Khukri crept into camp as the mist began its nightly descent, breathing a sigh of relief to see Master already home. The rolling cloud above glowed under peaceful moonlight, clashing with the flames from a flickering fire pit below. An ache ran through her stomach, drawing her to crouch over the fire to watch the series of skewered sausages hiss and spit from seared cases. With one last heavenly breath, she pulled away. Khukri could take them, if she wanted. There was always that lingering temptation to abuse her master’s naivete, but she’d teach him, soon.

On that front, things progressed smoothly. While hard-headed and difficult to work with at first, he’d been much more agreeable since her discovery. Most owners jealously guarded their status, but Master was so weak-willed that he’d basically agree to anything if she looked cute. The trouble wasn’t getting him to act properly, but to do so without prompting. Khukri was a weapon, after all, and a proper weapon didn’t direct her wielder.

The tent’s innards glowed with soft gaslight, and by studying Master’s shadow, she determined he sat by the wood pile. Inwardly she cursed. Master hadn’t given her a cage, but he’d mentally divided the space and given her a straw mattress and bedroll, while taking the woodpile and cloth nest for himself.

Khukri’s clothing easily slid off and silently folded into a bundle. Her new owner had inverse mental strengths to others. Most were easily pressured with greed, fear, or flattery, but the few times she’d tested those he’d become defensive and skittish. Conversely, normal owners didn’t have a problem exploiting others, a strength Master lacked. Luckily, she was uniquely poised to correct that.

Master smiled as Khukri stepped into the tent, glancing up from his book. His breath shifted subtly, hungry eyes roaming her naked form before he swallowed and forced them to her face. That pleasant mask returned; it always did, once his surprise faded. “Evening Khukri, how’d it go?”

Her gaze shifted from the pile of wood he’d fashioned into a seat to the book in his hand. It was a small thing, one of the many forbidden texts from his trunk, and of course, he was oblivious to the danger. “I think I found what you need in District 4. There’s a building with a collapsed roof right next to the wall. I also found a fully intact building that’d make a good warehouse, but it’s a bit of a walk from the first. If it’s unacceptable, I’ll find something closer.”

“Thanks, Khukri. We’ll take a look first thing tomorrow.” He closed the book, turning to the trunk to return it. Khukri forced thoughts of the book aside and closed in. She needed an innocent excuse to invade Master’s comfort zone, and whenever he had time to collect himself his mask pulled tighter. “Things with Issac were a partial success, he gave aah-”

Khukri silently swept around Master’s blind side as he looked away, then pressed her breasts into his back as she held his shoulders. “Master? What’s that?”

His entire body went rigid as he sucked in a steadying breath, fumbling over pages as he reopened the book. It’d be alright, even though the books were dangerous, she couldn’t read, and it was vital he grew accustomed to her touch.

“I-It’s a book about a hero.” Master’s breathing steadied, becoming wistful as he pressed on. “A divine hero, chosen by the goddess to save Sibir from a terrifying wolf who unified all the wolf clans and disappeared villages in the night. He was strong - and brave. He helped people...” Master let out a lethargic sigh, tossing the book into the trunk.

Sibir? Previously, he’d spoken about having some purpose, and traveling to Sibir after she protected him. Perhaps digging deeper might expose an easier weakness? “You never struck me as a religious man, Master.”

A bark of laughter escaped before he reeled it in, pulling away as he stood. “I wasn’t, until about a year ago. Now I’m about as religious as they get.” Master smiled, the grin of a man enjoying a private joke. “I’ve read those stories since I was ten, spent all my money getting them. My own money, mind you. Only thing I ever bought before all this. But until a year ago I didn’t know it was all real.”

Khukri cocked her head. “What happened a year ago?”

Master turned, eyes hardening as his head shook. “Nothing that matters right now. Come on, you still need to eat and get your bandages changed before bed, and we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Damn. Back into his shell he went. The information she’d acquired wasn’t much to work with, and now he’d have his guard up for the rest of the night. For the time being, Khukri withdrew, eagerly accepting the generous portions he fed her and obediently helping him change her bandage. There was a limit, after all - a line between forging a personal connection and interrogating a subject for vulnerabilities. Master gave her the right to question him to encourage the former, but might revoke it if he realized she intended the latter.

With her belly full and wounds dressed, Khukri sunk onto the straw mattress, stretching with a long yawn to let Master enjoy the view. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the bait, nervously averting his eyes and wishing her a good night as he extinguished the lamp.

For some time, she watched him, eyes adjusted to the new light. His consideration for her feelings wasn’t a problem exactly. It was better than serving a cold, heartless master. The problem arose from the mistaken belief he’d protect them over his own desires. Master probably thought he was different from others, that restraining himself made him somehow moral. That delusion kept him from enforcing order, and it wouldn’t be purged until she found a line he thought he wouldn’t cross, and showed him how dark an owner’s heart truly was.

Khukri jostled the straw, crinkling it as she released a low whimper. Nothing. She tried again, but louder. This time, Master stirred and his breath grew uneven. With his attention roused, she went quieter, whining into the bedding as though afraid he might overhear.

“Khukri?”

There he was; now to bait her skittish predator to his meal. “I-I’m sorry Master. I’ll try to be quiet.”

Blind eyes stared warily into the darkness, like a terrified beast wondering if the shadows held a tasty treat or a wolf’s jaws. Master paused, considering his options before he spoke. “Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

“I-I-I’m sorry. I’ll go to bed.” That one Khukri laced with a hint of fear. She’d found fear to be Master’s favourite bait, though she tried to use it sparingly.

Slowly, he emerged from his clothing nest, approaching the imaginary line dividing their sides. Fingers brushed along the ground, ensuring nothing was there as he cautiously approached. “Shhhh... Relax, Khukri, relax. You’re not in trouble. What’s wrong?”

“It’s... not scary, exactly. It’s unnerving.” Truth helped sell the act; not too much, of course, but a bit always helped. “There’s no walls, no packmates, and I can smell people in the other campsites. There’s so many in every direction I couldn’t tell if one was sneaking up on us.”

“We’re okay. Those other people are our walls. Via won’t risk coming here.” Master crawled across the line, closing to arm’s length before she lifted her head, stopping him cold as their eyes met in barely perceptible moonlight.

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“I know. I said I wasn’t scared, it’s just... hard to relax.” The bedroll slowly slid down her figure, rustling across her fur as she rose, eyes slightly below his.

Those eyes followed the sound before Master swallowed and took a steadying breath. “I, uh, I get it. My first night away from home, I fell asleep on this little fishing boat using a coil of rope as a pillow. Barely slept with all the rolling. Woke up with a sore neck and a big guy kicking me, saying ‘out of the way, island boy.’ It was a week of ports and boats with nothing to do but worry if Via would be on the next dock with a bag of money to turn the crew into captors. It never really goes away.”

“I must’ve made it so much worse this morning.” Khukri slipped onto her knees, silently leaning closer as she lowered to a whisper. Instead of perking her ears, they lay back, innocently. “You’re still scared of me, aren’t you?” Khukri’s head drew close to his. From this range, she heard every fluctuation in his breath, wavering as she exhaled over his neck, making his ears twitch wildly.

“It’s not your fault. Everything’s scary when you’re weak.”

Khukri cloaked her smile in shadow. That tone was unmistakable: shame. He understood he was weak, and that got under his skin. She could work with that. Long fingers moved slowly around the back of his neck, preventing his retreat before she brought her muzzle alongside his. Master’s scent engulfed her as Khukri rubbed against him, eyes half-closing. Her words escaped in a breathless hush. “You’re not weak, Master, not anymore. I’m your weapon. When you use me, you’re the scary one.” A shiver wracked his body before he released a palpable, soft exhale. Eyes flicked down his torso as her head grazed his shoulder, nuzzling roughly beneath his chin as she ground her scent into him - before withdrawing. Straw crunched beneath his fingers as he leaned after her, blindly pressing a palm into her thigh.

A small, curious grunt escaped her, causing Master to snap back like he’d grabbed a snake. His fingers curled into a fist, shaking. “Would it help you relax... if I slept here again?”

Oh no, not this time. A proper Master doesn’t need permission. “I couldn’t, Master. I want you to relax, to be comfortable, but everyone’s afraid to be around wolves like me. I’ll just do my best not to bother you.”

Master glanced toward his clothing pile as seconds passed. After a moment, he turned back, shutting his eyes with a sigh. “You’re not bothering me Khukri. I’m the one who dragged you into this. If I can help...”

“Your place is where you’re comfortable, Master.” Straw crunched as she lay back down, gently trailing her fingers down his chest and along his thigh. “But if you want to sleep with me, I promise to make you as relaxed and comfortable as you like.”

Khukri adjusted the bedroll as Master crawled forward, then slid her good arm in place so it’d be under his head when he lay down. Once he was close enough, she pulled tight so his back pressed firmly against her chest. Her bandaged arm fell over his stomach as she cuddled, sliding her muzzle over his shoulder to squeeze him possessively. “Sleep soundly, Master.” Khukri whispered, smiling as she felt him shiver in her grasp. “Your pet wolf will keep you safe.”

***

District 4, like most of the ruined metropolis, was a vast sea of stone buildings and rubble awash in moss. The last memory of a dead civilization, only useful as a shell for new inhabitants to crawl into, be they the Direwood Syndicate in District 1, or the various critters whose scent lingered on the air as she passed.

Master trailed behind with a rumbling cart of tethered barrels, leaving Khukri to her thoughts. At one point, this city must’ve held a staggering number of people. Even during hunting season, the Direwood Syndicate and its guests only filled a quarter of their District, leaving the remaining eleven unoccupied. Thirteen, if you counted the underwater ones. Grey wolves lived here back then, but their masters’ identities were lost to time, erased from history when The Schism destroyed all civilization. If the Othelan archaeologists who picked this place clean and shipped everything to the Othelan Anthropological Museum decades ago hadn’t figured it out, no one would.

Beyond the wall they followed, lay District 5, one of the submerged ones. Water crept over the top and wept onto their side, leaving a slick trail of algae that coated nearly every inch. The flow was so minimal only the occasional stray drop, sheared free from its path, reminded her it flowed at all.

The selected building was a huge rectangle only a few metres from the wall, close enough to tease Khukri with the prospect of swimming, had Master not forbidden her from getting her stitches wet. Half the building was unusable. At some point a side wall collapsed, and part the roof with it, dumping a ten-foot-high pile of stone, dirt, and shattered clay shingles into the interior. The other side, though, held three sturdy walls with an open doorframe to access it.

Whatever flooring once graced this building had long since rotted into mulch, leaving any potential foundation under a layer of dirt so thick she hadn’t seen it. This was the second trip, splitting the day into two, divided by lunch and Master’s new ‘hobby’ of ‘examining’ the other hunting slaves in Issac’s kennels. On their morning trip, Master worked the place over with his strange axe, leaving the soil chewed up and wet, moulding around her hind claws and leaving pawprints in her wake.

“Okay,” Master said, abandoning the cart and entering the building. He set his pack against the wall and removed a bag twice the size of his fist, loosening the drawstring to access its contents. “We’re going to need a lot of water. I can build a more permanent solution tomorrow, but today, just put the barrels near the wall. Then use my cloak to soak up what you can and wring it into the barrel. I'll be out to help you in a minute.”

“Yes, Master.” Khukri made for the door, but after two steps she stopped. That was an order, clearly, but at some point, she had to acknowledge the endless faults in Master’s plan. When she turned back, he wandered down the tilled field, flinging fistfuls of seeds into the dirt. A grimace crossed Khukri’s face as she circled back. “Master, I apologize if I’m out of turn, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

The seeds stopped and Master turned back, curious. “Yeah, but I was trying to respect your wishes to um, ‘enforce order.'’. Did you want me to explain?”

Did she want...It wasn’t like he was hunting the wrong kind of prey, he was acting insane. As far as she could gather:

Step 1 - Spend 643,000 florins to buy the greatest hunter on the Direwood Exchange.

Step 2 - Have that hunter miraculously kill a velkammer.

Step 3 - Waste tons of delicious velkammer meat by trading it for the right to fondle random slaves, despite having a much stronger and prettier slave he could fondle to his heart’s content...and chose not to.

Step 4 - Start a farm in the fucking Direwood, a location with mist blocking out half the sunlight and causing nightly temperatures well below freezing.

Step 5 - Issac protects him from Via. Somehow.

“No...” Khukri said, flirting with insubordination while unwilling to damage her progress. “I just want you to know you can ask me questions. If there’s information that might help you with your plans.”

“Thank you.” Master smiled like she’d said something cute. “I really appreciate the help.”

It wasn’t until late that night, after dragging Master to bed, that Khukri pressed him for information. To her dismay, this ‘farm’ was the plan for the next two weeks. Rather than hunting, they’d visit their farm in the morning, return for lunch and his daily session of ‘examining girls’ and end with another trip to the farm.

True to his word, the next morning they visited District 4, but things had changed. The entirety of the building, empty only the day before, was filled with a forest of bright green tubes stretching from the ground through the broken roof. Tiny leaves hung from tightly packed stalks, filling the sky with a verdant canopy that shone in the morning light.

A hand on her back snapped Khukri from her reverie, gently pushing her aside so Master could pass, badly suppressing a shit-eating grin. “Time’s a-wasting Khukri,” he muttered, passing her an iron sickle. “Give me a hand with these, if you would. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

That evening, Master cut the tubes, 'bamboo' as he called them, into sections, before tethering them tightly into a hollow hook. After setting the hook over the wall, so one side dipped into the submerged district he sucked on the back end, starting a siphon that drew water in an endless stream to fill their barrels.

The next day, they returned to a field of knee-high plants with five-pointed leaves, which she helped harvest and move to their warehouse in freshly constructed bamboo boxes. The day after that, their field had more plants she’d never seen, and on and on and on it went. Each day she bore witness to impossible sorcery, and all while the sorcerer stood behind her, grinning, daring her to request an explanation.

Master probably thought he was being really cute, smiling all the time and turning this into some sort of game, taunting her into questioning him again. If he wanted to tease her for daring to doubt her betters, fine, she’d play, but this wasn’t over.