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In the backroom of a small store, a long-tailed weasel and a jaguar were wrapped around each other in the way lovers often were. It was near the end of winter and a chill had settled into the granite walls. A blaze in the corner fireplace and the couple's body heat provided enough warmth for comfort.

The other side of the long room held rows of narrow shelves filled with various powders, spices, and teas. The aromatic wares filled the room with pleasant scents. However, on the narrow bed where the spotted felid and white-furred weasel writhed together, the mingled scents of their arousal formed the boundaries of their own world.

"Your fur is like the snow, so soft and pure," the jaguar murmured between nips of the weasel's neck. He spoke flawless Taigarin, but a thick accent gave an exotic flavor to each word. They made Zeth shiver as much as Xi's sharp teeth.

Through the haze of pleasure, the weasel realized they would soon reach their peaks, and he still hadn't found a good opportunity. He was running out of time. He focused on the beads the jaguar wore in thin braids of headfur trailing down the back of his head. Each was a shade of white or black, and carved with a finely detailed, intricate design.

"We need to hurry," he whispered, playing to the sense of danger. "Master Steo will return soon."

His words had their desired effect, and as the urgency of their lovemaking intensified, Zeth wrapped his arms around the feline's neck and shoulders. The prince hardly seemed to notice the shift in weight as he lifted Zeth's entire body up and down against him, muscles coiling against the weasel's body, like steel sheathed in velvet.

With effort, the weasel ignored the jaguar's energetic efforts, focusing instead on the single white bead dangling just behind his right ear. Zeth didn't recognize the creature that had been carved into it - the witch had called it a feathered serpent - but he knew it was the bead they had asked for. He internalized a desperate prayer to Spring, the god most revered by thieves, then distracted the jaguar with a kiss while nimble fingers did their work.

The deed done, the relieved weasel allowed himself to be pressed against his feathered mattress. He arched his back and stretched, using the motion to hide the bead underneath his pillow while his legs pulled the jaguar closer. Soon, the feline shuddered and rocked his hips against the weasel's rear, reaching his climax. Zeth quickly joined him, showing his appreciation with a shared sticky mess.

Once they'd regained their breath, Xi rumbled against him. "You must teach me what you did with your tongue."

Zeth nuzzled under his chin. "If you command it, Highness," the weasel teased.

Prince Xipil of Cohanat was the third son of a powerful southern monarch, sent north to entreat with the Council of Taigarin Kings during their annual winter conclave. As a merchant's apprentice, Zeth knew little of the politics involved, but Master Steo had been eager for the prospect of improved relations and new trade.

The prince had first come to the shop in search of chocolate and cinnamon. Dressed in fine clothing that showed off his athletic figure, the jaguar also wore several pieces of unusual jewelry: a simple headdress adorned with feathers, a broad necklace made of precious metals, and several elaborate bands around his arms. Only a fur-lined cloak acknowledged the frigid winter winds blowing through the streets of Ibatis.

Jaguars were rare so far north, as were the famed spices of their kingdom. Fortunately, Steo was a shrewd merchant with many connections, and the shop did carry a limited selection of such luxuries. While Zeth showed the jaguar Steo's reserves, a series of accidental touches, furtive smiles, and playful banter revealed a connection between them.

When Xi had returned that night to share a bottle of wine, what happened next seemed inevitable.

Due to the difference in their status, they'd been forced to keep their relationship secret, but they had begun meeting as often as they could - sometimes overnight, and sometimes when business was slow and Master Steo's attention was elsewhere.

Zeth kneaded at the jaguar's chest, admiring the clean lines of his well-defined muscles. The jaguar chuffed his approval while his own fingers found the sensitive place above the weasel's tail. "You are the greatest treasure in this city," the jaguar murmured in the confident-bordering-on-arrogant tone he used when praising Zeth. "You should come back with me to Cohanat. You could be an ambassador for your guild. This fur... you would be the envy of every consort."

The weasel reveled in the praise. He knew it was vanity, but the way the jaguar fawned over his snow-white winter coat brought him a pleasure nearly as satisfying as their lovemaking. That feeling and Xi's affection were the reasons the weasel felt compelled to find a way to make it last.

"The Merchant's Guild wouldn't appreciate you granting an apprentice such a title. They'd probably have me killed."

Xi seemed unworried. "I am a great warrior. I would protect you."

The weasel sighed and set his chin on his lover's chest. Despite his affection, Zeth knew that this was a fleeting romance. When spring came, his winter coat would molt away, revealing the common weasel underneath. And, Zeth knew, Xi would discard him, as his previous lover had. However, he had a plan that could change all that.

After Xi had left, Zeth finally retired to his bed for the evening. The exhausted weasel retrieved the bead and examined it under his bedside lantern. Made of bone, it was about the size of the first knuckle of his smallest finger. It had been polished to a high shine and the engraved feathered serpent gleamed in the light.

As he studied the bead, Zeth tried to understand why the witch had demanded it as payment. It was only a bead, he reminded himself whenever guilt made him start to question his decision. Xi was a noble, and could easily replace such an item. In fact, the prince might not even realize it was missing. With that thought spurring renewed resolve, the weasel secured the bead in his purse, dressed in his warmest cloak, then ventured into the frigid night.

***

A few hours later, Zeth stood in front of a crooked wooden door of a crumbling stone building. He was about an hour's walk from the city walls, deep in the Bastis Woods.

Three centuries earlier, Bastis had been one of Vigrid's greatest cities. Near the end of the Inquest War, it had been burned, the survivors scattered. The land was abandoned for over a generation, and by the time Ibatis had been founded, the forest had already reclaimed most of the ruins, which had already earned a reputation for being haunted.

Only the witch still lived within the city's crumbling ruins, in what had once been a tower. What remained was a rounded, single story building at the crest of a hill.

"Come in," came a scratchy, commanding voice after Zeth worked up the nerve to knock. He forced himself to step inside.

The old caribou's home was divided into two semi-circular rooms that shared a large fireplace at the center. The front room was a jumble of mismatched tables, chairs, shelves, and cabinets - most in a state of disrepair. Although disorganized, the placement of certain items made divisions between a kitchen, sitting area, and workshop somewhat discernible. Most were covered in books, but a few held far stranger items, many of which Zeth couldn't identify.

"Did you bring the bead?" they said, not looking up from their work. They were weaving several

leather cords together to form a braid. Rising amidst short gray headfur between their ears was a pair of spindly antlers stripped of their velvet. They reminded him of dead trees.

No one knew the witch's name, or even their gender, but most assumed they were tied to one of the Tigrain noble families. Witchery and other arcane arts were feared, but far from illegal. In fact, many powerful families employed at least one rune caster or witch, if only for protection from others. If they were a noble, no one knew why they chose to live in self-imposed exile.

Reluctantly, Zeth withdrew the bead and placed it on the table they were working at. A pleased smile crept across their broad muzzle as they held it up to the firelight.

"He can never know that I took it," Zeth said.

"It will not come from my muzzle," they said, closing a fist around the bead and turning their attention back to Zeth. "The bargain has been struck, and I will give you what you seek. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Still grinning, they retrieved a glass decanter filled with a clear oily liquid from a neighboring table. "Remove your clothing," they commanded before hooves clacked across the stone floor and paws began rummaging through an oversized kitchen cabinet.

Shocked, he was unable to move at first. When they sensed his dithering, the witch leered back at him. "You must stand naked in the light of Winter's moon," they said, as if that explained everything. Still uncertain, but eager to get this over with, Zeth began to unfasten the clasp of his cloak. This seemed to satisfy the witch, who returned to what they'd been doing.

As Zeth was placing his folded underclothes on top of his other clothing, the witch placed a large porcelain basin onto a table, then emptied the decanter into it. With a sinking sensation, the weasel realized the basin was an old chamber pot. He hoped he wouldn't need to drink from it.

The witch ushered him outside, then thrust the basin into his paws. The weasel knew there would be no one else in these woods to see his nudity, but his fur bristled, as if a thousand eyes were peering at him from the darkness. The basin was heavy and filled nearly to the top, so he had to be careful to keep it level. Each movement of the viscous liquid carried the woody scent of juniper.

"I will now conjure the magic," the witch explained. "It will take time. Do not speak." When he nodded his assent, the witch stepped close and began to sing while wide hands waved over the bowl. It reminded him of the hymns the wolven priests sometimes sang on the first night of winter: haunting and mournful.

After a few moments, a dazzling array of swirling, colored lights coalesced around both of them until, concentrated, they began to hover over the bowl. When the song reached a crescendo, the lights began to fade, but their reflection in the oily liquid remained. In fact, it seemed to grow brighter, as if the lights themselves had been infused into the oil.

When the song ended, the caribou looked directly into the weasel's eyes. "I must now anoint your fur."

His paws trembled as the witch dipped their paws into the shimmering oil. Soon, fingers and paws were running over his body. They slid against every sensitive place and coated every inch of fur, making him feel both humiliated and aroused. He flinched once, when the witch reached his sheath. They laughed at him, but did not hesitate to continue, even when Zeth's body began to respond to the physical sensation.

As they worked, he noticed something curious: wherever the moonlight illuminated the anointed fur, still saturated in the oil, a faint iridescent hue lingered. Thrice, the witch stepped back to examine their work, only to return and smear more oil into places they had missed.

"The refraction will only be visible under the light of the full moon. Your fur will remain pure and unblemished, as if your winter coat had just emerged."

Zeth blinked. "That's all? I don't need to do anything else?"

The witch laughed a scratchy chuckle. "Should an old witch give such a handsome young man advice on caring for his fur?"

When he didn't seem pacified, they sighed. "The magic is drawn from Winter's moon. If the coat is damaged, you may stand naked under that light to renew the spell. It is divine magic, however, so a great blasphemy against the Accord may disrupt it. Stay clear of divine affairs, and that should never come to pass."

"Is there another way for the magic to end?"

The witch's eyes gleamed. "There is one. I conjured the magic, and so the spell has created a bond between my will and your being. We are now connected by an arcane thread. The spell cannot end without mutual consent, but it can be altered. Should you become my enemy, however, your fur would be the least of your concerns."

***

The implied threat in the witch's words weighed heavily on Zeth for the next few days. He was sweeping the storefront's stone floor, distracted by memories of the witch's threat, when a disheveled Xi stumbled inside. He ignored Master Steo, who was helping a lynx select a scented powder for her fur, and took Zeth by the shoulders. He looked into the jaguar's eyes, and Zeth saw something he'd never expected to see there: panic.

"Zeth," he said, tone solemn. "I am missing something very important to me. Have you found anything? Perhaps in your bed?" He held up a thumb and forefinger a short distance apart. "It is very small."

Master Steo muttered an apology to the lynx before ambling over to the jaguar. "Prince Xipil," the portly fox said in his "difficult customer" voice. "I assure you that if we were to find anything of yours, we would have sent a messenger to the palace right away. What is it you're missing?"

Xi released Zeth's shoulders, looking abashed as he peered between the weasel and fox, finally setting his gaze on the master. The Merchant's Guild held a long rivalry with the nobles of Tigrain. While the open dispute had been settled decades earlier, the guild still held all nobility to high expectations of decorum, mostly in the form of protocols nobles were to follow with members. One of those rules demanded that someone of Xi's station acknowledge the guild member before interacting with any other employee.

"My apologies, Master Steo," he said, forcing some of the usual swagger into his voice. "I am missing one of the beads I wear. The last time I am certain I had it was the morning we... I came to purchase more cinnamon."

The weasel felt his ears burning and wondered if the master could see his blush.

"Well, Zethin, have you seen anything like that?" Steo said pointedly.

"N-No, Master."

Zeth could see Xi's spirits sink. "I can search if you'll let me, Master."

Xi leapt onto the suggestion. "I will help."

The fox looked between the two of them, eyes narrow with suspicion. "Of course, Your Highness. Zethin, be thorough, but efficient. There is much more work to do today."

"Of course, Master."

In the backroom, Zeth expected the jaguar to relax, as he had always done when they were alone together. Instead, he stepped quickly towards Zeth's bed and began running his paws over the quilt. The weasel paused, then stepped close enough that he could whisper without Steo overhearing. "I'm... sorry about your bead, Xi. Can't you just get another one when you get home?"

The prince discarded his cloak, then dropped to his paws and knees to look under the bed. "It is a family heirloom. It cannot be replaced."

The weasel covered up his guilt by pretending to search behind his nightstand. After a few seconds of silence, he finally asked, "So, it just has sentimental value?"

The jaguar paused, then stood. Golden eyes regarded Zeth in a way the weasel had never experienced before. "Zeth, please. If you know where it is, you must tell me."

Zeth was stunned. "No! I'm just curious."

The jaguar placed a paw on Zeth's shoulder. "Zeth, the bead... it could be very dangerous in the wrong paws. If you know something..."

He shook his head in another denial, but couldn't stop himself from asking another question. "How is it dangerous?"

The jaguar dropped his paw, then sat down on the bed, expression sober.

"As most nobles, my family's founder once carried a divine mantle, as have several others in our line," he explained. "Some of that power passes into the blood and down through generations. For some, it is also bound to our bones." He looked meaningfully at Zeth. "That bead was once my grandfather's fingerbone. With it, anyone could learn to draw on some of his power."

Zeth tried to conceal his shock. "You're a sorcerer?"

The jaguar shook his head. "I lack meaningful power. The few things I can do require the bead."

Zeth hesitated, then asked one more question. "What would happen if someone stole it? Like a true sorcerer, or... a witch?"

The jaguar looked back into Zeth's eyes. His gaze was searching. "Besides the sorcerous power bound to it, the bead is inextricably linked to my grandfather's blood. An arcanist could exploit that to any number of ends. Murder, being one of the least creative. Zeth, if I don't get that bead back, all of Cohanat could be in danger."

Zeth spent several hours pretending to search the shop with Xi. Master Steo eventually called an end to the farce. Xi reluctantly returned to the palace.

Consumed by guilt, the weasel did not have to feign illness when he approached Steo and asked to end his shift early. Zeth had declined Steo's offer to call a physician, but he did accept the ginger tea the fox brought him later, which helped settle his nerves. At least a little.

All he'd wanted was to be something special for Xi - more than just some pleasant dalliance in a foreign land. If he had put the jaguar's family in danger, he would not be able to live with himself. As he thought about his options, the weasel realized there was only one way to rectify the situation: retrieve the bead, accept whatever payment the witch required, and then confess everything to Xi when he returned it.

***

When Steo closed the shop for the day, Zeth wasted no time. In moments, he was on the path into the woods, running through the dense trees and decaying ruins as quickly as his legs could carry him.

When the witch opened the door to his insistent knocking, he'd all but forced himself inside to speak with them. "Please," he begged. "I'll meet any price. End the spell if you must. I need to return the bead."

The witch clutched at the leather braid they wore on their neck, where the bead had been secured. "You made the bargain."

"The bargain is invalid. The bead wasn't mine to give." It was the kind of argument Master Steo might have been proud of. The witch, however, was unmoved.

"It is mine by right. Now leave, boy. Our business has ended."

They turned their back on him, expecting him to follow their commands as he had the night he'd stolen the bead. A part of him wanted to, but the memory of Xi's desperation spurred him to seek out another solution. The witch began walking away, and his eyes fell on the porcelain basin they'd used during the spell, resting on the table within reach. A moment later he was slamming the full weight of it onto the back of their head.

The sound of the basin shattering seemed deafening as the witch stumbled into another table, then pulled it and its contents down to the ground, burying most of their upper body in a collection of heavy books. There was a silence following the sudden act of violence, and for a terrifying moment, Zeth thought he had killed them. Then he heard a pained groan and the weasel knew he'd only bought himself a few minutes. He crouched next to them long enough to take the leather braid then ran into the night.

Ignoring the path, cold branches and brambles tore at his fur and clothing while he sprinted through the dark woods. He did not hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late to react.

A weight fell on his shoulder, and a gasp escaped his muzzle as he tumbled to the ground. He rolled several times, coming to a stop at the base of a snow bank. For a terrifying moment, he assumed the witch had somehow caught up to him, but crouching next to him was a jaguar in dark leather armor, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you all right?"

The weasel was dazed, but he shook his head and tried to get back to his feet. Xi helped him. "Xi, I... I'm sorry. The witch--"

An agonizing pain shot through the weasel, and he felt as if every muscle was suddenly cramping at once. He struggled to speak, to move, to give any kind of sign of distress, but nothing would move. At the sudden quiet, Xi, who had been looking back the direction Zeth had come from, turned his attention back to the weasel. "When you asked about a witch, I suspected-" his eyes drifted down, and Zeth realized the jaguar was staring at the leather braid still clutched in his paw. The pain in his expression was clear.

Zeth tried to offer an apology. Instead, the voice that came from his throat was not his own.

"Leave the weasel." It took Zeth a moment to realize the witch's voice had come from his throat. "He is mine. Leave, or I will end him now."

The jaguar's eyes narrowed, and he drew the dagger at his hip. "Zeth?"

"No, Prince."

The jaguar growled softly as he apparently recognized something in the weasel. "You're the witch." There was no question in the tone. "Release him."

Faster than Zeth thought he could move, his own slender fingers wrapped around the edge of Xi's dagger. His grip was not tight, but the blade was sharp, and blood began to drip down his wrist and to the ground. It hurt, but he was powerless to stop.

Whether from surprise or worry, Xi released the dagger. In seconds, the weasel was holding the blade to his own throat, the cold metal biting into his skin.

"Leave, or I will make him drown in blood."

The jaguar hesitated, his eyes searching Zeth's for several long seconds before he released a short snort of frustration and began to slowly step backwards. "Don't hurt him."

"Oh, the weasel will hurt. But I will keep him alive."

Tail lashing in irritation, Xi continued backing away. Zeth's heart sank when the prince could no longer be seen. He felt abandoned, even if he knew the prince was only trying to save him.

He couldn't say how long he stood in the cold, but his fingers felt numb when the knife lowered and his body began to trudge back through the woods of its own accord. The witch did not allow him to walk around brambles or other hazards, and when he arrived at their home, his footprints were stained red.

The witch waited for him in front of the house. The braid was still gripped in his uninjured paw, and, unprompted, he handed it to the witch in a jerky movement. They examined the bead for one long moment, then focused their dark eyes on Zeth's. With malice in her expression, the weasel felt himself begin to drag the knife down the center of his torso, pressing deep enough to cut through his clothing and leave a shallow cut in his skin.

They released control of his voice, which he only realized when a groan of pain escaped him.

"You were warned," the witch said as he was forced to peel off the tunic he'd cut through. His other clothes soon joined it in a pile in front of him. They raised the hand holding the braid, and the white bead at its center began to glow the color of the sun. It hurt Zeth's eyes to look, but they would not allow him to avert his eyes. His clothing began to burn.

"Do you know what the jaguars do to witches?" the witch said.

Despite the patches of snow between Zeth and his burning clothes, a thin line of golden fire began to burn its way towards him. Although he willed himself to step back, his muscles refused to obey. Desperate, he tried to speak and was surprised to realize he could.

"N-no."

The flame traced a circle around him, and he felt blistering heat beginning to grow stronger as the snow around him melted, boiling away into steam.

"They burn them," they said, venom dripping from each word.

His fur started to singe from the flames as they climbed higher around him. "Please don't do this. I didn't want to hurt you."

They ignored him. "Cohanat was once ruled by witches. It was a center for learning. A place anyone could learn to channel magic, not just the nobility. Then the jaguars came, claiming to represent the gods. Through conquest, they took power, and wherever their armies took root, they made witches criminals. Those they did not murder outright were tortured for the names of their friends, then burned alive."

Zeth was beginning to hyperventilate as the golden flames circled him. His fur, beautiful just moments earlier, started to burn away in patches, tarnished by the magical flames. He screamed in terror, but was surprised to feel no pain beyond the discomfort from the incredible heat. His skin was untouched.

"Are you talking about the Inquest War? That was 300 years ago!"

They flicked a wrist, and Zeth cried out as the knife tore a three inch gash across his lower abdomen. "Does time lessen the sting of such brutality, weasel? Do you know what he did to your people? To this very city?" they gestured around them, and the flames abruptly vanished.

"They laid siege to the city for two years because the ruler refused to surrender his witch-trained child to them. When the city fell, your jaguar's blood put the city to the torch and slaughtered every member of the nobility they could find. But not the child," they grinned at Zeth, as if sharing a private joke with him. "They escaped through the ancient catacombs underneath the city."

Zeth realized what the witch was hinting at, and he glared at them. "That's not possible."

The witch's gaze became distant. "Oh, yes. Only divine magic can extend life," they said. "But the child was fair and beautiful, and one of the gods took pity on them."

"You... became a vessel for one of the seasons," he realized. The Accord allowed only seasons to grant such magic to mortals, and then only for their vessels, who carried their divine mantles when the gods walked across Vigrid.

"Spring," the witch said softly. There was a reverence in their voice.

The church taught that Spring was a deity of regrowth and flexibility. Zeth had never met a vessel, but he knew that the experience could transform a mortal. Those Spring chose often led tragic lives, and his influence was said to renew them.

"The people they hurt are all dead! Who are you avenging?"

"Myself," the witch snarled and Zeth was forced to cut himself again. He could not stop from crying out.

He realized now that he would never leave this place alive. Whatever the witch's intent, they would only use him to hurt Xi. And the easiest way to do that was to hurt him. "Please, you don't have to do this. Xi is a good person. He woul--"

They clenched a fist and Zeth could no longer speak. After a moment of silence, the glaring witch began moving their fingers in slow vertically-slashing movements. Forced to stand rigid, the blade in Zeth's bleeding hand began to cut shallow parallel lines into his torso. He could no longer cry out or even beg for his life. All they had left for him was pain.

But it was the emotional pain that caused tears to begin streaming down his cheeks. He wanted so much to fix his mistake, and now he would never have the chance.

The appearance of a shadowed figure behind the witch's house was so sudden, he would have cried out had he been able to. The jaguar's footsteps made no sound against the soft ground, and the witch had no chance to react until Xi was on them, tearing with claws and fangs. Once, a beam of golden light carved a line down one of Xi's arms and pierced the night sky. Then it came to a violent end, and the dismembered witch lay dead, glassy eyes reflecting the stars of the night sky.

Zeth collapsed to his knees, then fell completely to the ground as his cramped muscles were allowed to finally relax. His entire body throbbed in pain, but he breathed deeply between sobs as he realized it was over. Xi quickly covered the distance between them and carefully helped the weasel onto his back.

"Hold still, Zeth. I need to examine your wounds."

Zeth's eyes were fixated on the witch's body and he couldn't manage to form the words to acknowledge the jaguar.

"Shh. Don't look. It's over now." Xi gripped his chin and made Zeth look at him. His other paw, he held the bead.

"This won't hurt, but it may feel strange," he said, moving his empty paw to Zeth's torso and pressing firmly. A warmth began to spread over the weasel's body, like the caress of sunlight on a hot summer day. When it was done, Zeth was panting softly, but he soon realized his wounds were no longer bleeding. His fur, however, was beyond salvaging.

"Xi, I'm so sorry. I..." he struggled to find the words. "I convinced myself it was just a bead, but," his gaze shifted briefly to the corpse, then he forced himself to look at the bead instead. "I think I knew deep down that it was more. I just wanted to be beautiful for you."

"The bead is safe. I can forgive you for being tempted by a witch. Far wiser beings have been tempted by dark magic. What hurts is that you thought you needed to do this for me. You've always been beautiful. Even now, I think I might lose myself in your eyes."

"But you're a prince, and I'm just some apprentice, you--"

The jaguar shushed him with a gentle finger. "Zeth, you are special because you're you. Your fur was beautiful. Your eyes are beautiful. But what I love is here." He pressed a finger into the center of the weasel's chest. "For this to work, I need you to trust that."

Zeth shook his head, "The Conclave will be over soon. Won't you be leaving when winter ends?"

The jaguar climbed to his feet and held out a paw to Zeth, who soon joined him. "I've been working on that. I still think you could be an ambassador for your guild. Steo has been petitioning for your promotion."

The weasel's entire body ached, and he was forced to lean against the jaguar as they walked back towards the city. "Really?"

"Yes. Feelings aside, I need a guild representative in Cohanat to help establish the new trade routes. I know you would do well. If you want to come with me, I can make that happen."

The weasel considered. He knew he'd made many mistakes with the witch. Could this be another? The prince's offer meant immense, frightening change. But, he now knew that Xi could be depended on. And he realized, at least for now, that was enough.