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Sticks & Stones Your Word Against His

(December 2nd)

There they were.

Again.

They were taunting him. He knew they were. What other explanation was there for the way they shoved their filth in his face? For a while, he'd believed they simply didn't have the common decency to hide their shame...and that he was just one of many unlucky enough to have seen it. But this was different. He was convinced, more and more with every passing day, that they were malicious. That this was purposeful. That they were acting with intent.

They would put themselves, not just on a public stage, but somewhere where they knew he, in particular, would see, and they would put on their little show. They would kiss. They would hug. And they would shove it down his and everyone else's throats. One clear, silent message...

...that they believed they could do whatever they pleased. And that Brandon couldn't stop them.

But the wolf had had enough. And he would stop them. He wouldn't be taunted and attacked, and simply let such offenses go. He wouldn't stand aside and allow them to ruin this school...to corrupt and defile it with their perversions. He would have them know that they were unwelcome here. He would see them gone.

And today, as they strode boldly by, paw in paw, parading through the cafeteria, triumphant at the tiger's return to school...Brandon stood. He knew his friends wouldn't follow. They couldn't understand. They'd lost interest. Their resolve had faltered. They were content to simply crack jokes and leave these perverts to their filthy ways. They were content to stand aside and do nothing.

But Brandon was not.

And in moments, he had crossed the cluttered cafeteria and intercepted the striped cat and his dog, "You two just can't help yourselves, can you?"

"Oh God, not this again," the husky, Elliot, sighed in exasperation. Feigned, no doubt: as if they hadn't baited the wolf here. "Go away, Brandon."

"Me?" he paused to scan the area. "But you're the ones who're somewhere you're not wanted."

"We were here first," Elliot argued...

...and Brandon agreed: "You were. You were over here, flauntin' your-"

"Flaunting??" the tiger, Hunter, cut him short. "How were we flaunting anything? By holding paws? You have got to be kidding me with this shit, Brandon!" Kidding? Of course he wasn't. They knew damn well what they were doing. "What do you want? What the fuck is it gonna' take to get you to leave us alone?"

The wolf tapped his chin, "Drop out? Switch schools?" and then snapped his fingers, "Oh! Ever think about home school?"

And in a roar that set Brandon's hackles to rise, Hunter laughed, "Look, it's cute how obsessed you are with us. Flattering, even. But we're not gonna' leave, just because you get a little sheath-tingle when you see us."

A blinding flash of rage washed over the wolf, "What did you just say!?" The nerve, to imply he was anything like them!

Hunter lifted his paws, palms forward, as if to calm the snapping lupine...though his words held quite the opposite intent: "Hey! Calm down, calm down. It's okay if you've got a little crush. I mean, look at us! Who wouldn't?" And he shrugged, "Of course, if you really wanna' get into our pants, all of this bully, machismo shit's probably not the best approach..."

Beside the tiger, his lithe little dog snickered under his breath. And Brandon was ready to pounce. For an instant, he felt himself rising to the balls of his feet. He imagined his fists shattering the fragile bones of the husky's muzzle. He pictured them both writhing in pain, paying the price for every dick they'd sucked, and for every otherwise innocent male they'd undoubtedly hurt and corrupted, in pursuit of their sick pleasures.

But he stopped. He breathed. And he smiled. He wouldn't let them win.

"You know what? You can make your little jokes all you want, but-"

"Jokes?" Hunter cut him off again. "What jokes? I'm serious. No one pays this much attention to somebody, unless they're interested."

The wolf felt his breath rise and his chest swell, but with a clench of his jaw, he pushed it down again. "No, no. Keep it up. Keep right on tryin' to make me mad. I'm not gonna' take the bait here, with all these witnesses. But keep in mind, kitten, there aren't always teachers around to protect you. And you two..." he shifted, looking right at Elliot, "...aren't always together."

Immediately Hunter sidestepped, blocking his view of the dog, "Don't you look at him!"

"I'll look at him all I want," and Brandon did just that. "I'll do whatever the fuck I wanna' do to him, in fact. You think you can be here to protect him, 24/7?" After all, he could bait this cat, just as easily as they'd baited him.

"Maybe if I put you in traction, right now, I won't have to be!" the tiger hissed and crowded the wolf...

...but Elliot stopped him, "Hunter! Don't let him goad you."

"No! Please do," Brandon begged with a lurid little smile. "Let's see how quick you come back from suspension this time! And how long I'll have Elliot all to myself."

But at that, Hunter backed away. Damn. He'd said too much: reminded the big oaf of the consequences. Too bad. He would have gladly taken a punch or two, to see these two separated. A few bruises, in the long run, would have been more than a fair price to pay for a break from their exhibitions.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the time to try again. In his peripherals, shades of brown and black were rushing upon him -- two figures -- and he turned. He recognized the spots. He'd once called this hyena, Mic, a friend. But the other one? He'd seen him around, but never caught a name. Or even a species, for that matter. Was he a German Shepherd? No. What kind of shepherd was so black?

Whatever kind of dog he was, though, he spoke first, "Hey!" snapping in Brandon's face. "We got a problem?"

As calmly as he could manage, the wolf looked the dog up and down. Definitely a shepherd of some sort. "A problem? I don't know, pup. Do we?"

"If yer threatenin' my friends, again? Yeah, we do."

"And just what are you gonna' do about it..." Brandon smirked, "...pup?"

The shepherd, though, chuckled and shook his head. "Ya' can call me a pup if it makes ya' feel better. But I ain't the one pickin' on somebody half my size to make myself feel big." His eyes shifted down, then back, "Don't get me wrong: I understand why ya' feel inadequate. I mean: it's jealousy, yeah? The boy's gotta' have a set twice the size of yers, after all!"

But Brandon simply shrugged, "Hey, who am I to argue? I'm sure you know what you're talkin' about. Probably seen 'em up nice and close, right?"

"Yer damn right I have! Done a lot more than just see 'em, too." With a dark smile, the shepherd leaned in close, nearly lowering his voice to a whisper, "Ya' ever taste a husky, by the way? I mean: I expected 'im to taste a lot like me, 'cause...a dog's a dog, right? But I got this salty, earthy taste -- in case yer ever interested," he winked, "whereas he's more...metallic and sweet."

Blinding rage. Metalling and sweet. Brandon's stomach turned. A knot rose in his throat. In his mind, he could see the shepherd's black muzzle rooting in under a white furred sack. He imagined the scent of it all. One he'd smelled before. Blind, moonless night. Weight on his back. Breath in his ear.

His paws clenched and his muzzle bent into a snarl. The shepherd's face became a wolf's. A bed creaked. But he was silent. Always silent. Even when the taste of copper tickled his tongue. Metallic and sweet.

Metallic and sweet.

The shepherd shrunk away, paws up. "Whoa! Gettin' all balled up, aincha?" And he grinned the devil's grin, "I'm not upsettin' ya', am I? Makin' ya' uncomfortable? Gettin' ya' all jealous, talkin' about all this dick yer not gettin' to suck?" And as quickly as he'd shrunk away, he crowded Brandon again, "Ya' gonna' do somethin' about it, sweetness? Cause, I mean...big bad wolf's all alone, ain't he? And there's what: four o' us? So whacha' gonna' do without yer friends?"

The wolf tremored, surprised he could even speak, "I don't need my friends to deal with a bunch of cock suckers."

"Oh come on, Bran," Mic's voice. He turned. Tunnel vision, with the hyena in his sights. "You expect us to believe you never sucked a little cock before?"

And Brandon simply growled. His fists so tightly clenched that his claws dug into his palms.

"What? I'm just sayin'...we all saw your uncle on the news, right?" His uncle. "So, I been meanin' to ask. Since I've never had the pleasure, but now that we all know you have..." Tony. "What exactly does a wolf taste like?"

Uncle Tony.

Blinding rage. Blind, moonless night. Not again. His feet sprung from the cafeteria floor. But someone had his arm. Tight grip holding him down. Weight on his back. Metallic and sweet. Never again...

~

"Okay. Tell me what happened."

"Well," Mr. Callaway began, "I was watching them, because this has become enough of a problem that I felt someone should keep an eye on it." The raccoon stood before his principal's desk, behind a closed office door. "As usual, something Elliot and Hunter were doing set Brandon off. I don't know what it was...but he has such a problem with the two of them being a couple, that it probably didn't take anything more than them standing too close to one another." Listening from behind that desk sat the imposing but gentle Principal Rivers: a Polar Bear with an unusual surname. "So he stormed up to them and started instigating, again. I moved closer...not to eaves drop, but to make sure that, if things looked like they were gonna' escalate, I could stop it." And beside and behind James Callaway stood another teacher: Mr. Chaney, a rotund little chipmunk and a witness to the events, patiently waiting his turn to speak. "Soon enough, Brandon managed to attract their friends' attention too: Michael Taylor and Donald Pierce. I couldn't quite make out what any of them were saying, but when I saw Brandon fuming and balling up his paws, I could tell everything was about to explode. And so I moved in just in time to grab his arm, mid-swing, before he could hit Michael."

"Mid swing?" Principal Rivers repeated...

...and James nodded, "Mid swing."

"So, then..." the polar bear let out a short sigh, "...he didn't actually hit anyone? No one hit him? This never came to blows?"

"No sir. I didn't let it," James shook his head. "But that doesn't change the fact that Brandon was harassing, bullying, and probably threatening these boys, again. Something needs to be done."

Principal Rivers leaned forward in a long, silent pause. He knew, before he even opened his muzzle that James would not like what he had to say, but...

"Unfortunately," he had no choice, "I can't really do anything if there wasn't an assault. Teenage boys argue constantly, and we can't waste our time fighting that. If it had been allowed to come to blows-"

"You're saying I should have LET it?" James interjected.

"No, that's not what-"

"That's what it sounds like," the raccoon cut his superior short, again. "It sounds like you're saying: if I wanted anything done about Brandon, then I should've just stood back and let this turn into a fight!" He shook his head with a breath, "Sir, I stepped in before there was any violence so I could protect these boys. And I mean all five of them! Because Brandon may have been the instigator, but he was still picking a fight with four guys, two of which are a good deal bigger than him. I stopped him from biting off a lot more than he could chew."

"I know you did, James," Principal Rivers granted.

"Good! Because I refuse to just stand back and let something like this escalate to violence, just so there'll be someone to punish."

"And I'm not asking you to, James."

"No," the raccoon scoffed, "you're just saying that there's nothing to be done about all of Brandon's threats and bullying. You're saying that we're helpless to stop this before it gets worse."

Principal Rivers paused again. He clasped his fingers in front of his muzzle, elbows on the edge of his desk. He understood James's outbursts. He sympathized. He agreed. If he allowed bullying to go unchecked, real violence was sure to follow...be it from the bullies themselves, or the reprisal of their victims. And one need only turn to the news to see how bad that could become...

But what could he do? Thanks to James, Brandon never struck anyone.

"Mr. Chaney?" perhaps his other witness could provide him an option. "Would you agree with Mr. Callaway's sequence of events?"

"No," the chipmunk shook his head...

...and James, clearly, couldn't believe what he'd heard, "No??"

Principal Rivers, though, held up a stern paw, enough to silence the angry raccoon, and then turned back to Chaney. Unfortunately, if there was another side to the story, he had to hear it.

"Where does your recollection differ, then?"

"It's just that...yes," Chaney began. "There was an argument between Brandon and these four boys. Maybe it had something to do with some of them being queer; I don't know. And yes, James here stepped in before it turned into a fight." He raised a quizzical brow, "But to imply that Brandon was at fault any more than the others...?"

"You don't think he was?" the polar bear asked...

...and Chaney shook his head. "I've never known Brandon to be a bully, and I definitely didn't see him bum rush these boys, looking to pick a fight. What I did see was him surrounded by four other guys, two of whom -- just like James said -- were much bigger than him. And I'd imagine he was more than a little intimidated."

"You've gotta' be joking..." James muttered, an angry chitter slipping from beneath his breath.

"James." Again, Principal Rivers held up a paw, though this time, it took a verbal reminder to silence Mr. Callaway. And once the raccoon had crossed his arms in indignant silence, the bear turned back to Mr. Chaney, "So you think he was trying to defend himself? And that that's why he took a swing?"

The chubby chipmunk though, just shrugged, "You know? I don't recall seeing him take a swing at all. James was a little closer, maybe he saw something I didn't. But, unlike that hotheaded tiger boy, last week..."

Mr. Chaney paused, as if for dramatic effect, first looking to James, and then back to their principal...

"...I never saw Brandon raise a paw."

~

"Right after school, then?" Donald asked.

"Right after," Mic nodded. "Think you can make it?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world! 'Specially not if Elliot'll be there," the German shepherd winked...

...and his friend just laughed, "He will be. He's gotten pretty good at skippin' out on his mom." Mic snapped his fingers, "Oh! I almost forgot! You know that Jeff kid Hunter and Elliot are always talkin' about? We're finally gonna' get to meet him, too."

"'Bout damn time, ain't it?"

"Beyond. And uhm..." the hyena leaned close with a wink, "I hear he's got a thing for knots."

"Oh?" Donald chuckled, "Sucks to be him, then."

"Huh?"

"Well, it's just...if I got anything to say about it, me and the only other knot at the party?" The shepherd flashed a wide grin, "We're gonna' be a bit indisposed."

And, again, Mic just laughed, "Gettin' a little hung up on Elliot, aren't you?"

"How could I not be?" Donald held up a finger, as if he had more to say, but then looked startled suddenly, and hurriedly glanced at his watch, "Shit! I gotta' get to class. Later, chuckles!"

All at once, the dog whipped around and dashed off down the hall, leaving his hyena friend to wave goodbye, "Have fun!"

But no sooner had Donald disappeared, than another voice caught Mic's attention. "Meek?"

And with a jolt, he turned to meet it: turned to see who had crept up on him. But, of course, it was just a formality. Only one person pronounced his name like that, and he already knew who he would see, before that white and green fur even came into view...

"Shorry. I mean..." Viri -- the green dyed, foreign exchange folf, whom Mic had so recently taken into a changing room at the mall -- stood before him, concentrating to pronounce the hyena's name correctly: "...Mic!" And as he did, a wide, proud smile split his muzzle...

...but it was a smile that the hyena couldn't return, as he nervously scanned the hall way, "Hey! Vir..." satisfied that no dangerous eyes were upon them, he finally looked his little friend in the eye, "What are you doin' here?"

"I go to shchool herre?" even through the accent, Viri's sarcasm was evident.

"No. No, I know that," Mic shook his head. "I mean: you know you can't be seen talkin' to me right now, right?"

And immediately, a dejected sadness washed over the folf's face, "Wh-why not? I tought we werre frriendsh..."

"We are, Vir. Of course we are," Mic placed a comforting paw on the boy's shoulder. "We just can't be...friends at school, right now. Thanks to Brandon, things are just way too tense, and I don't want you to get caught up in all of this."

"But..." despite the paw, Viri's face grew no more cheerful, "I don't have any otherr frriendsh, herre."

Doing his best, the hyena smiled his happiest, friendliest smile, "Well you do now! Just not at school, not until it's safer, okay?" And with a moment's thought, an idea occurred to him: "Look, you've still got my number from the other day, right?"

Viri nodded.

"Well I can give you everyone else's too. I'll text 'em to you." And he listed them off: "Elliot, Hunter, Donald, even this cat we know named Jeff. And I'm sure they'd all love to get to know you, too."

A bit of hope returned to the folf's eyes, "Rreally?"

"Really," Mic nodded as he finally let go of the boy's shoulder. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, okay? We've gotta' be careful for now. We can only hang out, away from the school."

At that, though, Viri's still solemn face scrunched up in thought: "But what about Donald?"

"Hmm?"

"Donald," he repeated. "He washn't...involved beforre. But now he ish. He didn't let Brrandon stop him frrom being yourr frriend. Why do I have to?"

"Because that was Donald's decision," the hyena explained. "And it's not my job to take care of Donald."

And suddenly, Viri's face broke out in the widest smile its little muzzle could contain, "But...it'sh yourr job to take carre of me?"

Damn. Mic could feel the burn of a blush rushing to his cheeks. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed! Did he really just say that? He didn't mean to. Or...or did he? He didn't intend for it to come out like that, sure. But he couldn't exactly say it wasn't true...

Besides, how could he take it back now? Not after it made the little folf so happy.

"Just...just go before Brandon or his friends see you, okay?" Barely restraining a smile of his own, Mic waved the boy away. "And make sure to call me after school. We're all plannin' to get together, tonight. Maybe you can join us."

And through his new, unbroken smile, Viri answered only with a blush of his own, and a hyper little nod before scampering away...

~

(December 3rd)

Tuesday morning.

Coffee in paw, James Callaway padded slowly down a flight of stairs, from the school's promenade to its commons. A few students ambled around nearby, barely awake, and one in particular, sat sleeping against a wall. And James could sympathize; even with Monday and its excitement behind them, he still wasn't ready to be back from Thanksgiving break. And at such an early hour, before the busses had even dropped off the bulk of the student body, he definitely couldn't blame these early-risers for feeling the same way.

In fact, were it up to him, he would've been napping at his desk, waiting for his phone's alarm to wake him up, warning him to be ready for the students soon flooding through his door. But today, he had been beckoned elsewhere. In the ten minutes since he'd arrived, three other teachers -- one of them Scott -- had all informed him that Mr. Rivers wanted him to come straight to his office when he arrived.

And so, down the stairs, through the commons, and to that very office he went...

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked as he peeked in through the bear's open door.

"I did, James," his principal met him with a friendly nod. "Come in. Close the door."

James did as he was asked, before guessing: "This is about what happened yesterday, with Brandon, right?"

Principal Rivers nodded again. "I spoke to other witnesses. Students, mostly. And even taking into account the bias inherent in the statements from Hunter and his friends..." he smiled a wary little grin, "...it seems your story has been corroborated."

"I knew it would be," the raccoon responded confidently. But before he could say anything more...

...his principal's wary smile faded, "However, my paws remain tied. There's very little we can do, considering Brandon didn't assault the boys, and considering both sides were heard leveeing insults."

"I know. You told me as much, yesterday," James simply brushed the bad news aside. He'd expected no less. "But sir...we have a bigger problem."

"We do?" the polar bear tilted his head.

"Chaney," James explained as he stepped closer to his principal's desk. "My side's been corroborated, right? So it should be pretty clear, then, that Chaney is a liar and a homophobe. He's letting his biases get in the way of protecting our students."

With a sigh, though, Principal Rivers just shook his head. "We can't prove that, James. He could argue that he simply interpreted the situation differently or...looked away as the punch was being thrown."

"You can't tell me you'd believe that."

"No. But the fact of the matter is: even if we could prove it, there are no laws against it in this state." The bear held up his paws as if in defeat, "Legally...I can't do anything about it."

And James let out a huff of laughter, in disbelief, "You're kidding."

"I'm not. What could I do? Fire him? I'd be accused of wrongful termination. He hasn't broken any laws."

"Laws!?" the raccoon snapped. "What does that matter? He's endangering our students!"

"James..." calmly, Principal Rivers motioned to the chair before his desk, "...take a seat."

And, though far from calm, himself, James nodded and sat down.

"Are you gay?" the polar bear asked, directly...

...and, though with a moment's hesitation, James nodded, "...I am."

"I could fire you."

"What!?" the raccoon nearly came up from his seat...

...but Principal Rivers didn't flinch, and in a calm and metered voice, he explained: "Right now, just because you told me that. I could fire you."

"Are..." tremoring from rising anger, James asked, "...are you threatening me?"

"Quite the opposite," the polar bear shook his head, "I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?"

"James, let me make this very clear. This state doesn't protect you. And it doesn't protect your students. Being gay, or bi, or transgender...none of it's outlawed, like it was decades ago. But it still isn't protected, either. The law says that I can discriminate against you in any way I want, short of breaking another law -- such as assault or theft -- and that I'll have done nothing wrong." The principal paused to clarify: "I wouldn't. You know me better than that. But what I'm saying, James, is that you're fighting a losing battle. You can't prove Chaney is doing anything wrong. And even if you could...it's not illegal."

James relaxed. His fists unclenched, his tremors subsided, and his breaths steadied. For a moment, it sounded as if his job were on the line. As if he'd been wrong to trust Mr. Rivers. Luckily, that was not the case. But while he was relaxed...

...he was still far from calm. "But we're not talking about denying someone a wedding cake! Or a job...or anything else. We're not talking about discriminating against adults. We're talking about students. We're talking about kids, who are being put in danger!"

"Yes. We are."

"And you're telling me that doesn't matter? That children aren't even afforded some sort of protection?" The raccoon motioned toward the door behind him and the campus beyond, "This is a school. They're forced to be here; they don't have a choice. They should be able to be safe inside these walls!"

Principal Rivers drew in a slow breath, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. The room fell silent for a long moment, as his eyes lingered on the desk before him. And James waited. Waited to see how he would respond. What argument he could possibly make...

"Let me tell you a little story," finally, the bear began. "My cousins have a child. His name used to be Michael, like that hyena you're so fond of. But now her name is Erin." He paused, looking the raccoon in the eye, to let that statement sink in. "Her parents supported this decision, and not that my opinion mattered, but so did I. If this was who she felt she really was, then she should have every right to express it, and, when she's old enough, even the right to get the surgery, if she so chooses." He tapped his fingers on his desk as he went on, "But the problem was...she wanted to express it at school. I thought this was a terrible idea. Not because it was wrong, but because I'm an educator...and I know how what children and teenagers are like. But his parents-" he winced, "Damnit, I'm doing it again. HER parents supported that decision, too. They believed that it was a small enough school, in a nice enough neighborhood, and that she had plenty of supportive friends. So, in the end, everything would be fine. I knew they were wrong; I expected the students to be horrible. So I warned them, and they prepared for the worst. But what none of us expected...was the faculty." He shifted in his seat, leaning forward over the desk, "They forbade it all. They said that 'he' couldn't return to school until 'he' dressed and acted appropriately. My cousins fought it, and I even came to their defense as an educator. But it all failed." He shook his head through a dark, little laugh, "And you know what the worst part was? See: I expected the faculty and the school board to argue that it was a distraction...that it 'disrupted the educational environment.' Or that it would open the door for other students to wear whatever they pleased. Or even that it would be too dangerous for Erin, herself, because of student backlash. But they didn't mention any of those things. Instead, they compared it to supporting teenaged alcoholism, or to allowing drug use on campus," he broke into a deep, rumbling growl, before calming himself, again. "My cousins gave in. They made Erin dress like she was still Michael, and sent her back to school. And we all held our breath, hoping that the school would at least protect her from being bullied..."

"But they didn't...?" James asked softly.

"No. And in the end, their only choice was to pull her out, completely."

It was disgusting. And the raccoon, to say the least, was angered by the tale. But too disturbed to rage. And with a sigh, he murmured an almost apologetic: "That's terrible."

"Yet legal," his principal added...

...and he asked, "But how??

"Because far too many legitimately see it that way. They see any form of aberrant sexuality as something wrong...something dangerous and corruptive that other children should be protected from and never exposed to." Principal Rivers swung his arm in a grand, sweeping motion, "You see it all over the country, James. Hyper violent television shows are everywhere. 'Normal' heterosexual behavior is displayed in blatant and garish ways, in movies and music videos...to an extent that would have been scandalous, if not illegal, less than two decades ago. And it's all more and more accepted by the day." He shook his head, "And we could debate the merits or faults of that social change. But if two males kiss on screen? Uproar. Boycotts. Newsworthy headlines. Discussions over the damage being done to our children and our country's moral fiber." He tapped his desk as he concluded: "There are those who legitimately believe being LGBT is worse than being a drug addict, a thief, or a murderer. And not only do we live in a state full of such people..."

"...but one where the law agrees." James finished the sentence.

"I wouldn't say it agrees. If it agreed, being gay would still be illegal." The bear sighed, "But, at the very least, it turns a blind eye. It supports their right to not just feel that way, but to act on those feelings."

And turning the conversation, finally, back to the subject at paw, James asked: "And that's how this would be, too?"

Instead of offering a simple yes or no, though, the principal offered an analogy: "Imagine Hunter were doing meth...and someone were picking on him for it. Could you come to me or the school board and argue for his right to do so? Or argue that others should let him do it in peace? Because, in this state, you might as well."

But the raccoon heard only two words: "School board?"

"James. No!" his principal's eyes eyed shot open wide. "That's not what I meant. That's not a good idea."

As a professional formality, James asked: "Are you telling me not to?"

"I'm asking."

"But, as my boss..." he clarified, "...are you saying I can't?

The bear took in a deep breath, and flashed a pleading stare, "As your friend...I'm suggesting you don't."

But James met it only with a soft smile, "Thank you...for being a friend."

The raccoon stood without another word, turning and reaching for the door to leave. And as that door swung open...

...he heard one final sigh, "I'd wish you luck. But you're going to need a miracle."

~

And Sibirskaia continues...

* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist

If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *

And here begins the final 10 chapters of Sibirskaia. The thirty chapters of AWB & The Masters are behind us, and now so are 20 of Sibirskaia itself. Odd that nothing seems to be even CLOSE to resolving itself, eh? Yet the end is approaching. Perhaps James is about to change that, though. After all, he does seem to have a brand new (perhaps ill conceived) plan!

Of course, there's still so much more to deal with than some school bullying and a bigoted teacher. What will come of the divorce? Of Aaron's job? Of Elliot's custody? Of Elliot & Hunter's open relationship and growing group of playful friends? Of Mic and Vir's new 'friendship'? And what of one of our villains, Brandon? I think it's pretty clear, with this chapter's little break down, why he has such a problem with gay people. But how much of a threat does that really make him to our heroes? Or even to himself? And how might his psyche and the recent arrest play in to the larger story?

Nine chapters left to find out!

Anyway, thanks for reading! I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, add me on skype, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com

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See you around for the next 9 chapters of Sibirskaia!