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"An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."

--Mahatma Gandhi

---

The doors of the city opened before them like the lid of a coffin revealing the rotting corpse within. Two figures waited in line, shuffling slowly one weary half-footstep at a time as they awaited their turn to present their plea for entry to the "guards". The guards who weren't guards that served at the pleasure of a magistrate who wasn't a magistrate in a city that wasn't a city. Perhaps they maintained their daily vigil in order to pretend that there was still some sort of order, some make-believe set of laws that gave the common folk a false reassurance, the illusion of safety. Willow wondered just how many law-abiding citizens were left in this ruin.

At one point, the city had been named Sailor's Rest, although these days most people called it Sailor's Piss. The new name seemed more apt, given the ever-present stench of urine surrounding the place. The city-shaped cadaver was far from safe even before "the event", but it had once been a bustling center of commerce and trade. The crowded docks were once filled with goods from around the continent and beyond--spices, oils, dried exotic fruits, salted meat from animals the likes of which simply no longer existed these days. Ownership of the city passed hands several times, sometimes peacefully, more often not. But as long as the people paid their taxes and kept the king's laws, there was no reason for them to worry about whether or not they'd end up as a dead body lying by the side of the road.

Willow had seen three dead bodies lying by the side of the road today.

The weary young woman tugged at the straps of her large backpack as she had for the majority of the day, trying to find one spot on her shoulders where the weight was less cumbersome. The pack mostly contained her tent, bedroll, and some small iron pans that hadn't been used to prepare food in quite some time. Willow felt the burden would've been more bearable if there was food inside the bag.

A gentle but insistent tug at her shoulder brought her mind from the troubles of her empty stomach. Her own glumness turned into elation, the same she felt each time the woman she loved more than her own life touched her hand. Mongrel leaned heavily on her partner, the poor wretch's every step awkward and unstable as she shifted her burden from walking stick to her mate. The half-wolf's natural gait was to crawl on all fours, but the two travelers had appearances to keep and attention to avoid. Mongrel was enveloped in a tattered gray robe, the near-lupine features of her face wrapped behind a filthy rag so that only her dark brown eyes could be seen. She kept her hands and feet covered in the sleeves and hem of the robe to cover up her long claws. Most of their fellow caravaneers they had met on their travels were willing to ignore the strange woman as soon as Willow told them her "sister" was afflicted with scaleskin. Willow hoped the tactic would work on the guards.

The guards who weren't guards. Whoever was in charge of the city had men in their employ posted at the seven gates leading past the crumbling walls. Their presence was almost assuredly less to do with keeping the peace and more to do with sizing up travelers for their own gain. They were keeping a lookout for which new arrival was likely to cause trouble for their employer. That and to scout for travelers who might have some coins in their pockets. Not even the end of the world could erase the desire men had for shiny bits of metal.

"Willow?" came a muffled whisper. The voice was exhausted, but maintained its low rumbling growl. Not even the hundreds of miles they had walked could take the harsh animalistic rumble from her voice. Willow had grown to love it.

Willow placed her hand atop her mate's. Her fingers were warm, as they always were, Mongrel's almost-fur keeping the chill at bay more than the tattered rags she wore. "It's okay," Willow answered softly. "Just let me do the talking. I've been here before, remember? We're too poor for them to give a shit."

A doglike whine was the only response. Mongrel almost lost her footing again until Willow caught her. "Lean on me."

"Always," Mongrel whispered, and Willow couldn't help but squeeze her hand.

"I love you," she whispered back. "We'll be f--"

"Oi! The fuck is wrong with your friend?"

Fuck.

Willow cleared her throat. "My sister's just got bad legs, m'lord-sir. Scaleskin. Covers 'er shins the most. We comes to see a healer. Or a priest. At your lordship's pleasure. We heard tell there's folks here that can heal those that needs it." Willow wasn't sure what accent she was using. She hoped the not-guard would hear her words and assume the pair were naive peasants looking for hope in a hopeless world. She also prayed he would know the ailment wasn't contagious.

The guard was silent for a moment. His mind was no doubt being pushed to its absolute limits in coming up with a response that would benefit his master in the most profitable way possible. "Why, yes!" he finally responded, more joyfully than was believable. "We have a healer here that's cured more scaleskin than the seas have waves. You've come to the right place, love. She'll be right as rain in a week's time."

No she won't, you worthless fuckwit. "Oh praise the gods!" Willow took Mongrel's hand, careful not to reveal her claws or thick black hairs on her knuckles. "Did you hear, sister dear? They've a healer! A healer!" Willow knew her partner wouldn't respond. They'd gone over this enough times that she knew to only give a simple yet enthusiastic nod.

"Aye, right as rain," he repeated. "And, uh ... how'll yer ladyship be payin' for the gods' own blessings?"

Fuck.

"Oh ... We've nay money, m'lord-sir." The man wanted them to admit to having a full purse. Luckily, Willow had never held a copper in the past decade, save for the two she found in a dead man's boot several years ago. "We-We've got m'father's knife." That I'll use to stab you, Willow didn't say, if you don't get out of the way. "M-Maybe we can trade that fer--"

"Ah," the man interrupted sullenly. Willow was hopeful he'd wave them through once he learned they were destitute, but he wasn't quite ready to give up exploiting them just yet. "Well, never fear, love, never fear. There's other ways a woman on the road can earn enough coin for a healer. Especially one with such pretty yellow hair." The man's smile would have been loathsome even had his teeth not been black and rotten.

Mongrel started to let loose a low growl before Willow elbowed her in the side. She hadn't been lying about the knife, though it wasn't her father's. The only knife he had ever owned was used to clean fish. Willow wasn't sure how she was going to reply, but she never got the chance.

"What's the fucking holdup?" screamed the gruff voice of a man from behind the pair. The protest was joined by the squeal of an infant held by the woman beside him. The guard was preventing the line from moving, and this was a cardinal sin. Keeping people out of the city meant keeping money out of the city. The guard glanced at his counterpart standing on the other side of the gate, likely his superior from the way he nodded a silent order. The pair were waved inside.

Immediately after crossing past the gate, Willow was assaulted by the smells of the city. Mongrel gripped her hand harder as she coughed up a wad of phlegm. "Stinks," she whispered. Willow knew that as bad as the stench was for her, it was a hundred times worse for Mongrel's canine nose.

"One foot in front of the other, dear heart."

"And loud."

Willow nodded towards a side alley. "This goes to a place I know. It's quieter and there's less dung to walk through. We can sleep above the old slaughterhouses. They've been abandoned since ..." The pair groaned as a deep throbbing pain erupted from behind their eyes. "Since the you-know. Not much use for those anymore. How are you feeling?"

"My feet hurt. And my neck. And everything in between." Mongrel was breathing hard, but despite the pain of walking like a human she tried to smile. "Not supposed to walk like a normal person. Not for this long."

"Just a little further," Willow soothed. "There's a loft where ..."

Mongrel sniffed the air and glanced behind them. She squeezed Willow's hand three times, the signal that they were being followed.

"Fuck's sake," Willow hissed. Normally she'd simply hurry along and lose any pursuers in the maze of alleys or duck into an inn or pub. Thieves were less likely to follow if they were in a place with more people. But people were exactly what they wanted to avoid. One close look at Mongrel and they'd be calling the guards and likely the headsman, ready to destroy the demon-beast that walked amongst them. Running was also out of the question with the way Mongrel was lumbering along. It wasn't that her partner wasn't fast, but she would need to drop to all fours and it wouldn't be long before they'd find themselves tied to a stake with a fire burning just below them.

"What do we do?" Her voice was a dog's whine.

Willow looked around the alley; aside from their pursuer they were alone. If the follower was hostile, they had made a terrible choice in a place to ambush them. "Lean against the wall. Breathe hard. Act like you're tired."

Mongrel fell against the wall and tried to keep from sliding down it. "Not hard to do."

"Come, sis! Father and uncle are waiting for us." She hoped by making the stranger believe people were awaiting them that he'd be less likely to bother them. Willow made like she was trying to pull her "sister" to her feet with one hand while the other slid underneath her cloak, her fingers wrapping around the cold hilt of her silver knife.

"Issh your shishter okay? Need s'm help, love?" The man was pretending to be drunk, and doing a poor job of it. Willow had been groped by enough drunk men in dirty bars to know what one sounded like.

"She's sick, m'lord-sir. Fever." Willow shifted her feet, putting her weight on the leg closest to the man should she need to spring towards him. "Please keep your distance, she got the red-waste from our mother before she passed and--"

"Fever, is it?" He smiled, revealing his mouth contained half the teeth he was born with. "Thought it was scaleskin."

Willow glanced at Mongrel, then in the direction they were walking. There was still no one else in sight. Good.

"Someone who doesn't want the guards searching them usually has a reason to not want to get searched, aye? Maybe some coin jingling in your pocket after all, aye?" The mugger's drunken slur was absent now. He took a step closer, placing his hand on the wall. "Maybe could use a bodyguard, aye? Nasty parts, these are. Let old Grib walk with ye, aye?" He was close enough now that Willow could smell his breath, the stench of rotten gums and vomit filling her nose. He placed his other hand on the wall and was now looming over the pair. "Or maybe y'wants something else, mm?" The man took the ends of Willow's blonde hair in his filthy hand, brought it to his face, and sniffed. "Do ye? Do y'wants something else, love?"

Willow smiled shyly, her eyes flitting in his direction. "Maybe I do," she whispered in what she hoped was a seductive manner

He laughed. "Aye. I think maybe ye--"

In a motion that she had far too much practice at, Willow brought the knife to the man's throat and sliced it from left to right. He staggered back, his hands now clutching the red wound as his black blood seeped through his fingers. Willow stepped aside before it could stain her robe; she didn't want to have to wash it. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled, sticking one leg out to trip him. She let the man's heavy weight drag her down with him, straddling him as he lay in the shit-strewn streets as she plunged the knife into his belly half a dozen times until he stopped making gurgling noises.

Mongrel almost screamed. "Y-Y-You ... Gods, Willow, what in the fuck did you do?" Her yellow-white claws scraped across the rough alley wall as she tried to steady herself.

Willow wiped her knife on a part of the man's shirt that wasn't bloody yet. "There's enough shit on the ground that a little more won't bother anyone." Satisfied that the knife was more or less dry, she slid it back into her belt before stepping over the body to continue on their way. Only then did she notice Mongrel's hirsute hands were shaking. "What?"

"'What?!' What do--" Frustrated at the rag covering her face, Mongrel tugged it away. Her mouth was opening and closing, her long fangs peeking at Willow from behind her black lips. "You killed him!" Mongrel almost lost her balance before Willow took her by the arm.

"I did." Willow's feelings were a little hurt when she felt her partner pull away from her. "He was going to try to rob us or rape us or kill us. He's probably done all three since sunrise."

"B-But ... Argh!" Mongrel growled in frustration as she tried to keep her balance before merely dropping into a low crouch. She shook her thick hair, twisting her head back and forth rapidly like a dog that had just escaped a bath. "You can't do that! WE can't do that! We can't just--"

"Can't what?" Willow hated that there was so much vitriol in her voice, but the two of them needed to be on the same page about this particular scenario. This would likely not be the only time they'd face a situation like this one in the coming days. "Kill people? Bad people? Did you forget why we're here?"

There was enough motion in Mongrel's hood that Willow could tell her pointy ears were drooping. "Willow, I know why we're here. I'm the one who led us here, remember? We're here to kill the bitch, not some random fucking mugger. We're not supposed to drop to her level. We're supposed to be better than that. You're supposed to be better than ..." She looked away, leaning back on her haunches, her long claws wrapping around her sleeves as she hugged herself. "We shouldn't kill anyone else unless we have to ... What are you doing?!"

"Seeing what he has on him. Had on him." Willow dug in the man's pockets, pulling out two copper pieces and a small, rusty pocket knife. "Nothing. What a surprise." She slipped the smaller knife into a pocket of her robe before standing. A look of genuine confusion came over her as she beheld the outrage in her partner's lupine face. "Gods damn it, Mongrel, it was him or us and I wasn't going to let it be us. Why are you--"

"I know, look, I know." Mongrel got to her feet, leaning against the wall to force herself to stand tall as she wrapped her face once again. "It was him or us, I know. But ... is it going to be like this the entire time we're here? Always a choice between them or us? I-I don't want us to ... This can't be our first reaction, okay? How can you be so cold about this?! We should try to come up with another way, anytime we--"

"I love you," Willow interjected. "I love you more than anything, anything in the world. But you need to listen to me now. Okay? I love you, but you don't know how the world works. It's different everywhere else than it was back in the village, and it's different than it was back in the forest. You had the luxury of living away from pieces of shit like this for the past ten years. I haven't. I've had to--"

"How many?"

Willow blinked. "How many what?"

"How many people have you killed?" Mongrel's thick, singular eyebrow dropped lower. "How many? And don't lie to me because I'll smell it if you do."

A look of hurt entered Willow's eyes. "I would never lie to--"

"How. Many?"

Willow dropped her hands to her side. She was quiet for a long moment, then muttered out the word "three." Her eyes drifted over to the still-warm corpse, its life's blood slowly creeping over the muddy cobblestones. "I guess four now."

"Promise me."

She shook her head. "No. Promise you what? That I won't kill someone that tries to hurt you? I can't do that. I'll kill anyone who--"

"Promise me you won't ... that you won't kill someone unless there's no other way. Okay? That's all. If we have to, we have to. But ... only if we have to."

Willow was quiet. Her eyes refused to meet her partner's. "Okay. I promise." Slowly she looked into her eyes, those yellow- and orange-flecked, almost lupine eyes that somehow contained more humanity than Willow's own. "Only if we have to. But if someone tries to hurt you I'll send them to the worst hell that there is as soon as I possibly fucking can."

Mongrel took a step towards her, then half-fell into her arms. They held each other quietly, Willow breathing in her partner's scent. Despite the stench of the alley, Mongrel's scent made the rest of the broken world bearable. No matter how far they ventured from the forest, the scents and smells of cedar and dead leaves never left her. "I love you," Willow whispered.

"I love you, too."

"Please don't yell at me," Willow whispered.

Mongrel squeezed her tighter. "We can do this. We can." She leaned away for a moment, tugging her mask down and pressing her wet black lips to Willow's own. "We keep following 'the void' wherever she walks. We'll find her and we'll fucking kill her and we'll go back home and we'll never have to come to places like this ever again. Okay?"

Willow nodded, earning herself another kiss. She took a breath, preparing to ask a question before the moment was interrupted.

"I feel sorry for whatever unlucky bastard that the two of you are after."

Mongrel let slip a low growl before remembering her face was exposed. Willow's knife was already in her hands as she turned on her heels to face the voice. "The fuck are you?" she hissed.

The new stranger held up his hands in a disarming gesture. He was dressed simply, so simply it seemed intentional, like he was someone accustomed to trying to dissuade attention from finding him. His shirt was stained, his pants dirty, a pair of faded fingerless gloves on his hands. And yet his fingernails were trimmed and far too clean for someone accustomed to wandering the back alleys of Sailor's Piss. His blond beard was just rugged enough to create the illusion he hadn't shaved in days, but groomed enough that his personal vanity would prevent it from becoming too disheveled.

"Someone stupid enough to bother someone as capable as yourselves," he finally answered with a practiced, charming smile. "But someone smart enough to know that dangerous people don't come to this town without seeking something. And, uh ..." He nodded towards Mongrel, who fumbled with her face covering in an attempt to cover up her lupine features. "Based on your friend's rather unique ... appearance ... I'm guessing you might be looking for someone I know a thing or two about."

Willow held her knife aloft as Mongrel dropped into a crouch, her fingers flexing to show off her long talons. Willow took one step towards the newcomer. "What ... exactly ... the fuck do you know about what we may or may not be looking for?"

The smile grew wider, and somehow faker. "Her. Eh?" His hands lowered along with Willow's knife. He knew he had them. "You're looking for her." He nodded towards Mongrel. "Someone like your friend, yes? Such a very hard woman to track. But the two of you already know that, I take it."

The man spoke with an accent similar enough to Willow's father. This combined with his dirty blond hair indicated to her that he probably came from whatever country her father originally hailed from. This made Willow hate him even more, her ire growing the longer she stared at him. "You talk or you die. Choice is yours. I'd just as soon make you number five than have to stand in this fucking alley anymore. My shoes are getting dirty. Your call, Mister ...?"

"I don't have a name," he confessed. "Not one I remember, anyway. Childhood memories are a luxury most in this town never possess. My friends call me Toad. Are ... you two my friends? I truly hope you are."

Neither moved.

"It's not a very flattering moniker, I have to admit," he continued. "But I bear it as gracefully as I can, for it is my yoke to wear. And it is an easy name to recall, particularly when my friends need information." The smile turned into a smirk, this one genuine. "Or favors. And I have a lot of friends, you'll be pleased to know. Quite a lot of friends."

"'Her?'" Mongrel growled. "One of your friends is--"

Willow cut off her partner with a quick glance and a shake of the head. There was no use giving this man any more information than they needed to.

"I do not, in fact, have that displeasure. Thanks be to the gods." He shrugged. "I think you'll agree that knowing such a woman isn't the best thing for those who wish to live a long and happy life. I do, however, have a friend, a very popular friend, that knows everyone in this city and most outside of it. Every guard on the walls, every beggar in the alleys, every whore on the streets. Most of them work for him, come to think about it. Do you know my friend, too?" He rolled the sleeve of his shirt up enough to reveal a gray button sewn inside of it. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for some glint of recognition to enter Willow's eyes.

"You have a button." Willow raised a brow. "Impressive. Next you'll show us you have strings on your shoes. Maybe a handkerchief? Undergarments?"

Toad pulled his sleeve back in place. "If you don't know what a gray button means in this town then our meeting is even more fortunate for you than I'd hoped. After all, you may not know my acquaintance but he knows you. And has for a long while now. Not by name, of course. Names aren't worth much these days. Usually, anyway. But you've been watched from the road for days. My friend's friends are very good at spotting people like you two."

Willow was getting bored with this exchange. "People like us? Hungry people? Tired people? Cold people?"

"Resourceful people," he interrupted. "People who look like they're searching for someone. People who perhaps want information on where to find them. People who might be willing to do a favor for a favor? People who--"

"Could you please stop?" Willow's head was hurting. "With this? With whatever it is you're doing right now? The whole jovial cloak-and-dagger thieves guild nonsense? Does your friend want something stolen, someone killed, someone kidnapped? Get to the point or get the fuck out of the way."

The man shrugged. "Fair enough. My friend would like someone killed. Someone most deserving, actually. A seller of slaves. Slaves are bad for business. A moral dilemma also. Very bad and very wrong ... at least the ones not owned by my friend, of course. The target is but a small fish in a large pond, but one that should be removed before he gets any bigger. My friend has people in his employ that can do this, of course, but a capable third party can sometimes draw less attention. And my friend doesn't like attention. Normally this would be a matter resolved with the clink of coins, but I think the two of you value information more?"

"And this is information your friend has." Willow wasn't buying any of this. "So far you've just assumed you know who we're looking for. I haven't heard you say anything other than she's hard to find and looks a bit like my friend. That's not exactly--"

"Tall. Very tall, yes?" He held a hand a foot above his head. "Like this?"

Willow glanced at Mongrel. She knew that by doing it she was letting the stranger know he was right, but she couldn't help it. "Go on."

"Brown hair, shaggy as a wolfhound ... or a wolf?"

"Maybe."

"And of course her hand. Very peculiar, indeed. Black, almost burned, almost--"

"Where is your friend's ..." Willow sighed. "Where is the man your friend would like to be killed?"

"Willow?" Mongrel rose to the balls of her feet. "A word? Please?"

Toad nodded, waved Willow away with a friendly gesture, and leaned against the wall. "Converse with your partner, please ... but also keep in mind my friend's time is very valuable. An opportunity such as this won't last forever."

Mongrel wrapped her hairy hand around Willow's, drawing her closer. "We. Are not. Doing this."

"M, listen--"

"No. We're not assassins. We don't do stuff like this. Okay? Killing a rapist in an alley is one thing, murdering a--"

"What do you want to do? Hmm?" Willow hated that her voice was so harsh towards the person she loved. "We know from your sixth sense or whatever it is that she's nearby. Probably in this city. So what would you propose we do? Go to another town? Hope we run into her at the fish market? Chance to meet her crossing the street? She's here. Look, this ... person ... knows what you are. What she is. He wouldn't just come up to someone like you if he wasn't serious." She turned around to the stranger and loudly said, "Right? Knowing you'd eat his throat if he was lying? He's not stupid enough to do that."

Toad's reply was another fake smile.

"But--"

"M, this is the biggest city within a fortnight's walk. Two fortnights. Anywhere else is going to be smaller. Less leads. Less chances. And your-your thing, the whole following the mental void of covering up her presence thing that her ... boss is doing. We don't know how exact that is. It could take years to get another chance at this, and there's no guarantee the next chance wouldn't require doing something even worse."

"We don't know!" Mongrel whined. "We don't know anything about him! Maybe he's a slaver, maybe he's another mob boss, maybe he's a baker or a priest or-or-or--"

"He's not," intruded Toad. "Take one look at his establishment and you'll see everything I've said about the man is an understatement. The world would be better off without him in it. You'd be doing the city a favor, and the gods always remember--"

"Shut the fuck up." Willow pressed her forehead against Mongrel's. "Let's just ... take a look at the guy. Okay? If we get the impression he's anything other than a slavemaster, then we just leave. Get back on the road, find another way. But if he's what this man says and all we have to do to find her is to kill someone who deserves it then I say we do it." Mongrel pulled back and started to turn her head away before Willow took her chin in her hand and forced her to look into her eyes. "Your call. If you say no, we leave. We find her some other way. Or if we find the guy and you say we should leave him alone, then we leave."

Mongrel's dark eyes were filled with apprehension as she stared into Willow's, her thick brow raising in genuine surprise. "You promise?"

"I promise." Willow kissed her forehead and was happy when she didn't pull away. "I'll go wherever you go. I always will."

Mongrel wrapped her arms around her mate tightly before stepping away. She glared at the stranger, her teeth bared.

"Where?" she finally asked.

---

Willow sat behind a crate at the city's docks, trying her absolute best to ignore the smell of dead fish. It had been years since fish were for sale here, but some smells just never entirely went away. She recalled a time in her life before it had been ruined when the smell was strangely comforting. The smell to her meant that her parents were home, bringing in whatever meager haul they had spent the entire day catching. The smell of dead fish meant family, home, and sitting on the makeshift dock with the young woman she would grow to love. Now it reminded her only that she was in a place she didn't want to be, doing something she didn't want to do, and looking for someone she had no business becoming involved with again, particularly if she wanted to continue breathing.

And she did. But not for herself. For her. If Willow had a reason to live, it was for her partner and the promise that they'd have a home together one day.

And then the voice in her head whispered to her that she was lying. That wasn't the only reason. That wasn't even the most important reason. She was living to see the light go out of the bitch's eyes as she sank her blade into her throat.

Not for the first time did she think Mongrel was probably correct. This ... quest or task or whatever this was wasn't likely to end happily. She would probably die in the attempt, or worse her mate would. Willow couldn't stand the thought of that, so why was she putting her in a position where that was a possibility? It would be better to go home--to the forest, or the village, or perhaps one of the hundreds of abandoned houses near the road that were still habitable. They were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Willow could steal some seeds, grow a small garden, work night and day to cultivate enough food to keep them going. And Mongrel could hunt whatever game she could find by night and stay hidden during the day, safe and warm in Willow's arms as they made love to each other while the world slowly finished dying.

But then she remembered her mother's blood on the monster's claws and her hand tightened around her knife.

Willow didn't hear Mongrel making her return until she was close enough to her that she became startled. The sudden movement seemed to cause the same reaction in Mongrel before the two laughed quietly and Mongrel crept up to her partner, wrapping her hairy arms around her. Mongrel was nude and shivering slightly. She rested her head on Willow's shoulder, and once again Willow thought that they would be better off forgetting this whole affair. But Willow couldn't bear the thought of waking every night in her usual cold sweat with the murderer's hands around her throat once again. They were doing the right thing. This was the only way.

They held each other for a moment, although Willow paused to wrap her love in her tattered robe. Mongrel had said it was easier to slink around without her clothing. When Willow had asked what would happen if she were spotted, Mongrel had only scoffed in faux indignation and quietly slipped away. Any bystander would have an easier time spotting an ant in a forest at night than her lover.

"What's it like?" Willow finally asked.

Mongrel snuggled closer. "What you'd expect."

"Bad?"

Mongrel nodded.

"Who is with him? Any guards or thugs or ...?"

Mongrel shook her head. "I don't think he's wealthy enough to afford any of that. He's just a man with ... you know." Her pointed ears drooped.

Willow cleared her throat. "Were there any slaves with him?"

"No, not today. But ... he's had them here. Recently. I could smell sweat and blood and pain. Fear. Crying. He has some chains, cages, that sort of thing. He's what the bastard in the alley told us he was."

Willow sighed. "And he's inside?"

"Yes. Eating dinner. Salt and bread." At the words Mongrel's stomach rumbled. It had been almost two days since they'd had anything. Willow had traded the mugger's knife for half a loaf of bread, but they hadn't had time to eat it and she wouldn't dream of having any without her love.

Willow interlocked her fingers with Mongrel's and touched her soft arm. She was more than a little sorry that the feeling reminded her of the one time she had been able to pet a dog as a child. "We're doing this." It wasn't a question.

Mongrel simply nodded. "I know."

Willow let go of her hand reluctantly. "We'll do it quick. It's better than he deserves. Then we get out and make for the alley to meet up with the Toad. Then we'll go to the place I told you about and sleep." She kissed her on the cheek. "And I'll hold you and we'll forget about today."

"No," Mongrel whispered softly. "No we won't." She rose to her hands and feet and crawled away in the direction of the man they were going to murder.

---

As far as hideouts went, it wasn't a very secure one. The man didn't have a bar across the front door, and the shutters over the windows were unlocked and rotten. Willow had her knife in her hands. She had offered to do the deed herself, but Mongrel simply shook her head and said that she would make less noise. Willow hated herself for putting her mate in such a position but she knew that she was right.

And so Mongrel slid through the window, dropping to the floor as silent as a shadow. Her love was only half human, but still more human than Willow felt in that moment. She was soon crouched behind the slaver as he sat chewing his meal, his hands stained brown and red as he shoveled the food past his lips. Willow noticed that another plate was set near him but didn't have time to dwell on it. And then Mongrel's hands were wrapped around his throat, her strong fingers covering his mouth as she sank her fangs into the soft skin of the man's neck. He gave a muffled scream that turned into a wet gargle as he tried to force his own blood from slipping into his lungs. Mongrel dragged him to the floor now, lying underneath him as his boots slid across the dirt floor, kicking futilely until they stopped.

Mongrel released him and instinctively licked the blood off of her hands and black lips. Willow slipped through the window and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Are you--"

"Stop," Mongrel muttered not unkindly. "Just stop. Not now. Let's just go. I want to get as far from--"

The front door opened and their hearts both stopped as a young boy stepped into the room.

The child's smile died in between heartbeats as he beheld the lifeless body of the man as the blood leaking from his throat turned the dirt floor to brown mud. He was skinny, undernourished as all children were in those days, but he was not starving. His clothes were nicer than anything Willow had herself owned, and seemed relatively new. Despite the horrible world he lived in, his face still held the joy that could only derive from a boy returning home to see someone whom he loved. The boy had likely not yet seen ten winters. Willow didn't need Mongrel's sense of smell to tell that the child wasn't a slave.

"Oh fuck me," Willow hissed.

"Dad?"

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck me."

Mongrel rose to her feet slowly. She hadn't finished licking her fingers clean. The boy didn't even seem shocked by her inhuman appearance. All of his surprise was reserved for the sight of his father lying dead on the floor. The rest of the world likely didn't matter much to him at that moment.

Willow grabbed Mongrel by the shoulder roughly. "Let's go. We've got to go."

"Oh gods damn me," Mongrel sobbed.

"M, we've got to go!" She remembered a time when Mongrel pleaded those same words to Willow's almost deaf ears as she beheld the mangled remains of her father's torso. "We've got to go right fucking now."

"Dad?" The boy sank to the lifeless body, his hands hesitating to touch the gaping hole in his neck, finally settling on touching his father's shirt. "Dad?"

"It's ... It's okay." The words were hollow, useless things as Mongrel extended a clawed hand to the boy. "It's okay."

"M!"

"W-W-We should take him with us."

"Have you lost your fucking mind?! No! No, we shouldn't--"

Mongrel wheeled to face her partner, the hairs on her back and shoulders standing on edge. She bore her teeth like a dog preparing to defend itself. "We fucking killed him!"

"A slaver!" Willow insisted. "We killed a slaver and now we need to leave before we end up worse than him!"

"We-We should take him ... somewhere."

"Where?!" Willow screamed.

"Damn it, Willow, t-to a church or-or an orphanage or ..."

"There are no fucking orphanages! And the churches will sell them off to someone the same as his gods-damned father after some old priest has his way with him first! M, I'm sorry, but the whole world is full of orphans like this one."

"I know that!" Mongrel's fangs were sharp. "You don't think I fucking know that?"

Willow closed her eyes, hating herself for what she had just said. Mongrel knew better than anyone what the world was like for an orphan on the streets.

The child was sobbing now, shaking violently as his world came apart. Willow wondered if one day she'd find him standing behind her with a knife pressed into her back.

"Give me your pack," Mongrel whispered flatly.

"What?"

"Give me your fucking backpack!"

Willow unslung her backpack and passed it to her mate, who fished out the loaf of bread she had stolen earlier. She started to hand it to the child, who shrank away in terror from the monster that had murdered her father.

Another monster. Another murder. Another father.

Mongrel slowly placed the bread on the table. With tears in her eyes she pushed past Willow and slipped out the window without a word.

---

They stood silently in the same alley as before, two murderers doing everything they could to keep their thoughts at bay. More than once, Willow reached for Mongrel's hand, but the she-wolf slid away, leaning against the wall and pulling her hood over her pointed ears. Willow closed her eyes, just wanting this night to be over.

Toad finally arrived, rounding the corner just when he said he would. He softly clapped his hands together as he approached. "Well done, ladies! Well, well done!"

Willow spat onto the muddy cobblestones. Mongrel turned away.

"Word travels faster than you'd think these days. You've done my city a great service, my friends. Perhaps you'd like to find permanent employment? My master can always use someone of your unique talents and ..." He glanced at Mongrel, who still wasn't looking at him. At either of them. "Your unique skill. Food in your belly every night and a warm place to sleep, aye? Much better than the cold nights on the muddy roads. Maybe even--"

"Stop talking or I swear you'll see your gods tonight." Willow shifted the weight of her backpack from one shoulder to another. "Let's get going."

"Of course." There it was again, the same shitty smile that Willow was growing so tired of. "First thing tomorrow."

"First thing now," Willow corrected.

Toad shook his head. "This isn't how these things are done. Such a man has many obligations, many endeavors to manage. But tomorrow for certain. Maybe the day after."

"Mongrel, could you please tear our friend's throat out?"

The smile disappeared. "I'm sorry?"

Willow nodded towards her mate, who dropped to all fours and crawled closer. "She's hungry. I'm hungry, too. She likes her meat raw. I'm a fan of cooking mine, but I'm not too particular at the moment. Never ate people before, but I've heard it tastes like everything else."

Mongrel pulled her mask off. Drool was falling from her lips. Willow doubted her love would ever consider eating another human being, but the rogue didn't need to know this.

The Toad took a step back. "Please, ladies--my dear friends--let's be reasonable."

"Will be," whispered Mongrel, her long tongue lapping her spit from her back lips. "I'll tear off your head first. Heard that you die after only a few seconds. Won't suffer long." She crouched lower, preparing to leap. "You're welcome."

"M-My friends--!"

"We're not your friends," Willow smirked. "Gods below, I'm getting so tired of that word."

"Ah! Wait!" Toad snapped his fingers and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Such a fool I am! My master's next meeting isn't until tomorrow night. H-How silly of me."

Willow smiled. "Yes. Silly. That's the word."

Mongrel looked up at Willow as she felt her hand on her back. "Does that mean I can't eat him?"

"Maybe later." She tried her best to replicate the fake smile on her own face. "After you ... friend."

---

There was more wealth in this one room than Willow believed the entire world held. The smell of rich spices drifted to her nose, and poor Mongrel hadn't stopped sneezing since the moment they'd first entered. Furs, silks, silver, even animals that Willow hadn't believed still walked the face of this world. Part of her wished she hadn't dismissed Toad's employment offer so suddenly.

The man sat behind a large table, dressed in a brown robe barely in better shape than her own. Dirty leather boots, a ragged cap, gloves that were held together by strings: this was a man that was accustomed to hiding his wealth from anyone and everyone. The only thing that indicated his station was a half-dozen gray buttons sewn onto his tattered sleeves, which evidently were used to indicate marks of agents who served under his favor. His eyes were somehow both tired and focused as the pair approached. Willow hesitated for just a moment before with a slight gesture he motioned for her to approach.

"Sit. Please."

"We'll stand, thanks."

"No." He shook his head. "You won't." He pointed towards two open seats around his table, the only two not taken by what must have been his lieutenants. "I insist."

Willow and Mongrel exchanged a glance before the blond-haired woman nodded and they both took a seat. Mongrel seemed to have trouble getting her limbs to stay still as she sank into the most comfortable chairs either of them had ever sat in. The poor creature kept trying to pull her legs to her chest and would have likely been far more comfortable crouched on the floor.

"Thank you." Willow nodded. Just play along, she told herself. Whatever game he wants to play. Men like this always have their games, so just play along and we'll be on our way soon enough.

The magistrate who was not a magistrate was flanked by four men on each side, all of them armed with clubs, rods, or knives. One even held a pitchfork. Willow felt the display was unnecessary, probably intended to serve as a reminder of the importance of the man they addressed rather than needed for his own safety.

"My associates call me the Sparrow."

Willow raised a brow. "They do?"

"And you let them?" asked Mongrel

"It's a silly title, but one I haven't been able to shake no matter how I try." He broke a piece of bread in two, placed each half on two clay dishes and slid them across the table to the pair. Willow knew enough local custom to recognize the gesture was meant to honor guests. Another man approached, this one bearing an iron collar around his neck that hinted that their host wasn't as opposed to the trafficking of humans as he let on. The slave poured a dark purple liquid into two cups and passed them to the pair before bowing and pulling away. Willow stared at the viscous liquid, glancing at Mongrel as her mate raised it to her nose and sniffed. She turned her head away in disgust, almost dropping the cup before setting it back on the table.

"Poison," she whispered. She sneezed loudly before wiping a string of snot on her arm.

"Wine," the king corrected. "A luxury from the old world. You've ... never had wine I take it?"

"She's never seen wine," Willow offered. "Nor have I."

"Ah," he replied. "It takes a while to get used to, but my men seem to love it when they can get it. It's never agreed with me for some reason." Another slave poured water into his own cup. This one was a girl, hardly more than a child. She was younger than Willow was on the day her parents were killed.

"If it doesn't agree with you, then it won't with us," Willow replied. "But I thank you for the gift. Just a bit too rich for people like us."

"Ah," he repeated. "And, tell me, what sort of people are 'people like us?' My associate spoke highly of you, even though ..." He paused, his mouth dropping open in surprise. It was the first emotion that he had displayed since they had entered the room.

Willow followed his gaze to her mate, who had pulled down her facemask and was devouring the bread she had been offered, barely swallowing one large bite before another was in her mouth. Willow shook her head with a smile. Some things, it seemed, never changed. No matter the changes to her body, Mongrel was still a starving orphan girl when it came down to it. Even before the transformation she had wolfed down any meal she could as if it were her last. Willow kicked her foot against the leg of Mongrel's chair. "Manners, love." The creature whined like a dog as she swallowed, though she slowed her eating.

"I ... see that your friend has something in common with the person you're seeking." The Sparrow picked up another piece of bread, tearing it into pieces calmly as he joined them in their meal. "I'd long thought of werewolves as just a myth, but these days it seems the land is rife with them." Willow assumed the man was attempting to show that the food wasn't poisoned, although Mongrel would've smelled it immediately if it were. "The woman you seek--is she an associate of yours?"

"She is not." Willow's face was made of stone.

He nodded. "Good. An associate of hers would not be a guest I would want to have under my roof." He smiled. One of his teeth was made of a shiny metal that Willow assumed was gold. "The woman is bad for business. I'm sure the pair of you can attest to that more than I can." He finished his bread and motioned the first slave towards the pair. The man brought two plates containing more cooked red meat than Willow had seen in her life. Mongrel looked at her mate, thick drool spilling from her mouth like a sieve. Without another wasted second she brought the entire slab to her face, tearing into it with her yellow fangs as red juice ran down her chin. Willow eyed the ornate fork and knife laying near her own plate as if they were some sort of magic artifacts. She lifted the expensive knife and had to resist the urge to slip it into her sleeve as she cut into the meat, speared it with the fork, and slipped a piece into her mouth. She felt like crying as she chewed. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever tasted.

"Eat your fill, please." His stoic expression seemed strangely more appealing than if he were smiling. "The venison in these lands is less gamey than in the hinterlands. There's plenty more ... and even more so if you would both be interested in acquiring permanent employment. I'm sure your friend has a healthy appetite."

Mongrel was finished with her meal and was licking the grease from her plate. Willow motioned for her to stop, earning her a low growl of warning from the half-wolf. The slave returned with another slab, and Mongrel tossed the plate to the ground before snatching it from his hands and sinking her fangs into it.

"M ..." Willow whispered.

Another growl. "Hongrrry," her mate protested.

Willow cleared her throat. "My partner and I aren't searching for employment at the moment, though the offer is extremely generous." She speared another piece of meat, resisting the urge to join her love in devouring it.

"A pity." The grim man ate his food slowly. He must have been accustomed to daily luxuries Willow could scarcely conceive of. "The offer will always stand. I also have freelance agents that prefer employment on a more case-by-case basis, if that would be--"

"No thank you." Willow spoke while chewing her food. "Though we do sincerely appreciate the offer." She wasn't entirely lying. "If it's not too rude to ask, I'd like to speak about more official matters."

The Sparrow wiped his mouth on a silk napkin before setting it aside. "Of course. I always appreciate guests who favor business over idle chatter. Ask away."

Willow grimaced as her fork clattered to the plate. "Where is she?"

He was silent for a moment before shrugging. It wasn't a gesture Willow was happy to see. "I'm afraid that I do not know. And you will forgive my temerity at saying this, but if I did know I wouldn't be willing to part with that information. Getting on the bad side of someone like your target is usually extraordinarily bad for business. I apologize for being so unhelpful in this matter."

Mongrel choked down her last bite. She glanced around as if she was disappointed another piece of meat wasn't being offered to her.

"Then why--and I must in turn beg for your own forgiveness for the abruptness of my tone--the fuck are you wasting our time?"

The king who wasn't a king nodded. "No offense taken. We are both busy people, I'm sure. And please don't misunderstand me. I wouldn't have arranged this meeting if I intended to waste your time or mine." Willow didn't remember his arranging this meeting at all. "I do not know where she may be found, but I do know someone who does."

Willow's eyes betrayed her as she stared in surprise. "Do you mean her ... employer?"

The voice. That horrible voice that they had both heard that day. The voice she prayed to never hear again.

The man raised a brow. "I ... didn't know that she had an employer."

Fuck, Willow cursed to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was provide the Sparrow with new information. Not without some sort of payoff for her or her mate.

"That information is rather surprising to me. I had always assumed that her ... activities were mere random acts of violence rather than carried out at another's request. I've learned over the years that there usually aren't many survivors when she participates in her endeavors. Certainly no one has ever hinted at her having a patron or matron. That is ... interesting news." He smiled warmly. "Are you sure that you wouldn't consider a place among our company? 'Interesting news' is a commodity more precious than any of these other trinkets that I peddle." He waved at the assortment of goods more valuable than anything Willow had ever seen in her life.

Willow ignored the question. "When can we meet your associate? The one who knows where our quarry can be found?"

"I'm afraid that will take some time. He is out of the city on another errand, but will return fairly soon. A few days. No longer than a week. During that time, I hope that you will allow us the pleasure of your company? I would be elated to have you and your friend remain with us for a time."

Mongrel flexed her fingers, her claws scratching at her robe as if she'd like nothing more than to sink them into something else.

"And in return for your generosity?" Willow knew what the answer would be.

The rogue smiled. "I'm glad you see how these transactions work. You're far more clever than most. I have a few tasks that I'm sure you wouldn't mind helping with in repayment for food and lodging. Minor things, nothing either of you would have any trouble with. I think you'll find--"

"Fuck you," Willow interrupted. She had to suppress a smile when the man's normally stoic face twitched in mild surprise. Mongrel started to rise to her feet before Willow motioned for her to keep her seat. "Fuck you. Fuck your associate. And fuck your chamber pot of a city. Either tell us what we want to know or sod off."

The Sparrow smiled sadly. "I'm afraid that won't do. Appearances to maintain, you see. Niceties aside, I'm sure you'll appreciate that a man in my position can't allow two women as dangerous as you to come and go as you please without being under my direct supervision. Does that perhaps change your mind?" He looked behind them and Willow didn't need her mate's hearing to tell there were crossbows being leveled at the pair of them.

Willow yawned. She hoped the effect was as dismissive as she wanted it to be. "No, I'm afraid that doesn't work for us. We'll be going then. Thanks for a lovely dinner."

The man shook his head and motioned towards his guards. The two were now surrounded by iron rods, wooden clubs, and more than a few swords. The Sparrow was a scoundrel after all. "I'm afraid you don't entirely understand the position you find yourselves in."

"We do, actually." Willow relished the look on the bastard's face as she put both of her feet on his table, shoving his expensive clay dishes aside with her filthy boots as she propped her feet up. "Though perhaps you do not. M?"

The table was aloft now, tumbling through spice-scented air as it barreled into four or five men, the expensive oak veneer now pierced by several errant crossbow bolts. Mongrel tackled Willow to the ground, away from the hiss of a few errant bolts, before rising onto her feet. The men surrounding them were hesitant to fire upon them for fear of hitting their employer, and the few who stepped closer brandishing their weapons slowed their steps as Mongrel let loose a low growl. She let her robe fall to the ground as her claws slid further from her fingertips, her jaw cracking sickeningly as her fangs grew longer. Her eyes were twin suns piercing into the soul of the leader of the group of thieves, his pleasantries suddenly forgotten as he beheld a transformation he had never dreamed possible. Her body was swelling now, muscles straining against her skin as she rose to the balls of her feet, her toes stretching wider as her feet shifted into paws. She towered over every figure in the hall now, a rumbling growl issuing from her maw as it gnashed in anticipation of her second kill of the evening. She took but a single step towards the Sparrow before he slipped from his chair, laying defenseless in front of his men in a way they'd likely never thought to see him.

Willow rose to her feet, leaning against her mate and making a show of placing a soft kiss upon her furry cheek. The beautiful beast whined, leaning closer to lick Willow's face a single time before her eyes again fixed upon her prey.

"I wonder which tastes better, my love," Willow asked innocently. "Venison or sparrow?"

"I ..." He nearly choked on his words. "I may have remembered something that could be of use to you, after all. I'm happy your friend j-jogged my memory. I can't believe I could have forgotten. The woman you seek is here."

Willow and Mongrel both cocked their heads to the side. "Here?"

"In the city. The other side of the city, thanks be to the gods. A part I'm thankful to have less involvement in."

"Where?" Willow was shaking now, despite her earlier confidence. "Where?"

"There's a three-story building near the eastern gate. It's the only one of its size. The remains of some magistrate's manse back when those words had meaning. If you'll give me until daylight, I can have the guards removed from that part of town. Wouldn't want anyone interfering with your business, after all."

"That sounds just great!" Willow said cheerfully. "Daylight it is. Now, I do hate to impose on you any further, but I'd like to take a few parting gifts with me as our business draws to a close."

"O-Of course ..." His smile was the truest Willow had ever seen as he stared at the drool dripping from Mongrel's teeth. The thought of the pair leaving his abode must certainly be a welcome idea at the moment. "You have but to ask."

"I'd like a sword. Any one will do, provided it's sharp. And made of silver." She hoped her smile was as genuine as the Sparrow's own. "Some oil too."

"Oil?" he asked.

"Something that will burn easily when struck."

"Oh." The king on his knees nodded towards one of his men, who immediately stepped away from the crowd to fetch what she had asked for. "Of course. At once. I have alchemists that have such a concoction. It will burn the instant it strikes anything solid. Will there be anything else to ... speed you on your way?"

Willow nodded. "Just one other thing." She pointed to the corner that was fragrant with the smell of spices she couldn't begin to guess the names of. "I'd like a bag of whatever the fuck is in that barrel."

A series of low, mournful whines came from the monster standing next to her.

Willow sighed. "And a bag of leftovers would be quite nice."

---

"This is it."

Willow slipped her hand into the palm of the woman she loved as they stared at the mansion below. At one point it must have been a stately manor, the abode of some rich man or governor or king or whatever the world used to have. A massive, three-story affair, it loomed higher than any building Willow had ever seen. She couldn't begin to guess when it had been abandoned. Perhaps it was during the event that still hurt her head to dwell upon. Or maybe it was before then, in the previous decades that no one seemed able to remember. The grand doorway was caved in, every window broken, the upper balconies barely hanging on from the third level.

Mongrel had urged them to take a higher perch to survey the ruin, yet another of the dozen or so crumbling buildings that surrounded the beast's lair. It would also keep their scent away from her when she returned.

"She's not there." Mongrel scented the air. Even in her more human form, her senses never failed to astonish Willow. "But she has been. Recently." Another sniff. "And she has a pack and a mat she's sleeping on. She'll be back."

Willow didn't realize she was holding her breath until she felt her mate's hand on her shoulder. "W-Which floor?"

"Ground."

Willow nodded. "Good. That's fucking perfect."

They had spent the better part of the past two hours preparing, prowling the rooftops, setting traps, going over their plans. Now all that was left was to wait and get a few hours' sleep.

Mongrel crouched low, licking her forearms for any stray bit of grease from the Sparrow's dinner. She lifted one leg into the air and was about to lean her head to groom another part of her body entirely before she suddenly started sniffing rapidly, her eyes scanning the streets below.

"What is it?" Willow whispered. "Is she here?"

Mongrel shook her head. "No, something else, something ... Oh gods."

Willow followed her mate's gaze, finally spotting what she had seen. A few guards were dragging a cart behind them. True to his word, the Sparrow was evacuating his men from the area. Willow hoped that wouldn't tip the bitch off, but it was better to have any innocents out of the way--if anyone was innocent in this damned city. "What? The guards?"

"The cart."

Willow leaned closer over the building's edge, straining to see what was in the cart. I can't tell what's in it. You can see it?"

Mongrel shook her head. "Can smell it."

"I still can't believe you can smell anything in this city. Everywhere we go it just smells like something died."

"Something did," Mongrel whispered, turning away. "I guess there's one less orphan for the city to worry about." She stepped away from the edge, taking a seat on Willow's bedroll and leaning her head on her arms as she sobbed.

"Gods below," Willow whispered into the uncaring night air. "It's the one from ...?" Willow didn't turn to see her mate nod. She didn't need to. "Gods below," she whispered again.

"Willow ... what are we doing here?"

Willow took a seat next to her, placing her hand on Mongrel's head and pulling it into her lap. She was relieved that she didn't push her away. "What we came to do."

"Willow, gods damn it, we did that! I did that! I-I want to go home. Away from this fucking place. We don't belong here." She touched her mate's knee with her clawed hand, although her eyes lingered on a large crate filled with bricks, a rope tied to one side dangling over the edge of the roof. "We don't belong in a place like this. We could just ... go. Leave all of this behind. Leave ... her behind."

Willow ran her fingers through Mongrel's thick hair as the wolf-woman continued to sob, pulling free a couple of tangles softly and tracing her thumb across her pointed ears. Maybe she was right. She broke the silence after a long moment. "Is that what you want to do? Just go back to the forest? Make love? Forget her? Forget what she did? Forget all of it?" There wasn't any sort of malice in her voice. She was asking the questions genuinely. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"Say forget about it, and we'll go. Right now. We'll just leave."

Mongrel rolled onto her back, looking up into her lover's face through tear-filled eyes. "You mean it?"

"Anywhere you go, I'll follow." A tear ran down Willow's own cheek before this wonderful creature she loved so very much wiped it away with a dirty thumb. Willow wasn't crying for the child, but for her part in making Mongrel weep. "I love you so fucking much. Say the word and we're gone. I-Is that what you want to do?"

The she-wolf's eyes darted rapidly as if trying to memorize every part of her mate's face. Finally she whispered simply, "No."

Half of Willow was disappointed in her answer. The other half was relieved.

"We can't let up," Mongrel said softly as she sat upright, pulling Willow close until the more human of the two rested her head on her shoulder. "Not for an instant. We have to surprise her and not stop until she's gone. We don't stop, even if she's not breathing. She was so gods-damned fast, so strong ... but she'll slow down when I tear her fucking head off. But if she gets a moment to breathe ..."

"She'll kill us both," Willow finished. She raised her head and turned to face her partner, taking her pawlike hands in her own as if they were children again preparing to play a game. She laughed lightly.

"What?"

"Want one last game of pick-up-rocks?"

"Fuck you." Mongrel laughed as she licked the tip of her love's nose.

"Might be our last chance."

"Fuck. You."

"Mongrel ... we can do this." She shook her love's hands as if she could wish conviction into them, although she wasn't sure she had any of her own. "We were kids back then. And even when you fought her, you had just changed. You didn't know your own body yet. We've been through so much since then. The things I've done, the things you can do ... We're so much stronger now. And she won't be expecting us. And-And even if she did ..."

Mongrel's single brow rose. "If she did, what?"

"She can't stop us." Willow pulled one of her partner's hands to her face and kissed her palm. "She can't. We can do this."

Willow tried to keep her hands from shaking as she saw Mongrel turn away.

"Do you ... Do you have a problem with this now?" Willow was afraid of the answer. The flecks of yellow and orange in Mongrel's deep brown eyes glinted in the dim light as she glanced back at Willow for just a second. "With killing her?"

Mongrel shook her head. "No. No, of course not. I want to watch the light leave her eyes as she realizes who slit her fucking throat. I want her gone as much as you do."

"What is it then? My love?"

The she-wolf sighed.

"Are you thinking about the kid?"

Mongrel shook her head. "Thinking about the guy back in the alley. The mugger. And ... the other three. Whoever they were. The ones that you ... y'know."

Willow looked away as if she had been slapped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm like this." She felt Mongrel's fingers on her shoulders as she pulled her in for a hug.

"It's not that," Mongrel whispered. "I'm just ... I'm sorry the world made you feel like you have to be this way. You're too good of a person for it to hurt you like it has."

Willow snickered. "Maybe once. Back when we used to sit by the sea. Before I learned how the world works." She reached out her hand for her mate's. "Those two days were the happiest in my life."

Mongrel shook her head. "No, they weren't."

A look of confusion passed over Willow's face. "What do you mean?"

"They were the happiest days of your life ... so far. We're going to have so many, many more. Together." Mongrel turned her head to look at her mate. Willow hoped that despite the years, despite the crow's feet in the corner of her own eyes, despite the miles walked, despite the dirt and the blood and the hate, she was still the same person that Mongrel had fallen in love with.

Willow brought her lips to Mongrel's and they shared a kiss as they slowly leaned down to her bedroll. When Mongrel broke the kiss she gave a little lick to the end of Willow's nose. At first she had believed her half-wolf partner was doing it intentionally, but she repeated the gesture every time they kissed. Willow believed now it was an instinctual thing for her werewolf lover. It was a little gross at first, but then she realized that it was just another way the strange creature showed that she loved her. The fact that it was a natural reaction, an affectionate gesture Mongrel didn't even think about consciously, seemed to drive that point home.

"We should get some sleep," Willow whispered, her hand lingering on her mate's bare hip. Mongrel only wore clothing when she needed to remain inconspicuous. Perched above the horrible city, that was no longer the case. She said the clothes just felt wrong, unnatural, like putting a collar on a wolf. Willow often asked if she wasn't cold, but her usual response was to simply shrug. She'd rather be cold than cover herself. Despite the strangeness of her body, the hair and the claws and the fangs, Willow had no objections in the slightest. Mongrel's body was so different from the one she'd had before, but Willow found herself loving every bit of it. "It's been a long day. The bitch won't be back until the morning, if what the Sparrow said was true. Should try to get a little rest, be better prepared for tomorrow."

Mongrel nodded, but the smirk on her black wet lips wouldn't go away. "We really should."

Willow's fingers trailed up and down her lover's side. "We really, really should," she repeated.

"But we're not going to. Right?" Mongrel smiled shyly, like she did ten years ago when they were just becoming more than friends. The red that entered her cheeks stood in contrast to the sparse thin hairs covering her face.

Willow leaned over her, wrapping her arm around her, loving the feel of the wolf's large breasts underneath her belly. "No. No we are not."

Mongrel brought her clawed hand to Willow's cheek and again their lips met, Mongrel's long tongue slipping past Willow's lips forcefully, almost hungrily. The she-wolf gave a small growl, and as Willow pulled away slightly she continued licking.

"Is the wolf-lady hungry?" Willow teased as she pulled away. Her fingers brushed against one of the teats just under her breasts, trailing lightly from one row to another before lingering on one of her lowest nipples, just on either side of her canine sex. "Wants her base animal needs attended to?"

Mongrel's long tongue hung from the side of her mouth. "Feels ... so fucking good when you touch those. More?"

Willow giggled. "Puppy wants her belly rubbed?" At first she was hesitant to say silly words such as these even in jest, but her partner generally seemed to like the playful pet-talk. The idea that her lover could be a towering monster one moment and a panting puppy the next left Willow convinced she was indeed the most wonderful person in the world. "Maybe somewhere lower?"

"Yes," the wolf-woman whispered, her long fangs biting into her bottom lip. "Yessss, she does." She moved to pinch one of her upper teats herself before Willow slapped her hand away. Mongrel responded with a growl that would've inspired fear in anyone other than the woman who loved her.

"Hush," Willow hissed. "Bad girl. These are mine, understand?" She lowered her lip to one of her middle pair of teats and sucked it into her mouth, earning a quiet, weak howl from her mate. Mongrel squirmed, her hands drifting above her head and Willow couldn't help but breathe in her lingering musk. Her animal scent had been off putting at first, but Willow's mind had come to associate it with the beautiful monster she loved more than anything. Willow played with another teat as she suckled the first, and Mongrel soon wrapped her legs around her lover's back.

"Tell me what it's going to be like," Mongrel urged softly.

Willow released the thick nub and laughed. "Really?! Now?"

"Please?" Another canine whine that Willow couldn't help but give in to.

The human woman sighed in faux annoyance, although the little game was one she loved as well. "We'll move far, far away. Into the woods."

Mongrel's claws slid through Willow's blonde hair. "Into a little cabin?"

"Into a little cabin," Willow confirmed. "Near a stream that will never dry out. In a forest where no one will ever find us. Filled with anything we'd ever need."

Mongrel laughed. "Go on."

"We'll live there. Just the two of us."

"Forever?" Mongrel cleared her throat nervously. "Y-You'd never think about leaving me?"

Just hearing the words almost made Willow sob. "Of course not! How can you even ask that? I could never leave you. That'd be like leaving behind a part of myself--my heart or my soul or-or--."

"Even if you found someone ... normal?" Mongrel rubbed her hands together, her two-inch long claws digging through the hairs on the back of her hands. Even after all this time, she was still so unsure of herself.

"You're my normal."

"I mean ... someone not like ... this?" She rubbed the thin dusting of fur on her shoulders, hugging herself tightly.

"Mongrel, you're the most beautiful creature in the world to me. Don't you ever, ever think otherwise."

"I-I get scared sometimes." She laughed, despite her words. "Like I feel that there's no way you can actually be here. With me. Like I'll wake up one morning and you'll be gone, or that I'm just crazy and you were never here."

"Me, too." Willow leaned away for a moment, staring into those yellow and orange flecked brown eyes.

"Really?"

"I mourned you for ten years. And now you're here." She slid lower to kiss her mate's belly. "You think I'm going to ever let you go again?"

"I love you," the creature whispered. "I love you so gods-damned--OH!"

Willow's mouth was between her legs now, kissing her inner thigh before moving to the strange spadelike hood surrounding her sex. She lapped at the wetness leaking from her slit as though she was a wolf as well, giggling at the mewling noises the beautiful monster was making. "You didn't let me finish the 'story', puppy."

"W-W-What else?" Another whine, almost ending in a bark. "Gods, don't stop, please."

"I'll do this every morning." Willow's tongue licked her spade from bottom to top. "And every night. And a hundred times between."

"Plllllease ..."

Willow pressed her tongue into the trifold slit, causing her lover to raise her ass off of the roof and press it closer to her mouth. Willow used the opportunity to slide her hands beneath her friend's firm ass. Mongrel gnashed her teeth, a string of drool falling from the corner of her lips as her jaw began sliding forward ever so slightly. "Already?"

Mongrel nodded rapidly. "G-Gonna change."

"Good," Willow whispered as she brought her mouth back to her lover's canine sex. It always took her a moment for her tongue to find her clit, but she loved every moment of searching for it. She lapped at the thick nub as Mongrel almost squealed.

"F-F-Fuck, Willow, go slower ..."

"No," came the cold reply as Willow slid one finger then two inside of her lover's strange cunt. "Come for me."

Mongrel's claws dug into the roof, tearing the remains of the paint away as they grew, her fingers stretching in the dim light. She tried to say something, but it was lost in a deep growl that sent a rumble through Willow's chest. Her feet were growing as well, tendons almost snapping as her heel stretched further from her toes. She inhaled, her lungs expanding larger as she prepared to--

"No howling!" Willow scolded.

Mongrel looked almost sad as she whined, her ears folding to the side of her head as they grew longer, sliding through her dark hair.

"Need to be quiet, remember? As quiet as you can be," Willow teased as she squeezed her mate's ass, the soft flesh swelling as hard muscle tightened underneath. "Gods below, you are so fucking beautiful like this."

Mongrel hissed, strings of drool escaping from her lips as her nose grew wider, darker, pressing ever so slightly into a muzzle. Willow wished that long tongue could be inside of her forever. The she-wolf brought her hands, almost paws now, up to her large breasts as they too started to swell, her dark nipples extending and thickening as they started to lengthen along with her other three pairs. Her lower teats were shifting as well as flesh piled beneath them, slowly rising into mounds until four pairs of breasts fought for space on her torso. Mongrel hated them, said they made her feel like an animal, but Willow loved running her hands across them almost as much as the mewling howls her lover gave when she twisted those thick teats.

"Like ..." Mongrel was having trouble with her words now, as she always did the closer that she got to her more feral form. "This ..." She started to roll onto her belly, making sure to keep Willow's head pressed between her inner thighs. She moaned as her need grew from being in this position, on all fours reduced to a bitch in heat. "Prrrrrrease ..." Her cunt was swelling now, growing even larger, her opening pointing fully behind her as Willow slid another finger inside, then another until all four were inside of her. Willow wiggled her fingers, feeling herself grow more and more wet as the motion caused her lover to writhe, tongue now licking the rough rooftop as her sentient mind started to give way to her bestial needs. Her tail was growing now, sliding from just above her crack until it was long enough for Willow to give it a sharp tug.

Mongrel clasped her paws over her mouth as her jaw continued sliding forward, growling and howling in ecstasy as she tried her best to cover up the sound. "Not ... fairrrrrr!" she gasped out between labored breaths.

Willow leaned back, stopping her ministrations enough to mockingly whine in her most infuriatingly innocent voice, "Does puppy want me to stop playing with her?" She had to resist the urge to tickle her mate's large pawpads.

"Frruck you," Mongrel growled through her front paws, still clasped over her muzzle. As her transformation drew closer to finishing her lust always reached its peak, and it was in those moments that Willow genuinely couldn't resist teasing her. "Mrrrorrre?"

The now much smaller human woman laughed and shook her head, saying simply the word, "Spoiled," as she flicked her lover's clit once more. It was much, much easier to find now and her tongue knew just where to be as she simultaneously tugged on her fully grown tail, sending the beast almost into convulsions. Willow didn't let up as her mate came, grasping at her wide hips to try to keep her from pulling away. When she was finally satisfied that her lover had enough she pushed lightly on her side, urging her to roll over. The night air was just chill enough to make cuddling next to her partner even more comfortable and she was eager to be wrapped in her strong furry arms.

Instead she was surprised when the she-wolf crawled onto all fours, turned around and prepared to pounce. "What are you doing now, silly beast?"

Mongrel growled playfully, ass shaking left and right as her tail drifted hypnotically from side to side. "Nrrrrow you."

Willow shook her head. "We should really get to sleep. Don't need to be tired tom--"

The large monster suddenly leapt on top of her. The creature's long tongue and wet slobber reached Willow's face before she felt the weight of her breasts and arms. "No. Nrrrow you."

Willow laughed out, "Okay, okay, love you too." She returned the "kiss," lightly pressing her lips to her lover's cold black nose. He let her tongue trail across one long fang before she nipped at her monstrous lover's black lower lip.

To her surprise, the werewolf pulled away slightly in order to drop her head to her shoulder as she tugged Willow's shirt away just enough to allow her to press her teeth against the skin without breaking it. Wordlessly, she whined out a question she had asked several times now.

Willow shook her head, careful not to shift too much against those three-inch-long teeth. "No. Not yet anyway. We don't know what it'll do and we need to stick to the plan tomorrow. One day, I promise."

The creature made a grumbling noise from deep within her chest, disappointed yet understanding. She leaned away, straddling the much smaller young woman, the dampness of her canine slit staining her tattered breeches. Willow's hands automatically moved to her lover's lowermost sets of breasts, twisting her teats softly in a way she knew she liked. The she-wolf slid away and began trying to tug her mate's pants off, but her paws were ill-suited for the task and Willow had to help her. Before she even had them completely pulled off of her pale legs she felt that wonderfully long tongue pressing past her lips as she stifled a moan of her own.

Sleep would come easy tonight.

---

The sun was just rising when Mongrel shook Willow awake. For a moment Willow wanted to swat her hand away and close her eyes again until she became aware of where she was and what was about to occur. The moment she'd dreamt of for ten years was here at last. She nodded to indicate to her mate that she was awake and aware before accepting the offered paw as the she-wolf helped her to her feet. Mongrel was still fully transformed, her thick, mismatched fur mixing into a kaleidoscope of brown, black, blonde, and gray. Her orange and yellow eyes were locked on the building below as if she could already see their target. Rubbing her own eyes, Willow was surprisingly not as tired as she had feared, her mind keen and aware. It would need to be.

Willow stepped close to Mongrel, huddling into her warm fur in the chill morning air as they stood at the edge of the roof, gazing down at the ruined mansion. "She's there," Willow reflected. She wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

Her mate nodded all the same. "Just like he said she'd be. Ground floor. Not the other levels. Like we hoped."

"What's she doing?"

Mongrel growled. "Sleeping." A soft smile appeared across her snout. "And drunk."

Willow's hand fidgeted with the handle of her borrowed sword. "Okay." She took a slow breath, tightening her grip on her love's paw. "Let's go make sure she doesn't wake up."

The large she-wolf wrapped both arms around her mate before she casually leapt over the edge, landing safely two stories below. Willow stepped from the embrace, took a few steps, and turned back to face her. She gave a simple nod which silently said everything she wanted to say and was received just the same way. "I'll be okay," the nod said. "So will you. We know our jobs, now let's do them." And of course it also said, "I love you. I always have. I've loved you my entire life, and I'll love you in the next one." Mongrel nodded and vanished, disappearing like a silent breeze into an open alley.

Willow turned to face an open window. She had pictured this moment every night as she cried herself to sleep, but now that it was here she was almost disappointed. She wasn't about to cross the threshold into some forgotten hell. No secret entryway into the villain's lair. No gaping mouth of a cave leading to the dragon's lair. She was just going to crawl in through a plain window into an abandoned building, something she'd done more times than she could count. Willow looked to the gray sky for a moment and smiled. The sun was rising and the weather was going to be nice for once. It was going to be a pretty day.

Her eyes dropped back down as she took a few swift steps towards the open window.

---

Willow crept barefoot with knife in hand across the large foyer towards the room in which the monster slept. She was careful not to step on any broken glass or stray leaf, every step as sure as it was silent. The bitch would not hear her. She wouldn't. Not until her knife was buried in her throat as Willow screamed before plunging her sword through her heart.

She felt almost disappointed as she rounded the corner and saw her sleeping, sprawled out as peacefully as a child with a half-empty bottle of something light brown just outside of her outstretched hand. It wasn't until Willow took a step closer that her heart began racing.

Finally.

A few more steps and Willow was standing above her. The monster. The fiend. The nightmare that tore her father and mother to pieces and snapped her best friend's neck. Willow wanted nothing more than to taunt her, just as the murderer had done that day. But she knew better. She couldn't give her a moment to breathe, a moment to realize what was happening. If the bitch died without even knowing why then that was its own special type of revenge, just as good as any other.

It was her. The same one from her nightmares. Tall. Muscular. Shaggy brown hair. Claws as long as Mongrel's on her human fingers and toes. And that hand. That cursed hand, black as if burned just as it was ten years ago.

Willow raised the knife. Even if she died today it would be worth it to see it buried to the hilt in the monster's soft neck. She brought the blade down quickly, just as she'd dreamt of doing a thousand times over the past decade. It sank into her skin, slicing through her windpipe as the bitch's eyes opened in terror.

Good, Willow thought. Be afraid. Be afraid and die.

The woman clawed at her throat, gurgling gasps coming from her as the air in her lungs escaped through her neck in the form of crimson bubbles. The skin was already beginning to reknit as she tried to pull the knife from her throat. She lashed out with her clawed hands, trying to slice at Willow but the young woman had anticipated the movement and danced away. In midair she pulled a pouch from her belt and tossed it at the monster's angry face. The fragrant spices were worth more money than Willow would ever hope to possess, every precious grain a fortune.

The cloth broke apart as it was designed to do by the Sparrow's less savory agents, spilling the brown powdery contents of the sack across the madwoman's face. She coughed violently, shaking in pain as it became even harder for her to breathe. Her eyes were closed now, her talons digging new red lines into her face as she tried to tear the spices from her eyes, nose, and gaping throat wound.

It was working. It was fucking working.

Willow darted away just a few steps, turning her back to the creature as she crouched, using the momentum to spin back to the demon. Pulling the silver sword from her belt, it sliced through the air before crashing into the madwoman's side. She was too weak to even groan as her life's blood spilled from her neck and she fought in vain to fill her lungs with air. Willow pulled the sword free. The monster raised her hands, her piteous moans doing nothing to slow her attacker's wrath.

The sword sliced through the air again, almost bisecting the woman's arm as she raised it to defend herself. Again it rose. Another gurgle. Again it fell. The arm was barely connected by bone and sinew. She couldn't stop. Raise. Fall. Raise. Fall. One single misstep and it would all be for nothing. If the bitch recovered she'd end Willow's life just as she almost had ten years ago. Slash. A chunk of flesh from her belly. Slash. The bones of her shoulder were visible now. Slash. Her jaw was only connected on one side.

And yet somehow she was recovering. Willow brought the sword down again and again, screaming in fury with each strike, but still the madwoman was able to get to her feet. Her eyes finally focused on Willow, those same fiery mad eyes that she had beheld all those years ago. She was stumbling, barely on her feet, but she would soon recover.

A piercing howl came from a few rooms away, causing the madwoman to turn her head towards the sound.

There was a loud crack from the ceiling directly beneath where she stood. Willow couldn't resist a smile.

"Fuck you." Willow relished the words as she ran towards an open window and leapt into the alley. She didn't have the precious time needed to see the look of surprise on the monster's bloody face as the ceiling started to collapse. In the alleyway, Willow covered her mouth from the coming cloud of dust and smoke as she ran faster than she had in her life. Bits of plaster fell from overhead, and Willow had to press her palm to her lips as she began to laugh. A rumble vibrated through the sidewalk, growing louder and louder as Willow burst through the alley into the main street, spun around on her heels, and screamed in triumph as the entire three-story building fell in on itself.

Mongrel's large paw was on her shoulder before Willow realized she was there. It had worked. Once the main support beam of the building had been removed the entire manse had collapsed. Her throat had likely grown back together at this point, but having ton upon ton of rubble crushing her had probably slowed her down quite a bit. The pair exchanged a glance, nodding silently as they ran back towards the rubble. Tears stung Willow's eyes as she ran into the dust and dirt hovering above the ruin. She wrapped lover's face covering around her mouth and nose to keep her from coughing. Mongrel didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

The she-wolf's head darted left and right as she sniffed the air. Even in the brown smog, she'd be able to smell the bitch anywhere she may lie. Her ears twisted towards one certain spot, and she raised a bestial limb to point towards the rubble laying near Willow's feet. She had found her.

Rocks weighing hundreds of pounds were pushed aside as the monster crawled from the wreckage. She ripped Willow's knife from her throat as it reknit, tossing it aside angrily as her lungs filled with air just enough for her to scream in fury. But still she was slow, coughing, waving her wounded hands before her face. Her eyes were still filled with the spices Willow had thrown and she wasn't yet able to open them.

But she was climbing to her feet.

"No fucking way," Willow whispered as she raised her sword. She carefully stepped across the rubble, circling around the monster as Mongrel charged towards her. The she-wolf slashed at her foe's chest when she was close enough before sinking dozens of teeth into the madwoman's shoulder. The demon screamed in agony as Mongrel whipped her head back and forth, tearing a large chunk from her shoulder. She spat it on the ground as if disgusted by the taste of the flesh, raised her paws and slammed into her side, knocking her away to land just beside Willow.

The madwoman was still clawing her eyes, and finally managed to open them. What she saw caused her lopsided jaw to drop, her red eyes forced open in the shock of witnessing the monster with the mismatched fur before her. A single word came to her lips, one Willow had never expected to hear from her. One word that filled her with more hatred than she thought herself capable of, even after all this time.

"Mother?"

Mongrel cocked her head to the side, as confused at the word as Willow was enraged by it. For an instant, Willow's own mother's face flickered in her mind. She had almost forgotten what she looked like, but now the image was clear. Willow screamed obscenities Mongrel had likely never heard as she plunged the sword down. It pierced the bitch's shoulder, bringing her down once again to the ground as the end of the blade wedged itself in between two large pieces of rubble. Willow leaned heavily on the blade to keep her pinned and couldn't resist bringing her lips close enough to the woman's pointed ears to whisper a simple greeting.

"Hello, Lura."

The madwoman was just as surprised to hear her name spoken aloud as she had been when her throat was sliced open. She struggled against Willow's weight and almost seemed to be sobbing in fear as she rose. She wasn't a murderer now, not an assassin or a devil or a monster, just a woman scared for her life. Willow twisted the blade, then suddenly leapt aside as the heavy weight of the she-wolf landed atop her target, slicing her belly open from sternum to navel.

Willow ran back in the direction of the building they had leapt from. It was working, but it wasn't working well enough. Lura's eyes were open, and she seemed to be capable of thought, even if it was just basic self preservation. One misstep and she'd be back on her feet and it would all be for nothing. Willow slammed her back into the wall, her hand wrapped around a rope that descended from the rooftop they had slept on the night before. The pair had one last trap, and it was time to use it. Mongrel glanced behind herself towards her mate, who responded with a silent nod.

With one practiced motion, the she-wolf ripped the blade from the ground, picked Lura up by her arm, and slung her like a dead animal. Her shredded intestines flailed in the wind until she slammed into the wall just to the left of where Willow waited. Willow tugged on the rope, backing away quickly as her own sword flew through the air to impale the bitch, pinning her to the wall. Willow wasn't entirely expecting that maneuver, and the fanged smile on her mate's muzzle seemed like the she-wolf had improvised the move. Willow almost laughed as she fled once again, turning around when she was at a safe distance away from what was going to happen next.

Lura's hateful eyes fixed upon the pair for only a moment before several tons of brick crashed upon her, struck the pavement ... and burst into flame. Willow didn't know what witchcraft the Sparrow had infused the oil with, but it burned hotter and faster than she'd allowed herself to hope. Lura screamed in agony as she thrashed about, pinned beneath the rubble and unable to stop herself from being burned alive.

Mongrel raced to her side and the pair shifted their feet expectantly, readying themselves should the monster somehow rise again. She did not. Eventually her struggles slowed and then stopped altogether. The screams turned into sobs now as her hair caught aflame and her head dropped to the pavement. Willow thought she could hear the word "please," and for a second she felt pity for the creature. She spat on the ground as the pair watched the source of their nightmares rise into the air in the form of soft black ashes.

Slowly the pair looked at one another. Neither wanted to be the first to say what was chief in both their minds: "It's over." Instead they began to laugh as if they had both lost their minds. Perhaps they had.

"We ... Did we do it?" Willow asked.

Mongrel drew a breath to say respond, but Willow would never find out what she was going to say. She was suddenly no longer there. "No!" Willow screamed, looking about in terrified dismay until she finally saw her mate collapsed atop the center of the pile of rubble. A look of horror crossed Willow's face. She knew that the she-wolf hadn't been hurt, not really. It would take far more than being tossed aside to do any real lasting harm. The terror came from the realization that she had failed after all.

They had failed. Utterly, completely, unforgivably. They had failed.

Because the horror had risen to her feet..

And now they were both going to die.

Willow found herself dangling above the ground, held in a steel grasp by the throat just as she had been ten years ago. Just as she had been most every night in her dreams. Her eyes refused to focus. She didn't want to believe what was happening. She couldn't. She refused. A moment ago they had won. It was over. They could go home, wherever home was. It wasn't fair.

There was no pressure being applied to her neck, and the charred, smoldering arm that held her aloft was shaking, its strength not yet completely returned. When Willow finally looked the madwoman in the eyes she had to fight back tears. She wasn't afraid of dying. The worst part of that would be not being able to be with her partner, not being able to grow old together. Willow was heartbroken that it had all been for nothing.

Lura's eyes were crazed, her eyelids still boiling as the blackened skin sloughed away, giving way to the new, unblemished skin just beneath. Bits of hair and scraps of clothing were still aflame. It took several moments before the madwoman could form words, and when she did they came out gasping with smoke escaping past her snarling teeth that were visible through her charred smoldering lips.

"I. Had. WHISKEY. In there."

Mongrel howled, racing towards the pair, drool pouring from her maw as she prepared to strike.

"Heel!"

Mongrel slowed her gait just a bit, but still was barreling towards the madwoman.

"Fucking HEEL!"

The she-wolf slowed, falling to all fours. Her ears flattened, her tail tucked between her legs. Willow knew this wasn't due to the bitch's commands as much as fear that her mate was in danger. "Please," she whispered.

"Heel or I'll snap her fucking neck!" Willow whined at the words, remembering that day not so long ago when she had heard the sickening crack of broken bone coming from Mongrel's own neck.

Lura spat onto the ground, the spit sizzling on the dirty pavement. The flames were extinguished now, and already there was more healthy skin than burned. Her hair was steadily creeping down her back as it lengthened to her waist. Soon it would seem like the assault upon her had never even happened, its only real casualty the monster's ruined clothing and several tons of rubble. This was what Willow had always been afraid of. It was useless. All of it. All ten fucking years. It was all useless.

The only human woman among the trio kicked her legs feebly, trying to force out an insult, some last bit of defiance before she died. She wondered if there would be some demon, some ghost, whatever it was waiting for her afterwards. Maybe it would offer her the chance to turn into a monster to get revenge as it had done for Mongrel. And then she could fail all over again.

"Shut. Up." Lura slightly shook Willow like she was a disobedient child. "I'm trying to remember where the fuck I fought your dog before."

Mongrel crept closer, although she kept her paws where the other she-wolf could see her. She wasn't going to attack for fear the madwoman would hurt her love. Lura's words seemed to slowly sink into her mind. "W-What? You don't even remember? How many werewolves have you met?"

A look of sadness crossed the woman's feral eyes. "You'd be surprised," she forlornly whispered.

Willow groaned loudly, trying to speak. Lura sighed in frustration as she lowered her to the ground, although she still gripped her throat like a vise. "Okay, yes, what? What do you want to say?"

"H-How many ..." Willow gasped. She was crying now and she hated herself for it. "How many did you fight after you killed an entire village?"

Lura's head cocked to the side. "Wait ..." Her eyes looked to the heavens as if the inappropriately pleasant sky would help her recall. Willow hated her even more. It was like she was trying to remember where she'd left her shoes or the name of the man she'd bought her first horse from. "That was ... fuck, no, I lost it. I can't remember. Sorry. I'm sure you were probably hoping I would."

"Have you destroyed so many villages you can't even recall all of them?" Willow didn't want to be having this conversation. She wanted to watch the woman holding her by the throat die. That was all. "Killed that many parents? That many children?"

The woman shrugged. "Yes, yes, and yes." A look of realization slowly dawned on her face. "Wait ..." She turned to look at Mongrel, keeping her ebony talons wrapped around Willow's throat. Her solid black hand was the only part of her body that still hadn't returned to normal. Willow felt it probably never did. "Ohhhhh shit! You were the new helper!"

Willow and Mongrel exchanged a look. They had no idea what she was talking about.

Lura turned her eyes back to Willow, although she pointed at Mongrel with her free hand. "You. Change back. Now." She spat again. This time it didn't sizzle. "Change back and I'll let her go."

"No!" Willow screamed. "Mongrel, don't you fucking dare! Kill her! Please!"

"O-Okay, Lura." Mongrel slowly rose to her feet. "You win. I-I'll change."

"No, gods damn you, Mongrel! No!"

Mongrel's maw was the first to shift, sliding back into her skull with a sickening wet sound that Willow never thought she'd get used to. Her teeth receded into her gums as her snout shrank, although Willow knew they'd still remain longer than those of a normal human. She began to shrink, hundreds of pounds of muscle disappearing into nothingness as her fur slid back into her skin until only the thick human hair remained across every inch of her body. Her feet shrank until they were more or less human, her three extra breasts deflating and leaving only simple teats. In the space of a few minutes, she was back in her human form, or as human as she could be. She held her hands out, her head bowing low in submission as if she were still canine. "It's okay. See? You win. Just don't hurt her. Please."

"All the way." Lura made a circling motion with her free hand. "All the fucking way, come on."

"T-This is ... This is all the way. For me. I-I can't turn back all the way. I never have been. I swear." Her eyes darted back and forth from Willow to the madwoman. "Willow? Please, please let her go."

Lura seemed unsure but slowly released her grip. Willow collapsed to the ground, backpedaling on her hands and feet towards her partner. Mongrel wrapped her mate in her trembling arms, kissing her forehead and whispering, "I'm sorry" over and over.

Willow wrapped her hands around her mate's. "Wasn't your fault. You-You were amazing." She squeezed her hand. "You always have been."

"I love you, Willow. I love you so much." The pair held themselves as if the next few moments would be their last.

Instead, Lura merely rolled her neck from side to side as if she had slept poorly. "Haven't been on fire in a while. Ow." She sat on a large boulder and pointed at the pair. "You sit. Both of you fucking sit. If you stand up, I will tear your fucking legs off. I can kill you just as quickly from over here as I can with my hand wrapped around your neck. So take a seat." She patted the still smoldering remains of her nightshirt. "Took weeks to find that whiskey and you two drop a gods-damned building on it."

Willow glanced at Mongrel for a moment. The wolf-woman had a look on her face that said, "Wait. Listen. Give her a chance to mess up."

The monster was silent for a long while, merely staring at the two as they huddled on the remains of the mansion. "I suppose asking why you're here is a stupid question, so I'll just ask you what you think I should do with you?"

"Let us tear out your eyes," Willow immediately answered

"Probably not that." She looked down the empty streets. "Where are the guards? Nobody cares that a building just fell over? Oh. Wait." Lura returned her gaze to the pair and raised an eyebrow. "You did that?"

Neither responded.

"Nice. I guess that means you met King Birdie? And the flaming bricks and whatever that shit was in the pouch? That must have all been his, too. I'll have to remember to feed him his intestines next time I see him. You two have been very thorough. For all the good that did." She began to pick up a few small rocks and toss them as she sat in thought. "I think ... I think I'm not going to kill you."

"W-What?" Mongrel stammered. "Why not?"

"I have no idea." Lura tore a mass of charred flesh from her shoulder with a hiss of pain before tossing it aside with a wince as the flesh underneath reknit itself. "You bite hard," she complimented Mongrel. "I see why you were recruited. Or chosen as a failsafe. Or whatever you are. Did the bastard know you were going to attack its other little helper?"

Mongrel shook her head. "Wasn't ... 'recruited.' Wouldn't have worked for you or ... that-that thing ... even if I was."

"I'm sorry ... what?" Lura seemed shocked. "What do you mean? How many jobs have you done for it?"

The pair exchanged a glance. What in the hells was she talking about?

"Jobs?" Mongrel slowly asked.

"For ... you know. It. The big shadowy fucker."

"She has no idea what you're talking about," Willow bitterly offered. "Neither do I."

"Okay, wow." Lura stood. The pair recoiled as if they were about to be attacked again, but Lura simply began pacing, her back to them as if they weren't there. Willow contemplated attacking again for a moment before realizing how pointless that would be. Mongrel must have realized her mate would have considered this course of action, and put her hand on her knee to keep her in place. "You mean to tell me ... I mean, I just assumed that after you were ... made like me, that you'd be ..." She turned to Mongrel. Something had changed in her demeanor, like she was not usually used to being surprised. "You know: another me."

Mongrel shook her head. "It ... made me into ... this. But it never spoke to me again. Why?"

Lura laughed bitterly. "Who knows? You think I'd know? Ha!" She shook her head. "You're asking for reasons from a creature that operates on logic that makes sense only to itself. It's ... a good thing, though." She looked at her hands as if to examine blood that had been there a long, long time. "If you're lucky it won't ever contact you. It may have actually forgotten about you. You should pray to every god you believe in and some that you don't that it has."

"I don't understand," Willow whispered. "The voice, what is it? Some sort of spirit or demon or god or--"

"None of those," Lura interrupted. "It's ... complicated. Mostly it's just a pain in the ass. But I guess you'll be wanting a bit more of an answer than that." She suddenly giggled and slapped her knees as she again took a seat. "Story time! This'll be fun. It's all related to the event. The one that hurts your mind when you think about it."

Willow's jaw fell open. She couldn't help herself from thinking about the ever-present headache that anyone got when they considered whatever event it was that made the world the way it was now. She steeled herself, preparing for the sharp pain, but for the first time in her life it never came. "Why ... Why doesn't my head hurt?"

Lura took a seat and nodded to Mongrel. "You're thinking about it, too?" The poor half-wolf nodded. "And me makes three. What usually happens when more than one person thinks about it?"

"It hurts more," Willow answered automatically, like she was still a child listening to her mother tell her why it was best not to dwell on it, whatever it was, like she was promising not to think about the event. "The more people that think about it in a group the more it hurts. So why doesn't it hurt?"

"Because I'm talking about it, probably. I was there--for one of them, at least. I missed the first apocalypse but made it to the second one. It can't just keep me from remembering the way it does everyone else."

"What ... 'it?'" Mongrel asked slowly, probably fearing the answer. "The demon? The voice?"

Lura shook her head. "The world."

Willow's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her knife. The motion didn't go unnoticed, though Lura didn't seem particularly interested. "Start making sense or kill us and spare us this nonsense."

"The world has ... I don't know. You know when you start to get sick and so you eat fruit to ...? Wait, that's stupid, you probably haven't actually eaten fruit before." She paused, trying to think of a better explanation. Willow was now convinced she was insane, but perhaps in another way than she had always believed. "After you get over being sick--a cold, or a bad cough--you feel great for a few weeks. It's because there are little beasties your body pumps into your blood to fight off infections and keep yourself from getting that same sickness all over again. At least for a little while. Stop looking at me like I'm crazy. The world has its way of protecting itself like--this isn't making any sense, is it?"

Lura sighed. "Okay. Start over. The event, whatever you want to call it, wasn't the only time the world almost ended. There were two. We used to call the first the Tear. People back when I was young remembered it, but not all of the specifics. We knew there was someone that caused it, but no one remembered his name even though it happened within my lifetime. Everyone simply called him 'the Adversary.' The world itself made everyone alive forget his name to try to keep anyone from finding out any more about him than that. The world almost ended after he performed some stupid ritual, and it couldn't live through it again if someone tried to perform it a second time. So of course someone did. The second event, the one that hurts your mind to think about ..." She sighed. "That was because of me. Because I couldn't stop it."

"You are completely insane." Willow shook her head. "Like human-waste-eating, drooling into a pillow, talking to livestock insane. I'm honestly disappointed in myself for spending so much time wanting to kill you."

Lura shrugged. "Sorry." Her tone had a casual honesty about it that infuriated Willow.

Mongrel cocked her head to the side. "So--okay, wait ... So nobody remembers the first one because after the second one ... the world just tried to make people forget it entirely?"

"M!" Willow gasped incredulously. "You can't believe this shit! The world almost ended and it made people forget about it and tiny creatures in our bodies and-and--?"

"Your friend is a fucking werewolf." Lura sniffed the air. "Ohhhh, wait. You two are--okay. Good to know. Your partner, your lover, whatever, is a fucking werewolf. I'm a fucking werewolf. You talked to a ghost. Some explanations take a bit more thought than growing potatoes or eating dirt or whatever you did before all of this shit happened to you."

"You mean before YOU happened to us."

Lura frowned. She seemed almost sad, although Willow would not allow herself to believe the creature was capable of remorse. "Yes. Before I happened to you."

"But why would someone want to end the world?" Mongrel asked.

"He didn't want to," Lura replied. "The Adversary or the Boogie Man or whoever he was, he-he wanted to make things better. Things were hard back then. I mean, the crops grew and there was game to eat and livestock and kings. It was a lot better than it is now. But he wanted to make life better for everyone. As you see, he did a pretty shitty job of it. But his heart was supposedly in the right place. My ... My father worked for him."

"What a surprise," Willow sneered. "How do you even know all of this?"

"It told me." Lura was wringing her hands together, an absentminded, nervous gesture. "The thing that spoke to your friend and made her this way."

"What. Is. It?"

Lura sighed. "Will. It's will. Focus. Intention. Want. An aspect of conscious desire from the only real gods, the mindless ones that have no will of their own. The Adversary tried to harness the will of the Blind Ones to give himself the power to make the world better. But they're sightless, idiots, brainless. He thought if he could direct their power, make them have conscious thoughts of their very own then he could bend them to his will and remake the world. Give will to gods that don't have any and force them to make the world a paradise. He was not a smart man."

"Wait-wait-wait ... Blind Ones?" Willow couldn't stop herself from laughing. "What the fuck are--"

"That ... seems familiar." Mongrel was rubbing her temples. "Like a dream I had or a vision or ... something I just know."

Lura nodded. "Probably because you talked to it. The Blind Ones are the closest thing to gods, real gods that we get." She made a circle with her finger and thumb. "The world is round, and it's inside a bubble. The sun, the moon, the stars. All within the bubble. But everything that's outside of the bubble?" For a moment she almost looked like she was about to cry. "Just eyes. And teeth. And mouths. Just a jumble of chaotic, writhing flesh and biting and-and ..." She shook her head and took a breath. "Hope you two aren't religious. That's all that there is. No clouds to sit on or pretty music or golden roads. No seeing your dead grandma again. None of that. And the only real gods are about as capable of thought as an insect, maybe a fish. And when the Tear--the first event--happened they took notice of the world. And then again when I got involved in all of it. The second event. They saw us. Just for an instant, but they saw us."

Mongrel hugged herself. "What would happen if they looked at us for longer? If they ... looked at the bubble longer?"

Willow laughed. "M, come on! Really?!"

Lura closed her eyes. "The bubble would burst."

The silence that followed was one Willow hadn't felt since she had sat alone on a cold hearth in an abandoned cabin.

"Well, look at us chatting like old friends." Willow tossed a few pebbles aside.

"Why do you work for it?" Mongrel finally asked.

Lura bowed her head. "Because somebody has to," she whispered softly.

"Right," Willow sneered. "Of course. Somebody has to run around tearing apart farmers and children. The 'divine will' needs you to kill and maim and-and--"

"Yes," Lura answered sadly.

"Why?" Mongrel asked. "Just answer plainly for once. Why work for it? What do you get out of it?"

"Perks of the job, M." Willow smiled. "Killers have to have someone to kill."

"Because of the way it works. The entity that was created during the Tear, it ..." Lura's eyes became hard, accusatory, glaring at the rubble at her feet as if it was to blame for the monster she had become. "I called it 'Shade' once, and the name stuck. I don't think it really cares what I call it. It's power is ... limitless as far as I know. It can do anything. Topple a mountain, fling a castle into the sun, resurrect the dead. I've seen it do all three."

"If it's so powerful, then why in the hells does it need you?"

"Because its power comes with a price. Every time it acts directly, anything more than just simply existing in one spot at one time or speaking, it has to pull its energy from somewhere."

"Where?" asked Mongrel.

"Life." Lura's eyes were full of sorrow now, almost like a child caught in a misdeed by her parents. Willow was infuriated that her lip was actually trembling. "Every time it acts directly it ends up ending another creature's life. If it breaks a sword in twain it will mean a dead bird or two. If it puts out a forest fire it would probably mean killing every animal that lives there. And if it wanted to make a woman with a broken neck into a werewolf ..."

"Oh, gods." Mongrel's eyes weren't focusing on Lura, or Willow, or anything other than the past. "The fish."

"Mongrel?"

"T-The fish. When I changed, when I was swimming to the surface, there were hundreds of fish all around me. A thousand maybe. More than I thought were ever in the sea. They all ... just died."

"You call your girlfriend 'Mongrel?'" Lura laughed. "Bit rude. You're a werewolf, sweetie, you don't have to take that from her." The pair turned to the madwoman as if remembering she was there. "After the Tear, there was a man named ... gods, I don't even remember his name. That's sad. I spent a long time wanting to kill him and now I can't even remember his name." She laughed and smiled at Willow, sharp yellow teeth amidst a saccharine smirk. "I'm sure you can appreciate the feeling. He tried to recreate the ritual, make himself a god. No altruistic goals, he just wanted power. I tried to stop him. Me and my ... friends. We failed. Horribly. It--Shade--had to fix it all before the gods decided our world looked tasty. That was the second event. The one that causes headaches when you think about it. But-But, keeping the world intact, sealing the rift in the 'bubble,' all of it, it took a toll. It took ... half."

"Of?" Willow prodded.

"Life. All life." The madwoman looked into the sky. "Half the people, half the animals, half the plants. It took a ruined world and made it worse." She sniffed, and her next words were barely a whisper, full of accusation towards herself. "All because I failed."

Willow was laughing now. It was either that or cry.

"Willow?" Mongrel pulled her closer.

"'Willow?!'" Lura laughed. "You call her a dog and she calls you a tree?" Lura shook her head, then muttered, "And people think I'm crazy. Oh god, does that mean one of you pisses on the other?"

Willow ignored the slight. "So you work for it to ... what?" Mongrel started to place her hand on Willow's shoulder, but she knocked it away. The young woman immediately felt sorry she had, but she continued in her tirade. "You work for it to keep it from having to kill half the world again?"

"Basically ... yes. If someone were to find out about the ritual, wonder a little too much why their head hurt when they thought about it, maybe decided to look into it further. Or if they draw the space-nasties' attention some other way, accidentally or otherwise? Magic is real, as I'm sure everyone here realizes by now. Throwing fireballs around or making it rain in the middle of a desert. Anything like that gets their attention? It could mean the end of the world. No more children, no more love, no more anything." She sighed and shifted a rock aside with her foot. "No more whiskey. We'd all be dead. That's why I do whatever it asks, so that it doesn't have to. It's a shitty life, but you probably figured that out already."

"That's why you ..."

"Came to your village." Lura nodded. "Because it wanted you to be another agent, Mrs. Tree. You were the one originally, but my boss changed its mind when your friend here seemed to have more spirit than you. So I came to your town and ruined your life. Because it told me to. Everything in my fucking life that I do is because it tells me to." She smiled sadly, sharp yellow teeth biting into her bottom lip. "You want revenge on me? Letting me live is worse than anything you could come up with. Every sad little fucked up miserable, horrible thing that I do is because it'll wind up ending the world if I don't do its bidding. That's why I killed--"

The knife was in Willow's hand as she lunged. Lura looked bored, not even standing to defend herself. Before Willow could take two steps she was pulled to the ground by Mongrel, denied her revenge by the person she loved most in the world.

"M, what are you doing?!"

"Willow, stop! Think!"

"You aren't buying this-this bullshit!"

"Willow, she's not lying!"

"Yes she is!"

"I'd smell it if she was!"

"Then-Then she's covering it up or tricking you or-or--"

"Kill me, little girl," Lura said dismissively, "and you'd end the world in a week tops." She shrugged. "It's debatable whether that would really be such a bad thing or not. But the alternative probably doesn't have strong booze and pleasure houses, so I think it's best to keep the world going a little longer." She wiped the sweat from her brow. "Fuck. Thirsty. You have anything to drink?"

Willow struggled against her mate's grip but the half-wolf was too strong. Eventually she tired, a scream of frustration spilling past her gritted teeth as she gave up her struggling.

"Don't let her get under your skin," Mongrel whispered. "You're better than that."

Lura slapped her knees with her hands. "This has been fun! Reminiscing about the good ol' days. Haven't done that in a while. They don't make apocalypses the way they used to, huh? Any other questions before I leave you two to your squalor? Please don't tell me you're still thinking about giving killing-little-ol'-me another shot. Having a building dropped on me and getting set on fire was exciting and all but I don't think it'll be as fun the second time around."

"Not for you," Willow sneered. "I'll enjoy every second of it."

Lura yawned.

"Is that why you're so much faster than me?" Mongrel finally asked. "Stronger? Because you work for that ... whatever it is?"

The strange woman simply shook her head.

"Then why?"

"Because the world needs me to be," she answered as if the explanation was that simple. When the pair gave no response she sighed and continued. "Gahreer are different than humans. We're wilder--obviously--more of an extension of the natural world than civilization. Like regular wolves. Gods below, I fucking hate regular wolves. Pretentious cunts."

Willow sighed. All the nonsense was making her weary. "What the fuck is a guh ... rear?"

"Gahreer." Willow was surprised when the answer came from Mongrel.

"M?"

"It's ... like I know the word, even though I've never heard it before."

Lura nodded. "'Werewolf' is a term the humans came up with. 'Gahreer' is what we've always called ourselves. I don't know where the word came from, but it ... feels right, y'know? We're supposed to be the offspring of some nature god and a human one or time or magic or who-gives-a-fuck. But just like the world can alter memories to try to protect itself, it makes gahreer what it needs us to be. Stronger, faster, smarter, and ravishingly beautiful, in my case." She smiled as if forgetting they both hated her. "Sometimes it makes people wiser, more seasoned. Or as big as a barn. I knew one that had her sex changed, to be what she really was, what she needed to be. I guess the world thinks I need to be stronger to be good at my job."

"Your job," Willow hissed in disgust.

"How long have you been doing ... your job?" Mongrel asked, likely afraid of the answer.

Lura blew air through her lips. "Well, the time I blew up the world I was younger than your angry friend here. I'd seen ... twenty winters I think? I don't even remember how long it's been since then. Within your grandparents' lifetimes, but probably when they were kids. So I guess fifty, sixty years ago? Maybe more, but that seems about right. The passage of time isn't really that big a deal for me."

"That would make you eighty years old?! Or more?!"

She shrugged. "I guess. So?"

"But you look the same age as us," Mongrel gasped. "Or younger. I guess that explains why you look the same as you did when ..." She swallowed, glancing at Willow. "You did when you came to our village."

Lura nodded. "It's the same with you. You look the same as the day we fought. Well ... I mean, minus the hair and the claws and dirty and crawling around like an ape. Damn, girl, you should take better care of yourself."

"Does that mean I'm ... we ..."

"Live forever? Yep. We heal from anything, even aging." She gave another half-feral smile. "Congratulations on being immortal. Your friend, however, looks like she's about to suffer a stroke any minute now."

Willow ignored the snipe. "How do you know that though? I've always heard werewolves ... gahreer ... are made that way by other werewolves. But Mongrel was turned because of your ghost friend."

"So was I. Doesn't seem to be a difference between us and 'natural' human-wolf-monster-things. She's definitely like me."

"She's nothing like you." Willow wanted more than anything to have the murderer lying dead at her feet by the end of the day, but was becoming more resigned to knowing that wasn't going to happen.

"Awww, that's adorable!" Lura stuck her tongue out at Willow as if they were childhood friends. "The way you stick up for her all the time! It's so sweet. She's such a lucky doggy. Stop glaring at me or I'll chew on your eyes."

"Y-You're sure?" Mongrel seemed more bothered by this new bit of knowledge than anything they'd heard that day. "You're sure I don't age? But Willow ..." Willow wondered what her mate was thinking about.

Lura leaned towards Mongrel and sniffed. "Yeah. No question about it. You smell immortal, just like me."

"Nothing smells like you." Willow spat.

The monster raised her arm and sniffed her armpit. "Mm. Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm a little ripe."

"That's not what I--"

"I know it's not what you meant. You were being a shit. Again." She rose on her bare feet, stretching her back and yawning. "This has been fun. I ... hope maybe this gives the two of you a little ... I don't know. Closure? Feels like a weak word." She sighed and seemed suddenly serious. "Go back home. Live in the woods somewhere. Away from all of this." She nodded towards Mongrel. "You can make her a werewolf too and live happily ever after until the bubble pops and the writhing horrors eat us all. And don't come after me again. This has been a fun talk and all, but attack me again and I'll eat your brains. Yummy-yummy, tummy-tummy. Besides, kill me and no more cuddle time for you or anyone else. I'm the main character. You're not. You're welcome."

"Bullshit." Willow rose to her feet and squared off against her, a mouse challenging a hurricane. "I don't care what nonsense you spew, I'll--"

"It's not nonsense." Mongrel crawled to Willow's side, then forced herself upright on shaky legs to wrap her arms around her. "It's not bullshit. I-I believe her."

"What?!"

"Willow ... let's just go. This is over." She nodded towards Lura. "You go that way, we go this way. We never meet again. Deal?"

"Mongrel--!"

"It's over." She dropped to all fours again and crawled past Lura towards the building they'd slept on. "I'll get our things."

"How can you just ... M? M!"

Mongrel said nothing as she reached the building and began to climb to the roof using handholds only she could see. Willow was soon left standing alone before the embodiment of all of her nightly terrors.

"Whatever you want to say," Lura said slowly. "Say. Whatever you've dreamt about saying for ... ten years? Twenty? However long. Say it. I won't get pissed and snap your spine or anything. I promise. You've been waiting to say it, I can tell. You've got the speech prepared, so take your shot and ..."

Willow walked past Lura as if she wasn't there. She wasn't worth the wasted words.

The wretch made a soft noise of surprise at Willow's action. Or perhaps she was impressed. Willow didn't care anymore. She waited for her mate to drop to the ground again before taking her backpack and bedroll from her. Willow dropped into a crouch, kissed the most wonderful person she'd ever hope to know on the lips, and walked with her side-by-side towards the nearest gate. Part of her hoped Lura would watch them as they left, but mostly she just wanted out of this place as fast as possible.

---

Willow was soon staring into a small campfire in the heart of a dead glade. Her love had managed to find a half-starved hare for their supper. Among the many things she adored about her mate, being able to sleep with food in her belly was one of them. Mongrel sat next to her, licking grease from the stringy meat from her fingers and palms. When she was finished she slipped her arm in between Willow's and leaned against her. Willow returned the hug, though her eyes could not escape the dying campfire.

"Listening to the crickets?" Mongrel asked.

Willow shook her head. There weren't any. Willow wanted to go home.

"Are you okay?"

Willow shook her head. "No. But I will be. I guess I'll have to be." They sat in silence until Willow gave a growl that rivaled any she had ever heard her partner make. "It's not fair."

"I know."

"She gets away with ... everything. Everything she's done. However many people she's killed. She gets away with it because a mad god told her to do it."

"I know."

"It's just ... I hate this fucking world."

"I don't."

"Why, Mongrel?! Look at what it's done to you! Look at what she and-and ... it, the ghost, the god, whatever, have done to you! How can you not hate this whole miserable, shit-stained world?"

"Because you're in it," the wolf-girl whispered. "Because you're in it and I'm sitting next to you."

Willow slowly let loose a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She tossed a few more branches onto the fire to keep it going as long as possible, then leaned forward to rest her chin on her knees. "We should get a cat."

Mongrel giggled. "W-What?"

"Two crazy hermit women living alone in the woods?" Willow shrugged. "Just seems like we should have a cat." Willow's fingers ran through the thick hair on Mongrel's forearm. She felt bad about subconsciously petting her mate like a dog, but she genuinely seemed to enjoy the affection. "Besides, it'll give me something to take care of while you're off hunting our supper."

"What makes you think the cat won't become supper?"

Willow bumped her mate with her shoulder. "You wouldn't eat my cat!"

Mongrel snickered. "I eat your cat all the--"

"Oh, shut up! Gods, you still have the maturity of a ten year old village girl." She poked at the fire with another branch. "Would you eat my cat?"

"Oh, gods yes! Are you kidding? I'm a dog, remember?"

"Wolf."

"Same difference as far as cats go. I'd tear it apart."

"Ew."

"Buuuut I'd hide the remains from you," Mongrel added encouragingly.

"That's thoughtful. Thanks."

"You're welcome." They were content to sit in silence for a moment before Mongrel whispered a simple, "Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Gods below," came a voice from the shadows. "Maybe I should've let you kill me after all."

Willow was on her feet in an instant. Mongrel was crouching next to her, growling and foaming at the mouth.

Lura strode from the shadows and plopped down next to the fire across from them as if she had been expected. "What's for dinner?" She sniffed. "Ooo, is that rabbit?"

"What ... are you doing ... here?" Willow nodded to Mongrel, who slunk away to circle around the new arrival, flanking her and preparing for a fight.

Lura yawned. "Waiting for you to put the knife down and offer me a bone or two. And reeeeeeally hoping you have some wine tucked away somewhere? I can even pay for it. Look at all these shinies."

She tossed a small leather sack at Willow's feet. The string wasn't drawn on the bag, and the pair watched as its contents spilled forth. In the light of the campfire they could make out that the bag didn't contain coins, rather an assortment of simple gray buttons. A few were stained red. In the center of the pile was a single golden tooth.

Mongrel crouched low, ready to pounce.

"That's got to be worth at least half a wineskin. Maybe a beer? Hmm? No? Nothing?" Lura shook her head. "Fuck. Could use some right now." She looked back and forth from one to the other. "Oh, come on. Sit down. If I wanted a fight you'd be dead by now." She stretched her arms and lay down on her side, closing her eyes as she lay her head on her arm. "Wake me up when it's dawn. Willow, you get first watch. Mongrel-girl gets second." The madwoman said their names as if testing the sound of the words. "And then Willow again because I'm tired and I hate her."

"Whrrrry?" Mongrel was having trouble getting words out, which only happened when she was starting to transform. "Whrrry arrrrre you here?"

"Because I have someone I want you two to meet."

"Want us to ..." Willow pointed her sword at Lura. "You want us to meet the fucking thing?!"

Lura simply nodded, although perhaps she was just snuggling her head into her arm. She seemed only half-awake.

"Get up and get the almighty fuck out of our--"

The woman was towering over Willow before she finished the order. Her hands were on her hips and a look of annoyance was in her eyes. Willow supposed she should be happy to not have her hands around her neck again. She was so damnably fast.

"People that drop buildings on peaceful sleeping women with hangovers don't get to make demands. You owe me a favor for not disemboweling your doggy girlfriend, so you are coming with me to meet my boss."

"Why?!"

"Because I asked nicely!" Her voice was a roar and her eyes were once again mad, as they had been on the day she had murdered Willow's family. She slowly leaned away, seeming once again less a monster and more a tired woman. "Or I was going to, anyway."

"Okay," came Mongrel's soft voice behind the pair. Willow's look of surprise was mirrored by Lura's own.

"Mongrel--"

"Okay, seriously, why do you keep calling her that?" Lura turned to look at the half-wolf, still approaching but no longer poised to attack. "Are you insulting her? Is it a nickname? A ... oh, gods below, is it a sex thing? Please tell me it's not a sex thing."

"It's her fucking name, now shut up." Willow peered over Lura's shoulder. "Mongrel? Why?"

"I ... want to see it," the she-wolf whispered. "The ghost or whatever it is."

"But what if it attacks, or remembers it wanted to send you off to kill someone, or-or ... There are a million ways this could go wrong."

"It's her name?" Lura asked absolutely no one. "How is that her name?"

"I just ..." A look of determination came over Mongrel's face, her yellow eyes reflecting the light of the fire. "I just need to see it."

Willow was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Okay." Her face was made of stone. "Then we go."

The laughter of a madwoman startled the both of them. Lura smiled as she picked a stray leaf from Willow's coat.

"The three of us together!" She clapped her hands as she giggled like a child being brought to the fair. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"