches. A few rose up far into the distance, almost hidden by the sea of grass that swayed back and forth beneath the moon. Strangely enough, the torches almost seemed to be receding. With the way that the door had looked earlier, they’d certainly been much closer. So why had they moved away? Why hadn’t they tried to break into his house? They certainly wouldn’t have had any opposition.

That was about when Xain caught sight of something being thrown through the air in the distance. Followed by a familiar shout.

Resisting the urge to scream Rasca’s name, Xain let go of the house and began to limp his way into the grass. The fox started crouching, hoping to disappear into the grass that rose up in front of him. Even in nighttime, the moon and those torches weren’t doing him any favors. It’d also hopefully mask his smell (his father had told him that the raiders were about as good as the kitsune at picking up odors). His leg didn’t take too kindly to that, but he was a little too tired to pay attention to the pain. Adrenaline shot through his veins while the grass creeped up around him, swallowing him.

In the distance, the torches began to move where Rasca had thrown some kind of bag. Xain couldn’t pick out the fox himself, but he swore that there was a patch of grass that wasn’t quite blowing in the wind. Ugh. Rasca didn’t know what he was doing – he wasn’t familiar with the plains, and he was terrible at keeping himself silent. The kitsune tried to make his strides as long as possible. He needed to get to Rasca before the raiders did. Maybe Rasca would stand a chance then.

Seconds blurred into minutes, steps blurred into each other, the plains blurred into a solid mass of black and green. It wasn’t too long before Xain had gotten close enough to see the raiders’ horses tower over the grass. The raiders themselves were barely visible in the torchlight. Saber-tooted tigers, with tan fur, enormous canines, and padded uniforms slipping in and out of the shadows. There appeared to be three of them, arguing near the spot Rasca had thrown the bag. Not that Xain could understand them, but their conversation sounded fast, angry, tense.

Xain felt a pit in his stomach. He was tired, cold, and he could feel the muscles in his leg slipping into and out of place. It was hard enough to be silent without trying not to scream after every other step, especially now that the adrenaline was wearing off. This was a bad idea. This was such an incredibly bad idea. What was he doing here? They were going to catch him. They were going to kill him. It would’ve been better to wait and see if Rasca’s plan had worked. Rasca had likely been leading them all over the place for the last couple hours, if the fires by Xain’s door had been anything to go by. The kitsune had underestimated Rasca – he kept glancing away from the raiders, but couldn’t spot anything out of place.

The raiders started to hush. Xain’s fur stood up on end as he watched the raiders start to look around. The one who’d been holding up Rasca’s bag threw it on the ground. And the kitsune wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but he could almost swear that they were turning their heads in his direction.

A paw grabbed onto Xain’s shoulder. The kitsune resisted the urge to scream as something pulled him down to the ground, causing his injured leg to bend the wrong way. Slapping a paw over his own mouth and taking a few deep breaths, the kitsune tried to push himself up and straighten himself out. He stretched out his other paw, trying to figure out what had grabbed onto him. Rasca? Some kind of attacker? Xain’s paw quickly brushed against fur, against an ear, towards a snout.

“Xain,” Rasca hissed, voice almost slipping into the wind. “What, are you doing?”

The kitsune blinked. Sure enough, he was grabbing onto Rasca’s face. Xain let go, watching as the fox’s features popped into the life under the moonlight. Rasca. It was Rasca. That orange fur, short snout, arched ears, the-

Rasca grabbed Xain’s head and pulled him down again. Hooves rumbled close by them, shadows from the raider’s torches flickering across Rasca and Xain’s fur. The next few seconds slowed down into breaths, heartbeats. Taking the hint, Xain bit his lip, pressed himself against the ground, lowered his ears, and tried to get a glimpse of where the raiders were. He could smell smoke, see the yellow and orange of the torches flicker in the distance, feel the ground rumble as the horses galloped across it. Still too close.

They just needed to hide. It’d be hard to pick out Rasca and Xain’s scents; they were mixed with the smell of horses and torches, on top of being masked by the wind. And Rasca had probably been running around for some time, which would confuse the raiders even more. It’d be even harder to see Rasca and Xain in the middle of the plains at night. The raiders could have convinced themselves that Rasca had run off somewhere else instead of trying to hide.

“Somewhere else” included Xain’s house. If Xain was lucky, the raiders would leave the house alone. As proud of it as he was, they could decide it was abandoned. Some of the walls still looked battered, nobody had lit a fire there for the last couple days, and no one trying to hide would leave the door wide open. Even if they didn’t, he wasn’t sure they would take anything. The last time he remembered the raiders, there had been far more of them. While they’d been going after Rasca, it sounded like Rasca had something valuable on him. Maybe they would just ignore the basket of food and clothing that Xain had left in the house (which the kitsune realized wasn’t a fantastic decision).

That was all the comfort that Xain could get, outside of holding onto Rasca. The night crawled along, bringing the raiders close to them, farther away, almost out of the horizon, and back again. Every time Xain felt like he could take a breath, the sound of hooves reminded him he wasn’t quite out of the woods just yet. At some points, he could even hear the raiders arguing. But he had to keep quiet, keep hiding, keep hoping him and Rasca would be alright. He tried to stop shivering in the cold; he stifled every sneeze; he kept ignoring every flash of pain. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he wiped it off and kept a grip on Rasca.

Pinks and purples started to grow on the horizon by the time the raiders finally left.

Xain almost didn’t notice the sunrise – black spots splattered across his eyes, masking the still-waving grass, brightening sky, and even Rasca’s face. Shivering, exhausted, leg screaming, Xain could only catch orange lines in the sky and the orange fur in front of him. He needed to eat. He needed to sleep. He needed to do anything other than lay here and try not to die. But his ears kept telling him that the raiders were just a few steps away. Every rustle, every piece of dying grass that blew off in the wind, every noise that Rasca made as he adjusted whatever was in his overalls ricocheted through Xain’s head. He knew it wasn’t rational. He’d heard the raiders yell at each other some time ago, before they’d hopped onto their horses and gone off into the sunset. They were gone.

But Xain still felt his heart skip a beat as Rasca began to pull himself up, brushing off Xain’s shoulder in the process. The kitsune craned his head up to watch Rasca get into a crouch and stare out above the sea of grass. It was about when Xain’s head stopped spinning that he realized just how ragged Rasca looked. The fox’s sunken eyes, shaky paws, ripped-up clothes, and papers spilling out from beneath the fabric told a story that Xain didn’t want to hear. Xain could even see Rasca’s notebook and stick tucked into the back of his shirt.

“Gone,” Rasca said. That sounded more like a question. Blinking a couple of times, the fox shook his head. “Gone,” he repeated, a little less hesitation in his voice.

Xain let out a shaky breath. The fox looked down at the kitsune, giving an expression that Xain recognized matched his own. Worry. Rasca wasn’t the only one who looked like a mess.

A gust of wind rushed past them. They couldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. Tears welled up in Rasca’s; he wiped them off, sniffling. Instinctively, Xain reached up a paw and rested it on Rasca’s knee. Taking the hint, Rasca reached out a shaky paw, grabbed onto Xain’s, and pulled him close.

On his knees, Xain found himself at eye level with Rasca. Their breaths fogged up in the air around them, mixing together. It was about then that Xain realized what he’d been feeling over the last day. Part of why he hadn’t wanted to go into town, part of why going into town had stung, all of why coming back to an empty house had devastated him.

And, with Rasca already starting to lean towards Xain, it looked like the fox had come to his own conclusion.

Setting his paw on Rasca’s shoulder, Xain closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and kissed Rasca. For a moment, Rasca flinched. Whoop. Had he been trying to do something else? Xain had just narrowly avoiding smacking Rasca’s snout with his own. Maybe Rasca had dropped something, or had almost fallen asleep. The kitsune pulled his head back and had a flash of worry that lasted just long enough for Rasca to grab Xain’s shoulders, pull the kitsune close, and return the kiss.

Ah. If Xain could breathe, he would’ve breathed a sigh of relief. Instead, crying, Xain and Rasca kissed as the sun broke through the horizon in the distance.

******

“So, dad was dead,” said Rasca. The fox’s head poked out from the blankets that enveloped Xain and Rasca (Vera had been kind enough to make a couple more). Rasca’s head resting on Xain’s chest, the fox let Xain scratch his chin.

“Yes,” Xain replied. His tails wrapped around Rasca’s, tablecloth swapped out for actual pants, Xain reached back to adjust his pillow. Compared to a few hours ago, he felt much better. The both of them had eaten some fish, and were now trying to warm up in the bed. Pinpricks raced up and down Xain’s limbs, but he appreciated them. They reminded him that he hadn’t frozen to death.

Rasca sighed. “And mom died had a long time ago.” He sounded slow, deliberate. The fox was still making some mistakes, but he was clearly trying to figure out his sentences. And Xain wasn’t interested in pressuring him. The fox had spent all of breakfast apologizing for throwing a bag of fish at the raiders. Even though Xain and Rasca had already found those fish. Some a little crushed, but otherwise fine enough to eat.

“And they had monies?” said Xain, wrapping his arms around Rasca. The kitsune wasn’t quite sure how to show sympathy, but, if the squeaking noise Rasca made was anything to go by, the fox got the message.

Rasca sniffed. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Lots of those. And I, don’t know why dad died. He have did power. I got the money, but not the power. Someone else did.”

“Did you want the power?” said Xain, tilting his head.

The fox shook his head. “I and dad were, not close. I others had teach me things, talk to me, keep me busy. I did not like his job. It sounded busy, and I did want no it.”

Xain frowned. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“It is fine,” Rasca replied, “It happened. But yeah, I money had. And I wanted to go places. Far away places. New places.”

“Like this?” said Xain.

With a nod, Rasca went on. “Like this. So, I made a ship. I gave money people. We went to the horizon of the world, with all the big rocks.”

Hmm – not something that the kitsune recognized. “And no ones did that before?” Xain said.

“Lots of people did,” Rasca said. “But we broke up the ship. We moved it over the big rocks, then put it together back.”

“Wow,” said Xain. He shifted ever so slightly, trying to pull his blankets up a little farther without them completely covering Rasca. “That must’ve taken times.”

Rasca nodded. “But it worked, the fox said. “We made it to the sea, and we tried to go far. But some foxes did not want to go far.”

Xain bit his lip as he remembered how Rasca had run aground all those weeks ago. “That small boats of yours could not fit many foxes,” he said.

With another nod, Rasca said, “We saw nothing. Just the sea, and more sea, and more sea. And some foxes, got angry, with me.”

The kitsune set his other paw on Rasca’s chest, feeling the way it rose and fell. By now, Rasca’s breaths had started to get a little shaky. After last night, Xain was a little concerned. With as much as Rasca had been running around, and as worn out and haggard as Rasca had looked, part of Xain wondered if Rasca would get sick. Which unsettled Xain. “What did they dos?” Xain said, getting the feeling he knew the answer.

Clasping Xain’s paw with his own, Rasca said, “They off kicked me. Said there was nothing. Said I was trying to all kill them.

“But they were wrong,” said Xain. “Why did you not tells them?”

A pause. “I did not know that,” Rasca said.

Xain frowned. “You had lots of foods, yes?” he said slowly.

Silence.

“Rasca,” Xain said, sighing.

The fox shifted, scooting a little farther away from Xain. “I did not through this think,” said Rasca quickly, voice quiet. “I thought find something we would eventually. But it was not enough soon.”

“How longs were you on that little boat?” said Xain, trying to coax Rasca closer by scratching Rasca’s chin again.

Rasca wouldn’t budge. “I do not know,” said Rasca. “There no food was. I tried to hide some food, in the boat, but they, found it. I was hungry. It was long. I saw some islands, far off.”

“You did not tries to go to them?” Xain said.

The fox shook his head. “I was, tired,” he said. “By the time I saw islands, I could barely paw a lift. I, was sure not they were islands. I was seeing things.”

Xain wrapped his tails around Rasca a little more.

“All had I,” the fox said, “Was my chest, and my-“ he paused, then said something that Xain didn’t understand. Based on what Rasca had set down earlier, Xain got the impression that it was the stick. But Rasca wasn’t calling it a stick.

“A what?” said Xain.

“A gun,” the fox said, then paused. “You would call it a stick? And it had a, a ball.”

Hmm. Xain wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Why?” said Xain, once he realized that Rasca’s had started shaking.

Rasca let out a long, unsteady breath. The kitsune winced – had he said something out of place? “The way works a gun,” Rasca said slowly, flipping himself around and pulling himself up with one paw so that he could raise a claw with the other, “Is that it makes moves the ball.” Stretching out his paw, Rasca moved the claw towards Xain’s forehead. Xain shuffled back slightly, since he wasn’t sure where Rasca was going with this (and Rasca was getting awfully close). However, the most the fox did was reach out and tap Xain’s forehead. It took a moment for Xain to realize what Rasca was suggesting. “Into your head,” said Rasca, confirming Xain’s suspicions.

The kitsune found himself looking into Rasca’s eyes once again. Emotions flooded through the kitsune – he couldn’t place any of them, if only because he was too overwhelmed to figure out what they were. A couple seconds later, it settled into anger. Anger at Rasca’s crewmates. Anger at all that had happened to Rasca. Anger at how long Rasca had been cold, hungry, miserable. Closing his eyes, Xain pulled his head up, hoping to give Rasca a kiss. Try and make up, even if just a little bit, for how painful it had to have been for Rasca to tell that story.

Only for Xain to pause when he felt a claw on his lips. Opening his eyes, Xain looked up at Rasca’s frown. “I am, sorry,” Rasca said, pulling the claw back. Sniffling, the fox blinked a couple tears out of his eyes. When he realized he was looking directly at Xain, Rasca turned his head and stared at the floor. “But, what is this? Who are we? Are we, a couple?”

Xain opened his mouth, but hesitated. It almost felt like his heart had gotten lodged in his throat. “I-,” Xain eventually said, wishing that he could fall into the bed and disappear.

“It, is sudden, yes?” said Rasca, running his claw through his hair. “We known have each other for a long time, but I not did – I am not sure if I did – I know not if -”

The kitsune reached a paw up, then pulled it back slightly. He wasn’t sure if Rasca would be comfortable if Xain set it on his shoulder. “Do you needs to know?” said Xain eventually.

Rasca blinked, eyes immediately darting back to Xain. “What?” the fox said.

“Are you okay with this?” said Xain, gesturing to how Rasca had propped himself up over Xain.

After a couple seconds’ hesitation, the fox nodded. “Yes,” the fox stammered, glancing away from Xain. “I am fine with this. With you.”

“Do we wants to call this anything?” Xain continued.

Another pause. Rasca grit his teeth, but Xain didn’t get the impression that it was out of anger. Fear? Embarrassment? Realization? “What do you mean?” said Rasca. It sounded more like the fox was waiting for Xain to say what Rasca was thinking.

Which Xain would. “We do not, need to be a couple,” the kitsune said, paying close attention to his words. It sounded like something important to say. “We do not, need to be friends. We can be us.”

Tears streamed down Rasca’s face. With a cough to clear his throat, the fox rubbed his eyes. “What if I call it want to something?” Rasca blurted out, voice hoarse. His arm started shaking, threatening to throw him on top of Xain. “What if it is nothing?”

“We do not, have to know right now,” said Xain, finally reaching out of his paw to grab onto Rasca’s unsteady arm. Looking Rasca in the eyes, Xain reached up to wipe off a couple of tears. “If it is nothing, is it nothing. But, we do not, need to call something something for it to be something.”

Rasca set his other paw over his eyes. “Calling something it feels better,” he said, voice unsteady. “I have done never this before, I have never felt about you before.”

Moving his paw down Rasca’s arm to stabilize the fox, Xain said, “I haves not either.”

“I am scared, Xain,” said Rasca. Rasca’s tears dripped onto Xain’s clothes as Rasca moved himself a little closer. With Xain keeping Rasca’s paw on the bed, the fox seemed to be shaking a little less. “Of us. I want, to be, with you.”

“You are,” Xain said, but he got the impression that wasn’t what Rasca was talking about. Given everything that Rasca had done over the last day, and the story that Rasca told him, the fox clearly wanted to go back to his home.

With a huff, Rasca rested his head on Xain’s chest again. Xain wasn’t sure what to make of Rasca lying down on top of him, but Xain tried to ignore the discomfort and focus on what Rasca was saying. Rasca’s feelings were the most important part of the conversation. “But you here live, and I live there,” said Rasca quietly.

Xain wrapped his arms around Rasca. “How longs will you be here?” said Xain. “It took you weeks to get here.”

“Longer,” said Rasca, sighing. He slowly lowered his arm, revealing swollen, red eyes. “I think.”

“So Agneta will go there,” Xain said. “And it will takes weeks. And Agneta will go backs. And that will take weeks. Or months. And then it might nots be winter. The monsters are only really quiet in winter.”

Rasca groaned. “That if is, Agneta even wants do it,” he mumbled. The fox began to curl up on Xain’s stomach. Which made it a little harder to pay attention to what Rasca was saying. Xain wasn’t sure how the fox could look so sad and adorable at the same time.

Xain shrugged. “Exactly,” he said. “So you have times. We can deal with this when you have to go.”

A pause. “Okay,” Rasca said. He took a couple deep breaths, blinking a few last tears out of his eyes. “I can wait.”

Biting his lip, Xain let a few seconds pass. “Would you like to kiss?” said Xain.

Rasca snorted. “Sure,” the fox said. Lifting his head up, Rasca puckered his lips and gave Xain a kiss on the cheek.

Xain blushed. “On the lips,” he said, already lowering his head.

Their first kiss had been a little fast, a little desperate, a little emotional. That had made it extremely easy for Xain to ignore that he didn’t know how to kiss. Now that he found himself making out with Rasca, he realized that he wasn’t sure what he was doing. He wasn’t sure how to deal with his lips, or what to do about his tongue, or whether he was being too aggressive. It also wasn’t especially romantic to see Rasca trying to wipe off snot from his nose. But Rasca seemed happy with whatever this was.

Xain wanted to say this was a romance. It felt like a romance. He loved everything about Rasca. The way the fox sketched, how he could hold onto the fox, how the fox cared about him and wanted him to be okay, how Xain wanted the fox to be okay. The fox genuinely liked Xain’s job, and showed much more affection than anyone Xain had met in a long time. At the same time, if Rasca didn’t want to call this a romance, then Xain wouldn’t. If Rasca didn’t want to call this anything, Xain wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair for Xain to push that on Rasca. Especially if it would scare Rasca into ignoring his own feelings.

And, well, they were fine. They were finally fine. Maybe not perfect; Xain knew there were a lot of questions neither of them had answered yet. But they had the time to do that.

When Xain had started growing his third tail, Rasca had been almost more excited about it than Xain had been.

A couple days after the tigers had arrived, Xain had woken up to a strange feeling, which he had almost chalked up to his back being sore. But, with his sister having grown hers, the timing had been a little too coincidental. He’d checked and, sure enough, his tail had started sprouting. Well, sprouting had felt like the wrong word. It had started curling and growing longer, with thicker and thicker layers of fur replacing old ones. Which had meant plenty of shedding, on top of Xain’s appetite growing much bigger. Xain had been a little nervous that he’d end up causing the both of them to starve. However, as much as he’d felt the box Vera and Yisele had given him had been a little big, it had turned out to have been very helpful. Xain almost hated that – that had probably been the point.

Rasca had been obsessed with the tail. He’d spent each day trying to measure it, taking sketches of it, trying to keep pieces of fur in his sketchbook. Xain had been a little confused, and a little disturbed, by all of that. On the other hand, that had apparently never happened to Rasca. While Xain had grown his second tail about 10 years ago, and would grow a fourth 10 years later, Rasca was stuck with one tail. Unfortunate, but at least Rasca could see Xain’s grow.

And, with a third tail, Xain could use a little more magic. It wasn’t quite enough to make starting the fires on his own worthwhile, but Xain could at least heat up the fireplace, boil some of the water that came from the well, and make the bed a little warmer. That also added to Xain’s appetite, so he had to use his powers less often. Much to Rasca’s disappointment.

Other than the fox’s obsession, Xain found himself getting along with Rasca. Now that Xain had started heading out of the house to cut grass, he didn’t spend all his time with Rasca. But Rasca would usually come along or cut grass nearby. When they were together, it was often them cuddling in bed. With the temperature dropping, frost settling on the plains, the winds getting stronger, and the sea looking darker, it wasn’t like they had much else to do but lay there and talk and hug. They’d even gotten to the point where they could hold conversations in each other’s languages. Rasca didn’t always have his sentence order right, but he understood a lot more than he had even a couple weeks ago. Whatever their relationship was, Xain was proud of Rasca, and he enjoyed the time they spent together. Rasca said he felt the same way.

Not that there weren’t issues.

Despite how much they talked, they hadn’t gotten to the heart of why Rasca had washed up on shore in the first place. They stitched together all kinds of sentences and threw in all kinds of obscure words, but they never talked about their lives. Not that Xain was being entirely honest either. Rasca had opened up his heart to Xain, but Xain wasn’t sure how comfortable he was doing the same. Xain hadn’t talked about his parents, or why he lived in this house and his siblings lived in town. It wasn’t like Rasca had ever asked, but Xain got the feeling that wasn’t a good excuse. And Xain had a better excuse.

Agneta had come by a couple days earlier. She’d brought some tea, had helped Xain prepare it, and had listened to Rasca and Xain as they told her their story. Agneta had looked incredibly relieved, but had still asked if Rasca had wanted his maps and equipment back. Xain had been tempted to nudge Rasca into saying yes. However, Rasca (and Agneta) had started getting tense when the possibility had come up. And, well, who was Xain to get in the way of Rasca wanting to go home? Agneta had also seemed happy to make that happen, especially when Rasca had told her that she could sell the maps back to him when he had the funds.

Yet, Rasca still wasn’t explaining what he would do after that. Rasca had called himself an explorer, but Xain didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. If Agneta made it back to Rasca’s home, then brought Rasca’s friends (or just other explorers - it didn’t sound like Rasca had any friends), would Rasca sail back home? Would Rasca keep on exploring? Xain liked to believe he was friendly, but there all kinds of animals and creatures that weren’t. He couldn’t see that exploration going well for Rasca. But, if Rasca and the explorers tamed the creatures and drove back other animals, what would happen to Xain? There wasn’t any guarantee that anyone Rasca knew would be as nice as Rasca. It didn’t look like Rasca had kept great company.

And that was why Xain had been keeping his mouth shut. Rasca hadn’t talked about exploring since they’d talked about his voyage, and Xain had barely mentioned his parents in that time. It wasn’t that they didn’t enjoy the time they spent together. To an extent, Xain felt like he could put aside his fears. It felt like he had forever to spend with the fox he cared about. Sure, forever was a long time. Xain had gotten acutely aware that Rasca had poor hygiene and only wanted to wear one outfit regardless of how it smelled. The two had gone fishing once or twice, but hadn’t had much luck. It wasn’t cold enough to freeze up the cove, but cold enough that the fish weren’t keen on biting. The kitsune’s wound had gone from irritating to a dull ache, and Xain and Rasca had long ago taken off everything they’d applied to it. It still wasn’t like Xain or Rasca could go anywhere.

However, Xain wasn’t alone. Xain had spent a few winters alone, and he’d always hated it. He’d always felt trapped in his house, and he’d end up spending all his time pacing around or trying to sleep to skip meals. At least he could talk to someone this time around. And, with Rasca sitting beside Xain, flipping through the sketchbook and showing off different pages, Xain was reminded that he had someone who cared about him. Someone willing to help him out. Someone he could hold onto. Someone who could make forever a little more tolerable. Xain wasn’t sure what to do when forever ended, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He didn’t have any other choice.

“And I thought I would try to draw the path I left in the grass,” said Rasca, pointing to one sketch. The fox talked quickly and tried his best to lean part of the book closer to him. “Because is there grass in my country, but it not is this tall.”

Leaning against Rasca, Xain pointed to the part of the book that Rasca had moved away from Xain. “And I can see a really nice sketch of my butt,” said Xain with a smirk.

“You’re never let going to me forget about that, are you not?” Rasca said, biting his lip. “I already sorry said about the tail thing.”

Xain set a paw on Rasca’s head. “I know,” Xain said, “And I forgive you. I’m just impressed at the level of detail, is all.”

Rasca set the book down and crossed his arms, looking away from Xain. “Well I will have know you that this was a guess. I was not trying be a creep.”

“Do you want to sees how accurate it is?” said Xain, trying to keep his voice steady. It was just a little funny to try and push Rasca’s buttons; a couple weeks stuck in a house had made it a lot easier to figure out what those buttons were. He ran a paw through Rasca’s fur, causing the fox’s ears to twitch

Rasca rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore Xain. “No,” said Rasca. “I want did not take up drawing because I wanted butts to draw. I just wanted to attach the tails to something.”

Nodding, the kitsune said, “Well, you did a nice job.”

“Thanks,” said Rasca, the fox managing to land somewhere between sincere and sarcastic. He closed his sketchbook, then gently rested it on top of the chest beside the bed. The book tilted slightly, but stayed where it’d been set. “Only the best butts for you.”

Hmm. Xain hadn’t quite expected Rasca to fire back. “Because mine is the best,” said Xain.

Sighing, Rasca started leaning against Xain. Xain pushed himself back slightly, allowing Rasca to settle down and set his head on Xain’s lap. As Rasca stared up at the ceiling, Xain lowered his paw to start scratching Rasca’s chin. Rasca smiled up at Xain.

A pause. Their eyes met.

“Um,” said Xain.

“Yeah,” Rasca said, biting his lip.

Xain shuffled slightly and nudged the blankets back. “You” – Xain coughed – “You have a nice butt too. Not, not that I have seen.”

“Oh?” said Rasca. The fox pressed the side of his head against Xain’s stomach.

What was he saying? Why was he saying it? “Yeah,” Xain said. “I, I have not seens its. Just, when we are sleeping?” Xain’s cheeks felt like they were about to burst into flames. His voice got a little hoarse, and he tugged at his shirt. “No, I, no, swear I am nots, not doing anything rude.”

“I, didn’t think were you?” Rasca said. The fox seemed to freeze up as he reached out and began to pull the blankets back. “I wake sometimes up, and you are always sleeping deeply. It, feels nice. You holding to me.”

“It, does?” said Xain. He blinked. “I do that?”

Rasca suddenly looked a lot more interested in the ceiling. “Sometimes you over turn and wrap your arms around me,” he said.

Xain tried to talk, but choked. The kitsune took a deep breath. “I am, so sorry,” he said. “It’s’s, it is, I did not knows, know. I, think I used to hold onto my parents when I was-”

The fox stretched himself out, spreading his arms and legs over half the bed. “It is, fine again,” Rasca said, patting Xain on the shoulder. “It me makes – makes me – feel” – Rasca paused – “cozy?”

The kitsune let out a shaky breath. “Alright,” said Xain. “But, but, let me knows, know, if you do not like it.”

Rasca nodded.

Instinctively nodding back, Xain caught himself. Coughing and blinking his eyes a few more times, Xain went on. “So, your butt,” said Xain.

“My butt,” Rasca said, putting on a smile.

Ugh. Covering his eyes with his paws, Xain said, “It’s, it is, very round?”

“Mhm,” said Rasca.

“And big?” Xain said.

When Xain looked down, he could see Rasca grinning up at him. A strange grin – Rasca had started biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, which didn’t concern Xain at all. But Rasca was taking this a lot better than Xain was. Not that that was frustrating or anything. It wasn’t like Rasca was always hesitant or awkward about literally any other emotion.

“You sure you did not feel it?” Rasca said, grinning.

“No,” Xain groaned, throwing his forepaws over his eyes and leaning forward. “I, would nots, would not do anything like that. Why are you saying that?”

“Just wanted make up for that thing poking the back of my head,” Rasca said.

Xain spluttered out a laugh. Still covering his eyes, the kitsune quickly shifted to the left, causing the fox’s head to flop down on the bed. Xain had to admit that he was having fun. Awkward fun, weird fun, but fun. This wasn’t a side of Rasca that he was familiar with, and it felt, freeing? It felt like a weight was lifting off his chest. And falling back down, but it was something.

“Sorry,” Rasca said, reaching a paw up to Xain’s cheek. Whoop. Did Xain make it look like he was crying? The kitsune had started heaving a little bit, and couldn’t quite stop shaking. Which he couldn’t do too much about. The fox’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Xain, are you alright?”

The kitsune let out a laugh. Which didn’t help, because it sounded way too forced. “No, no, it’s fines,” Xain said between breaths. He rubbed his eyes and wiped away a couple of tears. Shaking his head, the kitsune continued. “I just, was nots expecting that.”

“Okay,” said Rasca. Xain almost missed the hesitation that crept up the fox’s voice, but he could hear it. The kitsune slowly paused and started looking down at Rasca, which was apparently the fox’s cue to move a little closer. “But, uh, but, if would you, you would like see, I, I would not, I mean, I would not be against.”

“I-,” Xain started to say, before something caught his attention. The kitsune pulled his head up, glaring at the door. His ears pricked up; something at the edge of his hearing. It almost sounded like someone stomping on the ground outside of the house. But he was just imagining that, wasn’t he?

“Hm?” Rasca said, turning his head back towards the door. It didn’t seem like the fox had heard it. Which made a little bit of sense, since Rasca’s ears were smaller. Ugh – if Xain was rationalizing that noise like that, it probably was a problem.

Then came the sound of someone knocking on the door. Loud, forceful. That couldn’t be Agneta. She never knocked; Xain always heard her and opened the door before she could get near it. That left only a couple options, none of which Xain liked. Of course they would show up now. Of course. He could never get a break. Everyone in the whole world was in a cruel prank against him.

Pulling back the bedsheets, Xain rose up. “I need you to hide under the bed,” said Xain, eyes darting around as he looked for the basket.

“Um, okay?” said Rasca as another knock came from the door. Just a little louder. “How come? Who is it?”

“Family,” Xain grumbled. Spotting the basket, he wrenched the lid off and began to rummage around for something to wrap around his pants.

Recognizing the urgency in Xain’s voice, Rasca also pushed himself off of the bed. “Here? Now? Why?” the fox said, already reaching down and tugging the edge of the mattress up. The kitsune glanced back; he really doubted he could keep his sisters from coming inside the house, or that Xain could hide under the bed in time, but it was worth a shot.

“I don’t know!” Xain said. By now, the knocking had turned more into a banging. Somebody slammed their fist against the door, and Xain swore he could hear a couple voices whispering between each other outside. Finding a green blanket, Xain began to stretch it out. It looked like it’d be big enough.

“Xain?” said what sounded a lot like Vera. “Is that you?”

Ugh. He wasn’t surprised, but he’d been hoping it was Yisele and her wife. They were a little less aggressive. “One second!” Xain called, stretching his blanket around his waist and beginning to tie it. The knocking stopped, but Xain got the feeling that someone was pressing against the door; it creaked slightly, bending inwards. Vera could open the door if she wanted to, but she was probably trying to be polite. Or someone had convinced her to be polite. Likely her husband.

Xain looked over at Rasca. The fox had managed to squeeze his legs under the mattress, and he was currently trying to scoot himself back into the wall. Eyes shooting back to the door when Rasca glanced in his direction, Xain finished typing up the blanket. Walking over, the kitsune reached out and yanked on the door handle. The rusted piece of metal almost snapped off as the door groaned its way into the house. And, sure enough, he found his eldest sister catching herself as she let go of the other side of the door and stepped back.

Taking a step forward and stretching his arms so that he blocked as much of the entrance as possible, Xain hesitated. His sisters and both their spouses stood in front of him. He could see worry in all their eyes and in their frowns. Except for Vera’s, which had a lot more fire to it. As far as he could hear and see and smell, they hadn’t brought anyone else with them. He probably would’ve felt the magic radiating off of the village leader, so he couldn’t be around. That was something.

“What-” Xain said, before Vera poked him in the chest.

“You,” Vera growled. Xain felt himself shrink back as she took a step forward and glared into his eyes.

Xain pulled his head back, putting on a sheepish smile. Ugh, he could still hear Rasca trying to fit himself under the bed; the fox was trying to keep himself quiet, but Xain could hear the swearing. “Me?”

“What’s wrong with you?” said Vera. She tried to look over Xain’s shoulder, but he moved his head to block her. Vera grit her teeth. “You hide from us for weeks, and then you show up to my house smelling injured, smelling sick, smelling like somebody else. Did you really think you could hide that bulls*** from me?”

“Hol’ up for a sec’, dear,” Sive said. He set a paw on his wife’s shoulder; she shifted back. Then he focused on Xain. Somehow, those pleading eyes were almost worse than Vera’s. “We’re just a lil’ worried ‘bout ya, Xain. Ya were, off, when ya dropped by. Thought we’d pay ya a visit ‘fore the winter.”

Shaking his head, Xain tried his best not to stammer. “Well, I’m fine,” he said a tad quickly. “I got over whatever made me sick, and I finally went and cut up the grass, and-.”

“You’re really going to lie to your own sister?” Vera said. Shrugging off Sive’s paw, she took a step forward, stepping past the door. Wonderful. Xain found himself moving back. “I smell them here.”

“It’s, just,” said Xain, voice already fading.

“It’s just what?” Vera replied, poking Xain in the chest again. As Xain stepped back, Sive slipped past his wife to get into the house. Xain tried to step over to Sive, but Vera grabbed Xain’s shoulder. “It’s just grass? It’s just the manure? Or are you going to make up some weirder s***? I haven’t been to this house in years, but I still remember what it smells like. And this isn’t it.”

Xain grabbed Vera’s paw and pulled it off his shoulders. “Maybe that’s none of your business,” he growled.

“None of my business?” Vera said. She balled her paws into fists and set them on her hips. “Is it none of my business when my brother stops talking to me? When my brother shows up to my village with a limp? When my brother won’t explain where he’s been or what he’s been doing? You better believe this is my business.”

“I gave you perfectly good explanations,” said Xain. “I had a lot going on, and I didn’t have time to go to the village. You ignored me, like you always do. Because it’s not good enough for you. Because there always has to be something wrong with me.”

Vera started shaking. “So,” she said, taking in a deep breath, “Why the f*** are you still living in this house? Why the f*** are you living in the place our parents f***ing died? What’s right about that?”

“It’s better than living in some sh**** village where I couldn’t go to the f***ing sea and do what I wanted to because oh no, it’s too dangerous,” Xain shouted, throwing his arms up. “Oh no, it’s too risky. Oh no, you might get eaten. It’s not like I had anything else going for me. I don’t go to town and s*** on your farming skills. I don’t say you could hurt yourself with a plow, or that you’re going to starve to death, or anything like that. I don’t hate your life. It’s just not mine.”

The kitsune let out shaky breaths. Xain felt anger pulsing through him, waiting to lash out at his sister. He’d never called her out like this. He’d hadn’t said any of this in years. He’d bottled his anger, ignored it, let it fester. If it wasn’t for Yisele, he probably would’ve let a little more of it out.

“So, uh, now that you’ve got that out of your systems, who’s this supposed to be?”

Xain pivoted to the right, then stifled a groan. Iva had pulled up the mattress, revealing Rasca hiding underneath. The fox grinned sheepishly, glancing up at Iva.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xain could see Vera wrinkle her nose. “I haven’t seen anything like them,” she said, notes of disgust in her voice. “What are they?”

The kitsune took a deep breath. “He’s Rasca,” Xain said slowly. “And he’s a fox.”

“A what?” Vera said, taking a step towards Rasca.

“I am, a fox,” said Rasca. Vera flinched and stopped. The fox hesitated, but went on. “That is, uh, why I am so” – he rested his chin on his paws and stared at the floor – “orange? And small? And one tail have?"

Yisele blinked. “Huh,” she said, crouching down beside Rasca. “You’re just stuck with one?” she said. “How much magic do you have?”

Rasca’s grin managed to get even more sheepish; he shrugged. “Some?” he said. “Not much. Xain much better is, and is a couple years older.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Vera closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Everyone fell silent as she stretched her shoulders back and glared down at Rasca. “Yisele, could you kindly talk about something more important and ask how this strange man ended up in my brother’s house?” Vera said, before her eyes shot up at Xain. “And could you explain why you’re keeping a strange man in your house?”

“He washed up here,” said Xain slowly. Out of the corner of one eye, he could see Rasca’s expression get a little more nervous. Out of the corner of his other eye, Xain could see Sive start to walk across the room. Not that he could deal with either of those things – he was too tired, too angry, and had much of the truth to fudge. “I found him when I went fishing – I saved his life, just so you know – and I’ve been taking care of him ever since.”

Vera set a fist on her hip. “So, why did you never tell him about us?” she said. “I’m sure that he would’ve settled right in with the rest of the village, and we could’ve helped him go back to wherever he came from.” She glanced down at Xain’s leg. “Might that have something to do with that injury of yours?”

Xain grit his teeth. “No,” he said. “It was an accident. I was trying to patch up a part of the house, and I ended up falling off the roof. That you’d think he’s at all harmful is a lot of the reason why I didn’t take him to the village.” He gestured to Rasca, who had started to pull himself out from under the bed (with Iva holding up the mattress for him). “And you probably would’ve decided that I needed to stay with you as well. I figured I could take care of him on my own.”

“Like you can take care of yourself,” said Vera with a snort. Xain’s eyes drilled into hers; she sneered at him. “Maybe I would’ve been more open to the idea of leaving you alone if you had brought him to us, instead of lying to your own family so you could pretend to look after someone.”

Getting up, Rasca gave Iva a quick bow in thanks and then made a beeline to a spot just behind Xain. Xain could guess what had happened; Sive had probably seen the journal and had decided to pick it up. Wonderful. Sive was nice enough that Xain didn’t think he would talk about the contents of the journal, but that wouldn’t exactly stop Vera from snooping around later. And there would be a later. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was here to stay. Better to keep her distracted for a little longer. “And maybe I did,” said Xain, puffing up his chest slightly. “Rasca can talk to you because of me. And I really doubt you would’ve left me alone. You’ve always been waiting for an excuse to drag me back there.”

“Because you’ve never given me a reason that you should stay,” said Vera.

“I saved his life,” Xain growled, pointing back at Rasca. Rasca and Sive had gotten into a quiet conversation; Xain was too preoccupied to pick up on the details, but Sive appeared to be apologizing. Sive had seen something poking out of the journal. At least it wasn’t a complete violation of privacy. “What could have happened if you had kept me in the village?”

“If you were really so adamant about going to the shore to look for washed-up strangers,” said Vera, leaning forward and raising her chin, “Then we would’ve gone along with you.”

Xain grimaced. “Would you?” he said. “Or would you have just told me it was too dangerous, I was too obsessed with that place, I should just stay in the village. Stay until I grow old and die. That would make you happy, wouldn’t it? I’d be so much happier if I did what you told me to. That’s how you treat everyone.”

To Xain’s surprise, Yisele stepped into the fray. “Please, just stop,” she said, pushing her way in between Xain and Vera. “You’re just going to keep going in circles. We’re here for a reason, Vera.” Yisele glared at Vera, voice growing a little more bitter. “I understand that you’re upset, and you have a bunch of reasons for that, but you’re not going to get anywhere if you keep yelling at him.”

“Because I’m being the unreasonable one,” Xain said, rolling his eyes.

Yisele turned her head and glared at her brother. Xain somehow found that more intimidating than anything Vera had done. If Vera was angry, that was almost par for the course. It was a lot harder to piss Yisele off. “Yes, you are,” Yisele said. “I know you don’t like us, and I know you don’t like the village, but really? Did you think we’d just go along with everything? That none of us would wonder what was up with your leg, or why you smelled so funny, or why you were so nervous about everything?”

Xain grit his teeth. “At least I didn’t try to barge into your house,” he said, crossing his arms.

“We’re just trying to keep an eye out for you,” said Yisele. “All these lies haven’t been making us feel any better. And sure, maybe you didn’t even need to tell us about Rasca, but you really could starve without us to help. You’re lucky we decided to get some more food for you.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Xain said, throwing up his arms. “If you’re so worried about me, are you just going to haul me back?”

Vera huffed. “We came here out of the hopes that our worst fears wouldn’t be confirmed,” she said. “Maybe even spend some of this winter with you.”

“We’d like to spend a couple of days here,” said Yisele, raising her voice to talk over Vera. “If everything really is okay, we’ll head on out. But, with Rasca here, it would probably be a much better idea to go back to the village. We’ll keep him safe.”

“I’d love to have y’all stay the winter at my dad’s place,” said Iva, giving a bit of an awkward glare as she looked between the siblings. Which was fair. “He won’t have any problems if we bring Rasca over.” Her expression hardened slightly. “And if he does, then I’ll just remind him how he reacted when he found out he wasn’t going to have any grandkids.”

A small pause.

“Uh, I should set this bed down,” Iva said, looking away as she bit her lip. “But yeah, just want me to put this back where it was, Xain?” She shook the mattress slightly, causing pieces of straw to slip out.

"Yeah,” Xain said, turning over to Iva and nodding. He glanced back at his sisters; Vera was still glaring at him, while Yisele grimaced. Iva’s father accepted her and Yisele as a couple, but Xain could still remember the commotion when him and his siblings had come into town and Yisele had (very quickly) romanced the captain’s daughter. The captain had been a little too focused on the idea that his descendants would keep the town safe. Even if everyone had buried that hatchet, it was just another reason that Xain wasn’t fond of the village.

Vera rested a fist on her hip. “You’re not going to get rid of us, Xain,” she said. “Just accept it.”

Taking a step forward, Yisele set a paw on Xain’s shoulder, likely more for the sake of getting Xain to ignore Vera. “I know that you’re scared and frustrated,” she said with a voice friendly enough to make Xain ball his paws into fists, “I don’t like how many things you’ve been hiding from us, but I can sort of understand why you did it. You didn’t want to deal with us, and you don’t like our village. But we really think staying there for the winter will be safer for Rasca. That it’ll be safer for you.”

One end of the mattress hit the ground with a thump; Iva let out a very quiet curse, then a quiet apology. Xain sighed. “I don’t hate you,” he said, shrugging Yisele’s shoulder off. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot for a few seconds, then raised his head. “It’d just be really nice if you didn’t break into my home.”

“We’re worried about you,” said Yisele. “We want to make sure you’re alright. You can’t hide from us forever, Xain. We’re your family. What if you’d kept doing this? What if we’d stayed in the village until spring? What if we’d headed over here and found you dead? Would that have been worth it?”

A pause. Xain crossed his arms and stared at the ground.

With a cough, Yisele said, “And, just to be clear, are you and Rasca, together? You smell a lot like each other.”

Well, if Vera wasn’t angry before, she was fuming now. Xain could almost see fire spring to life in Vera’s eyes as she drew her mouth into a tight line. “You wouldn’t dare,” Vera said, glaring over at Rasca. “You wash up on shore and romance the first person you see? The same person that you hurt? How dare you try to manipulate my brother like that.”

Xain took a couple steps back, glancing at the grimacing fox that was currently pushing himself against the wall. “Vera, calm down, said Xain, throwing out an arm in front of Rasca. “Like I said, that was an accident. Not that you’d believe that, because you don’t believe anything I say.”

“It would be a lot easier to if you didn’t stop lying to me,” said Vera.

“You know I’m a s****y liar,” Xain growled. When Vera pulled her head back and scowled – a good sign that he was right – Xain went on. “Our relationship is none of your business. We’ve taken care of each other, and we care about each other.”

Slowly making his way around the cabin, Sive stopped behind Vera and set a paw on her shoulder. If he was trying to get her to stop, it didn’t work. “How am I going to trust the fox you thought it was a great idea to hide from us?” she said. There was something a little irritating in the way that she struggled to say fox. It almost felt like that was on purpose. “Even for you, that’s strange.”

“I mean,” Rasca responded, catching Xain off guard. The kitsune had assumed that Rasca was a little too intimidated by Vera. “For what worth it is, Xain, did not want me to you meet? He, did not think you would like me.”

Vera fell silent, especially after Sive tugged her shoulder. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Xain said, “Yes, this was my idea. He’s not a kitsune, and he’s not from here. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have been all that friendly if I said that I had a fox living with me.”

“Maybe if you’d brought him to the village, I would’ve been alright with him,” Vera snapped.

“Because having a few dozen strangers judge him and stay away from him would be a great idea,” Xain replied. He grit his teeth. “They don’t trust anyone they’re not familiar with. You don’t trust anyone who isn’t a local kitsune or one of the usual traders.”

“There’s not that many people I can trust in this world,” Vera said. “You heard all the stories they told us about the raiders.”

Xain bared his fangs. “Rasca isn’t a raider,” Xain said. He gestured to Yisele and Sive, who had been swapping nervous looks between each other. “And why aren’t you stepping in? She’s full of crap. You know she’s full of crap.”

Lowering herself onto the mattress, which sagged and spilled out even more straw, Iva broke the awkward silence that settled over everyone. “Nobody really goes here,” she said. “The shore isn’t safe, and there isn’t much to plunder. Other than the people. Dad’s fought with the raiders, and he knows they enslave prisoners. Rasca seems pretty nice, though?”

“But pretty nice hasn’t always worked out for us,” Vera said. “And I’m not keen on trusting someone who just washed up on shore, especially when he hasn’t told us where he’s from or why he’s here.”

“I know why he’s here,” Xain growled.

Vera spread out her arms. “Please tell us,” she said.

“He hasn’t been here before, so he wanted to explore the area,” said Xain. That was basically the truth – it was definitely much easier to say than a complete lie. “Maybe trade with some people. And things didn’t quite work out. Isn’t that right, Rasca?” The kitsune looked over at the fox, who had started to cling onto Xain’s arm. Not exactly helping, but Rasca was trying to talk to Vera.

Rasca nodded. “Yes,” he said, reaching a hindpaw back to kick the chest. “I traded with the, rock person? Some maps and tools.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Vera sighed. “Fine,” she said, pulling her head up after a couple seconds. “I don’t know if I believe that or not. You said he washed up?”

“Yes,” said Xain. “He washed up with a canoe and that chest.”

“And his ship?” Vera said, cracking her knuckles.

“Destroyed,” Xain said. The kitsune narrowed his eyes – his sister was probably up to something.

“How convenient,” said Vera. “I’m not sure I trust the motives, or the sanity, of a trader who would willingly sail here.”

Xain scowled. “Don’t call him crazy,” he said, moving a little closer to the fox.

Taking a deep breath, Sive stepped into the conversation. “Vera, we’re goin’ nowhere,” he said, voice a little quieter than normal. “I know this all looks weird, and we ain’t got a lot of reasons ta trust Rasca, but it’d be nice if ya stopped insultin’ Xain’s fishin’ or his relationships. We got bigger things ta worry ‘bout.”

“Yep,” Yisele said, flopping onto the bed and sagging into it. “So, how about we make ourselves at home? Since we’re going to be here a little while.” She shot a couple glances at Xain and at Vera.

Vera straightened up. “Alright,” she said, pointing at Xain. “You better be on your best behavior. I don’t know why I shouldn’t drag your a** back to the village right now.”

Slumping his shoulders, Xain brushed aside Vera’s claw. “You won’t need to worry about me,” he said, voice a little too monotone to be serious. He watched as the rest of his family started to make their way outside, bring in boxes of what smelled and looked like clothes and food, and throw down blankets on the ground. The ground of his house. The house that they were barging into. And they really wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be his house for long. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

Xain woke up with a snort.

Pulling himself up, the kitsune sat and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A small amount of moonlight shone through the cracks and gaps in the door, but that wasn’t nearly enough to help him. It took a minute or two for him to pick out the blanket, bits of straw poking through the mattress, the rough texture of the earth walls, and the lump that was lying in bed next to him. His heart skipped a beat; he rested a forepaw on the outline. That’s when he realized that the lump was just a little too large to be Rasca. Plus, Rasca snored. Whoever was sleeping next to him was mumbling about something.

Xain sighed. That was Sive. Turning his head to the left, he stared out at the rows of blankets that stretched across the center of his house. Vera, Yisele, Iva, and then Rasca, the fox as far away as possible. As he blinked, eyes tired and eyelids sagging, yesterday started catching up to him.
`
Vera had certainly had a couple of excuses to yell at Xain. While Sive had been polite enough not to bring it up, Vera had picked up and read through Rasca’s notebook. Which meant she had seen the butt drawing. She’d spent the next half-hour yelling at Rasca and Xain, while everyone else had to hold her back and calm her down. And then she’d been very adamant that Rasca and Xain sleep as far apart as possible. Iva had volunteered to sleep next to Rasca, to “keep an eye on him.” Xain suspected that it also meant she didn’t have to be next to Vera. Or any of the siblings; Iva had spent much of yesterday flinching, grimacing, and trying to keep a wide berth, especially when it had looked like any of them had been about to argue with each other. Which was fair.

Xain pulled his legs a little closer, trying to figure out why he’d woken up. Sure, Sive wasn’t exactly quiet, but Xain was usually a deep sleeper. Sleeping through snowstorms and spending days fishing had helped with that. And, well, he didn’t exactly want to be awake. His heart pounded as he remembered how much Vera hated him. How much Vera hated this house. How much Vera hated him being with Rasca. And there she was, sleeping soundly next to the bed, not in a care in the world. That’s what he hated the most about his conversations with her. No matter what he said, no matter how confident he felt, he’d always end up scared and angry and tired afterwards. She always won, even when he did.

No, that wasn’t Sive. Xain swore he could hear something outside. Something that sounded like rumbling. Was that a storm? He hadn’t seen anything on the horizon before he’d gone to sleep, and it didn’t feel especially cold. Taking care to dump his blankets onto Sive – his brother-in-law immediately pulled those blankets closer, kicking the sheets and humming contentedly – Xain slowly pushed himself off the mattress. He tried to keep as quiet as possible. The last thing he wanted was his family to ask what he was doing wandering around the house in the middle of night. Fortunately, outside of Iva twitching once or twice (she appeared to have a firm grip on Rasca, which didn’t sting at all, nor would it make things awkward in the morning), nobody moved.

Grabbing the door, Xain gently pulled it aside, wincing as he heard it creak. Not much he could do about that. Besides, as he poked his head outside and turned his head towards the sea, he realized that he had worse problems.

Not a single cloud made its way across the sky, letting the half moon cast its light over the tentacles that rose up from the sea below. Five waved and wiggled about, the moonlight creating shadows that stretched out all the way to where Xain stood. Some tentacles dropped to grip the edge of the white cliff; their slimy green skin glistened as they dug into the cliffs with a crunching noise. The kitsune stood there, frozen. The monster was looking for something. All the kitsune (and the fox) laying in the earth house must’ve been tempting for it, especially with winter on the way. Monsters always got more feisty in the winter. Gripping onto the doorframe hard enough to start burying his claws in the wood, Xain squinted. There was something almost familiar in the way those tentacles moved, the screeching noise that echoed its way up from below. Maybe-

The tentacles all flinched as the monster grew silent. Then the tentacles began to surge forward, crawling across the grass towards the house “S***!” Xain yelled, yanking himself free from the doorframe. His tails began to twitch and curl up as flames sprung to life on his paws. Instinctively, Xain hurled a fireball at one of the tentacles. The fire traveled almost too slowly, but the tentacle bridged the gap all too soon.

Vera, still dressed up in yesterday’s clothes (no one wore pajamas), shot out of the house as soon as the fireball collided with the tentacle. The monster screeched in pain as skin dried up, burned out. The smell of flesh and the sound of the monster almost drowned out Vera’s cursing. Her fighting experience kicked in – without looking at Xain, without saying so much as a word, she ran forward. Ice started to form on her paws, taking on the shape of spears. Screaming in rage, Vera began to hurl them at the monster.

Taking that opportunity to fall back, Xain almost got knocked over by the others. He got a jolt from a shirtless Sive, whose lightning had started to wrap around him, and Iva brushed past him as she, carrying Yisele, shot towards the monster. The monster accepted the challenge; it began raising its tentacles, trying its best to crush the kitsune that were attacking it. But, since it couldn’t look over the cliff, it couldn’t do much. With her husband quickly catching up to her, Vera sidestepped one tentacle and stabbed a second one before it could fall on her.

Xain felt a paw grab his own. Whirling his head back, Xain caught sight of Rasca. The fox, who had wrapped himself up in a blanket, looked sluggish. Slumped, eyelids drooping, Rasca looked like he had no idea what was going on. It took Rasca a couple seconds of staring past Xain and towards the fight before the fox did anything else.

“T-t-t-t-t-th,” stammered Rasca, eyes bulging as his grip on Xain (and the blanket) got a little tighter. In the meantime, while the monster had focused mostly on trying to get past Sive and Vera’s defenses – that lightning caused its tentacles to quiver, which made it easier for Vera to stab them – Iva had set Yisele down. With Yisele out of her paws, Iva had started sprinting across the grass and making some ice spears of her own. “th-th-tha-that c-c-could not-.”

“I thinks it is,” Xain said, glancing back at the monster. Almost as if to confirm their suspicions, the monster howled in surprise as Iva hurled an icy spear over the edge of the cliff.

Rasca gulped. “But I swore I it shot!” he said. The fox’s eyes darted up to Xain, hoping for a confirmation.

Not that Xain could give one. “Dids you hit it?” Xain said, tilting his head.

“I not am, am not, a good aim,” said Rasca. The fox bit his lip and looked away from Xain.

Now the air smelled like blood and burning flesh, and Xain could feel the tingle of electricity running up his spine. Wonderful. He glanced over at the battle scene. Sive and Vera seemed to be holding back three of the tentacles, while Iva and Yisele were preoccupied with the other two. One tentacle slid towards Iva, pulling up earth as it did. She effortlessly threw herself over the tentacle, stabbing her spears into it in the process. The monster screeched and drew back its tentacles, especially after Yisele sent a wave of fire in their direction. Not all terrifying to watch. “It, might not haves worked,” said Xain absentmindedly. The kitsune shook his head. “It does not matter. The monsters get hungry this times of year. It must have smelled us and decided it was worths the risk.”

Mouth agape, Rasca watched the battle for a few more seconds before responding. “Looks like it not was,” the fox said slowly. His head turned up to Xain. “What we do?”

“You stay heres,” said Xain, pointing back to the inside of the house. He didn’t know how he sounded so calm. Maybe after all this running around and dealing with family, he was finally getting used to this crap. Maybe. “You haves no magic and no weapons, and you could get hurts.”

“But, you?” Rasca said. The fox had already started to move back inside, but wouldn’t let go of Xain or stop shaking. “You are, not good, with magic.”

Setting his other paw on Rasca’s, Xain nodded. “I guess I will learns,” said Xain. He looked into Rasca’s eyes for a second – bloodshot, slightly red as the fox started to cry, a tad big. Then Xain used his second paw to pull apart Rasca’s claws. Taking the hint, the fox let go and slipped back into the house. Which left Xain to turn around and run towards the fight as the door slowly shut behind him.

“What took you so long?” screamed Vera, voice hoarse. As Xain got closer, he could see why. Everyone looked exhausted. The tentacles had started closing in on Vera and Sive, who were currently kneeling on the ground. Their ice and lightning didn’t stretch nearly as far anymore, though the tentacles were covered with scars and cuts. Iva had started moving closer to them, with Yisele (who had range, but not power) providing backup. Xain didn’t know what Vera expected him to do, but he had to give it a shot. They could still win this fight. If nothing else, they could make their way back to the house – the tentacles hadn’t gotten too close to it yet.

“Sorry, I was busy,” said Xain. Not much of a battle cry, but he made up for it. Thrusting his paw out, he channeled magic through him and cast a fireball at the tentacles. It exploded against the nearest one, showering embers over Vera and Sive (whoops). Xain almost choked on the smell of singed flesh, but he’d done his job; one tentacle looked much more shriveled and battered than it had before. The monster roared, drowning out the rest of the battle.

Iva took that as her cue to meet up with the others. Grabbing onto the nearest tentacle and leaping over it, she turned her ice spear into a axe. As a couple tentacles chased her, and Yisele yelled at her to turn back, Iva hurled at the axe at the shriveled tentacle. It moved fast enough that the monster could only pull back the shriveled tentacle slightly; the axe ripped off the tentacle’s tip, squirting blue blood onto the ground in the process.

The monster didn’t take that well. The tentacles tensed, then shot out in all directions. Vera and Sive were smart enough to squeeze past the tentacles as soon as Iva made the shot. Iva, however, was less lucky. She tried to slow down and turn away, but managed to get hit in the back by a tentacle. For a couple seconds, Iva flew in the air, crashing down not far away from Yisele. Who also didn’t take that well.

While Yisele screamed and began hurling fireballs at the now retreating tentacles, Xain heard a whump! come from the direction of the house. His blood froze as he glanced back. One tentacle had gone far enough to smack into one of the walls. It oozed back slowly, leading behind sagging earth bricks and ripped-up ground. The wall hadn’t fallen yet. However, given how much it had bent inwards, it was only a matter of time. But Xain didn’t have time to run back. Iva was injured, the creature needed just a little more persuasion before it left, and Xain didn’t want to see his house fall apart.

If Xain had set the stage for Iva, Yisele was setting the stage for everyone else. She growled in rage as she scorched the tentacles around her, forcing them back. Xain had never seen her so furious before, but it was obvious that couldn’t last. Yisele’s legs had already started to buckle, and her fireballs shrunk. Fortunately, Sive and Vera were there to target the damaged tentacle. They shot everything they had at it, spraying more blue blood. The monster’s screams weakened as tentacle after tentacle slipped off the edge of the cliff. With Xain also using fire to hold back the tentacles, it was only a matter of time before the monster gave up.

Stopping only a few feet away from the edge, Sive took a deep breath. Enormous bolts of lightning shot out of his claws, illuminating the cliff in white light. Blood, scorch marks, patches of earth all cast shadows. The monster, with one long, low, loud scream, pulled the last of its tentacles down the cliff walls, shredding rocks along the way. Several loud splashes rang out, followed by a few softer ones (likely debris). Everything fell silent.

Xain blinked, trying to get rid of the spots that danced across his eyes. His legs ached, his chest pounded, his lungs screamed, his ears rang, and all of his senses had been overwhelmed by fire and blood. He could even see some embers floating around – Xain stamped them out. As the cliff and half-moon snapped back into focus, Xain caught sight of Sive and Vera, partly covered in blue blood. Sive didn’t even have the ability to pull himself up; Vera, huffing and stumbling across the grass, had set his arm on her shoulder. They made their way towards the house, neither of them giving Xain a look. Not that he could blame them. Right now, all he wanted was to sleep.

“Haha!” Iva said. Looking over in her direction (and trying to avoid seeing the house), Xain saw her kneeling on the ground. Based on the green patch of ground in front of her, she’d clearly thrown up. Puddles of water around her feet, she held her passed-out girlfriend in her arms. Xain’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly saw Yisele’s chest rising and falling. She was okay. Iva almost seemed to be talking to her, so Iva was likely less alright. “That was amazing! You were amazing! Let’s do that again!”

“Let’s not,” said Vera, walking past Iva. Somehow, the force and weight of Vera’s voice managed to get both Iva and Xain to snap out of their fugue states. Xain found himself walking up towards Vera and Sive, while Iva pulled up Yisele and joined them. Which was when it became obvious that Xain was the only one who could walk. One of Iva’s legs buckled, and blood trickled down from her mouth. Hopefully that meant she had just (literally) bit the dust. Making his way over, Xain pulled one of Iva’s arms over his shoulder. That almost caused him to fall over, but Xain dug his paws into the ground and kept moving. Iva tried to say thanks. It came out more like a grunt, but Xain got the message.

Finally getting the nerve to look over at his house, Xain restrained a sob. One wall had indeed caved in, pulling down part of the ceiling in the process. Earth bricks, some crumpled or broken, lay in a pile. The house had become more of a lean-to, which, outside of there only being a couple holes, wasn’t ideal. Not that Xain could do anything about it.

Stopping in front of the house, Vera looked back at Xain. “Draw up some water from the well,” she said. “We’ll get the blankets in order and make sure that everyone’s alright. Especially Iva.”

“Nope,” Iva said, staggering back and almost taking Xain down with her. “I’m one hundred percent a-okay, yep.”

“Sure,” Vera said. “So you can go keep an eye on my sister, and we’ll keep an eye on you.”

Iva paused. Then, lifting her arm over Xain’s head, she grabbed onto the side of his house as she carried Yisele towards the door.

“And bring Rasca, if you have to,” Vera said to Xain. She sighed. “I don’t like it, but I’m too tired to give a f***. And you’re probably the best off if he tries anything.”

“Rasca!” Xain called. “Could you come out?” A couple seconds later, the fox wriggled his way out of the house, making his way around Vera and shooting towards Xain. Coming to a stop beside Xain, Rasca looked back at Xain’s family and sucked in a breath. The family ignored Rasca. Vera pushed against the door, leading her husband into the house. She left the door open long enough for Iva to carry Yisele inside.

Looking up at Xain, Rasca tilted his head. “Are they?” Rasca began, but Xain nodded.

“Fine,” said Xain. The kitsune started walking towards the back of the house, picking the side that wasn’t falling apart. He gestured for the fox to follow. “Hurt, tired, but fine. We are getting waters for them.”

Rasca quickly fell into step with Xain. “You, smell,” Rasca said with a sniff.

“Yes,” Xain said. Stopping in front of the well, the kitsune sighed. “That is the reason why I do not like fighting monsters. Other than getting eaten.”

The fox had probably caught sight of the streaks of blood on Xain’s shirt, if the gagging was anything to go by. Eugh, some of it was also dripping down one of Xain’s ears – no wonder that part of his face felt so warm. “Getting eaten, would bad be,” Rasca said slowly. “Be bad.”

Grabbing the end of the rope that stretched down into the darkness, Xain handed it over to Rasca. “I am, tired,” the kitsune said. “Could you does this?”

Rasca took the rope and nodded.

“Then I will go get the basins,” Xain said. With that, the kitsune turned around and walked off. Or, would’ve, if Rasca hadn’t piped up after Xain took a few steps.

“Are you, okay?” said Rasca with a cough.

Xain paused. Taking a deep long breath, the kitsune bowed his head. “Maybe.”

The well’s rotting wood creaked as Rasca started to pull the bucket up. “They, want us to go, to the village, they not do?”

Looking back at Rasca, Xain shrugged. “Probably,” the kitsune said, a bit more despair creeping into his voice than he would’ve liked. That he had to admit it at all almost drained him more than fighting the monster had. If it wasn’t for the idea that popped into his head, he probably would’ve started crying. “Are you going back to sleep, Rasca?”

Rasca took a deep breath. The fox, legs spread and arms shaking, looked like he was either anxious or figured out how cold it was outside. Either way, it was enough for them to hear the clonk! of the bucket as it collided against the side of the well. “No, probably,” said Rasca slowly, looking up at Xain. “Why?”

“I would like helps from you after all this,” said Xain, turning back and falling into the shadow of the house. His house. Their house, really – his and Rasca’s. They felt comfortable here. They liked being here. They belonged here. Nobody could tell them otherwise. “What do you thinks of my family?”

Silence. “Not great?” Rasca said eventually. Xain didn’t move or look over at the fox. Rasca took that as a sign to keep going. “They care, but, too much? They listen not to you. They scare me. You are great, Xain. You, care, about me. We do both bad things, for bad reasons, but we get better. They us saved, but maybe they brought the monster here? I, do not know.”

Gripping the wall, Xain gave a faint nod. “What I thought,” the kitsune said, pausing before he made his way around the corner. “Let us, do a bad thing together, for once.”

“Okay,” said Rasca quietly.

“Get up.”

Unsurprisingly, Vera was the first to do so. With a yawn, she pulled herself up from where she had been lying on her stomach. “Xain?” she said, blinking as she tried to pivot and catch the sunlight that filtered through the door. “Did you get any sleep at-”

She paused, squinting up at her brother. Xain sat on the bed, Rasca to his right and Sive curled up in a ball and wrapped in blankets behind him. Holding Rasca’s gun, Xain glared down at his sister. “What is that?” Vera said, her eyes getting narrower. It didn’t take her long at all to get suspicious.

Xain reached out a paw; Rasca took it. “You’re done,” Xain said. “You’re going home. All of you.”

“Really?” Vera said, tilting her head. Behind her, Iva started to pull herself up. Xain tried his best not to grip the barrel of the gun any tighter, but relaxed slightly when Iva clutched her head and mumbled. “I’m pretty sure you’re coming with us.”

“No, I’m not,” said Xain. “I gave you a chance to be nice, to be friendly, to give a s*** about me instead of pretending to, and you broke into my house. Get out.”

Shrinking back from the gun, Vera set a paw on her hip. “Iva’s hurt,” she said. “Yisele and Sive are still sound asleep. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back now.”

“It’s almost winter,” Xain said. “Do you want to wait and try your luck? You know how the snowstorms get around here. We’re going to wake Yisele and Sive up, and then you four are going to get out.”

Vera huffed. “You can try,” she said, gesturing to Iva. Which would’ve worked better if Iva wasn’t leaning forward, shaking her head and muttering something about Yisele. “It’s us against you, and I think you’d lose. Right, Iva?”

“What?” Iva said, looking over at everyone else. She blinked a few times, not focusing on anything in particular. “Look, I really didn’t come here to fight things. I like y’all, but I don’t want to get involved in, whatever this is.”

“And you would have to fight things if you left,” Xain said, glaring at Vera. “The monster only showed up when you did.”

Vera bared her canines. “That was just a coincidence,” she said with a voice that Xain wouldn’t describe as confident.

“Really?” Xain said. “The monster, for no reason whatsoever, decided to attack the random house when it was most hungry and when there were the most people inside. Sure, that makes sense.”

She paused for a couple seconds, then glared at Rasca. “Whatever the case,” she said, “Maybe your friend is a little more dangerous than that monster.” The fox shrunk slightly at the comment.

Xain snorted. It felt almost refreshing that Vera changed her argument. She tried to brush it off, but he had a point she had to acknowledge. He could work with that. “Which was why he stayed in the house for the entire fight,” he said.

“With that,” Vera said, gesturing to the gun. “Whatever that is. I know it isn’t yours. It smells like Rasca.”

“That was a big monster,” said Xain. He pointed to the end of the gun. “And this is not.”

Vera sneered as she pulled off blankets. “We’re not either, and we still kicked it’s a**” she said, turning her head back to Iva. “Do you know what that is?”

Having buried her head in her paws, it took Iva a moment to realize Vera was talking to her. “What?” Iva said, looking at Xain. She focused on the gun; Vera’s eyes followed hers. “Huh?”

Xain sighed. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to threaten his family, but he’d brought the gun out for a reason. “It’s a, gun,” Xain said slowly, looking over at Rasca to make sure he’d got the pronunciation right. When Rasca nodded, Xain continued. “It puts, stones, in your head.”

“What?” Vera said, scooting back far enough to almost fall onto Yisele; fortunately, Iva pulled Yisele out of the way. Vera opened and closed her mouth. “W-what? You wouldn’t point a, a weapon on me.”

Letting out a deep breath, Xain nodded. “I am. Get out.”

Vera sounded just a little more frantic. “But, we can’t leave,” she said quickly. “Sive and Yisele are wiped out, and Iva is hurt.”

“Fair,” Xain said, looking back at Sive. Despite the conversation, he was still sound asleep. Hm. “But I don’t think waking them up and getting them to walk back to town is going to hurt them, and I’m pretty sure Iva can handle it. It’s probably a lot easier than, I dunno, breaking into my house and attracting a monster.”

“That’s,” Vera started, before gritting her teeth. She turned back to Iva. “That’s beyond the point. Iva, you’re not alright. You can’t leave, weapon or no. I don’t think he even knows how it works.”

Ugh, of course Vera had called his bluff. The most Xain could do was readjust the gun and try to look confident. “Look,” Iva said, staring down at Vera, “Do you really want to test him? We did kinda break into his house, and he’s probably right that we brought that monster with us. I went along with all this because I was worried about him, but it looks like he’s doing pretty okay?”

“But, Rasca,” Vera said, pointing at the fox in question.

Looking the fox up and down, Iva sighed. “What about Rasca? I’m not convinced he’s a problem. He seems really small and skitterish. If he was going to make a move against Xain at all, it probably would’ve been when Xain waited forever before going to market. There’s no way Xain could’ve kept himself and Rasca fed. And now it’s winter, Rasca knows he doesn’t need to hold Xain hostage or anything to go to the village, and Rasca doesn’t want to kill his only company for the next couple months.”

As much as it hurt his pride to admit, Iva was right – Rasca had had much better reasons to attack Xain when they’d been rationing food. Raising his gun, Xain nodded. “And why would Rasca give me this, if it’s his?”

“What if Rasca has friends?” Vera said. “What then?”

“Ah yes,” said Iva, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She realized that was a bad idea, if her resting her head against her knees was anything to go by. “Those friends who have never shown up, don’t have anything to steal, and would definitely be angry at Xain for taking care of Rasca.”

Vera huffed. “Unless they decide to make him a slave,” she said.

“Because a single slave would be worth their time,” said Iva.

“Maybe he would be Rasca’s servant,” Vera said.

Iva groaned. “Vera, let’s go home,” she said. “If Rasca’s friends haven’t shown up for months, and I don’t think they have, then they probably think Rasca is dead. That or you’re counting on a ship or a bunch of raiders picking out a house in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of winter, for someone they don’t even know is there. Xain is fine, Rasca is fine, we broke into Xain’s house, he’s rightfully pissed, he has food, water, and shelter - sort of - and I really don’t want to risk more monsters showing up, even if they shouldn't show up.”

“But-” Vera said, voice weakening.

Nudging Yisele with a hindpaw, Iva shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “I still feel like shit – hurt my chest or something, I dunno - but I’m heading back.”

“Uh, you hurt your chest and got a concussion,” Xain said, reaching back to poke Sive in the side. Sive growled slightly.

“Yeah, I’m better off if I go to the village,” said Iva. As Yisele unsteadily pulled her head off the pillow, Iva reached out a paw to balance her girlfriend. “It’s a short walk, and I don’t think any of y’all are healers.” When Vera opened her mouth, Iva said, “With medicine.”

Poking Sive a couple more times, Xain breathed a sigh of relief when Sive finally started to move. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” said Xain, focusing on Vera. Her head snapped back; she scowled. “But I think the monster was too much. I’m fine, especially with the stuff you’ve given me. You’re all going home. See you in the spring.”

The next few minutes slipped away. Xain didn’t have much else to say – Yisele was awake enough to hear, and Iva explained things to Sive when he woke up. Yisele and Sive were both hesitant about leaving, but a few glances at a determined Iva and a defeated Vera convinced them. It wasn’t long before they were rolling up blankets, packing up food, and making sure that Iva could walk.

And she could; every couple steps caused her to tip one way or another, but Sive and Yisele could keep her upright. No one said a word. Other than a few glances cast at Xain, his family almost pretended he didn’t exist. Like this was a perfectly normal trip to a neighbor’s house. Which Xain was fine with.

But he could feel the tension in the air, especially as his family started filing out the door. Xain followed, standing at the edge of the door with Rasca next to him. With Yisele and Sive on either side of Iva, and with it being a bad idea for anyone to stand in front of Iva, it was Vera at the back of the group. And it was Vera who turned back and glared at her brother.

“You really think you’ve won, don’t you?” she said, glancing between his face and the gun he held in his paws.

Xain didn’t respond. He shifted the gun slightly, to make sure the barrel wasn’t pointing at Rasca. Even though Xain knew that the gun wasn’t loaded, he still felt a little uncomfortable about it.

“I don’t know how you can live like this,” Vera said. Sive reached back and tapped her shoulder, but she brushed his paw off. “In their house. Eating out of their bowls. Fishing with his rod. Sleeping in their bed. Xain, why?” Beyond her scowl and the fire in her eyes, her voice rose up at the end. She sounded confused.

“Because I didn’t want to let this house fall apart,” said Xain slowly. “We were born here. We grew up here. I just, didn’t want their efforts to go to waste.”

A pause. Vera stood still, her head slowly turning as she stared at Rasca, then at the house, and then towards the sea. Or, maybe past the sea. It didn’t seem like she was focusing on anything. After a few seconds, Vera sneered and pointed to the sagging wall. “Great job doing that,” Vera said, voice breaking halfway through. With that, she wiped her eyes, turned around, and joined the others as they walked away.

Xain’s family made their way to the village, turning into specks that faded into the dying grass. It wasn’t long at all before the kitsune could barely spot them on the horizon. And not much longer before they vanished from view.

“Um,” Rasca said eventually. The fox leaned against the doorframe, looking up at Xain. “That was, a lot.” Rasca bit his lip. “Are you alright?”

Sniffling, Xain felt his legs buckle. He let the gun drop to floor as he propped an elbow against the doorway and set his paw over his eyes. Tears stung his cheeks as he tried to hold back his sobs. “Y-yes,” Xain said, the word jumping out of his mouth. It felt forced, hollow. It was.

Wrapping his arms around Xain, the fox pressed his head into Xain’s chest. “I am sorry,” Rasca said. “I, they did not like, do not, me, and.”

“N-n-no,” Xain began, voice fading out as he cried more, “Y-y-y-you-” But he couldn’t finish that thought; he sagged towards the floor, Rasca moving out of the way so that they were kneeling on the ground. The sun, having risen above the cliffs, shone down on them, the battered house, the blood-splattered and burnt ground, and the gun that had been left on the ground. Which Xain had used to threaten his family. To get back his house. Which was falling apart. And it was only a matter of time before the snowstorms rolled out.

He did have Rasca, though. Rasca would be there for him, and he would be there for Rasca. And maybe that would make everything else a little more tolerable.



It only took a couple days for winter to settle in. The first snowstorm rolled through as Rasca and Xain worked to make new blocks of earth. They were able to get the ones they’d made next to the fire, but it was obvious that the ground outside was just too hard to break through. However, the wooden beams on the inside of the house, which held the walls and ceiling together, hadn’t actually broken; they’d just been bent. Thanks to that, Rasca and Xain had to get a little clever. It took a lot of rearranging and reshaping, but they were able to improvise some nails to jam into the beams (once Rasca explained what nails were), finish the ceiling, and start reconstructing the wall. It meant a lot of nights on low sleep, huddled around the fire as the winds from snowstorm after snowstorm tried to howl their way into the house. Xain and Rasca would sometimes wake up to find frost in their fur. Still, after a couple weeks of constant work, the house was beginning to look almost normal again. Sure, Xain needed to check on the basin and the fishing basket, which had gotten slightly crushed when the house had sagged. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to put the fishing equipment in the chest. It meant a lot to him, after all.

His family hadn’t come back. Xain could guess a couple reasons why. It was possible Iva’s father had put his foot down, or the weather and their injuries made it hard for them to come back, or Vera had, unlikely as that sounded, given up. He didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he’d finally stood up to his family. He’d finally held his ground against Vera, and he’d finally gotten his way for once. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure how long that’d last. When the weather got a little friendlier, he was sure they’d be back at his door again. Vera would point out the state of the house, the others would say that it’d be safer for both Xain and Rasca. Xain had won because the monster had shown up. He wasn’t sure if he could win again.

At least that left him more time with Rasca. More time spent talking, increasingly more time spent cozying up in the bed. Xain could still feel something of a rift between them. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Rasca sending Agneta out. Xain got the impression it would take weeks, if not months, for Agneta to get to where Rasca lived. However, she’d be back eventually. With foxes. Ideally ones like Rasca, but that wasn’t a guarantee.

On top of that, Vera had been so harsh to Rasca; the fox still flinched whenever Xain mentioned her. Rasca didn’t seem like the type who’d be out for revenge, but Xain’s family had ignored his personal space so many times, called him a threat, kept him apart from Xain. How would another fox take that?

Not that Xain felt like prying, especially after all the family drama. Rasca didn’t ask about Xain’s parents, or why Vera had wanted Xain to leave the house so badly. But, despite as fast and as angrily as Vera and Xain had been talking, Rasca should’ve heard enough to make some good guesses. If Rasca wasn’t going to bring up Xain’s family – and Rasca hadn’t said a word about Xain’s parents since Vera left – then Xain wasn’t going to bring up Agneta coming back. They’d cross those bridges when they got there.

And, well, there was another bridge on the horizon. Maybe it made for a bigger rift than anything else. With things settling down, and with Xain not having to worry about freezing to death all the time, he could think about other things. Like how close he was to Rasca all of the time. Like how he’d gotten familiar with how soft Rasca’s fur was, the way Rasca’s chest rose and fell, how Rasca’s tail ran up and down Xain’s back.

It was starting to get cold enough that they’d opted to peel off their clothes and wrap the blankets tightly around them when they went to sleep. Xain was used to that – turned out his fur was a lot better at keeping him warm, compared to thin clothes that let the heat slip through. Xain was not used to Rasca clinging onto a bundle of their clothes, and how they’d smell like him in the morning. Sure, they could’ve worn more of the thicker clothes that Vera had brought, but Rasca was uncomfortable with anything that wasn’t what he’d washed in with. And Xain felt like they were just fine right now.

Xain tried not to think about any of these things as he sat at one end of the table, breaking off a piece of bread and nibbling on it. Across from him, Rasca had set an arm down on the table, glancing between it and the notebook he was furiously scribbling in. Since Rasca had set the notebook on his lap, Xain couldn’t get a glimpse. Fairly normal for them both. They’d been talking so much that Xain felt like he’d finally got the grasp of singular and plural words, and Rasca only messed up once every few sentences. They’d gotten the hang of each other’s language – what was there to say? Though that probably wasn’t the only reason they were being so quiet.

“What are you drawing?” Xain said, realizing a couple seconds later that the words had come out of his mouth. He blushed and looked away when Rasca looked up at him.

Rasca opened and closed his mouth. “My arm?” Rasca said after a minute. He stretched his claws, tapping them against the desk. “I want to draw more than landscapes. Bodies, figures, poses, stuff that like. Like that. So I want to figure out arms.”

Nodding his head, Xain said, “How long have you been doing this?”

“A while?” said Rasca, tilting his head. Whoop, had Xain said the wrong thing? It sounded more like Rasca was unsure than anything else. Not that it helped Xain’s anxiety. “Before I ended up here. You saw that with the-” Rasca’s voice dropped – “butt drawing.” With an awkward smile, the fox shifted in his seat. “I just, want more do to. To do. Want to do more. Do better. Yeah.”

“Uh, what kind of stuff have you drawn?” Xain said after a pause. He set a paw behind his back and sighed. Somehow, it had gotten harder for Xain to talk to Rasca the more that they understood each other.

Rasca sighed. “Arms and legs and stuff,” he said, staring down at his notebook. Whatever he saw, it was enough to make him wince. “I am, still figuring them out. All the little claws are hard to work with. I have done not whole bodies.”

A thought popped up in Xain’s head. His cheeks flushed and his mind scrambled as he tried to figure out whether or not he should say it. Against his better judgment, he went for it. “What kinds of bodies?” Xain said slowly. “Haves you ever tried to draw, down there?” Wait. What was he saying? This was a bad idea. This was such a terrible idea. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“Down, there?” said Rasca, biting his lip. “I, I, I have, though about drawing, nudes, but I, that would be-”

Xain coughed. Well, if he’d said it, and Rasca hadn’t said no, he might as well keeping going with it. “I could model and-” he said, before pausing. Nope. Nope. He wasn’t going to deal with this. He wasn’t going to dig this hole any deeper. “I am so sorry,” the kitsune went on, shaking his paws and his head. “That was a, a, odd things of me to say, and I do not wants to make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking his head in return, Rasca said, “No, that is fine, I did not think about it, and you brought up a good, a good, a good-” The fox set down his pencil and buried his head in his paws. “Fine!” Rasca blurted out. “Okay, I think you are hot as f***, and I would really like to, like to, f***, okay?”

Both of them froze in place. The room fell silent, except for the howling of the wind outside, which rattled its way through the blankets and objects that Xain had shoved through cracks and holes in the wall. Xain didn’t notice the chill. “Really?” Xain said slowly. “I, I do too.”

“Huh?” said Rasca, pulling his head up. “You, would?”

Xain grinned sheepishly. “We do not exactly have anything else to do,” said Xain. When Rasca sighed, the grin turned into a grimace. “But, you are kind and friendly and care about me, and I think you are, really hot.”

“I, have not heard anyone say that about me,” said Rasca, biting his lip.

“Someone should have told you sooner,” Xain said.

Another pause. Well, here he was. Admitting his feelings for Rasca. It was, strange. He’d never been attracted to someone so much before. Sure, he’d had crushes. A couple friends, someone that he certainly didn’t want to mention to Vera. But they’d never gone anywhere, mostly because they hadn’t been able to. This time, though, Rasca felt the same way about him. And, after all the months that they’d spent around each other, all the ways that they’d taken care of each other, all the effort they’d put into understanding each other, Xain didn’t have to worry about messing up anymore. He could express his feelings without scaring Rasca off.

“So,” Rasca said, breaking the silence. He coughed. “How long, have you felt like that?”

Xain shrugged. “A while?” he said. “I definitely felt that way with the, uh, butt conversation.”

“Yeah, that,” Rasca said with a snort. “That was, that happened.”

Leaning forward, Xain stared down at the table. “And maybe before that? There was that time you ran off.” Pulling his head up, Xain raised a paw in response to Rasca’s opening his mouth. “I do not blames you for that. I just, was scared and tired, and I missed you. Curling up in bed with you, all that.”

Rasca nodded. “I think was it, after the kiss, for me?” he said slowly. “It just, felt nice. Maybe not the kiss part? Just how close you were? And some part of me started seeing you differently after that.”

More silence. Xain could feel a few questions in the back of his mind – and Rasca probably did too – but Xain had no idea how to put any of them to words.

Closing his book and setting it on the table, Rasca sighed and ran his paws through the fur on his forehead. “So, have you ever, done this before?” Rasca said.

Xain shook his head. “You?” he said.

“Me neither,” said Rasca, looking away. “And nobody really explained it me to. So, sorry for the next couple hours.”

“No one told me either,” Xain said. He reached out and set a paw down on the middle of the table; after a couple seconds of hesitation, Rasca placed his own paw over Xain’s. “Other than an awkward conversations with my parents. We will give it our best shot, okay?”

Looking up at Xain, Rasca nodded. “Okay.”

A few more seconds passed as Xain and Rasca stared into each others eyes. Glancing down at the half-eaten bread lying next to Rasca’s paw, Xain said, “Right after we finish eating.”

Rasca blinked and stared down at the food. “Yes, right,” said Rasca, grabbing the bread with his other paw. “Eat first, yes.” He took a deep breath, then smiled faintly. “And it would be nice if, you did pose, uh, however you want.”

“I would love to,” said Xain. “Whatever I can do to help a wonderful artist get better.”

Shoving the bread into his mouth, Rasca spat out crumbs as he said, “Thanks. And, thanks for tolerating me.”

“And thanks for tolerating me,” Xain said with a nod. “I have not made it easy for you. I would like to do better.”

Wow.

Letting out a long, slow breath, Xain listened to the crackle of the fire and the roar of the wind outside as he wrapped his arms around Rasca. He felt, relieved. Which didn’t make too much sense. His heart pounded, he was drenched in sweat, half his body ached, and he felt that combination of awake and exhausted that comes up staying up until the late hours of the night. Like he could barely move a limb, but something in him refused to go to sleep. But he barely paid attention to that. He couldn’t even feel the cold that tried to seep its way through the walls, what with him in the embrace of the fox he cared about. He didn’t care about how the bedsheets had been tossed around. The way that his and Rasca’s scents mixed together felt right. The way that Rasca cozied up, pressing his back against Xain’s chest, felt right. Rasca’s contented sighs felt right.

“Want to go again?” said Rasca, voice slightly hoarse. He turned his head to look into Xain’s eyes; the fox smiled. “I think we just about figured this out.”

Xain grinned back. “I am exhausted,” the kitsune said, moving his paws up to Rasca’s chest and feeling the fox’s heartbeat. It was as fast as Xain’s. “Can we at least take a break first?”

Nodding, Rasca yawned. “Sure,” he said, pausing as he set his paws over Xain’s. “Was that good? Did you like that?”

“That was amazing,” Xain said. “Once we got the hang of things.”

Rasca’s smile turned a little more sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “I got a little, carried away.”

“And we are both new to this,” said Xain. “As long as we are a little nicer next time around, we should be fine.”

Laughing for long enough for his voice to crack, Rasca turned his head away and sank into the mattress. For once, the silence that settled over them didn’t feel awkward. They both needed water, and they’d probably be sleeping well into the morning, but they had all the time in the world to lay down in bed. In each other’s arms. Basking in the afterglow.

“I am sorry,” Rasca whispered, quiet enough that Xain almost didn’t hear him.

“Hm?” said Xain, pulling his head closer to Rasca’s. “You did not do anything wrong. It still hurts, but I can always use some of the herbs that-”

Rasca sighed. “No, not that,” he said. A pause. “Well, I am also sorry for that, but am I just, I remember, that conversation. With your family. And the things they said.”

Xain wanted to interrupt and point out that it was Vera who had spent the whole time yelling at Rasca and accusing him of being a danger, but Xain got the impression that wasn’t what Rasca wanted to bring up. “Yeah?” Xain said.

“I should not have sold my equipment to Agneta and told her to head back to my country,” Rasca said quickly. “I feel like I am putting you in danger, Xain. I feel like I am a danger to you.”

“No, you are not,” Xain said after a slight hesitation. Which definitely didn’t prove Rasca’s point.

Rasca sighed. “I wish I had done things differently,” he said. “I do know not who she will bring back. Maybe good people. Maybe not. The country I come from is not a very nice place.”

Well. Rasca hadn’t brought up his country that much. He’d talked about his house, his father’s court, markets and courtyards and rivers. But not his father, or what happened to his father, or what kind of country he lived in (other than it had a king). Which Xain didn’t necessarily blame Rasca for, though Xain would’ve liked Rasca to bring that up sooner. “I trust Agneta to find the right people,” Xain replied.

“I have never seen anyone like her,” Rasca said. “Nobody where I live has. She seems like a good person, but what can she do?” A pause. “I should have gone with her. Or just made plans to go myself, after this winter. Or something. Just, I should have done this on my terms.”

Holding Rasca a little closer, Xain said, “Would I have gone with you?”

Silence. Xain felt a small pit settle in his stomach. “Maybe,” Rasca said eventually, possibly noticing the way that Xain started to shift uncomfortably. “Maybe I could have made a boat, shown up back home, told them all about my expedition and my findings, and did not tell them where I went or what I did. This ocean is big, and not very safe – maybe I could get away with it.”

“Do you need to do this expedition?” Xain said.

“What?” Rasca replied.

Brushing one of Rasca’s ears with the tip of his snout – the ear twitched – Xain said, “I know you wanted to see what was here, and you puts all that time and effort to get here, but do you need to let anyone know? It, sounds like you might be happier here? Maybe you do not need to do this.”

Rasca didn’t respond.

“I guess it does not matter,” said Xain, moving his paws up Rasca’s chest. “It is done, and we can only wait and see what happens. Maybe Agneta will come back.”

“Yeah,” Rasca said after a minute. “Maybe.”

Not exactly what Xain wanted to here. It was nice that Rasca regretted that decision, and Xain could see a few situations where Rasca’s decision wouldn’t amount to anything. Maybe Agneta wouldn’t be able to build a ship. Maybe Agneta wouldn’t make it across the ocean (but hopefully not because the ship sank or something). Not that Xain felt any more comfortable about the decision, or Rasca’s logic. It felt like progress, but not a lot of it.

“I am sorry for bringing down the mood,” Rasca said. “Would be it a bad time to ask if you want to be my boyfriend?”

Xain blinked. “Um,” he said, trying to think carefully about his next words. “Really?”

Rasca turned his head back towards Xain’s. “I am unsure if I was, unsure,” he said. “Maybe I was scared. But, after tonight, I am more sure.”

“You do not have to decide,” said Xain. “We can still be unsure. Tonight does not have to means anything about who we are. We can just, be.”

“I know,” Rasca said. “But I like the idea of being a couple. Being called a boyfriend. Calling you a boyfriend. All the pet names and hugs and kisses, but as boyfriends. I think I would like that. The romance.”

“And I think I would like that too,” Xain said. “I would be happy to be your boyfriend.”

The fox let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” he said, “Because, I know am I, a screw-up, and I know you are worried, and for good reason, and I know I have caused you problems, and-”

“It is okay,” said Xain. “Because of you, I stood up to my sister. Because of you, I have learned so much mores about the world. I wish you would know that you do not have to try to explore the world like this. But, you have not been honest to me, and I have not been honest to you either.”

Yep, Rasca had started to cry. Blinking away a couple tears, the fox choked out, “Really?”

Xain nodded. “I never told you about my parents, or why my sisters really wanted me to leave this house,” he said.

“I heard, bits and pieces,” Rasca said with a sniffle. “You were talking so quickly, and you kinda were all angry, so I could not figure out what all you were saying, but-” a brief pause to catch his breath – “Something, er, happened to your parents? Your parents, died here?”

“They got sick,” Xain said. He paused, thinking about what to say. He hadn’t really thought about what had happened in a long time. And for good reason. “Something went through the village. I am not sure where it came from, but I know dad brought it back home with him. I, do not remember that time very well. I was asleep a lot of the time. I tried hard to stay awake, but I would close my eyes and it would be another day. Everyone was very sick – Vera was the worst, I think. She could barely move.”

Rasca sucked in a breath. “And your parents?”

Xain shook his head. “I think they tried to take care of me and my siblings, but that did not last long. We just, laid in a pile. Running out of food and water. They might have made sure we got more bread and fish, which probably made them weaker. I, do not remember when they died. Or, I feel like I might have heard or seen something, but everything was a bit of a haze. Vera got better first, and then Yisele. I was the last to get sick, and the last to get better. They carried me to the village, and that is when I started to get better.”

“Wow,” Rasca said. He blinked. “But you came back, right?”

Xain nodded. “It took a little while,” he said. “My sisters did not wants me to leave. First it was about getting back to normal, then it was about Yisele starting a relationship with the captain’s daughter, then it was about the harvest. I worked for Sive for a little while. He was, nice. Understanding. But I hated the work. I hated not knowing what had happened to the house. That my sisters had told me that my parents had died. That I had not said goodbye. So I went back.”

A long pause. Xain could guess what Rasca was going to say next; the question was so obvious it almost hovered in the air above them, waiting for someone to have the guts to say it. “And you, saw them?” Rasca said.

“Still in bed,” Xain said. “Like they hadn’t moved at all while I’d been gone. I buried them myself. Found a spot not far from the house, lugged some rocks up from the coast, and made a little grave for the both of them. Usually hides in the grass. If it wasn’t snowing all the time, you could probably see it.”

“Do you ever go back there?” Rasca said. “I just, not have noticed.”

Xain sighed, then spoke. “Sometimes, I pays them a visit. It is, a little hard. I would like to think that I am respecting my parents by living here, by fishing, and doing all the things that they did. I hope I am making sure that their efforts do not go in vain. And that is enough to make up for having abandoned them. But I do not know if that is good enough. I may be scared to see them. They might be dead, but part of me is convinced that they resent me. I do not blame them.”

A particularly loud gust whistled through a gap in the wall, sending a chill down Xain’s spine. He pulled the blankets a little closer towards himself and Rasca.

“Someone killed my dad,” Rasca said. “And maybe mom. I think she died a little while after I was born, but nobody told me when or why. I do not remember. Dad refused to talk about it, or let anyone else talk about it.”

Well. “Wh-,” Xain said, the words getting caught up in his throat. He coughed. “Someone killed your dad? What? How? Why?”

“I said it not is a very nice country,” said Rasca. “My dad was a leader. Not even a powerful leader, or from a really rich family, or anything like that. We had control of a couple towns and the family…big house? And people who cleaned the big house. But it was enough money and enough power that somebody decided to make a move against my dad. I do not know who, or how they did it. I was with a teacher in their house when whoever it was attacked my dad’s house. I never found out what happened to him – I saw the smoke and the flames, hid in my teacher’s bed, and then one of my dad’s guards showed up and told me that dad was dead and I was the leader now. I want to say that I was upset, that I was angry, that I was sad, that I was emotional at all, but I was not. I was not that surprised. It had always been a thing that I knew could happen.”

“But,” Xain said, “Why did no one go after you, if you were the leader?”

“Because there was not much left,” Rasca growled. “Whoever did it hid their tracks, but they robbed what they did not burn. The big house not was so big anymore. People said some of the cleaning people started a fire, killed my dad, and ran off with our stuff. Which does not make sense – the cleaning people had always been loyal - but I was not in a position to disagree. The most powerful leader gave me a bunch of stuff to try to make up for the damage, but I was not interested in taking over as a leader. It sounded complicated and dangerous. Maybe that was the point of whoever killed my dad. My dad certainly did not think I would be much. So I sold the big house and decided that I would show them, my own way.”

That was answering quite a few questions. “And that is why you have been doing this?” Xain said.

“I want to come back to them and prove myself,” said Rasca. “I want to be the adventurer, the discoverer, the hero. They will write stories about me and make me a legend, like all the ones I read about. I will not be the sad kid whose parents died and spent the rest of his life doing nothing. Or the kid who sailed off to the middle of nowhere and died for his troubles.”

Resting his snout against the side of Rasca’s head, Xain let out a breath and said, “It does not seem like they are worth your time. I know I would not want to prove myself to people who want to kill me. I would want to prove to myself that I could do something. Like you did.”

Rasca huffed and didn’t respond for a minute. Hng. Had Xain said the wrong thing? It was nice to get to the heart of what was bothering Rasca, and Xain wanted Rasca to love himself as much as Xain loved him. Maybe then Rasca wouldn’t want to work with the people who hated him, and the fox could draw lines in the sand with whoever Agneta brought back (or, if Agneta came back, have her do things differently). But Xain wasn’t that used to deep, emotional conversations, and it was hard not to think he’d scare Rasca away. “I guess we are both messed up,” Rasca said eventually, voice quiet.

“At least we are messed up together,” Xain replied.

Squeezing Xain’s paws a little tighter, Rasca said, “I love you, Xain.”

“And I love you too,” Xain said.

Rasca laughed quietly. “We have the whole winter to ourselves, do we not?” he said. “Just us and this cabin. We don’t have to worry about your family, or Agneta bringing foxes back with her, or anything.” He sighed. “I, almost wish we could like this stay. But that is not going to last forever, will it?”

“Yeah,” said Xain. It felt almost too blunt, but that was the truth. “But we did a lot to get to this point. The least we can do is make this last as long as it can.”

With a snort, Rasca said, “I am pretty sure we just ran around and screamed a lot.”

“And we dealt with everything that got thrown at us,” Xain said. He smiled. “We also screamed at the right people.”

“Now we can scream at each other,” said Rasca.

Xain rolled his eyes. “We can do that later. Right now, I am tired – I think I would rather go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Rasca said. “A break does not feel like it will, cut it. That was a lot. Great, though.”

“And we have time to get better,” Xain replied. He yawned. Between the last couple hours and the conversations about their parents, he hadn’t realized how late in the night it was, or how exhausted he felt. His eyes drooped, his limbs had already started to fall asleep, and he wrapped himself a little tighter around Rasca. “Good night, Rasca.”

“Good night, Xain.”




It took a few seconds for Rasca’s eyes to shoot open. It took a couple more for Rasca to recognize that Xain had placed a paw over his mouth. Rasca’s snout twitched, his eyes darting around as he took in his surroundings.

Xain put a claw to his lips, then pulled his paw from Rasca’s mouth. “They’re here,” Xain whispered. “The tigers.”

“Why? What?” Rasca hissed back.

Tugging at the edge of the blankets on the side of the bed, Xain gestured for Rasca to get off. “I do not know,” said Xain. “They took their sweet time. But they are outside right now.”

“This is my fault,” Rasca whispered, grabbing his head and shaking it. “I brought them here, I-”

“It is too late to worry about that,” hissed Xain. As Rasca pulled himself out of bed, Xain yanked the blankets free. “We need to go, now. They probably think that we cannot escape. I do not want them to think otherwise.”

Reaching out towards the chest, Rasca yanked a key out from the pocket of his overalls. “But are not they outside? This house is not far from the place where they lost me. What chance do we have of running away?”

Xain let out a long breath. Wrapping a blanket over the thick clothes he’d already put on, he said, “There is one tiger outside. Most of the rest have gone, elsewhere.”

The key shook in Rasca’s paw as he tried to open the chest. “No,” whispered Rasca. “No no no, this, I am, your family, we-”

“They are fighters,” whispered Xain, throwing a blanket in Rasca’s direction. “They can handle this a lot more than we can.”

“I was scared,” Rasca whispered. Briefly caught off guard by the blanket falling over him, he wrapped it around himself. He then unlocked the chest, opening it as quickly as he could without making it creak. The fox kept on talking, mostly to himself, only stopping to wince when the chest squeaked. “I should not have run away, I was scared, I put you all in danger, I was scared.” Shoving his paws into the chest, he began to yank out papers and stuff them into his pockets.

Tearing off the last blankets, Xain dumped them onto Rasca. “Yes, you were scared,” he whispered, making his way over to the box of food and clothing that his sisters had left him. Picking it up, he reached out and grabbed the thatch box of cooked fish he’d left beside it. The second box crumpled slightly more in his paw. Nope, it wouldn’t be good to carry. At least they’d eaten enough fish that it’d be easy to move the contents over to the other box. “It was a scary situation. We were hungry and tired, and you were in a strange place with a stranger.”

Rasca’s breathing grew a little more frantic. Turning his head back, Xain saw Rasca on his knees, staring down at the chest. It looked like Rasca had realized he couldn’t carry everything with him. The poor fox. At least Rasca had pulled the gun out; it lay against the bed, barrel pointing towards the ceiling. “But I always run when I scared am. I should not have. I should have waited. Now everyone is going to die.”

“Maybe it was a bad decision,” Xain said, having crouched down and opened both boxes, “But neither of us makes good decisions.” He scooped up fish after fish, shoving them into the other box. It’d be a tight fit, but he could make it work. “I would not go to the village, even though I had to. But that is in the past.” Pulling himself up, he walked over to the fishing rod that he’d left by his basin. “Are you ready to go, Rasca?”

Letting out a long breath, Rasca said, “Yes.” With the slightly uncomfortable sound of paper ripping, followed by the swish of blankets, Rasca popped up beside Xain.

After grabbing his fishing rod, Xain looked down at Rasca. “I believe there is one or two of them outside the house,” said Xain. “They have probably smelled us inside, and they are waiting for us to make our move. Or, they feel like they can come back here later. We cannot leave through the front door.” Gesturing to the hole in the wall in front of them, Xain smiled. “So we will not.”

“But, we built that,” Rasca said, eyes wide.

“We can rebuild it,” said Xain. Setting the fishing rod and box aside, he got down on his knees and poked at the blankets and pieces of wood he’d shoved into the hole. “There is no point in keeping this house intact if no one will live in it.”

“Okay,” said Rasca, after a pause. “Let’s do this.”

Even though he’d already expected this to take a while, reopening the hole exceeded all of Xain’s expectations. Weeks of cold weather had stuck the blankets and wood together; Xain and Rasca had to work together to yank out piece after piece without alerting whoever was outside. Every crack, grunt, or tear set Xain’s fur on end, but they eventually managed to make a hole large enough for Xain to stick his face into. He did so cautiously. His eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight, a thick layer of snow on the ground making it easier to spot the pawprints of the tiger that had walked by. Turning his head to the right, Xain pulled himself back slightly – he could see the outline of the tiger around the corner, illuminated by the torchlight. The tiger didn’t respond. Maybe the cold air made it harder for them to smell?

In any case, it wasn’t long before the tiger disappeared from sight. Xain took that opportunity to start widening the hole. The blocks of earth proved even harder to rip apart, but a combination of Xain using his magic to heat them and desperation helped. Handing block after block to Rasca – Xain wanted to break as few of these possible, both because of the noise and because it’d be easier to put things back together – Xain eventually made a hole barely big enough for him and Rasca to crawl through. And the wall barely sagged. Mission accomplished.

Xain took a deep breath. His paws ached; he could feel splinters on his paws; his every breath fogged up; he could feel frost trying to settle on his cheeks. He still had a long night ahead of him. Grabbing his fishing rod and box and holding them close to his chest, he squeezed his way out.

It was a clear night. Thousands of stars shone in the sky, gray bands stretching across the horizon. The cove was almost completely still (and possibly frozen), save for the faint waves that came in from the ocean. If it wasn’t for the waning moon overhead, the snow going up to his ankles would’ve shimmered. Hng. Dark enough that it’d be harder for him to make his way down the cliff. To say nothing of the ice that likely covered his usual path. Not that he had any other choice. Stepping out of the way to let Rasca pop out, Xain pointed to the cliff ahead of them. Then Xain led the way, crouching to make himself a little less visible. He tried not to wince as he felt the snow seep through his clothes. At least his legs would get numb soon enough.

Fortunately, the tiger never noticed them. Likely because they were too far away; when he turned back, halfway between the house and the cliff, Xain could see the shadow of the tiger as they moved towards the side of the house without a hole. Which was probably for the best; the torch shone brightly enough that Xain could even see his shadow faintly flickering in front of him.

“The town,” Rasca whispered, voice choppy. Xain wasn’t sure if that was because of the cold air or not.

Xain stared out at the orange dot in the distance. Despite all the hills and the snow in the way, he’d never lost sight of it. “Yeah.”

They stood in place for a couple seconds longer, then kept moving. Pins and needles shot up Xain’s legs, but he was much more concerned by what he saw when he finally reached the edge of the cliff. Sure enough, when he brushed off the layer of snow that had settled over his usual path, his paw almost slipped. He could barely see it in the (lack of) moonlight, but that was ice. And that paled in comparison to the torches that he could see far below. Two of them, moving up and down the sandy beach.

“What?” Rasca said, stuttering. “Why, are they here?”

“Waiting for us,” Xain hissed. “S***.”

Looking over at the snow that stretched along the cliffside, Rasca whispered, “We go cannot anywhere else?”

Xain was about to respond, but the light at the edge of his vision caught his attention. “No,” Xain whispered, beginning to make his way down the path. As long as he was careful, his claws would do a lot of the work for him. “There are plenty of places to hide here. And we’d stick out like a bent claw anywhere else.” His voice sounded unsteady, but he hoped Rasca would get the point.

Well, whatever he heard, Rasca still followed him down the windy trail. This wasn’t nearly the first time that Xain had gone down to shore in winter. This wasn’t nearly the first time that Xain had gone down to shore at night. But, now that he was afraid for his life, and now that Rasca was with him, and now that he wasn’t sure if he was about to slide right off the cliff, every step felt like an eternity. He could barely remember the path. Every familiar patch of rock looked alien to him now. Xain fixated on every shadow, afraid that something would pop out. Not that it made sense for a tiger to lie in wait. If the tiger waiting at the door looked around the corner of the house, they’d probably spot the hole and the pawprints. At this point, Xain was hoping that he wouldn’t get cornered by the three tigers. There weren’t exactly many hiding spots, as narrow as the path was, but maybe if he gave them the impression that he was somewhere else, he could wait for them to leave. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan.

The sound of rocks getting knocked over. Xain froze, a pit settling in his stomach. He turned back to see that Rasca had fallen; the fox’s head rested over a couple of rocks, while his hindpaws dangled over the edge of the cliff. Rasca groaned, clutching the side of his head with his paw. His musket had dropped onto the snow between him and Xain, and Xain pushed it aside as he set the fishing rod down and extended a paw to Rasca.

“Are you okay?” Xain whispered, heart skipping a beat as Rasca’s other paw fumbled towards Xain. However, Rasca quickly grabbed onto Xain’s arm, and Xain was able to pull the fox into a sitting position.

Nodding, Rasca tapped the side of his head and winced. “It is bleeding,” Rasca said. “But I will be fine.”

Xain glanced up at the start of the path. Nothing that he could see, other than the torch light getting a little brighter. Maybe the tiger hadn’t noticed. “Good thing it is not much farther,” Xain said, tugging on Rasca’s arm.

It took a couple seconds, but Rasca figured out what Xain was doing and let Xain pull him up. Rasca stood straight for a second, then tilted towards the wall. Reaching out a paw and gripping onto the stone, Rasca took a couple deep breaths.

“Do you need to wait a second?” whispered Xain, biting his lip. “I can carry your gun if you-”

Rasca waved Xain off. “I can do it,” the fox whispered. He crouched down slowly, picking up the long end musket with his free paw. The other end dragged along the ground as Rasca took a step closer; in response, Rasca lifted the musket slightly. “Let us go.” He sagged. “If I did not ruin things again.”

Hng. Not exactly words of confidence, but they had to keep moving. “You did not,” Xain whispered, picking up his stuff and walking further down the path. The fishing rod and the box were freezing – he’d already started to lose feeling in his arms. And he could see Rasca starting to fall behind him, the fox clinging onto the wall with every less than steady step. At least there were some crevices in the wall up ahead. If they could make it to those, they could probably take a break. Xain had no idea how badly Rasca had hit his head, but, after what he’d seen with Iva, Xain wasn’t keen on taking chances.

The growl that rang out over Xain’s head froze his blood more than the snow did. His eyes darted up to catch the outline of a tiger standing at the head of the path, their torch waving in the air as they howled something. Probably that Xain and Rasca had escaped. Xain wasn’t remotely surprised when he looked down towards the coast and saw the pair of torches below him move towards the cliff. Well, so much for making it to the beach. Those crevices would have to do.

Xain tried to pick up the pace, which wasn’t exactly easy to do. The snow wasn’t great to walk through, and the prints that the tigers had left behind were icy. On the bright side, at least the tigers were going through the same struggle. By the time that Xain had reached the bend in the path, the tigers had only gone through a switchback themselves. Slowing to a stop, Xain looked back at Rasca. The fox had stopped using the cliff for support, but he still swayed slightly as he walked. Not to mention that Rasca almost ran into Xain.

“What?” Rasca said, pulling his head back as he tried to steady himself. He didn’t put up much resistance when Xain poked him in the back with the fishing rod, then used it to nudge Rasca in the direction of the largest crevice. Once Rasca had fit himself in there, Xain hid the box behind a nearby rock, then squeezed in between Rasca and the rock wall.

Xain had never been so scared in his life. He spent the next few months huddled with Rasca, stuffing their snouts into each other’s blankets so the air around them wouldn’t fog up. As many layers as he wore, Xain could still feel the chill of the rocks soak through him, making it that much harder for him to want to move. With every turn of the head, he could see the tigers making their way up through the cliffs. He could see their outlines, then start to pick out their outfits, then start to see their faces. Worn leather and thick jackets. Axes strapped to the back of the one in front, a spear strapped to the one in the back. Huge canines, snarls on their faces. Soon they were close enough that he could see the way they shivered, how their eyes darted everywhere, how quickly they tried to shuffle up the path. They didn’t want to be here. Hopefully that’d make it easier for them to miss something.

Now they were too close. Xain could almost reach out and grab their outfits. Not that catching them by surprise would work – they were clearly much bigger than him, and he had the feeling that they had a lot more experience with fights than he did. It was evident in the scars that littered their faces as they passed by. The tigers weren’t nearly as good at magic, from what he'd been told, but they did know some. And it was a little harder for him to use magic, what with him having already exhausted himself. If he didn’t have the speed or the strength, he didn’t have a chance. He just had to count on them passing by.

They took a few more, excruciatingly slow steps. Every bootstep, turn of the head, cough, and sniff rang through Xain’s ears. Still, the tigers were far enough away that the torchlight began to recede. It helped that Xain and Rasca were at an odd angle, one that made it hard for anyone to see them unless that someone knew exactly where they were. Unfortunately, seeing wasn’t the only option. Xain tensed as he saw the tiger in the back freeze, snow slipping off a raised boot. The tiger sniffed the air, trying to pick up on something. Then the tiger turned around slowly. Their eyes ran up and down the cliff as they tried to confirm their guess, eventually focusing on the crevices next to the switchback. Xain knew he was in trouble when he saw the tiger smile.

Grabbing Rasca by the shoulders, Xain hurled him out of the crevice. “Go!” Xain shouted, ignoring the pins and needles that shot up his arm as he pointed it at the ground in front of the tigers. A small ball of fire exploded into life, painting the cliff red and orange for a brief moment. As the tigers stepped back, shouting in alarm, Xain dashed down the cliff after Rasca. Or, as fast as Xain could run through the cloud of smoke that had settled over him, his legs only starting to wake up after being jammed in the crevice for so long.

Xain’s breaths were loud and heavy. He’d overexerted himself. Between clearing out the hole, the cold, the running, and the magic, he didn’t know how much more he could do. His body ached, his teeth clattered, and the only thing louder than the roar of his heart was the sound of boots as the tigers chased after him. With each switchback, both sounds only grew louder. He tried to ignore the feeling of dread that crawled down his spine, but his gut feeling told him that he couldn’t make it. They were going to catch up to him. But he’d saved Rasca, right? The fireball had given them just enough time to get moving. Maybe Rasca would be able to hide - that was good enough for Xain.

One last switchback. The ice and snow of the cliffside gave way to the snow and sand of the beach. As he’d suspected, most of the cove had frozen over. While the tides probably explained how the snow barely made it to his ankles, the layer of ice that reflected the moonlight explained why there was any snow in the first place. Any other time, this would’ve been gorgeous. The way grains of sand settled into Xain’s hindpaws brought back memories of all the time he’d spent at the beach. Waves crashing against the shore, his fishing line soaring into the cove, the fish flopping around in the sand. The ice reminded him of the times he’d tried ice fishing, the one time he fell through, how hard he’d worked to get the fish he saw roasting over a fire. That he was still holding his fishing rod felt appropriate. What a way to go.

In the contest between claws that couldn’t dig into anything and boots that didn’t need to, boots won out. A tiger slammed into Xain, sending him crashing into the sand. Black spots dancing in front of his eyes, Xain screamed in pain. He tried to call out to Rasca, tell Rasca to keep running, but he could barely form a word as the tiger grabbed his arms and pulled them back. So Xain got to watch Rasca stop and turn back, just in time to see the other tiger walk slowly over to Rasca.

“Alright, kit,” the other tiger said in an accent that sounded almost like Sive’s, but thicker. If Xain wasn’t distracted by the tiger who’d just fallen on top of him, he probably would’ve found it odd that the other tiger could speak his language at all. But that thought was at the back of Xain’s mind, especially as he felt the blade of an axe pressed against the back of his throat. “We’ve got your friend. Give up.”

Taking a couple steps back, Rasca shook his head and adjusted his gun. Now Rasca held the blunt end close to his chest, while the long end dragged along the ground. What was Rasca thinking? The fox needed to run and hide. There were still plenty of spots by the cliffs that Rasca could take shelter in. Maybe there wasn’t much point now, since the other tiger knew exactly where Rasca was. At least it would make it easier for the fox to defend himself.

“We could do this the nice way,” the other tiger said, taking a step closer and extending a paw. “But you’re coming with me, no matter what.” At least, Xain was fairly sure that’s what the other tiger said – his voice was a little hard to parse. Not that Xain really needed to understand. Or Rasca, for that matter. Xain just needed to come up with a distraction. Maybe use some magic, or shout something, or try to fight the tiger. He needed to get the other tiger’s attention. The tiger was clever enough to pin both of Xain’s paws so he couldn’t focus his magic through those, but Xain wasn’t out of the game just yet. Even if it killed Xain (and it probably would), Rasca would have a chance to get away.

And yet, Xain didn’t do anything. He couldn’t move a muscle. He stared, watching as Rasca pointed the blunt end of the gun at the other tiger and waved it. Ah. That was the plan. Because that’d end well. Xain tensed up as he felt the axe blade press a little deeper into his neck, the smell of blood seeping into the air. No, Xain couldn’t do this. He couldn’t sacrifice himself for Rasca’s sake. Why? Why couldn’t he? What did he have to lose? This was his moment. But the idea that he could die overwhelmed him, drowned out his other thoughts and senses.

The other tiger growled and shifted into a fighting stance. “You think I’m scared of that?” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Okay.” Without waiting for a response, the other tiger lunged at Rasca. Screaming, the fox swung the back end of the gun at him. It was purely by chance that the gun connected with the other tiger at all. A resounding crack! echoed through the cliffs, followed by the other tiger screaming as he fell back. The other tiger clung onto the edge of one of his canines, which Xain realized had actually been broken. Xain could even see fractures along part of the canine. Somehow, Rasca had done it. Now all Rasca needed to do was take the opportunity. There were crevices just a short distance away; Rasca had to notice them.

But Rasca stood there, startled at what he’d just done. His legs shook as he nearly dropped the gun and took a step back, watching the other tiger pull himself up. With a roar, the other tiger hurled himself at Rasca.

The other tiger was more successful this time; Rasca crumpled to the ground, the other tiger straddling him. And, with a roar, the other tiger punched Rasca across the face. Then did it again, and again, and again, and again.

Nope. Closing his eyes, Xain imagined a ball of fire in front of him. He opened them to watch it roar to life, crackling and radiating heat as it hovered over the beach. However, the tiger slammed a knee against the base of Xain’s back. As the pain shot through Xain, he could hear the ball begin to sputter. Xain was too tired, too surprised, too unable to look, too injured. He hurled the fireball in roughly the direction he heard the other tiger’s fists, hoping the fireball would connect. Only for the fire to fall apart with a crackle. Burying his face in the sand and snow, Xain let out a sob. He was alive, if only because the tiger let him live. Which almost felt worse than dying. Between his snow-covered clothes and the pain, he might as well have been dead.

Xain heard a growl from what sounded like the third tiger. The light at the edge of the vision, combined with the sound of rocks and snow falling down the cliff, confirmed it. The other tiger said something in response, and the two struck up a quick, angry conversation, if the tones of their voices were anything to go by. Not that Xain cared. He had no idea if Rasca was alright, or what they were going to do to him or Rasca, or how they were going to make it out of this. Xain had failed. If he’d known the tiger wasn’t actually going to kill him, he could’ve tried to distract the other tiger, maybe make it so that Rasca could slip away. He shouldn’t have been so afraid of an axe against his back.

The tiger wrapped his arms around Xain’s shoulders and pulled Xain onto his hindpaws. It took a second for Xain to remember the fishing rod, which was now half-buried in the sand – Xain yanked it out of the ground and clung onto it. Blinking tears out of his eyes, Xain caught sight of the third tiger as she reached the bottom of the cliff. She ignored Xain, instead making a beeline for the other tiger, who was busy picking up Rasca. Xain couldn’t get a good view of Rasca, but, based on the way that Rasca’s head was lowered and his paws drooped, it couldn’t be good. Xain sobbed again.

The next few minutes blurred by. Neither the frost that covered Xain’s face or the blood that ran down his back caught his attention. The tiger draped Xain over his shoulder, carrying him up the switchback. Being at the head of the group, Xain had to look past the third tiger to see Rasca, who was slung over the other tiger’s shoulder. Xain wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or anxious that Rasca’s head was turned away. He tried to get any glimpse of Rasca by focusing on the shadows that the three torches cast, but they were far too shaky and way to pick anything out. Halfway up the cliff, Xain swore he could see a drop of blood or two on the ground, but he had no idea if he was making that up. Especially thanks to all the torches overhead messing with his eyesight.

Reaching the top of the cliffs, the three tigers and their prisoners waded their way through a crowd of tigers. Torchlit face after torchlit face greeted Xain, along with singed clothes and the smell of burnt fur. Many of the tigers glared at him, raising their weapons or growling. Xain felt the faintest bit of hope – maybe the raid on the town hadn’t gone according to plan. He couldn’t see anything like scars, cuts, or bloodstains, which raised the possibility that they hadn’t stepped foot in the town at all. Not that that made things any better for him. Tigers had surrounded the house, and it wasn’t long before Xain saw their leader.

With a grunt, the tiger tossed Xain onto the ground. Scrambling into a kneeling position and pressing his fishing rod against his chest, Xain looked up at the imposing tiger sitting on an intricately carved dark wood chair, held by four other tigers. Dressed in a black, feather-lined cape, a black shirt, gray pants, and thick leather boots, the leader propped his elbow against an armrest and rested his chin on the palm of his paw. The leader looked Xain up and down with a cursory glance, then focused on the fox that was hurled to the ground beside Xain. Against his better judgment, Xain looked over at Rasca.

On the bright side, the fox was awake – he was trying to pull himself into a kneeling position, staring up at the leader all the while. On the down side, there was a reason that the leader did a double-take. One of Rasca’s eyes had been swollen shut, to say nothing of the scattered scratches that ran from under one eye to the top of his mouth. His nose was bent at an awkward angle, and Xain could see a canine or two poking out. Blood dripped down Rasca’s face, and every movement that Rasca made was jerky. All in all, if it wasn’t for the third tiger standing in between Xain and Rasca, Xain would’ve scooted over to Rasca in a heartbeat.

The third tiger and the leader struck up a conversation. Something brief, with what sounded like some questions peppered in. The leader went from pointing to Rasca with a confused tone of voice to scowling at someone in the crowd. Xain watched as the other tiger get shoved between Xain and the leader. Kicking the leg of the chair, the leader pushed himself forward as the tigers took a knee, giving the leader the chance to glare at the other tiger and slap him across the face. Just a little cathartic.

Turning around to face Xain and Rasca, the other tiger held a paw against his cheek and scowled. Though the reason that the other tiger winced with every step and breeze had to be the canine, which didn’t have so much as a bandage around it. Not that it would do the other tiger much good – Xain wasn’t familiar with how to heal teeth, but he knew they were especially sensitive. Which meant it had to hurt when the leader said something and the other tiger translated it. “Is that the creature our raiders came across a few weeks ago?” the other tiger said, pointing an unsteady claw to Rasca.

An idea popped into Xain’s head. Heart pounding, breathing shaky, he almost didn’t hear himself talk. But he was able to say something before Rasca had the chance to open his mouth (and, even if Rasca had beat him to the punch, Xain doubted Rasca could say anything coherent). “Yes,” said Xain. “Why do you ask?”

The other tiger relayed Xain’s words to the leader; the leader pulled himself back in his chair, tapping a claw against his chin and nodding in Rasca’s direction. Then the leader spoke. “Because they said the creature looked, strange,” the other tiger translated. “Not like you at all, kit.” The other tiger scowled. “And beyond, someone’s bad judgment, that looks about right. Is that creature a kit, like you?”

Trying to ignore the menace dripping out of every time the other tiger said “kit,” Xain said, “No, he is not. He is a, fox. Only one tail, orange fur, and not as good at magic.”

The leader narrowed his eyes. “And can we trust you, kit?” the other tiger said.

Rasca turned his head to Xain. Probably to ask if Rasca could join in the conversation. Doing his best to ignore Rasca, Xain raised his voice and said, “Why does who he is matter? Why would you go to all this trouble to find someone who looks a little weird?” Ugh, maybe not the nicest thing to say about Rasca, but that wasn’t exactly Xain’s top priority.

Leaning forward, the leader tapped a couple claws together. One of the tigers immediately lifted a few papers, which the leader grabbed. Of course the tigers had some of Rasca’s papers. “They also said he was dressed strangely,” the other tiger said, “And dropped what looked like part of a strange map” – the leader held out the paper in question – “the scouts lost track of him around this house, but they found a town not far away. We figured he couldn’t have gotten far, if he went anywhere at all. He did not act like he knew where he was going when he ran into our scouts, and I can’t imagine that he would’ve wanted to try fleeing into the plains after that.”

“What took you so long, then?” Xain said. “He could’ve gotten away.”

With a nod of his head, the leader began to shuffle the various papers in his paws. “True,” the other tiger said, “But I did not think he would. No one raids the coast – it is a good place for someone who wants to hide. Besides, the monsters are much less active in the winter, and we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. So we waited. Worst came to worst, we would strike a town that had not been touched in a long time, and so get treasures that other tigers had not.”

Despite himself, Xain grinned. “But that didn’t work out, did it?” Xain said.

The leader snarled. “Maybe it will,” the other tiger said. “Especially if you want to sneer at me like that.” Holding a couple papers in the light, the leader kept on talking. Xain caught sight of what looked like the outline of a ship, as well as some maps. Well. If Xain had to guess, that had something to do with Rasca’s original voyage. The voyage that had, in some shape or form, made it across the ocean. “If you work with us, maybe we’ll only just kill you. The handwriting on all these papers looks about the same, and I can’t believe a kit living in the middle of nowhere would know this much about shipbuilding and navigation. That, fox, can tell us everything. If I had to guess, the only reason you’re here is because this is your house.”

Hng. Hopefully Xain could make his move without Rasca interrupting. Though Rasca seemed to have gotten the hint that he should keep his mouth shut. “What will you even do with those?” Xain said.

“What won’t we do with these?” the other tiger said. “From what I can tell, this looks like the way that can take us to an entirely new continent. Think of all the gifts, treasures, and prisoners that we could bring back to the king. The power and respect that I would hold. Maybe I could even establish a kingdom of my own in the new lands.”

Xain had the feeling that the leader would have a hard time with that. But it was obvious how much this meant to the leader. Which made Xain’s life a little less stressful. “Well, you’re not going to make that kingdom if I’m dead,” Xain said. “You need me.”

The leader growled. “And what do you mean by that?” the other tiger said.

“Because I’m the only person who understands him,” Xain said. Turning his head to Rasca, Xain switched to Rasca’s language. “Is not that right, Rasca?”

Rasca nodded. “That’s right,” he said, voice slurred. “I have no clue what anyone else is saying, Xain.”

Gritting his teeth, the leader spat out a few words. “Is that so?” the other tiger said, focusing on Xain. “You know his language, but he does not know your language? How strange for someone living among kits.”

“He didn’t want to know,” Xain said. “He’s a scared fox who only wants to go to his home. He tried running away, but that didn’t work out for him, so he’s stayed with me ever since. I took the time to understand him; he didn’t repay the favor.”

“And what good is he for?” the other tiger growled, trying not to copy the frustration that Xain could hear in the leader’s voice. The leader already knew the answer. “We have a few of the notes, and the rest are either in this house or on him. Why can’t we just kill both of you?”

Xain shook his head. “You know why,” he said. “He built that ship. If you kill him, you might miss out on something. Especially because I doubt you can actually read his notes.”

Tapping a claw against his chair, the leader pressed his other paw against his forehead. “Fine,” the other tiger said as the leader gestured to the surrounding tigers. “Take them both. Search them for whatever they have. We’re setting up camp somewhere else – this isn’t a safe place.” With that, the leader gestured behind him; the tigers lifted up his chair and swiveled around, carrying him away from the torchlight as the rest of the tigers surged forward.

Well, Xain had saved his and Rasca’s hides. Xain let out of breath as a couple tigers grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him up. They got to work dragging him away from his house, peeling off layers of clothing and rummaging through whatever gaps or pockets they could see. To his right, Xain noticed that they were giving Rasca the same treatment. The fox grimaced and snarled as the tigers snatched paper after paper, but Rasca didn’t have the energy to so much as raise a paw. Horns blared as the tigers collectively began to move, some jumping onto horses while others hauled busted weapons and singed bodies onto wagons. Or, from what Xain could see through the rows and rows of torches. Shadows danced around his already tired eyes, obscuring everything around him. His aching back and the cold that wrapped its paws around him made it that much harder to tell what was going on.

Part of him wanted to believe that he’d crossed the biggest hurdle – not getting killed – and that he’d be able to handle what came next. Now that they were valuable prisoners, maybe Xain and Rasca could try to manipulate the tigers and get out of this situation. But, as Xain looked back at his house, which was receding into the background of lights, he knew that was a lie. He was stuck. As soon as they got that boat built (and maybe even before then, if they were angry enough at him), they’d kill him. The most he could do was use what little power he could to stay alive for as long as he could. Maybe he’d get lucky.

One of the tigers nudged him, forcing him to turn his head back and keep going. Well, that was it. The last time he’d ever see his house again. In his head, Xain imagined his parent’s graves, almost hidden in the snow. He said goodbye to his parents, to his sisters, to his family, to Rasca. It was the most he could do.

Of all the winters that Xain had spent outside of the village, this wasn’t one of the worst ones. For one thing, he had Rasca with him. Sure, Rasca was tied up on the other side of a pole holding their tent up, and Rasca was understandably very quiet after the beating that he’d taken, but Xain wasn’t alone. Yes, they’d been moved up to the coast until the cliffs had given way to beaches and were currently in the middle of a camp of tigers not far from the ocean. Yes, they’d refused to comply with the tigers. Yes, they’d been stripped of their weapons, papers, and most of their clothes, and left to freeze until they were cold enough that the guards would demand Xain and Rasca either give up some information about the ship or die. Yes, they were being denied food and water for the same reason. But the guards always gave up; there wasn’t any point in trying to talk to dead people. And, well, the first winter Xain had spent on his own had been a bit of a disaster. He’d had to bury his parents, almost set most of his supplies on fire, and spent much of the winter trying to fix the house. Which said a bit about his ability to take care of himself.

At the same time, Xain wasn’t keen on taking the food, water, blankets offered to him. He wasn’t here to build that ship. He was here to waste their time, be as hostile as possible, force them to rethink how they were treating him and Rasca. It’d only been a week or two, and already he was having trouble feeling his limbs, his stomach growled constantly, and his voice was weak and shaky. He could barely think clearly beyond a haze of memories, incomplete ideas, and rage. But here he was, opening his eyes to find a gray-furred tiger crouching next to him, snapping her claws together with one paw while she held a bowl of what looked like gruel in the other. And, like usual, he turned his head away.

She scowled, setting down the bowl and replacing it with a pouch of water. Holding in close to Xain’s face, she pushed the tip against his nose. When he didn’t turn his head over to her, she popped off the tip and sent a small stream of water pouring down his face. Nope, he wouldn’t drink a drop. It wasn’t like she could force him to do anything; she was an older tiger, and the couple of times that she’d been able to open his mouth, he’d bitten her. So Xain wasn’t surprised when, with a sigh, she stuck the tip back on and pulled away the pouch.

“What do I have to do to get you to work with me?” she said, sitting down and crossing her legs. Her voice sounded mellow and slow, like she thought Xain was just being unreasonable. “You know Kisan will hear about this.”

Xain shrugged. He wasn’t afraid of Kisan.

The tiger sighed. “What good will this do you?” she said. “Do you really think you’re stalling?”

“I don’t think,” Xain said. “I am.”

“We’re still waiting for the shipbuilders,” said the tiger, setting her paws on the ground and leaning back slightly. “Strictly speaking, we don’t need to talk to either of you right now.”

Xain glared at the tiger out of the corner of his eye. “And I won’t talk to you when they show up.”

“But you will have to talk to Kisan,” the tiger said. “He’s already pissed off at you. I have a hard time pointing him in the right direction when he’s calm – I don’t know what he’s going to do with you when he’s angry.” The calmness in her voice made that last sentence sound more like a threat than a question.

Flexing his legs and ignoring the pinpricks that shot up them, Xain said, “He hasn’t killed me yet. And I think he knows what’s going to happen if he does.”

The tiger tilted her head. “What’s with you?” she said. “I would’ve expected something like you to fall apart by now, but the idea that my son could kill you doesn’t faze you.”

“And you’re pretty calm about the idea that your son could get killed for killing me,” Xain said.

The tiger’s face immediately twisted into a scowl. Leaning forward and grabbing Xain by the chin, she yanked his head over so that he looked into her eyes. “You don’t know anything,” she spat.

“I know enough,” Xain said, blinking some of the spittle away. “You’re kinda old to be a raider, and Kisan never said anything about you being one. Do you really want to be here?”

After a couple seconds of locking eyes, the tiger yanked Xain’s head to the side. “More than you do,” she said, letting go of Xain. Grabbing the food and water, she pulled herself up. “Fine. Be that way. But Kisan is going to hear about this. Maybe you’ll feel a little less haughty when you lose a tooth.”

“Nice talking to you,” said Xain, watching as the tiger turned around and slipped through the tent flap. “Tell your darling son I said hi.” She paused briefly and started to turn her head, but thought better of it. Stepping outside, the tiger turned right and vanished, her thick gray coat leaving impressions in the snow that hadn’t already been trampled over.

Well, it was getting a little easier to push her buttons. In fact, she’d spent much less time than normal trying to give him anything. Which was what Xain wanted. They’d only seen each other a few times, but they’d already settled into a routine – she’d offer him food, he’d reject it, she’d leave, Kisan would show up. At least Xain was speeding up the process.

Craning his head back, Xain closed his eyes. When every limb, muscle, and bone hurt, and it was hard to think past thirst or hunger, he liked to settle into the sounds of the camp. Bootsteps of soldiers on patrol. Snippets of conversation. Open fires crackling. The whistling of the wind. Spoons scraping against the bottoms of bowls. It helped him get away from the frost that settled on his fur, as well as gave him a chance to figure out if his plan had worked. He swore that he’d heard the leader outside of his tent a couple times, having frantic and aggressive conversations with some of the guards. Everyone sounded tense. They were hanging out in the coast in winter. The more time they had to wait, the more likely they’d set sail in the spring or summer. The more likely they’d run into monsters. Music to Xain’s ears.

Boots stamping against the snow. Xain didn’t have to open his eyes to hear the growling or feel the rush of air as Kisan yanked the tent flap back. Once again, Xain could hear the swish of water in a bucket. “Disrespecting my mom, kit?” Kisan growled, stamping on Xain’s leg. Biting his lip as Kisan ground his heel into Xain’s ankle, Xain didn’t respond.

“She came all this way to be with me, and this is how you treat her hospitality?” Kisan said, shifting the water bucket. Xain almost didn’t have to hear Kisan’s words to guess what they would be. “I was going to give you some water to drink, but you look filthy – maybe I’ll just give you a bath instead.” And, on cue, Xain found himself doused with water as Kisan slammed the bucket over Xain’s head. Xain’s muscles twitched as the cold water seeped into his fur and pooled onto the ground, making it slightly harder for Xain to feel it when Kisan slapped the bucket a couple of times. Not that it stopped Xain’s teeth from rattling, nor Xain’s nose from starting to bleed.

Yanking back the bucket, Kisan set a paw against Xain’s chest. “Did you like that, kit?” Kisan said. “Maybe I’ll give you a blanket. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe you’ll freeze up and die. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Xain forced an eye open and glared at Kisan. The tiger’s outside hadn’t changed at all since the first time Xain had run into him. The other exception had to be the tooth, which had been wrapped up tight. But, based on how shaky Kisan’s sneer was, the pain hadn’t quite gone away. Licking his lips, Xain used what little water he had to spit at Kisan.

“Cute,” Kisan said, shoving a paw at Xain’s chest. Xain wheezed as he felt the air forced out of his lungs. But, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Xain struggled against Kisan’s paw. “I hate you,” Kisan went on. “I really do hate you. I thought I would hate the fox more, but no, you don’t know when to keep your head down like a good kit. That fox is smarter than you.”

“Don’t, care,” Xain coughed out. “A**hole.”

With a growl, Kisan pulled his paw back. “A**hole? Me?” he said, giving Xain a few seconds to take some deep breaths before grabbing Xain’s neck and yanking the bucket free with the other paw. “I’m doing you a favor, kit. Maybe you should listen to me and give up. Or maybe they’ll drag your body to the shore and leave you to whatever creature’s feeling hungry enough.”

Xain growled. “Do it,” he said. “Kill me. See what your leader decides to do about that.”

Kisan crouched down and tightening his grip on Xain’s neck. “He’ll have my hide if I take yours,” Kisan said, raising his chin and scowling. “Act as smug as you like, but you’re a tool. We’ll use you, then throw you away when we’re done. You’re not getting out of this, kit. We’ll break you if we have to.”

“Haven’t, broken me yet,” Xain said, struggling to breath. Spots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to pull his legs back and kick at Kisan.

The tiger responded by sitting on Xain’s knees. “It’s only been a couple weeks,” Kisan said, the scowl turning into a sneer. “How long are you really willing to play this game? Months? Years? You know how badly my leader wants this. What he’s willing to do to get that ship built. Maybe it’d be easier to kill you and find a way to talk to that fox.”

Xain grinned. “You don’t have the time,” he said when Kisan slightly loosened his grip on Xain’s neck. “Your leader wants that ship built as soon as possible, because he doesn’t want to sail in the summer. It took me months to understand Rasca; I don’t think you’ll do any better.”

“That’s interesting,” Kisan said, matching Xain’s smile with his own. “The fox said he’d starve with you when we brought you here, but he was eating everything we set out in front of him just a week later. He’s been a model prisoner – unlike you, kit. Not a complaint, always takes what’s given to him, lets us patch him up, listens to my mom. If he could talk, we’d cut your throat and throw you in the sea in a heartbeat.”

Hng. Was that really possible? Kisan wasn’t a great liar, but Rasca had agreed to weather this out with Xain. “Stop lying to me,” Xain growled. “He would never.”

Letting go of Xain’s neck, Kisan patted Xain’s cheek. “That’s adorable, kit,” Kisan said, voice becoming soft. “I need to go find some of my mom’s gruel to shove down your throat, but why don’t you go talk to him about it? That’s what you’re here for, after all. And, if you’re still not getting along, we’ll starve him too.” Kisan pulled himself up, walking over Xain’s legs as he made his way to the entrance to the tent. “So think on that, kit.” The tiger yanked the tent flap back and went outside.

Xain breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped hearing Kisan’s bootsteps. The spots in his eyes hadn’t quite faded away, and he could barely feel his arms or legs anymore. He could see the way his muscles twitched and spasmed. His stomach growled and his throat was so sore he was almost tempted to eat the food that Kisan was bringing back for him. Just about Xain’s normal experience with Kisan. And, well, it was getting a little hard to imagine that Xain could keep this up for the next couple months. Xain also didn’t want to think about what would happen if they didn’t build the ship by summer. It’d be a lot easier to justify killing him if the tigers had a few more months to get ready.

But neither of those were the most concerning train of thought in his head. “Rasca?” Xain said after a minute’s silence. He knew the fox was awake – Xain could hear Rasca shuffling. And yet, Rasca wouldn’t answer. That was definitely a good sign. Switching to Rasca’s language, Xain said, “Is Kisan true?”

A long pause. “You don’t have to do this, Xain,” Rasca said slowly. It was then that Xain realized how clear Rasca’s voice was. They hadn’t talked much in the last couple weeks – between Rasca’s injuries, the steady stream of tigers into the tent, and what Xain had gone through, it had been hard to do anything other than sit and watch the hours pass by. However, now that they were talking, Rasca really didn’t sound like someone who had been stared, beaten, and left to freeze.

“Yes, I do,” Xain said, ice creeping into his voice. “Kisan will not hurts you. You are valuable because of the ship, the notes, and where you come from. I am valuable because I can talks to you. They care about you much more than me.”

Rasca sighed. “I can protect you, Xain,” the fox said.

“Is this protecting me?” Xain spat. “Betraying me? Giving up? If we let them boss us around now, there’s nothing stopping them from killing us when they get the chance. We need to give them reasons not to.”

“I am not betraying you,” Rasca said quickly, anger in his voice. “I am building their trust now so I can use it down the road.”

Staring at the ground, Xain hissed. “Then you should’ve given up from the start.” he said. “Instead of breaking my trust for their sake.”

“Xain, they’re going to kill you,” Rasca said. “I’m sorry for doing that – I really was willing to go along, but I saw a better way out. And I wish I’d told you a little sooner, but I was a little too banged up for that. Believe me when I tell you that this is our best bet.”

“I guess we’ll have to see who’s plan works out,” Xain said. His ears picked up on familiar bootsteps. Not that it bothered him. As long as this was going to be, as painful as this was going to be, as much as Kisan would yell and shout and hit him, this was a matter of pride for Xain. Rasca just didn’t understand the stakes of this game. Xain’s plan was already working – it was just a matter of time before the tigers gave in. If Rasca wanted to give up, that was his problem.

Xain wasn’t about to give up.

The winter slipped by, days blending into each other. Between the snowstorms, Kisan’s abuse, hunger, and thirst, Xain could hardly tell whether it was even day or night anymore. Lifting his head up took a lot of effort, and, if he wasn’t going anywhere, it wasn’t worth it. He spent a lot of his time awake with his eyes closed, since he’d usually be greeted by Kisan, Kisan’s mom, or spots if he opened them.

To say nothing about how long he spent sleeping. In the first couple weeks, he had an endless stream of nightmares, most of them about getting his throat cut while Rasca watched. They’d never felt like any dream Xain had had before; they were so vivid, every scream so loud, his heart beating so fast. If he wasn’t always surrounded by tigers, he felt like he could take control of the dream and run away with Rasca. And now, he didn’t dream about anything. It was almost like it was too much effort to dream. Or maybe he was already having a hard time telling what was real and what wasn’t. As if that mattered.

The tiger leader had shown up some time before. Xain couldn’t remember much of that conversation, other than the leader had looked a little agitated. Whatever Xain said didn’t make the leader feel any better – the leader had scowled, turned away, and let Kisan take over. Kisan was taking over a lot now. If Xain showed any kind of resistance, Kisan was there. Even if Xain did nothing, Kisan had made it a habit to pop his head in and knock Xain around. Maybe the tigers were scared. Maybe the tigers hoped that they could beat a translation out of Xain. If Xain could prove that wouldn’t work, maybe he’d be able to get somewhere. But Kisan was putting in his best effort, especially with his tooth staring to heal up.

“I’m feeling pretty good today, kit,” Kisan said, grabbing Xain’s chin and glaring into Xain’s eyes. “It barely even hurts anymore, and mom says it’ll heal up in a couple weeks. Not that you care.” Kisan used his other paw to smack Xain across the face.

“Please,” Rasca said in the fox tongue. Rasca had healed up nicely in the last couple of weeks – his voice sounded much clearer, and he tugged on his ropes with a lot more force than Xain could muster. Which made it just a little more painful to hear Rasca beg and plea in a language that Kisan didn’t understand. “Please stop.”

Laughing, Kisan aimed a hook at Xain’s chin. The spots came back in full force as the back of Xain’s head slammed into the post. Tasting blood, Xain still took the opportunity to breath in while Kisan looked around the post at Rasca. “What’s that, fox?” Kisan said. “Maybe you should get the kit to tell me. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Stop,” Rasca said, choking up. “You’re going to kill him.”

“What’re you babbling about?” Kisan growled. The tiger spat at Xain; Xain blinked the spittle away from his eyes. “This worthless kit? The kit who won’t do his job? Who doesn’t know when to give up?” Raising a fist, Kisan punched Xain again, and again, and again, punctuating every punch with a word. “Know. Your. Place. Kit.”

With that, Kisan decided it was a good time to leave. Wiping the blood on his paws against Xain’s fur, Kisan pulled himself up and left.

When his ears stopped ringing, the first thing that Xain heard was Rasca sobbing. The beatings had become almost regular at this point. Kisan’s ranting and raving were just empty noises, casual conversation over the dinner table, and Xain could hardly feel Kisan’s fists anymore. But Rasca crying was worse. That caused a couple tears to slide off Xain’s face, for Xain to feel some pangs of guilt. Xain was right that Kisan wouldn’t target Rasca. However, maybe Kisan never had to.

Rasca took a shaky breath. “Xain, please stop,” he sobbed. “This isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Xain couldn’t say much – he’d gone so long without food and water that talking hurt, on top of the last couple punches making his lips swell up. He could only blurt out, “Sorry.”

A pause. “Are you okay, Xain?” Rasca said, voice quieter. Xain could feel Rasca’s paws trying to stretch their way through the ropes that held them both to the pole. Which was a little difficult, since their paws were tied behind their backs “I still can’t see very well – one of my eyes is swollen. I just, want to hold your paw again.”

Paws swollen and numb, Xain found it a little difficult to move them. However, with a little bit of patience, he was able to get far enough to brush one of his claws against Rasca’s. About as good as he could get. “I’m, fine,” Xain hissed out.

“Really?” Rasca said after a couple seconds, voice fading into a whisper.

“Really,” Xain said, looking up and growling at the figure who pulled back the tent flap and stepped inside.

A bowl of water in one hand and a bowl with a paste made out of herbs in the other hand, Kisan’s mother looked at Xain and grimaced. “You look like s***,” she said, taking a step closer. "My son did a number on you."

While Xain would’ve loved to yell at her, kick at her, do anything to make it clear he didn’t want her here, he didn’t have the energy to do anything other than say, “You raised him.”

She scowled. “I thought I did,” she said, sitting down beside Xain. Pulling a towel out from the folds of her thick brown outfit, she dipped it in the bowl of water and got to work cleaning off the bloodstains, cuts, and bruises. Xain hissed quietly, trying and failing to pull her head away as she kept talking. “Maybe it was that company he kept. Filled his head with ideas, made him want to go out and plunder and destroy. And he had the nerve to drag me along with him.”

“Why?” Xain said, gritting his teeth as Kisan’s mom started applying herbs to the wounds. He faintly remembered how Rasca had done the same after Xain had gotten stung in the leg. It hurt about as much.

Kisan’s mother worked carefully, talking as she pulled excess paste from one wound and applied it to the next. “I’m his only family,” she said, her foggy breaths matching up with her icy voice. “I’d pissed off my relatives by running away with his father, and his father ran away from me when it turned out I was pregnant. Apparently, he loves his mother.” She sighed, pulling herself back. “It would’ve been nice if he didn’t.”

Taking a couple deep breaths, Xain stared up at the ceiling. The pain faded away, replaced with an all-too familiar numbness. At least some of these cuts would heal up a little before Kisan came back to rip them open again. The tiger took a little pleasure in doing that.

“I’m impressed,” Kisan’s mother said, crossing her legs and leaning back. “After all this time, you’re still kicking. As if there’s any point to it.”

“They’re scared,” Xain grunted. His stomach growled, undercutting his words.

Kisan’s mother sighed. “And they haven’t stopped. I know my son – he’s only going to get more violent from here. One of these days, he might end up killing you, and that’ll be that. You should give in. Like I did.”

Xain winced when Rasca shuffled, the fox likely trying to hold back a sob. At least Xain could pretend that he was just in pain. “Why do this?” Xain said. “You hate him. If I die, he dies. You’re free.”

“Maybe I want to give you a chance,” Kisan’s mother said. “Besides, this is basically my job. They don’t want you keeling over before you’ve even translated a word. Even though that’s looking a lot more likely now.”

“Ah,” Xain said, nodding his head. “They’ll blame you.”

Well, that hit a nerve – Kisan’s mother pulled herself off, brushing dirt off of her clothes. “Maybe I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart,” she said, glaring down at Xain. “For a fool of a kit who doesn’t know when to quit. Why are you young people so persistent? You and Kisan are children, butting your heads until one of them caves in. You’ve never felt what it’s like to give up, give in, accept your fate with dignity. There’s no point in trying – people much more powerful and much more dangerous than you will beat the s*** out of you to get what they want. What is it going to take for you to get that?”

“Not you,” Xain spat. “You are scared. If I die, you die. I accept nothing.”

Turning around, Kisan’s mother made a rude gesture in Xain’s direction. “You’ll learn,” she said, voice weakening at the end. “They always do.”

Ugh, at least she’d finally stopped talking. She’d be back soon – with Xain as weak as he was, it was going to be hard to refuse food and water. He hated how the tigers had gotten better at their routine. Kisan’s mother would show up first and try to get him to eat and drink, then would force him to after Kisan was done with him. They’d figured out how to torture him and start to chip away at his will. But he was still alive. Even if they could force him to eat, they couldn’t force him to talk. The more the winter dragged on, and the more snow piled up outside of the tent, the more of an advantage he had.

“I still love you,” Rasca said. That forced Xain out of his train of thought. He clung onto Rasca’s words as the fox sniffled and coughed his way through them. “I hope you know that. I’m, angry at you, for a lot of reasons. And Kisan. What Kisan’s doing to you, I’m glad I can’t see it. But, there’s how you won’t put a stop to it. How you’re not listening to me. How you’re not giving my plan a second thought. I really think I can protect the both of us. And just, whatever happens, I love you.”

It took a couple seconds for Xain to realize that Rasca had stopped speaking. “I love you, too,” Xain choked out, before Kisan’s mom walked back into the tent with a bowl of water and a bowl of gruel.

“So, how much are you going to cooperate today?” she said, sitting back down beside Xain. “Are you going to pretend to, then spit water in my face? Are you going to turn your head away? Are you going to open your mouth so it spills all over the place?” She set the gruel aside, lifting the bowl of water and moving it towards Xain’s face. “Bad news for you is that Kisan was always messier as a kid.”

Xain didn’t have the energy to do much more than try to pull himself away. Shifting the bowl so that it rested on one paw, Kisan’s mother used the other to jam Xain’s mouth open. She’d even put on thick gloves, so Xain wouldn’t have much luck trying to bite down, especially when his jaw was already sore from Kisan’s punches. Kisan’s mother was also careful enough to pour the water into Xain’s mouth, then quickly pull her free paw up to pinch Xain’s nose. Which stopped Xain from trying to choke himself. Wrapping her paw around Xain’s nose and mouth, she was able to shut his jaw in place. Between that and her tilting Xain’s jaw back, Xain really didn’t have much choice other than to swallow.

“Everything’s an ordeal with you,” she said, letting go of Xain. Xain glared at her as she said the bowl again. “Have some pity on this old woman and make things a little easier for me.”

Pulling his head away again, Xain said, “I am.”

With a sigh, Kisan’s mother repeated the process, talking in the meantime. “You really are impressive – I would’ve figured a kit would’ve stopped playing these games a long time ago. The ones back in my village certainly did. Maybe all that time you spent by the coast made you a little more rebellious. But it’s just a matter of time before you break.”

“No,” Xain said, licking his lips. Now that he could actually feel the inside of his mouth again, he grimaced at how bitter and dry it was. “I won’t.”

Kisan’s mother huffed. “I was like you once,” she said, spreading her arms out. “I was scared out of my mind when I gave birth to Kisan, but I rolled my sleeves back and got to work. And here I am.”

“Why not run?” Xain said. He wasn’t sure what the point of this was. Was she trying to annoy him into giving up? She kept talking about how hopeless everything was, how terrible her life was, how much she hated her son, that Xain just didn’t understand her. To be fair, he didn’t.

Setting the bowl of water aside, Kisan’s mom grabbed the gruel. “What?” she said.

“Go away,” he said, his voice starting to clear up. “You hate him. Everyone hates him. They wouldn’t stop you.”

Already starting to shove gruel into Xain’s mouth, Kisan’s mom sighed. “He’ll hunt me down and drag me back,” she said.

“Would he pick his mom or his gold?” Xain said, feeling food dribble down his chin.

Wiping that food off with a towel, Kisan’s mom said, without hesitation, “His mother. Always his mother. Not that he was ever in it for the money. He just liked bashing skulls in.”

That explained a little bit about Kisan. “Have you even tried?” Xain said, mouth watering as it realized it wasn’t being starved anymore. His stomach seemed to growl even louder than usual. Ugh, it was decent food – not much in the way of taste or texture, but they weren’t giving him anything rotten. Xain tried to keep a straight face. “Hid somewhere? Ran far away? Got on a horse? He won’t hurt you.”

“No, I haven’t tried,” Kisan’s mother said. She fed Xain some more gruel before she went on. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding from my son.”

Xain snorted. “What are you doing now?” he said.

Kisan’s mother glared at Xain. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” she said.

“I’m right,” Xain said.

Putting the gruel down, Kisan’s mother grabbed Xain’s chin and pulled his head back. “Right or not, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’d be more worried about yourself than me. I might not want to be here, but they’re not beating me up for not doing my job. That’s a lesson for you.”

Xain scowled. “I’m not here to learn.”

“Clearly,” Kisan’s mother said, reaching for the water again.

Silence settled over the both of them. Xain listened for Rasca while putting up resistance against Kisan’s mother, biting a little harder and trying to aim some kicks at her. Rasca had fallen silent, though Xain thought he could hear a sniffle or two. Poor Rasca. But Xain wasn’t about to stop. He’d show Rasca. He’d show everyone. If they got out of this, it’d be because of Xain. Maybe their feelings for each other would change. Even though it wasn’t likely they’d end up in a situation like this again, Xain couldn’t exactly blame Rasca for being angry and upset at Xain’s actions. Hopefully Rasca would learn better soon enough.

Xain woke up slowly, his nightmare fading into the darkness that was the gray tarp of his tent. It’d definitely snowed last night; he could see snowflakes blown the wind into his tent, scattering across his fur. He blinked. No, that wasn’t his fur – it was a little too smooth and brown. No, that was a blanket that someone had draped around him. That woke him up about as much as he could wake up. His eyes swam and his stomach churned as he tried to get a grip on his surroundings. Between his parched throat, headache, numb limbs, and a body that ached in pain with even the slightest movement, it took him way too long to realize that there was a tiger sitting in the tent beside him.

This wasn’t a tiger Xain had seen before. A bit bigger than Kisan, this tiger’s fur was littered in scars. At least, the fur that wasn’t hidden by the tiger’s impressively thick jacket, which stretched to his neck and wrists. The tiger, without a weapon, looked much calmer and more at ease than Kisan. Which sent a chill crawling up Xain’s spine – this was clearly an experienced warrior. The tiger didn’t have the temperament or aggression of a younger raider, but was probably even better at killing.

So Xain wasn’t exactly happy to see the bowls of food in front of the tiger. Still, the food looked strangely nice. Someone had even been kind enough to stick some pieces of meat on the gruel. That didn’t make a lot of sense. Neither did the tiger’s dour expression (though the odds were that was his normal face), or how the tiger didn’t move. The tiger had definitely noticed Xain was awake, if the tiger’s piercing brown eyes watching Xain’s every twitch and spasm was anything to go by. But the tiger didn’t so much as say a word.

Huh. Showing his canines, Xain growled at the tiger. No response. Xain pulled his legs a little closer, pins and needles immediately shooting up them. Nothing. Then the tiger grabbed the bowls, setting them a little closer to Xain. Xain took that as an opportunity to reach out with a leg and kick at the edge of the bowl of the water. Sure enough, he knocked it over, sending water spilling on the ground, as well as the tiger’s pants. With a sigh, the tiger pulled himself up, trying to wring out the water that was now soaking his right pant leg. A couple attempts later, the tiger decided it’d be better to leave the tent, probably in search of a towel.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, Xain waited. Maybe Kisan would show up. Maybe the tiger would put his strength to use. Either way, Xain was sure that’d been a front. They’d been far too nice to him. Things would go right back to normal soon enough. In the meantime, Xain could at least listen to Rasca snoring, as well as the noises of the camp. Xain frowned. He swore he could hear the sounds of saws, axes, tools in the background. Tigers hammering nails into wood. The frown turned into a grimace as Xain figured out the shipbuilders must’ve arrived. Now the tigers actually needed to start getting answers out of him and Rasca.

Xain stretched as much as he could, eyesight going black for a couple seconds as his body popped and creaked. Somehow, this was worse than when he’d been starving and freezing to death. He’d almost gotten used to that, especially with the numbness drowning out the pain. Now that he was warm and almost comfortable, he could feel what he’d gone through. After all those beatings, he wasn’t even sure if he could stand anymore, much less walk. He was just a pile of bruises and fur. When he had the strength to look down, he could see his ribs between the ropes. Xain tried not to think about that.

The tent flap opened, and the tiger walked back in. With a grunt, the tiger sat back down beside Xain again. This time, the tiger held a bunch of grapes in his paw; he stretched his arm out, raising them over Xain’s face. Xain had only seen grapes a couple of times, and certainly not around this time of year – someone had spent a lot of time and effort to bring these here. And they looked incredible. Drops of moisture running down their red skin. Small and plump, they almost beckoned to Xain. Xain’s mouth watered as he turned his head away and growled. Moving the grapes even closer, the tiger almost brushed them against Xain’s skin.

This had to be a trick. Maybe the grapes were poisoned. Maybe the leader was trying to test Xain’s resolve. Some part of Xain wanted to believe that the leader had had a change in heart, especially with the shipbuilders arriving. But, Xain needed more proof. If this really was a setup, it’d prove that they could manipulate Xain. He’d lose his bargaining chips; they’d have a routine they could use against him. So he batted the grapes back with his snout, snarling at the tiger. Pulling out a cloth and setting it on the ground, the tiger gently rested the grapes on it before lifting himself up. The tiger stared at Xain for a few seconds – Xain got the impression that was more the tiger’s normal face, which still spent a chill up his spine – and then left once again.

Okay, Kisan had to show up. This was perfect material for him. Xain had embarrassed a senior warrior, and Kisan would come in and try to make up for that. Except, that didn’t make much sense. Why bother with Kisan at all, if this was supposed to be a much more competent warrior? It’d be better to bring in someone who had the temperament and skill to torture someone without killing them. Then again, that might be what the senior warrior was for. Was Xain really willing to hold out for this long, barely on the cusp of dying and trying to figure out when they’d finally give up and off him? He didn’t have any other choice, but there was something about Kisan’s incompetence and his mom’s help that seemed so much more tolerable. At least he’d felt he’d had a fighting chance.

The tiger pulled back the tent flap once again. However, this time, two other tigers stepped inside. The first was the leader, dressed in a thick brown coat, gray pants, brown boots, and some jewerly on his arms and neck. Without his throne, he was the smallest of the three tigers, which made it a little easier for him to glare into Xain’s eyes. To the leader’s right was a tiger that Xain hadn’t seen before. She wore an outfit that kind of reminded Xain of Rasca – full of pockets and holes, many stuffed with tools, pieces of equipment, and papers. She wore thick-rimmed glasses, highlighting the piercing stare coming out of her brown eyes. Xain couldn’t tell which of the two was less happy to see him.

When the leader spoke, it was the new tiger who translated for him. She didn’t have any problems matching his tone of voice. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“What?” said Xain.

The leader took a deep breath. “I give up,” said the new tiger. “You can have whatever you’d like. Food, water, wealth, all yours. As long as you tell us how to build this ship.”

Xain blinked. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Though, Rasca would’ve probably told him Xain hadn’t made it easy. Ugh, why couldn’t Rasca wake up and see what Xain had pulled off? “What I want,” said Xain, coughing. He really hadn’t spoken actual words in a while. “Is to get out of here.”

The new tiger crossed her arms. “You know what I mean by whatever you’d like. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Then I’m not telling you anything,” Xain growled, spitting at the leader. It didn’t go nearly far enough to reach the leader, who didn’t respond.

“That’s unfortunate,” said the new tiger. “We need you, but we don’t need you. If you’d just work with us, all of our lives would be a lot easier. We’d get our ship built, find out whatever’s on the other side of the ocean, and you and that fox can go on your merry way. Otherwise, you’re helpful, but we could kill you and build that ship all the same. It’ll waste our time, but I’m willing to spend another winter finding someone who can translate for the fox, or at least force the fox to try to work with us. He’s been much more cooperative than you.”

Xain scoffed. “You won’t let us leave. With everything we know? The moment we’re not useful, you’ll kill us off. Otherwise, we could go to anyone else.”

“That’s not important,” said the leader and the new tiger all too quickly. “Right now, we want you both alive. If you keep up whatever pathetic struggle this is, we’ll gladly kill you off. We’re on a tight enough schedule as is. If you ruin it, what do you think we have to lose?”

Ugh, that was everything Xain feared they would say. “What do you think I have to lose?” said Xain. “You’re trying to trick me. The moment you leave, Kisan will run on in. I bet he’s outside right now.”

The leader rolled his eyes and muttered something before speaking. “We’ve taken care of Kisan,” the new tiger said. “Despite his best efforts, he shouldn’t be a problem. You have plenty of reasons not to trust us, but let’s see if the next few days change your mind. We’re giving you one last chance, Xain. You’d better take it.”

“Maybe I will,” Xain said, sneering at the leader. “And maybe I won’t.”

“That’s not a no,” the leader replied. Turning to the shipbuilder, the leader started a very brief, very quiet conversation. Xain could hear his name, but not much else. Then, with a nod, the leader turned his back. “When you want to talk to us, Eksa here will be the one you’ll talk to. Why don’t you two get acquainted with each other? You’ll be spending a lot of time together. Or not.”

The edges of his coat waving slightly, the leader left the tent. As soon as he was gone, Eksa walked to the other side of the tent, keeping as much distance from Xain as possible while glancing at him. That almost felt more insulting than Kisan yelling at him. What was she so afraid of? Out of the corner of his eye, Xain could see Eksa staring at Rasca. Since Rasca didn’t respond, Xain guessed he was probably still asleep. In any case, Eksa couldn’t pull her eyes away from the fox; Xain could see her eyes widen as she looked him up and down. “Did he really make those schematics?” she said, almost to herself.

Xain wasn’t entirely sure what that last word was, but, given what she talking about, it probably had something to do with Rasca’s notes. “Yes,” Xain said. “He wrote them. Or, he got them from somewhere. But he knows how a ship works.”

“They’re incredible,” Eksa said, still focusing on Rasca. Xain didn’t find that creepy at all. “I’ve never seen ships quite that size before. Nobody’s dared to try and sail across the ocean. And he really did?”

Nodding, Xain said, “Pretty much.”

Eksa’s expression turned much colder as she lifted her head to stare at Xain. “And, to understand him,” she said, “I have to talk to you. A dirty, disgusting little creature that doesn’t have the intelligence to understand shipbuilding.”

“And yet, here you are, talking to me,” Xain said, glaring back. “Isn’t that interesting.”

“That’s not important,” said Eksa, voice faltering slightly. “What is important is that you don’t botch up what you tell me. Your head’s on the line, you know.”

Xain sighed. “I know,” he said. “You’ve told me that more than a few times. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I don’t understand your precious shipbuilding.”

Eksa snarled, then stepped back and took a couple deep breaths. “Let’s see how you feel in a couple days,” she said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. “And, if you want to talk to me, I’m all ears.”

“Maybe I’d rather die than talk to you,” Xain said as Eksa turned around and pulled back the tent flap.

“Maybe that’s fine by me,” Eksa replied, leaving the tent.

Every morning for the last couple of days, the tiger had shown up to Xain’s tent. Sitting down in front of Xain, the tiger offered food and water – the food changed from day to day, but was always something decent, always garnished with herbs and spices, looked increasingly delicious. Xain would refuse, the tiger would offer food again, and they’d keep this up for the rest of the day. By nightfall, the tiger would eat what food and water there was, then leave. The tiger never forced Xain to eat anything, never hit Xain, never even spoke a word. Even as Xain’s vision grew weaker, his stomach growled, his body felt faint, and his sore throat screamed at him.

It wasn’t like the tiger spent the entire day sitting in the tent. If he had to go to the bathroom, or needed to talk to someone, or whatever it was he did, he’d set the food and water within arm’s reach of Xain, then leave. Xain hated those moments the most. The food always looked so tempting. Juicy, tender, moist, delicious. He knew that he could just reach out and eat it, end the suffering. Or, start the suffering. The leader had been right so far, but Xain had no reason to believe him.

And then there was Rasca. The fox didn’t talk much, and appeared to spend a lot of time sleeping. When he did talk, it was usually begging Xain to eat, to drink, to do something. Xain had tried to point out that he’d been able to force the tigers to at least change their strategy, but Rasca wasn’t interested in that. The fox said that, if Xain had gone along with the tigers in the first place, Xain would’ve ended up in a similar situation. Rasca still didn’t get it. Rasca didn’t understand the stakes. The tigers had every reason to want to keep Rasca alive; Xain was comparatively expendable. Xain could understand Rasca’s concern, but Xain had no reason to stop now.

Still, there was something different about today. The tiger had left a pile of grapes on a towel next to Xain. Just like normal. The tiger had walked away a couple minutes ago, and Xain didn’t think he’d be back for a couple hours. Just like normal. Rasca had asked Xain to try even a bite of food. Just like normal. But, for once, Xain found himself tempted to actually eat something. It’d just be a single grape. A single large, plump grape. Xain could even see the way that morning dew rolled off it.

But he couldn’t, could he? But, maybe if he picked the right one. Yes, there were a couple grapes that he could eat without the tiger noticing – they were buried towards the center, surrounded and almost enveloped by other grapes. The tiger couldn’t spot an exposed stem or two. There were so grapes, and some of them had even fallen off beforehand. Maybe the tiger would notice if Xain ate one of the ones on the ground, but some of the others were all too tempting. It felt a little easy to phrase things to himself like that; he was rebelling, resisting, taking advantage of the situation to eat without fear of punishment. But, the tiger leaving felt a little too coincidental. This all felt too coincidental.

He stretched his paws, hearing all those little pops and cracks as he tried to get his claws moving again. Xain had almost passed out when they’d untied the ropes around his arms. For the first time in weeks, he’d been able to move them again. Of course, thanks to all those weeks tied to a post, they were weak, jerking around erratically when they could get off the ground. They were about as hard to control as his injured leg had been. Hunger certainly hadn’t helped – Xain felt his anxiety spike as he reached out a shaky claw towards the grapes, trying to dedicate all his willpower to keep it from moving too much.

Only a couple inches away. He could almost touch it. Xain frantically glanced at the entrance of the tent. Yes, he knew that the guard would take a while. But it was all too tempting to imagine someone rushing inside to find him eating. He gasped as he felt his claw brush the edge of one of the grapes. His fur stood on end as he ran his claw back towards the stem, cut into it, saw the grape land on the towel. Xain picked it up, then carefully brought it to his mouth. And, with one last glance at the entrance, he ate it.

It was everything he’d imagined it to be, and more. He didn’t even know why he’d been so nervous in the first place. The taste, how fresh it was, the juice. Xain licked his lips. The only issue that he had was how quickly that all went away. In a minute, he went back to parched lips, a dry throat, a rumbling stomach. He needed to eat another one, and he could already see a couple that looked perfect. So Xain grabbed a second grape, then a third, then a fourth. Faster and faster and faster. At this point, he wasn’t trying to be careful – he needed to eat.

Xain paused, looking down at the mess he’d made. Whoops; he wasn’t going to be able to hide that. There was a gaping hole in the middle of the grapes, with bits of fur littering the towel. He could try to readjust it or even flip it around, but the guard would probably notice. Taking a deep breath, Xain pulled his legs closer to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and stared down at the grapes. So much for rebelling. At least he’d gotten the chance to eat some grapes, right? That was worth everything that was going to come after this.

The minutes and hours bled away until the familiar bootsteps of the guard stomped their way into Xain’s hearing. Xain froze and stared down at his knees as the guard pushed back the tent flap and stepped inside. The guard paused. Xain held his breath. Was this it? Was it time to call in Kisan? After a few seconds, the guard, with a grunt, lowered himself to the ground and stretched his back. Nudging the grapes with a claw, the guard looked up at Xain.

Okay, forget it. This was ridiculous. Staring right back at the guard, Xain reached down, picked up a grape, and ate it. Not a response. After Xain ate a few more grapes, the guard took the opportunity to set the water bowl a little closer to Xain. Xain picked that up and drank it as well, feeling water splash onto his chest and the blanket as his paws shook. Ugh, he probably looked ridiculous, but maybe that was fitting. It was only after he finished off both the grapes and the water that the guard decided to leave, taking the bowl and the grapes with him.

Setting his head back against the pole, Xain sighed. That hadn’t been nearly enough. His stomach still roared, and he couldn’t stop thinking about those grapes. And chances were he wouldn’t have a meal like that in a long time. But, now he could think. He wasn’t stuck panicking or anger or sadness. Now he could think about Rasca, think about where he was and what he was doing, what all he’d done to get here, the captors that he’d stood up to. He could think about his family and his village and the winter and the spring. Some part of him didn’t regret what he’d done. Maybe that moment of lucidity was worth all the punishment.

When the guard came back, it was with bread and gruel. The guard didn’t put up any resistance when Xain started to eat those, but didn’t quite like Xain finish. Since it wasn’t like they could talk to each other, the guard resorted to gestures to explain why. None of which made much sense. Something about eating and stomachs bursting. In any case, the guard decided to move the food away from Xain. Xain tried to glare at the guard or shuffle a little closer, but without any luck. Even if they’d stopped tying his arms together, he was still firmly bound to the pole.

The rest of the day passed on like this. The guard would give Xain food, Xain would eat it, the guard would pull the food away, and they’d wait. By the time the guard finally left, Xain felt exhausted. His head throbbed, his arms and legs ached, and his whole body started to recognize what had happened to it over the last couple weeks. He almost felt warm in his blankets, his stomach had finally stopped growling, and he was coughing every few minutes. However, that frantic, near-starving, painless sensation had gone away. For better or for worse, he could finally feel again.

It wasn’t until the sun slipped below the horizon and Xain could hardly see his arms in front of his face before Rasca took the opportunity to speak. “Thanks,” Rasca said quietly, voice slightly shaky. Had Rasca been crying? Either Rasca had gotten a lot quieter, or Xain hadn’t noticed. And Xain really didn’t want to think he hadn’t been noticing.

“We will see what happens,” Xain said.

A pause. “Will you talk to Eksa?” said Rasca.

Xain coughed. “Maybe,” he said, tapping a paw against his chest. “I don’t want to. She is an a**hole.”

“Yeah,” Rasca replied, “But she is our ticket out of here.”

Sighing, Xain lowered his head. Of course Rasca hadn’t changed his mind. “Do you really want to put our lives on the line like this?” Xain said. He wanted to say his own life, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to poke at Rasca like that. “What if they do not listen to you?”

“They have been listening to me quite a lot,” said Rasca. “And I have never said a word to them.” A deep breath. “And, how does your plan end? You scared them into giving you more, but they will not leave you let. And they will kill you if it is summer and they cannot sail. You have to work with them if you want to live.”

“I do not know if I scared them,” Xain said. He stared down at all the blue and gray spots he could see hiding in his fur, seeing the fists that had made them. “Maybe I will die either way, and this lets me live longer. Or, somehow, they decide that I am not worth the trouble, will not tell anyone about the ship, since I do not know how to make one. And then they let me go.”

Rasca shifted. “I would not go with you.”

“No,” Xain said. “You would not. But I know you will come back.”

“Will I?” said Rasca.

They both fell silent. Biting his lip, Xain closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain in his chest.

“I, did not mean it like that,” Rasca said after a few seconds. “Just, I will not be useful to them anymore. And then I have to be careful. I would be more careful if you were there.”

Tasting blood, Xain opened his eyes. “And your plan could end there,” said Xain slowly. “We could both die.”

“But you would live longer,” said Rasca.

That was a fair point. Not that he was going to admit that. “We will see,” Xain said. “If things get better, maybe I will consider your plans. I do not think they will let me live the moment I do not need to. That could be as soon as that ship hits the water.”

“And I need to prove to them that I need you to live, especially if I am going to lead them to my land,” said Rasca.

“I hope you do,” Xain said. “Until then, I will do what I feel is best.”

Nothing happened.

Every day, the tiger came in and offered more and more food. And every day, Xain ate and drank everything laid out in front of him. It took him about a week or two before he started to feel normal again – his paws stopped shaking, his vision wasn’t blurry, he didn’t have chills all the time, and he couldn’t quite see his ribs anymore. Outside of having been sitting for the last several weeks, he almost felt okay. Better yet, Kisan and his mom hadn’t shown up at all. Everything was quiet, peaceful, relaxed. Other than the sounds of the ships getting built, the growing ocean winds, and the winter gradually giving way to warmer afternoons and frostless nights, Xain could almost forget his situation. He’d done it. The tigers had given up, at least for now.

Of course, he had to deal with Eksa. The better he got, the more she showed up. Minutes turned into hours of her lingering outside the tent, walking inside, throwing a few questions in Xain’s direction, making some failed attempts at trying to talk or gesture to Rasca, and leaving. Xain was answering her questions, if not the way she wanted them answered. He was careful to take what Rasca said and distort it. Change some of the words. Claim he didn’t understand others. Get numbers wrong. Answer other questions. Give her just enough information that she had a reason to keep coming back to him, but not enough that he was being helpful.

Rasca didn’t appreciate that, if the lack of conversation outside of Eksa’s visits was anything to go by. But Xain couldn’t shake the idea that this situation was temporary. Not that Xain didn’t trust Rasca; it was just hard for him to believe Rasca could make things work, given the odds they were up against. Plus, Xain got a little entertainment out of stringing Eksa along like this. If she thought he was some uneducated, filthy creature, it made it a little easier to give her bad advice. The looks on her face were always priceless.

In spite of all of that, Eksa was persistent. She apparently had enough authority that she could even start untying them, which she did once Xain felt like he had some chance of not passing out when he stood up. He almost did; she had to grab him as he struggled to pull himself up using the pole, and he almost fell on top of her. As long as it had taken him to use his paws again (and they still felt way too big and sore), using his legs felt like it was going to take even longer. Eksa and the tiger had to walk Xain and Rasca around so that they would be able to face each other.

And, for the first time in months, Xain looked in Rasca’s eyes again. Rasca looked alright – one of his eyes still looked a little swollen, but he looked almost exactly like he had before the raid. Xain cried right there and then, reaching out to give Rasca a hug. After a little bit of manuvering and struggling, the tiger and Eksa were able to set them down on the ground. Xain and Rasca spent the next few hours lying on the dirt, holding onto each other. No words, nothing more than feeling each other’s fur and looking each other up and down, like they’d never get a chance to see each other again.

Not that that changed much. If Eksa was hoping that Xain seeing his boyfriend was going to make him more cooperative, she was sorely mistaken.

Seeing Rasca reminded Xain of everything he had to lose. Everything that Xain had lost. He’d pushed his memories to the back of mind, letting them hide while he tried to survive. Now that he could think again, those memories slowly flowed back into his thougths. Fighting with his sisters, fighting off that monster, his home surrounded by tigers, the village in flames. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to see them again. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything left for him to see. As far as he knew, Rasca was all he had left. And if his only option to draw things out, it was worth it if it meant seeing Rasca again.

“What did you write down here?” Eksa said. She stood next to Rasca; Xain could see her pointing to a drawing on a piece of paper. It looked vaguely like the bottom of the mast of a ship. Most of the questions she asked were like this. What a certain number was, what was in that diagram, if something was a good substitute. Xain could usually get away with fudging the numbers or saying he didn’t know what units Rasca used.

Rasca leaned forward, staring at the page. “Three meters,” he said. “For the board that is holding up some of the ropes.”

With a nod, Eksa walked over to Xain. “Did you get that?” she said, sighing as she rolled up the paper and shoved into her backpack.

“Four somethings for a rope board?” Xain said.

“We’ve talked about this,” Eksa growled. “You should know what he’s talking about.”

Xain shrugged. “That was a couple days ago,” he said. “Kinda having trouble remembering things these days. For no reason.”

Glancing at Rasca, Eksa pinched her nose. “I think he said meters,” she said. “He uses that word a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Xain said. “Sounds about right.”

“And how many of them are there?” Eksa said.

Xain crossed his arms. “I said four,” he said.

“You say a lot of things,” said Eksa.

That was the idea. “It should be four,” said Xain.

Taking a step back, Eksa shook her head. “And what is a rope board supposed to be?” she said.

“A board with ropes on it?” Xain said.

“Are the ropes attached to the board, or running through the board, or something else?” Eksa said.

Xain shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I’m not an expert.”

Eksa scowled. “I think I’ll just use some other drawings for that,” she said. “And everything’s to scale, so I can double-check those numbers.”

“Why even ask me, then?” Xain said. “Sounds like he keeps good notes, and all you need is a couple numbers.”

“He doesn’t take very good notes,” Eksa said. Ouch – hopefully Rasca hadn’t responded to that. “Piecing everything together is going to take time. Time that could be better spent on other things. Like sailing away from here.” Setting a paw on her hip, she glared at Xain. “Playing this game isn’t doing you any favors.

“So I’m told,” Xain said.

Eksa growled. “I have half a mind to bring Kisan back here.”

“But you won’t,” said Xain. “Because then I’ll stop telling you anything at all.”

“If you’re going to keep doing this, maybe I’m fine with that,” said Eksa. “I’m going to vomit if I have to keep using this disgusting language around someone who doesn’t know a mast from a rudder.”

Xain spread out his arms. “And yet, you’re still talking,” he said. “Where did a shipbuilder like you learn such a ‘disgusting language’?” He made sure to make air quotes at the end.

“You hang around slaves long enough, you pick up some of the tongue,” Eksa said.

“No, you don’t,” said Xain. “You can probably say that about half the tigers in this camp, but most of them can’t speak a word of my language.”

Eksa glanced at Rasca again. Xain hated how fixated she was on him. She drooled over Rasca as much as she spat on Xain. Either way, it was disgusting. “How about we talk about more important things, like how we’re going to kill you if you don’t do your job,” Eksa said.

“Why were you hanging around them?” said Xain. “You sound like the kind of tiger to sit back and let everyone else do the work.”

“What about Kisan?” Eksa said. “He knows your language too.”

“I don’t pretend to understand how Kisan works,” Xain said. “Maybe he learned it because it paid him a little more. Maybe his mom taught him it. Maybe it makes it a little easier for him to scare people and bash their skulls in.”

The shipbuilder turned around. “Whatever,” she said. “You have your job. Do it. I don’t think my backstory’s going to matter much when you’re lying dead on the floor.”

“Good talk,” Xain said as Eksa walked off. He had no idea why she expected threatening him with death was going to scare him. Xain had gotten so many death threats that now they went in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t exactly like he was going to make it out alive no matter what he did. Not that she needed to know that.

Silence. Xain stared outside, focusing on the patches of grass that hadn’t been trampled by the tigers currently making their way around the camp. Green stems.

“Rasca?” Xain said. If Rasca was going to start so many conversations, Xain might as well return the favor every once in a while. “Your notes are fine.”

Rasca snorted. Xain’s heart skipped a beat – it had been so long since he’d heard Rasca get anywhere close to laughing. Was it a good sign? Probably not. Still, it wasn’t something Xain was used to. “That is your concern?” Rasca said. “Thank you, but, there are bigger problems.”

Xain sighed. “I do not know why you think they will keep me around. What more do they want from you?”

“My home, my country, my leaders, the lords, currency, geography, weather,” Rasca said. “Everything.”

“Do they really care?” said Xain. “They seem like they want to destroy first and ask questions later.”

“I will make them care,” Rasca said with a confidence that Xain wasn’t used to. The fox had usually sounded so quiet, timid, like he’d been fading into the background. Now Rasca sounded firm, with all the faith of someone who’d been planning and thinking through something for a long time. Xain couldn’t help but admire that. “The people in my country are, less than kind. These raiders will be in for a surprise if they try to invade. So they will have to listen to me if they want to survive.”

Xain paused. “Would you really do that?” he said slowly. “Betray them like that?”

“I, hope not,” said Rasca. “At the very least, I hope to get the tigers to give up. Maybe trade and work together with the foxes. If the tigers want to go to war, they will probably have a hard time of it.”

“How come?” Xain said.

“The tigers cannot use magic,” said Rasca. “But the foxes can.”

Ah. That couldn’t end well for the tigers. “Okay,” said Xain. “How good are they at magic?”

A pause. “Not as good as you, but there’s more foxes,” Rasca said. “Bigger ships, more soldiers, all that.”

“So, your hope is that the tigers will come to their senses?” said Xain. He sighed. “The leader seems pretty motivated. I’m not sure a couple losses will be enough to get him to change his mind.”

“Knowing the king of the foxes, I think the leader will rethink things,” Rasca said. “Especially when the leader and his troops are getting hunted down and destroyed.”

Xain pinched the bridge of his nose. “What good will you be then?” he said, closing his eyes and trying to think. “Is the king the kind of person who is willing to negotiate? Will the leader believe you? And why did you not say any of this earlier?”

“I did not think I needed to explain this,” said Rasca. “I was kind of hoping that you would trust me. But it looks like I underestimated how determined you were. And if I have told the leader to not pick a fight, and the leader does pick a fight, I think the leader will be more inclined to listen when I say that he can, in fact, negotiate with the king. And I will be the negotiator.”

“You?” said Xain. “Did you not say that your father was murdered because someone was trying to take over your position?”

“The king of foxes is not very fond of nobles doing that,” Rasca said. “He has arrested several nobles for trying to get rid of each other. I feel like I could use a noble killing my father to get his attention. Besides, I am not interested in taking over from my father. It is, not a position I am fond of.”

Well, Xain couldn’t blame Rasca for that. “What is your goal, though?” said Xain. “At the end of the day, even if the tigers and the foxes get along, that might change in the future. You are linking the continents together. Anyone strong enough could come from one to the other and try to take over. Do you want that?”

“I do not,” Rasca said immediately, then paused. “I know this is, less than ideal. But it is not as though we have any other choice.”

“We can do nothing,” said Xain. “And make sure that we do not put anyone else at risk for the sake of our lives.”

Silence. “I can make this work,” Rasca said. “If I tell the right stories, get everyone to be scared of each other, then nobody will go anywhere. And if I can control the ships and the blueprints, then the tigers will not be able to come back, and I will not tell the foxes where I ran into them. Problem solved.”

“And you can do that?” said Xain. “All on your own? Nobody will be curious enough to try to sail to my continent, and nobody will build ships of their own and sail to yours? How long do you think that will last?”

“Maybe it was going to happen eventually,” Rasca said. “I am certainly not the only person who wanted to do something like this – I was just the first to succeed. And perhaps we do not need to go that far. Maybe the tigers will give up like the rest of my crew did. They were happy to go along with me until the voyage had gone on too long. There are plenty of islands between our continents, to say nothing of the mountains in the ocean. Maybe the tigers would just drop us off on one of those and leave us to die. Worst case scenario, we find ourselves with a new place to live. Best case scenario, it is on my side of the mountains, and we can try to get the attention of one of the ships sailing to the border stations at the mountains.”

Hm. It seemed more like Rasca was trying to persuade Xain with a possibility instead of Rasca’s actual plan. “Neither of us have ever lived on an island, so I think a new place to live might be overselling it,” said Xain. “But, why even go to the trouble of leading them in the right direction? Why can you not force them to sail around, waste time, make it clear you have no idea what you are doing?”

“I want to go home,” said Rasca. “I want to go home with you. I want to prove myself. I do not want them to kill you. Xain, I know this is not a good situation, but I think this is something that I can make work. If I play everyone against each other – and I can – then I can be the bridge between the continents. And maybe we can find a way to keep everyone on a level playing field.”

Xain shook his head. “That is a lot for one, or even two people, to do,” he said. “And there are so many people who can slip by you. Who can betray you. Maybe it is better to do nothing, Rasca. Why do you need to prove anything to anyone? Do you want to play such a dangerous game?”

“For you,” Rasca said. “For us. I will not die like this. Far from home, cold, miserable, having done nothing and proved nothing anyone would know about. I made it this far – I want the person who killed my father to know that. I want everyone who laughed at me to know that. And, if I’m the bridge, I can keep everyone safe for just a little longer.”

“Maybe if we both die here, we can keep everyone safe,” Xain said.

Rasca slammed the back of his head against the pole, causing Xain to jerk forward in surprise. “You are as thick as this pole,” Rasca said. He sighed. “Sorry. But, I think you will understand me with time. That I know what I am doing. Please, work with me.”

“And if I don’t?” said Xain.

A pause. “I will not let them know I can talk to them,” Rasca said.

“Okay,” Xain said. He didn’t have anything else to say – they’d reached an impasse once again. None of these options were pleasant, but he was still fairly sure that dying was a better alternative than putting everyone at risk for the sake of impressing a few people he had never even met. And Xain was more than sick of people telling him that he’d understand eventually, that he just didn’t quite get it yet. Maybe Rasca was a little better than the others, but it didn’t stop his words from going in one ear and going out the other.

Xain understood. Xain understood better than any of them did. They were cowards, shoved into the corner and clinging onto anyone and anything in the hopes that they could get away from it. They didn’t have the courage of their convictions. Not even Rasca. Xain didn’t think anybody could do what Rasca was planning on doing. Did Rasca know that? Xain wasn’t entirely sure. At the very least, it was an incredibly naïve plan. And, if Rasca didn’t have any better ideas, Xain didn’t have any reason to stop what he was doing.

It felt weird, not being afraid to die. But Xain had been afraid to die for so long that the feeling had numbed like all the others, and it hadn’t quite come back. Not that Xain wanted it to.

Xain wasn’t sure when he figured out that Rasca was trying to work against him. Maybe it was Rasca’s attempts to use very specific words that Xain wasn’t very familiar with. It was hard to bluff or manipulate a translation when Xain had to think of a similar word to use. Maybe it was the way that Eksa kept glancing at Rasca, and how she went to Rasca more often when it was a numbers question. Either way, it was about a week before Xain decided to stop translating altogether. He couldn’t exactly fault Rasca – Rasca was trying to get the ship built without putting Xain in too much danger. After all, Rasca could only answer one in every few questions, generally by lifting up a couple claws when Eksa pointed to a number in his blueprints. But Xain wasn’t going to play along with someone he’d never been told about.

After a session of standing at screaming at Xain, Eksa threatened to take away his food. And that gave Xain the idea to stop eating. Put a bit of fear into Eksa, maybe get Rasca to stop sidestepping Xain. Xain was full well aware that he was manipulating Rasca, and was reminded of that every time Rasca begged Xain to change his mind. Maybe, in a more normal situation, Xain would feel guilty. This wasn’t a normal situation.

Nobody stopped Xain. Rasca couldn’t reach him, the tiger watching over Xain didn’t try to force-feed him, and Eksa didn’t do much outside of the usual threats and rude gestures. After what had happened with Kisan, maybe they were hoping they could coax Xain into eating again. Between giving Xain more blankets (which Xain tried to shake off), better food (which Xain ignored), and stopping Kisan from getting into the tent (which Xain found very entertaining), they were trying their best. But Xain was determined, even as he could feel himself settle back into numb limbs, aching joints, headaches, a parched throat, and that fake energy that he’d had the last time he’d been starving.

Even the leader of the tigers came to beg to him. Xain wouldn’t dignify him with a response – it was hilarious to see the fear in the leader’s eye, the way the leader paced back and forth, the snippets of conversations that the leader had with Eksa. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, the leader was in control of the situation. But, for all his power and all his influence, the leader had never quite accounted for someone who wasn’t willing to play by the rules. And with that someone rejecting his authority, and the leader desperate to get that ship built, the leader was not taking it well.

Still, it would’ve been nicer if Rasca was actually working with Xain. Rasca answered whatever questions he could, ate the food and drank the water offered to him, and was hard at work to get the ship built. That nagged at Xain. If Xain died, it wouldn’t matter much if Rasca went and sailed away anyway. Maybe Rasca would have even more reason to. Then Rasca would put everyone, including Xain’s family, in harm’s way. For all he knew, Xain was just delaying the inevitable. Not that convincing Rasca to give up was on the table. Xain was far too tired and hungry to come up with complete sentences. To say nothing about how getting Rasca to look past his pride and attempts to win the favor of people he didn’t care about had been hard enough already.

As such, Xain was more than a little surprised to wake up in the middle of the night to hear a voice whispering behind him.

“Xain? Are you awake?”

With how dark the inside of the tent was, Xain wasn’t sure if those were spots in his eyes. Blinking a few times, Xain said, “Yes?”

“I have a plan.”

“What plan?” said Xain, clutching his head. Ugh. Something else he’d had to get used to again. “You told me.”

“No,” Rasca said quickly. The fox sounded animated, like he couldn’t sit still. If the shuffling noises behind Xain were any indicator, that was the case. “Another plan.”

Xain sighed. “It is not my plan, is it?” he said.

“It’s better,” said Rasca. The fox was almost breathless. “We can stop them at the border.”

“What border?” Xain said.

“The border between our continents,” said Rasca. “It makes so much sense, now that I’m thinking about it.”

What? “It does not make sense to me,” Xain said. “What is at the border?”

“When I sailed here,” Rasca said, slowing down slightly so he wouldn’t trip over his words, “I had to go through the border. It is a line of steep mountains that divides the ocean in two. There are a bunch of outposts along the mountains, and those usually only have a couple of guards. Mine only had one. They are often well-stocked and have plenty of places to hide in.”

“So we give them the slip?” said Xain. “Again?”

Rasca sucked in a breath. “I know it did not work well for us last time,” he said. “But, it is an isolated place, so it is not like the tigers will ever see the other continent. And we can get the help of the guard. He should be familiar with me, so it should be possible for me to be the negotiator.”

“And if they kill the guard?” Xain said.

“I doubt they will,” said Rasca. “We will tell them the truth – the guards can talk to the people on my continent. If the guards die, my king will send an army over.”

“How can they talk to the people on your continent?” said Xain. “And would they not do so in any case?”

A pause. “It is, hard to explain,” Rasca said. “It is like, you can think something, and the other person knows that you are thinking of something right away. You have to want them to know you are thinking of something, but that is easy. But the outpost is a long ways away from the kingdom. It would take weeks for the ships to get ready and the army to head over. The guard will not send a message unless it is an absolutely serious situation.”

“An invading army seems like a serious situation,” Xain said.

“Not if we can convince the tigers to turn back or give up,” Rasca said. “The tigers never see the continent, believe the foxes will go after them if they go any closer, and the foxes will be none the wiser. The guard may choose to say something, but it is not as though the foxes believe there is anything beyond the border. My sailors have already told them so.”

Xain crossed his arms. “How do we get the tigers to give up?” he said. “You know what the leader is like. Also, the guard will definitely know there is something beyond the border. Especially if you are here.”

Rasca sighed. “That is the difficult part, yes,” he said. “I can probably invent some story that I ended up near the border, and that the tigers had been living on some islands near the border for a very long time. They do not look like my tigers, but I can say they were monsters leftover from something that I am not sure you believe in. If the foxes go out and check, they will certainly spend a long time doing so.”

Xain wasn’t exactly sure what Rasca meant by the whole believing comment. Not that Xain had ever subscribed so heavily to the local nature gods – which they didn’t need to know about – but Xain couldn’t imagine their faiths being so different. Then again, everything else had been. Regardless, Xain had other issues. “How do the tigers give up?” said Xain.

“Best case scenario, we hide,” Rasca said. “We get close to the guard, then we hole ourselves up with food and supplies. There is usually enough for years, so the tigers will definitely have less than we do. They will get tired, hungry, and desperate, and then they will give up. Then all we need to do is convince the guard not to tell anyone. I think he will, so long as we make it clear they are not coming back.”

“Why?” said Xain.

“They have no idea where to look,” Rasca said. “Like I said, it could take them weeks to get to my continent, if they take the best routes. And there are not many islands between the outpost and my continent to rely on. I also doubt the leader will keep his position after this. It may take a long time for anyone to have the guts and power to do what he is doing, and the ship may not even exist by that point.”

“Worst case scenario?” Xain said. “If we cannot get to the guard.”

A long pause. “Well,” Rasca said. “They will go back home all the same.”

“And us?” said Xain. He already knew the answer; he just wanted Rasca to say it.

Rasca took a deep breath. “If we die, we die,” said Rasca. “You are right – if we keep going, it will be much harder to do anything. I do not want the foxes and the tigers to interact, even if I feel like I can be the negotiator. And this plan is more likely to succeed.”

“What happens afterward?” said Xain.

“We can wait for the next ship, or ask for one,” Rasca said. “And then we can go back to my country.”

“And then to my continent?” said Xain.

Rasca didn’t say anything.

“How can I stay hidden?” Xain said. “I do not exactly look like a fox.”

“I can throw some robes on you,” said Rasca. “You are somewhat tall for a fox, and the tails might get attention, but I can say that you are a priest or something of that nature. I can make up a story that you had gone to the border on a spiritual journey or something, then had gotten stranded among the tigers before I had.”

“You are making up a lot of things,” said Xain. “Can you do all this?”

Rasca sighed. “Worst case scenario, we will be in the same situation we are in right now,” he said. “As long as I continue to work with the tigers, they will have no reason to believe that I am lying, especially when it comes to a continent they do not know anything about. They cannot afford to doubt me when I tell them that killing the guard would send an army their way. It would be much easier to leave the guard alone. Best case scenario, nobody will have any reason to go beyond the outpost. It is not exactly smooth sailing, and it is a shot in the dark for either the tigers or the foxes to get where they want to go.”

“But you will still attempt to sail back here?” said Xain.

“Yes,” said Rasca. “I found what I was looking for, and I need to prove it to them. And I want you to go back home.”

Xain lowered his head, blinking furiously. “I wish I could get you to understand that you do not need to prove anything,” said Xain.

“I do not want to come back a laughingstock,” said Rasca. “I was right. They almost killed me and I was right.”

“Do they even care?” Xain said. “It sounds like they ignored you from the beginning. I bet that, if you come back to them, they will think you are making all of this up. Even if you told them I was not a fox, they would not believe me, because you told them. Are they really worth your time?”

A long pause. “After all this time,” said Rasca, “I do not want to give up now. Will you at least help me get to the outpost? Assuming we do not die at sea or anything, I think we will have better odds than we do right now.”

“Give me a second,” Xain said. He took a deep breath. It was a tempting offer. It meant that Xain could theoretically spend a few more weeks alive, a few more weeks with Rasca. It also meant sailing across a treacherous sea, getting holed up in some building shoved up against a mountain, and hope that Rasca could navigate a wave of lies and half-truths in a hostage situation. Xain had never really thought of Rasca as a good liar. Rasca had been quiet, or had omitted things, but it was usually obvious that there was something going on beneath the surface. It was possible that was just the way that Rasca acted in private. Which had been all of the time before they’d been captured by the tigers. Even now, Xain wasn’t sure what Rasca was capable of. Xain had been too busy starving or getting beat up to pay attention to what Rasca was doing. Still, it seemed like Rasca did have the tiger’s favor. Maybe this had some chance of working out.

Most importantly, it gave Xain more time. If he died now, then he wouldn’t be able to get Rasca to change his mind about being the bridge between the continents. Not that Xain was entirely sure how to get back home. Rasca would have to build another ship, and a crew would have to sail that ship, and it’d be that much harder to hide the existence of the continents. Maybe not going back home was a sacrifice that Xain would have to make. He’d be a little less of a burden on his family, and he’d still be with Rasca. And, well, it wasn’t like he had much choice.

“Yes,” said Xain. “I will help.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Rasca said breathlessly. “And does this mean you will not yourself starve again?”

“I will not,” Xain said. “There is no point in delaying anything.”

Rasca coughed a few times. “Great, great,” said Rasca. A deep breath. “I am, happy. I am so tired of this place. It is sad and painful to me. I would rather be anywhere else.”

“I would too,” said Xain.

The next morning, Eksa was more than a little surprised when Xain, wrapped up in blankets, answered her questions clearly and quickly. She didn’t believe him at first – she gave him suspicious glares, threw follow-up questions at him, asked what specific words meant, and so on. But, with the help of a little confirmation from Rasca, Eksa seemed satisfied. Apparently the other shipbuilders must have been as well, because Eksa spent less and less time visiting. The exasperation and anger gave way to her almost smiling as she frantically jotted down notes and talked with length to Xain (but really Rasca) about how the ship was coming together. It was interesting seeing how much she enjoyed her job. She treated ships with far more respect and reverence than she had ever treated Xain. He got the feeling she’d rather let him die than have her perfect, dead ship suffer so much as a scratch. What a sense of priorities.

Unlike last time, it only took a week or two for Xain to get back to something resembling health. He could walk and move around on his own again. Which he had plenty of opportunity to, since Eksa had told the guard to untie him and Rasca a little more often. Sometimes the guard would even let Xain and Rasca leave the tent (in ropes, of course). It was almost nice to step outside into the fresh, late spring air, run his paws through the few patches of grass and hadn’t been trampled, and see the clean ocean beyond. Getting yelled at and taunted by tigers, on top of seeing the enormous ship coming together by the shoreline, made Xain happy that he didn’t get too many opportunities to walk outside.

It felt strange. After all this time worrying about something that had been right in front of his face, he didn’t know what to do with himself now that it had been pushed back. It hadn’t been pushed back by much, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he found himself crossing that bridge, but it felt like the weight on his shoulders had been replaced with a slightly smaller one. At least he had a little more breathing room.

“Wake up.”

Xain slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the light that streamed in through the open tent flap. Eksa stood in front of him, snapping her claws in his face. As soon as she recognized he was awake, Eksa moved over to the knots on the ropes holding Xain and Rasca together. Crouching down, she began to undo the knots. “It’s done,” Eksa said, noticing that Xain had been staring at her for a couple seconds. “We’re going.” She sounded impatient, words almost blending together as she fixated on the knots.

Oh. The sounds of hammers and tools had faded away the last couple days, and Xain had heard the sounds of something heavy being moved, but Xain hadn’t thought they’d finish so soon. He could feel his stomach knot up for the first time in days. As Eksa finished and stood up, Xain craned his head around to look at Rasca. He found Rasca looking right back, eyes wide. They looked at each other for a couple seconds, then nodded.

“They’re waiting outside,” Eksa said, brushing the dust off. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to get ready. Do you need me to bring a bucket?”

Flipping over and getting onto his paws and knees, Xain moved over to Rasca. “We’re good,” he said, flopping onto his side beside Rasca. “I just, haven’t seen him in a while.”

Rasca settled down beside Xain, snuggling Xain as Xain wrapped his arms around him. With a snort, Rasca said, “Xain, did you grow a fourth tail?”

“What was that?” Eksa said, with a look of disgust on her face.

“Do you want me to translate that?” said Xain, glancing at her.

Eksa scowled. “I’d rather you not,” she said. “I’ll take the hint. If you need time with your boyfriend, fine. But if you’re not out in a couple minutes, we’re dragging you out.” With that, she turned and walked outside.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Xain looked into Rasca’s eyes. “What do we do?” Xain whispered. “Where are they going to put us?”

“Depends on if they keep us separate or not,” said Rasca. “I do not see why they would. And we will probably get pushed into some random room. I do not think they hate us enough to put us with the crew or the food supplies, but I doubt we will be near anything important.” He paused. “You are not seasick, are you?”

Xain thought a few minutes. “Seasick?” he said. Rasca was combining the words sea and sick, but Xain wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. Nobody really went out to sea; he’d heard some stories from travelers and traders, but none of them ever mentioned being sick.

“Oh,” said Rasca. “If you are in sea, you might get, sick? But not really sick? You feel weird, your stomach hurts, and you might throw up.”

Hng. “And what would that have to do with anything?” said Xain.

“It may be very uncomfortable,” Rasca said. “You will get used to it, but-”

“Is that all?” said Xain. He paused. “I, do not want to be rude or anything, but I do not think this is a problem? I will be with you, and even if I am sick or uncomfortable, it will be fine. I was thinking more of Kisan, or the leader, or what islands will be between us and the continent, and what they will try to do to us in the meantime.”

Rasca shook his head. “I think we will be fine. I think they will ignore us for now. We do not need to build their ship anymore, and the mountains are a long way away. They may pull us up to ask us questions about this ship or this route, but they have no reason to waste time on us.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more seconds. “So,” Xain said. “We will be left alone, in a room of our own, for some time? Sounds-”

“Get out!” shouted Eksa from outside. “I’m giving you one warning!”

With a sigh, Xain let go of Rasca. They quickly pulled themselves up and made their way outside. Sure enough, the leader was waiting outside, flanked by several of his guards. It seemed a little excessive, especially for transporting two unarmed, weak prisoners, but the leader had already had to deal with Xain long enough that he must’ve decided he wanted to keep Xain from wasting any more time. Not that Xain had any plans to. As the guards surrounded Xain and Rasca and forced them to start moving, Xain only glanced back once at the tent. The tent that he’d spent months in. Months starving, months of being beaten, months of being threatened. And a few of the tigers were already taking it apart and rolling it up like it was nothing. Somehow, Xain had thought it’d take them a little more effort than that.

The tigers were in a flurry of activity. Rows of tents collapsed and faded into a sea of coats and boots, fires were stamped out and doused with water, and tigers streamed around Xain and Rasca’s group as they headed towards the imposing ship that Xain spotted in the distance. He couldn’t miss it. Had Rasca really built something like that? The sails alone were larger than any of the boats he’d ever seen. It was towering, rising far above his head and stretching out into the waves. It was so large that the tigers were using smaller boats just to get to the ladder that they’d climb onto the deck. It was an incredibly easy target for any sea monsters. And it was almost summer; it was so hot that Xain could sling his blanket and his coat over his shoulder without any issues. That made Xain relax – maybe they’d all just die long before they made it to the mountains.

Eksa was in her element. She talked with the leader, their fast conversation only broken by shipbuilders and sailors running up to her to ask questions. A nod of the head, pointing this way and that, and barking orders, and they all scattered away from her. It made sense. This ship was supposed to be her pride and joy – she’d gotten those notes translated, she’d helped put everything together. Based on how much adored ships, of course she’d want to see this one working. Another reason for Xain to feel fine if they all died.

The grass and dirt gave way to sand as Xain, Rasca, and the guards joined the heart of the crowd. Sand. Xain let out a deep breath as he sank a paw into the beach. It felt so warm and inviting, and he imagined laying down and watching the sun soar into the sky. It’d been a long, long time since he’d felt the sand seeping between his claws. Not since he’d been taken hostage. Not since he’d lived by the cliff with Rasca. Not since he’d lost his fishing rod. He turned his head back, trying to look over the throng of tigers as he tried to catch sight of anything that reminded him of his home. Nothing but the rolling plains and the ocean stretching into the horizon. And, with the nudge of a guard, he found himself making his way over to the sea.

The water lapped against his hindpaws. Cold, clear, soothing. If it wasn’t for the guards who were trying to herd him onto the rowboat, he would’ve loved to stay just a little longer. Instead, he was stuck towards the back with Rasca, watching Eksa and the leader chat it up at the front of the rowboat as the guards pushed the boat into the sea and jumped in. Eksa shot him a few furtive glances, as though waiting to see if he would try to do something. Not that he wanted to. The farther he got into the sea, the more of a chill he could feel going up his spine. This wasn’t safe. There were too many people on the boat; it was only a couple inches from the water line. And what about the monsters? Anything lurking by the boat would find this an easy target. He turned his head back to stare at the coast, but he could hardly make out the sand or the waterline with all the tigers in the area. Wonderful.

And yet, nothing attacked the rowboat. Not even when it made its way over to the ladder at the side of the ship and tiger after tiger slowly, carefully climbed their way up. Then it was Rasca’s turn. Which made sense – Rasca was more important. It also meant that the one person who could show him how to climb up a ladder couldn’t. A guard pushed Xain forward, almost causing him to trip over one of the boards stretched across the rowboat. A good start. Grabbing the rope ladder, Xain tried not to think about how much the rowboat was rocking, or how the ladder shook in the wind, or how high up the desk was, or how he swore he couldn’t almost see things in the ocean if he looked closely enough. Somehow, the few minutes that he spent making his way to the deck were almost as stressful as the months he’d spent in that tent. At least back then, he knew how he could die.

Still, Xain was able to scrabble his way over the top of the ladder. Rolling onto the deck, he flopped onto the floor and stared up at the sails, taking a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes and ignored how high up those sails were. He opened his eyes at the side of a tsk! noise to see the leader and Eksa glaring down at him. And the paw that Rasca held out. Grabbing onto it, Xain let Rasca pull him up. With a few last words between Eksa and the leader, Eksa slipped between the guards and made her way to the giant wheel towards the center of the ship, where a couple of tigers were standard. Xain wasn’t entirely sure what they were trying to do, but he didn’t have any time to ask; with the wave of his paw, the leader sent the group moving towards a flight of stairs leading into the ship.

Xain couldn’t describe the smell of the ship. Damp, maybe? Damp and crowded, what with the tigers beginning to make their way through the hallways or the rows of stretched-out canvas (that the tigers had set mattresses on?) that stretched deep into the ship. Hm. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d be able to handle sleeping with a bunch of mildly hostile tigers, but it was pretty obvious that he wouldn’t have to. The group passed by the mattresses entirely, instead stopping at a door towards the back of the ship. One of the guards pushed it open, the leader stepped out of the way, and the rest shoved Xain and Rasca into a small room.

One of the guards stepped between Xain and the door, then started translating for the leader. “Don’t even think about getting out of this room if you value your lives,” the leader said. “We’ll bring you out when we need you.”

More of the usual threats. Not that Xain had any reason to risk his life like that – there wasn’t anywhere he could run, and he wasn’t exactly a fan of this ship. Xain and Rasca nodded, and the door swung shut.

The room itself was simple. A single bed to Xain’s right, a table and a chair in front of Xain, and a pile of what looked like clothes stuffed in the corner. There weren’t any windows, which Xain was happy about. He wasn’t in the mood to see the sea.

“Sorry,” Rasca said, making his way across the room towards the clothes. He bent down and started rummaging through them. Shirts, coats, pants. Most of them a little too large or full of holes. Some random hand-me-downs from the tigers, apparently. That was more hospitality than Rasca had been expecting. “There is usually a window, but they probably did not have the glass.”

“I am okay with that,” said Xain, trying his best to sound disappointed. Walking over to the bed, he pressed his paw down on the mattress. Full of straw, just like the bed in his house. The bed that had been abandoned for months. Grabbing the blankets, Xain sighed. If he was lucky, he only had a few months to go before he was back there. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be around to worry about his old bed.

Xain looked over at Rasca, who was currently staring through a hole in a shirt he held in front of him. The fox’s tail twitched. “So, uh,” Rasca said, not taking his eyes away from the shirt. “It is just the two of us, stuck in this room, for however long before us they need.”

“How long would it take to get there?” Xain said, sitting down on the bed and setting his paws on his knees.

“A few weeks, at least,” said Rasca, throwing the shirt into the pile and staring down at it. “It took us a while to get as far as we did, and I do not exactly remember anything after that.”

“We do not need to do anything right now,” Xain said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the both of them. He scratched his side and yawned. “I know I am a little tired. It was not exactly easy sleeping against a post.”

Biting his lip, Rasca looked over at Xain. “I just,” the fox began, then sighed. “Part of me wants to spend the next couple weeks uh, spending time with you, because we can and I missed being able to do that, but it does not seem like a good use of time? I feel like we should be doing more, preparing, coming up with a plan.”

“There is not a lot we can do, right?” said Xain. “We have some idea of what the place looks like, who will be able to help us, and what we can do, but we do not know much more than that. We will have to figure it out when we get there. I do not think we will spend all of those few weeks coming up with a plan.”

Moving a little closer, Rasca paused.

Ah, that was it. With a sigh, Xain flopped onto the bed. “I know we have not done anything in a while,” he said. “I will not be mad at you while we, figure things out.”

“Can we just say sex?” said Rasca, pulling his paws down his face. “I am sorry for bringing it up, and I know how silly it sounds, but, I just, we spent the last few months trying not to get killed. And we said and did a lot of not great things, and I have no idea how to ease back into being a boyfriend again.”

Pulling himself up and pulling back the bedsheets, Xain sighed. “I, feel sort of similar,” he said. “I cannot say that I regret all the things that I did, though I hate how much that hurt you. But, we don’t have to be good at rebuilding things, do we?”

Rasca took another step forward. “I, guess not,” said Rasca. He chuckled. “Not that we have been good at anything about this so far.”

Sliding underneath the sheets, Xain raised a paw and gestured for Rasca to join him. “And we have a lot of time to figure this out,” said Xain. “We can at least try.”

After a couple seconds of hesitation, Rasca nodded. Slipping into the bedsheets, Rasca wrapped his arms around Xain and rested his head on Xain’s chest. “Thank you,” Rasca said. “Both for going along with plan, and for being here in general. I have never met anyone like you.”

Pulling the bedsheets over the both of them, Xain kissed Rasca’s forehead. “Thank you for making me feel a little less alone,” Xain said. “I do not know where I would be without you.”

“Probably not here,” Rasca said, laughing slightly.

“True,” said Xain. “But you would not either, and I do not think either of us would be happy.”

Rasca coughed. “I hope we can get out of this,” he said, voice shaky. “I do not know. I really do not know.”

“I do not know either,” said Xain, pulling Rasca closer. “We owe it to ourselves to try.”

Well, Xain understood what Rasca meant by the whole seasick thing.

Xain had chalked it up to anxiety at first. He’d never been fond of the deep sea, and here was, in the middle of it. Every strange noise or howl of the wind or crash of the boat against the waves had sent chills down his spine. After the first couple times he’d thrown up, however, he’d realized there was something else at play. The smell of the sea, the salt, the wood, had grossed him out. The way the ship tossed and turned had bothered him. It had felt like he couldn’t stay still. He couldn’t even walk across the room without feeling like he was going in the wrong direction. Everything had felt out of place.

Poor Rasca; he’d had to tolerate cleaning up after Xain, and had spent much of the time sleeping on the floor while Xain had spent hours and hours in bed. Not exactly the best start to their time together. Still, it was only a week or two before Xain started to get the hang of the ship. He found himself adjusting to the way it rocked; the obnoxious smells faded into the background; and Xain gradually changed his opinion about the sea. Sure, it was more than capable of killing everyone. But, even as spring gave way to summer (at least, as far as Xain was aware – it was hard to tell day from night in here, dark as it was), the ship still sailed. He could hear shouting, the sounds of fighting, but whatever it was never lasted that long. Xain didn’t spend all his time waiting for everyone to die. Which filled him with a new form of concern; they were getting closer to the mountains.

For the most part, the tigers left them alone. They’d throw food into the room three times a day – usually scraps and gruel – and, whenever either of them knocked on the door for long enough, bring Xain and Rasca to go to the bathroom. Not that Xain wanted to be on deck at all, much less for that reason, but at least he didn’t spend all his time in that room. Better yet, he didn’t run into anyone he recognized. The leader left him alone; he hadn’t seen Kisan at all; and he could catch the occasional glimpse from Eksa, but she left him alone. It made his life a little more tolerable.

Rasca and Xain had nothing better to do than learn each other’s languages. They hadn’t quite gotten the hang of contractions – they’d wanted to go for the words themselves before trying to shorten them – and still slipped up on occasion. A couple months barely having a conversation had also made them both a tad rusty. So they would spend the hours talking to each other about whatever crossed their minds. Xain usually settled on childhood stories, while Rasca would talk about the lakes and forests of his home country. If it weren’t for the people, Xain would’ve loved to go there. He’d only seen a couple trees in his life, and certainly not any lakes. The idea of forests stretched to the horizons, lakes that you could drink from, places to wander and places to be, almost felt scary. It seemed like it’d be an easy place to get lost in. Rasca seemed to think the same about the plains, the cliffs, farmers and traders, and Xain’s (usually) quiet world. That is, when Rasca wasn’t busy laughing at Xain and his siblings’ antics (which Xain appreciated).

Eventually, they understood each other almost perfectly. Keeping their voices low so that nobody would know Rasca could speak Xain’s language, they practiced long words, difficult words, pauses, odd sounds, more complicated sentences. Xain had never quite realized how strange picking up a language was until he realized he was switching between his and Rasca’s. They blended together, enough that Xain had to stop himself from using one language or another when he was trying to explain a word to Rasca. It was also strange how one language had words that the other didn’t. Xain found himself picking up words from Rasca’s tongue and using them to describe, say, the way the horizon curved, or the positions of the stars, or sailing. Rasca would use some of Xain’s words to describe traders, the soil, or sea monsters. At some point, it felt like they’d ditched individual languages altogether. It was their language now, a mashup of words, phrases, and sentences as they figured out what fit best and what didn’t. Xain had never known language could be so personal. But, of course, when the tigers showed up, Xain had to switch back to pretending he didn’t entirely understand Rasca. Back to one language. Somehow, he hated that almost as much as being confined.

When Rasca and Xain weren’t talking, they were tangled up in the bedsheets. It was a way to spend time, even if they spent a lot of time afraid of getting caught. Xain’s parents had explained the birds and the bees to him, but he hadn’t quite gotten it until recently. It also wasn’t all that applicable, since it wasn’t like him or Rasca were going to have kids. Fortunately, Rasca had been told about as much, so they were on a level playing field. After a bit of fumbling and cursing and sticking things in the wrong places, though, they’d eventually gotten the hang of it. But Xain enjoyed cuddling just as much, as well as seeing Rasca sleeping comfortably in bed, and the faces that Rasca made when Xain rubbed his shoulders. The best part about sex wasn’t even the sex itself – for the first time in his life, Xain felt like he could be intimate with someone, and that someone would be intimate back. All their shared moments and feelings helped make up for the dreary room and being stuck in the middle of the sea.

Rasca was still determined to go home. Xain brought up the topic from time to time, particularly when they were trying to figure out if they could plan out anything more, but Rasca wouldn’t budge. Which Xain wouldn’t blame Rasca for, if Rasca genuinely wanted to go home. But there was all the pauses in Rasca’s sentences, his quiet voice, the way he sounded a little less wistful about his country and a little more like he’d seen everything he’d wanted to see. Still, Rasca wanted to be the discoverer, the adventurer, the hero. Xain didn’t know what it would take for Rasca to change his mind.

There was another kind of tension in the air, though. Over the last couple of days, the tigers had sounded increasingly tense. Xain could hear snippets of conversations through the walls and when he was brought onto the deck. He only understood a couple words and phrases in the tiger language, but he could guess a lot more from their tones of voice and talking. The tigers spoke quickly in the first place, but this was a little ridiculous. Sometimes, Xain could see a couple tigers standing at the edge of the deck and staring out at into the distance. Always the same direction, even though there wasn’t anything that Xain could see. They acted like they were waiting for something. Xain had no idea what; when Eksa or the leader bothered to talk to him at all, it wasn’t something they brought up. They flinched whenever he mentioned the tigers acting up, but Eksa only said that it didn’t concern Xain. She didn’t even throw a slur or two in there either, which was surprising. It was almost like she didn’t hold him in contempt anymore. Frankly, having her respect disgusted him. He didn’t trust anyone whose respect he had to earn.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Xain heard a pounding at the door one day. Rubbing his eyes, Xain pulled himself up into a sitting position. Wrapped in blankets, Rasca snored and mumbled something about a dream he was having. Smiling, Xain reached down to scratched Rasca’s chin, only to pause. The tigers never knocked. Either they threw food in or waited for either Xain or Rasca to knock. At the moment, Xain was a little relieved they’d put their clothes back on. The scratch turned into gently patting Rasca’s head as Xain got off the bed, with the knocking ground louder.

It took a few seconds, but Rasca fell silent. “Hm?” Rasca said, his eyes opening as he turned his head over to Xain.

“Something’s happening,” Xain said, reaching the door. Before he could open it, however, the tigers did. Xain stepped back quickly as a couple tigers stepped into the room. The one closest to Xain pointed to him and Rasca, then gestured to the hallway outside. Another tiger took a couple sniffs, stared at the bed, and decided to stand out in the hallway. Which Xain couldn’t exactly blame them for.

Out of fear, embarrassment, or both, Rasca threw off the bedsheets and ran over to Xain. They followed the tigers into the hallway, where they found themselves surrounded. All of them looked anxious. Xain tried to tap one tiger’s shoulder, tried to ask another tiger what was going on, but it was obvious that none of them understood him. Or they weren’t quite in the mood for talking. A pit settled in Xain’s stomach as he was led across the ship, particularly when he saw the stream of sailors and warriors in front of them, everyone making their way up the stairs and onto the deck.

Walking into the sunlight, Xain couldn’t catch sight of the leader or Eksa. He figured out why pretty soon, thanks to the tigers who were currently climbing their way down the side of the ship. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Worse yet, everyone moved quickly, adjusting sails and checking to see that the anchor had been dropped. A couple tigers jabbed Xain in the back as they lead him and Rasca to the edge of the ship, which didn’t make Xain feel any better about gripping the rope ladder and making his way down to the water.

Somehow, going down was even worse than going up had been. Maybe it was because Xain had to look down, had to see how far he was from the water, had to be reminded that he was in the ocean. It was also just breezy enough that he could feel the ladder swaying, and there was a point or two where he couldn’t quite get a paw to touch the rope. The only bright side was that Xain could see Rasca below. Rasca climbed down the ladder quickly and confidently, and Xain had the ability to copy him. Granted, Xain more fell into the boat than stepped into it like Rasca did, but Xain felt a little more confident about his ability to use the ladder next time. If there was going to be a next time.

Without hesitation, the tigers on the boat began to steer it away from the ship, causing Xain to trip and fall onto the floor of the boat. Rasca kneeled down and reached out a paw for Xain to grab, but, as Xain pulled himself up, he noticed that Rasca wasn’t looking at him. Getting onto his knees and turning his head back, Xain caught sight of where they were going. The shore of an island stretched out in front of them, a sandy beach covered in rocks that gave way to a thick forest. Xain swore he could see what looked like rocks poking out of the forest far in the distance, but it was hard to tell with the boat shaking as much as it was. Sitting down beside Rasca, Xain held his paw and stared at the island as it grew larger and larger, the sea turned shallow enough that Xain could reach down and run his paw through the sand (he did – the water was lukewarm, almost tolerable), and the boat ran into a sandbar.

The tigers got to work, jumping into the water and grabbing the sides of the boat. Two grabbed Xain and Rasca by their shoulders, pulling them off and setting them down into the water. Ignoring the way his fur stood up, Xain took the hint and began to walk over to the beach, Rasca in tow. Poor Rasca – at least Xain didn’t have to worry about wearing boots. Making it to the shore, Xain shook his legs and took a few deep breaths, while Rasca pulled off his boots and dumped their contents onto the sand. That was about all the respite they had – the tigers drove the boat into the beach, then surrounded Xain and Rasca once again.

Xain couldn’t even enjoy the nostalgia of his paws in warm sand for very long. At this point, most of the tigers had gathered by the shore. Their heads turned as the leader emerged from a path that had been cut into the green undergrowth, face grim as he, Eksa, and a couple guards stopped in front of the group. With a gesture from the leader, the rest followed. Xain and Rasca kept holding paws as they were corralled into the back of the group, sand and rocks giving way to dirt and shrubs. Trying his best to pick out any familiar words between the hushed conversations with the tigers, Xain was out of luck. He got the sense that there was something up ahead, and the leader was trying to do something about it, but he didn’t need words to figure that out.

Was this that forest that Rasca had talked about? Xain had never seen so many trees in one place. They blanketed the space around him, masking everything with leaves and vines and the other plants that grew off them. Various shades of green, blue, and red added a color and life that joined the buzzing of insects and bird calls. It almost gave Xain claustrophobia, and everyone being crowded into groups of three didn’t help. The tiger standing next to Xain and Rasca didn’t pay any attention to them, instead staring out into the forest like something could pop out at any moment. The tiger held their spear close, and Xain could almost swear they were trembling. Which Xain understood.

Eventually, the path gave way to a clearing. Not exactly a natural clearing, either. Xain could see the marks on the plants and shrubs that the tigers had cut down to make space for whatever this was. It was at this point that Xain realized he could see what looked like mountains in the distance. Or, they were a little too short for mountains, based on what he remembered being told, but they definitely towered over their surroundings. If he looked closely enough, he swore he could see the outlines of a couple caves, but he had no idea if his eyes were playing tricks on him. As he looked around, he realized he had other things to worry about.

The clearing was littered with bones. Xain picked out what looked like the skulls of tigers, as well as his own species. Some tigers kicked them aside, stomped on them and jumped, generally did everything but go near them them. Willing himself to look away from the ground, Xain stared ahead and tried not to think. He hated skulls. He hated skeletons. He’d only seen a couple in his life. And that was enough for him. There was a difference between knowing what death was and what happened to your body after you died, and knowing that a skull had once belonged to someone whose face you’d recognized. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t a good direction to look. He could either look down and see skeletons, look up and see the mountains in the distance, or look ahead to see the tigers forming a semicircle around someone who looked like him, arms and legs bound to rocks.

Swearing in a tongue that Xain understood, she tugged the ropes that held her in place to no effect. She had the woven shorts and shirt of a villager – maybe someone from his village? No, he couldn’t quite recognize her. Not that he had a good view, but he’d been in the village long enough that he was familiar with just about everyone who lived in it. It’d been hard not to get to know everyone, given how many of the houses and buildings had been connected to each other. There was always the possibility that she was an outsider who’d moved in, like Sive, but Sive was more of a unique case. At the very least, it didn’t seem like she lived nearby, since she had an accent that Xain had ever heard before, much less entirely understand. And he realized he was rationalizing the fact that the tigers had tied up someone to die in the same way that all the others had.

The group fell silent, watching the captive as she craned her head back and screamed at them. Nothing happened. Xain waited with baited breath for something to pop out of the woods, something to come down from the mountains, something. Nothing but the whistle of the wind as it began to pick up and blow against Xain’s fur, sending shivers down his spine. It took him a few seconds to realize that he didn’t feel cold. Even the wind was warm in a place like this. No, it was because he was about to do something very dangerous.

Fortunately, he got the opening he needed. A shout rang out in the crowd of tigers. Xain swore he could see Kisan stumble through the half-circle and fall into the grass. Either way, nobody was paying attention to him; all the tigers’ heads were turned to whatever the commotion was. Xain immediately crouched down, took a deep breath, and tried to charge his way between a couple of the guards. However, even if he had the element of surprise, he didn’t have either the strength, size, or the dexterity to get away with slipping through the crowd. The eyes of the guards shot down towards him, and one of them reached a paw out to grab him by the fur on his neck and drag him back.

Growling and trying to grab the guard’s arm, Xain noticed a red blur streak by, slipping between tigers. The guard dragged Xain back and a couple of the others crowded around him, keeping him in place. However, they couldn’t stop Rasca, who happened to be a little too small and fast for them. Not to mention the number of tigers who were on edge because of whatever was going on – some of them screamed and jumped back as Rasca passed by. Xain barely had enough time to wonder what Rasca was doing, why Rasca was being so reckless, and why the two of them had actually had the same idea for once, when Rasca broke through the crowd and made a beeline towards the captive. Kisan, who’d already pulled himself up and was currently trying to make his way back into the group, turned around and started to run after Rasca, but was too late. A burst of wind flew down from the mountains, causing the trees to whip back and almost knocking Rasca to the ground. The captive fell silent, starting to twitch and shake as the wind died down. With a growl, the fox pulled himself up, reached out a paw, and touched the captive’s shoulder.

Rasca and the captive screamed, then collapsed. The fox flopped onto the ground, while the captive’s head jerked to the side as she slumped forward, the ropes keeping her from falling over. The wind died. The clearing was silent. Rows and rows of tigers stared at Rasca and the would-be sacrifice. And Xain, breathless, mouth agape, was left to wonder what had happened to his boyfriend.

After a minute, the leader regained his composure. He shouted an order to Kisan, who stood closer to Rasca than anyone else did. After a brief back and forth between the leader and a less than eager Kisan, the latter slowly walked over to Rasca and the captive, glancing around like he was waiting for something to jump out at him. Crouching beside Rasca, Kisan held a couple claws against Rasca’s neck and waited. Whatever Kisan said was enough for the entire crowd to react. Tigers shouted at each other, some already taking the opportunity to run down the path towards the ship. The leader’s orders could barely be heard above the din, but it wasn’t long before the guards began to move Xain away from the clearing. Xain only had a couple glances to get a sense of what was going on, but he could see some of the tigers making their way to Rasca and the captive. As far as he could tell, the leader wanted to take them away.

Which meant they were fine, right? They had to be fine. All the other bodies had been left here. Well, maybe not exactly fine. They weren’t dead, at the least. Xain had no idea what was going on, and nobody was keen on telling him.

The next few minutes were a blur. Xain felt like he couldn’t look at anything without it falling out of focus. The trees and sand and waves blended together; the pounding of his heart drowned out the yelling from the tigers or the cries of the birds; he couldn’t even smell Rasca, thanks to the smells of salt from the ocean and the sweat of the tigers. He tried his best to struggle, push back against the guards, cry out and hear Rasca’s response, but the tigers carried him over to the boat and threw him down. Xain tried to call out Rasca’s name once or twice more, but he could barely hear himself over the din. In the meantime, the tigers moved frantically, shoving the boat into the sea and scrambling onboard, a couple of them managing to land on one of Xain’s legs. He barely noticed the pain. He was busy staring at the shoreline and the fleeing tigers, trying to catch sight of Rasca. Xain couldn’t see him. It didn’t help that whatever order there’d been had completely fallen apart. If Rasca had made it onto the shore at all, he was probably surrounded in the throng of tigers that was stumbling over each other to get away.

It really was easier for Xain to make his way back up the ladder. He was so distracted that he hardly noticed he was most of the way up to the deck before a gust of wind reminded him where he was. Trying hard not to throw up, he willed himself to give up his death grip on the rope and haul himself onto the deck. Unfortunately, his attempt to turn back and try to find Rasca was cut short by a tiger almost falling on top of him. Jumping back, Xain found himself in the arms of yet another tiger, who quickly wheeled around and began pushing him towards the stairs. Nope. Until he knew Rasca was fine, there was no way he was going into the ship.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly strong enough to break free from a tiger’s grip. Or multiple – he found himself surrounded by guards, who half-dragged, half-marched him down the stairs and escorted him past the hallways and rooms beneath the ship’s deck, keeping ahead of the wall of tigers who were trying their best to get the ship sailing. Heart racing and lungs gasping for air, Xain tried to look over his shoulder and catch sight of Rasca. Nothing. Xain started to cry the moment he realized the guards weren’t taking him back to his room. They walked right past it, leading Xain farther back into the ship.

They stopped at the very end of the ship, with one tiger opening a door and another pushing Xain inside. Stumbling into a dark room, Xain whirled around and made for the door, but the tigers slammed it shut before he could reach it. He slammed his paws against the door, falling to his knees as tears streamed down his face. Why had Rasca put himself in danger like that? Was it because of Xain? Was this his own fault? Had he given Rasca the idea to get in harm’s way? Even if they were going to sacrifice someone, Rasca should have stepped out of the way and let Xain try and stop them. That would’ve been a little easier to rationalize. Xain would’ve just been risking himself. And now, here Xain was, alone, not sure what had happened to his boyfriend.

Xain didn’t know how much time had passed before he turned his head. Throat parched, eyes red, face feeling dry, he looked at the room around him. Pretty much the same room that they had thrown him and Rasca in. Pulling himself up slowly, he struggled to walk as pins and needles shot up his legs. Which reminded him of the time he’d gotten strung. Which reminded him of how Rasca had taken care of him. Which reminded him of how much he’d frustrated Rasca. Yanking the bedsheets back, Xain threw himself onto bed and wrapped himself up. Bunching the blankets together so he could pretend he was holding onto Rasca, Xain stared at the wall. He was too tired to sleep.

“She’s a good mom, y’know?” Kisan slurred, sitting in the corner of the room. “Wanted me to, wanted me to kill that thing. Y’know.”

Lying in bed with a pillow over his face, Xain tried to ignore Kisan’s rambling. At least Kisan wasn’t trying to beat him up. If only because Kisan was too drunk to do anything other than talk. For some reason, the tigers had decided it’d be a good idea to make Kisan watch over Xain. Maybe because they got tired of Kisan sitting around and moping and decided it’d be a good idea to foist him into the person who’d already made an attempt or two to break out of his room. And Xain really wasn’t tempted to, if only because Kisan was lying at the corner by the door.

Naturally, Kisan wasn’t all that helpful. Xain had spent the past several days agonizing over what had happened on that island – which was now far in the distance – and whether or not Rasca was alright. Kisan was more concerned about his mom had shoved him towards the captive, and whether or not that meant his mom had been trying to kill him, and what that said about his mom, and how she actually a good mom and this had all been her way of showing it, and other stuff that Xain didn’t really care about. Was she trying to kill him? Yes, she hated his guts. He was honestly impressed that she even made the attempt to do it. And he wouldn’t had a lot more sympathy for Kisan if the tiger hadn’t spent several months putting Xain through hell. Right now, Xain almost wanted Kisan to shut up and beat him up. But, as Kisan had explained over and over again, they’d told him not to lay a claw on Xain. Xain was too important.

That didn’t exactly reassure Xain. It was hard enough getting any kind of information out of Kisan. Xain knew that something bad had been on that island, and that something liked to kill things, but Rasca had done something to mess that up. Kisan had no idea where Rasca was or what state Rasca was in. Which, granted, Xain could see why nobody was interested in keeping Kisan in the loop. And Xain could probably guess why he was so important now. If something happened to Rasca, Xain was a failsafe. A terrible failsafe they could probably kill off without any huge consequences, but a failsafe.

“And maybe I pissed her off one or two times,” Kisan went on, tipping his head up to stare at the ceiling. “Between my friends and getting into fights and bringing her with me and chopping off a few heads. But what kind of kid doesn’t do that? She knows the deal. I don’t think she’s got anything against me. Do you think she’s got anything against me?”

“Nah,” said Xain, pulling the pillow off his face to talk.

“See, you get it,” Kisan said. “She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. And maybe she didn’t even mean anything by it. Maybe she was stressed. Maybe she figured I’d protect her. Which I would, because I’m a good son. I’m a good son, aren’t I?”

Xain quietly screamed into his pillow, then pulled it off. “Sure,” Xain said.

“That’s it,” said Kisan. “She was just stressed. And she hasn’t been talking to me because she’s embarrassed, obviously. I should talk to her. I haven’t seen her around lately, but I know she’s somewhere. And we can just talk things out, and she can thank me for doing a good job, and I can thank her for helping me get the respect of the leader. He hasn’t been talking to me either, but I know he thinks I did a good job. I was the first one to get close. I put my life on the line.”

A knock at the door cut Kisan off. Jolted, Xain pulled himself up to see Kisan scooting out of the way as the door swung open. In came Eksa, looking a little worse for wear. Between her scowl, her twitching eyes, and the way she almost stumbled to the middle of the room, Xain wondered if Eksa had been sleeping lately. That didn’t fill him with confidence.

“Get out,” she growled, turning her head to look at Kisan.

“Why?” Kisan slurred. He pulled himself up slowly, clinging to the wall.

“Because I said so,” said Eksa. “Get. Out.”

Kisan stuck his tongue out at her. That seemed a little pathetic for a warrior, but nothing about Kisan was particularly impressive. “It’s my job to keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, and you’re doing a great job,” Eksa said, grabbing him by the arm and yanking it. That moved him a little closer to the door, but it was obvious who could push around who. “Give me a little bit, and then you can keep doing it.”

“I’m doing a good job?” Kisan said, voice perking up.

Eksa sighed. “Yes,” she said. “You’re doing great. Now go.”

With a nod, Kisan walked outside, mumbling “I’m doing a good job” to himself. His bootsteps faded into the background noise of sailors and ocean waves.

“What an a**hole,” Eksa said, rolling her eyes as she turned around to close the door.

He agreed, but he didn’t want to say it. “What do you want?” said Xain, glaring at Eksa.

“I don’t want anything,” said Eksa. “I’m here to explain things.”

Well, she’d certainly taken her sweet time. “Alright,” Xain said, spreading his arms. “Explain things. What happened? Is Rasca alright? Why are you keeping us apart?”

Eksa raised a claw. “What happened,” she said, “Is that there is some kind of creature living on that island. A ghost, or a spirit, or whatever. It kills whatever it comes into contact with. We’d really like to avoid dealing with it, but it turns out that island is much easier to get to than any of the others. So we figured out that if we sacrifice something to it, it goes away. And that was what we were supposed to be doing, but Rasca had to go in and fuck it up. Which figures.”

A second claw. “Rasca is fine. We don’t know why – maybe it has something to do with him messing up the sacrifice. The guards are telling us that they can hear the captive talking to him.” A third claw. “And because this has never happened before, we’re waiting to see if anything does happen. That’s why we’re keeping you apart. That’s why we’re also keeping ourselves apart from them. I’m not a big fan of superstition, but it’s hard not to think that there might be a curse going on.”

“Why are you even telling me?” said Xain, shoulders sagging and body relaxing. Rasca was alive. Maybe not alright, but there was a chance that that they could see each other again. Xain would cry, if it wasn’t for Eksa and Kisan.

Eksa grit her teeth, then took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s because, for some reason, I kind of respect you,” she said.

Xain snorted. “I feel very respected,” he said. “It only took you a few days to take time out of your busy schedule and talk to me.”

“I know you don’t have any reason to like me,” Eksa said, voice low, “But yes, I do respect you. You genuinely led me along for a while there. Played with every assumption I’d ever made about you and turned that against me. I’ve never had someone wrap me around their claw like that. Yes, I’m banking everything on this ship. Yes, I’m sure you’re hoping this whole expedition fails. But I think we have something in common – we both want Rasca to stay alive. So I figured I would tell you. I don’t expect a thanks from you.”

After a pause, Xain said, “Let me know if anything else happens.”

Eksa nodded. “For what it’s worth,” she said, “I know they’re going to try to kill you the moment you’re not useful anymore. But I can try to persuade them to do something different. Maybe keep you around. You could be pretty useful in the right situation.”

“I will not be your slave,” said Xain. “I will not be anyone’s slave. I’m only doing this because I feel like there’s a good chance we’ll be in the bottom of the sea. Do what you want. I’ll do what I want.”

“Fine,” Eksa said, turning around. “I suspected you would say that. Unfortunate, but it’s out of my paws.” She took a couple steps before Xain remembered that she’d likely pull Kisan back into the room.

“If you want to do something,” Xain said, waiting for Eksa to turn her head back before continuing, “you could find somebody else to guard this room. I’m not exactly interested in listening to Kisan.”

Eksa rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I have the power to do that,” she said. “Besides, everyone on the ship is a lot happier now that he’s not moping around as much anymore. And he hasn’t done anything, has he?”

Shaking his head, Xain said, “Mostly just annoying me.”

The tiger threw her paws up. “So no, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” she said. “Speaking of which, let me get him.” Opening the door, she peered down the hallway. With a grimace and something muttered under her breath, Eksa reached out to pull in Kisan, who was currently snoring. She grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly dragged him to the corner of the room, swearing as she struggled to lift his head above the ground, much less move him. Leaving him slumped against the wall, she waved a paw at Xain and quickly left the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Or, relative peace and quiet. Staring up at the ceiling, Xain listened to the ocean, to the hustle and bustle of tigers, to Kisan chuckling over something he was probably dreaming about. They blended together and faded into a dull roar in the background. He was fine, but he was alone. There was no one who would listen to him. There was no one he could hold on to, in spite of the pain and suffering that had been the last few months. As the seconds (or minutes or hours – he couldn’t tell in this dark room) slipped by, he stopped thinking about Rasca. He stopped thinking about anything. It was just him, Kisan, and this room. As far as he knew, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Maybe it was better that way.

Boom!

Xain’s eyes shot open. What was that? Was that his dream? No, it couldn’t have been his dream. He’d just been walking across the ice by the cove next to his home. He hadn’t heard any cracks, saw the ice give way under him, felt the cold water. And he’d heard ice break enough times that he knew it didn’t sound anything like what he’d just woken up to.

Boom! Boom boom boom!

The ship rocked and groaned, almost throwing Xain off the bed in the process. Hearing the shouts of sailors and the screeching of a monster, Xain’s heart doubled in pace; he felt his paws shaking and his teeth clattering as he tried to yank his bedsheets off. Fortunately, thanks to the movement of the boat, they’d already partly fallen onto the floor, so he was able to throw them aside and plant his hindpaws on the boat floor. When he pulled himself up, however, the rocking of the boat almost sent him crashing to the ground. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, seasickness, or some combination of those two, but it was hard not to throw up as he tried to make his way towards the door. Every single step felt wrong. He was leaning to the right, he was about to hit the floor, he was going to fall backwards, he’d just stepped on Kisan’s boot, he’d-

“What are you doing?” Kisan said, grabbing onto Xain’s shoulder. The tiger, one paw firmly on the door, sounded more irritated than usual. Maybe Kisan was a little hungover. Which Xain could hopefully exploit.

“Getting out of here,” said Xain, reaching a paw out towards the door.

Kisan let go of Xain’s shoulder to grab that paw. “Nope,” said Kisan. “You’re staying right here. There’s nothing we can do out there – I can’t stab anything in the sea, and I’m pretty sure they don’t want you on deck. Let the others do their jobs.”

Xain scowled. “It’s not safe in here,” he said, struggling to grab onto the door.

“This is the safest place we can be in,” Kisan said. “The monster’s focusing on the deck and on the cannons.”

“Cannons?” said Xain. “And what if the ship sinks?”

“Then we’ll die anyway,” said Kisan. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. What do you think is going to happen?” Keeping a firm grip on the door as the ship rocked again, Kisan went on. “Again, there’s nothing we can do. Whatever happens, happens.”

As the ship began to rock again, Xain said, “Who said I was doing anything?” Xain took the opportunity to punch Kisan in the gut, then pivoted to the side in an attempt to force Kisan to tumble. It worked like a charm; with the ship leaning away from the door, Kisan crumpled to the ground, letting go of Xain’s shoulder to clutch his own stomach. Biting Kisan’s arm to make it easier to yank it away from the door, Xain then pulled the door back far enough for him to squeeze through.

“A**hole, what are you doing?” Kisan screamed, throwing a paw out as Xain entered the hallway. Xain’s heart almost stopped as he felt Kisan’s claws fly through his fails. Fortunately, with the ship no longer rocking, Kisan flopped to the floor. Slipping his tails into the hallway, Xain slammed the door behind him and sprinted towards the commotion.

Well, now Xain had a better sense of what those cannons were. It was hard to make anything out, what with it being below decks and the middle of the night, but Xain could pick out the smells of metal and gunpowder. The gunpowder was especially easy to recognize, even though he hadn’t seen it in years – it was overpowering, almost suffocating. And that smell wafted from the enormous metal contraptions stretching along the middle of the ship, which boomed and let off a flash of light every time a torch was held near them. He wanted to get as far away from those things as possible.

Xain ran his way between the rows of cannons, covering his ears as he tried to weave his way through the throng of tigers. As he’d hoped, none of them paid him any attention. Which also meant that it was much easier to run into any tigers running to and from different cannons, carrying gunpowder or metal balls. The stench of sweat, smoke, and metal didn’t help any; the roar of the cannons and shaking of the ship almost threw him to the floor a few times. His ears rang, his mouth dried up, ash and powder landed on his skin, and tears streamed down his face. And he almost didn’t notice when he spotted the outlines of tentacles against the moonlit sky in the windows where the cannons hadn’t fired yet (or had stopped working, based on the tigers cursing and kicking at them).

He paused briefly on the other side of the cannons, setting his paws on knees and taking a few deep breaths. What was that? That couldn’t have been the monster that he’d fought earlier, could it? They weren’t that persistent. Well, between the gunshot and the fight, there was the possibility that the monster had been out for blood. And Xain, sitting in the middle of the ocean with a crew on a boat they weren’t familiar with, was now the perfect target. That still didn’t explain why the monster waited for several months, following Xain up north and into the sea, or why the monster had decided now was the best time to attack. It helped that monsters as big as that one tended to move into the sea, and it was possible that there was a lot of prey in this part of the ocean. If this was the same monster, maybe this was a terrible coincidence. Worst case scenario, it was almost like the monster could think, and it wanted revenge. Which Xain really didn’t want to think about.

“The translator’s run off somewhere! Find him!”

And he didn’t have to. After hearing Kisan’s scream, Xain made a break for it, running between rows of doors. With most of the crew busy fighting the monster, Xain didn’t have much in his way. The tigers he sped past looked a little surprised and confused, but none of them reacted quickly enough to stop him. But, with a quick growl from Kisan, the number of tigers following Xain grew and grew.

Xain’s heart sank when he saw the couple guards still stationed outside of Rasca’s door. Of course they would still be guarding him, even in the middle of a monster attack. Was he just that dangerous to them? Still, maybe there was a chance Xain could get past them and open the door. He just needed to see Rasca’s face, even if only for a moment. When the first guard took a couple steps forward, arms in front of them, Xain saw an opportunity. He ran straight for the first guard, causing that guard to hesitate. That was enough for Xain to duck under the first guard and dive for the door. The second guard threw out an arm and moved to block the door, but Xain grabbed onto the arm and threw it up. And Xain had made it. There was the door, right in front of him. He was so close.

And then he felt a paw grabbing onto his shirt. And another paw on his shoulder. Xain struggled to break free as the two guards closed around him, trying to use his spare arm to open the door. When the first guard grabbed onto that arm and yanked it back, Xain tried to stomp on the guards boots. At that moment, he wished he had boots of his own. Unaffected, the first guard wrapped his arms around Xain and lifted him into the air. Xain struggled and tried to hit the guard as he was spun around to look at Kisan and the other tigers.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?” Kisan yelled, gesturing for the guard holding Xain to move away from the door.

“It doesn’t matter if we all die anyway!” Xain shouted back. He aimed a kick at the first guard that was effective enough to cause the guard to take a step back, particularly with the ship shaking. Unfortunately, the second guard took the opportunity to grab onto Xain’s legs, while a third reached for Xain’s arms. In a few seconds, he was out of options.

Kisan crossed his arms. “We’re fine. They know what they’re doing. You don’t.”

His paws started to heat up as Xain tried to conjure flames. “Yeah?” said Xain. “Try me.”

With a scowl, Kisan said, “Do you really want to set everyone on fire? Over nothing? They stopped shooting the cannons a minute ago.”

Xain paused, the fire fading away. He hadn’t noticed, thanks to the way his ears had been ringing the last couple of minutes, but the ship had gotten strangely quiet. The roar of the cannons had been replaced by the sound of the ship making its way through waves. The searing smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, but, as far as Xain could tell, none of the cannons were firing.

“Sounds like it was a direct hit,” Kisan said. “Looks like we don’t have a monster problem anymore. So, how about you don’t burn this ship?”

Gritting his teeth, Xain felt the warmth fade away from his paws. As nice as it would be to see this ship at the bottom of the ocean, the odds weren’t looking great for Xain. If he had enough magic to set anything on fire, he wasn’t sure he could get to Rasca without burning himself to death, blocking himself from the door, or dying from exhaustion. That didn’t stop him from trying to struggle as the tigers dragged him back to his own room, but he didn’t put much effort into it. Beyond a few attempts at kicks or punches, his heart wasn’t in it. This ship was still sailing, and he couldn’t be with Rasca.

“You’ll see him when were sure he’s not a threat,” said Kisan as the tigers opened the door and threw Xain into the room. Xain landed in a heap on the floor, but ignored the pain in his wrists as he flipped over to glare up at Kisan. Kisan, for his part, walked into the room and closed the door, plunging the room into darkness. “After tonight, who knows how long that’ll be.”

Pulling himself up, Xain glared at Kisan. “I liked it better when you were a drunken mess crying for your mom,” he said.

Kisan growled. “Don’t talk s*** about my mom,” he said. “And they took away my alcohol, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.” In the dim light, Xain could see Kisan move over to the door, lower himself to the floor, and cross his arms and legs. “Go to sleep.”

Hm. Xain had the feeling Kisan wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon. It’d be much harder to overpower Kisan with the sea having settled down, to say nothing of getting past all the tigers who weren’t confined to the cannons anymore. Xain made a point of standing and glaring at Kisan for a few more minutes, but it wasn’t long before he found himself exhausted. Head drooping, limbs weak, and thoughts fuzzy, Xain fell asleep almost as soon as he slipped into the bedsheets and rested his head against the pillow.

“Who’s on those islands?” Xain said. He sat at the edge of the bed, his arms sinking into the mattress as he leaned back.

“Wolves,” said Eksa, standing in front of him. “Have you seriously never seen a wolf before?”

Xain frowned, taking a minute to think. “I’ve heard of them before,” he finally said. “Once or twice, from some of the traders who came by my town.” The frown turned into a scowl as he looked over at Eksa. “And given what happened to my town, I think I can guess what happened to the wolves.”

Crossing her arms, Eksa rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. “You don’t have anything in common with those wolves. They could rip your head off if they wanted to. That’s why we took care of them – they’d been a thorn in our side for a very long time. Once we were big enough to pick a fight with them, we did.”

“And shipped all of them to that island,” said Xain.

“Not all of them,” Eksa said. “Just the dangerous ones.”

Xain leaned forward, setting his paws on his knees. “And kept the others as slaves?”

A small pause. “Don’t think you can work with them,” said Eksa. “They’re hostile, violent, and I’m pretty sure they’re not going to trust someone they can’t talk to. Especially when that someone has been on a ship full of tigers. Besides, even if you did pull that off, you and Rasca would be stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. An island that, with a big enough army, we could invade.”

That was a fair point. It did put a damper on his plans if this was, at best, a temporary solution to the problem (unless they died during the escape or on the island, but Xain wasn’t planning on dying until they’d run out of options). “So, what do you want me to do?” said Xain. “Why even bother telling me at all? Can’t you just avoid that island?”

“That would be nice,” said Eksa, “But we’re not exactly fans of sailing around in open sea, for reasons you’re well aware of. There happens to be a couple islands beyond the wolves’ island that we like to get supplies from. It’s a fort that we normally use to keep an eye on the wolves, and it happens to be one of the last islands that we’ll see before we make our way to the mountains. So, yes, we have to deal with the wolves.”

He felt like he knew where this was going, but Xain decided to ask anyways. “And that’s where I come in?” he said.

“If the wolves attack,” Eksa said, “They might be more than a little interested in a couple of non-tigers in a room that is well-guarded and separated from the rest of the ship. It’s possible that they’ll try to take hostages, and you know magic. So, if you have to light their a**es on fire, you’ve got permission to do that.”

“So happy to know I have permission,” said Xain.

Eksa scowled. “Are you going to help or not?” she said.

“Yes,” Xain said. “I’ll help. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to need my help, but I want to keep Rasca safe.”

Eksa nodded. “We’re planning on sailing through the rest of the night,” she said. “We’ll have more guards, more sailors, the works. Anything to get us out of there as quickly as possible.”

A thought popped up in Xain’s mind. “Won’t everyone be a little tired?” he said. “I’m pretty sure they’ve been working all day. Is it really a good idea to keep them working all night? Shouldn’t they have been taking breaks or something?”

With a wave of her paw, Eksa said, “It’s just a little lost sleep, that’s all. Not that any of them were going to sleep in the first place.”

“So you have a bunch of tired, stressed tigers,” said Xain, crossing his arms. “I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

Turning around and opening the door, Eksa looked over at Xain and said, “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? It’s getting pretty late, so you might as well go to sleep.” She moved aside as Kisan walked into the room, closing the door behind her as she left.

Xain and Kisan glared at each other. They hadn’t been on great terms in the last few days, which was saying something. Kisan had gotten a lot quieter and a lot more temperamental. Not that that was entirely Xain’s fault – Kisan also seemed to have a lot of headaches, and had even thrown up a couple times (the smell still lingered in the room). But Xain’s punches had left an impact too, and Kisan was very inclined to remind Xain of that.

“What are you looking at?” Kisan growled, balling his paws.

“You,” said Xain. He didn’t have any reason to care about Kisan - it wasn’t like Kisan was allowed to hurt him. Xain found it pathetic how easy it was to rile Kisan up, particularly now. It was almost as though Kisan was looking for excuses to get angry, which Xain figured was the case. If Kisan just sat in the corner and kept quiet more often, maybe they’d get along.

Kisan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Laugh at me, why don’t you? You’re going to regret it when I save your poor a** from the wolves.”

“That’s your plan?” Xain said, standing up to pull back the bedsheets. “Save me so I feel bad for being mean to you? Good luck with that – I’m the only one who knows how to use magic, and I’m pretty sure they can tear off your head too. And even if you did save me, somehow, I wouldn’t feel any differently about you. Also, how do you even know about the wolves? I thought they don’t tell you anything.”

“It might surprise you to know,” said Kisan, “but they do tell me things. Especially important things. And while the only thing your magic is good for is burning down the ship, I can at least hold my own.”

Slipping into the bedsheets, Xain adjusted his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “For about two seconds,” said Xain. “Can we have this conversation later? Or, better yet, never? I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kisan snarled. “Maybe I’ll get some sleep too,” he said. “I’ve got a headache anyhow.”

“Good for you,” said Xain. He tuned out whatever it was that Kisan was mumbling, choosing instead to think. Think about Rasca. Think about his home. Let the hours slip through the cracks of the unchanging planks of wood over his head until he felt drowsy. He spent most of his time in bed. If he wasn’t asleep, he was lying in the bedsheets. If he wasn’t lying in the bedsheets, he was dragging his food or water over to them. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. It was strange; he could remember working himself to the bone when he’d lived alone. Now he just waited, taken care of by people who didn’t want to take care of him. He waited for them to make their way to the mountains. He waited, though he didn’t exactly want to admit it, to die. Xain didn’t see himself making his way out of this situation. And some wolves weren’t going to change that.




Xain woke up to find a paw wrapped around his snout.

His eyes shot open as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Again. He was getting a little tired of being surprised in the middle of the night. As far as he could tell, he was in his room; he could still feel the warmth of the bedsheets he was wrapped up in, barely see the outline of the ceiling, catch sight of Kisan snoring in the corner. To his right were a couple of large figures, obscured by shadow. They whispered to each other in a language that Xain couldn’t understand. From the glances they were shooting his way, it seemed they were talking about him.

Xain struggled to open his mouth, but the paw was more than a little strong. The smell also overwhelmed him – it was more than a little musky. He had a hard enough time with new smells already, thanks to how sensitive his nose was; having something like that so close to him didn’t help. Breathing through his nose, Xain tried to make as loud a sound as possible. Maybe something that could get Kisan out of his stupor and do anything. Not that Kisan would do any good – if Xain had to guess, this was a pair of wolves, and he wasn’t quite sure Kisan could find help before the wolves attacked him. In any case, the wolf grabbing his snout merely shifted her paw forward, drowning out any sound. Great.

The wolves seemed to reach some kind of conclusion. One of them peeled back the bedsheets while the other pulled Xain off the mattress. Xain was impressed, and more than a little scared, at how quickly and easily the wolf could move him. It didn’t take any time at all for one wolf to spread the bedsheets out, the second to set Xain down, and the first to wrap Xain up. In only a minute, Xain was held firmly in place by the bedsheets, mouth and nose still covered. At least he could breathe, if not comfortably.

Quietly, the wolves wrapped their arms around Xain and pulled him up. The first wolf held Xain up by his legs, while the second wolf navigated the three of them to the door. Grabbing it and slowly pulling it aside, so that it barely creaked, the second wolf used her weight to keep it open as she brought Xain into the hallway. It was about then that Xain caught the smell of blood. In the darkness of the ship, he couldn’t make much of anything out, but he swore he caught sight of a tiger slumped against the wall before the wolves sped their way towards the stairs. He was fairly sure he smelled more than one dead tiger – that mix of blood and fur was hard to mistake.

Of course, the deck of the ship was empty. Part of Xain wondered how much of the crew the wolves had taken out. Presumably, a lot of the tigers had either gone to sleep or passed out from overwork. Depending on where everyone else was, the wolves might’ve done a number on the sailors. Xain hoped that meant that they wouldn’t be able to make it to their destination, but he hadn’t been that lucky before. In any case, he stared up at the moon as it cast a pale blue light over the sails, the captain’s wheel, the few bodies scattered around the edges of the ship. Whatever view he got was obstructed as the wolves began to make their way down the rope ladder, giving him the ability to look at a sea that he wasn’t quite keen on seeing, particularly with the ladder behind his back straining under the weight of the wolves. And yet, they moved quickly, and it wasn’t long before Xain found himself being lowered into a small wooden boat.

Xain was impressed that they’d been able to sail to the ship in the first place. It was less of a boat and more a pile of wood held together with rope and hope. One wolf bailed out water from a leak in the bottom, while two wolves rowed the boat and stared off into the distance. Between them and the last one, who kept her paw firmly over Xain’s mouth, it was more than a little crowded. Even sitting upright, Xain had to scoot back to avoid getting crushed by one of the rowers. To say nothing of the pit that settled in Xain’s stomach from sailing through the ocean in a leaky boat in the middle of the night. He’d never done something like this before, and for good reason. He had no idea if anything was lurking beneath the surface. The water was calm – there was a gentle breeze, but that was about it – but he couldn’t (and didn’t) look over the side of the boat and see. If he was lucky, maybe he’d die before he noticed anything attack.

The wolf took a while before she felt comfortable enough to let go of Xain. As soon as she pulled the paw away from his mouth, Xain pulled himself up and turned around. His heart sank when he saw the ship had turned to more of a distant speck on the horizon, faintly illuminated by the moon. The wolf bailing out the boat poked at the back of one of Xain’s legs; taking the hint, Xain slowly sat back down. Resting his head in his paws, he stared at the part of the floor that looked most intact. If he was lucky, they had brought Rasca with them. If he was unlucky, he would be alone on an island full of wolves who he couldn’t talk to. Would the tigers even bother picking him up? Would they go on ahead with Rasca? What would Rasca do? He’d felt reasonably confident in Rasca following the plan if they were together. Without Xain, would Rasca try to bridge the gap between the continents? Would Rasca sacrifice himself?

It took a few seconds for Xain to notice the wolf tapping his shoulder. Turning his head back, he tried to figure out what the wolf was saying. She spoke quietly, gesturing to the ship and then to Xain. He had absolutely no idea what she was saying. It sounded like something the tigers would say, if very broken and cut up. And Xain probably had less of an understanding of the tiger’s language than she did. From the little paw movements to the look of worry on her face, he guessed she was talking about him being a captive of tigers. Unless that was wishful thinking. In any case, she saw the expression on his face and stopped, instead pointing ahead.

Turning back, Xain saw where they were going. The moonlight caught a long, curved beach, much larger than his cove had ever been. Trees rose up away from the shore, the edge of the forest disappearing into the night. Unlike the last island, this one looked relatively flat. Which Xain wasn’t too happy about, since he wanted to be as far away from any monsters as possible, and it was hard to tell if that’d be the case. He counted down the seconds until the boat drove into the shoreline, jumping into the water and making his way onto the sand as soon as the wolves did. Two stayed behind to pull the boat towards the trees, while the rest led Xain up the coast. He didn’t have a hard time keeping pace with them – his strides were longer, and the wolves’ huffing told him they were exhausted. Xain tried to keep his eyes away from the coast, away from the ocean, and away from the moon that hovered overhead. As warm as the sand that wormed its way between his hindpaws felt, he wasn’t keen on staying around.

Xain smelled the larger group of wolves before he saw them. At this point, the wolves’ scent had settled down some – Xain’s main issue was that he could pick up blood. This had definitely been the group that had raided the ship. He peered into the forest until he could see them almost pop up from the bushes of the treeline, a few of them waving over to his group. The groups merged in the midst of the trees, wolves settling down among stumps, fallen trees, or wherever they could sit. It didn’t take long for Xain’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, and not much longer for Xain to find the base of a tree to sit at. Close enough to the wolves that they wouldn’t think he was trying to escape, and far enough away from the wolves that he didn’t have to interact with any of them.

The wolves sat in silence. Some bandaged wounds with pieces of cloth, while others covered scratches and cuts with what looked like a paste made from the bark. A few passed around pieces of meat and berries, and a couple had been set down on the ground and were being inspected. It was about then that Xain remembered how Eksa had described the wolves as warriors. It really felt a war camp – busy, full of life, but quiet. They’d fought a tough battle, and they’d gotten what they’d wanted (maybe). Xain had seen the tigers like that after a few of their raids. While that had always disgusted him, this felt more sad. Some had been injured, and others had possibly been killed. Everyone was too tired to talk.

Except for the wolf who had held a paw over Xain’s mouth. She was currently whispering to one of the larger wolves, who sat on a tree stump. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were talking about, given how they were glancing at him. Well, it was more of an argument than a conversation. They sounded more than a little tense.

He would’ve minded more if he didn’t feel the weight of the last hour pressing down on him. He’d been carried out of the ship, saw a bunch of dead bodies, sailed to an island, and all without any control over the situation. Xain was getting a bit tired of this.

After a couple minutes, the two wolves seemed to come to a conclusion. Given how the larger wolf had started to dominate the conversation, Xain could guess who’d won that argument. As the smaller wolf moved over to Xain, slightly hunched and looking at Xain with what looked like sympathy in those wide eyes and small frown, the larger wolf stood up on the stump and growled something. And, with that, the party snapped back into action. The wolves put food in satchels, lifted injured companions off the ground, and nudged Xain into the center of the group. Then the wolves made their way through the forest, taking care to brush aside tree limbs and step on roots poking out of the ground. That way, they’d have an easier time moving the injured. They didn’t go fast, but they had no reason to.

All the same, Xain was more than a little tired by the time the wolves made their way into their village. His steps were unsteady, his eyesight was blurry, and his head felt like it was full of fog. As such, it was hard to make out anything in the village. He could spot the outlines of what looked like lean-tos and even makeshift houses; firepits in front of those houses; and the shadows of large leaves covering the sets of watchful eyes that focused on him and his group. At the center of the village, what looked like a makeshift cage had been made from pieces of metal and wood held together by string and whatever else would bind things together. It swayed slightly in the gentle wind, casting a shadow over the two figures sitting in the middle of the cage and the one larger figure in the corner. And they were walking right to the cage.

Xain struggled and tried to squeeze his way through the group, but without any luck. They were packed together too closely. None of them even paid attention to him before the larger wolf undid the straps holding the cage’s door in place. Yanking back the door, the larger wolf gestured for the others in front of Xain to part. Then it was up to the smaller wolf to grab Xain by the shoulders and push him towards the door. Xain elbowed the smaller wolf, but the only thing he managed to do was bruise his elbow. A few steps later, the smaller wolf shoved Xain into the cage. Falling onto his paws and knees, Xain looked back just in time to see the larger wolf close the cage door and lock it shut.

Snarling, Xain pulled himself up and grabbed onto the nearest wall. Another wolf approached as Xain shook the wall. Strange, it was a little studier than Xain thought it would be. A couple pieces fell off, but it’d clearly been built by people who could move much heavier things than he did. The warrior gave Xain a puzzled look, gesturing to the spear in their paws. When Xain, scowling at the warrior, shook the wall again, the warrior sighed and pushed the spear into the cage, driving Xain back. So much for that. Now they’d probably expect him to break out. Then again, he was in the middle of a village full of trained warriors. Even if nobody was looking and he could break out, which seemed unlikely, they’d almost certainly hunt him down before he went anywhere. Wonderful.

“Xain?”

Xain froze. Heart pounding, he turned around slowly to see one of the figures standing up. Even in the moonlight, it took Xain a few seconds to recognize Rasca. The fox was covered in mud, parts of his clothes had been roughed up or shredded, and his scent was hard to pick out from all the wolves in the area, but it was Rasca all the same. And, when Rasca spread his arms out, Xain wasted no time in running over and throwing his arms around Rasca, knocking them both to the ground.

Some of the wolves shouted in alarm, and Xain could hear one of them open the door, but he wasn’t about to let go of Rasca. Snout pressed against the dirt, Xain sobbed, watching tears fall onto the ground and turn it into mud. In between his own sobs, Xain could hear Rasca crying quietly. One of the wolves crouched down next to Xain and Rasca, but, in between blinking tears from his eyes, Xain could see Rasca wave the wolf off. It took a couple seconds, but the wolf seemed to recognize what was going on. A couple howls later, the wolves had all left the cage, leaving Xain and Rasca to their own devices.

Xain flopped onto his side, pulled his head back so he could look Rasca in the eyes. A moment of anxiety struck Xain, causing him to pause. Was this safe? Rasca looked a little worse for wear, but not exactly dangerous. And Xain was still alive, which was probably a good sign. Whatever worries Xain had disappeared when Rasca took the opportunity to kiss him. Even if it wasn’t safe, Xain hadn’t seen his boyfriend for weeks, and he’d spent much of that time worrying if Rasca was still alive. It was worth it.

They held onto each other long after the kiss. Despite it being summer, and despite it being hot and humid, and despite both of them being covered in fur, the only time Xain felt chills was when he moved away from Rasca. Xain had spent the last several months losing Rasca and getting him back again. There was no guarantee that they’d stay together, particularly when they got back to the ship. The least Xain could do was make up for the time they’d spent apart. And, with his boyfriend in his arms once again, Xain fell asleep almost before he knew it.