Chapter 23 – You’re Not Alone

	When we walked back in to the warehouse on the pier, the fall-back spot we’d all agreed upon if things went wrong, we were greeted like spirits returned from the dead.
	The doors, barred and locked up tight in the first dim hour of morning, were opened by the big boar.  He stepped aside to let us in and the first thing I heard was an audible gasp, followed by rushing footsteps down the hollow wooden staircase leading up to the second story.
	Odina sprinted ahead of several of the Privateers, pushing past a few drowsy men to get to us.  I think I was as glad to see her as she seemed to be to see us.
	Much to my shock, she threw her arms around me and embraced me tightly.  I smiled despite myself, clutching her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her body.  I didn’t lift her as I often did Finn. . . I think the usually terse woman would object to that.  But the display of relief and affection was so unlike her, I probably could have pushed my luck.
	The joyous reunion aside, the reality of our sobering situation still lingered over me like a cloud.  This should have been the happiest moment of our journey so far.  Instead, my gut was in knots, and I felt a familiar pain forming I knew I’d be feeling later.
	As Odina slowly pulled away, she must have seen it on my face.  “What’s wrong?”  She immediately asked.  She looked to Finnegan, who if anything, was so calm and neutral as to be eerie.  He’d been like that the whole way back, even when we’d talked.  “Ambrose?”  She pressed.  “Spirits. . . what’s wrong?  What happened?  How did you escape?”
	“She’s been worried sick for you lads,” a stiff-legged, exhausted wolf came limping down the stairs, his coat slung over his shoulders, arms tucked inside it.  One of his eyes was swollen shut and his muzzle was split along the gumline in several places.  I actually felt really bad, seeing him in such a sorry state.  He was still smirking, though.  I was starting to think that was just his natural state of being.  A walking smirk.  
	“It was all I could do to keep her from going back out there after you,” he said, leaning against the railing.  His words sounded entirely genuine, for once.  
	“I was waiting for the Ferry further down the dock when I saw them jump you on the road,” she explained.  “I don’t think they knew we were together.  They must have ignored me completely when I came down the same road ahead of you.  I didn’t know what to do. . . I found my way back to Grayson, and-“
	“You did the right thing,” Finnegan assured her.  “You escaped with the press.  That’s what this was all about.”
	“How the hell did you escape?”  Grayson asked, leaning his jaw against his palm.  “The lass said there were a dozen. . . fifteen of ‘em, at least.”
	“We didn’t,” I said quietly, looking down at Finn.  “Gezan let us go.”
	Both of them stared at us like we’d grown another head.  Odina instantly looked angry, like she somehow knew where this was going.  “Why?”  She demanded icily.
	“Hang on, before that,” I heard one of Grayson’s men, the fox, speak up from one of the nearby tables, “were you followed back here?”
	“We tried to ensure we lost any potential tail on our way back,” Finnegan said.  “That’s why we’re so late.  I took us through a lot of neighborhoods and looped back around more than once.“
	“We crossed alleyways instead of streets, too,” I said.  “To cut back around and see if we recognized anyone behind us-“
	“Who the hell cares if they were followed?”  Grayson asked with a yawn.
	Odina glared back at him, disbelievingly.  “Are you kidding me?”
	“You think Gezan doesn’t know where my territory is?”  Grayson muttered with a sloppy grin.  “Didn’t you see the big fucking flag outside?”
	“He might not yet know we’ve been working together, though,” I pointed out.
	“I hope he does,” the wolf snorted.  “Let him come here.  I’m not going out of my way to start shit with the man, but I’d relish the excuse.  If he wants a war, he’ll get one.  I have five hundred boys crawlin’ around these parts itching for something to do.”
	“Okay, that hostility sounds. . . new,” Finn said uncertainly.  “You laughed at the idea of taking his Cartel on when we brought it up.”
	“I had my people do a little digging,” he explained, still sounding like he’d rather be sleeping off his many woes right now than having this conversation.  “Look, it’s late. . . early. . . but long story short, I wanted to make sure before we helped you out in your little venture that the scumbag was still as wretched as I remembered.”
	Finn looked somewhere between exasperated and angry.  “Were you weighing whether or not it was worth it to turn me in to him?”
	“If I wasn’t, I’d be a fool,” he said, realistically.  “You know how much you were worth?  Anyway, it hardly matters because I obviously took your view on things, in the end.  But I wish I hadn’t stuck my nose into that man’s dealings and taken a whiff.  Good God. . . .”
	“Rory was telling me,” Odina said quietly.  “They aren’t just abducting children from overseas.  They’re doing it here now, too.”
	“Cubs from Debriss have been going missing in droves, over the last year or so,” Grayson growled out.  “Rory knows three, personally.  A lot of kids in these parts end up on the run, or wash up under piers, and to be honest it’s just an expected part of life, here.  But there’s talk they’re targeting canines specifically, young ones, and packing them with cargo bound for Amuresca.  He’s using the Jackwalds to do it, apparently.  ‘Arresting’ them for petty crimes, then no one sees them again.”
	Finn looked horrified.  “They. . . can’t be.  In Amuresca?  Slavers are penalized with death, there.”
	“They’re not being ‘sold’,” the fox cut in, “they’re being ‘adopted’.  A lot of kids in Debriss live on the street, they mostly go after them.  No one raises a fuss when they go missing.  But they ain’t legit adoptions, obviously.  At least not most of ‘em.  That’s just the cover.  They’re probably doing the same thing here, with the Huudari kids they sell.  It’s how the whole scheme works.”
	“There were adults on the manifests, too,” I insisted.  “He can’t call those ‘adoptions’.”  It was hard to describe how much it hurt to hear someone using the process by which I’d been saved, loved and raised into a better life, as a cover for something so horrible.
	“He probably started off moving adults and switched to all young blood once he realized that’s where the money and the interested buyers were,” Grayson said.  “I don’t know why we didn’t think he’d be doing it here, too.  It’s a basic trade principle.  This place has a resource he can exploit.  He’s doing just that.”
	I stared down at Finnegan, whose whole body had gone defensive.  I demanded with my eyes that he look back at me, but he didn’t.
	“So you need to explain to me,” Odina broke the silence, “right now, Ambrose.  Why it is that man set you free.  What did you give him?”
	Finn sighed.

	“You can’t seriously be considering this!”
	Odina’s shriek was so wildly emotional, so totally uncharacteristic, I think it took everyone around the table aback.  Grayson didn’t look shocked so much as irked, massaging his temples as he nursed a flagon of coffee.  And. . . more rum. . . by the smell of it.
	Finnegan tried to respond to her, then shut his mouth before he got any more words out.  He looked to me as if hoping I’d explain things better, or calm her down.  I stared back at him impassively, arms crossed over my chest.  
	“I don’t know why you’re expecting I’ll agree with you,” I said.  “I feel exactly the same way, and you know it.”
	“The man nearly sent you off to the Jackwalds to be gutted!”  He exclaimed, eyes wild.  “You are literally only alive right now. . . both of us. . . are alive right now. . . because I played ball!  I had to tell him what he wanted to hear!”
	“Right,” I agreed, “but we’re free now.  So isn’t that where all the ‘ball-play’ should end?” 
	I don’t know why, but Grayson suddenly snarfed his coffee.  The painted dog who seemed to keep to his side a lot slapped his back a few times, while he coughed into his flagon.
	Odina’s voice was teetering on the bleeding edge of self-restraint.  “That creature,” she hissed out, “is the one responsible for killing my son.  You can’t possibly be telling me you intend to work with him.”
	“Not indefinitely,” Finn reasoned, delicately.  
	Odina slammed her first on the table and stood quickly, pacing away.  Finn raised his voice, “What would you have me do?!”  He demanded.  “The seal has an army at his disposal.  I’m not even certain we could leave the city without being caught again- and even if we could, would you want to spend the rest of your life on the run?!  Every.  Damn.  Day.  Would be like the last few months.  Hunted, relentlessly.  Never resting.”  His voice grew ragged on the last words.  “I can’t. . . I can’t anymore, Odina.  I’m so damn tired.  What would you have me do instead?”
	“You know what I want done!”  She spun on her heel, snapping at him.
	“What about Tulimak?!” He demanded, gesturing at me.  “You have the luxury of being invisible to them, Odina.  He doesn’t.”
	“I can decide for myself whether I’m willing to risk that or not,” I spoke up.
	“Remember your family,” Finn annunciated each word.  Honestly, I was offended he was saying it like I hadn’t already, and I tried to make that clear with a glare.  “Remember how much my association endangered them in the past.  I don’t want that again.  You shouldn’t either.”
	“I made poor choices in the past,” I said.  “There are ways we could handle this that wouldn’t involve them, this time.  We just have to make better decisions.”
	“This,” Finn said, clapping a hand over his chest, “this decision. . . is mine.  It involves my family.  My home country.  My inheritance.”
	“And that’s the part you’re fixated on, isn’t it?”  Odina demanded angrily.
	“That isn’t a fair accusation,” I insisted, trying to be as neutral between the two of them as I could.  “Finn’s never put coin over his principles, before.”
	“He’s killed men in cold blood for coin!”  She declared.
	“So have you,” I boomed, raising my voice for the first time.  As it so often did, it had the desired result.  When you don’t speak up often, when you’re someone like me who saves that voice for only the most pressing moments, it tends to make your point.
	The argument dissolved, but the tension didn’t.  Grayson eventually spoke up again, after clearing his throat.  “Look, suffice it to say, I think every soul in this room’s killed for coin at some point in our lives.”
	I didn’t bother correcting him.  To be honest, I wasn’t sure where I fell in his estimation anyway.  I knew where I wanted to. . . but things had gotten very murky at the Basin.
	“The way I see it, you can dicker over the morality of the lad’s decision all day’n night,” he continued, “but the fact is, right or wrong, putting yourself in the same position as your Pa is flat-out stupid, Ambrose.  You ever hear the homage about learning from the past?”
	“I have no heirs either,” Finnegan said.  “If he killed me, he’d be right back in the same predicament.”
	“Right, but this time he’ll get his ducks in a row,” the Privateer waggled his fingers in the air.  “He’ll get you committed, or locked down somewhere that’s as good as death, and insist he needs to run things for the poor unfortunate guttersnipe who wasn’t ready to inherit his father’s wealth.  You hafta’of thought of that.”
	“I still have the manifests,” he insisted.
	“That’s what we should be focusing on,” I said pointedly.  “Remember?  That’s what this whole thing has always been about!  Bringing those to light, taking down your sire’s Cartel.  Gezan’s responsible- fine.  The goal is the same.”
	Finn shook his head.  “I thought bringing them to the authorities here would mean more, because I thought my sire was the one behind all of this.  The Carvecian Port Authority would jump at the chance to seize holdings from an Amurescan Pedigree Lord.  But I was wrong.  This city is Gezan Archambault’s throne room, he has the largest militia in the country at his beck and call, and who knows how many officials.  We’ll be swallowed whole by his power here if we try to go up against him.  We were at his mercy tonight, and we escaped alive.  That won’t happen again.”
	“We haven’t even tried,” I said.  “You’re dismissing the whole reason you came to this country in the first place, now that we’re finally here, and we haven’t even tried.”
	“I’ll have a better chance of taking him down in Amuresca,” Finn pushed back.  “He as much as confessed he’s out of favor there, I doubt he has nearly the resources or men-“
	“He had men hunting you there, a year ago,” I reminded him.  “He had your sire killed.”
	“If I can win his confidence,” he insisted, “convince him I’m willing to play into his hands, I can work on him for long enough that eventually, he’s bound to let his guard down-“
	“See, this here,” Grayson cut in, “this’s the shit your comrades here are likely most worried about, Ambrose.  An’I don’t blame them.  Lad,” he blew out a breath, “you are going to get yourself killed.”
	“If I do, at least it’ll only be me,” he said, knitting his hands on the table. 
	“I’m not letting you do this,” I said desperately.
	“What the hell is wrong with me wanting to minimize the harm?”  Finn demanded, splaying his hands.  “Why are you all so intent on going down with me?”
	“I’m not,” Grayson said, around another sip of coffee.  “Fer the record.”
	“You’ve been trying to martyr yourself since we first met,” Odina said, her eyes slim.  “You aren’t the hero in your own personal story, Ambrose.  You’re a small part of a great many.  This suicidal urge of yours is selfish, and tiresome.”
	“You’re one to talk,” he barked out.  “You’ve been dead set on Gezan since the Basin.  You left your daughter behind.”
	“I am here for my daughter,” she snarled, “and the countless children this man is selling.  And I’m willing to discuss options aside from ‘leave the country with this man in the hopes I might find a way to kill him on my own’.”
	Finn slumped back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment.  “This is my burden,” he persisted.  “Not any of yours.  You got me this far, I’m eternally grateful for that-“
	“Do you really think it’s any fairer for you to leave your mate, forever, than it was for me to leave my daughter for a season?”  Odina suddenly said, speaking in Nontawlik.  “Think of the nightmares this will bring him, if your own pain does not matter to you!”
	She seemed to have once again forgotten something crucial.  But although I did see Grayson arch an eyebrow, he said nothing.
	Finnegan pinched his brow.  “You have. . . to go slower, Odina.  I didn’t catch most of that.”
	“She’s worried for me,” I said softly.  “For all of us who’ve come to know and. . . and care for you, here.”  I looked to him imploringly.  “That we might blame ourselves for whatever befalls you from this point forward.  Or live our lives simply never knowing.  Seeing the worst outcomes, in our dreams.”
	His expression softened and I saw his hand twitch in my direction.  But instead, he turned towards me.  “Tulimak, none of this is in any way your fault,” he said.
	“You said yourself all of your friends and family in Amuresca are gone, or moved-on,” I said.  “All that awaits you there is ill-gotten coin, the poisonous influences of a wicked man, and death.”  I looked him in the eyes.  “If we aren’t worth staying here for. . . if you’d prefer that place you ran from to the one you’re in now. . . how can I not blame myself for that?”
	“Tuli. . . .”  Finn began to say something, then briefly glanced around him.  “I. . . can we. . . .”  He paused, then managed, “Talk alone, us,” in Nontawlik.
	“Aye,” Grayson spoke up suddenly.  “Seems like this whole thing’s wound down,” he made a show of clambering to his feet.  “Everyone’s tired.  Cooler heads in the mornin’.  Evenin’.  Whatever, at this point.  Come on, gents.”
	The painted dog gave us a long look for some reason before following his Admiral off.  The other men began to disperse as well, the few that were still awake.  There weren’t any rooms in this place, save the relative privacy of the loft area, which Grayson and his closest men seemed to occupy at night.  Most used bedrolls or hammocks, the Admiral opting for the latter.  We’d probably have to make do on the floor tonight, since our things were still at the Inn we’d been staying at, and we weren’t sure if we could risk returning there yet.
	Odina was the last to remain at the table.  She’d been staring Finn down the whole time.  He wasn’t able to hold her gaze, but he was still regarding her.  He looked extremely tired.
	“You can rebuild a life,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  “I have done it twice.  I will do it again, when I return to the north.  It gets harder every time,” she pushed the words out with visible effort.  “But. . .” she gave shuddering breath, “it’s always worth the struggle.”
	She left us at that.  Finn’s hands rested limply on the table, his body boneless in his chair.  Today had taken absolutely everything out of him, and I was simultaneously angrier with him than I’d ever been, and absolutely desperate to comfort him.
	“I don’t care about the coin,” he finally said.  “I hope you at least believe that.”
	“I wish you did,” I said with a bitter, miserable huff.  “Because the alternative, Finn, is that you’re doing this for us.  And that will haunt me.  Forever.”
	“You have to let me do this,” he said, his voice shrunken and soft.  “It’s the most good I might ever be able to do with my miserable life.  I’ve never been given a chance like this, before.  I never will be, again.”
	“I would give you. . .” I breathed out, “. . . so many chances, Finn.  I have.  I don’t regret a one.”
	“This man,” he grated out, “this lineage. . . it’s like an anchor, Tulimak.  No matter how far I go from it, I’m pulled back towards it.  Again, and again.  I need to bury it, once and for all.”
	“What you need to do,” I said, leaning forward to grip his hand in mind, “is sever the link.  It’s your past.  You’re the one who keeps moving backwards towards it.”
	He shrugged, helplessly, “I can’t- it’s a part of me.  It’s my blood.  Even now, it’s all they want me for.  It’s all that’s ever made me important, and all that’s ever made me unimportant.”
	“We aren’t made by our blood,” I said, leaning in close enough that our foreheads nearly touched.  “Your father’s only contribution to your life is in your body.  Your fur, your eyes, your. . . height.”  I gestured down at myself.  “That is all it need be.  There was also the parent who raised you, the love they gave you, the community you grew up in.”  I brushed our muzzles against one another.  “The man you made of yourself.  The family you. . . could make. . . for yourself.” 
	His features, inches from mine, held steady for an instant longer, and then they began to crumble.  He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against me.  
	“Tuli,” he said desperately, “I don’t want to leave you.”
	I wrapped an arm around him, dragging him up against my side.  He went weak in my embrace, folding against me.
	“But I can’t just watch this man hunt us down and kill you, either,” he said with a shudder.  “I don’t. . . I don’t know what to do.  I can’t. . . think. . . of any way out of this.  The only way I know how to fight is alone.”
	I sat there with him in the dark, knowing I didn’t have answers, either.  

	When Finnegan was manic with worry, he worked.  And worked.  And worked.  
	The next day, Odina managed to slip out with some of Grayson’s men and, after being very certain they weren’t being tailed, made their way across the pier district to our Inn, collecting our horses and possessions.
	Including the manifests and everything Finn needed to make our Citizenship Cards.  And that’s what he did.  For days. 
	We didn’t talk about Gezan.  We didn’t talk about the sword hanging over our heads, about Finn’s future and the deal he’d brokered with the powerful man.  But the seal’s presence was always there.  Literally.
	Grayson informed us of it the very next day.  The Jackwalds were everywhere in and around the warehouse.  Not close, they apparently knew better than to tread on Grayson’s turf, at least while wearing badges.  But they were not hiding their presence in the district.  They wanted us to know we were being watched.
	It hadn’t taken him long to find us.  It wasn’t a surprise, but it was an unnerving confirmation of Finn’s deepest fears and certainly darkened the mood in the warehouse.  No more big talk of open warfare with the Cartel Boss from Grayson, no more sharp-tongued arguments from Odina.  It was like we were in stasis.  The issue had never been settled.  It was just an unknown, something we were pushing off until the current task at hand was finished.
	Rory and some of his friends proved to be an indispensable resource for gathering supplies to make the cards.  Paper mills were usually built in the poorest districts, which he knew like the back of his paw, so he was able to find us someone who’d supply the right sort of ‘stock’ Finn insisted he needed within a day.  And other than that, all that was required was ink, quills, and time.
	The first card he made was for Nuka.  He left the pertinent details she might grow into like height blank, since we’d probably never have a chance to update the card.  He spent a good few hours on that first card. . . and if Grayson’s was any indication, it looked like the real thing, to me.  It would certainly fool most anyone in the north.
	A few hours later, I was holding one of my own in my hand.  Turning it over, feeling the ridges of the pressed-in seal under my paw-pads, it was hard to believe that this little slip of paper could be so important.  The fact is- it wasn’t.  It was as much an imagined certification of superiority as someone claiming their fur color denoted they were more important.  It was a fabrication.
	It seemed to me. . . and perhaps this was my ‘uncivilized’ nature speaking. . . that the fact that I breathed and bled should have been reason enough for my value as a person.
	But this was the world we found ourselves in.  And as our new Privateer friend put it, when the odds were stacked against you, the best you could do was-
	“Cheat!”  The wolf crowed, passing out cards to the leopard and the painted dog, Taarush and Akachi.  “They don’t make the game fair t’begin with.  So fuck them.  When the house is rigged, you find whatever way you can to get ahead.”
	Taarush grinned as he held his card, and the painted dog immediately tucked his carefully into his belt pouch.  Although Taarush was a bit intimidating at first blush, he’d turned out to be a very mellow, thoughtful man.  And as fond of the pipe as my father.  He and the Admiral would smoke and recite odd, foreign poetry or. . . stories, I wasn’t sure. . . late into the night.  Whatever weed it was they preferred, it was strong and often affected me even from a distance.  Mostly it made me hungry.  The Admiral called it his ‘medicine’.
	Akachi, the painted dog, was a serious soul.  But although he’d been terse when we’d first arrived, he seemed to have warmed to Finnegan and I recently.  He’d even sat with us and spoken several times of his own accord, mostly asking about the cards and if we needed his help with anything, or just to offer his thanks for what we were doing.  But I’d once gotten him to speak about the petal necklace he wore, asking if it was from his tribe.  It reminded me of some tribal jewelry, and I was curious about tribes from other nations.
	He wasn’t overly open about his past, but he did confess that he’d come from what we’d call a ‘tribe’ in his motherland, Mataa.  But that he considered the Manoratha crew his tribe, now.  
	These disparate men, though rough, were certainly bound by something stronger than physical appearance or origin.  I remembered how Odina had explained she’d begun to let her guard down more around me when she’d realized we both shared something important- our lives on the margins.  
	It was so strange, because until this year, I’d never considered myself very different from most people in the north.  I was big, sure.  But that was skin-deep.  I’d always thought that when it came to the way I planned to life my life, I was dull normal, not one to break down walls or test boundaries.  And I still felt that way.
	All I really wanted out of life was to fish.  To find someone.  To have a family together and raise them on the land I’d grown up on.  It was everything I’d been raised to believe was normal, and it was still all I wanted.
	The only thing I’d gotten ‘wrong’ was my choice in partner.  And at this point. . . I was fairly certain that was an overall preference, not just a fixation on Finnegan.  Grayson brought women in and out of the warehouse constantly for his men, many of them paraded about in various states of undress.  One had even sat in my lap one night, while we were eating dinner.  One of Grayson’s lot had paid her to do it, apparently.
	We ended up talking about the dinner, chicken pot pie, more than anything else, which led to her telling me about her father who owned a chicken farm. . . and by the end of the night, I’d made a new friend.  But even though I’m pretty certain she’d been of a mind, and Finnegan hadn’t said a word about her hanging all over me all night, I hadn’t once thought I wanted to take her to bed.
	I liked women, of course.  I liked Odina, and if we made it out of this together, I’d consider her family, forever.  But the more time passed, the more I was coming to terms with the fact that I didn’t think I’d ever see a woman. . . in that way.
	I’d slowly been coming to grips with the realization, so when certainty hit, I’d been ready for it.  But it was hard, it was definitely hard, to think about what it would mean in the future.  And those simple things that I wanted, that I might never have.
	A week passed.  Finnegan was hardly sleeping, I had to remind him to eat and drag him to his bedroll in between his long stretches of work.  One night, as he toiled away on a stack of blank cards intended for my tribe, I decided I’d ask him something that had been on my mind.  Something at least I figured we wouldn’t argue over.
	“What do you call people like me, Finn?”  I asked.  “In your language.”
	The wolfdog slowly put down his quill.  He got a nameless expression on his face, like his eyes were searching for something on the wall he couldn’t find.  “Tuli, you don’t want to hear any of those words,” he said softly.  “Anyone who uses one on you- they mean you harm.  Trust me.”
	“Isn’t there a good one?”  I asked.
	His eyelids fell low.  “Not as it stands.  No.  The world doesn’t have much in the way of good to say about men like us.”
	“Why does it matter so much?”  I stared down at my paws.  “Why does it bother other people?”
	“I wish I knew,” he said simply.
	I’d meant to leave it at that, but then I heard his chair creak and shift, and he rose.  He splayed his hands on his lower back and stretched for a moment, wincing as he bent on his bad side, where he both had the old hip injury, and the mostly-healed bullet wound.  He tugged at his vest and the shirt he wore beneath, always and forever evening out the creases in his appearance, whatever the circumstances.
	“I’d like to take you somewhere tonight,” he said, grabbing for his jacket where it was slung over the chair.
	“Take me somewhere. . . ?”  I said uncertainly.
	“Yeah,” he said with a slight smile.  I wasn’t sure what had prompted it, but I was glad for it.  He hadn’t smiled much lately.  He began to look around the mostly quiet warehouse.  It wasn’t a fight night, hadn’t been since the Manoratha men had shifted their focus to producing the cards.  His gaze settled on Rory, who’d been spending a lot more time around here of late, likely because the men kept tossing him coins.  
	The little rat seemed to be picking up on the mounting danger though, and I wondered how long it would be before we’d stop seeing him.  He’d gotten quieter and more reserved, clearly still finding our acquaintance worth his while, but keeping his head low.  I was a little worried for him.  He was probably safer in this city than me, all things considered, but I still wondered if this was the right kind of place for a child.
	He perked up when we approached, though.  “Ey,” he chirped.  “Uh. . . y’need me to fetch something?”
	“You know a good bathhouse?”  Finn asked.
	“Oh, yeah,” the rat got to his feet, “a few.”
	“A bath sounds amazing, actually,” I agreed.  I liked this plan.
	“Let the Admiral know,” Finn said.  “We’ll make an evening of it, all of us.”
	“What?”  I said, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.  “We’re bringing them?”
	Finn smiled, patting my arm.  “Trust me.”

	An entire crew of Privateers invading a bathhouse was. . . exactly the sort of bedlam you’d expect.  Honestly, I don’t know why the establishment allowed us inside, other than that they were afraid not to.  The place was run by a family of squirrels who were clearly wholly unprepared for a dozen some-odd armed men to show up in the waning hours, already half-drunk and assaulting one another.  At least three men fell on the slick stone surrounding the recessed bath before they even made it as far as the water.  Most of them because they’d been shoved or pushed out of the way.
	Finnegan did a much better job navigating the mass of naked bodies nimbly than I did, somehow getting into the water early, and securing a corner spot for himself.  Thankfully he saved space for me, because by the time I made it through the chaos, I was badly in need of a refuge.
	This was a different kind of hell for me than it would be for the poor squirrels who’d have to clean up afterwards, but it was no less cruel.  The Manoratha men were rowdy, unkempt criminals. . . but they were also sailors.  Every one of them worked hard physical labor, many were soldiers or pugilists, and it showed.
	I wanted to throttle Finn.  If he truly thought I should keep my attraction for other men hidden, he couldn’t have invented a worse scenario.
	“Here, I brought my own soap,” he offered it, finally taking note of. . . probably my wandering gaze, because the rest of me was beneath the water.  He guffawed into his hand.  “You gonna be okay?”  He teased.
	“Why.  Would you do this?”  I demanded, grabbing the soap from him.  
	“Oh, they’re just the distraction,” he assured me, glancing back at the men.
	“They are definitely that,” I agreed with a rumble.
	He gave me a scandalized look.  “Tuli, for God’s sake,” he laughed.  “They’re filthy blighters.”
	“I don’t think you like men as much as I do,” I said flatly.
	“To be young again,” he groaned, sighing.  “Alright, finish cleaning up.  We’re slipping out the back.”
	“Huh?”  I blinked down at him.
	“Like I said,” he winked.  “They’re just here to make a scene, so we can go unnoticed.  Come on.”
	I thought, perhaps, that he’d meant we were going to move into another room in this place and. . . enjoy one another’s company, as we hadn’t been able to for days now.  It would have been risky, with a bunch of unruly men so close by who clearly had no respect for personal boundaries or privacy.  But it was pretty telling how alright I was with the idea, regardless.
	What he’d actually meant, apparently, was that we could quickly change and leave the building out a back door while the men were still inside making a ruckus.  He was incredibly careful once we were outside, checking every alleyway, rooftop and corner, before we slipped off into the city.
	“We need to make very certain we’re not followed tonight,” he said in a hushed tone.  “The Jackwalds have been keeping an eye on us, but they aren’t exactly all that subtle about it.  I’m guessing whoever they had keeping watch over us tonight is still waiting outside the bathhouse for us to leave.  They might have even sent someone inside.  Grayson’s boys ought to keep them busy for a while.  Still, keep your eyes peeled for canines.  Any canines, they don’t always wear badges.”
	The streets were practically empty, so it wasn’t hard.  It had been dark for hours at this point, nothing was open, only a few lantern-lights still glowed in windows.  The pier district may have been lively at night, but there wasn’t much of that the further you went in to the city.  Especially not in the garment district, which was where we were headed. 
	“There are probably still plenty of taverns open if we head that way,” I guessed, “or rooming houses.”  I was still holding out hope the two of us were going to find a place to be alone together, somewhere.
	“I know you didn’t like the whiskey, Tuli,” he said, “or the rum, really.  But I’ve noticed you’ve been willing to experience things more, since we came here.”
	“The rum wasn’t as bad,” I admitted.  “Tessa said that you can use it a number of ways in cooking.  That sounds like it’d be good.”
	He snorted back a laugh.  “You were swapping recipes with the streetwalker?”
	“She has five children she raises alone,” I said.  “She knew a lot about cooking with limited resources.  I need to get you to write some of it down for me while I still remember.” 
	“Sure,” he smiled up at me.  “But, ah. . . actually. . . I want to take you somewhere. . . where there are other people like us.”
	That piqued my interest.  “Like us. . . ?”  I repeated, uncertain he meant what I thought.
	“Yes,” he confirmed.  “I. . . I want you to know. . . you’re not alone.”
	“I’m not alone,” I said, confused.  “I have you.”
	He tipped his ears back, not replying, and I immediately felt a stab of reality jolt through me.  All at once, it was clear what this was about.  I stopped walking.
	He turned, looking back at me guiltily.  “This is some kind of send-off,” I said, fear creeping into my voice.  “Isn’t it?”
	“No,” he insisted, putting a hand up.  Then, hesitantly, “Not exactly.”
	“You want me to meet other men like me here,” I said, pointing a claw down at the earth, “so that you can leave, without feeling like you’ve abandoned me.”
	“I want you to know you aren’t alone,” he emphasized.  “It’s always going to be hard, and dangerous, but you aren’t the only one going through it.”
	“I want to keep learning about it from you,” I said.  “It isn’t just about being with you, Finn.  You help explain things I don’t even have words for, everything’s made so much more sense since I met you.”  
	  He sighed.  “Growing up in the Risers was shite, but one thing I always had was a more expansive knowledge of people, of passion, you know?  The full spectrum of love.  From the time I was a pup, I never questioned it really, because it was all around me.  It was our industry, it was a way of life for us.  It was normal.  But that isn’t the case almost anywhere else in the world.  It was a disappointing journey, un-learning the kind of acceptance I grew up with.”  
	He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against a lamppost.  “I feel. . . responsible. . . both for the better and the worst. . . for awakening this inside you, when I knew you might’ve been better off staying naïve to it.”
	“I’ll always be grateful you did,” I insisted.  “It was always there, Finn.  I thought. . . I thought it was just because of my size, that I was too worried I’d hurt a woman, or because I hadn’t met other bears the right age.  I might’ve gone on thinking that was the case for a really long time if I hadn’t met you.  I might have gotten married to the wrong person, never really understanding what was wrong.”
	“You might have met another man eventually,” he reasoned.  “It seems at least that your people have traditions for it, even if your tribe in particular didn’t practice them.”
	“It sounds like your people have traditions for it, too. . . .”
	He shook his head.  “They’re underground, Tuli.  Illegal.  I don’t know the laws in particular in this country, but in Amuresca you can literally be executed over what the two of us have done.  I’ve always told you- you have to be careful.  So far, we’ve been lucky.  But there are places. . . cracks in the wall. . . where it’s safe to do everything a man and woman can do together.  Places where you can meet other like-minded men.” 
	He stepped closer to me, but taking note of his surroundings, even though the street seemed empty, only got so close.  When he spoke, his voice was quiet.  “I don’t know what the next few days are going to bring. . . the next month. . . but I want to know if we’re separated that I’ve imparted as much to you as I can.  Honestly,” he huffed, “I don’t think there’s much I can teach you, at this point.  You’re wiser than me.  In a lot of ways.  But this is one thing I know more about.  I want to share that knowledge with you, while I have a chance.  Since the cork’s off the bottle anyway ”
	I pursed my muzzle, tucking my ears and looking away from him.  
	“I’d. . .” he spoke again, and I turned my gaze back to him just because of how uncharacteristically shy his tone had gotten.  “I’d also,” he dropped his voice further, “like to make love to you.  And there’s something I need that. . . I can’t think where else we’d find it.”
	I sighed.  A long, weary sigh.  He continued to look up at me, hopefully.
	“I think I’ve aged a decade since I met you,” I confessed to him.  “You are absolutely the worst, you know that?”
	He gave a crooked smile.  “I’ve been telling you that since the day we met.”

	The brick storefront in the garment district was about double the width of most of the others in the area, but looked rather decrepit and run-down, at least from the outside.  The lower story was white-washed with old paint that was cracking and peeling in places, the steps up to the front door were crumbling, and the lantern posted outside hung from a bent pole.  It looked like the place had been re-purposed from an old tonic shop, judging by the outline of what had once been a sign hung between the first and second story.
	There was no sign posted at all any more for the shop, and those same purple drapes I’d seen earlier blocked out every window.  The front window display area was fairly bare compared to most of the others in this district, which were crowded with whatever products they sold inside.  This one only had a few headless wooden busts displaying mens’ waistcoats.
	Tellingly though, unlike most of the other shops in the area, both the lower and upper windows of the unnamed shop were clearly lit inside, and I could hear the muffled sounds of voices from within, as well as music.
	As we approached the gated ‘yard’ around the front door, little more than a sidewalk really, I couldn’t help but note the man standing just inside the gate.  He was a bear.  Much smaller than me, but still larger than most people.  His fur was a honey-colored brown, I’m not certain where he originated from, but he wore Otherwolf clothing, including a dark purplish, almost plum-colored vest that made me feel like I might be able to pull off the color.  He was obviously very strong of body, so clearly a guard, but if the man’s physique wasn’t an indication of that the rifle leaned against the lamppost near him was.
	He eyed us as we approached, trying to do so subtly.  But once we’d made it up to the gate and it became clear we were here specifically to enter the place, he addressed us face-to-face.  “Beautiful night, eh lads?  By God’s grace.”
	“God’s grace has never been with me,” Finn replied.
	The bear smirked slightly at him, then opened the gate for us and stepped aside.  “Silver apiece for the atmosphere, and use of the rooms,” he said, gesturing to the entrance with the crimson red door frame ahead of us.  The paint they’d used was glaring, even in the dark.  “You can pay the hostess inside.”
	Finn nodded to him, saying a quick, “Thank you.”
	As we moved past the man, and I’m certain my gaze lingered on him longer than was socially appropriate, (I didn’t get to see many other bears, I was still fascinated by my own people) the guard smirked at me and appraised me right back.  
	I blanched, looking away.  I heard him speak once more from behind us as Finn approached the door, a clearly fondly-meant, “Lucky bastard.”
	Finn smiled out of the side of his muzzle at me.  I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you,” even though I’m not certain I should have responded.
	Finn shook his head.  “He meant me, Tuli.”
	“Wh-“ I glanced back over my shoulder.  “But. . . no.  I’d be the ‘lucky’ one, because you’re-“
	“One of these days, you might have to start accepting that you’re gorgeous,” he rolled his eyes, pushing open the door.  “Come on.”
	We stepped into what was essentially a hostess area, like in most inns.  Except this one had curtains up separating the waiting area, blocking the rest of the establishment from view.  A mink in a tightly laced-up red dress was sitting behind the hostess stand, eyeing us curiously as we entered.  Her eyes roamed up the length of me, as well.
	Or wait. . . was she a. . . ?
	“Silver a head,” she repeated the bear’s price from outside, opening a lockbox and taking the coins Finn offered her.  While she put the money away, I saw him looking towards the curtained doorway that clearly led into the rest of the establishment.  It was also painted that bright, crimson red.
	“You do that here too, huh?”  He asked casually.
	“Makes the zealots real obvious,” she replied in a somewhat husky voice.
	“Why. . . what?”  I asked uncertainly.
	“It’s a Huudari practice,” Finn explained.  “Another culture’s religious ritual,” he said more specifically.  “The men from my country who zealously follow the Faith see it as a bad omen.  An invitation to demonic corruption and sin.”
	“Well we’re all sinners here, don’t you know,” the. . . woman?  The mink said, leaning over the hostess stand with an amused smile.  
	“We used to do it in the Risers, too,” Finn said.  “If someone crosses your threshold and they bow their head in prayer, there’s a good bet they’re praying for protection because they’re following dogma.  Lets you know who to look out for.”
	“Uh. . .” I glanced at the mink.  “If I bow my head, it’s just because I. . . have to.  The door’s a little low for me.”
	“I figured, honey,” she chuckled.
	Past the curtain, I could hear the sounds of a normal tavern.  Just the hum of conversation, the creaking of tables and chairs, and the lilting melody of string instruments being played.  I followed Finn as he parted the curtain, whispering to him as we went, “Was that a woman?  She smelled. . . .”
	“If you aren’t certain how she’d like to be addressed, ask,” he explained simply.  
	“Oh,” I said.  That. . . made sense.  
	The place was, in almost every regard, a tavern.  Or I suppose more like a bar?  I didn’t smell that they were preparing any food, they only seemed to serve drinks here.  And by the scent of it in the air and the thin veil of smoke curling along the ceiling, they might have sold things to smoke here, too.  Or people just brought a lot of their own.
	There were a dozen or so patrons, looking around the area I could immediately see.  Many were canine and dressed like most of the denizens of this city.  Some were dressed finer than others, their waistcoats and vests embroidered or beautifully-accented, fur immaculately-groomed.  Some wore simple jewelry like rings and gold and silver chains dangling from their pockets.  It could have been any high-end bar in the city, really.
	Except for the large, bare-chested canine behind the bar, and the three other men in the dining and lounge area who were wearing little, or nothing at all.  
	I wasn’t sure where to rest my eyes.  My anxiety spiked the moment I stepped through the threshold, uncertainty freezing me in place.  Finnegan noticed and immediately reached for me, laying his hand on my arm.  I jerked away from him instinctively, my fears, honed by months of worry at this point, screaming at me that we had eyes on us- we shouldn’t be touching one another.
	“Hey,” he eased, turning to look at me with concern laden in his eyes.  “Hey, it’s alright.  Is this too much?  We can leave.”
	“I’m. . .” my tongue felt dry.  “Is this. . . are we safe to. . . ?”
	One of the men in here was an older otter, sitting near the back of the main lounge area, alongside a lean canine man who looked to be around his age.  They were just talking and drinking, but I think catching sight of him was reminding me of those bad moments with my father.  And that was bringing back some of the shame, which was making me wonder if I was supposed to look at the men here who were showing their bodies, or. . . .
	“We can go,” Finn said again, gingerly taking my hand.
	Oddly, it was that. . . looking down at where our fingers were intertwined and then back up at the room. . . and seeing how absolutely no one was reacting to it. . . that was what was firmed my resolve.
	“N-no, I want to stay,” I insisted.  Finn seemed uncertain, so I insisted, “I’m alright.”
	He gave a fragile smile back and squeezed his small fingers around mine.  “Okay.  Here, let’s find a quiet place to sit for now.”
	The room had a calm atmosphere about it in general, so that wasn’t hard.  We walked by the bar, the muscular, crop-eared canine who was working there nodding at us.  He had jewelry in his nose and pierced through the dark nipples buried in his chest fur, which reminded me more of tribal jewelry than any I’d seen in the Otherwolf lands.  But he was clearly a dog, and the jewelry was made of gold, which their people favored more than ours.  I. . . liked it, it was just. . . new.  He asked us if we wanted anything and Finn said he’d order once we’d settled in, and we continued on through the lounge area.
	We passed one of the nude men, a dark auburn fox, in a section of the place dominated by padded chairs and couches, usually arranged in squares with tables in the middle.  A group of four men in suits were gathered there, smoking from an unusual glass contraption out of an odd pipe.  The smoke smelled strange and cloying.  The fox was comfortably draped between two of the mens’ laps, sharing the pipe with one of them.  One of the canine men with him caught my eye for a moment and looked irked, likely because I’d been staring again.
	I glanced away quickly.  Finn brazenly wrapped an arm fully around my back, or at least as much as he could.  “It’s a lot at once, I know,” he said, softly.  “Don’t worry about looking at the fellows who aren’t dressed.  Most of them work here.  And. . . uh. . . the boar in the left-hand corner there, he wants you to look at him.”
	“How do you know?”  I asked him.
	He sighed.  “Experience.  Not one of those things I can easily explain.  It’s like how I knew what the purple drapes meant.  There are a lot of subtle ways of communicating things, when the law forbids you to say them or practice them out loud.  But in a place like this, no one’s going to fault you too hard for not getting everything right, or having to ask.  Some men might be nervous, might get snappish, but this is supposed to be a safe haven and the people in charge usually insist on keeping things peaceful inside.”  
	We rounded the corner of the L-shaped lounge area, a staircase to the second story separating the front area from the back.  This was where the music was coming from.  Along the back wall was a slim stage area near a cleared portion of the floor.  Two men were playing instruments I knew by now to be ‘violins’.  Both were martens, wearing crisp white shirts, black britches and black suspenders, and though judging by the shades of their fur they likely weren’t related, they played in harmony together very intimately.  
	They might have been mates, I realized.  I couldn’t assume, but. . . here. . . it was actually a possibility.  
	It was hard to come to terms with the fact that as we sat, Finn’s hand was still on my back.  And no one had said anything.  We chose a padded couch near one of the walls, with a small table in front of it.  All the furniture in this place was as obviously re-purposed as the space itself.  Nothing matched, a lot of the ‘tables’ were just overturned crates with fabric draped over them, the walls had draperies or oddities from the city hung in places to cover damaged sections, but. . . the longer I spent here, the more I enjoyed it.  Everywhere you looked, there was something interesting to see.  Everything was unashamedly colorful, unlike the dismal state of brown everywhere outside and in most other taverns.  There were even parts of the interior brick facing that had been painted into colorful murals, featuring. . . oh.  
	Finn must have seen me staring at one.
	“Ah, yes,” he chuckled, “that’s a play on the ‘Seduction of the Venus Vulpine’, I think.”
	“Should I know what that is?”  I asked, entranced by the very. . . graphic painting.
	“A famous work of art in the Bishop’s Cloisters in Amuresca,” he explained.  “Obviously in the original the ‘Seductress’ is a vixen.  And it’s less, uh. . . penetrative.  But I approve of the direction this artist chose to take the piece in.”  
	As my eyes scanned the room, being as careful as I could not to linger anywhere too long, I caught sight of one patron here that stood out more than anyone else, immediately.  He was actually fully-clothed.  But I recognized him.
	I’d only seen one other canine in the city with a tan hide covered in paint-like, black and white blotches, and big black ears.  It had to be him.  He was sitting alone in the opposite corner of the room, with a bottle of something at his table.  Other than that, he mostly seemed to be listening to the music.
	Finn cleared his throat.  “I saw him, too,” he confirmed.
	“Akachi,” I said.
	“Hardly surprising,” Finn shrugged, lifting a hand to get the attention of one of the servers.  “Grayson has a few hundred men in his fleet, just a dozen blocks or so from here.”
	“How many people like us. . . are there?”  I asked, trying to get as comfortable as I could on the cushioned ‘couch’.  It wasn’t half bad, but I felt like I was missing something.
	“I can’t say I know,” he shook his head.  “I’ll say this much, it certainly seems more common when you’re rich- likely because they have less to fear.  I think there are probably a lot of people out there who just don’t even know or understand their feelings.  And they might never have the chance to.”
	“I was definitely confused,” I agreed.
	At that point, a slim young feline approached us with a tray with several used glasses on it.  He was gray and white-furred, and his body-type reminded me of Finn’s.  I kind of wanted to pet his belly, but I of course didn’t.  “I can come back around in a bit if you gents aren’t decided yet,” he said with an easy and very natural smile.
	“No, it’s fine.  Islander Caife, for me.  And, uh-“ Finn glanced at me.
	“Can you make anything with rum that tastes good?”  I asked bluntly.
	The cat laughed.  “Sensitive palate, huh?  Yeah, I’m sure Bruce can manage to put together something you’ll like.  Cider?  You like cider?”
	“I do,” I said, smiling a little.  The cat’s sweet disposition was infectious.
	“Rum folds into Cider like me in a pair of big, strong arms,” the feline twittered, winking at me.  
	He lingered long enough that I realized he might be expecting me to say something.  I only halfway managed.  “Oh,” I stammered, “I-uh. . . .”
	“He doesn’t know how to flirt,” Finn said partially around his hand, which was hiding what I’m sure was a shit-eating grin.
	“I-I’m. . .” I glanced at Finn, “We’re. . . .”
	“Oh, no problem,” the cat assured us both, still smiling as he looked between us.  “Will you be needing a room later?”
	“Yes,” Finn said before I could.  “But not for a bit.”
	“I’ll bring a key by with your drinks,” he said.  “Corresponding number’s on the door, alright?  If you intend to stay late, let us know.”
	As he moved off, I felt Finn shifting beside me, then the weight of his legs settling in my lap.  He’d turned to rest his back against the arm of the couch, stretching his legs out.  “Lord,” he rumbled contently, “every house should be mandated to have one of these by law.”
	“A couch?”  I asked, testing how it felt against my back.  I suppose it was nice.  But having Finn resting any part of himself across my body had definitely been what it was missing.
	“A big, soft bear,” he replied, smirking lazily at me.
	I smiled hesitantly, reaching down to brush a palm over his leg.  Then a bit further, up over his knee.  That’s as far as I went, but. . . it was nice. . . being able to touch him casually, in a public place.  Well, semi-public.  Hidden away from the rest of the city, in a secret club, in the middle of the night.
	Still.
	Our drinks came soon, and mine was incredible.  Warm cider with spiced rum was going to be up there with pie for me from now on.
	“Oh, spirits,” I said, tilting my head back after I’d finished my first of what would certainly be many.  “Finn.”
	“Hmm?”  He asked over the rim of his own steaming drink.
	“You could drink this with pie.”
	He snorted, putting his cup down.  He began to say something, but at that point the music picked up.  The two violinists had been playing gently and peacefully since we’d come in, but they’d moved on to something livelier and the instruments had begun to take up that plucky, playful tone that I’d so distinctly heard in some of the frontier town taverns.
	An overpowering wave of nostalgia washed over me.  The Wayward Inn, not four. . . five?  Months ago.  It felt like another life.  I hardly remembered the man I’d been then.  But I remembered seeing him for the first time.  
	Someone had been playing one of these instruments then, too.  I’d watched the crowd gather in the lively space, clear tables in the middle of the dining room floor and then, without shame, some of them had begun to dance.  I remembered how entertaining it had been to watch them, but simultaneously how strange.  I hadn’t realized what I’d been feeling then, but I knew it acutely, now.  Longing.
	It had been so easy for them, the first woman and man, to begin dancing.  They were probably strangers.  Maybe they knew one another from town.  Maybe.  But if they’d been strangers, it would have been fine.  
	Finnegan Ambrose had been a stranger to me then, too.  I remembered watching him descend the staircase- how he’d immediately caught my eye.   I’d watched him cross the crowded room, and-
	He’d been watching them dance, too.  Was he feeling the same thing I was, back then?
	Finn could have danced with a woman.  I could, too.  My people danced, of course.  I loved dancing with my tribe.  I could dance with the other men in my tribe, or other tribes when they came to visit, even.  But it wasn’t just about the dancing.  It’s about what it meant.
	Dancing was a celebration.  Of life, of death, of marriage and prosperity, of homage to the spirits.  Of love.
	I loved Finn.  But no one would ever celebrate that fact.  Would they?
	“Are we allowed to dance here?”  I heard myself asking.
	Finn put his mug down, looking earnestly shocked.  “I-uh. . . yeah.  Pretty sure.  They must have cleared the floor there for a reason.”  He slipped his legs off of me, tilting his muzzle up towards me.  He looked impishly hopeful.  “Really, Tuli?”
	I sighed.  “We’re hidden away from prying eyes in a bar no one will confess they’ve ever visited.  I can’t think of a better place to make an ass of myself.”
	“Shit, yes, alright,” he said, the words tumbling out him as quickly as he got up.  He shrugged out of his jacket, then straightened his vest, offering a hand down to me.  I took it and stood.  I hadn’t worn a jacket tonight, I’d found the weather down this far south too warm for winter clothing in general.  So there wasn’t much to forestall going out onto the floor with him, save my rising nerves.
	I hadn’t really thought this through.  Once we got there, two things became clear to me very suddenly.  For one, we were the only ones out there.  Which. . . while it seemed likely the uplifting music had been meant to elicit dancing, it was hard to be the first.  A few months ago, I would have been absolutely paralyzed by the mere thought.  But then there was the second problem.
	“I don’t know any Otherwolf dances,” I confessed to him once we got out there.  “And most of my people’s dances- that I know, anyway- involve a group.”
	“Just follow my lead,” he said, his eyes alight from the lanterns.  “I’m not a real study, either.  Not like my mother or Mikhail, anyway.  But I think we can figure out the basics together.”
	I smiled uncertainly.  He wrapped an arm around my hip and lower back, and I did the same, my palm covering most of the small of his back.  He brushed a hand up over my clavicle and let it rest in the fur along my shoulder, beneath the collar of my shirt.  I put a paw over his shoulder as well.
	And then we. . . sort of. . . danced.  I think.  I don’t know how well I managed to follow his steps, but it felt nice.  It hardly mattered how well we were doing, or that people had begun to stare at us.  I was more focused on him.
	I guess we did alright, because like my brothers waiting for me to test the icy waters of the river in the spring before they all jumped in, other patrons began to drift to the floor before long.  The first to join us was actually the feline server, who was much better at moving his body than either of us, I quickly decided.  Needless to say, he was quickly joined by one of the sharply-dressed, clearly wealthier canines who’d been sitting alone.  And then the older otter and canine joined, as well.  They turned out to be the best dancers on the floor, and Finn and I eventually tried to mimic some of the things they were doing, which resulted in some amused laughter from the two older men.
	An hour, and many drinks later, the place had gotten livelier and busier, and Finn and I were thoroughly danced-out.  We’d spent some time talking to a few of the other men who’d danced with us- the otter was a tribesman trader who’d met his mate working barges on the Roseline nearly a decade ago, which really gave me hope.  They’d been together this long by passing as business partners and moving frequently, although they did confess they were getting on in years and hoping to find some place to retire soon. 
	The feline server had long since taken the well-to-do canine upstairs, and while I felt a bit conflicted knowing it was likely because coin had changed hands, I understood for many men in our position, finding a mate was simply not an option.  I hoped they at least both got what they needed out of it.
	When Akachi came over to us, I wasn’t shocked.  He’d watched us dance, I know he’d obviously recognized us and must have known we’d recognized him too by now, but we’d all been respecting one another’s privacy.  He paused before entering our space, but Finn and I both nodded at him to do so.
	Finn was a little more afflicted by his spirits than I was, I think.  He’d had half as many as I had, but he was a much smaller person.  He wasn’t drunk, but he’d gotten a lot more lethargic and seemed to require much more of my attention.  Which I’ll admit, I was into my cups enough that I didn’t mind.  The last time we’d come back from dancing, he’d deposited himself squarely into my lap, and I had wrapped an arm loosely around him and let him stay there since.  The warmth of his body bled through our clothing, his head resting against my chest, his weight solid in my arms.  It was hard to think of anything else.
	“I won’t bother you two for long,” Akachi said gently.  “I just wanted to tell you. . . I think you’re beautiful together.”
	His earnest statement stunned the both of us silent.  Finn looked particularly astonished.
	“Knowing two souls can find one another, and find solace together, despite the adversities I know you have endured,” he said, “it gives me hope.”  He leaned back, his petal necklace catching in the lantern-light, making me wonder what he’d left behind in the land it had come from.  
	“Thank you,” I said, because Finn still hadn’t found words.
	The painted dog smiled once more, then moved off back towards his own table.  I looked down at Finn, unable to hide my own smile.
	He stared up into my eyes a moment longer, then leaned up and kissed me.  My heart beat wildly in my ears, the sounds of music and conversation surrounded us, strangers surrounded us. . . and I was kissing the man I loved.
	Other than a playful whistle from off somewhere in the room, no one bothered us.  Finn lifted his hand in the direction of said whistle and made a gesture I’d since learned was an Otherwolf hand-sign for ‘fuck off’, which prompted a peel of laughter from wherever it had come from.
	“Mmmhhhh. . . alright,” he said at length, pulling back to catch his breath.  “Find our room upstairs, will you?  The number’s on the key.  I need to get something. . . .”

	   
	It wasn’t hard to find the door to our room upstairs, but once I’d found it I wasn’t sure if I should go in without him, so I waited in the hallway.  The whole place wasn’t laid out any differently than most Inns or Rooming Houses I’d been to, so I’m not sure just exactly why I was frozen outside that door.  I’d gotten settled in a room before while waiting for my friends.
	Finnegan and I had talked, a few times now, about ‘making love’, as he called it.  What we’d done together so far certainly counted, but there were other things we still hadn’t done, and I wasn’t certain what he’d be comfortable allowing me to.  I think, or rather I knew, (because he’d told me as much) that he was concerned about my comfort, too.  He likely assumed I’d be hesitant to try much outside of what we’d already proven worked, which we both knew we enjoyed by this point.  And to be fair, other than the few talks we’d had where he’d told me what we could do together, I hadn’t ever asked or pushed our boundaries.
	Tonight felt like a night to do that.  And I knew him well enough by now to realize that if I didn’t speak up, if I didn’t make it clear that I wanted it- wanted everything, he’d probably be hesitant to do so himself.  Ever since the first night in the woods when I’d ground myself against his hip in my sleep and he’d touched me for the first time, without realizing it had been my first, he’d done nothing without my explicit approval.
	So when he arrived, coat slung over his arm with a lazy smile on his muzzle, I felt my heart skip.  I was going to be more assertive tonight.  I had to keep telling myself that. 
	“You could have gone inside,” he reasoned, sidling up alongside me. 
	“I wanted to wait for you,” I said, finally putting the key in the lock and turning it.  As I opened the door, he curled an arm up over my shoulders and pulled himself into a kiss, and in what was becoming an instinct by now, I palmed his rear and lifted him up, pushing the door the rest of the way open with a bump of my hips.
	He chuckled against my muzzle as I backed us inside, then deftly kicked the door closed.  The room had an un-lit lantern and a potbelly stove that had clearly been used recently but was no longer lit, but there must have been a street lantern near to our window outside, because there was still plenty of light for us to see by filtering in through the purple drapes.  It reminded me of dusk light in the mountains, thanks to the color.
	The room was plenty warm from the heat coming up from the tavern beneath, so we didn’t bother re-lighting the stove, either.  We were pretty. . . occupied by that point, anyway.
	I held him crushed against my chest, one of my palms firmly cupping his rear to hold him in place, the other on his upper back.  His muzzle was warm, pliant and tasted vaguely of the drink he’d been having.  It didn’t take us long to move past chaste kisses, his tongue swiping past my teeth, curling against my own.  I’d found it strange the first time we’d done this, but now I loved the feel of his tongue playing with my own.  I hoped many more things we tried would be like that.
	For the first time since I’d begun holding him like this, suspended in my arms, the size disparity between us really set in for me.  I was, of course, always acutely aware of the practical issues that arose from my size.  But when Finn and I were being intimate, I’d always enjoyed it.  I liked that I could pick him up so easily, I liked putting my hands on his lean, far smaller body, and watching him straddle and conquer mine.  He clearly delighted in it, so I’d always thought- well at least here, my size is a boon.
	But considering what I was hoping for tonight. . . .
	My shins hit the edge of the bed I’d been moving towards, so I lowered him down and dropped him back onto the blankets, dragging in a long breath once I had a chance to.  He stretched his lithe body out bonelessly on the mattress, arching his back and groaning softly.  “Good beds here,” he said.
	I spread my palms over each of his thighs, brushing them down over the apex of his hip-bones beneath his britches.  I just about lost my composure when he arched his slim hips up into my touch.  “You have,” I breathed out, “no idea how appealing you are right now.”
	“I’m still dressed,” he chuckled, but it was a nefarious chuckle.  He knew.
	I leaned down to rest my arms on either side of him, pressing my muzzle down into the juncture beneath the edge of his vest, and his britches.  I dug my nose in, taking the scent of him in.  “I like the way you look in your clothes,” I said.  I couldn’t see his face, but I heard him give a lurid chuckle.  “But I’d also like it if you’d take them off now.”
	I felt and heard him unbuttoning his vest, his breathing coming a little faster as he did so.  He lifted his shoulders for a moment to shrug out of it, and as he did so I bit at his belly, catching the lower expanse of his cotton shirt in my teeth, and tugging it out from where it was tucked into his britches.  One of his hands curled around and cupped one of my ears, while I dragged his shirt halfway up his chest.  But once I had access to his naked stomach, I abandoned the rest of the shirt for him to take care of.
	I loved to nuzzle my way up and down his body.  He certainly seemed to enjoy it as well, stroking and rubbing my ears as I snuffled my muzzle through his fur, found the small peaks of his nipples beneath his chest scruff and swiped my tongue over them.  I loved how easy it was to elicit a reaction from him when I did it too, quick inhalations and shudders.  When one of my paws moved up between his legs and rubbed, I got a keening moan.
	Other than. . . certain areas. . . I don’t think my body was as sensitive as his.  I had thicker skin, thicker fur.  When we were enjoying one another like this, before we got to the very intimate spots, I think I liked giving more than I did receiving.
	Although it did make wearing britches uncomfortable.
	Speaking of.
	“God, please,” Finnegan suddenly groaned, breaking from a kiss with me and fussing with the hem of his lower garments.  He’d since lost everything above the waste.  “I need to get these off,” he begged.
	I grinned, leaning up so he could unfasten them.  While he did that, I straightened up and pulled my own shirt over my head, peeling it off and discarding it on the floor.  Good riddance.  While I worked to rid myself of the accursed britches as well, I was briefly held up watching Finn do the same.  He had to remove his spats first, which. . . was really cute.
	Seizing on a sudden desire, I moved forward and took one of his calves in hand and waited for him to finish unbuttoning the foot and calf covering.  He stilled, smiling almost shyly at me, flexing a foot paw.  “Uh,” he looked down at his compromising position, “you want to help?”
	I nodded and gingerly tugged one of his spats off, before we moved to do the other.  I rubbed his paws gently as he did, and he groaned, briefly losing focus on what he was doing.  “Your hands are so strong,” he rumbled.  “I have got to make use of that later. . . .”
	“I don’t mind,” I shrugged.  “I just like touching you.”
	I helped him remove the last of his clothing before doing so myself.  There was something calming and incredibly intimate about it, and it made me feel emboldened.  As if I’d finally become less passive in all of this.
	Finn’s cock was so gorgeous to me.  It was different than my own, but that didn’t bother me.  I guess I’d gotten used to the idea of looking different than the people around me, so I wasn’t dead set on anything having to look a certain way.  I liked the dark pink color against his black fur, I liked the shape and. . . yes. . . the size.  If he’d been larger like me, I’m not sure I would have been able to handle it like he was.
	He was already lying near the edge of the bed, his calves off the side, which was honestly perfect.  I lowered myself to my knees in front of him and rubbed my muzzle up between his legs, growling contentedly.  His knees splayed to the sides for me and his hand was back on my head, playing with one of my ears.
	We hadn’t had a lot of chances to be together since the Basin, but we’d had a room together, a few chances on the ship, maybe a dozen moments all-in-all.  And by this point I was probably doing this more for him than he was for me.  I loved taking him into my muzzle, cupping my tongue around him and listening to him moan.  We usually had to be so careful about noise, it was rare he didn’t have to bite it all back.
	Tonight was one of those rare nights we could both let go.  Finn’s full-throated moans as I sucked and lapped at him were the most immediately satisfying reward I could imagine for pleasing him.  I wanted to hear more.  I wanted him to beg me for more. 
	When I felt the bulge of his knot inside his sheath, I slowed and eased him free of my muzzle with one last long lick from his base to his tip.  I knew what that meant, and I wanted more than that from him tonight.
	He was looking down the length of his body at me, eyes half-lidded and hazy, one of his ears flopped-over in the way it specifically seemed to be when we were together like this.
	“Tuli. . .” he breathed out, voice needful.  
	“You. . .” I had to take a moment to gather myself, my paw drifting between my legs to squeeze at my own achingly hard length.  “You said you. . . got something?”
	He’d explained this to me once.  Just once, and not in detail.  But I had a vague idea about what it was and why we needed it. 
	“My coat,” he said, pulling himself slowly up fully onto the bed.  “Right hip pocket.  Bartender sold it.  These places always have it.”
	I nodded, leaning down to where he’d tossed his coat and fishing out the glass vial.  I handed it up to him on the bed, then stood.  As I did so, his gaze moved down over my body, landing on my own cock, where it hung heavily between my legs.  For a brief moment, in all the time we’d been intimate together, he looked suitably intimidated.
	“You’re certain you’ll be alright?”  I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
	He smiled.  “We’ll make it work, Tuli.  You. . . want to go first, right?”
	I nodded, very certain of that.  “I want you so much, Finn.”  I tried to find some of that assertiveness, as I said it.
	It must have worked, because he gave me that coy smile he got whenever I’d said or done something that made him hot under the collar.  He gestured at me to join him and I moved fully up onto the bed, prowling over his prone form.  He rubbed our muzzles together for a moment, before I felt his palm moving over my length, slick with whatever had been in the vial.  The sensation of his fingers stroking back and forth aided by it was. . . wow.
	I must have been growling, I could feel the rumble in my chest but I had no real control over it.  We were kissing again I think, but my head was spinning, I was already lost in the feeling of this and we hadn’t even started.
	“Like this is. . . okay?”  I asked him, hoping the questions would ground me some.  I looked down at the way our bodies were now, face to face.
	He nodded, lifting his hips to hook his legs around my waist, calves sliding over my rear.  I began to see how this might work, but just seeing his body lying beneath me like that, cock resting against his belly, his paw still stroking my own manhood and teasing it up beneath his tail. . . I felt like the sight alone could un-do me.
	“I am not going to last long,” I said with absolute certainty.
	He gave a husky laugh.  “Neither am I, don’t worry.”  He reached for one of my hands with his free one, curling his fingers around mine and bringing it down between his legs.  He rubbed his slick fingers over mine, urging, “Just. . . try with a finger, first.  Stretch me out a bit?  It’ll make it easier.”
	Hesitantly, I did as he said.  Seeing him arch his back, his muzzle tipping open silently as I sunk a finger in to the knuckle, there was no doubt he was enjoying it on some level.  There was discomfort there too, but that lessened the longer I kept at it.  I kind of. . . wanted to know what it felt like.
	After.
	The moans came when, at his insistence, I tried a second finger.  And that was actually getting pretty close to the width of my cock, so it was probably enough.  I kept at that for about as long as either of us could bear it.  It was Finn who made the call.
	“Please just fuck me already,” he growled out, desperately.  I didn’t need to be told again.  Bracing myself over him, and with a final, hungry kiss, I took hold of his hips with one hand and guided myself beneath his tail with the other.  I tried to go slowly, but we were both so eager at that point, we might have slid our hips together at the same time and gone a little too hard at the start.
	He cried out into my mouth, but when I tried to move my muzzle away, he grabbed for me and pulled me back into a kiss.  “Keep going,” he insisted wantonly.
	I’d been worried I wouldn’t really know how to move, but it was pretty obvious once I was inside him.  My body knew what to do.  The motions weren’t much different than anything else we’d done, but it’s hard to overstate how different it felt.  He was so warm, so tight around me, his body dragging me back into it on each thrust.  I managed to take him a little bit deeper the longer I kept at it, and at a certain point his breathless, until then very soft moans, suddenly got deeper-throated and intense.  
	“Tuli. . . fuuuck. . . .” he groaned out headily, clutching at the blankets in his fists.  He tilted his white-furred throat back, pink tongue peeking out, eyes jade slivers.  His knot was fully out, cock leaking onto his own stomach.  I don’t think he’d ever looked more alluring to me.
	“There-yes-!”  He cried out, throwing a hand down between his legs to squeeze his cock.  “Just like that!”  He urged, stroking himself.
	I don’t know what I was doing right, but I wanted to watch him fall apart even more, I wanted to hear those unrestrained moans and the silly profanity that would fall out of him when he was close to finishing.  I kept up doing exactly what had been working, and I wasn’t disappointed.
	“Fuck, Tuli, unhhhh- FUCK!”  He threw his head back entirely, moaning sharply as he spilled in long stripes across his dark chest fur, his body shaking violently and still shuddering with my thrusts.  I did not last long after that.
	I probably should have withdrawn, I realized belatedly.  But by the time I thought to, I was deep in the throes of my own pleasure and every instinct inside me was screaming to stay inside him.  It’s not a good excuse, but. . . I’d never done this before.  So maybe I should be forgiven for my lack of common sense.
	All of that sort of comes flooding back to you in the wake of your climax.  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like looking at the mess I’d made of him.  And he seemed pretty damn pleased, himself.
	We lay there beside one another for a long time afterwards, kissing, nuzzling, and touching.  Finn tended to rebound faster than I did, unless I’d had his knot in my muzzle when he’d finished.  It was an odd quirk of his body, but one I’d caught on to pretty fast.  And in this case it suited us just fine.
	We’d agreed some time ago that when we tried this, we’d try it both ways, to see which suited us better.  I was even more eager to know how it felt now that I’d experienced it from the one side.  And other than some stiffness when he got to his knees, Finn seemed alright.  But I’ll admit. . . I was still pretty glad he was so much smaller than me.  I don’t know if I had the boundless appetite for ‘challenge’ he seemed to.
	“Knees,” he said the one word like a declaration.  I liked confident, authoritative Finn, when he allowed himself to be so.
	I turned onto my belly, my weight ensuring most of me was pretty well in contact with the soft mattress.  I could still get a paw between my legs though, which I was quite keen to do.  I glanced back over my shoulder, watching him move in behind me with the smuggest grin I think I’d ever seen on him.  Which was saying something.
	“You don’t want to look at me while you mount me?”  I teased him over my shoulder.
	“There are parts of you I want to look at more,” he replied evenly, spreading his palms over the expanse of my rear, before giving one side a playful, light smack. 
	“Oh,” I said unexpectedly.
	He laughed.  “Please tell me you liked that.  That would make my night.  I mean, it’s already been. . . amazing. . . .”
	“I don’t know, I think, maybe?”  I hummed uncertainly.  “Might need to try it a few more times.”
	“Where have you been all my life, bear?”  He crooned, slicking his cock in his hand, while the other began to probe inside me.  
	It was. . . I wasn’t sure I liked it at first.  My body sort of fought the intrusion, which he tried to ease by going especially slowly, and reminding me to relax in a soothing voice.  I had always been pretty bad at ‘relaxing’.  
	But patience won the day.  And soon, while I wasn’t certain I was feeling the kind of pleasure he seemed to have, I didn’t mind the sensation of his fingers inside me.  That changed when he replaced them with his cock.  While his fingers had been about the same width, his cock went deeper.  And that’s when I began to feel it.
	I think if it had literally been anyone else, I wouldn’t have been able to trust them enough to enjoy it.  But I loved Finn, I’d been through hell with him, and I deeply believed that he’d never hurt me. 
	The pleasure I felt from having him inside me wasn’t like anything else we’d done.  It was tenuous, deep, slow and building, like a muscle coiling.  And I didn’t feel as though I had much control over it.  Eventually I took my paw off my cock entirely, because it had begun to feel over-sensitized.  
	“It’s alright if you can’t cum,” Finn huffed breathlessly, his nose in the fur along my back, body bowed over mine.  He was taking me faster than I’d managed, rutting up beneath my tail steadily.  He’d been quieter than when I’d been inside him, but I could feel his need in the eagerness with which he took me, in his panting breaths, the way he shuddered from time to time.  Knowing how much he was enjoying himself was probably what drove that heat inside me more than anything, when we were together like this.  I wanted to watch him, feel him, smell him, hear him-
	I’m not sure what it was, but one of his moans, and the way he jerked his hips up inside me just. . . did me in.  It had been slow building but when it hit it hit hard, and I didn’t even have time to put my paw back down there and stroke.  I just dug my nose into the blankets and gutturally bayed, my cum spattering the bedspread and my own fur, trapped between the two.
	Finn swore fiercely and re-doubled his efforts, hiking a leg up and pounding down into me.  He took considerably longer to finish the second time, and I was just beginning to come back to myself when I felt the swell of his knot threatening.
	I couldn’t know when we’d have the chance to do this again.  So when he began to pull back, I uttered a pleading, “I want. . . all of you.  Please.”
	Even still, he hesitated.  I pushed my hips back, and he let out a long breath, before finally giving the last, forceful thrust.
	It was a lot at once.  We honestly might have benefited from trying this a few more times before we’d gone that far.  But the discomfort was brief, and then he was fully inside me, a moan that was nearly a sob echoing off the walls of our room.  I’m not even sure if it came from him, or me.
	It took quite a while for us to uncouple.  We spent most of that time lying there catching our breath, Finnegan splayed out atop me, his weight more comforting than any blanket.  I was so. . . so deeply relaxed, I was briefly afraid we’d fall asleep like that. 
	“I want to fall asleep with you like this, every night,” I mumbled exhaustedly.
	He snickered against my fur.  “Knotted?”
	“No, I meant-“
	“I know,” he said softly, stroking my back.  “I. . . want that, too.”
	“Then stay with me,” I said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
	He sighed.
	“Odina can bring the cards back to Tawnahowac,” I said.  “You and I can take the time to figure out how we settle this thing with Gezan.  My commitment to my family is fulfilled, and we won’t need to involve them in the rest of it.”
	“I won’t ask you to put my well-being over your family’s,” he said.
	“People grow up and leave their tribes, Finn,” I said.  “To fish, to trade, to marry.  It doesn’t mean I can’t come back.  We just have something we have to do first.”
	“Something that could kill you.”
	“Fishing could kill me,” I said, pointedly.  “The river is very dangerous when it begins to freeze.  Sometimes you have to take risks to prosper and find happiness.  It’s my choice.”	
	“I don’t have the strength,” he said quietly, “to watch you die, Tuli.”
	“I trust you to protect me,” I said.  “We’ll protect one another.”
	We cleaned up and re-clothed ourselves in silence, but it wasn’t a bad silence.  He would reach for me and slide his hand over mine, lean against me while we cleaned ourselves at the wash basin, we helped dress one another. . . I knew his stubbornness was fading.  Even if we hadn’t found the words yet, I think we’d decided.
	And then we sat with one another and kissed, for a long time, and I was certain of it.  
	Maybe this is why the Otherwolves called it ‘making love’.  It was impossible to deny that the act, simple though it was, had brought us closer together.  Being intimate with Finn, every time, had brought my walls further and further down.  Considering how anxious I was about my body in general, that. . . hadn’t been easy.  I couldn’t imagine having done all of this with anyone else.
	Finn went rigid, suddenly.  We’d been sitting with one another in bed and I had him against my chest, so I felt the moment his body stiffened.  And I knew by now when his ears shot up, something was terribly wrong.
	“Shouting,” he said, in a whisper.  “Shh.”
	This time, I heard it.  Many voices, but some barking louder than others.  And then the distinctive, distant slam of a door.  Like when I’d kicked one in.
	“It’s a raid,” he said with absolute terror and clarity, shooting to his feet.
	I got up and immediately went for the door, and he grabbed at my shirt hard, yanking me back.  “No!”  He insisted.  “There’s only one way down.” 
	“How- what do we do?”  I asked, as the noises downstairs grew.  Furniture squawking as it was moved around, crashing as it was knocked over, many shouting voices. . . .
	“The window,” he said quickly, eyes wild.  He hurried to it, unlatching it and forcing it open, shoving back the curtains.
	“We’re on the second story,” I reminded him.
	“It doesn’t fucking matter!”  He cried out.  “Tuli, they will HANG us, do you understand me?!”
	I looked to him mournfully.  “Finn, I’ll. . . I’ll never fit out that.”
	His expression got desperate.  He looked once more to the window, then swore and went to the chair he’d hung his coat over, pulling his flintlock from where he’d hidden it for this trip.  He checked it over briefly, and I noted that for the first time since I’d seen him handle the weapon, his hands were shaking.
	Ferocious banging further down the hallway punctuated his words, as they began to empty out the first of the rooms.  “You listen, alright?”  Finn said, stepping in close to me and putting a palm up over my cheek.  “No matter what, if you get the chance you run-“ 
	“Finn, no. . .” I shook my head, fear closing my throat.
	“They might throw me in a camp, but they will kill you,” he said between his teeth, grabbing me by the muzzle, forcing me to look him in the eyes.  “You RUN, do you understand me?!”
	Before I could answer, he went to the door and opened it, leaning around the doorframe into the hallway long enough to assess the cluttered crowd of men I could only vaguely see out there, before firing the weapon off arced towards the ceiling.  Cries of alarm went up in the hall, and he grabbed for my hand.
	“Now, NOW!”  He yelled.
	We ran.  We passed several men who looked like city guardsmen and a few from the bar who’d hunkered down hiding from the shot, some of them already manacled or forced to the floor.  I saw the feline server among them, naked, beaten and bleeding from the ears.
	We made it about as far as the staircase before we hit the bulk of the invading force of guardsmen.  They were all brandishing clubs, and armed with pistols aside.  But all they needed were the clubs to batter Finnegan down to his knees, before overtaking him.
	I never saw the man who came at me from behind, in the hallway.  Everything just went black.