This was my favorite part of Preene, between cities. There were no luxurious inns with electric lights and soft beds. There were no dining areas with thirty kinds of food to choose from. But there were also no fights, no stables, and no guardsmen to tell me to keep Cerberus muzzled. Cyrus learned on our first trip the moment we left the city walls I would let Cerberus loose. A week and four cities later, he still fidgeted as he set up his bedroll under the lycan's watchful gaze.

"You know, I really wish you would keep him tied."

"I know," I said. "But he couldn't hunt then."

"I brought food," my manager protested, sitting on the hood of one of the rusted vehicles surrounding us. "Besides, I'm afraid he's going to hunt my horse... or us."

I shrugged. "If he wanted to, you would already be dead."

"Right..." Cyrus sighed. "Listen, you know a lot of trainers have been killed by their lycans, ones that got too comfortable. Ones that raised them from pups."

"That's nice," I said, leaning back against a stack of tires. This was one of the few areas I had seen remnants of the old world in Preene. "I didn't raise Cerberus from a pup."

"Really? Who sold you an albino? Who raised an albino?" He shot me a skeptical glance. "All the breeders I've ever known drown any white pups."

I grit my teeth. I had been told that several times by other trainers. My standard reply was that maybe they shouldn't. Fortunately, that usually ended the conversation. If we continued, I might tell them maybe they shouldn't breed lycans like dogs. Maybe they shouldn't whip them and keep them in cages. Maybe they should feed and respect them and then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't want to tear their throats out.

"I didn't buy Cerberus. He's wild."

I expected his jaw to drop. After only a few days, his antics had become quite familiar to me. But he surprised me by keeping his mouth closed, his wide eyes the only indication of his shock. He didn't look at me. He stared at Cerberus.

Even I couldn't deny the canine looked menacing. Red still stained his jaws, droplets of deer blood glistening in the firelight. His haunting eyes glowed from between shadows flickering over his face.

It soon became clear Cyrus had no intention of speaking. It was quite the accomplishment, shocking him into silence. "He was an adult when he found me. He didn't kill me then, and he's had a thousand chances since."

It took several more minutes for Cyrus to speak. I didn't look up when he did. I had taken to staring at the charred bones of our dinner, thrown in the fire we had cooked on.

"Is that how it's done... in Askance?"

I pursed my lips in a frown. "There are no trainers in Askance. I was the only one who had any control over the lycans."

"Lycans? You had others?"

"Drop it." I hissed through exposed teeth. The heavy stones were back, pressing into the sharp ones that were a constant in Preene. I didn't want to think about them. I didn't want to think about their bodies, how their bones must be charred like the ones in our fire.

He was only silent a few heartbeats. He was quiet, even hesitant as he voiced his next question. "Why did you leave? Didn't you have friends? Family there? Parents?"

"No." I snapped. I never knew what happened to my parents, but I could imagine. They had no way of knowing the joy I brought them was toxic.

"Then who raised you?"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I had to remember how to act again. I couldn't let myself get worked up over a few questions. "Lots of people," was my reply, calm, casual. "I didn't care for any of them. I don't have family or friends."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't!" I fell backwards, just barely avoiding his sympathetic touch. Cerberus let out a low growl, but Cyrus was too busy frowning at me to notice the threat.

"You should know by now I'm not going to hurt you, so what's the matter?"

"I..." I ground my teeth together. After a moment's consideration, I reached up, snatching his exposed wrist in my bare hand. "What do you feel?" I demanded too forcefully. I needed to calm down. I was supposed to be acting.

"Uh," he looked down to where my skin was pressed to his, "I can feel you shaking..."

I breathed out a sigh, releasing his wrist and sitting up. It didn't matter. My touch meant nothing. I was no longer toxic. I was no longer a drug.

"What about you?" I asked too quickly. I tried and failed to keep the relief from my voice. "What was your childhood like?"

"I grew up in the capital," was all he said.

***

Cicil was too loud. The capital of Preene was even more boisterous and crowded than Obria. Buildings much taller than any I had seen in Askance lined the alleyways. The streets themselves were soft under my feet, as if the entire city had been built on a plain of sand. Cyrus was right, it was warmer here. Despite it being so close to winter months, I felt the urge to remove my jacket under the late noon sun, not that I would ever do so. Its long sleeves were as much of a shield from pedestrians as they were from the cold.

The streets of the market were far too crowded with shops and booths for Cerberus or Cyrus's horse, so we were forced to enter on foot after leaving the inn. The people were much more colorful here than any of the cities we visited thus far. They were draped in vivid blouses, robes, and even dresses. I hadn't seen a woman in a dress since the previous winter, when villagers sometimes wore thick skirts over winter pants. Yet those crude clothes couldn't compare to the elegance and craftsmanship of the garb of the capital women.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Try as I might to avoid them, I couldn't help but be brushed and bumped by dozens of people. Several times my bare hand swept across skin. I flinched away before crossing my arms, tucking my hands safely under my elbows.

I wasn't poisonous. The drug was gone. My touch was meaningless.

But they were everywhere. Merchants were calling out over one another, customers were haggling prices and talking amongst themselves. Everyone wore flowing clothes that wrapped around my arms and legs as they passed. In my mind they were silken ropes, come to bind me, to take me captive and hold me prisoner.

A long-haired man passed me, his elegant, gold-trimmed robe momentarily catching on my heel before he pulled away. I lunged forward, grabbing Cyrus around the wrist. He paused and turned back. His eyes met mine, his unspoken question sparkling in their bleak blue depths.

"I don't want to lose you," I muttered and glanced away. It would draw too many questions if I refused to leave my guardian, as I had done in Askance. However, without Cerberus by my side, Cyrus was the only one I could trust. It hardly made me feel safe, but I had no other choice. To consider myself alone was far worse.

My manager nodded. His arm twisted in my grip, reaching back to grasp around my wrist. I stared up as he began to pull me through the crowd. His jawline was quite prominent from this angle. Was it possible I hadn't noticed his strong frame, now guiding me through the people like a ray of sunlight through the night? I had spent over two weeks with the man, but never really looked at him, not like this.

No. I couldn't think that way. I couldn't get caught up in a fantasy. Cyrus was a man, just like any other. He would only help me so long as I was useful to him. This is the way I must see it. Cerberus was the only one I could truly trust; he was the only one who had ever proven himself. I couldn't let myself be tricked by anyone; I couldn't let what had happened with Brennon happen again.

He pulled me through a door and released me. I immediately stepped away, glancing around the well-kept shop. I looked anywhere but at him. Why did my wrist suddenly feel so cold?

Leather muzzles of various sizes lined one of the walls. Along another were shelves of whips, some normal leather, others an assortment of the electric kind I had encountered in Treef. The memory of Cerberus's yelp when it hit him flashed through my mind. I could only imagine the pain of the lycans condemned to silence.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering how I had ended up in such a place. Why was I here? I hated Cicil with its crowds. I hated the lycan fights. I hated the trainers. I hated Preene.

A promise. I had made a promise to those who no longer had ears to hear it, but it was a promise, nonetheless. That was why I stayed, to keep a promise.

With that resolution in mind, I was filled with the courage of determination. I couldn't run away, for the ones who had refused to run away for me.

"Cyrus, my boy, I haven't seen you since you were... well, a boy!"

My gaze switched over to a man sitting on a stool in the back corner of the shop. With his rough skin and the beginnings of graying hair, he blended well into the shop's merchandise. However, when he stood, it soon became clear he was a giant of a man, standing a full head taller than Cyrus, who he embraced in arms muscled to match.

"Hey, Roshaun."

"You told me you weren't coming back until you found a trainer," the man said, pulling back to look over my manager's face. "Have any luck?"

For an answer, Cyrus gestured with an open palm to me. The shopkeeper turned my way. The younger man slipped under the elder's arm, trotting to my side. "May I introduce Desire, the greatest trainer you ever met."

I gave a slight nod in greeting. I was reasonably sure I was blushing.

Roshaun laughed. "That's quite the claim. You know how many trainers I've met."

"Hands down, the best there is," Cyrus stated, his usual silly demeanor hanging around him. "We haven't lost a fight yet. But more impressive than that, Desire can call him off an attack, even after he got his teeth in the guy!"

"That is impressive." The man examined me with a new kind of respect. "And what would such a trainer need of my humble services?"

I took a deep breath before speaking. Be calm, be confident. "Cyrus told me you were the best leatherworker he knew." It was best to start off with flattery, I would rather make friends than enemies. It was a skill I was sadly lacking. "I need a custom muzzle for my lycan." I didn't want any muzzle at all, but Cyrus assured me a well-fitted muzzle would be much more comfortable than the ropes we currently used.

"Really?" Roshaun crossed his arms. "In what way will it need to be customized? Smaller in the forehead, smaller in the muzzle...?"

"Bigger in both," I said. "We have yet to find one that fits over his nose."

The shopkeeper glanced at Cyrus, who nodded. "Well," he said, "as Cyrus has probably told you, we breed them bigger in the capital. I have several already made that adjust up to a seven-foot two male."

I shook my head. "That still won't do. Cerberus is eight foot two."

Roshaun's reaction was remarkably similar to Cyrus's. I briefly wondered if all people in the capital were this expressive. The man choked on his words. "Eight two? Did I hear you right, miss? I've never seen one so large. That's big enough to-"

"To ride?" Cyrus finished with a grin. "Why don't you show me your leather stock while I tell you some of the stories I have. You wouldn't believe this giant if you saw him." My manager grabbed the leatherworker by the arm, leading him through a door in the back. “Eats like a... well, I’m not sure what eats that much.”

I frowned. It seemed Cyrus knew this place well, though I didn't. Now he had left me alone.

The men had hardly been gone a minute before the door opened again. I spun around. I spotted the man who entered immediately. He was impossible to miss with his bright pink shirt and equally bright matching hair.

"Roshaun!" the man called out. "Is my whip done? I'm not in the mood for waiting!" He turned, seeming to just notice my presence. "Nevermind! I don't mind..." He smiled, stalking toward me. "Hello there. Who's manager might you be?"

I fought the urge to step back. Instead, I frowned up at him. "I'm not a manager, I'm a trainer."

The man laughed, then gave a little bow. "My apologies, miss. I am Teppo Fandaris, professional class trainer."

I nodded. "Desire, pro trainer as well." The door opened again. I looked over Fandaris's shoulder. The man who had entered had dark skin and brilliant blue hair. "Is that your manager?"

Fandaris glanced behind himself and laughed again. "Why yes, it is. But right now, I want to hear more about your ‘pro training’."

"Well, unfortunately, you'll have to wait," I said. "That's my manager there, and we're very busy at the moment." I pulled away from the pink-haired man, slipping over to the newly appeared Cyrus's side. "Extremely busy, right?"

Cyrus looked from me to Fandaris. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "Yeah, sure. See you Roshaun." The giant man waved to us as Cyrus pulled me out the door. "What was that about?"

I shook my head. "He was getting too close."

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. "That was Fandaris. He's a top trainer, one of the best. He’s also known as a bit of an eccentric, even as trainers go."

I frowned. "Funny, I got that impression, too." I sighed. It didn’t matter, I just wasn’t used to people coming so close. I was just another person here.

My manager shook his head, seeming to clear it before a ridiculous grin spread across his face. He grabbed my shoulders, excitement clearly written over every inch of him. “Guess what? Roshaun sponsored us! Well, Cerberus, but you knew that-"

I found myself grinning along with him as he blabbered on. It was hard not to; his enthusiasm was infectious. So much that it was only when he let go I realized I’d forgotten to flinch away.