Taken aback, Nevin stormed through brush and around to Aidux's front. The cat pointedly refused to look at him. “Tell me I didn't just see you leap right into the faces of two men, scare them silly, and-”

He looked around. Nothing but trackless forest as far as he could see in every direction, a slight gray haze obscuring the farthest reaches of his sight. “Chase them off, I guess?”

“Those weren't men, Nevin. They were soldiers.”

Nevin crossed his arms again. “First of all, they were both. You can be one thing and also be another. Like, you're a cat but you're also a pain in my ass. See how that works?”

The cat stuck out his tongue.

“But second of all, why does it even matter? You're not supposed to be seen, regardless.”

Aidux huffed, like he couldn't believe he had to spell things out to the clueless human. “You told me the first rule – the most important rule of all – was to make sure to never show myself to any of the peoples of Elbin.”

The young man nodded. “Oh, so you do know the rules. I was starting to wonder.”

“Wellllllll,” the cat began, stretching the word out in an effort to drown out Nevin's sarcasm. “Elbin is made up of two peoples, Nevin. Farmers and, as far as I can tell, some really poor hunters. Seriously, how does a cat as big as me just roam around the forest without anyone catching on? For eight years, Nevin. Eight years. Are their noses completely broken?”

Nevin shrugged. “Okay, what's your point?”

“Farmers and hunters, Nevin,” the cat continued. “And if Elbin is peopled entirely with nothing but farmers and hunters, that means there are no soldiers in Elbin. No soldiers in Elbin means any soldier I come across isn't from Elbin. And if they aren't from Elbin...”

The young man waved his hands and straightened. “No, that's not-”

“...then I can show myself all I want and it wouldn't break the first rule.”

Blinking innocently, Aidux peered up at his friend as if daring him to argue.

Nevin extended a single finger. “You knew what I meant.”

Annoyed by the cat's wordplay, Nevin removed himself from the conversation and returned to the fallen maple. Something else was bothering him, something he'd clearly forgotten, and despite the danger posed by Aidux revealing himself to the two soldiers, the question of why he was carrying Dalen's canteen weighed on his back of his mind.

He brushed the leaves out of his face, wincing when a stray branch pressed a bit too hard against his tender arm. Aidux padded along behind him, stopping just beyond the reach of the leaves as Nevin fought his way back to the trunk. The leather strap dangled right where he left it.

The cat's ears wilted. “Please don't be mad. You know I'm a good cat. And good cats wouldn't just...jump out into the middle of a peoples without an extra good reason.”

The strap swung lazily in the still air. He could see the canteen from here. It must gotten caught just as he'd vaulted the fallen trunk. He ran a hand over a scuffed section of ribbonesque bark. Flecks of skin and dried blood came off on his palm. The gash on his head throbbed in response.

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“I know, buddy.” He tested the strap, yanking it down and then sideways, putting as much weight as he could with but one good arm. The canteen wiggled only slightly. “And I'm not mad, not exactly. Maybe a bit, but mostly, it just scares me to think of either of those men hurting you. You've never done anything like that before.”

Aidux shifted nervously. “I told you, something's wrong with the forest. I've spent the better part of this morning sneaking around, tracking them, watching them. I don't like this, so many armed men walking around my forest like they own the place.”

Wrenching on the strap in just the right manner, Nevin grunted as the canteen popped free of its perch and plunked into his outstretched hand. Awfully light. At over a decade old, the canteen had seen better days, but its simple, rounded design meant it could withstand some fairly careless treatment. The dingy brass was scratched and foggy from years of rough handling.

To his surprise, the cork had been replaced recently, appearing fresh and blemish-free. He popped it out. Empty, though the canteen still bore the sickly-sweet stench of apple wine.

Replacing the cork, Nevin held his breath and nervously turned the canteen over to see if his fears were correct. Sure enough, a sizable dent marred its outside edge, a dried splotch of what could only blood darkening the dent's deeper crevasses.

You would have to hit something pretty hard to damage it like this. A chill crept up his spine.

Aidux continued. “There's bunches of them, Nevin. Soldiers, I mean. And the things they've been saying to each other...the things I watched them do near town...when they found you, I just got the really strong urge to bite their fat noses off. Serves them right for sticking them where they don't belong.”

The cat paused, rooting around beneath the fallen tree. “What's this?”

Nevin wrapped the leather strap around his good arm, then, thinking the better of it, secured the canteen to his belt instead. He emerged to find the lynx pawing at a bulging leather pack that had been partially obscured by a combination of both leaves and ground cover. He recognized it immediately.

The lynx looked up at Nevin, then back at the pack in confusion. “Were we supposed to be going camping today? I don't remember talking about it, but it might be a good idea to hole up somewhere out of the way for a few days. Give these soldiers a chance to find whatever they're looking for and leave.”

But Nevin wasn't listening. A stream of memories had surfaced at the sight of the pack, flashing through his mind in a chaotic stew of mismatched images. He saw himself scrounging up various items of import from the main house, going room to room in rapid succession, moving with such speed and urgency that he had never once looked up to make sure that Dalen hadn't caught on to his actions. Packing had been so important in those moments that he hadn't cared about the devastating consequences of being discovered.

Running through the forest? That was just dangerous. Aidux was right; he knew better than that. Rummaging through the house? That was a beating. As he'd grown up, and grown bigger than Dalen, dealing with the man's violent outbursts had become far more manageable, though he dreaded the days when the man was sober. He was especially cruel when his mind was clear, and he had a knack for catching Nevin off-guard. The smartest move he could make on what he called 'dry days' was to just disappear into the woods.

But there were two things he knew never to do, and one was to never so much as touch that battered brass canteen. The old drunk had made it painfully clear on a number of occasions just what it would mean for their relationship should Nevin ever cross that line. And for as long as he could remember, the young man had held that warning as sacred above all others.

Nevin's heart threatened to break from his chest. That brass canteen had always hung at Dalen's side, and as far as Nevin was concerned, the two weren't separate entities. So when he'd awoken not long ago, inside a fallen tree, dangling from a leather strap attached to said canteen, he immediately realized that nothing good had happened in that morning's missing moments.

The canteen, the blood, the pack, even his own reckless behavior in the forest...Could it be possible? Could he really have done what the evidence was suggesting?

With wide eyes, Nevin stared down at his shaking hands.

For the first time in his life, had he actually fought back?

What had he done to the man who refused to call himself his father?