FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Maybe Tomorrow

-

Princess Kimmi and the

Temple of Bloom

by Dissident Love

copyright 2015

... er, 2016

... it's 2017 now?

To see story updates earlier,

Character interviews, special scenes,

And even more awesomeness, please check out

www.patreon.com/dissidentlove

Hir Grace The Royal Crown Princess Kimmi sighed.

Shi wandered back and forth, idly flipping hir paws and digging up little tufts of grass with hir toes. Long, somewhat wilted garlands of moonbuds were woven through hir raven black tresses, and a few of the falling petals had found their way into hir cleavage. Shi didn't know how shi was going to get out of hir dress if shi ended up returning to hir cottage alone... it had taken Shingen and a burly young porter almost twenty minutes to get hir into it!

"Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean," shi whispered to hirself, fiddling with hir fingers and trying not to fret, which would seem to be at cross purposes. The clearing was spacious, well removed from the little hardpack road that slipped out of the nearby town and into the hills, but shi still managed a complete circuit of it in a single minute. Hir spacious gait covered a lot of ground. "She'll be here. Calm blue ocean."

It had been a more relaxing week than most, recently. So much of the spring had been caught up in dealing with the remnants of the Law, those accursed golden coronets, that before long Kimmi and Shingen didn't even have to discuss their plans when padding into a new region. They merely needed to look for the signs, the endless white and red painted signs indicating what had recently become forbidden, and follow them. More often than not the monstrous possessed agents of justice were rounded up and liberated before nightfall, and the travelling pair could enjoy a nice meal, a cool drink and a fluffy bed in peace (and usually free of charge).

ANYTHING?!

_ _

Nothing, Starlight.

_ _

STOP CALLING ME THAT!

_ _

It is your name. And you could stop yelling.

_ _

I'M NOT YELLING.

_ _

Beg pardon. You could stop think-shouting.

_ _

OH SURE. LIKE I KNOW HOW THIS WORKS.

_ _

The bond between Kimmi and Shingen had grown stronger during their travels, and now shi was able to communicate with him purely by thought. However, it only worked when they were fairly close to one another, and shi had to have a rough idea where he already was. Also, it seemed shi had only one volume, so to speak, and Shingen was complaining of tooth pain after long conversations. Right now she knew that Shingen was in the trees to the south, keeping an eye out for Isima.

SHE PROMISED!

_ _

I'm sure she will arrive, Starlight. She was most... intrigued by you.

_ _

EVERYONE STARES LIKE THAT.

_ _

Not everyone...

_ _

This last thought was accompanied by, not exactly an image, but an impression of an image, a snippet of a half-remembered dream. It was strange seeing Isima from such a low angle, Shingen being barely up to Kimmi's belly button, but the keen-eyed little rat apparently had the distinct impression that the plumply-proportioned serving girl's paws had been smoothing her skirts down far, far more than was strictly necessary while in the taur's presence.

OH MY GODS SHE REALLY TOUCHED HERSELF... THERE?

_ _

She was not subtle about it.

_ _

Kimmi tried to say something self-effacing and evasive, but the wave of smug pride forced that aside and gave Shingen a very unaccustomed sensation of confident arousal. He frowned and adjusted his own robes awkwardly, wishing not for the first time that his body did not respond so acutely to his bonded mount's proclivities. And it wasn't just hir more salacious interests... while in Kimmi's presence he found himself longing far more for baths and cakes than he could ever recall experiencing.

ANYTHING??!

_ _

Yes. She approaches.

_ _

REALLY?!?!?

_ _

No. Please stop asking. I will tell you.

_ _

AUGH!!!

_ _

Frustration washed over Shingen like a tumbling avalanche, and he had to resist the urge to punch the tree. Their connection would only grow stronger, and he was vaguely aware that there would be far more they could do together, but the scrolls were, as always, cryptic and vague.

Tomorrow, we resume our travels?

_ _

YES!!! STOP ASKING!!!

_ _

Just making sure.

_ _

A PRINCESS ALWAYS KEEPS HIR PROMISES!!!

_ _

What about the mead?

_ _

OH, ONE TIME!!!

_ _

Kimmi's head throbbed as shi shared the memory of their brief stay in Willow Crescent, a lovely and idyllic town to the east the month before. Kimmi had been seen as an oddity, to be sure, but there had been very little hostility. In fact shi was taken in somewhat as a celebrity, word of hir exploits with the Law having travelled farther than shi'd ever expected. On their second night a party had been thrown in hir honor (though from the way folks acted, it seemed as though they took even the slightest provocation as a brilliant excuse to throw a party), and shi had discovered that a wondrous liquor could be brewed from lavender, thistles and honey. After hir third tankard (such a lovely word, tankard...) and hir second bawdy off-key song shi had been forced by Shingen to promise, to swear upon hir royal birth, that shi would only consume water for the remainder of the night.

Leaving Willow Crescent had been a slow, sombre, and above all _quiet_affair.

I am somewhat amused that I can cause you to relive your hangover. I feel it is almost fair recompense for having had to share it with you.

_ _

SHUT UP!!!

_ _

Tut tut, Starlight. That is unseemly behaviour for a...

_ _

NO SERIOUSLY SHUT UP I HEAR SOMETHING IN THE BUSHES SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT oh my lovely goddesses...

_ _

Shingen blinked, Kimmi's psychic voice actually descending somewhere into the realm of a pleasant conversational whisper. His body tensed and he gauged the distance to the next tree, prepared to leap to his companion's rescue. His grip slowly eased off of the pommel of his sword when the frustration and stress melted out of his bones and were replaced by a warm, tingly and above all buoyant sensation of desire. In his mind's eye he caught a glimpse of a tall, sturdily-built doe stepping out of the dew-drenched ferns around the edge of the clearing, and he was not at all surprised to discover that Kimmi's focus seemed to be on her extremely ample, swaying hips and the plunging neckline that exposed a truly inappropriate amount of hefty, jiggling-

The little rat shook his head vigorously and decided a tactical retreat was in order. Outside of a mile, he would be unable to pick up the more graphic of Kimmi's thoughts, and he definitely didn't want to delve too deeply into the mind of a young, sheltered huskygrrl enjoying a midnight tryst.

Well, maybe I could... no. No. Definitely not. Definitely. That would be... no. I should leave.

_ _

. . . . .

Kimmi stood dumbstruck, toes digging reflexively at the soft earth, when Isima stepped out of the ferns. She was tall, broad-shouldered and plump for a cervid, though the young princess had to admit hir contact with most species was quite limited. At the Wooden Rooster the barmaid had been dressed in a sturdy brown dress with a tight but gap-laced bodice, all smiles and upswept bosom and well-scrubbed wool, but now...

Growing up, Kimmi had possessed many nightgowns, and hir housemaidens had often worn theirs when spending the night. Some of those nightgowns had been exciting affairs that hugged curves, hiding some skin and fur while revealing others, and seemed quite impractical for keeping one warm at night. 'Lingerie', they had been called, and shi had always planned to get some of hir own, but as of yet shi'd never quite found the courage to ask any of the clothiers they'd come across. But there was no mistaking what Isima now wore, if she could be said to be wearing anything at all.

"Yip," Kimmi whimpered, waggling hir fingers.

Isima's eyes widened, hands wringing together below her extremely capacious bust as she took in the sight of Kimmi in full moonlight. While the taur thought that hir dress was a rather plain affair, double-pleated white cotton that had to be specially reinforced to handle hir sheer bulk, Isima's heart started to pound and she felt rather unexpectedly under-developed.

"Hello," she called back softly.

And for nearly a full minute that was how they remained, standing anxiously on opposite sides of the clearing, eyes roaming hungrily, tongues leaden and still.

Oh, for heaven's sake, go to her!

_ _

Kimmi jerked, pawing madly at one ear but realizing it was Shingen's voice in hir head. ARE YOU SPYING ON US?!?

_ _

Not even slightly, but I know that you sometimes have some difficulty, shall we say, taking the first step.

_ _

LOOK AT HER! SHE'S SO GORGEOUS! WHAT AM I EVEN DOING HERE?! WHY WON'T SHE COME ANY CLOSER?!

_ _

Because, gentle Starlight, she is no doubt experiencing much the same doubt and panic as you are.

_ _

BULLSH-

_ _

Language. Go to her.

_ _

BUT-

_ _

Go to her or I will talk through your lips. You know I can do that.

_ _

YOU WOULDN'T!?!

_ _

Go to her and you won't have to find out. I am leaving now.

_ _

YOU'D BETTER!

_ _

Shingen's words were fading, though, and shi did trust the disgustingly honorable little rat to keep his word. He was well and truly incapable of lying, and not just to Kimmi. If he said he was leaving now, well, shi knew he would be gone by the time shi... shi... oh gods... I have to, don't I?

Kimmi started to walk, enormous paws trembling. Shi had spent the last few days enjoying the sights around the idyllic little hamlet, from the impressive granite cliffs to the cherry blossom groves to the bright and peppy local orchestra, where the average member's age was somewhere in the triple digits. When not enjoying being a tourist without the constant imminent threat of violence (for a change), shi spent perhaps more time than strictly necessary at the Rooster, dining there for breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as whenever shi felt a mite peckish or needed a midnight snack. Isima hadn't always been on duty at first, but rumors travelled fast and by the third day the doe had been present for virtually every meal.

They had batted eyelashes at one another. They had mumbled polite red-cheeked smalltalk back and forth, more often than not staring into their respective cleavage. They had rather poorly told off-color jokes, shared brief childhood stories, and bonded extensively over fatty sweetened dessert dishes. All the while Shingen sat opposite his friend and ally, painfully aware of the steaming attraction between them, and even more aware that everyone else in the inn could see it, too.

In the end, he'd been forced to actually play matchmaker just to get them together outside of mealtimes. A few gold coins, some skilled forgery and some well-placed scented envelopes, and their midnight tryst had been sealed. Of course, as soon as he'd done it Kimmi had become dimly aware through their shared bond, but despite hir verbal protests shi fairly radiated psychic gratitude.

"You look splendid," shi giggled when shi finally drew close enough to touch the curvaceous doe. Shi didn't dare touch, not yet, but it was nice to know that shi could. If shi wanted to.

"My Princess," Isima bowed, somehow managing to not completely tumble out of her bodice. "You look... magical."

Kimmi waved hir paws evasively, smoothing down hir dress. "Oh, you hush. This isn't that different to what I've been wearing the last few days."

"I beg your pardon, Princess, but-"

"I'm not really a Princess, you know, not anymore."

"But your friend-"

"The rat has a big mouth. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean."

"But you WERE a Princess!"

"I... uhm... well, yes, but-"

"Then I shall refer to you as such," Isima smiled, reaching out to still Kimmi's anxiously flapping paws. "It would be rude otherwise. You don't just stop being royalty."

"You seem awfully... knowledgeable about this sort of thing," Kimmi whispered, tail standing straight up just at the simple touch of fingers against hir palm. "But just don't overdo it, please? For me? Especially in town, where... people... normal people, like you, and... I mean, I'm already different enough..."

Isima leaned to the side, taking in the considerable length and girth of the towering taur. "How do you mean, Highness?" She asked innocently, batting her eyelashes. "You seem perfectly normal to me."

Hir former Royal Highness snorted. "Yes, because there's so many four-legged piss-poor well-read travellers round these parts, no?"

Isima blushed, but the meaning was clear. Taurs were, for lack of a better term, beasts. They pulled wagons, they pumped water, they ploughed fields and they carried scouts and cavalry far and wide. They did not wear clothes as a general rule, they did not speak in the manner reserved for two-legged folk, and they had no society to speak of. They were not, as was commonly understood,people.

_ _

"Perhaps not so well-read," the doe agreed, at length. "I hope you don't think ill of me for taking such an interest in you, your high... er... Miss Kimmi."

"You have to admit, it is perhaps a little strange! I know I attract attention like a... like a..."

"Like a talking taur, Miss?"

Kimmi's eyes narrowed, but shi couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, quite. People follow me around, little ones pull on my tail and try to sneak under my skirts, teamsters try to feed me out of their paws and rub my flanks, but as soon as I dare enter an inn or an eatery or a clothier, everyone loses their minds!"

"I know, Miss, and we are very sorry about that. But I had heard tales of your travels-"

Kimmi's smile deepened. During the brief scuffle in the lobby, Isima had swiftly and very loudly leapt to the taur's defense. "I never did thank you properly for that."

"Your Highness, you owe me no thanks."

Shocked at hir own forwardness, Kimmi slid hir fingers slowly up Isima's forearm, past hir elbow and shoulder, to rest them as gently as shi could manage against the doe's neck. "Are you sure?" shi murmured, truly locking eyes with the buxom barmaid for the first time that night.

Isima's breath came faster now, her skimpy outfit dancing and fluttering as it struggled to keep up a semblance of modesty. "I just hope," she breathed, scarcely more than a whisper, "you don't think me odd or... deviant... for my interests."

There it is, Kimmi noted sadly to hirself. And that was the real problem, wasn't it? Kimmi's emotional and physical drives were, by all accounts, extremely healthy. Shingen was all too aware of the young taur's almost instantaneous attraction to most anyone who smiled at hir, regardless of species or gender or age, but any complementary sensations were buried by strict and subtle social morality. It was all well and good to talk to a taur, even with the novelty of that taur talking back in rich, eloquent tongues, but attraction? Lust? Romance?

With an animal?

_ _

"Odd, perhaps," Kimmi smiled, sliding one delicately-polished claw up along Isima's ear, "but I don't feel it right for me to make value judgements. I am hardly... normal."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Don't think I don't appreciate that."

"Not many travellers tall as you, that I've seen."

"Yes, I am quite tall."

"First thing I noticed, really."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm not surprised."

The pair had been inching closer with every casual snippet of smalltalk until the underside of Kimmi's breasts were just brushing the upper slopes of Isima's. The doe's nose was almost touching the tightly-laced front of the taur's bodice, those simple cords creaking and fraying under their colossal load. She reached out, stroking Kimmi's hip gently and chewing her lip anxiously.

"I-"

Kimmi could move with tremendous speed when shi wanted to, and shi scooped up the plump woman as though she weighed no more than a ragdoll. Isima's arms flapped crazily, but the feel of the husky's firm, powerful arms around her body calmed and reassured her... until she realized that her entire torso was being squeezed against Kimmi's immense breasts, and now her own comparatively dainty pair were resting on top.

"Sorry," Kimmi breathed, eyes wild. "I should have asked!"

Isima's feet kicked girlishly several feet above the ground and she giggled. "No, I think this was much better," she crooned, throwing her arms around Kimmi's neck, acutely aware that her elbows were still being propped up by the taur's improbably perky swells. She eyed the vast expanse of silvery fur on display, Kimmi's bust so full that the doe doubted she'd be able to properly hug her arms around just ONE of them, and felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Oh, gods..."

Kimmi danced formlessly, back and forth, side to side, swinging hir captive date easily. "Feel free to blink when you've gotten an eyeful," shi tittered bashfully, fully aware that hir figure was distinctly non-standard, and below the folds of hir dress shi could feel things filling out bigger, fuller, _heavier_by the second.

"Never," Isima insisted, leaning forwards to stroke her muzzle along the seemingly bottomless cleavage. "You know, I've had dreams about grrls like you my whole life. My mother thought I was crazy."

"She might not have been wrong."

"You are terrible!" the doe laughed. "And you must know how gorgeous you are. It's a crime against the world if you don't."

"Parts of me might be... classically attractive," Kimmi frowned, remembering many of the illustrations from some of Shingen's books and scrolls, and some of the older portraits and paintings from hir childhood in the Royal Castle. "But there's scale, and proportion, and... some other considerations to keep in mind," shi chuckled, twisting hir barrel around and shaking hir rump meaningfully.

"Bah, details."

"Details? I rather think-"

Kimmi was strong, and shi knew it. Shi'd flattened a gate made of solid stone, shi'd disarmed an apparently indestructible insectoid bodyguard, and shi'd nearly crushed Shingen with a tree that shi'd quite literally uprooted. Shi didn't know the full extents of hir strength and had studiously avoided finding out too much for fear shi would become too reliant on hir body at the expense of hir mind, but nevertheless shi knew shi possessed more raw physical power than anyone shi'd yet come across in hir travels.

And in spite of that Isima had no troubles gripping the taur's jowls and dragging hir into a passionate kiss that left hir dizzy and breathless.

Shi panted, eyes closed, paws very carefully gripping the small of the doe's back and keeping her pinned to hir bust. Shi licked hir lips, Isima's tastes lingering on hir tongue like half-remembered wine. Hir heart pounded, hir tail tingled, and shi could feel hir undergarments pulling awkwardly tight against hir hips, weight piling up against hir hindlegs.

"Wow," shi eventually whimpered, nosing forwards until shi bumped up against Isima. "That... that was... nice."

"Just nice?" Isima pouted, her own bosom rising and falling rapidly. "I must be losing my touch! You can open your eyes, Your Highness, I'm still here."

"I will, I will, I just... need a minute."

The doe's paws moved easily across Kimmi's breasts, travelling down the outer slopes and tugging at the wide neckline, her pinky fingers drawing perilously close to where hir nipples were perking up like teacups, tenting the white fabric. "Then I will take that as a compliment," she mused with a sly grin, eyes widening when she saw those signs of the husky's arousal. "I hope I can help you forget, however briefly, about your previous lovers."

"Aren't any," Kimmi mumbled, hir hind legs splaying out a fraction wider as shi continued to swell. No, stop, this is going too fast! I was just prepared for maybe some kissing! Shingen, can you hear me?

_ _

"Any what... lovers?" Isima blinked, swinging legs stopping dead. "What?"

Kimmi blushed and bowed hir head further, nose nuzzling the warm little shelter between Isima's breasts and hir own. "That was my first kiss. My first real kiss."

"... what." This was not a question.

"The housemaidens who raised me told me all about it, told me about kissing, and some of them showed me how it looked when THEY did it, but they wouldn't... wouldn't kiss me. It would have been improper and unseemly to kiss the Princess, but apparently the rules were a little fuzzy on instructional displays," shi snickered, opening hir eyes a crack and being greeted by the tawny velvet of Isima's neckline. "I've never been... close enough to anyone else to try, in any sense of the word."

"What."

_ _

"OK, you're making me feel like a freak again."

Isima's jaw worked several times before she regained her voice. "But you're so... you're... I mean, I know you were in your castle for most of your life, but I thought... I mean, even being out in the world for only a few months, you... I thought... really?"

_ _

Kimmi angled hir body, gently lowering the doe to the ground. "I should have kept my mouth shut," shi sighed. "I apologize, I did not mean to ruinmmmppphhh!"

Their first kiss had been long and slow, almost thoughtful, giving Kimmi all the time in the world to examine the minute details. This kiss was brutal, frenzied, Isima's tongue forcing its way between hir teeth as she angled her head to the side. Their paws seemed to be everywhere, fingers digging into fur as they fought to pull themselves closer still until it was hard for either of them to draw breath or even stand upright. Finally growing sick of the problems their height differences were providing shi simply dropped onto hir belly, or as much of hir belly as shi could manage with the ever-expanding mass between hir hind legs

"I can't believe I get to be your first," the doe gasped, throwing her head back and shaking her hair loose. "I never imagined!"

"I've imagined a lot," Kimmi replied, vision swimming as hir eyes tried and failed to focus. "You could say that's where I've got a lot of surplus experience."

Isima's eyes softened, her brows coming together in concern. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh... and I shouldn't be talking about myself at a time like this! Goodness, I must seem like a wanton hussy, throwing myself at you."

The hefty husky bounced Isima once before lowering her to the ground. "I don't think you did all of the throwing," shi chuckled, allowing hir paws to roam a little more freely now that the doe was supporting her own weight. "I just don't want to scare you off. I'm not... well, like other grrls."

"Oh, gods, I know..."

"You're terrible," Kimmi blushed, fanning hirself. "But you know what I mean."

Isima leaned forwards, pressing herself wholly against Kimmi's overabundant bosom and resting her cheek against one tremendous swell. "I know that I've prayed for my dreams to come true, and then you walked into my town," she murmured dreamily.

Kimmi wriggled, hir tail hoisting up higher and higher into the night air as hir male attributes began to really come alive. "Er, yes, you've mentioned those dreams, but the thing about dreams is-"

"Pretty lights."

"Yes, there's those, I suppose. I don't have much in the way of pretty lights in my dreams," shi said wearily. Shi was more used to dreams of endless darkness. "But I mean dreams have... I mean, just because something is impossible in real doesn't mean in a dream it's... look, you're a big girl and all, but-"

"I feel like I'm being filled up with light!"

"That's kind of you to say, but you're not going to feel like that if-" Kimmi blinked and paused, finally turning hir attentions outwards. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Isima raised a paw, tiny motes of brilliance dancing from finger to finger, all colors of the rainbow. More flowed out of the confines of her dress, and in the darkness Kimmi could have sworn that light was coming from the doe's mouth, and even from her eyes. "Are you seeing this?" she mumbled thickly, her tongue bouncing.

"I am, but... why...?" Kimmi brought a huge silvery paw up close to hir face, only now noticing the shimmering waves of radiance that flowed along hir fur like water over steely reeds. Shi felt warm, and buoyant, and... content. Shi felt accepted, and more than anything shi felt loved, the dizzying, all-encompassing love shi'd scarcely dreamed possible..

"I don't know."

"I like it."

"Me too."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love everything."

"You are everything!"

The clearing filled with light, radiance streaming from every blade of grass, until even the fury of a searing summer's midday paled in comparison, wind swirling about the pair and coating them in a veil of petals.

. . . . . .

Shingen trotted through Milford, spirits high. His night had been pleasant, quiet and reflective. Without the Princess occupying a tremendous amount of the cottage's volume (which was hardly hir fault, it just so happened that even a cabin built for four travellers complete with luggage was still too small for hir), he was able to brew his tea in peace without complaints as to the smell, spread out his scrolls without fear of having them stepped on, and study them at his leisure without the constant verbal and psychic interruptions.

The little rat sighed, feeling instantly regretful for the pawful of unpleasant, impolite thoughts. The Princess was young, shi was curious, shi was easily excited, and shi couldn't very well help the fact that shi was built on the scale usually reserved for heavy machinery. Furthermore, it truly was his fault alone that they were bonded, having assumed that shi was no more than a beast, albeit a uniquely powerful one.

Shi is not the only one to suffer from youthful exuberance, he chastised himself. I was just so eager to progress through the chot-mei.

_ _

His boxy pack bounced as he walked, slung over one shoulder and filled to the brim with the ancient scrolls of his order. The chot-mei­ occupied his every waking moment, to the point where he felt undisciplined and unworthy anytime he so much as allowed himself to sleep more than four hours a night. He was making progress, it was true, and to the best of his recollection he was advancing faster than anyone in his order, except perhaps the Low Master himself, but he wanted more. He needed more.

His stomach grumbled and he winced. I need food, he thought sourly, forcing his guts to be silent. A true Master was not swayed by the whims of the flesh, but instead commanded the physical Universe with naught but pure thought. You are not hungry. You are sated. You are strong. You draw nourishment from the aethers around you.

_ _

A hunched old bunny trundled by, pushing a modified baby carriage loaded with fresh, steaming sticky buns, and a trickle of drool escaped his muzzle.

YOU ARE NOT HUNGRY. YOU ARE SATED. YOU ARE STRONG...

_ _

The inn was busy that morning, as it had been every morning since Kimmi's arrival. Half a dozen locals greeted him heartily, knowing the humble rat by reputation as the Princess's companion. Word had spread that he was a great warrior, spread most notably by Kimmi hirself who enjoyed regaling the crowds with tales of his prowess with the blade. Not a meal went by that he was not asked to draw his sword and show the blade that had cleft metal and stone without so much as a scratch, which meant that every meal he was required to yet again deliver the speech that he was forbidden to draw his blade were his life, or the life of innocents, not in danger.

These protests, it seemed, only added more lustre to his reputation. Every time he refused to perform some feat of strength, every time he bowed out of breaking a wooden plank with his forehead, every single time he declined to demonstrate some ridiculous maneuver Kimmi had so grandiosely described, the crowd's eyes would widen and his fans seemed to grow more adoring. It was... perplexing.

"Good morning," he replied softly, bowing his head respectfully and moving swiftly through the inn. He could hear people whispering as he passed, his name breathed reverently even as it was immediately chased by Kimmi's. He was popular, there was no doubt, but the Princess was a culture-bending force of nature. Shi claimed to loathe the attention, but shi could as easily hide hir bust as shi could hide hir true feelings from him. "Good morning. Thank you. Good morning."

He passed into the main dining room, already crowded full except for a conspicuously empty table at the very centre of the huge low space. He sat at a small, hard wooden seat (his request; the innkeeper had been most perplexed when Shingen asked that the overstuffed armchair be replaced with something a little more functional) and barely had to lift a finger before a small pot of boiling water was placed at his side. He reached into his pack and pulled out his little earthenware cup and saucer and the three small pouches of his tea. The ritual calmed and soothed him, and the crowd noise seemed to fade as he carefully measured and crumbled and mixed and steeped the beverage, stirring it with an ancient wooden rod normally stuck through his hair.

An ear twitched, and he realized the crowd really had grown silent. He turned his head and met two dozen pairs of eyes simultaneously attempting anxious expectation and casual bafflement.

"Yes?"

"Good morning!" chirped one of the inn's serving maids, a familiarly buxom squirrel named... well, he wasn't sure, but it had something to do with tea. What was it again? "Will the Princess be joining us?"

Ah, he thought. "Ah," he said, not bothering to hide his reaction. "Kimmi may be a little late this morning. I apologize, you may not see hir until... lunch... time..."

Without the slightest trace of malice, simply humble resignation, the dining hall began to clear out. By the time Shingen's tea had cooled to the point where he preferred to enjoy it half of the tables were empty and the larger platters of pastries were being removed from the buffet. It made sense; there was far more food there for anyone save Kimmi to consume at a single sitting.

"I did not mean to ruin your trade," he apologized softly when the squirrel returned. Herbs? Steam? I know it was something to do with tea... blast! "I should have said something less definitive."

The squirrel laughed, powerfully corseted bosom bouncing gaily. Countless towns in the last few months, and if there were two things Shingen could expect in each, they were an inn stocked with crispy fried meats served by young ladies with a blatant excess of cleavage. "Oh, they hardly buy much anyways, just enough coffee to get through the morning and maybe a muffin or two. They'll be back, don't you worry. Can I get you anything this morning? Have you decided to try our acorn pie yet?"

His stomach grumbled and he silenced it with the merest flicker of a clenched jaw. "I am fine for now, thank you," he bowed his head. "I had just hoped to wait for Kimmi to arrive, and if I could reiterate my previous protests, please do not address hir as Princess. It is a... sensitive issue."

"I know, I know, we try not to, but when shi's not here it just... slips out. A PRINCESS! That looks like THAT! Honestly, the most interesting thing we get around here other than ghost hunters is the Spring Faire, and that's only interesting because we get to see which young folk can't handle their liquor." The squirrel was exceedingly upbeat and good natured, no doubt a valuable skill in this profession, but he felt that she was perhaps aiming her wide-necked blouse at him a little too persistently. "Please don't tell hir. We don't mean nothing bad by it."

"My lips are sealed," he replied with a careful smile, which was the limit of his ability to prevaricate. "Shi would never protest too hard, but as I say, it is a painful subject. One that it is not my position on which to comment."

The squirrel grinned and swished her hips, skirts twirling. "Your lips must have a lot to deal with," she winked.

"Ah. Yes..." He turned his muzzle back to his tea, hoping the wisps of steam would hide the blush he fought to suppress. "Quite."

She giggled again, bending slightly and nearly spilling out of her top. "I'm just funning with you, little mousie," she squeaked into his ear.

"Rat, actually..."

"Besides, I'm sure we'll hear more than enough whenever Isima manages to drag herself home. We'll have to give her ample time to recover, of course... but don't worry none about that. Us maidens of the barstool are a revered and ancient society. We know_how to keep secrets like _that."

Shingen's mind was briefly filled with the panoply of half-remembered fantasies he'd quite inadvertently inherited from Kimmi, many of them featuring the doe quite prominently. A few of them seemed a little... well, he hesitated to use the word 'impossible', but it was certainly a difficult thing to wrap his brain around.

"Ah. Yes..." he said again, hoping that would end the discussion.

It did not.

The sun was well higher into the morning sky when he managed to escape the overly gregarious inn-maiden. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable around strangers, particularly pretty strangers, he merely felt as though there was little he could add to most conversations. Point in case, his 'conversation' with the squirrel largely consisted of absorbing various winks, nudges and innuendoes and nodding the occasional noncommittal affirmative. He was fairly certain from her constant presence he could accurately sketch her figure from memory-

Stop that. You are disciplined. You are placid. You are always aware, always ready, always vigilant.

_ _

He continued to remind himself of his goals as he circled the town, moving from street level to rooftop to the taller trees as his spiral increased in radius. On the outskirts, Isima's clean and modest little home was empty, and there was no sign anyone had returned overnight.

A blush rose in his cheeks and he smiled. "Congratulations, Your Highness," he murmured to himself, moving swiftly back to their shared cottage in the hopes of catching up with them. "You certainly deserved a night such as this."

. . . . . .

Hir Royal Grace, The Princess Kimmi awoke in darkness and chains.

Shi shook hir wrist once, feeling the familiar bite of steel and the rattle of rusting metal against crumbling stone. Inky blackness surrounded hir, the sort palpable pressure that shi knew only truly existed underground. Shi had experienced this more times than shi cared to remember, and given hir young life they were all too fresh in hir mind. The huge husky sagged against hir restraints and sighed.

"Not again," shi muttered, wondering how many times shi was going to have to go through this same routine.

Shi tested hir legs methodically, one at a time, and was pleased to discover only one ankle was clamped. Shi was much more irritated to realize that hir dress was in tatters, all of that wonderful stitching and support wasted. Shi yanked harder, twisting hir arms around so shi could grip the chains with hir paws rather than rely on hir wrists to take up all the weight, and figured shi had a good ten feet of slack. Shi could turn a full circle once before tangling hirself up, but shi couldn't reach any other walls besides the one that anchored hir. Shi could tell from the echoes that the chamber was quite large, with a high ceiling. At least it wasn't another cell, shi thought sourly. Not sure I could handle that again.

_ _

"Isima?" shi whispered, hir resigned annoyance suddenly replaced with fear. "Isima, are you there?"

Silence, save for some faint distant dripping and thumping. Kimmi sagged again, genuinely remorseful this time, and sniffled once. I knew this was going to happen, shi whimpered to hirself. What happens to anyone who spends any time with me? Something terrible. Every time. One kiss and now... and now...

_ _

Shi felt a twinge in hir shoulders as shi ripped hirself free from the wall, shards of stone and clouds of dust falling all around hir, but shi ignored it all. The shackles were strong, but whatever anchors had been pounded into the ancient solid rock were not up to the task of restraining the mighty taur, especially when the thought of any ills befalling Isima tinged the stygian chamber blood red to hir eyes.

Shi inhaled mightily, dress ripping up the sides, and bellowed. "YOU'VE GOT TEN SECONDS TO LET ME OUT BEFORE I START SMASHING!!!"

Hir voice, almost unrecognizably furious, bounced back and forth around hir endlessly. Shi counted to sixty before the silence fully returned, marred only by hir deep, terrified breaths.

"Well," shi grinned mirthlessly, "you can't say I didn't warn you."

Moving gingerly, shi felt hir way along the wall, planning to map out the room blindly and hopefully discover the path to freedom, or at least a door made of something less durable than solid rock. If no such path existed, shi was fairly certain shi could make one without too much trouble. Shingen's not going to have to rescue me this time, shi vowed. Not this time!

_ _

. . . . . .

snikt

_ _

A sliver of poplar drifted down to the ground, joining a hundred similar chips. The cottage that served as their current temporary lodgings felt... empty, without the Princess constantly simultaneously underfoot and overhead. He had tried to enjoy a pleasant nap, but constant distractions by drafts and unsettling creaking noises prevent his mind from calming.

snikt

_ _

The front porch had proven no better. Enjoying the midafternoon shade in the handmade rocking chairs was a wonderful luxury, built for folks much larger and sturdier than himself, and he'd initially quite enjoyed being able to sprawl his arms and legs and be gently lulled to sleep by the almost maternal cradling. Without Kimmi's every movement causing the cottage's floor beams to groan and flex, though, the rocking chair remained stubbornly immobile.

snikt

_ _

As the hours passed, Shingen found himself becoming unaccustomedly restless. The chot-mei normally offered him solace and guidance, but today it was difficult to parse the obscure, ever-shifting runes. His pack sat open on the rocking chair, three scrolls haphazardly stacked around them, where just anyone could see the unfathomably priceless relics, but his acute senses detected no-one even vaguely close.

snikt

_ _

The slender trunk of the poplar tree was now depicting an intricately carved battle scene, three viciously-clawed insectoid monstrosities facing off against what appeared to be a canine taur wearing a full Imperial regalia. Although Kimmi had done hir best to describe the traumatic circumstances immediately predating their first encounter, there were aspects of it that shi seemed quite happy never to mention to another soul, and those memories were particularly difficult for him to access via their shared bond. Not that he'd tried very hard, of course; above all he knew he had to respect the sanctity of one's mind. He hoped shi would appreciate the rendition in fine local woodcraft, wiping a few errant flecks of sawdust from the tip of his sword.

He sheathed the blade, smiled in satisfaction at his handiwork, and managed almost three steps back towards the cottage before slumping to one knee and bursting into tears.

. . . . .

Kimmi didn't know how long shi'd been wandering around. The map shi was forming in hir mind was starting to look like that cheese with the holes in it that shi used to enjoy back in hir tower. Shi HAD to have crossed hir own path half a dozen times, surely, but the well-worn stone beneath hir paws had no pebbles, or even dust, for hir to confirm this with. Despite being trapped underground in some sort of forgotten catacombs, the place was remarkably well-kept.

Shi had found many doors, and many more portals where the doors had been removed or simply rotted away. To the best of hir ability, the chambers beyond were all empty, as devoid of any sort of debris as the main corridors. Shi searched down side passages, hardly as wide as hir own body, but always found hirself back in broad, high-ceilinged corridors that could have let three such taurs pass.

Storage, perhaps, shi mused. So many rooms. Some huge, some small, but all rectangular, and regular, and clean.

_ _

"And empty," shi whispered to hirself, hir ears flattening at the sudden explosion of hir voice. It was hard to tell how much time had passed, maybe ten minutes, maybe two hours, but other than the scuff of hir paws, as well as hir more bruised and tender hindportions, against the stone floor, shi'd not made a noise.

Shi pawed at hirself, checking once again for any battered spots or grevious injuries. Other than a bouquet of bruises, shi seemed quite unharmed, which only added to the mystery. Shi knew shi'd been in the clearing with Isima, and there'd been some sort of... presence. The light, the radiance, the feeling of intense love and contentment.

Waking up in shackles deep underground tended to suit hir lot in life, but it didn't easily stem from that strange, magical visitation.

Kimmi backtracked a few paces, found a wooden door inset with thin wrought-iron bars, and smashed it to pieces with one devastating blow.

"Just... had to get that out of my system," shi grunted, brushing splinters out of hir hair. "Doesn't mean I'm angry. I'm just... concerned. And frustrated. That's all it is. Yeah."

Squaring hir shoulders, shi started off again, paws stretched out in front. In hir mental map, shi was pretty sure that there were some blank spots if shi zig-zagged in a generally leftwards direction. There had to be a way out of these damn corridors, after all! The air was, not fresh, exactly, but not stale. There was water dripping and some kind of regular, mechanical grinding noise, but with all of the echoes it could be coming from anywhere.

It didn't help that half a dozen doors lay demolished in hir wake, which tended to mentally reset hir sense of direction.

"I'm coming, Isima," Kimmi growled. The soft, heavyset princess wasn't about to let hir first courtship end like this.

---

It was close to evening when Shingen found the scroll he was looking for.

Townsfolk had been driving by, in ones and twos, all afternoon. Isima, their favorite barmaid, hadn't turned up for hir shift at the inn, which was the subtle pretext they used to lead into why the Princess also hadn't arrived for hir thrice-daily gorgings. They were capitalizing Princess when they spoke, he could just tell.

"Good afternoon, Sir Knight," they would say, a term that Shingen had never known until venturing forth from his mountaintop home. Kimmi had explained knights to him, and he supposed he'd have to remain flattered, though he didn't like the concept of knighthood being inextricably linked to ownership of land, and the inhabitants of that land. These downland folks didn't seem to have a term appropriate to describe a disciple of the Celestial Path. "Perchance, is the Princess feeling all right?"

Shingen responded politely, explaining that the Princess's whereabouts were currently the business of the Princess and no-one else. As time wore on, his responses became more terse, masking the inner insecurities he felt at what was growing dangerously tantamount to lying. Hir whereabouts were not his BUSINESS, exactly, but the very fact that he couldn't determine hir whereabouts was extremely troubling, considering their bond.

With the sun drifting lower on the horizon, visitors from the town found the little rat surrounded by scrolls, incredibly ornate documents wrapped around cylinders of black and silver or sticking out of magnificent red tubes. He would make efforts to conceal their contents from prying eyes, but it soon became obvious they couldn't read any of the Humble Ancestor's script. Still, it felt somehow wrong to let just anyone_lay eyes upon the _chot-mei. Shingen himself had been switched five times for looking up during a childhood burst of exuberance, during a reading by the Low Brither himself in one of the higher contemplatories back home.

Eventually he resorted to snapping "Shi isn't here!" whenever travellers approached, and one look at his expression sent the townsfolk on their way without a second glance. He was not angry, far from it; he still wasn't entirely sure if he could feel anger the way the downlands folk did. The few bursts he'd experienced through his bond with Kimmi had been confusing and unsettling.

He knew fear, though, and his eyes fairly dripped with nervous energy.

There were so many scrolls, and it took all afternoon to find exactly the right one. The chot-mei were not sorted, or 'indexed', to use Kimmi's word, as the books of the downlands were. The scrolls formed a loose narrative, with multiple circuitous deviations and tangents. Philosophical concepts were explored with metaphor and analogy, fables and suppositions. Historical events were told as ancient legends or prophetic dreams. More than once the Humble Ancestor engaged in long conversations with himself, and it was difficult to tell where thoughts started or finished. Most confusing to the young rat, who had heard but never truly seen the delicate calligraphic writings, were the large diagrams, the mathematical equations inserted into ramblings about the nature of love, and the rather upsettingly detailed diagrams of the insides of living creatures.

Finding any particular passage was the entire reason segments of the Brotherhood were dedicated to simply looking up information for other Brothers.

And now you're sitting on a dirty cottage porch, surrounded by the Humble Ancestor's writings, trying to figure out how you lost your bonded mount, who happens to be a deposed Princess in the body of a talking taur.

_ _

Shingen had known fear growing up, and he was learning all manner of new varieties in the downlands.

He scalled the scroll clutched tightly in his paws and confirmed that it did, indeed, seem to be the one he was looking for. The Humble Ancestor had many words concerning bonded mounts, but they were scattered all over. There was one story in particular, however, where his own mount, a confusingly non-specific creature that seemed to change size depending on the telling of the tale, had apparently died in its sleep.

Not willing to accept that course of events, the Humble Ancestor died himself, and ventured off into the afterlife to bring it back.

Tucking the scroll into his robes, Shingen carefully cleaned up the remaining chot-mei and packed them away. The time for panic was past.

Now it was time to study.

---

Finding the huge, broad, low-rising steps had given Kimmi a tremendous thrill. They led upwards, which was very nearly all of hir current wishes coming true, and there was the faintest hint of a breeze playing along hir whiskers.

So re-energized by hir discovery was shi that shi scarcely realized shi'd reached a landing, and nearly ran face-first into a solid stone wall before hir paws could backtrack. Fortunately, depending on your point of view, hir bosom was so proud and rather awkwardly full that it absorbed most of the impact, leaving hir breathless but otherwise uninjured.

Wheezing softly, shi felt hir way around the flat expanse of stone and soon found another set of stairs heading higher still. There were heavy carved handrails at either side, as well as a huge balustrade up the middle. It all seemed rather... ornate, considering the vacant subterranean motif. Why had such vast stoneworks been undertaken? Who had created them? Why had they been abandoned?

More to the point, who was maintaining them now?

Shi wanted to explore this new level, to see if Isima was being held captive here, but shi talked hirself out of it. If Isima was here, shi likely wouldn't be simply one level higher than Kimmi, not when so much trouble had been taken to drag the taur to the deepest, darkest depths of wherever the hell shi was. And if Isima was somewhere around here, and Kimmi missed hir, well, when Kimmi returned with torches and hir gauntlets, the rescue was going to be so much more dramatic, as well as effective, that shi hoped it would balance out.

Kimmi was just cresting the top of the second set of stairs when shi slapped hir forehead, visions of torches dancing before hir eyes. "IDIOT!" shi snapped, shaking hir muzzle. "You... you... how could you forget?!"

_ _

It seemed strange, given the abyssal darkness around hir and the obvious lack of any other living presence, but shi backed hirself into a nearby corner and hunkered down. Shi might be an escaped kidnap victim, but a princess had to maintain a certain level of modesty, after all.

Paw moving carefully, shi turned hir body as much as shi could manage, angling hir torso towards hir hindquarters. Shi pouted when shi realized that the best angle was passing hir paw through a huge rip in hir dress, but there was no point in crying over the damaged fashions. Shi would make a new dress when this was all done, a better dress, with reinforcing that could turn aside sword strikes.

Shi worked hir fingers between hir belly and the permanently-tense fuzzy bulk of hir sheath, trying to arch hir back and take some of the weight off of hirself. "Come on, where are you," shi muttered, feeling a cramp developing in hir shoulder already. Shi wasn't used to feeling... hirself, in this fashion, when shi wasn't in the bath. "Just... a little... further..."

Hir fingerclaws could just make out the little corded bundle tied around a braid of bellyfloof with some of Shingen's silk cord. It was for emergencies, he'd said... emergencies that shi seemed to find hirself embroiled in with alarming regularity. It was tucked away somewhere safe, somewhere secure, somewhere that even hir most vigorous sprinting couldn't dislodge.

Unfortunately, it was also somewhere that shi was having a bitch of a time reaching.

"Might as well ruin it completely," shi huffed, growing more disgruntled by the moment as shi rolled onto hir back. This would offer hir a better angle, shi hoped, especially if hir barrel wasn't squashing hir tender but extremely capacious endowments.

Shi could feel it against hir fingertips once more. Shi twisted hir barrel and rolled hir hips, four huge paws paddling skyward, if the location of the sky meant anything, wherever shi was. "When I get out of here," shi mumbled to hirself, if only to have something familiar to listen to other than that damn distant thumping, "I am going to move... this... closer... to... the... front..."

Shi could finally grasp it between two fingers when there was a creaking, metallic thud not fifty yards from hir and a sudden, piercing column of light stabbed out of the void. Hir shadow, inverted and grotesquely magnified, was cast upon a broad marble wall behind hir, mottled and cloudy pale stone striped through with veins of green.

Looking back, shi wished that hir next act hadn't been to scream hysterically.

---

Shingen trotted back into Milford shortly after midnight, not sticking to the shadows, the alleys, the rooftops. He strode down the center of the highway, and even at this hour there were a smattering of travelers; this region was remarkably well-kept and well-policed, and a single brute armed with a cudgel was all the protection a wealthy merchant wagon required.

His reputation had spread in the last few days, and even these wagons, pulled by mighty taurs and flanked by a pair of heavily-muscled clubs for hire, steered themselves carefully around him. They couldn't quite explain why; something about the set of the little rat's shoulders or the gleam in his eye, the rhythmic flexing and squeezing of his fists... they all seized upon different reasons, sprinkled liberally with the tall tales being bandied about concerning a talking taurish princess and hir tiny bodyguard, and called it a night.

"Evening, ho!" a friendly voice called from one of the buildings as he neared the town's great looping plaza. "Haven't seen you out... this... late... before?"

Shingen didn't even pause, didn't so much as flick an eyeball to the side.

The inn was open and lit, as all inns seemed destined to be at all hours. Most of the upper windows were shuttered and dark, but the long, low lobby was filled with the warm and inviting glow of lightly hooded lanterns. Laughter and the occasional clink of glassware and cutlery drifted out from the inn's all-day all-night dining hall, since the weary traveler knew only his hunger and his thirst.

"Good evening!" chirped the elderly canine sitting behind the inn's front desk. "Haven't seen you out this late before. Is your, ah, Princess friend accompanying y-"

Shingen stopped at the edge of the desk, his patience stretched to the limit but his upbringing preventing him from interrupting the inane prattle. The greying old wolf wound down like a child's toy, clutching her knitting closer to her belly as though fearing it might offend the rat.

When he was sure she wouldn't start up again, he spoke. "My companion has gone missing, as has your co-worker, a Miss Bergetrude Isima. They were last seen in the woods, in a brookside clearing approximately one-half of a mile north of the hillward road, between the Chesterson and Halloway farms. There is no evidence of their departure from that clearing."

The sounds from the dining hall had dimmed, and he could see a few heads twisted around to better accidentally overhear the conversation coming from the lobby. The old wolf coughed in a manner that might have been pretty some decades past. "I don't know what happened to her," she said softly. "She didn't show up this morning, so I done thought that maybe she'd... run off with that Princess of yours. She didn't try to hide how she was looking at hir, I can tell you that!"

"The Princess would not have run off," Shingen said. "More to the point, if shi had run off, shi would be supremely easy to track as the very act of running tends to leave extremely noticeable damage to the soft soil in this region."

"Well, I don't know what to-"

Shingen removed a tiny pouch from his white silken belt and upended it over the desk. "The only evidence of whatever transpired, be it fair or foul, are these flowers," he continued, shaking the pouch and dislodging two solid fistfuls of petals of such a faint hue it was impossible to tell if they were cyan or violet. They all but glowed in the lanterns' presence, but it was the glow of moonlight, not firelight.

The sound had died completely from the dining hall, and the old wolf's flews were quivering nervously. "They're not really springtime flowers, but you can still find-"

"There are no plants in that clearing, in the woods around the clearing, or indeed anywhere in this valley that produce these petals, madam," Shingen intoned carefully, his whiskers twitching ever so slightly. To a follower of the Celestial Path, it was akin to shouting.

"I just work the front counter, sir, on late nights, on account of my bladder not being what it used to be and me being up all hours of the night anyways, why do you think I know anything about-"

"You were sitting in the dining hall this morning, and you were not surprised to discover that Isima had not arrived for her duties," he replied, committing the supreme disrespect of cutting her off in the name of expediency. "In fact, no-one at this establishment seemed particularly surprised. Concerned, perhaps, but there was no fuss made. No footprints approached her cottage this day to investigate her presence, save my own. I assure you, madam, I have a very keen eye for that sort of thing."

"And so," he carried on, stepping back and raising his voice for the benefit of all those he knew were listening, "I am going to ask one time, and it is going to be polite, and if the answers are suiting to me I shall depart and you shall see no more of me."

A trembling set into his fingertips. The bond he shared with Kimmi was a vacuum, and all day the pressure or lack thereof within his mind had been gnawing away at his composure. The bond had grown strained when they were far apart, but there had always been the sense of companionship, of strength to their connection that mere distance couldn't break. That morning, he'd been able to sense the bond, undoubtedly present but strangely empty. The more he thought, the more he pondered, the more he probed their connection, the more achingly intense became the sense of loss, and the more the connection pulled on his soul, seemed to be wrenching him into some course of action.

But he was directionless, rudderless, and unfortunately clueless, except for the obscure writings of the Humble Ancestor and a handful of strange petals.

"And if the answers are not to my liking," he finished, voice strained, "then I would like to apologize in advance for any unpleasantness that may arise."

When he finally managed to sort out the cacophony of answers he suddenly found himself receiving, diners and employees alike crowding around him, desperate throats shouting to be heard over one another, he decided that perhaps a reputation such as his had its uses, after all.

---

Locked in hir cell many, many blind footsteps ago, hir bellows of rage had taken nearly a minute to fade away, reverberating back and forth from the rough worked stone.

Shi got a much better idea of the structure's scope around hir as shi listened to hir terrified screams bounced back and forth, rising and falling like waves lapping at a black sand beach. It reminded hir of hir incredibly spacious chambers back home, back when shi was a prisoner in all but name, and the way the giggles of hir housemaidens fluttered to and fro, lulling hir into blissful if slightly confused sleep.

Shi was on hir paws in a flash as soon as that bolt of light struck hir, all thoughts of hir emergency pouch forgotten, fists raised and ready to smash. After who knew how many hours alone in the darkness, though, wandering back and forth and retracing hir own steps countless times, the light was painful even with hir eyes clenched shut. Keeping hir tremendous mitts up protectively in front of hir, shi twisted hir head around and buried hir injured retinas in hir cleavage. Spots danced and left brilliant streaks in their wake, and shi just knew shi was going to look like shi'd been crying once shi adjusted.

Overtop of the fading, ghostlike remnants of hir screams, shi could hear approaching footsteps, a great many of them. They weren't hurried, and they didn't have the clomping, insistent impacts of jailors or thugs; more than anything, shi was reminded of hir handmaidens bringing hir breakfast in the mornings. It took ten of them, two to a tray, to bring hir first meal of the day.

Hir stomach rumbled and shi grimaced. Yes, now is EXACTLY the time for you to remember you haven't eaten! RIGHT NOW! OF COURSE! SHINGEN, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!

"GET BACK!" shi roared, trying to put as much feral rage into hir voice as possible. Blessed as shi was with a remarkable ribcage, this was quite easy. Shi threw a short right hook and a tight left uppercut, exactly as Shingen had shown hir; it looked flashy, and if done correctly would prevent anyone from trying to enter that particular personal space unless they had a deathwish. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

The footsteps stopped. Kimmi cracked an eye, tears streaming from the incandescent fury assaulting hir tender nerves, and just managed to make out some small, dark blobs swimming in an ocean of brilliant yellow. Most anthros were small blobs, from hir perspective, so shi still didn't have an especially good idea of what strange enemy shi now faced.

"As you wish," spoke a soft, feminine voice. The shuffling resumed, moving away from the enraged taur a short distance. "We did not mean to startle you. We had only just now learned of your presence in the cellars, and had been sent to fetch you."

Kimmi blinked furiously, trying to return some control to hir vision and some sense to hir world. Whoever was speaking sounded... frankly, the only word that came to mind was 'motherly'. There was age there, and wisdom, and a peculiar sort of tenderness. There were stirrings of nostalgic memories from hir puphood, snippets and scenes that shi only seemed to remember in dreams.

"Th-thanks?" shi managed, lowering hir fists. Slightly. Realizing shi was losing control of the situation, another important lesson shi'd been learning from Shingen, shi straightened hir back and snapped, "Where am I?"

"You are in the Temple of Seriphos, miss," the voice continued, apparently unperturbed to be speaking to a huge, talking husky-taur in a badly damaged evening gown. Kimmi's sort-of-good eye narrowed; the casual response was suspicious in and of itself. "We apologize, but the lower levels are rarely used these days, and-"

"Where's Isima?" Kimmi growled, taking a step forwards. "Is she here, too? Is she all right? IS SHE ALL RIGHT?!"

The roars echoed like the early first warnings of a thunderstorm cresting a hill. "Your companion is perfectly all right," chuckled the voice, which seemed to be coming from the closest of a row of maybe half a dozen hooded robed. The robes were not quite dark, as shi'd thought, but were in fact brilliantly white, with thick black edging and trim. As hir eyes finally adjusted and some sense of contrast returned to the world, Kimmi saw that all six figures were female, with paws clasped before them and heads bowed respectfully beneath hoods that looked like immense seashells.

The girls were of all types: a tall, willowy equine, a slightly shorter jackrabbit with her ears folded back beneath her hood, and even a soft golden kittygirl that wouldn't have even come up to the underside of one of Kimmi's breasts. The speaker, however, caught hir eye instantly.

"You're a husky," Kimmi breathed, lowering hir fists a hair further.

The robed woman smiled, greying fur swirling around her eyes. She bowed her head slightly, a few wisps of silvery hair peeking out of hir hood. "Is that so strange?"

"I... I just haven't seen many since leaving home," the taur spoke, a touch of sadness entering hir voice. "Maybe two or three. They... _we..._huskies, I mean, are among the nobles of Estragonia. The current ruling lineage, in fact."

The robed woman pursed her lips. "Estragonia... yes, I am familiar with it. Little country up north. Not very big on guests or trade, if I recall. Do you hail from there?"

They must have heard of me, Kimmi thought. No-one can go thirty whole seconds without remarking, 'Land's sakes and gods above, a talking taur! Who's playing a joke on me?'

"Once," Kimmi replied, feeling in control of hir faculties once more. Now that shi could spare a thought for hir surroundings, shi realized shi was at one end of a tremendous colonnade, the open doors at the distant opposite wall. Beyond the columns shi saw only darkness, but just to hir side, the faintly dusted evidence of hir footprints led between two massive stone pillars to the stairs shi'd so recently ascended. "Where am I now?"

"The Temple of Seriphos, miss," the robed lady smiled, her followers similarly grinning. "You arrived in our basements-"

"I was chained. To a wall. In a locked room. In the darkness."

"Ah." A frown, looking quite inappropriate on the kindly husky's face, creased her muzzle. "That is... unexpected. The spells that guard and protect us from the outside world would never translocate someone such as yourself in such a fashion. That is... highly irregular."

"What? Why? Spells? Where did it trans... translocate Isima? Where is she now?"

"Would it be possible to answer those out of order, perhaps while we walk? You must be tired, and confused, and I dare say hungry, and we have much more comfortable lodgings in the higher levels." Moving as one, the young robed women took a step back and swung their arms invitingly towards the huge open door.

Kimmi didn't trust them. Shi'd met far too many people in the last several months, and anyone who seemed open and friendly right off the bat was, almost without exception, just waiting for their chance to kill hir, kidnap hir, sell hir, or some combination of the three. These ladies in their spotless and, to hir untrained eye, quite gorgeous robes were among the friendliest shi'd ever encountered, and shi found hirself wanting to trust the older husky immediately. Those eyes were kind and warm, the voice wise and sympathetic. Shi could just imagine hirself hugging that apron-clad midsection as a youth, having hir own raven mane stroked, words of comfort flowing over hir like so much rain...

Obviously a trap, shi thought.

"Absolutely," shi said, nodding briskly and straightening hir posture. Shi smoothed hir paws against the remains of hir own gown and smiled down imperiously at hir hospitable captors. "Lead the way."

---

The picture came together remarkably quickly once they realized that their secret was out.

Realizing that they weren't absolutely essential to the retelling of Milford's not-so-secret secret, most of the inn's patrons decided they would be happier literally anywhere else. Shingen was sitting cross-legged in a large armchair by the inn's main fireplace with the three remaining self-elected ambassadors, enjoying the warmth and attempting to draw sustenance from it. Many of the chot-mei spoke of being nourished from sunshine, from rain, from fire and frost, and Shingen was determined to master those traits before the coming winter. It was one of the few ways he could channel his focus and his energy while he listened, in order to prevent himself from slapping the town's residents unconscious.

"It's only every couple years," one of Milford's grizzled deputies was saying, a thick-bodied and thoroughly disreputable-looking badger. "When we get these second springs, when summer's carrying on longer than it aught, the whole of the area knows to stay out of Grim's Woods."

"Which are south of town," Shingen murmured, eyes opened to slits.

"Yes!"

"Kimmi and Miss Isima were to the north of here."

"Yes, it's... it's usually in Grim's Woods. That's why we named that whole area Grim's Woods, when it just used to be Farmer Grim's meadow further to the east. Helped folks, travelers like yourself, to listen when told y'all to steer clear of there."

It was true, they had been warned to avoid Grim's Woods at all costs, and Kimmi, being wise in the ways of not ignoring folk advice, heartily obeyed. "Then why have they gone missing elsewhere?"

"That... is the thing, isn't it," the old wolfmaid who'd been watching the front desk said carefully. "Everyone steers clear of Grim's Woods, especially years like this. Ain't no-one goes in there, not anymore. Not after all the disappearances back, oh, sixty years. There's picnics there in the early summer and in the autumn, when there's frost on the air, sort of as our way to, you know, remind ourselves it ain't all bad."

"Then why have they gone missing elsewhere?" Shingen said, the tiniest sandy edge to his tongue setting everyone's whiskers up and ears down.

The third remaining spokesman for Milford was old, perhaps older than the other two combined. The stubs of her antlers looked like mossy twigs, and she sat even closer to the fire than did Shingen himself, shivering away under a shawl that could have protected the rat's entire childhood hut during the depths of the Sunless Nights. "Because sometimes, if the dark that lives in Grim's Woods doesn't find what it craves, it goes a'huntin' for it," the doe creaked.

Shingen nodded. It was as he'd suspected, more or less. "There is a spirit there," he stated.

"No," the aged doe wheezed. "Not a spirit. Spirit's are what lives, what souls are made of. Spirits walk down the streets on the Night of the Dead. Spirits come back from bloody ends to put paws of soot upon the faces of those guilty. Spirits twinkle in the sky when you's thinkin' back over your life and wondering why you ain't dead when you should be."

The rat listened carefully. The old crone was rambling, but there was a strength to her words, a cognizance held together with that bedrock of emotions: anger. "Spirits are all around," he agreed.

"What's down in those woods ain't no spirit, ain't nothin' that was ever alive," the doe snapped, everyone's tails stiffening. Shingen blinked, shocked at her outburst, but kept motionless. "What's down there's the opposite of a spirit. It ain't dead cause it weren't ever alive. It's what you get when there's no life at all, and never was. Where d'yo think things like that go when folks move in, cut down the trees, plow the fields, raise families? Huh? Where d'you think they go?!"

Isima's grandmother had been kept and comforted in her home all day, well-wishers apologizing for her loss and bringing her hampers of food, but upon hearing that the Princess had gone missing and hir companion was threatening to tear the inn in half with his mighty blade, she'd tottered over immediately. A dozen helpful paws had tried to steer her back to her domicile, just a short distance from the middle of town, but Shingen's sharp eyes had caught the frantic politeness with which they tried to deal with her, and he'd insisted she stay.

"I will find your granddaughter," Shingen said solemnly, bowing to the ancient doe.

The doe sniffed, shivering despite the heat. "I know you'll try, young man," she whispered, sinking into herself. "Everyone tried when my Delena disappeared in, oh, what year was it... you know, I don't remember exactly. It was seventy... seventy two... seventy three years ago? What year is it now? It's... no, it was seventy-three years ago, I remember. Everyone was talking about the autumn celebrations, the barndances, the traveling musicians who were setting up at farm after farm, working their way east to west, somewhere different every night. Delena'd fallen in for one of them, some big strapping boy with a drum and his fancy hair and not a lick of sense, and they'd taken to stealing off at night, and he'd not believed the stories of Grim's Woods. Course, it wasn't called Grim's Woods back then, it was just called the Long Wood on account of it following both of them cricks to that pool at the middle, and it was still in between Grim's farmstead and that other one, what's his name, oh... Berman, help me out, what was his name?"

The badger shrugged, still trying to follow along with the doe's words. Her daughter, one of seven, had indeed been one of the earliest of Milford's children to disappear; the words 'taken' or 'stolen' were never used, except in the most hushed tones. Whatever malevolence lived in those woods seeped out, invisibly, during these preternaturally late summers, taken those in the flush of their youth, and always in twos. As the stories went, they were nearly always young lovers, their trysts undiscovered until their disappearances were noticed.

Once Grim's Woods had become off limits during these strange years, the disappearances greatly decreased in number... but did not stop entirely. The entirety of the broad, lush valley fell infrequent prey to the presence, sometimes plucked from their very homes. It was seen as the cost of their safety, their livelihood: the valley was always fertile, was always temperate, was always peaceful and protected from the vagaries and treacheries of the outside world. Two souls every handful of years? More folk than that died from simple accidents. It was hardly to be noticed.

Shingen stared through half-lidded eyes at the small, frail, and sometimes furious figure of the elderly doe, and set his jaw.

There was always someone to notice...

Unfolding his legs carefully, Shingen slid from the unaccustomed comfort of the chair and stretched. It was late, and he'd hardly slept since the night before, but he felt not the slightest hint of tiredness. He was finding it possible to operate longer and longer at a state of alertness and attentiveness, even though Kimmi claimed to be picking up the slack through their connection; the less he slept, testing his limits, the more shi seemed to nap during the day.

The doe and badger were still trying to figure out who'd owned the farm on the other side of the cursed wood in days gone by, while the elderly wolf stared down at her knitting. "We wanted to tell you," she breathed. "Some people thought... a warrior like you, maybe you could succeed where all of our young menfolk had failed in the past. Others thought you'd... blame us. In the end, it seemed everyone'd decided to act like it was a mystery, and hope you'd... you'd..."

"Carry on?"

The wolf nodded. "Carry on."

He smiled, and while there was no mirth, he hoped there was no bitterness in his expression, either. "Who would miss one more talking taur, hmm?"

"I... er... well..."

Shingen nodded, brushing an errant pale hair back out of his eyes. "I will return with news of Isima," he spoke, not unkindly, "or not at all."

"You must think we're awful," the aged wolf sniffed. "I just wish we could give you more to go on. After the first few... you know, years... people stopped trying to find out more. Didn't want to know more. It was easier to think that it was... just one of those things. Keep the mystery, you know? Wouldn't do no good to know exactly what it was, an' knowing there's naught you could do to help."

Shingen twiddled one of the lotus petals between his fingers. "You say these are just as much of a mystery, though."

The wolf nodded miserably. "Seen 'em at a few of the... disappearances. The ones out of town. Never seen 'em anywhere that's been built up. But still, only some of 'em. No-one's sure what they mean. A few people done asked seers, mystics, clerics, what have you, when they come through town. All they say is-"

"-they don't grow around here?" Shingen finished, to which the wolf nodded. "As I suspected."

The wolf clutched at her knitting. "Do you know what they mean?"

Shingen was briefly beset by memories of the vision pools of his childhood, the mirror-like ponds of glacial water arranged in precipitous steps up the side of the Reaper's Mountain. Many were the hours that Acolytes, Brothers, Keepers, and even the Low Master himself, would perch meditatively on the standing stones on a nearby outcropping, observing the pools, in search of a true moment of clarity. The Humble Ancestor's writings spoke of seeing all thirty-nine pools simultaneously stilled, not a single puff of wind or falling snowflake or most delicately settled petal marring their purity.

As a youth, it had been one of Shingen's many chores to swing out over the ponds on a rickety bamboo boom and collect the lotus petals before the day's meditations.

"No," he whispered, tucking the petal into his robe. "I just know they're powerful."

---

The Temple of Seriphos, as Kimmi was now compelled to call hir new temporary home, was a vast subterranean complex that shi was assured was built as a giant pyramid. The very apex of the immense triangular structure apparently poked a handful of yards above the surface high above, and it was this enchanted capstone that had been ensorcelled many generations ago to transport followers and supplicants into the Temple's heart.

'But why? No-one warned us there was... anything like that!"

"Milford is largely unaware of our presence," Ninos said placidly, walking alongside the nervous huskytaur. "It serves both of our purposes quite well to remain so. The followers of Seriphos enjoy their privacy, and the folk of Milford are nice enough but have always maintained a... rather stiff view of our ways."

Their mission completed, the other young priestesses scurried off to attend to their other chores and the two huskies were left alone. These portions of the temple were quite well-lit, breathtakingly monochromatic stone cut and fit together in intricately geometric patterns. Even back in hir high royal tower as a much younger Princess, shi'd never seen marble so white nor granite so black. The columns, the floors, even the freized beams supporting the high ceilings were made from the same two hues polished to a high sheen. There were several different repeating patterns, each of which seemed to be built on some sort of mathematical principle that heavily featured the number eight.

"Is that because you sometimes transmocated them into your dungeons and chained them up?" Kimmi asked with only a hint of wry frustration.

"Not at-... well, perhaps a few times," Ninos admitted with a small chuckle. "The enchantments can not tell if a person is good or bad, pure or corrupt, but they were designed to keep those who were unworthy or meant ill will out, though why they don't simply deny access to folk such as that is beyond me. It was... before my time," the two-legged husky sighed, spreading her paws helplessly. "I cannot apologize enough, truly."

"Yes," Kimmi agreed. COME ON, SHINGEN, shi shouted in hir mind. WHERE ARE YOU?!

"Isima was translocated to one of our upper antechambers, the sort normally reserved for supplicants."

"Mmm. Some sort of warning sign might do you a world of good in the future," Kimmi murmured offhandedly, tracing hir fingertips along the peculiar patterns. Shi was positive shi was seeing something important, vitally important, but shi couldn't put hir tongue on it. "Or perhaps a fence? Or maybe you could post one of your priestesses with a torch..."

Ninos chuckled. "Again, I apologize. You were some distance from the apex, and it should normally require specific entreatment. It does seem to have been acting in a peculiar fashion lately. We've had a few accidental translocations, and they're nearly always, ah, a couple."

"A couple what?"

The husky blinked and Kimmi couldn't be certain but she might also be blushing. "A couple," she said again. "Usually a young man and a young woman, but occasionally otherwise."

It was Kimmi's turn to blush. "Oh," shi managed, focusing on hir bosom once more rather than the strange architecture. "Just... what sort of Temple is this? What is Seriphos the deity of?"

Ninos's grin nearly split her head, her eyes lighting up with joy. "Shi is the Goddess of Rebirth, of the full moon and the starless night, of endings and beginnings, of the great Unification Of All Unto One. Shi is the wholesome and perfect embodiment of all that will ever Be."

Kimmi nodded, smiling hirself but doing hir best to bite back the comments that leapt to mind. "That sounds... lovely," shi said, stepping aside as two huddled priestesses scurried by. "I would love to learn more, but I feel I really should just ensure Isima is all right and return her to her people. We've been away for quite some time, and I worry that they may think I've done ill of her!"

The pair ascended another staircase, this one switchbacking upon itself and overtop itself several times, suspended seemingly by nothing. Kimmi's breath caught at seeing platform upon platform composed of that dizzying black and white stone, and the differing elevations passing behind one another made hir stomach flip.

"We're fairly sure that the good folk of Milford know where your friend is," Ninos spoke smoothly, stroking Kimmi's paw. The huge taur fought the urge to tug hir paw back, feeling distinctly ill at ease from that familiar, maternal touch. "This isn't the first time their folk have bumbled into our domain."

"Do they find their way back?"

"With our help, they get where they need to go, fear not," Ninos smiled.

Yeah, that wasn't... suspicious... SHINGEN! YOU STUPID LITTLE MOLE RAT! THIS IS YOUR FAULT SOMEHOW, I JUST KNOW IT!

The temple seemed more palatial by the moment. The strange rhythmic thumping seemed very close now, but through walls of solid stone it could all be an illusion. High towers, broad corridors, dense colonnades backed by immensely detailed walls of onyx and alabaster. Kimmi blinked and rubbed hir eyes, positive that some of the intricately detailed portions of the stonework were moving, tiles no larger than hir pinky claws cut and placed in and around the huge structural slabs.

"Admiring the story of our Lady?"

Kimmi blinked. "Hrmm? The story?"

"Oh, yes," Ninos breathed. "These stones tell the great and timeless take of our Lady, of hir passage through the realms of Life and Death and Rebirth, of hir joyous union with the Moon, hir slumber with hir Thousand Lovers, and of hir great Awakening. I... understand if it may be difficult to understand the story. We spend a great amount of our daily time in meditation, gazing upon the stones and reading the history of the future. Understanding is not a swift path," she added with a waggle of her finger that reminded Kimmi far too much of hir housemaidens.

"I would imagine so," Kimmi nodded, imagining hirself rising up and driving both fists straight through one of those priceless works of art. "Are we-"

"Here we are!" Ninos said brightly, rounding a corner that seemed to appear out of nowhere, an unexpected gap between two columns that formed a high, narrow archway. "The sequestories house our honored guests during their stay."

Here the doors were large enough to allow even Kimmi to pass easily, composed of single slabs of that black granite and inset with white tiles that reminded hir of stained glass. "Sturdy doors for just guests," shi noted.

"We believe in the gifts of solitude and silence." The shabbily-dressed taur was led to one such door, which was inlaid with stones of such tiny size that, from a distance, Kimmi thought shi'd finally found the first curved line in the whole temple. Ninos extended a hand from her robes, wrist thin and delicate, and rapped a knuckle against the portal with no apparent resulting sound.

Kimmi just stared, wondering how anyone could possibly have heard such a minuscule impact. Shi wanted to reach out and try knocking hirself, but Ninos stood attentive, expectant. The huge herm's pervasive doubt was itself losing strength; there seemed to be no ill intent in the kindly husky's words or actions, and there had been countless chances before now to recapture or otherwise imprison hir.

"I-" shi started to say, but was cut off by the door opening without so much as a whisper. If anything, the sound of the displaced air whooshing around the razor-cut edges as it shifted in the frame was the loudest part.

And then hir jaw dropped, and Ninos was forgotten.

The robe was similar to those worn by everyone shi'd seen in the temple, extraordinarily fine black and white fabric stitched with intricate, spidery patterns, but there was no denying that it was stretched around a figure far more impressive than it had been originally designed. "Kimmi?" Isima gasped.

"ISIMA!" Kimmi cried, barreling forwards and only just managing not to clip hir forehead on the solid granite door frame. Shi swept up the hourglassed doe like hir favorite stuffed toy, squeezing her to hir vast bosom and planting kisses all over her muzzle. "YOU'RE ALL RIGHT!"

Isima squealed once, still not used to being swung through the air with such ease, but before long she was kicking her legs gaily and doing her best to hug Kimmi back. "I'm all right, I'm all right! The Sisters of Seriphos have been very kind!" she giggled in between kisses, gasping only slightly for breath from the crushing force of Kimmi's embrace. "Are you all right? They couldn't find you!"

"ISIMA!" was all that the taur seemed capable of, blinking away a few tears of only slight worried panic. "Isima!"

"Yes, yes, it's me! Are you all right? Oh, your dress!"

"I know! I know!"

Ninos smiled beatifically, watching the two amorous furres reunited. The sequestories were not designed for comfort, but rather for placid and uninterrupted self-reflection and meditation. A few pillows had been brought up for the guest's comfort until she could be properly reunified, but otherwise the room was a sparse and spare cube of black and white stone.

The priestess reached out and touched the face of the portal, somehow swinging it shut again without seeming to pull on it.

"We will come fetch you when it is time," she called gently, leaning to the side to see through the narrowing gap between the door and the fortress-like granite walls.

Kimmi heaved a huge sigh and smiled, leaning forwards and depositing Isima back onto her hooves with a little clack-clack. "Time for what?" shi asked gratefully, tossing hir hair and looking back over hir shoulder.

But there was no response.

The door had shut, and from this side there was no visible crack to show where it had once been. A smooth face of polished nubian stone, buffed to the point Kimmi could use hir reflection to style hir hair, was all that remained.

Hir shoulders slumped.

"Fuck," shi sighed, as shi had always been taught never to speak.

---

Hir Royal Grace the Princess Kimmi looked at the seamless face of glossy black granite.

Shi swung hir head around, staring slack-jawed at Isima.

Then back to the wall, sharp eyes scanning uselessly for where shi was pretty sure the outline of the door _used_to be.

And again back to Isima, a mixture of fury and shame twisting hir features and bringing tears to hir eyes.

"I..." shi started, clenching hir fists and fighting the urge to smack them against hir sides. Shi'd caused more than a few bruises in that fashion, hir frustration bubbling over quite easily despite hir daily meditation. Kimmi hiccupped, and tried again. "I was rescuing you..."

The words sounded paltry and plaintive in hir ears. Shingen would have scolded hir for making excuses. Hir housemaidens would have sighed and urged hir not to give up, urged hir to try again. The huge princess had picked up the written word easily enough, but hir misshapen body had resisted developing every physical skill shi'd attempted more complicated than eating (that one had never posed a problem.)

Shi blinked furiously, rumbling deep in hir chest. Shi was dressed in the soiled, tattered remnants of a formerly splendid evening gown. Chains trailed from manacles still encirlcing hir wrist and ankle. Shi stared at them, feeling tremendously stupid. "I never asked them to take them off," shi breathed, twitching when Isima's stubby but sleek fingers reached out to touch the sore, worn flesh there. "I never even asked why I ended up in chains. I... I just... I knew it was a trap, I knew something was wrong... but I followed her, because she promised to take me to you..."

"It's all right," the shapely doe breathed, stepping in closer to embrace hir burly almost-saviour. "You did find me, after all."

"They led me to you! Like... like some animal!" Kimmi snapped, still largely oblivious to Isima's presence. "Look at me! I might as well be in leashes! They stored me away, and then when I started to get ornery they put me in a stronger cage!"

Isima couldn't quite get her arms around Kimmi's waist, not with the princess's vast bosom blocking her. Nevertheless, she managd to get her palms on Kimmi's waist, squeezing reassuringly. "You will be victorious, Princess!" she said, smiling up to the huskytaur. "You've shared such amazing adventures with us, you and Shingen. I... I never thought I would be in one of them, to be sure, but this surely mustn't be the end! Your friend is no doubt on his way to rescue us!"

Kimmi still saw only hir failure, only the many ways shi'd doomed one of the first people shi'd had feelings for. Shi still wasn't sure exactly what the feelings were, or what they meant, or what shi was supposed to DO with them, but that they were feeling shi could be absolutely certain. Hir brain felt cold and sweaty, hir stomach loose and twisty, hir loins warm and tingly, whenever shi laid eyes on a certain plump doe, and-

Shi froze, and very slowly brought hir gaze down. "What?"

"Shingen! He is noble and true. The way he speaks, or doesn't speak, but just seems to stare at you. He seems the sort to travel to the ends of the world to find you, does he not?"

"I... I don't know..." Kimmi murmured, lip shaking. "I can't... I can't feel him him my head. It's just... snow..."

_ _

Isima frowned. "In your head? You... you weren't exaggerating? You can feel eachother? In your heads?!"

Kimmi nodded ruefully, choking back another tear. Is the bond severed? Am I somehow too far to be sensed? Is... is he dead?

_ _

"I had thought you telling tall tales!" Isima gasped, grinning. "You... well, he may just be quite far away? The Sisters told me this temple is really quite far underground, and is ensorcelled against discovery. Perhaps it is shielding you from him?"

"M-maybe," the taur agreed dubiously, very slowly wrapping hir arms around Isima, returning the hug that had been offered for so long. "You're so brave. If I'd been you... and I have been, a lot," shi laughed bitterly, "I'd be terrified out of my mind."

Isima's grin deepened. "How could I be terrified with you in my arms?"

Kimmi's brain went cold, hir belly flipped upside down, and a peculiar tightness seemed to tug hir tail down and hir nethers up. All around, the black and white stonework sought to give hir vertigo, so shi fought back by gazing into Isima's upturned face, remembering those few moments from the night before when shi'd thought shi might be truly, madly, completely in love.

"You might need to be brave for the both of us," Kimmi smiled, sniffling and feeling that familiar warmth returning to hir chest.

The doe blinked. "Brave for _you..._why?"

"Because," Kimmi chuckled, leaning down to kiss Isima. "When I get this angry, I stop being brave and start being stupid."

"You don't seem ang-"

Moving with a speed that took Isima's breath away, Kimmi took a single careful step backwards, turned, and lunged at the wall that had so recently contained a door. Fists like fluffy anvils whooshed through the air, challenged only by the muffled roar rushing through Kimmi's clenched teeth.

---

Grim's Woods were decidedly pleasant on this dog-day of summer. Despite the somewhat stereotypically foreboding name, the woods were thickly populated with heavy birch, festooned with goatsbeard moss, and brightly-colored wildflowers grew everywhere a speckle of sunlight could pierce the canopy. The nearby stream had ages ago been widened and straightened for irrigation, leaving the winding oxbows to eventually drift together into a dense, marshy thicket less than a mile wide and a little more than three miles long.

On any other day, he would have been searching for blackberries for the Princess, listening to the birds singing, and composing poetry in the back of his mind. The verdant yellow and green foliage fairly glowed in the early morning sunlight. He stepped from mossy patch to mossy patch ,easily picking out where the soil was spongy and dark. He would have preferred to stalk among the heavy branches overhead, but he needed every minute up-close detail he could manage.

Munching on the occasional blackberry, he could see why the woods remained after all this time. It would take a heroic effort just to make a dent in this swamp, and even then the land made available wouldn't be viable for quite some time. It would be a huge investment by both neighboring farmers, for questionable payoff.

Taking into account the reports of haunting and the occasional disappearance, it was no surprise the local attitude had become 'leave well enough alone'. Whatever intelligence haunted these boughs was clearly aware enough to limit its abductions; any more than every handful of years and it might have driven the locals away. The balance had been stuck between fear and familiarity.

Shingen reached out with his senses, trying to listen for the strange heartbeat that were Kimmi's baseline thoughts. The chot-mei had mentioned many different sorts of mental signatures. The Humble Ancestor had bonded with many of the creatures native to the rat's homeland, befriended them, lived among them, and died with them attending his funeral. Some had mental signatures described as the sound leaves made when they stopped rustling in the wond, some were described as the way snow smelled before it fell, some were described as the taste of love in spring.

Only one had been described as a heartbeat, and the Humble Ancestor hadn't spoken much more about that bond.

"Starlight, where are you?" he whispered to himself, swinging around the base of a huge, gently rotting birch and dancing along a cluster of fallen logs. Kimmi was no stranger to getting lost, to running off, to being abducted... really, the first and the third were the most common things to happen to hir since they'd met. Shi had a remarkable gift. In every instance, shi'd managed to locate hirself or free hirself, though shi sometimes required a little bit of a boost, either to hir perception or hir self-esteem.

But he'd always been able to sense hir. Even when shi was seemingly a great distance away, he could direct himself to hir with ease.

He longed to hear hir heartbeat once more.

The thicket was slow moving, even for one as small and nimble as the tough little rat. He crossed huge, murky pools by climbing the trees and leaping from branch to branch, inevitably lowering himself to ground level on the other side. Despite his best efforts, his white robes and leggings were picking up a thin patina of powdered moss and pond scum.

In spite of the lifetime devoted to serenity, to introspection, to perfection mind and body and dedication to the service of the Universe, he muttered under his breath at the smell that seemed to be rising not just from the undergrowth, but from his own fur.

Shingen pushed his way through a hedge of some sort of green-berried shrub Kimmi would no doubt be able to identify. Shi'd seemingly memorized hundreds of books during hir youth, many of which were wonderfully illustrated, and shi seemed to delight in teaching Shingen many countless dull facts about the world around them. While he did not find himself particularly interested in what the plant was called in four languages or how snails were used to spread the seeds, it was a rather daunting revelation to discover that for all of his own studies, he knew but a footnote of the true vastness of existence. It was a humbling experience, and one that he cherished.

Another humbling experience occurred when he reached the other side of the hedge. His eyes widened, and he reached for the hilt of his sword before he was aware of it, and by a hair managed to stop himself from drawing.

"Starlight," he swore, inching back into the hedge. "What did you do?"

---

"THRICE-DAMNED WALL!! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME?! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO TOUGH!? YOU THINK YOU'RE SO STRONG?!"

Isima was flattened against the wall furthest from the enraged taur, paws covering her ears. Even so, she could feel the rough vibrations through her hooves and against her back, and the echoes of the princess's furious bellows pressed against her eyeballs.

Kimmi's entire body twisted, hir hips sinking low to give hirself lift and leverage, paws moving in a complicated shuffle to keep hir weight constantly loaded and ready to launch. Shingen had taught hir well these last few months, and shi was pleased that it took all of three whole minutes smashing against solid stone for hir to feel one of hir knuckles pop from the strain. In the old days, that would have happened almost immediately!

"Kimmi...?"

"YOU!" Smash. "DON'T!" Smash. "DECIDE!" Smash. "MY!!" Smash. "FATE!!!"

Rising up onto hir hindpaws, ears nearly touching the ceiling, shi brought both fists down like hammers. The impact seemed to turn the very air around the two furres solid, knocking the breath from Kimmi's great chest and finally causing Isima to slide away from the wall, ending up dazed on her rump.

Panting, shoulders sagging, Kimmi pressed hir forehead against the unyielding stone and released one last ragged explusion of fury. Hir fists throbbed; shi could feel everywhere shi'd worn the fur away, feel the knuckles that shi knew would be swollen before much longer. Shi was pretty sure shi'd loosened the root of one claw, to boot, and that was going to be a real bitch when hir body decided to properly notice it.

Nevertheless, when Isima uncovered her little ears, shi was surprised to hear Kimmi giggling softly to hirself. "Princess? Are... are you all right?" she asked, eyes huge with awe. She'd never imagined that the immense, but soft-spoken and soft-looking, huskytaur could have been capable of such fantastic violence. Clear across the chamber and subject to only the faint vestiges and periphery of Kimmi's assault, she felt as though she'd taken a tumble down the stairs.

"'m fine," Kimmi wheezed, turning to place hir cheek against the stone. Hir exposed eye rolled white before settling on Isima, and there was genuine mirth there. Hir nose wrinkled and shi sneezed. "See?"

The doe cocked her head to one side. "Are you... sure, Princess? You scared me there!"

Placing hir palms flat against the wall and pushing hirself off, wincing as two knuckles protested angrily, Kimmi just nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I... I kept telling you I don't really act like a Princess."

Isima was about to inquire further, wondering if it was safe to approach, when Kimmi reached up and hooked a single claw into the wall. Shi tugged, winced again, but pulled free a veneer of polished onyx stone the size of a dinner plate. It tumbled, bounced off the wall after one rotation, and shattered into hardly more than splinters and dust. Despite the complete absence of color within the material, the floor suddenly seemed to glint as though a thousand stars shon beneath their paws.

The doe's jaw dropped, beholding flat, dull granite beneath that fracture, as well as a few flakes of mortar. "Wow," she breathed, impressed but at the same time dubious. "Well... one quarter inch down, twelve more inches to go?"

"Not quite," Kimmi winked, slowly catching hir breath. "Obsidian... if that's what that was, and based on how it shattered I think that's fairly good to assume... is phenomenally hard, but also phenomenally brittle. With full lateral support of the stone behind it, it was almost impossible to crack. It was like painting over regular rock with steel."

The huge husky grinned, inhaled, and shook hir paws before clenching hir fists anew. "This, however, is just rock. And me and rock... we have an understanding."

Isima had enough time to cover hir ears before Kimmi began to smash once more, with renewed purpose and a clear target.

---

Shingen spent a full hour circling the hedge, moving from ground level to canopy and back a dozen times. It took almost that long to make the complete circuit, moving carefully and silently. Every sense was stretched to the limit, his ears straining until he thought an insect taking flight might deafen him.

There was no worry of that; there were no insects. There were no birds. The tiny crawling and scampering and slithering creatures of Grim's Woods all kept well clear of the hedge. A few journeys away from the hedge, always marking his location so he would not miss a single inch, a single leaf, confirmed this.

The hedge formed a rough circle, the northern border of which curved up the nearby hill somewhat. He was almost positive that, viewed from the top, it would be a PERFECT circle. The hedge was incredibly thick and overgrown, and he'd thought it planted with a purpose, but now he harbored another suspicion: it was a defensive measure.

He was put in mind of scar tissue forming around a caustic burn, and this did nothing to reassure him.

And so it was that an hour later, comforted by the mid-morning sun and with a bracing bellyful of a quarter wedge of cheese, Shingen sat on top of the hedge. He sank not more than a handspan into the brush, those tough little leaves and sinewy, veinous branches providing a nearly solid surface. His sheathed sword lay across his lap. His back was straight, his eyes clear, his tail curled neatly around his legs.

Most crucially, his eyes remained focused on the object glinting at the center of the clearing, on the small golden pyramid sticking out of the black, noxious, fetid swamp of decay that had formed around it.

It couldn't have been taller than he, and at this distance it was difficult to make out accurately. He'd completed more than half the circuit before he'd been able to say with any certainty what the object's true shape was, and that was only due to how the shadows shifted and changed as he travelled. It was a pyramid, four regular sides branching out at what he was fairly sure would have been some sort of mathematically significant angle. It was roughly as wide as it was tall...

... and it was, even to the little rat, a tremendous distance away, considering the terrain that lay between.

He pulled another thread from his robe, balling it up between thumb and forefinger. More threads were coming loose these days, which he supposed was not a commentary on his skill or diligence as a warrior, but merely the cost of travelling. He would need to investigate the possibility of a new robe soon, his first in half a decade, and he could only hope that these lowlands folk somewhere possessed the skills needed to match the only fabrics that were permitted to touch his fur.

He flicked the tiny sphere of carefully-crafted cotton into the air, watching it arc out and to the side in the faint breeze, only to combust mere inches from the surface of the strange, eldritch swamp.

"Starlight," he whispered, as he had for the last dozen balls of thread. It was, he supposed, some sort of a prayer; back home, he'd have lit a candle with his left hand and then extinguished it with the pads on his right, whispering the thought out loud. He had only the length of time that his flesh produced the hiss from muffling the fire to place his entreaties into the smoke, ensorcelled by his very flesh offered up as sacrifice... anything else would be wasted, forever lost on the ether.

For the first time, he entertained the thought that, perhaps, that practice was more to offer solace to the prayer-giver than an actual method of communication with the omnipresence of the Universe.

Shingen shook his head and straightened. There was nothing else for it.

The chot-mei didn't mention toxic black swamps directly, but there were numerous references to the Humble Ancestor's travels into the heathen lowlands. Forest that burned eternal, great expanses of desert where ice blossomed in the night like flowers, jagged crenellated fortresses of crystal and stone where not so much as a single square inch lay flat and true; Humble Ancestor had travelled them all, hardly unscathed but always willing to learn from the experience.

Shingen just hoped that the Ninth Level of Wholeness offered some sort of boon more obvious than allowing himself to offer his own bare paws up to the Princess when it came time for hir weekly combat testing.

"K'hali'fae a uma la ula u ununa, m'iae fa u la uma la k'hamite," he chanted, rising to his feet and slinging his sheathed blade around his hips once more. He stepped to the edge of the tightly-knotted greenery until the dainty claws of his toes hung out over drafty emptiness and, further below, the unknown fetid exhumations of that mysterious pyramid.

"K'ahmite, uma ula m'iae, k'havien."

He took one more step.

And dropped.