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I woke slowly to a sweet, soft, hazy quiet. Sunday mornings have a particular quietness about them. Unless I'm on a case that can't wait (not many of those, contrary to television cop shows), my alarm is off, no church to go to, no friends for brunch. I usually just wake when I wake, do whatever the day might require of me, and try not to think too much until Monday rears its ugly head once more. The usual pattern for an old dog trapped in a life he no longer truly recognizes.

This Sunday morning was different in so many ways. Country quiet, large room, soft pillows and comforter, big warm bed, warmer companion who still dozed beside me. My nose was pleasantly overloaded with scents that brought back intensely beautiful memories, and my mind swam through a private lagoon of recalled sensation, only some of it physical. What I remembered most were words, sounds, emotions, a merging that was enhanced through the physicality. I wasn't so maudlin as to think I'd never experienced it before; the truth was that I'd never paid this much attention before.

Beside me, a shifting, a gentle stirring. I smiled, waiting to see if she might be still asleep or if she might be waking. We had not fallen asleep in each other's arms; as romantic as that sounds, it all too often led to someone getting the circulation cramped in one or more limbs. Lightwing and I had fallen asleep on our backs, close enough to be near without infringing on each other's personal sleeping space. It was a companionable arrangement that had allowed us both to sleep... after we had exhausted ourselves, quite blissfully, somewhere in the wee hours of the morning.

Taking the chance, I moved my arm a little, finding her forepaw with mine, touching gently. She moved her fingers, interlacing them with mine, making a soft murring sigh. She turned her muzzle toward me, her eyes lazily half-lidded. "G'morning," she whispered gently.

"Very good," I agreed, giving her muzzle a gentle kiss.

Smiling, the Husky rolled onto her side, half-covering me, an arm across my chest, a leg over mine. I arranged the pillow under her head, my arm under the pillow to hold her, my other forepaw reaching up to touch hers, my tongue giving slow little licks to her muzzle as she offered soft whines and whimpers of love and appreciation at me. We eventually returned to the sweetness of just holding each other, saying nothing for a long moment.

"Is it cliché," I asked softly, "to ask how you're feeling?"

"Maybe," she smiled, "if it's just you doing what's expected. If you really want to know, it means that you care about me. It means you're listening."

"It means I care. It means I'm still feeling our connection from last night, and I want to know how you feel."

She provided a sweetly chaste kiss to my lips, and her smile grew wider. "I'm feeling warm, connected, and very well-loved, thank you for asking."

"Good answer," I grinned. My hesitation didn't go unnoticed by either of us; it didn't last long. "I'm feeling that I never want this moment to end. I'm pretty sure I'm welcome to come back..."

That earned me something like a raspberry, followed by a growl and some particularly sharp-looking fangs headed toward my laughing muzzle. She mock-snapped her jaws, then said, "You'd damned-well better come back, you mangey cur!"

I held her close, laughing a little more before the sound became something more like a sob. She pulled away from me, a concerned look in her eyes, and I shook my head. "Lots of emotions, Lightwing. I really don't want to leave Starhold, much less this bed. I know that you want me to come back, and I imagine that the others will, too."

"Fair assumption," she smiled at me.

"I don't want to put that suit on again. I don't want to be that dog again."

Lightwing took my head into her forepaws, made me look at her closely. "You won't be. Not ever again. I have an idea, how to prove it to you, but it will have to happen later. How can I help in the meantime?"

"Keep on believing." I cupped her forepaws with my own, looked into her eyes. "I'll get there, eventually. Or I'll keep on working at it, like an addict in recovery. Hey, only three steps instead of twelve? It's a bargain!"

We both chuckled, then I sobered again.

"Not politically correct, I suppose."

"Your audience understands. There might even be some in recovery who would appreciate it. You didn't say it to be mean."

"That's what Heartsinger said," I realized aloud. "I had asked about his breed, mentioning Russian wolfhound. I was afraid it might be considered offensive or insensitive or something, and he just asked if I meant it to be."

She nodded, gracing my lips with a quick kiss before giving me back my head. "You didn't, and you understood each other. That's called 'communication'."

"Is that what it's called?" I smiled at her. "I'll bear that in mind."

Giving my nose a playful tap, she said, "Are you up for breakfast?"

Realizing the mistake in her phrasing, she joined me in a laugh. "Do you think we missed breakfast this morning?" I asked.

"Hey, I'm a half-decent cook, on a small scale. No need to worry."

"We might want to shower first."

"Good idea."

"You want to go first?"

She blinked at me. "Oh, you meant separately?"

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

By the time that we emerged from the guest room, freshly showered and suitably clothed (these cotton garments wore beautifully), it was well past any usual time for breakfast yet far enough away from lunch as to merit some sort of stop-gap. We had the kitchen nook to ourselves as Lightwing introduced me to a stout Earl Gray (the company that made this hardy variety called it "Earl Grayer"). The tea was made famous by a certain starship captain, and my Husky hostess used steamed milk and vanilla to make it into something called a London Fog. It was an interesting brew with an aroma that, I admitted with a blush, reminded me of her. She combined this enticing brew with some hearty, thick-cut oat bread slices, perfectly toasted, with butter and blueberry jelly, all made here at Starhold.

"Just so you know," the Husky told me, "we don't have a full processing system for milk cows. Only two of ours produce milk, and a bearcat from a nearby farm brings a portable system each morning and evening. He processes the milk, and we get some of that back for our own use."

"That still must be a lot of milk...?"

"We don't take it all; anything more than what we really need, we donate to the shelter, food bank, whoever might need it."

I nodded and, with a smile, raised my mug to her. "The MOOR at work, with a win-win for all sides, from what I can see."

She blushed cutely under her dark mask. "Just a question of acknowledging that there are other fursons in the world."

"Just that?"

"Probably a lot more than that, although that's where to start." The Husky sipped a bit of her Fog, then said, "Did you ever see a shopping cart corral, at a grocery store parking lot, and there are maybe five or six carts shoved in at every which angle, so that there's almost nowhere to put your own cart?"

My soft groaning affirmed my agreement. "I try to tell myself that at least they didn't just leave the carts in the middle of the parking spaces, but it still ticks me off. If the carts are lined up and nested properly, the corral could hold maybe 30 or 40 carts."

"And it would be very little effort on each furson's part, not to mention a small help to the poor fur who has to gather them up and haul the bunch of them back inside. It's one of those small things that will help everyone in small ways. It's a little like the 'pay it forward' idea -- a kindness that is given to someone you probably won't even meet."

Considering a moment, I offered, "That would be part of the third step, then. Part of giving yourself to the world would be to acknowledge that there's a world to give yourself to."

Lightwing chuckled. "Not everything grows out of the three steps."

"Maybe not... but that's where to start."

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

We had been chatting idly for several minutes, when Unicorn entered the kitchen with a large smile on his muzzle. "Just the furson I was looking for," he said to me. "I have a surprise for you."

The stallion waved both of us toward himself, glancing at his watch. As I rose, I asked him, "What's happening?"

"Just a little impromptu meeting I've managed to get together. Come along now." He spoke with the unassailable attitude of a kindergarten teacher, and I resisted a pup-like urge to ask if it was time for recess on the playground.

Lightwing delayed matters long enough for us to put our plates and cups through a rinse, put away the butter and jelly, and generally clean up after ourselves. After our conversation, we weren't about to leave our shipping carts in the parking lot. Unicorn made a happily exaggerated show of impatience at our "shillyshallying" (a term I hadn't heard in years, which made it all the more fun), until we finally left the kitchen and went back down the length of ground floor hall, to the conference room I'd been in perhaps 24 hours prior.

The palomino sensed my discomfort. "It's a good surprise, I promise. A few more tribal members I'd like for you to meet."

"We won't bite," a playful male voice on the conference phone speaker promised. "At least not today."

"Riverrunner, hush," a rich alto voice admonished gently. "Let's at least introduce ourselves first."

Closing the door quietly behind us, Unicorn explained, "I called each of them yesterday, told them the story; you don't have to go through that again. I managed to get them to call in now, so that you could meet them. Max, meet Riverrunner, Quicksilver, and Phoenix."

"Founders." My voice sounded the slightest bit awestruck to my ears.

"We want to meet you in the fur-and-and bone, one fine day," added another male voice. "Until then, we want to thank you for bringing the news in furson."

"I get the feeling that it's been a very difficult journey for you," the female offered softly. "Unicorn has been discreet, don't worry. He's only said that... finding Airdancer brought up a lot of emotions in you, and that you've been asking for help from us."

"He's right; I have." I grinned. "I did, however, hear that certain winter furpiles in the Bunkhouse were juuuuuuust right."

The laughter rang freely between us, particularly from Phoenix, who declared that I was in danger of being quite thoroughly hugged at the soonest opportunity. We all passed a great half hour or so, as I got to tell Quicksilver how I still felt her spirit in her clothing design, to hear how Riverrunner was a very successful architect who had designed everything from the Bunkhouse to the palatial home of Timewind itself, and to learn how Phoenix had gone from planning and laying out the first few hundred square meters of garden to degrees in agriculture and land management. All three were still tied closely to their tribal roots, despite not living on the grounds. They "tithed" actively, and I was discreet enough not to ask for any numbers. Any percentage of income from the talents that these three commanded would be substantial. Sunrider would invest it well, and Lightwing would help find projects and fund grants in her position as MOOR. The next general gathering of the tribe was to be in late June, and I was instructed quite sternly to be in attendance. My Husky (if she wouldn't mind my calling her that) assured everyone, including me, that she would enforce the attendance by any means necessary. The benefit of the voice-only connection was that only she and Unicorn saw me blush.

Less than a minute after the call had ended, a polite knock at the door turned out to be Darkstar informing us that lunch was ready, if we were. It seemed that the lunchtime "catch as catch can" rule had been suspended in my honor. The Artisanry was open, and Heartsinger, Oray, and Rainmist were taking their turns at holding down that particular fort; the remaining ten of us made sandwiches from a fine array of meats and trimmings and gathered at the tables for more conversation. Oaknail and Moonsong, in particular, were amused by my descriptions of the call.

"I didn't get to hear from... I'm sorry, I can't recall the name from yesterday's call? Another founder..."

"Stormsinger," Unicorn supplied.

"Yes, thank you. I hope to get a chance to talk with her more, to learn still more of the tribe's origins."

"We'll make sure you have a copy of the Manifesto to take with you," Darkstar offered. "That will help tell more of the stories."

"That would be wonderful. I feel honored that I've met all of the founders now."

It took me a moment to realize just how badly I'd stepped in it. I started to apologize, but Oaknail put a forepaw to my shoulder.

"We know what you meant," he said softly. "There is also some truth to the idea that Airdancer introduced you to us."

After a pause, I said, "Then I owe him a debt of gratitude."

"We all do," Moonsong added. "I think we're all very glad to have met you."

Unicorn's Hear! Hear! was the loudest of the affirmations around the tables, but it was far from the only one. With the soft patters of applause settling around me, I felt myself blushing.

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

Lunch included more camaraderie and conversation, reminding me of that song with "another Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat." After a long a happy time of this, there came a moment of restlessness that surprised me, until I realized that it was more from me than my hosts. It didn't take long for me to figure it out, and I voiced it ahead of the rest of them.

"It's probably about time for me to get back to my house." I looked around at the sympathetic faces in the dining hall. "It may sound silly of me to say that I'm not exactly anxious to leave."

"May I be a little unsubtle, Max?" Lightwing asked.

"You? Unsubtle? Never!"

Everyone chuckled, the Husky most of all. "Maybe it's not so much that you want to leave as you don't want to go back to being Detective Luton."

"Kinda obvious," I admitted. I don't think that I physically shrank, but it felt like it. "Makes me want to burn that jacket."

"Waste of a good jacket," Darkstar observed.

"You will always be welcome here, Max," Lightwing promised.

"And you don't have to put the armor back on," the lynx added. "That's the part that's in your mind. I'm not saying that'll be easy. I am saying that it's doable."

I nodded, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. "I'll probably be asking you for a lot of help."

"You'll have it," Oaknail confirmed, then looked around the tables. "You have helped us already, in many ways. I think you can call on any of us."

Murmurs, confirmations, nods, invitations to return anytime, to telephone anytime. As I rose from the table, everyone followed suit. "I guess I'd better get ready to go. I'll drive back, arrive before sunset, get myself ready to face Monday." I grinned at Darkstar. "Gonna invite me up to your room?"

The lynx laughed. "Are you inviting me to get you out of my clothes?"

Several double entendre comments and _bow-chikka-wow-wow_noises took the hurt out of my impending departure.

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

As expected, Darkstar was the perfect gentlefur, once more giving me the privacy of the bedroom section of his room as I took off his clothes and put on mine. I had been right: They felt foreign to me. They were clean, and the jacket was in fine shape. I put away the wallet, change, pen, notebook, phone (the rice appeared to have worked), and the shield into their proper pockets. The shield felt heaviest, familiar in a horrible sort of way, like a weight that I had been carrying for too long, been free of for a while, now returned. I wondered briefly if a probationer's ankle bracelet felt like this, physically, psychologically, or both.

I bodily steeled myself for my reappearance around the partition. Darkstar's expression was no different than it had been before. I realized that, in some way, I was disappointed by that. After all, I was dressed like the enemy again.

"Everything looks clean enough. How does it feel?"

My hesitation told him more than I wanted to express out loud.

Without a word, he padded close and embraced me. I put my arms around him as well, the shape of him familiar from other hugs, save for the sensation of this button-down shirt and jacket being like a barrier between us. He held me for a very long moment, then moved his muzzle to whisper into my ear.

"Tell me your middle name, if you have one."

"John. Well... Johnathan."

"Maxwell Johnathan Luton. One of the finest males I've met. I'm glad to know you."

I gave him a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for helping me to become my best self."

"Anytime."

We separated slowly, looked each other in the eyes, and smiled. "Still not ready for a kiss," I quipped.

"Give it time."

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

We were met at Darkstar's door by Lightwing, who asked me to accompany her a few doors down. Her name, in the form of a lovely wood rendering by Firecat, adorned the door that stood ajar. "I wanted to speak with you for a moment, in my capacity as the MOOR."

Her room was the same general size as the lynx's, differently furnished and differently divided. Each room, I realized, would have a great capacity for individualization as the occupant took it from empty space to living space. This room would give me a great many insights into the Husky's mind and heart, if I were allowed time and leave to explore it. As it was, I simply had the unshakable feeling that this was, indeed, her room. It felt like her.

"And how may I serve the Minister Of Outworld Relations?"

She didn't let her grin run away with her, but it was a near thing. "I think I spoke to you about our assistance with the county library?" After I nodded, she continued. "I wish to recruit you for some shelf-building and other general maintenance work on that project. We're going to be starting our prep work this next weekend, in fact. Feel like visiting and putting in some work with the tribe?"

"I'm hearing something about whitewashing a fence." I smiled at her and said, "That includes room and board, I take it?"

"Absolutely."

"May I have the guest room again?"

"No."

I blinked.

"You'd stay here." She looked into my eyes and spoke softly. "Remember that I told you I had a way of proving to you that you're still Max?"

"Yes."

She reached up to pull my head gently to hers, providing a particularly passionate kiss that brought back a great many memories from the previous night. When she broke the kiss, my toes finally stopped curling, and I began to get my breath back. The smile on her lips, in her eyes, in the sound of her voice, told me what her words confirmed.

"Still Max. Without a doubt."

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

Each of the tribe who were in the house managed to take me aside for a moment, for a hug, for some kind words, even some cell phone numbers written on cards. I was reminded that I must stop by the Artisanry on my way out, or the three who were working there would have to track me down separately and hug me where I stood. I wondered how any of that could remotely be considered a threat, but I also was smart enough not to chance it.

They gathered as a group at the front of the house to bid me a final farewell. Oaknail took my forepaws into his and spoke warmly. "There is an old pagan saying: 'Merry meet, merry part, merry meet again.' We come together in joy, and we part in joy, not in sadness, because we will meet again." He leaned a little closer, and his grip became a little tighter. "The tribal Chieftain insists upon it."

"No Brando imitations," I chuckled. "And I don't have any sunglasses, so I won't do any imitations when I say 'I'll be back'."

Frank had brought my car around, and I spoke softly to him as he handed me the keys.

"First of all, thank you for your work in cleaning out the mess."

"Glad to help. And by the way, I think you're about due for an oil change and tune up." He grinned at me. "I'll give you the tribal discount."

I chuckled softly with him, then sobered gently. "Frank, I hope I'm not telling tales out of school. Unicorn told me about the issues with getting your record cleared."

The look on the mountain lion's face darkened, more with sadness than anger. I placed a forepaw to his shoulder.

"I'm not exactly sure what I can do, but I'm actually in the cop shop. I can check records, get specifics, maybe get someone to get rid of it entirely. If I can't get that far, I'll find out what I can do and make it happen. Unicorn knows the law, and I can help him get what he needs to move forward."

His thanks started as a pawshake, and I turned it into a hug. I was getting more comfortable doing that, even in the police detective costuming. Lightwing was right: Max was still here after all.

The short drive to the Artisanry was oddly punctuated by seeing the entire group of tribal members (save three) waving at me in my rearview mirror. The mixture of emotions was profound yet not painful. The surprise, for me, was discovering that I could feel so much and so deeply. It was unlike anything that I'd felt in months, years. It was raw, powerful, real. Connected_was the word that sprang up. _Unarmored clamored for attention as well.

I parked in front of the store, alongside two other cars. I left my jacket in the back seat, partly to feel less formal, partly to enjoy the day, and partly to conceal the parcel. I didn't really imagine anyone would steal it, not out here, but I didn't want to take the chance. I guess that much of the cop, or the city-dweller, remained.

Holding the door open for a couple whose arms were filled with parcels of their own, I waited to make sure that they were okay getting to their car before going inside. Heartsinger was at the front, and he enveloped me in a warm hug as soon as I reached him at the counter. His height made it easy for him to rest his chin on my head, and I lay my cheek to his chest, enjoying the brief cuddle. Both of our tails were wagging up a small windstorm; if we'd been feline, we'd have been purring. Yesterday, about this time, I had found myself wondering if I wanted to kiss him, because of the emotional overload. Now, I realized that we were expressing our emotions just fine.

The other customers in the store were ready to pay for their goods, including one of Stellamara's paintings. They seemed a little confused at our display of affection.

"Are we intruding?" the vixen asked tentatively.

"Just saying goodbye to our visiting family member," the Borzhvolk smiled. "We don't get to see him nearly enough."

I excused myself and headed to the back of the store. Family member. Not tribal member? No, I realized. Heartsinger had given me a title of warmest affection without assuming too much too fast. Smiling to myself, I realized that the thinking was definitely tribal. I would have to think about that idea, along with a good many others that had come up over the last hour or so.

I had guessed right that Rainmist was tending the coffee bar, and that she wanted a hug of her own. I provided one with a teasing nibble at the otter's neck that caused a truly delightful chittering and a quick thapping of her tailtip against the floor.

"Flirt!" she giggled.

"Guilty as charged," I grinned at her. "Shall I arrest myself?"

"I never do handcuffs on a first date."

She caught me out, and she knew it, laughing and hugging me again. "Now you know how dangerous it is to make such jokes with me," she said.

"Worth it," I acknowledged, this time providing a chaste and very sincere kiss to her cheek.

"Hey," a young voice called in, "are you two gonna make out right here in the store?"

"You're right," I agreed. "The hayloft is better."

"Oh,hells yes!" the young firefox agreed and hugged me warmly.

While Rainmist prepared a fancy coffee for me to take with me on my trip back, she and Oray made me reiterate my promise to return soon. I noted that I had been more or less commanded by the MOOR to help build things at the library this upcoming weekend.

"Is that the only thing you're going to be erecting?" the yowen asked.

"Hush, before I box your ears, stripling!" Rainmist warned.

The red panda took a half-step backward and looked at me with a soft smile and perhaps the most earnest look in his eyes that I'd seen all weekend. "Too far, Max?"

A breath gave me time to really look at my emotions. "Okay, maybe a little. I don't what to step on your enthusiasm."

"I go a little too far, sometimes. I'm sorry."

"Starshine seems to keep a pretty good leash on you." I raised a forepaw quickly. "Don't go there!"

Oray laughed. "Okay. We'll find a balance somewhere, yes?"

"Yes." I provided him a classic Dutch rub on his head, just to prove it.

Back at the front of the shop, Heartsinger gave me a chance to set down my coffee before giving me one last hug "for the road."

"I haven't been hugged this much in all my life," I told him.

"Too much?"

"Not that long ago, I might have said so. Now..."

The Borzhvolk grinned at me. "You know you can always come back for more."

"Count on it."

Padding back out to the car, I got behind the steering wheel and debated asking the phone for directions back home. End of the drive, turn left, about ten klicks back to the edge of northeastern edge of Green Town, connect back to roads I knew well enough to get back to the house. Maybe 280 klicks all told; what took time was the back roads where the limit was maybe 70kph, or the few towns to drive through instead of around. Not something I could complain about; it's part of what gave Starhold its peace and quiet, as well as what had given them so many hectares of land for such a low price, all those years ago.

I let the phone sleep in my jacket pocket. It was a quiet Sunday mid-afternoon, with very pretty weather, and I wasn't in too much of a hurry anyway. I had a lot to think about. Things to tell Michael, when I got home, especially about that word family. Consideration of the offer that Unicorn had made to me. Turning over the comments that Oaknail had made to me. Feeling the emotions and possibilities that Lightwing had explored with me. And feeling the curious spiritual pull of the parcel under my jacket, there in the back seat.

Driving to meet Timewind, I had an Idea riding with me, something that Stellamara called a ghost or a shadow. Now, on the return trip, I had a different passenger, and the contemplation that it was causing was far brighter, which made it a much more welcome companion.