Xaxac did not look at Takashito as he made his way into the enclosure where the fighters were kept. He did not want to be reminded of his morning breakdown, which he blamed entirely on the fatigue he felt after he had shifted. Had he been in his right mind, it never would have happened. He was just tired was all that was wrong with him.

Billy was standing among the other fighters, wearing far more clothing than any of the fighters normally did, despite the chill in the autumn air, with pants and what Xaxac would have classified as an undershirt. Still, Xac could see the scars peeking out from the seams of the fabric, and he smiled.

“Perfect!” Agalon smiled, “Good morning. Nice to see you up and movin. How you feelin?”

“I been tellin you I’m fine for a good two weeks,” Billy snarled, and Xaxac noticed that Wyatt had been standing beside him, but he moved to put some distance between them, possibly to watch Xac.

“I won your match for you,” Xac said cheerfully, “You’re welcome.”

“I bet you did,” Billy said, then to Agalon he said, “They let you put a monster in the cage? That boy ain’t right. That boy ain’t human.”

“I’m as human as you are!” Xac giggled, “And they loved me! The whole arena got to chantin for me!”

“Ain’t what I heard,” Billy said, “I heard they was singin a nursery rhyme. That there wouldn’t nobody in that audience knew your name. Your time’s up, Foo Foo. You just fixed the mess you caused. You’re done now. Go sit down. Eat your carrots.”

“Actually,” Agalon said, “I reckon I’m givin him the rest a’ your matches this year. You can compete next season. That rabbit’s dynamite in the cage, ain’t you, Honey Bunny?”

“What?” Billy asked, as if he had not processed what he had just been told, as if the information was so ridiculous it should not exist.

“I won!” Xac explained, “And besides, you’re hurt. I don’t reckon you could do much that tore up.” He unwound himself from Agalon’s side and sashayed up to Billy, who did not, as he had expected, take a step back, “Let’s see it. I wanna see the scar.”

He laid his hands on Billy’s chest with every intention of pulling up his shirt, but Billy grabbed him by the wrists and glared down at him.

“Don’t fuckin touch me,” he said.

“They didn’t know if you was gonna live,” Xaxac said, “They told Aggie he’d have to come out here every day and heal you. And he did. He must really like you! You know, like the house. And all the pretty clothes. Like all the other pretty little things he owns.”

He giggled, jerked his hands away, and hopped back to Agalon, “Right, Aggie?”

“He ain’t that pretty anymore,” Agalon said absentmindedly; he hadn’t been paying attention, he had apparently been watching Ara talk to Takashito behind them, “But yeah, I like him. He’s a great fighter. Oh, right, that reminds me,” he finally turned his full attention back to the conversation, “I was gonna breed you before you get your fool ass killed and I lose you. I can’t remember nothin no more. I’m gonna write that down. Y’all go through your mornin exercises.”

He pulled out the small book he often wrote in and began to jot something down while Xac bounced off of him and went to run with the fighters.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Wyatt said as he struggled to keep up with Xaxac, “a goddamn idiot.”

Xaxac giggled. “He’s at the back of the pack. He’s still in real bad shape.”

“Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. You don’t know if you can do that shit again. You gonna fuck around and get yourself killed.” Wyatt warned.

“Yeah, eventually,” Xac shrugged, “But it ain’t gonna be today and it ain’t gonna be him.”

“You shifted last night,” Wyatt said, “I can keep up with you. You’re wore out. You’re all young and cocky and it ain’t a good look.”

“I ain’t that wore out,” Xac argued.

“What happened to the collar?” Wyatt asked, “On that blue elf?”

“I broke it, I reckon,” Xac laughed.

“Quit laughin so goddamn much,” Wyatt said, “You sound crazy.”

“Good ear,” Xac said.

“How are you feeling?” Quizlivan giggled from his position, warm under the furs he had spread out over them like a blanket.

They had moved back to the shelter he had built, among the empty expanse of what was, once, a fertile plane off the shortline, but was now nothing but snow, snow that he could pack together to create a sort of makeshift house that kept out most of the cold. He had spread one skin along the floor to make any kind of shield to keep in the heat, and was covering himself with the one he had been wearing. He knew he would, at some point, have to get up and make a fire or they likely would not make it through the night.

“...you didn’t have to come with me…” Morgani said as if he felt he was a burden.

“You don’t like me Morgani?” Quizlivan smiled and arched an eyebrow, “That isn’t what you were saying before, when you taught me what a cloaca was.”

“I like you,” Morgan moved closer under the fur and Quizlivan was happy to see that the heat had not completely left his body yet. “...are you different? From the other humans? Or are you just like them?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I think…” Quizlivan said, “That we’re… more alike than we are different. We all want the same things. I think we all just… the world is dying around us, and we’re just… trying so hard to be happy.”

“That’s dangerous,” Morgani said.

“Wanting to be happy?” Quizzy frowned, “Yeah you’re… you’re never happy.”

“I’m often happy,” Morgan argued and pulled him closer, “You make me happy. But it’s dangerous to try to be happy, to seek it out. I tried to be happy, once.”

“When you left?” Quizzy asked.

“That’s not what I mean,” Morgan’s dark eyebrows knitted together in his pale forehead, “I mean… happiness shouldn’t be a goal. It’s… part of a range of emotions. It isn’t a state to aspire to. It’s something to experience.”

“You’re… quite the experience,” Quizlivan smiled.

“So many creatures here,” Morgani said, laying his hand over Quizlivan’s heart, “seem… to know what you’re doing. There’s nothing holding you back. You are who you are and you do what you do and you live or die on your own terms. You… chose to come with me. No one else did.”

“I go off by myself all the time,” Quizlivan said, “That’s what I do. I go and look for stuff and tell everybody about it and then Ahnah knows what to do. We all do different stuff so we can all… I don’t want to say, ‘be happy’ because you’re being weird about it, but you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Morgani said. “You came with me because you had a job to do.”

“And because I wanted to come,” Quizzy said, “You’re interesting. Everybody loves your stories. And… I think you’re going to leave, eventually. You just don’t… seem like you want to stay with us.”

“Are you in love with Ahnah?” Morgan asked, “You spend a lot of time with her.”

“Yeah!” Quizlivan smiled, “She’s great! I think she’s the smartest person in the tribe. The way she talked down those wolves… she does stuff like that all the time. I love her a lot. I love a lot of people. We just… have to make it through this cold snap. It… the older people say it wasn’t always cold. And that means it’ll warm up again. Everything that has been dying, the plants, the animals, they’ll come back. We just have to wait. Eventually it’ll warm up again.”

“You’re all getting smarter,” Morgani said, “Did you know that?”

“All of us?” Quizlivan asked.

“Yes… you’re nothing like what I read about you. I was told, by the people who imprisoned me, that humans were… primitive. Lumbering, hairy beasts that dwelt in treetops. You’re getting smarter.”

“I think a lot of the stupid people just died,” Quizlivan said, “It’s getting harder to get by… and we are pretty hairy. Hairier than you. You’ve got nothing. No beard, no chest fur… you’re like a little kid.”

“Elves don’t have body hair,” Morgani said.

“Where’s the rest of your tribe, Morgan?” Quizlivan asked, dropping his playful tone. “You shouldn’t be alone. Are they looking for you?”

Morgan sighed and may have looked away. It was difficult to tell with his strange, dark eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I call out to them and no one answers. I am looking for them.”

“You’ll find them,” Quizlivan said, as if he knew it to be a fact.

“Aren’t you cold?” Morgani asked, “It’s getting dark. You want me to show you how to light a fire?”

“I know how to light a fire,” Quizlivan said, “I was the one who said for us to gather wood and kindling. I did that. You were there. I think I might have rattled your brain. First time does that sometimes; you aren’t the first person to tell me that.”

“I wouldn’t deny it, if I was asked,” Morgani laughed. He slid out from under the skins and began to gather his clothing, and Quizlivan watched the flesh of his back, taking in the deep scars there. They were strange; some of them were old, ancient, yet they seemed to be healing. It seemed as if he would, eventually, have smooth skin again.

“But that’s not what I meant,” Morgani said, dug around in his bag, and produced the small, red crystal Quizlivan had seen him use earlier. “I was asking if you want to learn how to work magic.”

“Is it going to hurt?” Quizlivan asked as he crawled out the opening of the small house after Morgani, to the place where they had arranged the wood for their campfire.

“No,” Morgani assured him, “Not this time. Give me your hand.”

Quizlivan held out his hand, and Morgani took it in his own. He dropped the crystal into Quizlivan’s open palm, and Quizlivan felt the world around him instantly change. He felt the fire from his own heart, the heat moving through his blood, and more faintly, he felt it moving from Mogan’s heart as he moved behind him to take his other hand, to guide him. He felt a great fire, a great power, below him and did not understand how it didn’t melt the snow. No snow should have been able to lie on the ground above such an intense flame. He felt a fire burning in the sky above him, and thought it was the sun, though it was night and the sun had long since disappeared, still he felt it, shining down on him with flames so powerful he was afraid it would tear him apart. His blood pushed back, against all of these things, and he was worried his flesh would not be able to contain it.

“You feel that?” Morgani asked, and Quizzlivan nodded.

“It’s… baby, it’s so much…”

“I know,” Morgani assured him and gently kissed his temple, “When you first start out, it’s difficult to control. So what I want you to do is, open this hand toward the wood. And feel that power pressing inside of you, trying to get out. Let it out, and think of fire. But, listen to me, Quizzy, not all of it. It’s hard to regulate it, but you can do it. I believe in you. Let just the tiniest bit of it out, less than you think you need, and think of fire.”

Quizlivan tried to direct the force he felt inside of him to his hand, and jumped backwards against the tall, strong force that was Morgani’s body. A flame had appeared in his hand.

“Perfect,” Morgani praised. “I… I’ll be honest, Quizzy, I thought you would create a cone of fire. I was ready to put it out. I didn’t… think you could get it this right the first time.”

“I thought you believed in me,” Quizlivan giggled.

“I did,” Morgani said, “I do. It’s just… hard to control.”

Quizlivan leaned forward to stick his hand with the flame into the middle of the cone of sticks they had built and watched them catch.

“Now cut it off,” Morgani said gently, “cut off the flow of the magic. Can you do that? It… it wants so badly to get out, it’s difficult to-”

Quizlivan waved his hand and the flame extinguished.

“I got it, babe,” he wrapped one arm around Morgani to cuddle into him and held the crystal out for him to take.

“No,” Morgani said, “No you… you keep that. It’s a gift.”

“It’s so tiny…” Quizlivan said, “I might lose it.”

“Then give it back,” Morgani said, softly, “and I’ll put it into something for you. Something that would be more difficult to lose.”

“Thanks,” Quizlivan smiled and stared up at him, then tugged him down for another kiss. Morgani seemed to be getting smarter, too. He was learning quickly.