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Several minutes had passed as the three of us tried to regain our composure. Lightwing managed to eat, joking weakly that she was rarely so upset that she'd ever miss a meal. We had agreed quickly enough that we needed to keep my bomb from going off quite yet. Getting the car out of the ditch still seemed the best thing to do first. I didn't tell them that the metaphorical pin to my information grenade was in the back seat of the vehicle. Next steps, I told myself. Just next steps.

We were finishing the meal when Heartsinger rounded the corner from the kitchen, a full chef's apron covering his daily garb. He seemed to be in good spirits, softening his mood very slightly when he saw me, his golden eyes regarding me with warmth. "How are you, Max?" His rich velvet baritone made it clear that he wasn't being merely polite; he really wanted to know.

I smiled softly at him. "I'm doing better, thank you. I think the sleep helped a lot." I nodded at the chafing dishes. "Do I have you to thank for that?"

The white wolf seemed to blush a little, his tail trying not to show its usual exuberance for fear of looking immodest. "I volunteered for the kitchen this morning, yes."

"He has a genius for making the most of scrambled eggs," Lightwing allowed, "even when in bunches."

Nodding my agreement, I said, "Thank you, Heartsinger. It was truly delicious."

He was unable to control his tail at that point, and I realized that, as with Darkstar, I hadn't used his name until now. My own tail returned a few wags to him; my smile was genuine and, for just a moment, the morning held some better promise.

I insisted on helping to carry plates and glasses to the kitchen and, with Lightwing to assist me, Darkstar was freed to go change into something more suited to everyday workwear. Following Heartsinger into the kitchen, with the comely Husky just behind us, I found myself dazzled by a huge, modern, restaurant-outfitted kitchen that also held beautiful wood cabinetry and artisan touches in several places. It was an updated version of the mansion kitchens seen in those British shows I'm so fond of, bringing in the conveniences and functionality without losing the warmth.

The white wolf guided me to the sink and sideboard, where I set my burdens down with others left before us. "It occurs to me that you might likely be able to produce nearly all of your breakfast foods from resources here on the land. The only thing you'd need to get from the store would be Pop-Tarts."

"We do not keep Pop-Tarts in the tribal kitchen!" Lightwing huffed impressively. Then, grinning, she added, "They're in the tribal larder, next to the Sugar Pops."

"Cheetos are one shelf over," Heartsinger laughed heartily, the warm baritone voice adding richness to the sound. "We're not entirely self-sufficient, Max. And besides, a little 'junk food' now and then makes a treat."

"No argument there," I grinned at him. "My downfall is..."

The hesitation went unnoticed, as I quickly censored my usual line of donuts... occupational hazard. I found a rapid substitute.

"...cookies. Oatmeal raisin, soft, heavy on the raisins." I patted my stomach self-consciously. "Good to keep things moving."

Another laugh from the wolf. "Moonsong is the bakery chef of Starhold. I might mention it to her, now you've sparked a craving."

"Fresh, warm, with ice cream?" Lightwing's eyes practically shone with begging. A thumbs-up from the lupine got her to wag and clap her forepaws with glee, making Heartsinger laugh and wag more. The cynic in me tried to claim that it was all just to help my cover. Something else in me really hoped that the response was true. Her gesture was innocent, puplike, and I thought about a young Husky who looked for magic. There was part of me that wanted to see through those eyes, even if just for a moment.

"Something to look forward to." The Husky turned her gaze to me, still sincere, still as uplifting as she could make it. "Well, Max, shall we see if we can locate Oaknail?"

I caught something in her gaze that asked me to trust her, as I had before. I brought up a smile from somewhere. "Good plan. Where shall we start?"

"Try the barn."

We turned to the new voice, to see Rainmist enter from the dining hall. The smile on her muzzle was soft and concerned as she approached me. She paused a short distance away, spreading her arms, her face a gentle question. I let myself accept her offer and embraced her warmly.

"You look better, Max," she murmured in my ear.

"Getting there," I replied, giving her a squeeze and releasing her gently. "Did you get your walk in the rain last night?"

"For a little while. I splashed in a few puddles, finding my way by the light from some of the downstairs windows. I was going to sit in the creek for a bit, but that water was colder than the rain, for some reason." Her smirk was friendly, self-cajoling. "Icy tushy not fun."

I felt my tail bob lower for a moment, just in sympathy. It made her chuckle as I said, "Another reason I prefer a walk in warm sun."

"You'll have that today," she grinned. "Which also means that we're likely to have more customers."

I blinked, having forgetten the sign at the base of the long drive until Lightwing filled in, "The store will be open later. We'll want to get your car out of the ditch before then." She gave a teasing jerk of her head in a let's get on with it gesture. I nodded and followed her out of the kitchen, waving at the otter and wolf, both of whom smiled benevolently. Rainmist's eyes held a twinkle that I tried not to notice too closely.

The Husky led me to the stairs, explaining, "I'd just like to get something out of my room. Want to come up?"

Hoping that I was reading the look in her eyes correctly, I answered, "Sure."

We made the upstairs landing in time to see Darkstar coming out of his room, dressed for the occasion. In one forepaw, he brandished my keys, which I had pocketed out of habit when I left the car behind last night. Lightwing was slightly ahead of me, so perhaps he caught some look in her eye. He glanced down the hall past us, then waved us back into his room and closed the door after us. I could hear all three of us expelling sighs of relief, having escaped detection. Turning to look at one another, we all had the same embarrassed reaction and promptly cracked up. We managed to contain our laughter enough not to be heard outside of his walls.

"What the hell are we doing?" Lightwing managed through a giggle. "And why are we laughing?"

"We'd make lousy spies," the lynx observed, grinning.

"Thank the gods for that," I nodded, unable to keep my tail from wagging in anxious mirth. "It's nerves. It's part of what keeping secrets does to us." I felt myself sobering all too quickly. "I hate it. I'm so sorry to have dragged you two into it like this."

Darkstar put a forepaw to my shoulder briefly. "We're almost done with it, Max. How are we going to tell the others, and when?"

I realized quickly that it was time for these two, at least, to know it all. They'd earned the right. "It will start just about the time that we open the car doors. I've brought Albion back home."

"It's real?" the lynx asked, a little pop-eyed.

"Very."

The lynx briefly explained to Lightwing what that meant. After taking a moment to absorb the information, she turned to me and hugged me tightly, whispering, "Thank you. Thank you for having the strength to do this."

Her response surprised me, and I returned the hug awkwardly. After a moment, she pulled gently away from me and said, "Time for us to return that favor. Let's get this done."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I appreciated the sweet air and clear skies that I found waiting for us outside. I wasn't quite ready believe in omens, but I'd take what I could get. The walk to the barn/stable was shorter than I remembered; it was certainly more comfortable, since I didn't have to run through the rain toward an unknown destination. Casting a look back over my shoulder, I realized that my sense of the house being more like a castle was well-founded, partly due to its size, partly to its façade. The exterior had been sculpted to look like stonework, probably using prefabricated sections, as genuine stonework would have been an enormous undertaking and prohibitively expensive. Even so, it was impressive.

The barn structure, seen in daylight, also seemed imposing. I'd not exactly been around barns or stables very much in my life (as close to "never" as made no odds), so I had nothing to compare it to. There was certainly some activity going on, however. I heard occasional bumps and banging further down the central aisle of the structure, noting that the large doors on that side were also open. My guides led me toward it, past the empty stalls for non-sapient horses. I wondered aloud where they'd got to.

"In the fenced-in area, grazing," Darkstar supplied. "They're turned out each morning so that we can muck out the stalls. I was given today off, to sleep in a bit. Oaknail and Oray took over for me and Heartsinger. We rotate out, just so we don't all get tired of it at the same time."

"Good plan," I smiled.

"That banging," Lightwing suggested, "is probably the two of them readying harnesses for the horses to pull out the car."

"Plural?" I asked. "More than one horse to pull out a car? I guess I never thought about it, but it seems..."

It took me a moment for me to realize that something had changed in the atmosphere around me. I turned to find Darkstar bearing his species' trademark smile and Lightwing reaching out a forepaw toward me, a grin on her own muzzle.

"I'll stop it," she said, touching my arm tenderly. "I was trying to lighten the mood."

"We're not entirely agrarian," the lynx explained. "I think those bangs might be work under the hood of one of the ATVs or a small tractor."

Making a snort through my nose, just to express a little annoyance, I noted, "I was taken here in a horse-drawn cart. It seemed reasonable."

"A question of need," Darkstar explained. "Last night, Oaknail and I were looking for Ginger, as well as seeing what we could of what the storm might have been doing to the road and the fencing, in case she'd managed to get out. A simple cart was all we needed, and Clipper actually likes the rain. Besides giving him something of a treat, we also avoided putting a bit more gas fumes into the atmosphere." He paused and smiled. "Besides, with the horrifying price of gas these days, it's cheaper!"

"No argument there."

We had crossed the interior of the barn/stable/whatsit and padded into the sunlight beyond. My eyes traveled to a large open field, a fenced-in area where several horses appeared to be grazing and wandering comfortably. Darkstar led us around to another building near which several cars were parked under covering that was created with both efficiency and aesthetics clearly in mind. It's not easy to make a carport look good; they managed by using paints, tinted plastic roofing, and some hardy trees nearby to help provide shade as well as the feeling that Detroit hadn't yet forced unnecessary intrusions into this natural place.

On the side of the building just beyond the carport, we found Oaknail and Frank closing up the hood on a large dark brown 4x4 truck with an extended cab. The cop in me did its best to make a guess as to the year and make of the beast, and he got as far as guessing that it was about ten years old and was a domestic make before I told the little bastard to shut up. Frank's first glance at me showed discomfort before he managed a weak smile. Oaknail came over to me slowly, standing before me with his arms to his sides, a warm, caring look on his face.

"Good morning, Max. How are you?"

I offered as much smile as I had in me, perhaps getting used to the question by now. "Better, thank you. A good night's sleep helped."

The bear nodded, happy with the response. "We're readying to rescue your car. Frank's lending us the power of his truck."

Chuckling, the tall mountain lion padded into view, retrieving his shirt from the front seat of the vehicle. I tried not to notice how well-formed he was, to keep me from remembering how I had voluntarily let my gym membership lapse. "The Beast should have enough power to get you unstuck. We can help push, to help control the recovery. Did you bring your keys?"

I patted the pocket of my pants, making the keys jingle, then remembered something that Michael had told me about his garb for MedSoc. "I'd taken pockets for granted. I thought period garb prohibited those?"

Lightwing looked at me as if I'd grown another limb. "Were you in a ren faire?"

"My pup, Michael. He had a Romany-like character who read Tarot at various faires and gatherings. He told me about the lack of pockets."

The grinning bear chuckled deep in his large chest. "We make pants and shirts in various styles; our preference for daily wear includes pockets. They're just too useful."

"All in favor?" Darkstar raised his forepaw formally.

Viewing the raised paws, Oaknail proclaimed, "Motion carried unanimously!"

I chuckled along with the others. "I like the voting system here."

"And you didn't even have to register." Lightwing patted my arm teasingly. "I vouched for you."

"Enough!" Oaknail's friendly bellow ended the caucus. "Who's going with us?"

"I'm going to beg off," the Husky said with what felt like a forced good humor. "You know how us females are so useless at the mechanical stuff." She raised her forepaws to fend off comments. "Let me get a few things done at the house, and I'll see you all when you get back there."

"We shouldn't be long," Frank assured her. "We'll have everything taken care of long before the store opens."

"When will that be?" I asked.

"Doors open at noon," Oaknail told me, "although a few folks sometimes show up early. We've got a few hours at least."

My stomach sank even as Frank waved us to "the Beast." Darkstar and I got into the spacious back seat as Frank took the wheel and the bear took shotgun without even having to call it. The mountain lion made a slow turn to aim us back toward the main road on the grounds (or, perhaps, just "the driveway," as far as the residents might be concerned). We took a graceful curve that I didn't remember from the night before, but I was at a considerable disadvantage in my sense of direction during my time under the tarp. I saw a small building set to one side, with a particularly nice metal-worked sign spelling out The Artisanry.

"The shop, I take it?"

"Got it in one," the bear chuckled. "We hope you'll stay long enough to have a look around, if you'd care to."

"It'd be a shame to have come all this way and miss the sights. Frank," I added, "I hope this doesn't come out wrong... you've done this before, right?"

The mountain lion laughed heartily. "Once or twice. Part of the price of driving a 4x4; everyone wants a little help with something. I first learned about recovery points and kinetic ropes from an online video. Don't panic! I also got some help from tow truck drivers over the past few years, so I know what I'm doing."

"Sorry," I grinned at him. "It ain't much, but it's what I got."

"All TLC here."

It took us only seconds to reach the car. I shouldn't have been surprised, as a truck in clear daylight can travel more quickly than a horse-drawn cart in a rainstorm-blackened night. The sinking feeling in my stomach turned into a knot, but only until I opened the door and put my hindpaws back on the ground. Moving forward is the only direction, after all. As Lightwing had said: Let's get this done.

Unseen by the other two, Darkstar put a forepaw to my shoulder and let his eyes ask the question. Yes, I nodded, I'm okay. I patted his forepaw with my own, thanking him for his strength. Forward. Only forward.

In daylight, it didn't look nearly as bad. On an angle, yes, and the side of the poor thing seemed to be partly in the way of rushing water. The creek did, after all, rise a bit after last night. Other than that, rescue seemed possible. I looked to Frank. "What do you think?"

"I think you did good, given the surprise on the road." He looked to and fro, assessing the vehicle and what it might need, then nodded. "We can do this."

The mountain lion set to work, making a quick job of it, while I tried not to feel too much like I was just along because I had the keys. He explained how it would work, with the kinetic rope that, in a way, was like a specialized bungee cord. He also suggested that we assist matters, carefully, by putting some muscle behind it.

"Put 'er in neutral," Frank asked.

Oaknail held the driver's side door open for me as I managed to get back in, put a hindpaw on the break, put in the key, turned it, find neutral... I heard some pings, so the battery and electrical seemed unfazed. Nice beginning. The passenger-side window stayed closed, just in case, but I tried the switch to lower the driver's side window, and it opened fully without complaint.

"Good sign," the bear echoed my thoughts. His eyes scanned the interior briefly, assessing the situation inside. "Looks more just wet than actually damaged. Let's hope we're lucky."

"We'll know more once it's out," Frank called. "Let's get into position."

My stereotyping waited for Darkstar to make some joke about that, then realized that it was my own expectation that brought that one up. I wasn't sure what to make of that.

The bear and lynx got behind the car, ready to add some push if need be. I was to push on the frame and stay near to the driver's door, to hop in and press the brake if the car started rolling when it was back on level ground. Oaknail shouted the signal, the mountain lion fired up his mechanical horses, and the kinetic rope pulled taut, then stretched a little. That was when I felt the car start to move. Frank's Beast was pulling at something of an angle, the idea being to help get wheels onto the level road, rather than pulling straight, which would likely keep the passenger-side wheels in the ditch. This is how he explained it to me, or at least how I remember it. I was just following orders.

Movement was caused less by the mountain lion's Beast and more by the rope trying to reduce its own stretch. The 4x4 was still, yet my own car was trying to move, helped along by the three of us offering assistance to the band. The front wheels came out on the first push, and the rest in only two more tries. The effort was gentle enough that I didn't have to rush into the vehicle to apply the brake. Happily, the seat itself was dry. The carpeting, the bits of detritus on the floors, and whatever else had landed on them was now under an inch or two of water.

"Yick," I articulated as I got back out of the car.

"And what would you have said if you'd not gone to college?" Darkstar chuckled, dusting off his forepaws. The lower ends of his pants and his hindpaws were wet but not muddy. It would appear that the stream did some good after all.

Frank joined us, glancing over the partially-soaked interior. "Let's get 'er into the garage. I can vacuum that out, and I can check the engine while I'm at it."

"I feel like I'm being a bother."

"Hey, I volunteered." The mountain lion's grin was entirely disarming.

"Besides that," Oaknail added, "it's our cow that got you into this situation anyway, so we owe at least that. Anything you need from in there?"

"Quick inventory." I first saw my SuperWonderThing in the corner of the passenger side paw-well and leaned in to fetch it. I brought it out carefully, unsure if water was dripping from outside or inside. "Is that thing about rice a myth?"

"Not necessarily," Darkstar said, taking the device carefully and fitting it into a shirt pocket. "We can always give it a try."

"If not, we'll see to replacing it," the bear added.

"Thank you," I said, meaning it. "I'll check with the insurance on it first. I'm such a klutz that I was afraid of dropping it. Maybe 'accidental drowning' is covered, too."

My assembled companions chuckled softly at that one. I looked around, realizing that there was only one thing left to rescue. I breathed as evenly as I could, reached into the back seat and brought forth the box that I had come to deliver.

"Lovely woodworking," Oaknail observed. I wasn't sure if his voice held a note of recognition. Probably my imagination.

Setting the box onto the trunk of the car, I moved to open it. Darkstar kept my secret all the way to this point, not crowding me to get a look at what he knew had to have lain within. I opened the lid, observing that the box wasn't waterproof but that very little water had gotten inside; the copy of The Tribal Manifesto was only a little soaked. I moved it to one side, withdrew Albion, and turned to face the rest of the party.

Oaknail knew his work at once; Darkstar had been told what it was, and his first glimpse of it caused a reaction just short of awestruck. Frank appeared not to know if perhaps he should be readying one devil of a knife fight.

The bear spoke quietly, without accusation. "Where did you get that?"

"From a tiger once known as Airdancer."

A flicker of recognition from Frank. Perhaps he knew of the founders through his study of Timewind.

Once again, the bear spoke softly, padding toward me. "Did he sell this to you?"

"I wouldn't have thought it was his to sell."

"It isn't. It belongs to Timewind. He was the Defender of Albion, a title he created for himself. We all agreed that it was fitting." He drew a deep breath, still calm, not at all intimidating. "How do you come by it?"

"There's no easy way to say it. Thomas Glover is dead."

The information sank in, painfully. At last, he nodded. "Who are you, then? Why have you come?"

"I'm a homicide detective from the city. My bosses were convinced that it was homicide staged as a suicide, but forensics proved otherwise. I wanted to know why he did it. I found you by digging into his past." I looked down. "One thing wasn't a lie: I came looking for answers."

"Have you found them, Max?"

"Some of them."

"Do you accuse us of something?"

"No." I looked back into the bear's eyes. "I have felt his ghost, Oaknail. I have felt a sense of the thing that made him do it. I think it wants me to do the same." I reoriented the blade and held it out to him. "I ask for your help. For answers."

Oaknail took the sword from me gently, looking into my eyes. "Let's get your car towed up to the garage. If we have answers, you're welcome to them."

Darkstar put a forepaw to my shoulder. "Yes, Max. Welcome."

Setting about readying the car for more ordinary towing, Frank said nothing.