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Chapter 9: A Talented Orator

We'd yet to see any evidence of pursuit from the buildings behind us, and that alone was enough to send my warning bells off and screaming. With the trail left by English and I, no one would have even the slightest problem tracking us. I wanted to put some paw prints between ourselves and anyone else that she-devil sent to gnaw on my tail.

English was still wearing parts of the snow suit that Smith had made him, how he hadn't overheated I would never know. I guess Smith was even better at making these things than I gave him credit for.

As we hadn't any rope long enough, and I doubted that English would stay down, I grabbed Rebeca's blade and began sawing strips off what remained of the suit. Smith was going to kill me, but that was better than having English do it when he woke.

It took longer than I would ever have expected, the fabric was tough and refused to part before the blade. The only good news was that I doubted English would be able to rip it, even with his claws.

I shouldered my pack, leaving English's over-sized one for Rebeca to drag along, then strained to pull the tawny lug over my shoulders in a fireman's carry. I felt something in my back rip as I almost folded to the ground. I'd forgotten how heavy he was, the cat was almost nothing but muscle.

We made it, although I doubt how far. English was still dead as a log by the time the sun set, and not a soul had come looking for us. We made camp on the edge of the beast's territory, having struck north and joined up with a highway. To our west a small river wound, Rebeca was off gathering water. I sat next to the fire, not wanting to let English out of my sight. I wasn't sure how he'd react when he woke.

I didn't have long to wait and wonder, his eyes snapped open the moment Rebeca had disappeared. His breathing didn't even change. I wondered how long I'd been carrying him since he'd come to. A shiver ran down my spine... he could have dug his claws in to my back at any moment while I'd been lugging him down the highway.

He slowly surveyed the campsite before sitting up, in every motion I could see him shutter. Even from across the fire, I could make out his bound hands shaking in his lap.

"Mate..." He shook his head, throwing off dried blood as he raised his hands slowly to his face. "Mate, I don't want to go."

"English?" I took a cautious step towards him. He looked beaten now, as though he could barely lift the weight of his own arms. "You're going to be okay, man. I was."

He didn't bother to even look up at me, just stared out into the darkness, eyes never quite focusing. "You weren't there, Tommy, you don't know what she did to me..." His throat tightened, for a moment it almost looked as though he had stopped breathing.

I took another step closer, daring to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, his own massive hands coming up to grasp mine. "She wants you dead, Tommy. It would make her happy... I've failed her." I actually saw tears at the edges of his eyes. "But if I kill you... that would make me no better than..."

I sat down beside him, easily within reach of his still bound hands. "I'm sorry I had to do that, English."

"So am I, mate. Is it still here?"

"What? The tea pot? I guess. I put it back in your pack."

"You mind, mate? I could really go for a cup right now." The corners of his lips just barely edged up. "I even have some half decent tea left. They wouldn't let me drink it back there."

Rebeca still hadn't returned, so I emptied what was left in my canteen into the pot and set it above the fire. The pot was ancient, and looked as brittle as starched lace, but it sat above the flames on a green branch, not even discoloring from the smoke. I dug back in its box, looking for the cups, English's eyes never left me as I rooted around in his precious things.

The minutes passed without a word, the only sound was that of steam escaping the pot.

That left me with a problem. There was no way for English to grasp the fragile cups with his hands bound, and I sure as heck wasn't going to be feeding him.

I sighed as I walked forward. "Are you going to promise not to kill me, English?" I knelt down beside him, he didn't even bother to make eye contact.

"No promises, mat." His hands began to shake more violently. "But there isn't much else I have left in this world. You're my... friend, Tommy. I don't want to hurt you."

I untied the knots that bound him and stepped quickly back. His fingers flexed as they came free, he studiously avoided looking up at me.

"Thank you." His voice was little more than a whisper. I handed him a cup, he took it silently, cradling it in his hands as if it were a baby bird. He tried to breathe in the fragrant steam of the tea through his engorged nose, but the action ended up as a snarl. "I can't even smell it." The complaint was more to himself then me.

I sat back down on the other side of the fire, balancing on my haunches. I wasn't sure what I would do if he attacked. My last victory had been more chance than anything else, and I doubted I could repeat it.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Rebeca had barely even had time to give me an idea of how they had been captured. We'd been too busy trying to rescue him.

He shrugged, gazing into the fire. "It's simple, mate. I failed. Everyone. First I let you fall of the side of a smegging mountain, thank you very much for not dying by the way, then we run face first into Mistr... her. She was being carried on a litter by her men." Through the flames, I could see his eyes flicking, never staying in one place, almost as if he were dreaming. "It's all my fault, Tommy. Rebeca alone would have walked right through, that thing doesn't have any interest in her kind."

"But, it was me," His voice was growing softer, I had to strain to hear it over the crackling of the flames. "It wasn't an instant before I was entranced by her... Stupid me, stupid, stupid, me. I actually thought she was beautiful. It's been so long since I've touched a lady... you have Rebeca, who do I have out here? I didn't even think twice as we walked straight towards her."

"English, there was no way you could have known..."

"That doesn't matter!" His voice raised into a snarl, hands almost crushing the cup before he looked down, studying his own reflection in the surface of the tea. "It was my fault, I was supposed to protect her, protect you."

"You weren't supposed to do any such thing, we can take care of ourselves. We're all here together."

"You don't understand, Tommy, I... I made a promise to Sayer, to the police dog."

"Huh?" How did we get to this?

"They arrested me last time I was in the city, put me right back in the same cell as before. Only this time you weren't there to get me out."

"Arrest you? Why?"

"Pick a reason, I'm sure there are dozens, but he never said. He was going to leave me there, Tommy, leave me to die! Sayer, the same man I'd hunted with, founded Storm Front with... he believes you're some kind of messiah, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive. Including going through me."

"But... we're doing this because of the map you found."

"True, mate. The map is real, as far as I know. Sayer gave it to me when he let me go, I had to promise to take you away from the city, even from the humans. As far as I know there's nothing but junked ruins where we're going."

"This is all a sham?"

He shrugged. "Not a sham, mate, just subterfuge. Like I said, the map is real. I just wasn't the one to find it. The police confiscated the owner's ship as soon as it made port. They weren't even expecting to find it, a bonus, all they wanted was the vessel. As for its passengers, I have no idea."

"But how does this tie into that thing back there?" I pointed my thumb south.

"It doesn't, mate. No one knew it was here. If they had, they never would have let you go. Not even Jon is in on this masquerade, he came by his own violation. I'm not even a good spy, the moment we get across the mountains, we're separated. Gods, Tommy, I went to her, I went to her willingly... that thing isn't human, and it isn't like us." He paused for a long moment. "It kept me in its bed chamber... it used me."

The image of meeting him back there washed over me. The memory of the overpowering scent in that room alone sent my head spinning.

"And I wanted it, Tommy, I enjoyed it. That thing sucked me dry, and I begged for more." His pupils closed to slits. "I want to go back, Tommy, let me go back..." His hands stopped shaking. "I need her to take me back. I need to please her."

His head snapped up, muscles exploding outwards as he leapt across the fire at me, claws reaching for my face. I scrambled out of the way, grasping for anything I could to escape him. The only thing within reach was the teapot.

In a single motion, without thinking, I dashed the scalding water of the teapot in his face as he flew towards me. I'm sure his scream could be heard for miles.

Hands flying to his face, he tried to wring the burning liquid from his mane. I grabbed him by the shoulders, it was easy as he ignored me now, and dragged him towards the nearby river. The walk took only moments, but it seemed like hours.

We had only just made it to the water's edge when I thrust him forward. He landed with an almighty splash in the shallows, amongst the reads and lilly pads.

Running back to camp, I met Rebeca there. She handed me the ties I had so recently unknotted. Returning to the lion's side, I dredged him from the water, he was drenched and still, but breathing once I pulled his head above the surface.

I rolled him to his back on the muddy shore and made sure he was still alive. His entire face was swollen now, it matched his nose. Fortunately, it looked like the water hadn't been hot enough to do any permanent damage through his fur.

I bound him again, hand and foot, and slung him over my shoulder as I trudged back to camp. I could felt his weight shift subtly as he awoke, but he didn't say a word. From the corner of my eye, I could see bright purple mucus begin to drool from his nose.

None of us got much sleep that night. Rebeca and I switched off watching him, and I doubt English slept much, as he was the one being watched.

I was hardly able to stand straight the next morning. My back was almost bent over double from the fight yesterday, not to mention carrying the lion's bulk.

"Alright, English," I said, prodding him with a toe, "Time to get up. I know you can walk, and I don't plan on lugging you any further."

He opened his eyes to look up at me, gaze flat and emotionless. "Leave me here."

I laughed. "Fat chance. You think I let you flay my pelt just to dump you at the next opportunity? Get up before I pour some more water on you. This time it'll be cold."

He finally got to his feet with a grumble about 'fascists' that almost sounded like the old English I knew.

More of the purple mucus had drained from his sinuses to paint his face in war colors that matched the burns. I assumed that was a good sign.

"Let's get you cleaned up." I took his shoulder and led him back to the river while Rebeca prepared that last of our packaged food.

"Mate, I'm sorry." Some of the candor had returned to his voice, but he still sounded like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"Don't mention it, buddy. You've forgotten that I was in your situation just a couple of days ago."

"But you didn't try to kill anybody."

"True, that. But I'll have my revenge."

"Eh?"

I gave him just enough time to look over his shoulder before I pushed, sending him cursing and shouting back into the river. I'd learned long ago that the lion hated water, and I planned to make sure my revenge was sweet.

I did have to be careful though. While I wasn't a half bad swimmer, English could do little but sink - especially with his arms tied behind him. I did still make sure to give him a good dunking, and was rewarded with yet more of the putrid purple stuff leaking from him.

"Are you insane, mate!? I said I was sorry. I'm supposed to be the one trying to kill you, not the other way around." I dragged him back to shore. It wasn't much of an improvement, but we were both a touch cleaner now.

Glancing over at him, I had to laugh. I was glad we didn't have a mirror, he'd would just as well have redoubled his efforts to murder me. The scalding water had burned him, alright; it had been enough to cause half the fur on his face to fall out. He looked like a bald monkey wearing a lion costume.

"Are you two done?" Rebeca tossed me a couple packages of dried meat. It wasn't much, but it was one of the few things from back at the Pass that was edible.

I looked over at English... I really didn't want to be getting my fingers close enough to his face to try and feed him. Reaching down, I loosed his bindings enough that he could at least grab the pouch.

I made a face as we ate, this stuff was worse than what they'd fed us back at the witch's place. My canines had no problem shredding the tough leather, but having grown up with meat fresh off the hoof, still bleeding, it was beyond alien. I looked over at English, he was having about the same reaction.

We pulled up the rest of camp, stowing it in the packs as quickly as we could. I wanted to get moving as soon as possible. That left us with a problem - Rebeca was in her pack and I in mine, but English couldn't carry his with both arms bound. We'd been able to make due without him yesterday, but none of us wanted to go through that again.

Walking up to him, I reached out to grasp his chin in my hand, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

"Hey, mate, let go!" He tried to pull back, but I wouldn't let him free. His eyes were clearer today, his voice stronger. I could still smell him though, smell her. He wasn't cured yet, but his dunking had done us some good.

I reached down and slashed through the last of the bonds holding his hands, the tough material took several swipes. We watched it fall to the ground in tatters.

"Well, we can't tie you back up again." I turned and began walking.

"Mate, you shouldn't have..." I didn't bother to turn around as he spoke. Instead, I forced him to follow me so he could be heard.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Rebeca lay a hand on his shoulder before speaking, "You'll be fine, English. At least I didn't have to throw you off a bridge."

"You did what to him!?" The lion raised a hand to his brow, shaking his head as he trotted to catch up with me. "Mate, I'm supposed to be keeping you alive. You remember that, right?"

I gave him a playful shot to the gut as he came into range. "Sure, English, might of helped if you'd told me that at the beginning. Come on, we've got a city to find."

English slowly brightened through the day. At first he would hardly come within reach of us, but by the time night fell he was just short of telling stories of his and Rebeca's trek through the mountains without me.

We made camp that night in the middle of the prairies, seemingly nothing rinsing higher than an anthill on the horizon. We were just off to the side of the highway, an old weather beaten sign marking it as the '2', said it had something to do with the Queen. When I asked English, he just shrugged.

I turned my backpack upside down, dumping all of its meager contents on the ground before me. There wasn't much left.

The last of our packaged provisions were little more than empty wrappers, and Rebeca had burned most of our blankets and towels while I'd been horking up an off-color rainbow. The only thing of note was Jon's bumblebee yellow radio as it clunked to the dirt.

I'd almost forgotten about that thing. With even a touch of luck, Jon might just have a live system on his end by now. I held the radio to my mouth as I pushed down the single button with a mechanical click.

"Uh... hello?"

I wasn't really sure how to use this thing - as far as I could tell there wasn't even a way to tune it. For a moment all I got was the crackle of static, almost sounding like rain on a tin roof.

"Mr. Taggert! Tommy! Tommy! Can you hear me? Come back, Tommy, press the button and say something!" The voice on the other end was panicked and breathless, but definitely Jon's. I'd seen him stare down English in the middle of a murderous rage and never sound like this.

"Jon, relax, it's okay, I'm here."

"Where have you been, Tommy? I've been trying to reach you for over a week." His voice was prenaturally clear over the small speaker, especially considering the distance.

"It's... hah, it's a bit complicated, Jon."

"Is everyone alright, are you okay?"

I looked over at English, off in the distance, setting up his tent, before answering, "Yeah, we'll be okay, eventually." If Jon noticed the pause, he didn't show it.

"There's someone who needs to speak to you, Tommy. Let me see if I can raise him..." His voice trailed off as I heard keys and switches click on the other end of the radio. Who was he trying to find? Was there someone else with him in the Pass other than Renfrew? That seemed unlikely.

A few moments later he was back, his voice had returned some of the clip from when he'd been a cop in V-town. "Mr. Taggert? Good. I'll patch you through now." There was a click and hiss, for a moment I thought I might have been disconnected, then another voice cut in.

"-ommy, Tommy, are you there?"

It took me a moment to place the voice. I hadn't seen him since I'd escaped V-town with English and Rebeca after killing Vanderhoom.

"Max?"

"Tommy! It's great to hear you again, man. I almost thought you were dead..." His voice fell at the end, I could feel a shiver run through me.

"Max, what's going on? What are you doing on a police radio? I thought you were still with Storm Front."

"It's okay, Tommy... I think. The police conscripted us after the SF building burnt down. I've been running radio ever since. They've got every dog and bounty hunter on the streets, trying to keep things sane."

"What about my parents, are my parents okay?"

I could hear the confusion in his voice. "They're fine. I don't know why, but almost an eighth of all the dogs left are camped out at their house. A fly couldn't get in there, and your Dad refuses to move."

Yep, that sounded like him. For a moment I felt guilty on making the dogs promise to keep them safe at the expense of the city, but there was nothing I could do now.

"Fine, hold tight, Max. I'm coming back."

"No! Tommy, wait." I could hear a scuffle on his end, someone was in the room with him. "I've got a message from Sayer here. It says that you need to follow the map, it's vitally import that you follow the map until things... uh... until you get where you need to go."

Yeah, sure. I could just see Sayer sitting off to Max's side, prodding him along.

"Fine. Max, I've got a message I want to you to relay to Sayer."

"Uh, yeah?" I could hear the nervous tick in his voice.

"Yeah, tell that mummified gut-wrench of a dog that I'll follow his map. I'll follow it where ever it says to go. I've already been shot at, fallen off a mountain, and very nearly had the pelt flayed from my back. And the way things are going English might just finish the job for me." I heard a strangled cough from the other end, it didn't come from Max. "And once I find the buried treasure in Edmonton, I'll come back and ram it under his tail!"

I slammed the radio down, letting it click off. Turning, I began digging through the pile of stuff that lay before me, looking for my journal. I needed to clear my mind, bring my thoughts to order.

I laid with Rebeca that night in our tent. There were no blankets left, so I was her only warmth. That was okay with me, it just gave me another reason to hold her close.

"Are you alright, Wolfy?" Her voice was sweet, but strained as it drifted through the night air.

"Huh? Why do you ask, Babe?"

"No reason, Wolfy, you just seem tense. That, and you're nearly crushing me."

"Oh." I loosened my grip, I hadn't noticed just how tightly I'd been holding her. "It's just that I talked with Sayer today."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Sure, Wolfy. It's not like we could miss it. You were practically screaming by the time you finished. I don't think even English dared to come near you then."

"Oh." I blushed under my fur. "Sorry."

"For what, Tommy? Caring? That old dog may not be the shiniest badge on the force, but he is just trying to keep you alive. Same as the rest of us."

"The rest of us? What, gods, not you too."

She laughed. "Sorry, Wolfy, my interests are purely selfish. I need you alive to snuggle with, no one's bribing or threatening me to be here."

"That's good, Babe. At least one person wants me for who I am, and not because they think I'm some great god made flesh to save them."

She laughed again. "You never know, Tommy. People have taken advantage of less than that to control others."

"I don't want to control people, Babe. I don't want to play mind games or rule the world. I just want to be me, not the savior of anybody."

"To late, Wolfy, you already saved me. Or did you forget?"

The next morning we were back on the road. English was still hacking up purple mucus every now and then, I couldn't help but wonder just how much he had packed behind that gigantic snoz of his. Every time I thought we'd seen the end of it another globule would come shooting from his face like a bullet, propelled by a sneeze that made the birds around us take flight.

We continued north, up the surprisingly straight highway. This was certainly not the mountains anymore, you could see to the horizon and beyond, like the flatland went on forever.

It was a few days of hard walking to find the next sign of civilization. It's safe to say that the three of us were a fair bit warier this time. No one trusted what we might encounter.

The first indication of anything but yet more shattered road ahead of us was a still standing fence on the fields to one side, then later both. Even the road itself slowly began to fall into better repair. It was when I saw the shadow of a building break the horizon that I called a halt to our march.

"Do you see that?" I pointed almost due north, following the road's straight as an arrow track. It was so faint as I couldn't be sure it wasn't a trick of the clouds.

"Yeah, mate." The massive lion shivered for a moment. "Shall we go around? No one's seen us yet."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I can hunt for food, but all of our other supplies are low. We need to try to trade, for whatever it's worth. In any event, I'd rather know what we're up against, rather than leave something unknown sitting between us and the way home."

"Your call, mate." He grinned for a moment, a flash of his old humor finally shining through full force. "But if I bed something, I want it to have a face this time."

Rebeca gave him a shot to the arm as we began walking again. "You know, English, you're just the type of person my parents warned me about."

He laughed at her jab, as we walked on.

If the small painted sign at the side of the road was any indication, this place was called 'Red Deer'. Odd name, I didn't see any venison for sale. In any event, the place made Horseshoe Bay look like a bustling metropolis. No more than a dozen building were clustered about the highway as it cleaved through the center of the settlement.

We got a few guarded looks as we approached, but thankfully no screams of terror. It looked like the entire population of the small community must have been out on the streets this fine spring day. At least fifty pairs of eyes watched us as we slowly trudged into town.

"Oi, outlander!" A voice rose above the others as we neared, an old man with a salt and pepper beard pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "It's not often we get visitors this far north, and even rarer those of your kind."

"Our kind?"

He waved a hand towards English and I. "Tails."

Oh. I'd spent so long at Horseshoe Bay that it hadn't hit me for a moment. Everyone here was human.

"Um, yeah..." I tried to hide my teeth as I spoke, "We've come a long way."

"By the looks of you, I have no doubt." He waved an arm to call us closer. "You're welcome here as long as you do us no harm, and you have a few stories to tell."

All in all, the villagers seemed incredibly nonplussed by our appearance. Not even English's massive bulk looming over them caused the smallest child to cringe.

The old man, he mentioned his name was Matt, lead us into town, to a simple two story building. A sign hung above the front door, its name was the 'Nightshade Inn'.

I looked over at English before we entered, all he did was shrug and mumble in my ear, "I've stayed at stranger places. What we need to worry about now is cash."

The inside of the building was as unassuming as the exterior, simple, dark and cramped. Pine timber beams hung down from the ceiling, making me duck, and English practically double over to fit within. The shadows lay think in here, the only light coming from the scant few windows and a half dozen wick lamps scattered about, hanging from the ceiling.

Matt walked behind the bar and pulled three droughts of beer from a large cask, laying them before us.

I tried to hold up a hand to ward him off, "Wait a second, Matt. I'm not sure we have anything to pay you with."

He laughed, showing a gap toothed grin. "You needn't worry about that just yet, friends. We'll find what you've to trade later, consider these on the house."

English hardly waited a heartbeat before pulling down two-thirds his mug with a single gulp, wiping the bristly white foam from his lips where the fur was beginning to grow back. To my other side, Rebeca took a sniff of her own cup, almost reminding me of myself, before taking a deep sip.

I smelt my own, the scents of fermented barley and pine wood wafted up at me. To be honest, it almost made me gag. Call me unmanly if you will, but I've never had a taste for alcohol - I'd long ago learned just how the stuff was made. It might be crazy, but the idea of drinking bacteria urine to put poison in my bloodstream just never appealed to me. And in any event, my regeneration has the annoying side effect of killing off the buzz in seconds, but not seeming to do nearly as much about the hangover. I took a polite sip, but started looking for an opportunity to swap glasses with the lion.

"So, friends, where is it you're from?" Matt was leaned on the bar, a dirty rag thrown over one shoulder.

Both English and Rebeca seemed to be dozing off after their beers, English had grabbed mine the moment Matt looked away for a second. I hadn't even had to ask him, I guess he must be partial to the stuff.

"Know of V-town?" I decided it was up to me to keep up our end of the conversation.

"Ain't that on the coast? You weren't lying when you said you've come aways." He stole a look down at the empty glass before me, then back up at my face. "I'll get you a refill. So, where are you going? Back home, or to the east?"

"Neither. We're headed north, to Edmonton."

I heard a crash from behind the bar as he dropped his half full glass.

"Bugger it all." He hazard a glance at me while he reached for another glass

I held a hand out, waving him off. "It's alright, I'm not much of a drinker anyway."

He gave me a quick glance. "That's too bad. Uh, you a deep sleeper by any chance?"

"Not really... why?" I wasn't happy about where this conversation was suddenly headed.

"No reason, friend. It's just that the winds howls something fierce up here at night, and it tends to keep folks awake. Come on, I think your friends could use a cup of something to wake them up. They seem to have dozed off on us."

A few moments later everyone was back awake, but I kicked English's foot when he asked about another pint.

"So, fella," He looked over at Matt, "We three could use a room for the night, but the only coin we have is of V-town, and not much of that. Any chance we could strike a bargain?"

Matt shrugged and grinned, wiping down the bar as he spoke. "As I said, friends, it's not often we get travelers this far north, I'm sure we could strike a deal that would let you keep your goods for trade. Have you any talent at weaving a tale? News in these parts is rare, and we could all use a good storyteller to while away the evening."

English beamed, his smile almost seeming to consume his face. "I think I can accommodate you. We're bounty hunters, good friend... extraordinaire! I'm sure I got enough scars to entertain you with a few good yarns. What do you say, Tommy?" He thrust his hands out as he spoke, acting like he was already on stage. I just shook my head and let him have at it.

Matt had us checked into a room in short order, it was above the main chamber, on the second floor. I insisted on a single room for the three of us, much to English's distaste. I'd yet a moment to tell them what had already happened, and I wasn't go to let either of them out of my sight when night fell.

For a moment I wasn't sure if the stairs could take the lion's bulk, they creaked and bent enough that I almost thought their spine would snap under his weight. He practically had to crawl on his belly to make it up through the narrow passageway.

The room was little better. It was small, tidy, and pleasant enough overall, but small is the operative word here. Matt had gotten an extra bed dragged in, but as English laid down on it, it was obvious it wouldn't even hold him to the knees. He shoved it back out the door and spread his bed roll across the floor with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, mate, there goes my dream of sleeping on a feather mattress tonight. I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I hate you, you lucky dog." He eyed the remaining bed enviously.

I cuffed him has I walked past to the window. "That's a wolf, you mangy stray." I pushed open the wooden shutters and was rewarded with a gust of cool, fresh air that blew some of the stuffiness from the room - this place was lousy with dust. The only inn in the town, and I'd just as well bet that no one had stayed here in months.

"So, mate," English looked up at me from where he lay on the floor, "You want to tell me why you kept me from my drink? First good stout we find in over a month, and you go all teetotaler on me."

"In case you didn't notice, the two of you almost fell asleep on me."

"What?" Rebeca was sitting on the bed beside me. "We did?"

"That stuff must be more potent than I thought, if you don't even remember." I put my arm over her as I spoke.

"Don't worry about it, mate. You just don't have a proper appreciation for the swill. We've been dry so long that's what happens."

"After a single glass?" Rebeca didn't sound convinced. The lion just shrugged in response.

"Anyway, it's getting late," I pulled my pack towards me. "We'd best see what we have to trade before the shops close down. And you need to get prepared, English. You've got a show to put on tonight."

"Naut a tuck, mate. I've sung for my supper before. How do you think I got across Africa before I could hunt? I've done it all, dancing, jokes, panto. Heck, I can even sing. I'll happily rip off all the old Beatles songs if it gets me food in my belly."

"Beatles? What, you impersonate bugs?" I screwed up my face, trying to envision that.

He gave a half-hearted swipe at me. "Gods, mate, you tell me that I need to know the classics. Beatles, you know, The Beatles!" I looked at him blankly. "Gods!" He threw his hands up into the air. "The greatest band to come out of England since... well, ever." He winked at me. "Just you watch, mate, I'll have you singing along by the end of the night."

We went through our packs, every pocket and pouch, trying to find things we could get rid of to lighten our load. For the essentials like food there was no problem, but soap, cloth, and matches were all in short supply. We'd run out of chocolate before we'd even finished crossing the mountains, and my addiction was demanding more, the sooner the better.

I didn't really want to split up, but English had to practice his schtich and, to be frank, I wasn't sure how many times he could make it up those stairs without them splintering. That left Rebeca and I to try and barter what we could. It was likely a good thing to have her doing it, as everyone here seemed to be human. I didn't mind a little time alone with her anyway.

The sun was just beginning to crawl towards the horizon as we stepped out of the inn. The streets were still filled with everyone who had been here before, no one seemed to mind that the hour was getting later. We wandered among the dozen or so stalls that made up the only small market in town.

Unsurprisingly for a town its size, there was little to be had above the bare essentials. We were able to find some fresh clothing and blankets for Rebeca, though a little coarser than what she was used to back in V-town, and some dried meat and other sundries for the trip.

It was surprising, however, how freely the towns folk parted with what they had, even just coming out of the winter, they still traded with a smile. A single V-town coin, all but worthless, could get us almost anything we wanted. I was almost willing to try and sell my shedding fur, it seemed they would accept it almost as eagerly. The mere act of us stepping up to a stall caused a huge grin from the hawker. Everyone wanted to speak to us, even just watch us as we passed by. I guess they really didn't get many visitors up here. They reacted as freely to me as Rebeca, my appearance seemingly all but invisible to them, they were just as interested in her as I.

My sweet tooth had to stand disappointment though. The closest to chocolate they had here was honey and unrefined sugar, both of which I bought in abundance.

We made it back to the inn just as the sun began to disappear, not that we had much choice. As if an unheard cry had come up, all the vendors packed away their wars and vanished from sight, trailing away into the buildings as one.

Returning to the inn, the place was packed. We had to push and shove to even make it through the door. The press of humans was so close around me that the smell was just short of overwhelming, matched only by the reek of ale already spilling on the floor.

At the head of the crowd stood English, for a moment I thought he was standing on a table he towered over them so. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized that he was just that much bigger than everyone else. He stood in the center of a ring of lanterns, they surrounded him, reflecting highlights of his tawny coat and making him shine in the dim light. Every so often I could see a glimmer from his golden eyes, like they were lit from within by a fire that I had only rarely seen.

He had yet to even say a word, but the crowd was already silent, hanging on his every breath, every twitch of his ears. When he finally opened his mouth, it sounded like another person speaking.

He'd lost his accent, all of it, completely. In its place was a wholly new voice, a deep and booming baritone that contrasted night and day with the slightly nasal upper crust British namber he normally projected. He sounded like an orator in a Roman amphitheater, like a narrator from the finest play houses of V-town. He didn't yell, but yet his voice washed over us all, reaching even the furthest corner of the room as surly as the front row that craned their necks at him.

"Friends, villagers, countrymen, lend me your ears." He paused and laughed to himself for a moment. A couple of us joined him, the rest, Rebeca included, just stared blankly. A moment later he broke into a tale - or is it tail? - of tracking down a man in V-town. It was a story from long before I'd met him. So, thankfully, I wasn't in it. He jumped from character to character, a unique voice and expression for each, he even pantomimed out the actions in what little space he had before the crowd. When it came to the final chase he pulled a member from the audience, throwing him about the stage with a gasp that make me thankful the man walked away without any broken bones.

He paused for a moment at the end of the story, basking in the cheer of an appreciative audience. They banged their cups on the tables and called for more. The lion only smiled. He raised his arms for silence, they quickly obliged.

"My next story, good friends, is, as always, true. The crowning, and so far ultimate, achievement in my repertoire is not mine alone to tell." He thrust a clawed finger out towards Rebeca and I, hiding in the far corner of the room. "Come, help my mate tell us of his life!"

A moment later the crowd was pushing me forward, despite my best protests. Rebeca had managed to disappear among the shadows, lucky devil. They deposited me on the stage, next to English, where he pulled me to my feet and threw his arm about me. "My friends, let me tell you a tale of murder most fowl, of deceit and cold blooded calculation. And," He winked at me, "A romance you would hardly expect!"

A moment later he broke into a rather... imaginative retelling of the story of the humans of V-town. Call me crazy, but he took more than a few liberties, stressing my own part in the matter, Rebeca, and leaving himself almost completely from the proceedings.

It was amazing the way he imitated the voices of almost everyone we'd met, from Tin's dry drawl to Huston's murderous growl, even the hiss of Vanderhoom was enough to make me wonder if the man was back alive. By the time he'd finished the whole crowd was on the edge of their seats. The final battle with Vanderhoom sent them cheering. I just covered my eyes and cowered. Not only had English changed the sickly bureaucratic lizard into some form of herculean demi-god, but he'd also moved our, in reality short and pitiful, battle to the center square of the city - surrounding us with spectators calling for blood.

The lion poked me in the ribs after he'd finished, leaving the crowd clamoring for more. "So, mate, how did I do? Just remember, it's the victors that write the history books, eh?" I took that moment to slide away, back into the audience. Folks gave me a touch more of a breadth now, and the occasional pat on the back.

I'd just found Rebeca again, hidden away in the darkest corner she could find, and sat down next to her as English started up again in the background.

"So, Wolfy, is that the way you remember it?" She didn't turn to look at me as she spoke.

"Not quite, Babe. English may have a flair for the dramatic, but I'd keep him away from the history books if I were you. I have a feeling he'd rewrite the world to make sure the good guys always won." She snorted a moment, then pushed closer to me as I lay an arm over her.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, English broke into a singing voice that I could equally call wonderful and horrible; using his impressive set of lungs, he was able to belt out the verses of songs I could only just recall with enough force to shake dust from the rafters above us. The crowd got drunker as the night wore on, more and more of them joining in. By the end, I could only just make out his overtone cresting the throng of off-key chorus singers.

Much to my surprise, no one left the inn as the party wound down, people simply slept where they fell. We had to careful as we worked out way towards Matt to be sure we didn't step on anyone.

"A good night, friends." He was beaming. "I haven't had a take like that in years. You've more than made your rent for the night." He pushed a trio of steaming plates towards us as he spoke, "For some hungry performers," And walked off to check the locks on the doors.

We took the food to our room. I, for one, was glad to get away from the press of people. I'd gotten so used to the solitary life of the road that it felt a little overwhelming.

The plates of food weren't much, at least not for folks like English and I, a few scraps of meat and some boiled root vegetables of some sort or another. Not much as it may be, but it was still a huge improvement over road food, and anything tastes better when you haven't had to be the one to run it down. It wasn't until after I'd finished that I noticed it had an odd aftertaste, something like bitter rosehip. It left my tongue feeling numb, a moment later the sensation spread to my lips. I had just the sense to look over at English, sprawled on his mat, Rebeca slumped against me a moment later. Another half dozen breaths and the tingle reached behind my eyes, then I felt nothing at all.