Chapter 11 – Tawnahowac Village

	It seemed impossible after the last month I’d spent in the world, after my life had so fundamentally changed, that home would not be similarly changed.  But there it was, almost precisely as I remembered.
	We made it to the river late the next day and followed it several more hours, already beginning to see all the familiar places I’d known growing up.  The water was icing over fast, but I could still see signs of my tribe, markers etched into boulders along the banks, remnants of deer trails we used to forage and even occasionally hunt, and eel weirs cutting the river into sharp V formations in places.  We passed spots I remembered where we’d taken down beaver dams, fallen trees I recalled clearing and hauling home and foraging spots where in warmer months, we’d found blueberries.
	The waves of nostalgia and warmth washing over me would perhaps not have been so strong if not for the hardship I’d endured on this trip.  But as things stood, I was just so glad to be home.  As the promises of familiar comfort grew nearer, I began to wonder why I’d ever left.
	And then I spotted the first of the longhouses in the distance and my heart lifted.  I could see trails of smoke rising, I could smell roasting pine nuts and fish, and I could hear voices on the wind.  My language.
	It’s the first time I’d not felt like I was out of place in a month.  I can’t tell you how comforting that was.
	The first of my family members we were greeted by were two young otters, Amka and Panuk, siblings from one of my uncles’ families.  In a way, they were my cousins.  But I considered most everyone in my tribe to be my cousins, really. 
	The two were out ice fishing in the waning hours and seemed shocked to see us coming out of the wood line.  Panuk rose and stared across the snow-covered reeds towards us for a time, before shouting my name and bounding across the bank towards us.
	As he drew near, he began to slow, catching sight of our strange group.  Only for a moment, though.  “Tulimak!”  He said again, huffing out breaths of air through his whiskers.  “Your father will be so surprised- you are early!  And,” he glanced past me for a moment, “bring us. . . guests.”  He seemed uncertain about the last bit, perhaps a bit nervous, but Panuk had always been curious about outsiders, so I knew he’d give them the benefit of the doubt.  Behind him, still lingering near the shoreline, was Amka.  She looked considerably more worried.
	Most of the women in our tribe were more wary of Otherwolves and outsiders in general.  I couldn’t blame them.  We’d had. . . well suffice it to say, we did not send the women into the nearby Otherwolf town to trade, any more.  Not even supervised.
	Speaking of the town. . . .
	I glanced past him for a moment, unable not to take note of the new structure that had risen up along the banks of the river, nearby.  It looked half-constructed and strange, with an enormous water wheel.  I’d seen mills before, of course.  The Otherwolves had perfected some kind of method to grinding their maize and other grains harnessing water.  It was fascinating.
	But that structure hadn’t stood just a month ago, when I’d left.  And it was quite far from the Otherwolf settlement.
	On our land.
	A lot of trees seem to have been cleared for a field as well, which stretched the distance between the new construction and the distant settlers.  Had they laid claim to all of that, already?  Why had my otterfa allowed it?
	Panuk was still looking up at and past me, expectantly.  I realized belatedly I hadn’t yet answered him.
	“Yes, sorry,” I shook my head.  I gestured behind me.  “Odina and her family, and. . . ah. . . Finnegan. . . must speak with my father.”
	“Are they here to trade?”  He asked uncertainly.  
	“No,” I said, clearing my throat.  “It’s hard to explain.  It concerns Otherwolf matters.”
	“Ah,” Panuk nodded, gathering his cloak around his shoulders.  “Well then, if it’s alright, Amka and I will move on ahead and let him know of your arrival.  And your guests.  We will welcome you near the canoes.”
	I nodded.  “Thank you Panuk.”
	He headed back towards Amka, glancing back once before speaking lowly to her.  They gathered their things and began moving along the bank, towards our village.  When I turned back to the group, Finnegan was looking back at me curiously and Odina was still staring out towards the Otherwolf town, for some reason.
	“That was all Huudari to me,” Finn cleared his throat.
	I blinked at him a moment, then realized what he must have meant.  “Oh.  Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, it’s just that only a few of us in the tribe speak Amurescan.”
	“I caught your name,” he approached, “that was about it.  No need to apologize, by the way.  I’m the unilingual prat, here.”
	“We didn’t discuss anything important so far,” I assured him.  “My cousin was just asking why I brought guests home, whether you’re here to trade-“
	“Your ‘cousin’?”  Finn balked, looking back down the river at the two otters as they walked off.  
	“Well not by blood, obviously,” I reasoned.
	“Wait a minute,” he huffed out a brief, dry laugh.  “Are they all. . . otters?”
	“My tribe?”  I asked.  “Well. . . yes.  Other than me.  I told you I was adopted.”
	“I thought you meant by other bears,” Finnegan exclaimed.
	“We should move on,” Odina spoke up, walking past us down towards the river.  Sawyer followed, his gaze also on the mill for a while, for some reason.
	He looked to me.  “I don’t remember that bein’ here last we was about these parts to trade.”
	“No, it’s new,” I said.  “Very new.  It wasn’t even here when I left home.  It’s going up fast.”
	“Mmmhhh,” the mountain lion gave a strange noise of discomfort.  
	“What?”  I asked warily.  “What aren’t you saying?”
	“I think ya know,” he said with a tip of his hat, before hustling off to catch up to his mother.
	Finnegan moved beside me, looking up to me uncertainly.  He said nothing, but I could sense he had something he just wasn’t putting to words.
	“Finn-“
	“Look, I don’t know the laws in this country,” he sighed.  “But it’s odd they’d be building in the winter, is all.”
	“What do you think it means?”  I asked, suspecting I already knew the answer.
	“A land grab,” he said matter-of-factly.  “That’d be my guess, anyway.  They’re clearly trying to race the clock on something.”
	I set my jaw, looking at the unfinished mill in the distance.  “Thanks for sharing your insight,” I said quietly.
	Finnegan put his hands up.  “Like I said, I don’t know for sure.  But. . . yes, I’d worry.  The whole thing is odd.”
	I puffed out a breath into the cold air.  “I wish your visit here were under better circumstances.  My father could probably glean a lot from an Otherwolf as clever as you are.”
	He laughed, which I hadn’t heard in days.  I liked the sound of it.  “Trust me, I’m hardly all that clever,” he insisted.  “Just well-traveled.  And I know my people a bit better than you do, for obvious reasons.”
	We began walking, following in Odina and Sawyer’s wake.  At length, he asked, “So otters, huh?  Picturing you growing up amongst a whole family of otters is. . . I’m not gonna lie. . . really cute.”
	I blanched, then nodded.  “There was a fox that stayed with us for a time, a few seasons back.  And a weasel a few years before that.  Both tribal refugees.”
	He made a face.  “I suppose that must be happening more and more.”
	“More and more tribes dissolve every year,” I nodded.  “Odina had a tribe once, too.  I remember they moved through these parts, following the herds, when I was a child.  They’ve always traded with us- everyone trades with us, but each year there’s been less and less of them.  We thought they were all gone and moved on until Odina started coming each season to trade, starting a few years ago.  I guess. . . probably around the time she must have had her daughter.”
	“Some kind of awful story there too, I’d wager,” Finn said grimly.
	“She doesn’t seem the sort to share stories, as we do,” I said.  “But yes.  I doubt she’d be raising her children alone now if she had any choice.”
	He walked beside me in silence for another few beats, before speaking again.  “Are you alright?”
	I hung my head, “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.”
	“Why not?”  He asked simply.  “You should be over the moon to be home, right?  Is it just the mill that’s got you suddenly upset?”
	“No, I-“ I opened and closed my jaw a few times.  “I. . . it just occurred to me that since Broen, I’ve been walking you towards what we were previously running away from.  I feel like I’m-“
	“Escorting me to the gallows?”
	I whipped my head around to stare at him, shocked.  He just gave an easy smile and a shrug.  “What choice did you have?”  He reasoned.  “I don’t blame you, Tulimak.  I know you think your father’s going to help-“
	“But you don’t believe he will,” I said, unquestioningly.  “You haven’t, this whole time.”
	His only response was telling silence.
	“You haven’t run away,” I said, my hands beginning to shake.  “Why?  Why come along without protest, all this way, if you thought I was just. . . just. . . .”  
	 He glanced aside, at nothing in particular.  Just away from me.  
	“Finn, what?”
	“I’m afraid if I answer you,” he sighed, “you won’t believe me.  You don’t. . . trust me anymore.”
	“You said you wouldn’t hide things from me anymore,” I reminded him.  “If you want me to trust you-“
	“I wanted to make sure you got home,” he said, cutting me off.  He finally looked back into my eyes.  “Alright?  What. . . whatever happens from this point forward, at least I can say I didn’t ruin your life.  If I feel like things are going to go south here, I’m not going to lie to you, I probably will run.  Again.”
	“Will you fight Odina?”  I asked softly, knowing the mountain lions far ahead of us had keen hearing.
	“Not if I can avoid it,” he muttered.
	“. . . I have your weapon,” I reminded him after a long pause.
	“I know Tulimak,” he sighed, “I gave it to you.  I said ‘run’.  I set out to do this thing to save lives.  Or make myself feel better about my own wasted life, I hardly know any more.  In any case, I’m done taking.  If I can make it to Arbordale on wit and tenacity alone, I will.”
	“Even I think that isn’t realistic,” I said soberly.
	“Maybe not,” he agreed.  “But I’ve had nothing but my sins to think on over the last few days, and it’s been harder to push them off my conscience than usual.  At what point does any of this stop being worth it?”  He wondered aloud.
	“I. . . don’t know,” I admitted.  “Your sire is selling people like livestock.  I don’t know how to measure an. . . evil. . . like that.  Let alone how many lives would be worth stopping it.”
	“Me either,” he shook his head.  “And I’m tired of torturing myself over it.  It’s simpler this way.”  He gave me a tired smile.  “I’m just glad nothing else went wrong before we got you home.  I look forward to meeting your otter family.” 
	My hands were still shaking.  This happened to me sometimes, had been happening several times a day over the last week, and I didn’t know how or why.  My body would shake, my chest tightening until it felt like I couldn’t breathe, sometimes I’d take greedy gulps of air and wait for the feelings to pass, sometimes it would get worse before it got better.  I could blame it on the injuries I’d sustained, the exhaustion, the tonic I was drinking. . . but the fact was, this had been happening to a lesser extent since I was a young cub.  It’s just that nothing had tested me as much as the last few weeks had, and it was getting worse.
	When it happened everything just piled up in my mind, and I felt like my world was narrowing.  Everything felt hopeless and desperate, like only the worst things I could imagine were going to happen.
	I’d just been so happy, not moments ago, to make it home.  Why was this happening now?
	I tried to keep my mind focused on the thought of seeing my family.  Soon.  So soon.  My otterfa would know what to do.
	My family would resolve this.  I could leave the decision-making to someone else.

	“Panuk told me you had returned, but I hardly believed it!”  
	I was engulfed by my family almost the moment I arrived on the shore adjoining our village.  My father was the first to greet me, dressed down in his evening parka and long breech cloth.  Most of my siblings were similar attired, suggesting they’d been at dinner.
	My father allowed my brothers and sisters to crowd around me and embrace me one by one before he did the same, doing so with an earnest smile.  That smile faded however, after he came in close and drew a breath through his nose.
	“Son,” he reached up for my shoulder, resting a paw just below the edge of my cloak, “you’re injured.”
	“It isn’t bad,” I placed my other paw over his.  “It’s healing well.”
	“It is no small wound,” he said, slowly lifting my cloak back, gingerly revealing the healing burn.  When he saw it he seemed even more concerned, and dropped his voice.  “This has something to do with your guests, I would wager.”
	I nodded with a sigh.  “I’m sorry for bringing them to the village unannounced-“
	He cut me off with a wave of his paw.  “Never mind that.  I’ll judge once I know the full tale whether there’s any need to admonish.  Right now, simply assure me two things,” he looked past me to where my companions were waiting further down the shore, near the long line of covered canoes.  He looked back to me.  “Odina, I know.  She is welcome here.  The canine. . . the Otherwolf. . . is he dangerous?”
	That, of course, was a question I’d been asking myself since a week ago.  But I only hesitated a moment, remembering the pistol stowed in my bag.  “He gave up his weapon before we made it here,” I said.  “His pistol,” I amended, since that hadn’t been specific.
	My otterfa’s eyes widened.  “He gave you a firearm?”
	“I have a lot to explain to you,” I said exhaustedly.
	“Chieftain Takoda,” Odina called from behind us, slowly setting her basket and bags down.  “My family and I only wish to make camp on your land.  We’ll not intrude on your hospitality.  But we need to pitch camp before the sun is entirely set.”
	My father looked past me to the mountain lioness and nodded.  “As ever, you are welcome,” he said.  “There is an unfinished pit house in the north field, near the ponies.  It would do.”
	“Thank you, chieftain,” the woman nodded to her son.  The two began to gather their things to leave, but oddly before she did, I saw her clap a hand on Finn’s shoulder and say something to him too quietly for me to hear.  Then she spoke up again, calling towards us, “We will return to speak after darkness has fallen.  Not long after.”
	The mountain lion family made their way through the reeds out towards the pony field, and Finnegan, now alone, hesitantly approached me and my family.  
	There were six otters in my immediate family, and absolutely all of them were staring at him.  My brothers Tarkik and Yutu were both grown with families of their own now, although they’d come down to meet me without them, for now.  Likely because their pups were so young.  They went everywhere together, and both looked equally wary and protective of my sisters.  But then, that had always been the case.
	My sister Alasie was the youngest, younger even than Sawyer, but easily the boldest of my siblings.  She was still standing at my side, her immature features set in a serious expression she was still far too adorable to wear well, but the implication was clear.  She’d heard about, (or smelled) my injury and she’d always been very protective of me.  She’d also always had good intuition, and I think she suspected Finnegan of wrongdoing against me, because her brown-eyed gaze was pinned on him accusatorily.  
	Kirima and Nujua, both a few years younger than me, were at that age where they were preoccupied with men, more than anything else.  They were whispering excitedly to one another, standing off to the side.  I didn’t need to take a guess what it was they were talking about, because they too were staring at Finn.
	To be fair. . . I was no better.
	“Father,” I cleared my throat, “this is Finnegan Ambrose.”
	My sisters giggled when I said his name, which to his credit, Finn only smiled at.  He was taking being gawked at in stride.
	“Finn,” I accidentally shortened his name without thinking about it, which again prompted a muffled chuckle from Kirima.  Well, they could make of that what they would.  I gestured to my father, “This is my otterfa- my father.  Chieftain Takoda, of the Tawnahowac Tribe.”
	Finnegan folded an arm across his midsection and gave a shallow bow.  “Sir.  It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
	“ ‘Finally’,” my father repeated, looking to me with an arched eyebrow.
	“Your son has spoken of you many times since I made his acquaintance,” he explained.  “Fondly.  Very fondly.”
	“I must apologize if my words are not as comprehensive as yours,” my father annunciated the word ‘comprehensive’ with no trace of accent.  He’d gotten better, even in the time I’d been away.  “Our Amurescan is learned purely through trade.”
	Finnegan seemed humbled.  “I. . . am in awe of your grasp of our language sir, I must be frank.  Your son also speaks it exceptionally well.”
	“My father taught us all,” I said.
	“A necessity in our mixing cultures,” my father nodded.  “I would imagine he has learned even more about your language and your world since coming to know you, sir.”  His voice was friendly, but there was an undertone there, almost an accusation. 
	Finnegan didn’t miss it.  “Ah. . . yes.”
	“Do you wear the thing on your head to make you look taller?”  My youngest sister blurted out.
	Finn glanced up at his frayed hat, then slowly removed it, looking it over as though even he’d forgotten it was there.  “I’m not actually sure why we wear these,” he admitted.  “But that might be it.  I just always thought they looked rather fine.”
	My father looked as though he was about to stop her from saying more, but my sister beat him to the punch.  “Do you hide things in it?” She asked.  “I would hide things in it.”
	Finn huffed out a laugh, and tipped the hat upside down, then showed her the inside.  “Afraid not.  Although that’s a grand idea.  I’ll consider it in the future.”
	“Alright, all of you, back to the longhouse,” my father gestured at the small gathering.  “The fish will be done by now.  Go help your aunts.”
	Slowly but surely, my family began to disperse and make their way back towards the village and the communal longhouse.  The last to leave was Alasie, who eventually had to be led away by Tarkik.  She seemed hesitant to leave my side.
	“I’ll be there soon,” I told her.  “I’ll see you before you sleep.  I promise.”
	Once my siblings were gone, I leaned down to Finnegan, asking quietly, “What was that Odina said to you before she left?”
	“Oh,” he snorted softly.  “You know.  ‘Try to sneak off and we’ll hunt you down’.  Something along those lines.  Worded less friendly.  Woman’s not one for profanity or exaggeration, but she is dreadfully blunt.”
	My father was staring us down.  For some reason, I’d forgotten he was right there and very capable of understanding us.  And apparently, so had Finn.  It’s not as though I would have kept this from him, but it hadn’t exactly been the best way to reveal what was going on.
	The graying river otter narrowed his eyes at the both of us, then pinned me with a look only a father of six children could perfect to the degree he had.
	He said precisely one word.  “Explain.”

	We spoke to my father for nearly an hour.  We were eventually joined by Odina, but she had little to add we hadn’t already told my father.  I felt it best we explain as much as possible, including Finnegan’s history, because we knew she’d arrive in time and I didn’t want it to seem as though we were hiding anything.
	Moreover, I didn’t want to hide anything from my otterfa.  I wanted him to know as much as possible, because I was still struggling to know what to do, and I wanted him to have all the facts.    
	Well. . . most of the facts.
	I don’t know why I’d been expecting he’d have all the answers.  Let alone arrive at them that night.  But I suppose I’d always looked to my father for absolute guidance, and some part of me really had expected he’d immediately have insight that would solve the situation, in some way that wouldn’t hurt so very badly.
	Instead, he listened silently most of the hour, only speaking to ask questions and when we’d related all we could think to, he sat in contemplative silence for a long time.  Eventually, he took out his pipe, packing it with an ample amount of tobacco.
	Finn leaned over to me, asking quietly, “Is this some kind of tradition?”
	“No, sir,” my father answered him flatly, “I just need a smoke, after hearing all of that.”
	“Ha. . . fair enough,” Finnegan reasoned, ears falling flat.
	“I’d like to see these ledgers you spoke of,” Odina surprised us all by speaking up.  So far she hadn’t said a thing since she’d joined us, in time to hear Finnegan’s tale of his father’s dealings in the south.  
	Both Finnegan and I looked at her, and I was glad to see he was as surprised as I.  “Uh, sure,” he said, gesturing to his bag.  “I have nothing to hide.”  
	The mountain lioness nodded.  “I’ll read them tomorrow by the light of the sun.  My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
	Finn looked to me uncertainly and I could see the question there.  It was confusing me, too.  Neither of us had thought the terse woman would take particular interest in his family’s dealings.
	She wasn’t offering us any answers as to why she was curious, though.  And a moment later she dispelled any notion that his story may have forced her to reconsider her position.  “We’ll be taking the Amurescan off your hands in a few days’ time, once we’ve re-supplied.  I’d like to move south before the worst of the weather really sets in, or before anyone else in these parts happens to realize the price on his head and we’ve competition to contend with.”
	“You speak as though the situation is already decided,” my father spoke evenly, tapping his pipe over his knee.  
	“I trust you will come to the right decision, given a few days to consider,” Odina said matter-of-factly.  
	“You assume then that you are in the right,” my otterfa said with an arched, whiskered eyebrow.
	“I don’t assume,” she said, standing stiffly.  “I simply know.  It is the only right decision for the safety of your family and your tribe.  Harboring this Otherwolf will only bring you troubles, Takoda.  You know that.”
	She began to ascend the ladder up to the surface.  We were in my father’s pit house now, where he mediated matters with the tribe and prayed.  It was a small dwelling and not comfortable for those of us who had to stoop under the low clearance of the clay-caked log roof.  But we had a larger, deeper-dug pit house for the family, where I would join them later to say goodnight to my sisters.
	Silence descended on the house after she left.  The smoke from my father’s pipe wafted up and collected in curls along the ceiling, or passed through the small smoke hole in the top of the roof.  Favors from various other tribes and mediations my father had overseen in the past adorned the walls, the fire in the center of the room crackled with the familiar woodsmoke of the local kindling, and everywhere here smelled of my family, of otters.
	I should have felt so at ease.  I was home.  I was home.
	But I was coiled like a fiddlehead fern, my heart in my throat, wanting my father to say something. . . anything. . . to alleviate the disquiet in my heart.  It felt like he’d been silent so long now, but I knew in actuality it had probably been very little time.
	“Otterfa-“ I began.
	“I’ll need time to think on this, Tulimak,” he said with a long exhale, blowing out a trail of smoke.  “There is much to consider.”
	“For what it’s worth,” Finn spoke up, his paws on his knees, muzzle down.  “I agree with her.  My presence here is a danger to you and your family.”
	I looked at him, baffled and dismayed.  “What are you suggesting?”  I said, the words tumbling out of me.  “If you were just going to give up, this whole time-“
	“I am not,” he sighed, “giving up, Tulimak.  But there’s no use denying the truth.”
	“Why would anyone look for you here?”  I asked, spreading a paw in the air.
	“Bounty hunters, people like Odina,” he said, “this is their trade.  They’re good at it.  I don’t know how, but they’ve found me several times already.”
	“What was this all for, then?!”
	“Tuli, calm down-“ he eased, glancing at my father.
	“Yes, please calm yourself, son,” my father said, in a stern, loud enough tone that it reminded me of being a cub and shut me up immediately.  I closed my muzzle reflexively, digging my claws into the bundled cloak in my lap.  
	My father looked to Finn and continued speaking, “I respect your honesty and concern for my family,” he said.  “But please extend that concern in this moment to my son, as well.  He is clearly emotional.”
	I felt his eyes on me at that, and couldn’t bring myself to look up.  “Tulimak,” the older otter said, leaning forward and tipping my chin up, forcing me to look at him.  “You are in pain, and this trip, I fear, has been too much for you.  I think before we speak any further on this. . .” he looked to Finn, “. . . very precarious situation you have found yourself in, thanks to this new friend of yours. . . .”
	“I’m hardly going to deny that, “ Finn said, unflinching.
	“I think it would be best for us to approach this mediation with cooler, more rested heads,” my otterfa reasoned.  “It is late, you have both been traveling, and if I might say so, the smell of the road is fairly. . . strong. . . on both of you.”
	“Oh Lord,” Finnegan wrinkled his nose, “I am so sorry.  You get inured to your own scent over time.”
	My father stood and gestured to the ladder out.  “Tulimak,” he approached me and put a comforting paw on my arm, “why don’t you show your friend to the springs, for now.  You can come see your sisters afterwards, I’m certain they’ll be too excited to sleep for some time.  You can spend a bit with the family before you turn in for the night.”  He smiled.  “We’ve reinforced your roof for the winter in your absence, and I’ll send someone over to get a fire started.”
	He leaned in and embraced me, the warm, familiar feeling of his arms around me sinking into my bones and making the reality of being home all the more visceral.  I hugged him back, wishing I hadn’t grown so much larger than him.  I missed the days when he could envelop me in his arms and make me feel safe.
	But perhaps it was time I let go of that yearning.
	“I’m so glad you made it back to us safely,” he said quietly, before slowly slipping away from me and looking to Finnegan.  “And you have my gratitude sir, for the part you played in that.”
	Finnegan scratched the back of one of his ears, holding his hat in his other hand.  “I’m the reason your son was endangered at all.”
	“I very much doubt you could have forced Tulimak to accompany you,” the older otter ascertained.  “He may seem soft and docile, but my bearchild has a stubborn streak.”
	“Yes, I’ve. . . had occasion to witness it,” Finn said, glancing at me with a quiet smile.
	“It is a quality I prefer all my children have, if possible,” my father said.  “The world my generation is passing on to them will bow and break you if you do not have that strength of will necessary to stand your ground, and know your own mind.”
	We made our way back up to ground level, on the clay bank.  Our village was built into an area of particularly hard-packed clay soil, a short distance from the river where it never flooded.  The earth here was perfect for pit homes to be dug and maintain their shape for some time, but still close enough to the shore that going for water was a short trip.  
	I walked Finnegan through the home I’d grown up in for all of my life that I could remember.  It was a bit surreal.  Since I’d met him, it felt in a way as though my story had been separated into two parts- my life before Finnegan, and after.  I think some part of my mind had assumed that the two would never meet.  
	We walked through the field of pit homes and into the village center, where most of my tribe was still gathered in the communal longhouses for their evening meal.  This time of year, the longhouses were insulated with caribou furs over the doors, but I still saw many of my tribe peering out to catch sight of the newcomer.
	“So, I noticed that your father said ‘spring’,” Finnegan said, “not ‘bath’.”
	“The spring is where we bathe when necessary,” I explained.  “The water there is not good to drink, but it is medicinal for the outside of the body.  The fur, the skin, the claws-“
	“Alright, magical healing waters- why not?”  He shrugged.  “I’ll buy that.  I’ve heard this land has all sorts of exotic treatments for what ails you.  But I’m more concerned that most springs I’ve ever visited have been. . . freezing. . . .”
	“Our spring is special,” I said with a slight smile.  “It’s why our ancestors built the village here.  The fishing is good too, but the spring was why we settled here.  There is a tale, if you’d care to hear it.”
	“It better be real special,” Finnegan grumbled.  “Or this is turning into a military bath.  I have been freezing and wet enough lately.”
	“You’ll see.”

	“Ohhhh myyyy gooooooodddddd. . . .”  the wolfdog moaned, sinking down into the waters of the Ghost Fish Spring.  It was named thusly for the spirit said to inhabit it, which churned the waters and created bubbles, when nothing had ever been seen living in its waters.  
	The spring was actually several pits in the earth, ringed with strange, almost otherworldly colors that adorned the rocks and crept out along the edges where the water lapped.  The waters themselves smelled strangely and occasionally churned, and were never safe to drink.  Sometimes they weren’t even safe to bathe in, growing far too hot.  But that was thankfully rare and usually easy to discern before you got in.
	The most important part was- the water in these springs was warm.  Very warm.  Some in my tribe found them too hot for their liking even when they were tolerable, but I found if you eased down into it, it lessened the discomfort.  
	Finnegan, once he’d realized what this place was, had all but flung his clothing off with a speed I hadn’t even known him capable of, and submerged himself nearly all at once.  And he didn’t seem to regret it.  I took considerably more time to do so, as usual.
	“Uhhhhhhh,” the canine groaned once more, leaning back and dipping back his head until all but his muzzle and part of his face were submerged.  
	I smiled a little.  “Good?”
	“You grew up with this in your back yard?”  He asked incredulously.  “Bloody hell Tuli, I think you might be right.”
	“About. . . ?”  I asked uncertainly.
	“About me staying here,” he mumbled, “’harboring’ me and all.  You’re right.  Don’t let them take me away.  Just keep me here.  Forever.  In fact, I’ll just stay right here in this spring.  They’ll never f-hindh m-he herehhhhh-“  He sunk further into the water on the last words, bubbles rising from his nose.
	I snorted through my nose.  “You probably shouldn’t swallow that,” I cautioned through a smile.  
	“Blimey, where’ve I heard that before?”  He muttered, now floating in the water, only his paws and face above the surface.
	“Huh?”
	“You really are the dearest, most innocent lad,” he chuckled.
	I had no idea what was amusing him so much, but it felt good to laugh again, to see him put on antics again, so I joined him in chuckling.  The two of us laughed back and forth, really just tired, delirious laughter for a bit, for no real reason.  
	It felt so good.  There was a release in it, in being able to be lighthearted with him again, even if it was only because I was briefly forgetting the situation we were in.  The truth was, I’d wanted so hard since everything had gone sour between us to forgive him.  And he’d done everything right, apologized and been contrite, even going farther than I’d wanted and confessing to my family not only of his past, but that he’d put me in danger.  Risking their disapproval. . . the people who were ultimately going to determine his fate.
	Even I wouldn’t have asked him to do that.  But he had.  And he had nothing to gain from it, no matter how I thought about it.  He was just earnestly remorseful.
	It was hard to square all of that, to really make sense of the man I’d come to know, with the past he’d admitted to.  But it had also been hard to imagine the person hunting us, who’d shot me and haunted us all those nights we’d spent running from her, was a mother of two just trying to feed her children the only way she knew how.
	The world was complicated and people even more so.  All of this had been hard, but it felt overdue.  I wasn’t a child any more.
	Maybe I wasn’t supposed to make sense of it all at once.  There was a sort of release in thinking that way.  It made me feel less like I was failing at something.  At understanding.  And with the haze of all that confusion fading, it was actually easier to know my own mind, to see what my true feelings were.
	I knew a few things very clearly.  I loved my family.  I was glad to have returned to them, but I also felt as though I’d changed too much in the last month for us to ever go back to how things had been before.  That thought didn’t frighten me as much as I thought it would.
	It was also very clear to me now that going out into the world, not just meeting Finnegan, is what had ultimately brought those changes forth.  And I didn’t regret that.  Life here in our village was safe, familiar, protected. . . and unchanging.
	I wasn’t sure that was all I wanted any more.
	I also knew, no matter how conflicted I was over him, that Finnegan. . . made me happy.  Denying it was pointless.  I enjoyed his company, I enjoyed talking to him, I felt things for him I’d never felt before, and I wanted very badly to protect him.
	That was where reality came crashing back down on me.  Even here in the warm spring waters, floating beside him staring up at the stars, the inevitability of his situation was poised over us like an archer with an arrow knocked.  My father would try, of that I was certain, but what possible outcome could there be for him?  I couldn’t ask my family to endanger themselves for one foreign man.  I couldn’t even justify it to myself.
	Even if I could forgive Finnegan, even if I could wrap my mind around how a man could be so many things at once to me- what would it matter if he were soon gone?

	I spent an hour with my family that night, talking to my sisters and eventually convincing the youngest that it was time to sleep.  She insisted I wrap her up in her furs, which of course I did.  
	My father made us peppermint tea afterwards and I sat with him for a short time, talking.  He deliberately avoided the most important issue at hand, because he knew me by now and knew when I went to sleep troubled, I would hardly sleep at all.  
	Finnegan had nowhere else to go, so he’d come along with me and sat on the lower rungs of the ladder into my family’s pit house, watching us in quiet calm.  He couldn’t understand a word we were saying, seeing as we spoke our own language in our home, but he seemed content just to be warm.  The ladder was near the fire where it arced down towards the center of the dwelling.  
	“He’ll need to stay with you,” my father said after sipping his tea, shaking his whiskers a bit.  “I won’t ask any of the other men to put him up with their families, and your dwelling is the deepest.  He’s not quite so large as you, but still a might taller than all of us.”
	I nodded.  “We’ve shared closer quarters throughout this trip,” I assured him.  “I’m not worried about having him in my home.”
	“Mmmhh, he seems amiable and polite enough,” he agreed.  “As Otherwolves go, you could have befriended worse.  And I say that knowing he’s a murderer.”
	“Otterfa,” I said, somewhat aghast.
	“Tulimak, you’re a man now,” he shook his head at me.  “I can be honest with you about the world.”
	“Fine, then,” I said, calling his bluff.  “I know you don’t want to talk about anything else dismal tonight, but I want one answer before I sleep.  The Mill.”
	He looked down into his tea, as if he’d seen this coming.
	“And the forest they’ve cleared,” I continued.  “Finnegan thinks it might be their way of claiming our land.”
	“That is precisely what they are doing,” he confirmed, stoically.
	“How could you let that happen?”  I asked, keeping my voice down so as not to wake my sisters.  “I thought you knew some of the Otherwolves in town.  We’ve traded with them. . . learned their language. . . I thought we had some measure of their respect.  Wasn’t that the point?”
	“Tulimak, I. . .”  He stopped for a few moments, gripping his tea cup with both hands.  “We have made some mistakes. . . in our dealings with them, over the years.  Mistakes you and your brothers and sisters will inherit, I fear.”
	“What does that mean?”  I asked.
	He let out a breath, slowly.  “Long before my time, the Otherwolves fought a war against their mother nation.  They wished to govern themselves.  When that happened, the Tribal Alliance was founded.  Many tribes joined in the Otherwolves’ war effort to liberate themselves from Amuresca.  Many chose no to.  Those that did. . . when they ultimately won. . . became a part of their Nation.”  He looked up at me.  “The Tawnahowac Tribe did not join the war effort.  It was believed then, and I cannot disagree, that the Otherwolves’ problems were their own, and it was best not to get involved.  We are not part of the ‘Tribal Alliance’ founded all those years ago.”
	“We’re on good terms with every tribe I know,” I reasoned.  “No one has warred with us in generations, we trade with tribal folk and Otherwolves alike-“
	“All of that may be true,” he said, “but it does not change how the Carvecians- the Otherwolves that broke free of their mother country and founded the new government here- feel about us.  We are, in essence, non-persons in our own land.”
	“That doesn’t. . . what?”  I asked, uncertain I’d heard him right.
	“We are not citizens, Tulimak,” he said quietly.  “Not of their nation.  We have no say in their government.”
	“Their government is. . . new,” I reasoned, still not understanding.  “We’ve been here for many, many generations longer.  We have our own alliances, our own gathers.”
	“They are claiming this land is theirs now,” he stated.  “All of it falls under their laws.”
	“Our land too?” I asked, eyes widening.
	“All of it, Tulimak.  All of it.”

	“So what exactly does that mean?”  Finnegan asked as we descended the reinforced log ladder down into my dwelling.  I hadn’t been inside in nearly a month now, but it was clear my family had maintained it for me.  The roof looked newly-thatched and packed with fresh clay, there was a fire crackling in the central pit, and someone had hung drying herbs and left clay pots likely full of dried berries and grains on the shelves I’d dug for myself the year before.  Additionally, a covered basket sat alongside the left wall, where the racks I would hang my parka, my cloaks and other clothing were waiting for me.  I couldn’t wait to put on something other than my travel clothes.  But of immediate interest was the basket, which I dug into after getting a whiff of the fresh flat bread inside.  I was not disappointed.
	“The way he explained it,” I said around a mouthful of bread, unwilling to be embarrassed about my manners when I was as ravenous as I’d suddenly realized, “we can’t say we own the land, because we aren’t meant to be here to begin with.  They’re asserting that after the war, all the land. . . from coast to coast. . . became theirs.  So unless we’re citizens of their country, we can’t own anything here.”
	It was a great relief to me that he looked as confused as I felt.  “Well that’s horse shit,” he pronounced at length.
	“Thank you!”  I exclaimed, swallowing a satisfyingly too-large chunk of bread.  I had a moment of self-awareness and glanced down at the basket.  “Oh, uh.  Do you want some?”
	“It’s food of any kind other than fish, so yes,” he said, crossing the distance between us and digging a hand down into the basket, pulling out one of the pieces of flatbread.  He examined it a moment, then licked his fingers.  “What’s this on top?”
	“Honey and ground chestnuts,” I said, while starting on my third.
	We sat down by the fire, going through probably half the basket between the two of us.  Really, mostly me.
	“So how do you become citizens?”  He asked, brushing some crumbs off his vest after he’d finished his first piece.
	I shook my head.  “Apparently that’s what my father has been trying to work on with one of the Otherwolves in town for the last few years.  We’d either have to join the Tribal Alliance now, which is possible, but requires our tribe appeal to some sort of. . . I don’t know. . . a group of important men-“
	“Likely a Court of some kind,” he interjected, grabbing another piece of bread.
	“Right.  I think that’s the word he used,” I nodded.  “But they’re very far from here.  Very far.  In the South, where the big Otherwolf city is.”
	“Arbordale?”  He asked, ears perking.
	“I think so,” I sighed.  “He’s been trying to put together the means and the knowledge on how to do this thing we have to do, to be recognized, for a while now.  But there’s another problem.  Even if we’re able to join this Alliance now, our land won’t be. . . ours.  We would have to pay the Otherwolf nation for it.”
	“That is also horse shit,” he snorted.  “There has to be some sort of way around that.  Some sort of homesteading loophole you could exploit.”
	“None of it will matter in a few months’ time,” I curled my fists in my lap.  “The man my father thought he could trust- the one in the settlement nearby- he apparently talked to some of his fellows about what my father was planning to do.  And now they’re pushing outwards, as quickly as they can.  They know he can’t travel during the winter.  They’re using some kind of law in place where if they clear-cut the land to use it for their crops, or raising their beasts, they can claim it as their own without having to purchase it.  All they have to do is be using it for one of these purposes, and it’s theirs.”  
	I stared into the fire.  Finnegan apparently had nothing to say, but he did reach over and gingerly put a hand on my knee.  The warmth of his palm seeped into my fur, reminding me of how much we used to touch.  
	I wanted that again.  So badly.
	“Father’s contacts in the Otherwolf town have assured him they will not lay claim to the land our village is on,” I said softly.  “For however long that promise is good.  But it won’t matter.  The forest is where we hunt, where we get all of our food that isn’t fish.  And even fishing will become impossible soon.  Not just because of the Mill, but they intend to clear much more land than they already have, which will mean log runs down the river almost constantly.  The ones that come through here sometimes as it is cause so much damage.  A flood might destroy a house, and that is a hardship we can endure, but we can’t rebuild a river.”
	“So you’d need a lot of land,” Finnegan said in consideration.  
	“Much fewer people used to live in the North Country,” I sighed.  “This didn’t used to be a concern.  When we began welcoming Otherwolf travelers wanting to homestead, we didn’t know this would happen. . . .”
	“Some of your people clearly suspected,” he murmured.  “And tried to put a stop to it.”
	“Odina’s people,” I said quietly, glancing down at my bear paws, so unlike my family’s.  “And mine, most likely.”
	“Damn, Tulimak,” he made a frustrated noise.  “I’m so sorry.”
	“I want to help my father,” I said, my fists still curled, a tremor making its way from my core down to my arms, and growing.  “But even if I could take this trip for him, even if we could best these men trying to claim our land out from underneath us, I’m. . . a fisherman.  I couldn’t earn enough in a lifetime of fishing salmon runs to save the lands my people rely on.  It wouldn’t matter how hard I worked.”
	“It isn’t about effort,” he said, knitting his hands over a knee.  “That’s what they’ll tell you, but it’s a lie to make the underclass blame themselves.  It’s about the rung you start off on when you’re born, the chances you’re afforded, and the power those above you have to ensure you can’t take what they have.  And it all reinforces itself.  It’s insidious.”  He looked to me after a moment, clarifying.  “Evil.”
	“Is it completely hopeless?”  I asked softly.  “How do we prosper when they make all the rules, and they make them so they work best for themselves?”
	“And they have the guns to back them up,” he added.  “I don’t know, Tulimak.  And I’m not going to say I understand completely how you feel, but I do know that frustration.”  He glanced sidelong at me, his green eyes slim, eyelids dropped low, “You know how I tried to climb my way up out of that pit.”
	I was silent, my vision slowly shrinking around me, the low, dim firelight creating an orb around Finnegan and I.  The rest of the world seemed to recede into blackness, like it was all some distant place.  I was there, alone save Finn and my thoughts.  His words sunk into me slowly, and rather than frightening me or intimidating me as they rightfully should have, they ignited something inside me.  My chest was burning up into my throat.  I felt like I wanted to yell, to shake this all off of me like ice on my fur.  
	I felt helpless.  I realized then, with startling clarity, that was what I’d been feeling all this time about the situation with Finnegan, as well.  There were many things I felt. . . but more than anything I was paralyzed by the fear that there was nothing I could do.  Not about what had been done, what was still to come. . . nothing.
	And now, I’d come home to this.  Another problem beyond my control, completely beyond my abilities to affect change.
	I just wanted to be able to protect, to shield the people I loved.  I’d always thought all that would take was courage.  But it was so much more complicated than that.
	Finnegan was speaking again, but all I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears.  My entire body had begun to shake.  This again.  I hated how it could come upon me so quickly, when I thought I was doing fine.  But I wasn’t doing ‘fine’.  All I’d been doing was pushing it down.  Ignoring it.  And it kept growing inside me, festering like the sickness I’d had in my wound.  I had to burn it out, somehow.  I had to do something, anything, to stop from feeling this way.  I couldn’t bear it. . . .
	I just couldn’t bear it any more.
	“Tulimak?  Tulimak?”  I heard Finnegan’s insistent voice as though it were through water.  I looked up slowly, finding he’d moved up beside me, standing and looking down at me where I sat, concern etched in his every feature.  
	 I opened my mouth to assure him I was alright, but the reality that I was not came crashing down on me so hard right then, I couldn’t find the energy to say a thing, let alone lie.  I just stared up at him, jaw trembling, hands limp in my lap.  I was so overwhelmed, so tired, all at once.  I felt like movement of any kind would make me crumble.
	I felt my eyes stinging, knew what was coming.  But as humiliating as the realization was, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it.  
	I tried to say something again.  All that came out was a wordless, shuddering wheeze.  And that must have been when he saw my eyes watering, because Finnegan’s ears dropped, and he slowly crouched down beside me, extending a hand slowly to my shoulder.
	“Tuli. . . .”  he trailed off.  “Tulimak, I’m so sorry. . . .”
	“No more apologies,” I finally managed to utter, my voice half-choked.  “Nothing. . . none of it. . . is making this any better!”
	He leaned back on his haunches, looking away for a few moments, clearly uncertain what to say.  “What. . . can I do?”  He asked at length, softly.
	“Nothing!”  I cried out, frustrated.  “Th-that’s just the thing.  There isn’t a thing. . . either of us. . . can do.  About any of it!  But I can’t. . . just. . . accept it, either.  What am I supposed to do?!”
	“I-I don’t know-“
	“I am so tired,” I huffed out, between increasingly frantic breaths, “of feeling. . . this way.  Not just now.  My whole life.  I know there’s nothing we can do right now-“
	“Not tonight, no,” he eased, putting his hands out.  “But by tomorrow we’ll be more well-rested, we’re going to talk with Odina and your father-“
	“You are so calm!”  I belted out, shocking myself at how loud I’d become.  Finnegan, to his credit, barely flinched.  “I don’t understand how you’re so. . . calm. . . all the time.  You’re the one they’re going to drag off.  You know better than I do what’s waiting for you.  And still. . . .”  I shook my head frantically.  “I can’t. . . I just can’t. . . .”
	I’d squeezed my eyes shut by then, but I felt his paws settling on my shoulders, his fingers sinking into my fur.  I could smell he’d drawn closer, feel the heat off his breath.  “All right,” he said quietly.  “All right.  You just need to calm down, that’s all.  Today’s been bad.  Today’s been really bad.”
	I sat there and shook, and tried to catch my breath.  It felt like there was a crushing weight on my chest, stifling my ability to get enough air.  Whenever I tried, I’d cough or gasp.
	“I can’t. . . protect. . . you,” I gasped out, “I can’t. . . help. . . my family. . . .  Can’t. . . even endure hardship. . . without this. . . happening. . . .”  I bowed my head, closing my eyes tightly again.  “What is. . . wrong. . . with me?”
	His arms slid around my shoulders, and he slowly leaned into me.  I almost didn’t realize I was being embraced until I felt his muzzle press into the ruff of fur along my neck.  I hardly knew how to react, but it did stop the hyperventilating, because I stopped breathing entirely for a few moments.
	“Do you know,” he said, his muzzle inches from my ear, “how many times I broke down, caring for my mother?”
	I didn’t have an answer for him, but then he’d known that.
	“So many nights,” he murmured, “she’d be out of her mind, and I couldn’t calm her down, no matter what I did.  I’d have to clean the raw patches on her body, and she wouldn’t let me.  I would just. . . go outside. . . to the little back patch near the well, sit with my back against the stone. . . and curse and scream.”
	I finally dragged a ragged breath through my muzzle, filling my lungs.  I could feel his paw against the nape of my neck, stroking through the thick fur.  
	“I got angry,” he continued quietly.  “That’s what I did.  It’s what I. . . do. . . to this day.  I’m probably always going to, to some extent.  But you get. . . better. . . you learn how to get past it, with time.  You start getting over it faster.  You think more clearly, when you feel it coming over you.  I know that’s not. . . the best answer. . . because it’s not a help right now.”
	He let out a long breath against my shoulder, taking a few moments to compose himself before continuing.  “Considering what’s happened to you the last few weeks, I think you’re within your rights to be overwhelmed.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.  We handle troubles differently, is all.”
	“I feel like a child,” I managed to say, my voice coming out sounding every bit as small as I felt.  “I’m a man.  I should be able to. . . .”
	He pulled back to look me in the eyes, while stroking his palm up over my cheek.  “Men still feel things, Tulimak.  Men still have their limits.”  He leaned forward until our noses were almost touching.  “It has been a hard few days.  I understand why you’re frayed and I don’t think less of you for it.  I may not seem it, but,” he exhaled, “I am, too.  And I’m not. . . calm. . . either.  I’m just very good at pretending to be.”
	“Finn,” I uttered, my normally deep voice frail, “I am not letting them take you.”
	“We’ll figure something out,” he said, soothingly.  “Tomorrow.  We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
	“I really care about you,” I said, reaching a hand up to wrap around one of his.
	He smiled.  “I know.”
	I huffed softly, wiping my arm across my eyes.  “I think,” I sniffed, “you’re supposed to say something. . . similar. . . there.”
	“I probably owe you that,” he agreed, ears twitching, the slight smile still in place.  “But it’s harder for me.  I really envy that you seem to be able to say everything on your mind.”
	“No I don’t,” I muttered, miserably.  “Most of the time I can’t find any of the right words.  All that spills out of me is nonsense.”
	“That’s better than half-truths,” he sighed.  “All I seem capable of doing is obfuscating, until I’m caught and cornered and have nothing left but the truth.  I do it to myself, even.  I’m a right bastard.”
	I sniffed again, noisily, “Finn,” I groaned, “you need to use smaller words.”
	I heard rather than saw him give a light laugh, and then I felt him lean his forehead against my own.  Even after we’d bathed in the spring, his scent was filling my nose, pulling back memories of nights spent pressed against one another in the lean-to.  Woodsmoke, leather, that musk that was unmistakably him.  I could feel the heat of his body even through the sleeves of his jacket and the shirt beneath it, where his arms rested over my shoulders.  His breath was on my cheek, his whiskers brushing against my own.  I could feel every slight twitch of his muzzle.    
	One of my paws reached for the edge of his coat and dug in, balling in the travel-roughened leather and tugging it towards me.  He inhaled sharply, but didn’t resist.  Only pulled back his muzzle an inch from mine, lifting both palms to cup either side of my face.
	“Tulimak,” he breathed, “can I-“
	“Yes,” I said immediately.
	Our muzzles met, with no further hesitation.  The first time we’d kissed, even having no experience, I’d somehow fumbled my way through figuring it out.  It had been exhilarating, physically thrilling and I hadn’t worried over whether I was doing it right or not, because I’d been so absorbed in the fact that it was happening at all.
	This time, my mind went similarly, blissfully blank.  With the storm that had been raging inside my thoughts all day, the silence was such a release.  I may have fumbled finding the right angle for a while, but if I had I didn’t care, because exploring Finnegan’s pliant, soft mouth under mine was the whole point.  And no part of it felt wrong.  Even when I felt his tongue against my teeth, I opened my muzzle to his, and our teeth briefly clacked together, it only served to remind me how eager we both were.  Which only fed my want more.
	At some point after I’d first felt his tongue on mine and realized that, too was something I wanted to feel more of, he’d clambered closer to me.  Which by necessity meant he’d gone from kneeling before me to straddling one of my thighs.  I wrapped an arm around his midsection once he had a good seat there and dragged him up against my torso, and then it was all immediately easier.  He didn’t need to crouch or kneel over me, I could hold him easily in one arm.  He leaned in against me fully and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over mine, inside my muzzle.  
	I panted, not fighting the intrusion, but briefly overwhelmed by the sensation.  I had never known kissing could be like this.  I’d never even known it could last this long.  How long had we been at it now?
	Once or twice he pulled back, blinking hazily at me and looking as though he were going to ask me if I wanted to stop.  Each time, I’d chase him and nip at his muzzle if he still seemed uncertain.  That prompted a few surprised noises and breathless chuckles from him I immediately decided I liked.
	How long were you supposed to do this for?  Could we just do it all night?
	His coat was bunching around his waist and just generally getting in the way.  I wasn’t about to remove it, but it seemed obvious and natural to release my hold on it and instead slip my paw up beneath it to touch and hold him under the garment.  My hand settled where it had been holding him before, only now all that I felt were his trousers and the soft base of his tail.  Without thinking much about it, I wrapped my hand around it and stroked it once down to his white tail-tip.  I’d never touched his tail before, and I’d long wanted to.
	“Nnnhh,” he groaned against my mouth, pulling away from my muzzle with a wet lick of his own mouth.  He blinked dark green eyes down at me, irises blown wide in the dimly-lit room.  “Alright,” he said in a husky tone, slowly lifting himself out of my lap.  “Give me a moment.”
	I leaned back on my palms, worry creeping in as I watched him stiffly stand and walk over towards the rack where my clothing was hanging.  What had I done wrong?  I shouldn’t have touched his tail.
	He shed his coat and laid it out over my parka, then turned to regard me, undoing the cuffs of his sleeves.  The look he leveled at me across the room was smoldering.
	“I know you’ve only the one garment,” he said, his lean figure all the more striking in the well-tailored vest he wore beneath his jacket.  “But you should probably lose it.”
	I glanced down at my breech cloth, then back up at him.  He was unbuttoning his vest.
	“O-oh,” I said, awkwardly.  I became painfully self-aware of my body’s condition in that moment.  “I. . . maybe I shouldn’t,” I mumbled, “I’m. . . .”
	“Tulimak, I was in your lap,” he reasoned.  “I know.”
	I knew my ears were flushing, but it was less embarrassing this time, for some reason.  I looked up at him shyly, and he paused before shrugging out of his vest.  “We don’t have to do anything but kiss tonight,” he said quietly, “if that’s what you want.”
	It didn’t take me long to decide.
	“I want to know what else there is,” I said after a few moments.  “And I want to figure it out. . . with you.  But,” I stammered, “are you really. . . .”  
	He looked at me expectantly, slowly smiling.  “Attracted to you?”  He supplied.
	“We’re just,” I sighed, “so different.  I never thought someone like you would like. . . looking. . . at someone like me.”
	“Tuli, are you attracted to me?”  He asked, although we both knew the answer was obvious.
	“Yes,” I said in a gruffer voice than I’d meant to.
	“But I’m quite different than you,” he said pointedly, shrugging out of his vest.  “People like different things.  Often things. . . and people. . . very different from themselves.”
	“That. . . makes sense,” I agreed.
	He’d already gotten off his spats, holster, and was undoing his trousers as he approached me.  They had been one of the few pairs of clean clothing he had left, if what I’d seen in his pack was any indication.  I realized as he approached me that the scent on him had changed and a slightly darker spot had appeared on the front flap of his dark tan trousers.  When he finally shoved them down, it was clear where it had come from.  A far softer shade of pink than my own, his length was half out of its sheath, the tip slick where it had been pressing against the fabric.  
	He seemed relieved to be free of the garment and kicked it aside without further ado.  “Best I got out of those sooner than later,” he muttered, then glanced back at me.  
	I was staring.  I know I was staring, but I couldn’t stop.  He smirked slightly, approaching me fully nude now, his black fur catching the orange and red hues of the flickering fire.  I’d never really gotten a good look at him, laid out before me as he was now.  And I’d certainly never seen that. . . part. . . of his body.
	Some part of my mind, I think, had wondered how far these desires of mine went.  It was one thing to kiss another man, even to be touched by him.  And there was no doubt I was attracted to his figure.  But this. . . I’d thought on it more than was probably healthy, and wondered many times if I could possibly want another man in this way.  It was so opposite to what I was supposed to want.
	But now, I knew.  I very much did.
	“Do you want to touch me?”  He asked in that same, unusually deep voice that had first surprised me.  It seemed lower now, though.
	I nodded dumbly, and he gestured at me, “Then disrobe,” he said again.  “Or you’ll ruin your clothing.”
	His implication hit me hard, sending the blood right down to the spot in question, with its unspoken promise.  I swallowed and got to my knees, untying my breechcloth and removing it with unsteady hands.  I was acutely aware of his gaze on me, the whole time.  But despite feeling awkward, I didn’t want him to look away.  I watched him watch me, his expression validating the part of me that needed it.  Seeing him hanging out his sheath didn’t hurt, either.
	I was embarrassingly hard.  The breechcloth had honestly been doing little to contain what was obvious, but it was good to have it off all the same.  I leaned back on my palms, still looking up at him, bashfully.  His gaze was traveling over my figure, those green eyes I’d so often found entrancing drinking me in silently.  I wish I knew what was on his mind.
	“You’re marvelous, Tulimak,” he rumbled, slowly stepping up towards me until he was nearly standing over me.  He was so close.  I wanted to. . . I hardly know.  I just wanted to nuzzle into his fur, press my nose between his legs. . . .
	I groaned lowly at the sheer thought of that, my cock twitching.  
	He chuckled, stroking a palm over the top of my head, rubbing one of my ears.  “I keep forgetting how young you are.  Bit eager, are we?  That’s alright,” he settled both of his paws on my shoulders, smiling down at me.  “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve wanted to mount you since the first time I realized you fancied me.”
	“’Mount me’?”  I echoed, my mouth gone dry suddenly.  “Like a. . . horse?”
	He laughed through his teeth, “Not exactly!  Probably doesn’t mean what you think it means.  Or maybe it does?  Heh,” he slowly kneeled over me and lowered himself back into my lap, fully straddling me this time.  “Here, I’ll show you.”
	He leaned forward and kissed me again, pressing our bodies together, fur against fur, finally.  I was going to wind my arms around him again, when he gave me a light shove on my uninjured shoulder.  “Can you lie down on it now?”  He asked, tail flicking back and forth over my legs.
	I nodded.  “My furs here are better, too,” I said, glancing behind me at the mountain of soft sheep fur laid out over the woven straw mattress my sisters had so lovingly spent far too much time on for me.  My den, specifically my bed, was one of the things I’d most missed from home.
	He gave me another playful nudge, this time with just one finger.  He smirked at me as I dutifully fell back into my furs and lay down beneath him.  Afterwards, he remained straddling me, placing his paws on my belly and slowly stroking them up through my thick fur, leaning forward now that he could and grinding his hips down into mine with a low hum.
	The sensation of his sheath, his cock, deliberately rubbing against mine was. . . if my mind had been blank before, now it was a void.  All I cared about in the world was that he keep doing that, keep moving, keep making those noises. . . .
	“Put those big paws on me,” he slurred out, reaching for them and dragging them to his hips, where I eagerly dug my claws into his fur.  He steadied himself with his hands on my chest and slowly moved his body against mine.  I felt his muscles flexing through my paw pads, the rise of his hipbone under my thumb, where I dug in and rubbed the spot I knew him to be sore.  
	He hissed low, tail brushing against my inner thigh.  “Goddamn,” he groaned, “you’re like a mountain.  My knees can barely touch the bed.”
	“I’m s-“
	“Don’t you dare fucking apologize,” he admonished, before leaning in and kissing me once again, nipping at my muzzle, “I like the challenge.  Mmmhhh. . . “  
	He’d wound his arms up around my neck again, flattening his chest to my own while still continuing to rub his cock into my fur, more against my stomach, now.  My own was between the heat of his thighs, enjoying the occasional tease from his tail.  My paws continued to rove his body, finding him softer than I’d imagined.  I’d always thought he’d be all hard planes and unyielding, since he was so thin.  But his figure was still soft in places and quite enjoyable to squeeze, and since he’d told me to touch him and all. . . .
	He gasped out into my muzzle when I first cupped and squeezed his rear, then broke from the kiss to give a breathless chuckle.  “You don’t need much instruction, huh?”
	“No, I do,” I managed to say somehow, even though my head was swimming and my body was on fire.  “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
	He smirked and rubbed his muzzle up beneath my neck, biting at my scruff there.  I have no idea why, but each successive nip felt better than the last.  I let my head fall back, exposing my throat to him.  He teased me there for quite a while, as he ground himself into my thick fur.  
	When he, at last, lifted himself back up to straddling me again, he was fully out of his sheath.  Finn was half my size, but then he was in all other respects, too.  His light pink cock contrasted beautifully against his black fur, beckoning me to wrap a paw around it.
	Before I had a chance though, he’d slid further down my body, straddling one of my thighs instead.  One of his paws moved along my other inner thigh to tip it aside, which I complied with, easing up onto my elbows to watch him in curiosity.  He slowly slid his free hand up to cup my sac.  I instinctively twitched back for a moment, but he leveled a cool gaze at me from between my legs, and even more gently stroked me there, making it clear he’d be ginger.  When I allowed myself to relax, I enjoyed it.  And he squeezed softly once he’d gotten me comfortable, which pulled a groan out of me.
	He gave a self-satisfied, “Hmm,” and moved his other palm up, wrapping it loosely around my cock and stroking once from base to tip, feeling the whole of me out.  He let out a long breath as he did so.  “Damn,” he uttered.  
	I couldn’t reach much of him, as far down as he was now, so I settled for playing with one of his ears.  The reprieve wasn’t bad, I was appreciating the moment to calm down, but what exactly was he doing?  I couldn’t even kiss him from here.
	The answer came soon, when he nosed his way up my inner thigh.  For a moment I thought he was just indulging in what I admittedly had considered earlier, just nuzzling me there.  But then he lathed his tongue up the base of my manhood, and whatever chance I’d had at calming down, it was gone. 
	“Unnhhh. . . .”  I felt some of my bear voice slip out on the groan, my head falling back into the sheepskins.  One lick was soon joined by another and before long he was holding me by the base and just putting me in his muzzle.  Really, given how our kissing had progressed earlier, I probably should have seen it coming.  But I was wholly unprepared for how it would feel.
	My paw was still wrapped around one of his ears, partially holding his head in my palm, and I tried my hardest not to grip him or pull him into me, but I wanted to more than words could describe.  I was still propped up on an elbow, watching him slack-jawed, breath huffing out heavily as the top half of my cock disappeared into his slender muzzle, again and again.  His tongue was caressing the underside, cheeks sucking at me, the hand that had been gripping me stroking what he couldn’t swallow with the aid of his pooling saliva.
	I couldn’t take it for long.  I felt the bliss overtaking me, the mounting pressure building, coiling in my stomach.  When his other hand again massaged my sac, that was it, that was all I could bear.
	I couldn’t get anything out other than growling groans by then, but I frantically shook his shoulder, and he released me from his muzzle with a last, long drag of his tongue up and over the tip.  I only barely made it, spilling long ropes of seed over my stomach and part of his muzzle as he narrowly avoided most of it.  He only chuckled again and continued to lick the underside of my cock while I spilled and twitched.
	I was boneless and barely coherent in the wake of it, but I heard him cursing lowly. . . not angrily. . . more in sultry admiration.  When I managed to look up, he’d moved back up to straddle my waist and was looking down on me, stroking himself slowly.
	“Give me one of your paws,” he all but commanded.  Weakly at first, I complied, reaching over to him.  But when he grabbed my hand and placed it on his manhood, I got some of my strength back.  
	“Won’t take much,” he promised breathlessly, as I closed my palm around him and began to stroke.  Like this, it was easy.  It was only slightly different than touching myself.  He leaned up on his knees and let his eyes drift half-closed, still watching me.  As I stroked him, he curled his tongue up over the edge of his muzzle to lick at where I’d left my mark on him, and I swear to you, the sight nearly got me hard all over again.
	I briefly slid my palm over my own spent length, slicking it before returning to his.  He groaned out his approval immediately, bucking his hips into my palm.  “Tuli-fuck!”  He began pumping into my grip.  “Just like that. . . .”
	He’d been right.  It wasn’t much longer before I felt a bulge grow beneath my palm, and his knot-something I’d heard canines had, been never seen before let alone felt- popped free of his sheath.  He moaned sharply, spraying my stomach and even part of my chest, with his seed this time.  I felt it, warm against my fur, surely leaving his scent on me.  We’d clean up as well as we could soon enough, but I hazily thought it might not be so bad if enough lingered for me to remember all of this by.
	In the aftermath, we mostly lay against one another, kissing.  Finnegan didn’t even seem to care that doing so was getting us both dirty.  On the contrary, he seemed to be relishing in it, chuckling lewdly when I tried to wipe his cheek with my thumb, where more of my seed remained.
	“Nnnhh,” he waved a hand, smirking.  “You’re just rubbing it into the fur.  At least lick it off.”
	I don’t think he’d expected me to comply, but when I did, leaning forward to lathe my big, dark tongue over his cheek, he gave a surprised, “Oh-hooo!  Someone’s got a few gutter inclinations himself there. . . not so innocent as y’appear.”  He chortled contently, then leaned forward to kiss me again.  It quickly deepened, his content hum growing to a groan as our tongues curled and our bodies pressed together once more.
	I rolled him onto his back in the furs this time and he let me, allowing himself to be caged in my arms.  We kissed, groaned, laughed at ourselves and generally rolled around together for a while, until I was hard again and he was halfway there.  And then we did it again.
	Eventually, exhaustion got the better of us and we somehow managed to get to the wash basin and clean up. . . somewhat. . . before collapsing in bed together.  
	I should have worried more.  About what tomorrow would bring, about what tonight meant, about how careless we’d been.  But I’d never slept with such a clear head.  And worrying wouldn’t have changed anything.