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"Why do you wear that mask, fox?"

Slagar touched the cloth over his ruined cheek and said "My own reasons, sire."

"And what may they be? Tell me."

"Deception. Disguise. Many reasons, sire." Slagar kept his gaze steady on the mouth of the statue, and caught a brief glimpse of a gleaming eye.

Malkariss was silent for a long moment, and then said "Come up here. Nadaz, snuff that torch."

In darkness, Slagar climbed up to the mouth, finally finding the great stone fangs and hauling himself up onto the tongue. A warm presence was beside him. The living Malkariss. Unsure what to do, Slagar remained still until he felt paws on his face. He pulled away with a snarl, and a hiss echoed it. "Stay still, fox! I'm entitled to see who I'm employing! Nadaz, if he tries to run, stop him!" Slagar remembered the army of rats outside and stilled again.

The unfamiliar paws crawled over his face, claws sliding into the eye and mouth openings of his mask and brushing the scar tissue beneath. Malkariss explored further until he found the fastenings, and the mask soon slid off, leaving Slagar's face exposed to the probing paws. He felt nothing but pressure on the ruined half of his face, and that only faintly, contrasting with the rough claws combing his fur on the unharmed side. Wetness touched his chin and he realised Malkariss' claws had trailed through the saliva which dripped from the paralysed side of his mouth; soon they pushed inside his mouth and ran along his lips and teeth, up the curve of his eternal fixed grin. He shivered, feeling violated, angry... curious.

Slagar reached out in the dark and before Malkariss realised it he had clasped his paws over the ferret's face. Both froze, Malkariss' paws still on Slagar's scarred face, Slagar grasping the flattened snout and protruding tongue of the polecat, claws pressing into the sagging jowls. He shifted closer and was able to sense the warmth and scent outlining the repulsively bloated body.

Malkariss' grip loosened a tiny amount, and Slagar returned the favour, each slowly and cautiously releasing the other, still braced for an attack. A horrible wet gurgling emitted from the polecat's throat, and Slagar realised it was a laugh. "Any other beast would be slain for that, fox. But I suppose your continued presence is acceptable for now."

It wasn't friendship, far from it, not even really liking, and Slagar wasn't sure what to call it, but he understood the feeling. It was reassuring to know he was not entirely alone in his reasons for remaining hidden. He reached out again, this time to clasp Malkariss' paw.