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As the three of us moved toward the front door, I took long, lingering looks at the bunkhouse, wondering, dreaming, thinking of what it might have been like, perhaps even wondering what it might be like now. The main house seemed palatial by comparison; was it better? I paused near the door, taking in the size of this place, its limitations along with its sense of closeness. I noticed for the first time that a ladder had been constructed near the door, leading to a loft, like an oversized bunk bed, where one might curl up with a good book or a friend who's read one.

"Max?" Lightwing moved quietly to my side. "Anything wrong?"

"I think I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. This place..." I shook my head gently. "You know the expression, 'If these walls could talk'? Maybe they can, or maybe it's just my own sense of..." Whatever the word was, it wasn't making itself known.

"What is it that you imagine, Max?" Unicorn had also come back for me, and his voice and manner was soft, caring.

"That winter that you described. That's part of it, anyway. Imagining this space being the entire world for four young dreamers who had committed themselves to making those dreams happen, and those days and nights in summer, where everything began to grow, literally and figuratively. It's all so very..." Slowly, a word rose in my throat, along with what could have been a sob. "...connected."

The stallion had placed a forepaw to my shoulder, gently, but he said nothing, giving me time to breathe, no demands on me.

Until his stomach rumbled.

All three of us laughed, me loudest of all. He tried to apologize through his chuckling, but I waved him off. "Greetings from the Department of the Interior," I quipped, wiping away a tear from the sheer perfection of the moment.

"Are you okay, Max?"

"We can talk while we lunch," I said. "And yes, I think I'm okay."

"I think you're doing just fine." Lightwing smiled at me and again took my arm, leading me outside. Unicorn closed the door to the bunkhouse, and I took another moment to appreciate the air. The stallion smiled at me.

"You look like someone who hasn't breathed before."

"Maybe I just haven't appreciated it. It's always nice, in a forested area. That whole thing about trees making oxygen. I have a second-grader's understanding of it, but I've always felt that there's better air in the country."

"The rain helped, too. Everything's freshened today."

He offered a smile that included Lightwing, and I felt myself starting to blush again. That was all on me. The look was not leering, not suggestive, just happy, companionable. There was another emotion there as well, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. In truth, there were any number of emotions roiling in me in those moments, and I didn't know how to handle them all, what to think of them all. I didn't feel overwhelmed, exactly, but... was "whelmed" a word? Maybe I wasn't overly-whelmed, just sort of whelmed? It was a question for Darkstar, if I could remember to ask it.

Frank had apparently left the garage while we were in the bunkhouse. I had thought that we might invite him to join us for lunch. I told Unicorn about the mountain lion's help in getting my car cared for after its time in the water, and about my attempts at détente. The stallion nodded at my description of the feline as "passionate."

"It's his strength and his curse, I think." Unicorn had slowed his pace a bit for me, as his long legs could outwalk me at any distance. "I've gotten to know him during his time here with Dreamweaver. She met him sometime last year, in the spring, I think, and he came to meet us at our Thanksgiving dinner. He was nervous, somewhere between the 'meeting the family' and 'date for the event' kind of thing." The horse smiled, again with fondness more than anything else. "The kit was worried what we'd think of him staying the night with Dreamweaver, and he was surprised at our being so accepting. We seem to be winning him over, bit by bit.

"His reaction to you being a police detective is not surprising. He's had his share of being hassled, and he even once was falsely arrested, which has caused him no end of problems. Because of that incident, he has a record, technically speaking, even though everything was dropped."

Another head-shake from me. "Computers are lightning fast; the people who use them aren't always so quick, or thorough. Any record, even a false one, is seen as leverage, something to be kept back and used if they need information. I've seen it happen too many times."

My moments of quiet caused Lightwing to say, "You're not like that, Max."

"I hope I'm not," I said. "I can see why Frank is still angry. Job applications, loans, insurance, housing... any blip on capitalist radar can shut you out from the start." I glanced at Unicorn. "Anything you can do?"

"Any member of the bar can make enquiries on behalf of a client, and the titles look good on a letterhead. So far, the letters seem to fall on deaf ears. Forgive me if I sound bitter: It's something Thomas would have had better luck with, when he was still a public defender. He would be known in the courts and official offices, including police departments. I'm more of an outsider, with no particular reputation in those circles."

I looked to him, then Nightwing, then simply nodded. For once, I didn't feel that I had to state the obvious.

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

Back at the house, I made the late discovery that there were no clocks that I could see in the common areas. My stomach told me that it was half-past hungry, but I had no idea what time it was. The notion disturbed me. The world is run by clocks, for everyone to be on the same schedule, for jobs, for meetings, for everything. Even the Artisanry had posted hours, somewhere, and there had to be some way of keeping track of when to be there, when to close. No one wore watches, not that I'd noticed. Did Timewind not keep time?

The three of us had trooped into the kitchen, at this point, and I noticed the most universal clock of modern times. The readout on the microwave oven read 1:27, which certainly explained why I was so hungry. I had spent more time talking, back at the bunkhouse, than I had realized.

Lightwing waved her arms around the space. "Who wants what? Max, I can suggest anything from soup and sandwich to convenience foods nuked to your preference."

"I don't mean to be greedy, but is there any of Rainmist's stew left?"

Unicorn turned wide eyes to me and the Husky. "Rainmist made stew?"

Chuckling, Lightwing moved toward the refrigerator. "I think we have a winner!"

We kept the conversation light as Lightwing prepared a generous amount of the stew in a pot and Unicorn fetched bowls and spoons. With a little guidance, I found glasses for us, and all elected for water, to keep things simple. In little time, we took our steaming repast back into the dining hall, a space that once again felt warm to me. Perhaps it was the stew, linking me back to the camaraderie of the night before, or simply that I had gotten past the morning's revelations and yet was still welcomed by the tribe. The sensation continued to feel new to me -- welcomed, accepted, even wanted. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way, and it was strangely intoxicating.

I wondered (this time, with an inner smile) if Lightwing had doctored the tea after all.

By the time we'd transferred the contents of the bowls safely to our bellies, I pondered what we might do with the rest of the day, discovering that I didn't much care, as long as I could continue sharing this wonderful company.

"Isn't there a word for that feeling of being sleepy after a good meal?" I asked.

"I'm sure Darkstar could tell you," Unicorn chuckled softly. "He is quite the word maven. I'm sure that lawyers are considered word-stretchers, but I do try not to make my words contort themselves too much."

"You are as rare as your horn, good sir."

Our laughter was joined by one more, as I noticed Heartsinger had come into the room. The tall Borzhvolk seemed to tower over us, from our sitting positions yet, as before, he remained a gentle and comforting presence. It would be cliché to equate his white fur with depictions of angels in white robes, but I did have that fleeting comparison cross my mind.

"Have you had lunch?" Lightwing asked, with a smile. "We just might have some stew left."

"I've had something light," he replied, the faint hint of a blush showing at the tops of his cheeks. "I ate a good bit of my own cooking this morning."

"And why shouldn't you?" the stallion asked, grinning. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"The perils of leaving home," the Husky chuckled as she rose from her seat. "I don't think these dishes will wash themselves."

"Let me help," I offered, gathering the various paraphernalia into stacks. "Many paws, after all."

"Actually..." Heartsinger paused, the blush increasing beyond the level of mere hint. "Max, may I talk with you?"

Unicorn rose and nodded. "Lightwing and I can take care of these. You two go ahead."

I stood, looking into the wolf's golden eyes, feeling again that sense of welcome, of openness, and of that desire I first felt from him in the barn last night, to bypass the trivial and talk of things that are important, between friends. I still mistrusted the word "intimacy," because that only means sex, right? The dictionary and my experience were probably at odds with each other. I hesitated just long enough that I had the clear sense of Heartsinger's eyes begging me. I had no idea what could have caused the intensity of emotion that I sensed, but the message wasn't lost. I pulled up a smile from somewhere, finding it as sincere as the words I spoke.

"I'd like that."

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

Out through the front doors, the white wolf led me around the side of the house again, toward the barn. I had first thought that he might be taking me to meet some of the non-sapient horses that he took such good care of; it would be familiar territory for him, physically and emotionally, which might make it easier for him to talk. However, we veered away from it, down a rough-hewn path through the trees and into the deep quiet of the forest. Not paved (that, I felt, would be a sacrilege to this beautiful land), the path bore the marks of many hindpaws, and the edges along the way appeared to have been carefully cleared and tended. It was a delicate sort of surgery, creating a space where one could pad through single-file without feeling cramped or lost. The local wildlife would not have been greatly disturbed. The word cooperation floated gently in my head as I followed Heartsinger through the trees in silence.

Lightwing's instructions from this morning returned to me, this time with gentle amusement. Birdsong was prevalent here too, along with the occasional rustlings in the distant wood. Feral squirrels, foxes, deer, and other beings did not seem to mind sharing their space with the inhabitants of Starhold. From what I could estimate, some huge amount of the land was still unaffected by change or development. Now, _sanctuary_came to mind, and not just for the wildlife.

The path ended in a small space cleared mostly by the creek that ran through the property and partially by more of the careful clearing like that I'd already seen. It was unlikely that the logs I saw nearby had fallen there naturally, especially not with such neatly sawn edges. The effect was to make these natural benches for two-legged beasties like ourselves as unobtrusive to the setting as possible. Heartsinger stopped and turned toward me, his arms at his side, the look in his golden eyes still warm, yet now the warmth was tinged with pain.

My experience was telling me to say something, perhaps about the beauty of this place, or even something like, So, what did you want to talk about? The old formulas didn't work, the usual ways of interacting didn't feel right. I waited.

"Max," the Borzhvolk's voice a shaky imitation of itself, "may I hug you?"

Spreading my arms, I replied, "I think you need to."

He was too graceful for me to say that he collided into me, yet he had himself pressed up against me so rapidly that I felt no intervening time at all. He rested his chin on my shoulder, holding me close, and I wrapped my arms around him and held him as tightly as he held me. Parts of my mind tried to bring up the fear of catching the gay, even as other parts tried to insist that I didn't even know if he were gay, and yet more parts insisting that I shouldn't take the chance. All were pushed aside when I heard the soft sobbing in my ear, felt the hitching in his chest. I felt something from him, like a wave of emotion, wondering how that was even possible. How could I feel someone else's emotions? What was going on?

A memory of Lightwing, of her letting me cry last night, stilled all other thoughts, and I let myself just hold him, waiting until he was ready to talk.

It didn't take long, perhaps a minute or so, no more. I just held him, waiting patiently, occasionally petting the thick ruff of his headfur, feeling fraternal, or paternal, or something that let me feel "properly" connected to him. I was still unsure about all this, but I did feel sure that he needed to cry, for whatever reason, and he had chosen me to help him. He regained his breathing and pulled a little distance away from me, his tear-filled eyes looking at me. For a moment, I had the feeling that he wanted to kiss me, and I tensed a bit. The slightest smile appeared on his muzzle as he shook his head gently. He lowered his forehead down to rest it upon my chest, just below the shoulder. I reached up to pet the back of his neck, wondering if I had hurt him.

When he raised his head, he looked at me again, his eyes more clear, his smile the very smallest bit larger. "Come sit with me," he said indicating one of the logs.

Straddling it, we faced each other, and he reached out a forepaw to me. I took it, and he squeezed mine gently. "I'm sorry, Max."

"For crying?"

"For your pain."

I felt my eyebrows try to take residence in my headfur. "What..." I began. Another squeeze from his forepaw stopped me.

"Stellamara came to see me, a few hours ago. She is far more sensitive than I am, but I share with her a milder version of her gift. We find comfort with each other, sharing our fur sometimes, just to take moments of quiet with someone who can sense these things." His laugh was shy, a little self-deprecating. "I'm not sure if I'm being clear. I only mean to say that she and I sometimes communicate with emotions more than words, and we can still understand each other. It's its own language, in a way.

"The point is that we both felt how much it hurt you, to tell us everything this morning. Stellamara saw how it affected me, and she told me to come find you, to talk to you, to ask if I could help you." Again, the shy smile. "The Manifesto strikes again."

It was my turn to chuckle. "It does keep coming back to that. Maybe that's a good thing." I returned the squeeze of his forepaw, hesitating, avoiding. Looking around, I brought out the words that would give me just a little more time. "It's beautiful here."

"One of my favorite places on the whole property. The trees, the space, the sound of the creek. It's why I wanted to share it with you, Max. The flow of the creek helps to quiet the mind and open up the the heart. It's cleansing. Reminds me to go with the flow." The Borzhvolk's chuckle even sounded like the creek. "I'm trying too hard, aren't I?"

I laughed softly, giving his forepaw a little shake with my own. "I probably need it. I'm still learning, Heartsinger, and I'm not sure what to do. You've said something huge: You were crying because of my pain. Do you mean that I have hurt you? I certainly didn't mean to..."

He shook his head quickly. "No. It means that I felt your pain. I felt how much it's hurt you -- finding Airdancer, finding us, finding how much the darkness has been affecting you. Through all of this, you have come to us with only the best of intentions, the best of yourself that you could offer us. You told us that you were fighting that darkness." He paused, looking deep into my eyes. "I share that emotion with you."

My understanding did not come from my brain, but from my gut. "Would you tell me?" When he hesitated, I said, "If it will help you... tell me."

Gently, he released my forepaw and hunched over, as if protecting himself. "I am never quite sure how or where to begin with a story like this. In my 34 years, I've gone through a lot. To me, of course, all of it is important, relevant. Trying to get to the points that will help you understand what I think we share, that's difficult to summarize. Darkstar is better with words, and he..."

The wolf nodded then. "He's where to start. We found each other about ten years ago, and it didn't take me long to realize that Timewind would... I hate to say 'save me,' because that sounds so melodramatic. It's also more true than not." He offered a self-deprecating little snort. "Okay. I'll tell it, and you decide.

"My journey here began with meeting Darkstar at a small independent coffee house not all that far from here. We had seen each other there several times, each of us usually with his muzzle in a book. He asked me what I was reading, explained that it was because he was a writer, and conversation started. We started making actual coffee dates, and our friendship grew from there. He learned about my work in ceramics, and he asked to see it. I took him to a small shop where I had several pieces on display, and he began to speak of the Artisanry. At that time, Timewind had a shop space in town, open for short bursts during the week, longer on weekends. I'd seen the shop, but I'd thought that it was only for members of Timewind, so I didn't ask to put my work there."

"And Darkstar told you differently?"

"Yes. He introduced me to Rainmist and Oaknail, who often ran the store on weekends. A few others of the tribe were there. I could give you names; they no longer live in the area, but they are still with us in spirit, and there are always reunions... Anyway, Darkstar and I grew close, and I began to trust him. He let me be open with him, tell him things that had been bottled up for so long..." The Borzhvolk looked down for a moment before raising his eyes to me again. "I need to tell you this too, Max, if you'll let me."

Feeling the heavy burden of his words, I felt too choked up to speak, so I simply nodded.

"I've been raped, Max. Twice. One of those was by someone who had used the Question and Response with me. I have also been suicidal, with only one attempt in my checkered past." He looked at me, his eyes revealing everything. "I know those ghosts that brought you here. Stellamara saw them clearly; I only knew about them because she told us all that they were there. When she and I talked, a few hours ago... We held each other and let the emotions flow between us, because she knew of the ghosts I've had to fight, the ones that still try to haunt me from time to time. It's why she suggested I find you and talk with you.

"Darkstar was the first sapient being that I came to trust enough to hold again. He honored the Question and Response with me, gave me someone to help me ground myself. He held me, let me talk, let me cry, and he began telling me more about the tribe. It sounded nearly impossible that such people could exist, much less that they could welcome an unknown artist into their shop and a broken pup into their hearts." He smiled wanly. "I can say that, because it was true of me then."

"And you've come so far," I said, "or so it seems to me." A thought occurred to me, the way he had phrased something, and the memory of him with Clipper, last night and in that painting in the Artisanry. "Sapient beings. You trusted non-sapient beings, but not those on two legs."

Heartsinger nodded, smiling. "I've always felt comfortable with non-sapients, or most of them anyway. It felt easier for me to relate to them than to sapients. I was smart enough to learn about them in books as well as in the fur. I don't think I could be a doctor, but I'm good at reading various signs and mannerisms of non-sapients."

"Especially horses."

His smile broke into a small laugh. "Yes. That was something else that Timewind gave to me. Darkstar had invited me here for a weekend, to show me everything. The Artisanry, here on the property was still being planned out. The barn and stables were here, although only three horses, at that time. I'd not had a chance to meet non-sapient horses, and the experience was amazing. I wanted to stay and never go back home. I did go back home, of course. I also read up on grooming, maintenance, taking care of non-sapient horses, then asked Darkstar if he would teach me more. He said that I would be taught by the best."

Laughter threatened to bubble out of me, as the obvious answer came to mind.

Heartsinger nodded, grinning. "Takes one to know one."

I practically fell over laughing, and the wolf caught my shoulders and laughed with me. When I finally got my breath back, I clasped his arms as best I could, given that his reach was longer than mine. "You came back, to learn, to share, to stay. I'd say that was a good choice, for you and for the tribe."

"Yes," he said simply. He squeezed my shoulders gently. "Max, I'm not trying to sell you on the idea of being part of the tribe. I'm telling you that think I understand your ghosts, your demons, whatever you want to call them. I've had my own, and they almost won. Timewind did save me, if only by showing to me that there are still good fursons in the world, that there is still a dream, and that they are family to me, helping me Become, just as I'm helping them."

He slid his forepaws down my arms, ending with clasping my forepaws gently. His eyes still held mine, and I found myself saying, "That explains something to me."

"Which is?"

"Last night, in the barn." I took a breath and continued. "I had this feeling that you really wanted to talk, to get past the so-called polite conversation and really connect, communicate."

On his cheeks, that sense of blush showed yet again as he said, "Yeah, I'm not very subtle. I think that's what happened to me, all those years ago. I think I was too... emotional? Not quite what I mean. I kept my emotions very near the surface, always very open, no shields or pretenses. Maybe some others thought that I was trying to be sexual, but that wasn't on my mind."

"Heartsinger, I want to ask something; tell me if I'm putting my nose where it doesn't belong."

"You probably won't," he smiled at me, "but thank you for caring."

Another few seconds of hesitation, and I finally found my voice. "I think I understand better, from your descriptions, the difference between sex and intimacy. I'd like to think that we furs had grown past all that nonsense, but it's still with us, or maybe just me. I just mean to say... to ask you... you're more interested in intimacy than sex, aren't you?"

Nodding, he added, "Not that I don't enjoy being sexual, but I do so much enjoy the conversation, the cuddle, the sharing of fur and warmth and feelings and words." He shook our clasped forepaws gently. "Thank you for letting me touch you so much. I think that you may not be used to it, and I realize that I can be overwhelming."

"In my opinion, Heartsinger, it's the world that is lacking." I gave a rueful snort. "I need to ask Darkstar if 'whelmed' is a word, so that I can say that I'm not overly whelmed, just whelmed. All this is a lot for me to take in. I can tell you one important thing." I gave his paws a squeeze, tried to open my feelings, to open my eyes to his and let him in. "You have told me something very important, very deep, and I thank you for helping me see... me, I guess. I don't know that I'd ever really try to kill myself, unless..."

The pause was significant, and the Borzhvolk let me work it out on my own. I had the sense that he knew what I wanted to say; there was pain in his eyes, but the source of that pain was within me. Was that the answer? I didn't want to keep hurting him because of the hurt inside me. To help him not hurt, I had to find out how not to hurt, to tell him, to ask his help, to take that step toward Becoming. After all this long journey, is it so hard to take one more step?

Around us, the day lay cool, the creek trickled and chuckled softly, the sounds of birds, perhaps something in the undergrowth moving somewhere just beyond. What I saw most was him, this passionate wolf who waited, open, caring, making a safe space for me, holding my paws to help me know that it would be okay to take one more step.

I felt my jaw move, my lips, tongue, breath moving, and I took the step.

"...unless I already have."