The humans loomed while Larissen and I completed the funerary customs.

Were I the same girl from before, I would have been horrified. But I was not. I had been forcibly altered, and then further molded by circumstance. But I could empathize with how the humans likely felt, at least judging by their expressions, ranging from revulsion (Gregory), to something oddly close to envy (Kate).

Regardless, I did my best to ignore them, focusing on following Larissen’s lead. However, he himself was perturbed by the audience. He radiated an awkwardness and hesitancy that stalled out the ceremony.

I, also, could understand this: many suffered performance anxiety.

But with the mikuya approaching on the wind, and with Charson’s trail fading, I made a decision to hurry the process along: by removing the source of anxiety.

I waved slightly to the lieutenant. “Give us a moment,” I requested.

Gregory and Ken scoffed, the Caravan Master showed nothing, and Kate frowned. But before the others could interject, Muleater answered.

“Don’t make us wait,” she said, before leading the humans further along into the crevasse, until they were out of sight, though they remained within earshot.

Larissen turned his gaze back down to his departed sister and sighed.

“Such a waste,” he said.

I was unsure what he meant. A skeptical portion wondered if he was referencing the lack of meat preservation, but another, much more reasonable portion, wondered if he meant her death in general. Playing it safe, I queried, “We’ll get justice though.”

“No,” he shook his head and tsked. “Justice is a thing of humans.”

“You mean you don’t want it?” I asked, curious. I could tell there was something more from his tone.

“No,” he scoffed. “These ones will seize vengeance. Soon this will be ours.”

I nodded in agreement, seeing no profit in disagreeing over banalities. But time was fleeting, the mikuya approaching, and the humans waiting without patience.

“What else remains to honor Kissen?” I asked, watching Larissen’s face intently.

His teeth clicked shut. His eyes narrowed. His ears laid flat. Finally, he huffed and shook his head. “This is not the way of our people, but our people are long distant. This one hopes our negligence will be excused.”

“What would normally have been done for Kissen?” I asked in the Kaivan tongue, though the modes of speech did not come as naturally as they should.

He hesitated.

So there was something more to these rites. Which made sense. Most cultures had more developed farewells than a few simple chants. Typically, it involved an entire sub sector of industry, and likely religion as well. But we were rushed for time, we lacked supplies, and he knew that. He knew these limitations.

Knowing this, and weighing the risk, I took a gamble.

“No amount of time is too much to honor her memory,” I said, emphasizing how much I thought that we should devote time to honoring Kissen. “This is what Kissen deserves. This is worth it.”

And it truly was a gamble. Because Larissen just might agree, which would put us both in a worse situation. But I calculated that by over emphasizing the obvious opposite, that he would be forced to moderate himself in the opposing direction. Although, as the words fell from my mouth, I realized that I took it too far, and that the plot might backfire. But there was no way to climb out of it now. I was committed.

“My sister is worthy,” he said, humming thoughtfully. “No matter what those fools press…”

Unfortunate. That is not an angle I could recover from without significantly weakening my position with him. And we really did not have the time to dawdle much further. But I would not be the one to budge first. To do so would put me in an even worse position than before.

“What must be done?” I asked in Kaivan, trying to avoid wincing, keeping my face as neutral as possible.

I hoped he would take the hint. Not only were we pressed for time, but we lacked supplies, for whatever other rites might be required. I prayed I would not have to call my own bluff.

He paused as he licked his teeth, cleaning them of stray strands of heart-meat. Finally, he began in a start stop fashion. “It… there would be more ceremony. Her body would be embalmed and… and it does not matter. Home is not here. The scent of our hunters grows stronger, and that of our prey grows weaker. We must go.”

Of course, no sign of relief passed my features.

“Are you certain?” I asked. Now that he had committed us to departing now, I could milk this just a little bit further.

His breath hitched. He glanced down at his dead sister once more, before he nodded. “Yes. These ones must depart.”

He turned to leave, though he waited for me to pass. While I was still feeling weak, I was glad he did not immediately need to pick me up to carry. It showed he thought I still retained independence, despite the missing left arm, despite the wounds.

I could not afford to appear overly weak, despite the fact that I was.

I followed after him, gritting my teeth with each jarring step. He may have kept a slower pace than normal. Though very soon, we rejoined the humans and pressed further into the passage, where the walls were narrow, and cramped enough that we could not walk more than three abreast, and the sky was not visible above due to the slanted overhangs of the walls.

They did not lead the way.

Oh, Kate tried to lead, as she must have been feeling rash and impotent from the earlier fight and was itching to either redeem herself or burn off that energy. However, Muleater coughed and shook her head when Kate started to move, after we came into view.

“The kun are the ones best able to find the shy alchemist,” Manny Stillson, the Caravan Master, said.

“He’s right,” Muleater said. “They can track the scent…” she might have said more to sell the point, and I almost heard her claim we were acting as minesweepers, to clear any traps the alchemist may have left. But she absolutely did not say those words. At least I thought. I may have been developing a fever.

“But there is only one way to go,” Kate answered without a shred of hesitation.

“For the sake of the Crown,” Ken growled. “We don’t want them at our back. They already deserted once.”

“Twice,” Gregory corrected.

“Once,” I ventured to correct him. Otherwise it would mark us as accepting the accusation. “Larissen deserted once. I never did.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Gregory scoffed, “And when we fought the wyrkwik? I suppose you stuck around and helped?”

“Besides the vials I gifted?” I asked, getting into the swing of the rhetoric now. All the while, I had squeezed past the humans, following Larissen.

“You surely mean traded,” Manny said, ignoring the fact that it was him who had shoved me to the ground and stomped upon my chest with his unhealthy girth.

“Can’t even remember earlier today,” Gregory sneered. “Are we certain they are competent?”

“Refresh my memory then,” I said, a half smile playing across my lips. I was just passing Kate, and one of her hands trailed across my fur, sending tingles down my hips. I ignored the contact and kept going. “What were the vials traded for?” I asked. “If they were indeed traded.”

Gregory faltered, though Manny filled in. “For the freedom of the male beastborn,” the Caravan Master said.

“Exactly. For his freedom. It was not desertion,” I said. Besides, Larissen and I were hardly military, and if civilians were to flee a battle, it would not typically be called desertion. But I had to make sure these humans thought of us as reliable, despite our history.

“And you?” Ken asked me. “Why did you flee with your tail tucked between your legs. I thought you were all in.”

Kate gave a sharp look towards him, which she then turned towards me. I almost shied away, but I had justification. A good one, I felt.

“I was unconscious,” I said.

“Excuses,” Ken grunted.

We continued onwards, with Larissen and I leading, using our natural abilities to ensure we remained on the trail. Though due to my weakness, crouching low was difficult. As such, most of the tracking fell to Larissen.

But even if he was responsible for tracking, I could not help but catch scents.

In the crevasse, the air had grown somewhat stagnant. We were too deep for the winds of the surface to reach us, and there were far too many twists and turns for the air to flow easily. Due to this, the ever present scent of the mikuya faded, though that was hardly a relief. That only meant we could no longer follow their progress. The stagnant air did did make it easier to track Charson, though. The burnt acerbic chemicals that had wafted from him as he had passed down this very same passageway the day previous.

However, Larissen’s services might have been superfluous, as Kate was correct. There was only one way to go currently. She was walking just behind me, and I felt her batting at my tail occasionally. At least I assumed it was her. I hoped it was. The alternative was that it was Gregory, and that would have left me feeling violated.

Gregory had worked his way up to walk beside Kate and while he lagged a step behind her, he could in theory reach for it.

I glanced behind once, just as something touched my tail. But the sudden motion somehow hurt my arm, despite the fact that turning my neck should have had nothing to do with the cut below the elbow.

I hissed from the pain.

“You need to be careful,” Kate lectured me. “Injuries like that take their toll.”

“Since when were you a veterinarian?” Gregory asked. Somewhere further back, Ken grunted out a chuckle.

“Shut it,” Kate growled out, elbowing Gregory and sending him careening into the wall.

“Hey!” he protested, but Kate kept walking, and he had to hurry a few steps to catch back up to her. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No,” she bit out. “You did. Not appreciated.”

I shook my head. There were layers to this interaction, at least on Kate’s side. Gregory was just acting the jealous and spurned adolescent. But Kate? She was dealing with guilt, for, for… I shook my head again, a little more sharply. My left arm burned, my ribs ached, my forehead pounded.

“Quiet,” Muleater called out. “Ears sharp. Or did you forget where we were?”

Kate scoffed and muttered, “not that noise would make a difference.”

It was true, they likely did know where we were already, although there was no reason to confirm it for them, if they were close enough. And as for Charson, he likely had yet to discover we were following. In that case, silence could be critical.

If the conversation had gone on, I might have stepped in. Worst case would be Larissen’s intervention, as he would certainly lack tact. But other than Kate’s murmur and glare towards Gregory, the conversation did end. The trudge continued, through the dark passageways, with the only light coming from weakly glowing artificed devices hanging from the humans’ belts. Lanterns, they called them.

After a while of trudging, I began to weaken further. My equilibrium worsened. The ground seemed to sway, and my fever had come back. A while after that, I stumbled and tripped. Then I was spinning my right arm, trying to grab anything to catch me before I hit the ground and jolted my left side on stone and–

Warm arms wrapped around my stomach and chest slowly catching me and stopping my momentum, before picking me up and wrapping me in a bridal carry.

It was easy to forget just how preternaturally quick Kate was.

As she carried me, Larissen glanced behind at us and grimaced, before turning his attention back forward. Gregory had an acerbic comment. But I could care less. Kate glanced down at me, a concerned and saddened smile.

Some time later, we came to a split in the passageway.

Larissen examined each one. The one to the left veered off at an acute angle, angling back in the direction we had come. The other path was a straight continuation of the one we had been following.

“Well? We let you tag along,” Gregory said. “Which way?”

“Patience, Silverborn,” Manny Stillson said. “Profits are lost when we rush. Better to spend minutes now than hours later.”

Kate coughed, almost a chuckle, though I was unsure why. She glanced down at where she was holding me and winced. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

“This is why I never had kids,” Ken grunted. Muleater rolled her eyes but must have agreed, if slightly.

Larissen pointed along the main path and set out again. I noticed that the burnt chemical smell was a little bit fainter, but still present.

But that was not the only scent that was changing. The mikuya scent had been picking back up again as well. I wondered if I had any options besides a fever and frailty; I supposed I could practice my Illusions, but at the moment only Larissen knew of them, and I refused to give up a useful advantage against the humans; especially Gregory.

The only one who was decent was Kate, and she was the one that had cut–

We continued walking.

Well, everyone else continued walking, and I continued to be carried, reveling in the warmth, softness, and sense of safety that Kate offered. Which I knew, intellectually, stood orthogonal to the fact she had been the one to amputate–

I also recognized, intellectually, that in my current feverish state, that I perhaps was not thinking as clearly as I should be. And so I nuzzled into the top of Kate’s chest. And she rested her chin against the top of my head, pushing my ears aside in a not entirely pleasant manner.

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by a complaint from Gregory, about his sore feet, to no one in particular.

“Should have invested in better boots for the travel,” The Manny interjected lightly. “I introduced you to my acquaintance, the master cobbler; she truly offers grand work. Every caravaneer knows the importance of comfortable boots.”

“Again about the cobbler,” Ken grumbled. “I swear if you had a tryst with the woman we would have heard about her less.”

“Ah, hem,” the Caravan Master cleared his throat. “That is–what I mean to say, is that this is purely a platonic venture. Not that I would find fault in her beauty of course. But that it is not the reason I would recommend–”

“We get it,” Kate said, with little humor. A sentiment that both Ken and Muleater appeared to repeat.

Gregory complained about a blister forming on his heel, and then I felt his eyes land upon me, where I rested in Kate’s arms. “I wish someone would carry me,” he grumbled.

Kate was on the verge of lashing out, but I beat her to it.

“No you don’t,” I said.

“What. You think you’re the only one feeling unwell, cat?” Gregory said, his face almost a weary sneer.

I wanted to correct him. Because I was fairly certain I was not in fact a cat humanoid. I was fairly certain that Nick Delaney had been correct, that I was a fox humanoid, and not a cat. But that fact hardly mattered, and I was unsure why it lingered in my mind. My clouded mind jumped from one fact to another, and I could not restrain myself from speaking further.

“Well?” Gregory pushed, reminding me of my point.

“You’re not willing to pay the price of this ride,” I said softly, feeling the fire radiate up my shoulder.

Were I thinking more clearly, I would have been hesitant to use this in conversation so lightly. Kate likely felt a great amount of guilt for what she did. Referencing the fact with irreverence would lessen any future payoff I might receive from the fact. Or perhaps the lingering guilt would make that payout all the sweeter. I was unsure.

“To have Sir Kate carry me?” Gregory scoffed. “I think I would consider it. Besides, with what Chargers did you pay? Or was it when you–” He was about to put his foot in it and I was interested in seeing just what he said, and how it would sour his relations with his own people. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Kate stopped him before he could say anything too juicy.

“Cut. It. Out.” Kate bit out each word.

Gregory clamped his jaws shut, and in the gloom, I could almost imagine his face reddening in shame. The conversation might have ended there. I could not have that.

“What price, you ask?” I asked, my voice just slightly cracking. Gregory glanced surly towards me. I waved my stump at him. “Be my guest to pay it.”

Before he retorted, Kate reprimanded me. “Did you want to walk?” she asked. I could not tell how serious she was, but no, I did not. I shook my head and swallowed.

“Then be good.”

I nodded.

I turned my head so that I would not see Gregory smirking.