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Dear me,

The summer is over. I wish it wasn't, but it is. They will be able to reach me now. Nowhere will be totally safe; except my apartment, and that court room. The eye of the media storm that has been squatting in town since the first hearings this summer is that court room.

Gordon Johnson, the head football coach of Whittleton University, has been formally charged with the murder of a college student named Logan. That was all the first headlines said about him, but Logan was more than that to me. He was the reason I made it through last spring. He was the reason I had escaped that night with my life. Only Walt had any idea of how much that otter had meant to me; still meant to me.

Logan had no family, so it fell to me to spearhead efforts to convict that monstrous bull. Of course, the SMCU is working with local police to do most of the work, but as far as the media is concerned, I'm the figurehead of the prosecution.

I'm pressing additional charges for an attempt on my life, involuntary size reduction, abduction, and so on. I could care less about these charges really; as long as he's convicted of murder in the end. But that will be the hard part.

There are no pictures or videos of the party. The case will have to ride on whatever can be admitted from examining the scene, a series of DNA tests that aren't finished yet, the autopsy, the eyewitness testimony of a small group of people from the party, and eventually me. This seemed like a lot to go on at first, but it had taken all summer just to get Mr. Johnson to give a DNA sample, and there had been other setbacks.

The autopsy had been inconclusive on the cause of death. They couldn't identify where the huge cut in Logan's chest came from, and the samples taken from the cut and his claws and mouth had yet to be analyzed. The number of people willing to testify had been touchingly large at first, but they had dwindled as time went on.

It doesn't help that Mr. Johnson spends a lot time gathering public sympathy while the case stalls. He's always been good at interviews, and he treats this as if it's another round of accusations of corruption in the athletics department.

I don't know how he can be so cold. Each dismissive comment is salt rubbed into the hole in my heart. I'll get him if it kills me, and some of his supporters would be more than happy to oblige.

He's always put up a façade as a tough, fatherly figure. The football team is completely behind him, and with it virtually the entire athletics department and over 75 percent the student body. Most of the rest are undecided on the issue. I know I would have been one of these skeptics, but that doesn't make the prospect of trying to get their support any more appealing.

I just wanted to grieve in peace during the summer; so I kept my family distant. My parents were still stunned that I had turned out gay, and most of my siblings were very busy during the summer and fall anyways. It helped that we didn't have to worry about paying for college or my apartment.

This is the other major goal I have right now: to find out who's supporting Walt and me from the shadows. The day I almost walked off the roof of the library was the day I found out that Logan's fur markings were not as unique as we'd thought. And they were mine now; one last gift. A permanent reminder of him; a way to escape even as he couldn't that night.

Walt had shown me what he could do his own set of markings; he'd used them to stop me from throwing everything away at my lowest point. I finally looked closely at him that day, and I liked what I saw; a lot. But that is a dead end. We're friends now, but Walt is already spoken for. He has Alice.

Alice is the star of the girl's tennis team, and doing very well with her studies to become an MD. She's a little shorter than me, and a fit, fiery vixen with storm grey eyes. The soft fur of her paws, hands, and the tip of her tail is eggshell white; the tips of her ears are jet black; the rest of her is a dark red-orange. Alice is a friendly, energetic extrovert. She's one of the skeptics, and is trying to convert more of her teammates to that viewpoint. I suppose I wouldn't have done much more than that if I was in her position, and I could at least count on her to keep her team under control.

But I haven't really described Walt yet, have I? He's a king cheetah; all tan fur on the sides and back, and blotchy black spots, with a trio of black lines running down the center of his back, and six black rings near the end of his long tail. His front is a creamy white, with a matching fluffy tuft on the end of his tail; and his fur is short and coarse all around. I love the feel of it, but rarely find an excuse to touch him. He has piercing golden eyes. He's a head taller than me, and like most of his kind he's built to sprint fast. He certainly keeps himself fit.

Naturally, he's on the track team, and word had been that Mr. Johnson wanted him to try out for the football team this year. His goal is to become a pharmacist, and he's a pretty good student. But he's told me his adopted father wants him try out for the Olympics track team someday. He's quieter than Alice; a classic introvert, but when we're alone he's more open. He's also a paid volunteer in the Safe Shrinking Initiative program (I know, creative title right?) of the SMCU, and the one in charge of watching over me while the case is active.

I have to struggle to try and hide how much I want him every time he looks at me. But as I said before, he's already got someone, and probably perfectly straight anyways. That would be my luck right now. But at least we get to chat often; I see him at least once a day, even when I don't leave the apartment.

We've also managed to find a quiet clearing in the forest north of campus to experiment with our hidden powers; if you could really call them that. I still don't have much control of 'super barking', but I've discovered that I can change my fur color by thinking about it, and sometimes without thinking about it. I also learned why Walt doesn't proudly display his ability. He can only use it for a few seconds at a time, and it burns a lot of energy. You should see him eat when he's used it a lot. Oh wait, you have; because you're me.

We'd also discussed what we knew about our mysterious benefactor several times in that hidden clearing, but we made no headway figuring it out. Whoever that well-dressed Doberman worked for had already decided my plans for the fall, though. My apartment was paid for through next summer, and the university informed me that they had a blank check for whatever I classes I decided to take and books I needed.

I wanted a change of pace anyways. I'd spent most of the summer hiding away in agonizing grief, but I'm feeling better lately. I've been getting back into a routine, and it thankfully includes frequent meals out with Walt and sometimes Alice or even Steven.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot Steven. He's the tech expert for the local branch of the SMCU:SSI. I vaguely knew him before from the department of computer science. He's a grumpy, nosy little brown ferret with a special love for sarcasm. Not unpleasant necessarily, just trying to deal with at times.

I think that covers just about everything. I should wrap this up; Walt's coming stopping by to get me on the way to dinner at Chili's.

Here's to a busy future,

Aaron