FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He felt her cool hands on his bare chest. Breezy, feathery fingers dove in his chest ruff, sliding down his ribs, in tender caresses. Up, against the hair, over his neck and then, shoulders as well. Higher up too. He lifted his head a bit, exposing throat and folding his triangle ears back. Surrendering himself. She breathed in his face with flavours of cypress, genista and fresh, invigorating humidity. A salvation from the heat of July. He kept his eyes closed, as if she ordered him to. As if she was afraid that at that moment, so ethereal, he could finally see her. There, on the branch, in a warm, shady virescence of tree tops, sitting in his lap and embracing his muzzle with her long palms. Like a mirage amongst the afternoon's rays slipping through the leaves. She never talked, yet only with her he felt such connection. Such understanding.

"Finn!" He jumped on the branch, startled at the sound of his name. Luckily trees usually have more than one branch, so on the tree he remained. Down below, Bryce was standing, gazing intently at him. A smile upon his canine muzzle.

"Enjoying yourself there? Your brothers are working their fingers to the bone on the fields, and you do what? Hanging on a tree like some sloth."

"Old man had me go collect some herbs," answered Finn stretching himself.

"Aaand? You found them up there?"

Finn smiled.

"I was just going to give them to him."

"And you took the wrong way?" Bryce snickered.

"And what about you?" Finn jumped down to the ground with grace fitting a wolf. "You too, I see, are bothered by lack of activity."

"Exactly the opposite," the shepherd showed him his tongue, "Mother said she's running out of fish in the market."

Finn didn't pay attention to the net rolled over his friend's shoulder before.

"They often run out recently," he noted, "Not the first time this week you are going fishing. Come on, I'll help you."

Bryce only shrugged and together they headed towards the stream.

"Because there's pretty fair traffic on the market. I don't recall seeing that many people in the village before. Merchants, craftsmen, even soldiers sometimes come round the inn. But oh, well...," he glanced at Finn with a mocking smirk, "...how could you know that? You spend all your days roaming around the woods or playing witchcraft with that old quack."

The wolf thought he heard a tinge of resentment in his friend's voice. But he didn't ponder about it.

"Of cooourse..." He sent the dog a blow to the shoulder. "Slaine is a healer, not a magician. Besides it's all rubbish."

"How so?" Bryce snorted. "Then what about the folks who spit fire on the harvest festivals every year?"

Finn glanced at him with a rather pitiful smile.

"But you did notice they take fire from torches, right?"

"Exactly! They blow it in their noses and then spit it out," the shepherd explained with a sensible expression on his muzzle, clearly pleased with himself. All the wider smile appeared on Finn's muzzle as well.

"It's the booze they spit, you goof! Slaine showed me once himself..." the moment he said it, he recalled to bite his own tail for it.

"See, my fellow? This is exactly the point where we're back to him being a charlatan!"

Finn gave up on presenting his arguments over again. It would be a lost battle anyway. And less amusing.

They walked in silence for a while, surrounded by the aura of the sunny summer. From the azure sky-terrace star's bright face was glaring around the countryside, only sparsely hiding behind the alabaster curtains of clouds. Among the trees on the woods edge, a flatland belted with a ring of short hills, could be seen. A colorful sea of grass waved with the wind, shimmering with the magenta and whiteness of oleanders, the crimson of poppy flowers and the feerie of different shades of green. Over the fragrant meadow's surface, in search of blossom shoals, flitted bugs and smaller birds, alighting in their chalices now and then, drinking their nectar. Finn feasted his eyes. Bryce feasted upon victory in their banter. It was time to fill the net as well.

They dove into the grass easily reaching their waists in direction of the cypress-clad hills. Somewhere amongst them, in a small, shallow ravine, a rapid stream was writhing. Milltail, that's how they called it, was the main source of water and fish for the village. And, of course, it powered the village's mill, hence the name. A damp whisper of the water was reaching their ears already.

"How much fish do you need?" Asked the wolf when they got there.

"How should I know?" Bryce shrugged his broad shoulders. He wasn't as tall as Finn, but a good bit stouter than him. "The more, the merrier, I guess."

"Can I take some if we're lucky?"

"Ay. If we are." They picked a convenient place on the bank and Finn nimbly, dry-shod, got across the stream through the rocks.

"Any special occasion coming?" The shepherd asked. Finn only smiled.

"Mother expects dad any day now. And Hogan and Jorg are too busy working in the fields, so all the preparations are on our shoulders," he explained.

The shepherd started to unroll the fishing net. His long, black and tan fur shimmered in the sun. He was already panting from the heat.

"It's great, isn't it?" Bryce smiled.

"Yeah..." The wolf let himself get lost in his thoughts. He certainly missed him. With the bond they had it had always been hard when father was leaving to trade in other villages and castles. Once he even took him along. He was the only one of the siblings, who gained that privilege. Finn didn't remember much from that adventure, ten springs back. Just a few images from the recent, would seem, childhood. However, he kept that feeling of excitement accompanying his first glance upon the city. Upon the high walls, tenements, the market, the town hall... And thousands of people of different species on the streets.

"Finn...?"

"Y-yeah?" He met the amused look of his friend's brown eyes. Bryce tilted his head a bit and was regarding him intently with his brows and ears raised.

"I asked for how long you haven't seen him. When did he leave? A month ago?"

"Three."

"Oh... Doesn't the time fly quicker recently? CATCH!" the dog threw him one end of the net. He caught the seine and begun to weight the bottom edge.

"So it appears... you noticed that too?" Finn asked in return. The shepherd, as usually, only shrugged and didn't say anything. He frozen for a moment though, as if reflecting upon their mutual observation.

"Since we already speak about my father..." Finn wasn't sure he wanted to bring the subject up, "I remember him saying something along the lines: As long as you're a child, small things please you. When you grow up, there's never enough time for them."

Bryce was looking at him, curious.

"I doubt I understand it right, but maybe that's this... I don't know how to call it... dejection?"

"Umm... what?"

"I feel gloomy."

"Oh, yeah, I see. You and your fancy words... " Bryce shook his head. "Well, you had always been gloomy, so I don't see what's wrong."

"Thanks. That helps a lot."

"Hey, I tell you something," said Bryce, malicious sneer on his muzzle, "You are boooored. Only ever scurrying over the hills and through the forest, seeking for this healing weeds, and then you disappear in that stag's hut and he teaches you. And you breathe in all that herbal fumes and who knows how does this work for your poor head?"

"Allright, friend," the wolf stopped him, trying to stifle the chuckle, "but you know that is my place. I'm Slaine's apprentice. I'm to take his place as the village healer. And among the village elders."

"See?" Bryce remarked, "You should do something for fun! Come to the inn one evening. Have some beer, talk with folks. With me. We're almost adults. In no time they will have us taking woman and siring children. Enjoy the youth before life throws even more responsibility your way."

"Oh, come on!" Finn repulsed, suddenly slightly irritated. "Not so fast. I'm not ready for this. I'm not in a hurry. I can't really picture this... you know. Finn the husband. Finn the father..."

"Hey...?"

Finn raised his eyes to look at his friend. Bryce smiled understandingly.

"Calm down. It's alright," he assured him. "If this is of any comfort to you, then honestly... I feel pretty much the same. I don't think this is any good for me either."

The wolf ceased handling the net for a while and tilted his head with curiosity.

"You... really think so?" He asked, not entirely without suspicion.

"I do. I don't know anymore. It's all just somehow... boring. Tame. Just look at my father," the shepherd waved his paw towards the village hidden far behind the trees. "Every day, bright and early he tends the pigs. Then feeds the chickens. Then to the fields. Only the seasons change. Plow, sow and harvest. I help, but in a while I will have to take his place. And do the same things. And I don't want to, Finn." The shepherd lowered his eyes and weighed his end of the fishing net. A while later the web of ropes flashed into the water and Finn could sit on the streambank, beside his friend.

"What do you want then?" he asked with gentle voice.

"I don't know..." Bryce sighed. He flattened his pointy ears against his head and gazed sadly into space. They sat like that for a longer while. In silence.

Finn stared on the crystal clear, troubled water. It stared back at him with his own, blurry visage. Young, white, slim and tall. And for sure, with confusion on his face, invisible on the surface of the water. What should I say?

For some time now this moments of awkward silence had interrupted their conversations. And he felt uneasiness. As if all those years of friendship were somehow... out of date. Great, he thought. The older we are, the less we can just talk honestly. At that moment he felt Bryce's eyes on himself. When he looked right, he saw that same... not sad, he didn't really know what expression on Bryce's face.

"Do you remember how you told me 'bout the world?"

This particular question surprised the white wolf. Indeed, from his mentor, Slaine, he got to know many interesting things about the world. His father too often mentioned the wonders he had seen while traveling with caravans. Finn sometimes entertained his fellows with these stories, but now it was rather a thing of the past, time when he hadn't kept away from the rest so much. Usually they didn't believe him anyway.

"Yeah, but... you remember it?"

"Well, you see," Bryce mused, "I've always dreamed about it. I mean, since that first time I've heard about all this things from you... and I've never heard so much amazing things before! That when you go to the west, you will finally come back to where you started from. About ships... And a desert! - the shepherd perked up a bit - A desert! I can't imagine that. All the horizon in the sand! Like a giant beach...

Finn smiled, taken by his dog friend's elation.

"Yes, only without a sea."

Bryce waved his paw.

"Whatever! But that view! I would love to see it someday. I want someday to find myself so far away, as I've never been before."

"I understand you," assured him the wolf. He himself loved to... well, he couldn't really name as travels his little escapades to the woods surrounding Raygne, but nevertheless, he loved being on the run, discovering the world around. Even if not that far-away from the village. Anyway, he liked to imagine he was hundreds of miles away.

"No wonder!" Remarked the shepherd, his excitement not ceasing. "Everyone says you relish your wanders after your father. Oh, your old man must have seen life in his travels!"

"You know... how about that... I will come round the inn every now and then, but I will take you on my wander at least once," Finn proposed. "Would you like that?"

Bryce's eyes immediately widened and his ears stood almost straight.

"Really? Now that's the Finn I know and love!"

"Well," he coughed, "it will be nice to have your company. And I can teach you some useful things. But..." he frowned, "why didn't you say anything? We could have done something like this long ago."

Bryce pinned his ears somewhat.

"I wanted to. Very much. But... eh... you know... lately..." the dog clearly was in two minds about what he was going to say.

"Just say it." Finn leaned a bit to catch the glance of his friend's brown eyes.

"Well, it's just always... since I remember, you have rather been keeping away from the others. Keeping your distance."

"Y-yes, it's true." Finn lowered his ears as well. "You know I don't like crowds," he added, already knowing where Bryce was going with that. He noticed. Well, of course, he did. I'm an idiot.

"...there," Bryce continued. "So I just... don't want you to think that I'm reproaching you, but you just say it a lot and... " he scratched his head nervously, "I've always thought it has to be this way. That it's just you and the others. And it's alright. I just never have thought I'M amongst these others... and lately..." With that out the shepherd let go of breath that he was holding. He didn't have to say anything more. After a while he gathered the courage to look into the wolf's eyes.

Finn could see a trace of anguish in them, although in that moment he didn't put his finger on it. But he knew well the dog had to muster some courage to confess it. He've never really talked about his feelings. Just expressed them, mostly laughing and all in all, acting straightforward. To the point, Finn sometimes forgot his friend was an adolescent lad, just like himself. What was left unsaid, still existed and often weighed that much more. Feelings? That word dismayed him. And maybe for the first time in their considerably short, but already a bit eventful lives, his friend opened up before him like that. And Finn was sorry. But how Bryce had to feel? The wolf had been avoiding him for quite some time now. And today he, maybe by accident, or maybe not, gave into temptation and admitted that all the efforts he had made, he'd made in vain. I can't avoid him anymore. Not if I don't want to lose what I'm fighting to preserve. But I need to lie in my teeth for it.

"I..." It was hard to do. Bryce's look was so uncertain, frightened even, that he felt even worse. But the dog was waiting. "I'm sorry that you've felt this way. I... bugger..." it was his time to seek for words. "You are right. I'm like that. But BELIEVE me. You're NOT among the others."

The dog was silent. He didn't seem convinced.

"It's true I avoided you," Finn lowered his glance for a moment. It IS the truth. "But it was because of the reason we talked about. Initiation and all this... it's just a little overwhelming... Well..." he sighed, "actually it's very overwhelming. That's why... I just wanted to run away as much as I could. I wanted to be alone. To sort this out."

Well, I sorted this out just fine, didn't I? he thought bitterly.

Thankfully Bryce's expression calmed down a bit, his triangular ears rising somewhat. But Finn had to conquer a smile now.

"Listen," Bryce wanted to tell something, but the wolf silenced him with a gesture.

"You are my best friend. No matter that the only one, to be honest," he said, smiling gently and placing his hand on one of the shepherd's broad shoulders. His black fur was nice to touch. "Of all these rascals and... adolescents," here he grimaced theatrically, which already pulled the corners of shepherd's mouth in the desired direction, "you are the only one who is really close to me. We are friends, Bryce," he assured, squeezing his arm to add the force and meaning to his words. "We are friends."

At these words Bryce finally brightened, outright regaining his comfort and shine in his eyes. As if this awkward conversation didn't happen at all.

"Thank you, I... it means a lot to me."

"To me as well, Bryce. I'm sorry you've felt this way. Now even more I promise you, after our ceremonial entering the circle of true men," he said ironically, making the dog burst with laughter, "...we are definitely going on a long journey. Maybe to the very seaside. We can't go to any desert, but at least that's what I can do to make it up to you."

"Ah, come here, my crony, you overthinking bastard," and before Finn could react, the dog grabbed him into a hug and ruffled his head fur. And it felt much too good for the wolf's comfort.

The catch wasn't impressive, but the boys couldn't complain. The net filled with fish they had tied to the broken branch, which they tossed on their shoulders. Finn had picked four ripe perches for his family and in good moods, chatting, they set off towards the village.

The sun mercilessly burned their backs, shoulders and necks. White wolf's fur reflected the sun rays like a snow and yet he had to hang his tongue from his muzzle. He couldn't even imagine how Bryce must have felt, even in his summer coat. They were hardly halfway to the village and already his black and tan fur glistened with sweat and he was panting like a forge bellows.

Finally they got through the forest surrounding Raygne and descended towards the settlement.

The main road cut through a placid vale almost in half. On both sides crowded peasant's homesteads crowded. Straw thatched roofs shined brightly in the sun and above them, in the centre, rose the stony tower of the temple. A crossroad over there was a natural place of celebrations of all the important events. And since most required proper rituals, an inn had been raised nearby, as close as possible without annoying the priests. It turned out to be most convenient for everyone who wanted to see them, as they spent much of their time there, not in the sanctum. One of the following owners named the inn "The Chapel" and it stayed that way. To the glory of Patrons...

Further up the road, the market outstretched. Besides sacks of rye and wheat, on the wooden stalls heaps of bread, fruits, pork and fish, and also barrels of mead and beer as well could be found.

The village traded sheep wool too and from time to time the village huntsman showed there with animal skins and fangs.

For the major part of the year one could easily stumble upon the southern merchants trading their exotic goods, as pottery, fabrics, even clothes and dyes.

Behind the market there were few more homesteads, including Bryce's cottage, and then only fields. They created sort of an outer ring, surrounding the buildings. Vast, oblong strips of ground yielded an amazing crop that season. With stronger wafts of the wind they could hear a distinctive whisper of wheat ears and seedpods coming from this green-gold sea.

One furlong to the north of Raygne, in line with the road, Milltail flew under the small stony bridge to the rendezvous with the village mill. The miller was the third most important person. The old, black wolf was wealthy, if one could say so about a peasant, and that's why his three eligible daughters were very popular amongst the young, eager wolf lads who courted them at every opportunity.

At that time most men were in the fields, harvesting. Raygne though, was buzzing with activity. Every moment hordes of children ran past them. A joyful clamor of the young foxes, wolves, cubs and rodents of any species echoed throughout the neighborhood making the afternoon all but peaceful. With children's yells mixed the cackling and quacking of chickens and ducks.

Mothers and daughters were busy taking care of their homesteads. On the yards, freshly washed clothes and greyish undergarments flickered on the lines like banners. Old grannies, slouching on the chairs and benches, armed with threads, tambours and severe scowls on their muzzles, were keeping watch over their porches. From time to time one of them squinted at the boys and shook her head with disapproval.

"And what's the matter with them?" Finn asked his friend.

"Who? The cronies?"

"Anyone else murderously frowning upon us at the moment?"

Bryce chuckled.

"Well... We're not decent. Can't you see the looks we're getting from the courteous, fair-spoken young maids?"

"Oh." The wolf realised. "Well, I don't see how the hell we could wear anything else besides pants in this heat." He took a discreet look around and indeed, even a couple of adult women stole an occasional, conveniently accidental glance at the young lads.

"And they don't see why the hell shouldn't they take a peek or two, right?"

"I don't mind. Well... for now," admitted the wolf.

"What do you mean?"

"Now it's all ungodly, cause we don't wear any shirts and for the Initiation Rites they want us completely naked all of a sudden. Isn't that nice?"

"After all it's the Iniiiiitiation, isn't it?" asked the dog, lewdly licking his chops. Finn immediately wanted to forget this gesture. "It's all a big show for the ladies, so they can see your..."

"Alright, now shut up, troubles ahead," Finn interrupted.

Was Bryce confused about what troubles the wolf could have in mind, he didn't have time to ask. From amongst the wooden stalls and booths enclosing the market, emerged two figures surpassing their surroundings so sorely, they seemed almost irrelevant there. When beauty went hand in hand with wealth, it generally awoke that strange kind of respect, a mix of envy and attraction. That's what pictured best how the others perceived miller's daughters.

Their fur neatly groomed, greys and browns on their supple necks and tight shoulders turning into beiges on their breasts. And there was a significant amount of that beige. Always faultlessly dressed, today they wore flimsy, pastel coloured summer dresses on top of their snow-white chemises, each of them belted with a narrow ribbon matching in colour. The two were taking cover from the merciless sun, hiding under some strange, fabric, dome-like device on a stick. The middle sister, Liva, was missing.

When the taller of two maids laid her eyes upon them, her expression immediately alighted with rather hollow courtesy. Even Bryce, not usually sensitive in such matters, could tell that a certain intent was hiding underneath that glance.

"By the Patrons! Batilda, dear, just look at that!" She almost exclaimed, of course drawing entire market's attention to them. The wolfess took her younger sister under arm and together they approached the boys. "Poor Liva not only suffers in home because of migraine, but here as well, as she's losing such a view. Good day to you, Finn and Bryce." The welcoming sentence the younger wolfess chimed together with her sister.

"Oh, for sure it is, ladies," grinned Bryce, "if a bit sunny! But I see you have some tricks of your own," he indicated the strange device above their heads.

"Well, a lady has no choice, but to be subtle," blurted Batilda all of a sudden. Her voice yet still more of a child, than a young woman, which made it sound all the more arrogant. "Decency is much more important than personal comfort."

"Oh, I feel judged," snickered the dog, glimpsing at Suzette before returning his glance to the younger wolfess. "Let's talk about my lack of decency when it's next time some hard work has to be done in such heat."

"Oh, boys, you have to forgive her. The poor girl is all sullen, because of some particular book, father didn't allow her to buy from some southern merchant. And, as you can see, she's yet unaware of any other possible enjoyables," explained Suzette good-temperedly. Speaking that, she turned her eyes to Finn, squinting them in a way only a fool, or a child, wouldn't recognize and feel under their skin. Unobtrusively, tactfully, but nonetheless, she was ogling him. Provoking.

The lad would gladly sunk into the ground in that moment, as it was not only the two of them there, but also all the crowd on the market... What's she up to? Finn thought, staying alerted.

After a while of awkward silence growing between them, Bryce mercifully cleared his throat.

"So what's this thing you cover yourselves with, dear sisters?" he inquired, feigning obliviousness about the tension between the two wolves.

A little smirk, or a lockjaw, crossed Suzette's muzzle, and she turned her glance at Bryce. "It's an umbrella, my dear," she almost drawled out, "It's quite the go among the real, noble ladies, lately."

"It suits you well," Finn blurted out, immediately attracting three different kinds of looks toward him. Batilda was indifferent, Bryce flabbergasted and Suzette... vainly satisfied. What the hell am I doing?!

"Oh, it does, doesn't it?" The older she-wolf whirled around gracefully, swirling her beautiful gown in the air. He couldn't not admit she was gorgeous when she halted, covering her light, almost angelic smile with a paw to her mouth. The folds of her dress winded around her with the motion. "Thank you for your kind words, Finn."

She then stepped closer to him. She was tall. Not nearly as tall as him, but enough to be imposing for a woman. He fighted the urge to flinch.

"Expect me on your Initiation Rite," she whispered. "I will gladly appreciate you some in return. I..." she leaned forward to reach his ear, placing her paw upon his bare chest by the way. Damn, she will feel my heartbeat. "I thought about it for some time now," she susurrated, "I would like such a... preview."

Then, not waiting for his reaction, the wolfess turned to her sister.

"Come, Batilda. Father will be worried. And good day to you, boys!" She chirped like nothing happened, and before he could even process her words, he heard himself reflexively bidding farewells and that was that.

"Ey, mate," Bryce spoked at least, moving on. "If I don't know something, like... you want to mow her or what... just let me know, so I won't be making a fool of myself next time."

Finn pinned his ears hearing reproach in the voice of his friend. Bryce rarely was one to get irritated. But then, this time he had certain right to it. As if all those other people weren't bad enough, thought Finn. It seemed, there was not a single male on the market that wasn't scowling at him more or less openly. However, the glances he was getting now were rather out of envy than indignation, as before.

"I'm sorry... I have no idea what have I been thinking. Shit... She thought I was complimenting her."

"Oh, well," Bryce uttered with a mocked pondering, "maybe that's because... you were?"

Finn sighed in resignation. He didn't like the change in the shepherd's mood.

"I know, I know, but it wasn't supposed to come out like that. I've only encouraged her."

"That you did. But frankly, I don't understand why not? Are you really so afraid of her? She is pretty, she will be wealthy when old Mardig pegs out... hell, she's got education! She's almost like a noble. I know you said, you are not ready," the dog added before Finn could say anything, "but you won't find such a woman like... anywhere? And it's most probably settled already, right?"

"Y-yeah. Probably is, but... Ehh... it's a... it's a long story," Finn muttered, not really wanting to go further with that conversation there and then, as they were approaching the stalls. Bryce's mother, Damila, waved to them from afar. "Let's just say I don't trust what I see in her eyes."

"Mateyyyy... you have some issues under that roof, don't you?"

You have no idea... Finn looked into Bryce's brown eyes not knowing what to say. Not finding the words, he quickly turned his gaze away, but that was enough to wake the concern of his friend.

"We will get back to it," assured the dog quietly, as they stood before the wooden boxes waiting to be filled with fish.

"Hello, mother."

"Good day, miss Damila."

"Welcome, boys!" sung the corpulent female. Over her black and tan fur, so similar in pattern to her son's, she was wearing a dirty-white chemise, and a red apron, covered in work-stains. A white coif on her head protected her from the sun. "I was wondering what took you so long!" She spoke to Bryce.

"Oh, it's my fault," Finn immediately interfered hoping to at least make up to his friend for the earlier incident. "I asked Bryce for some help with gathering the herbs for Slaine and he agreed. Otherwise I would have to spend the entire evening on this," he smiled to the dogs, patting the big leather purse strapped to his belt.

"Oh, aren't you a dear, boy. Now, please, get to work. I will take fish to the hut and you, please, take care of the boxes. I don't think we're selling anything more today."

"Yes, mother," answered Bryce, then he offered the wolf his hand. "I guess it's a goodbye then. It was good meeting you, Finn. It's been quite a while."

"I will see you soon," said the wolf taking the dogs strong grip and looking into his eyes meaningfully. "Thank you for the talk. And fish. Have a good evening."

"You as well, dear. Oh, and greet Elin for me, will you? How is she, by the way?"

"Mother is good, thank you. Any day now we're expecting father's return."

"It's good to hear, Finn. Such a separation never serves the family well. But you are all brave pack there," said Damila putting her hands together.

The wolf smiling, finally bid them his goodbyes and turned back towards his mentor's cottage. Left alone with his thoughts, he was in two minds while considering all that had happened, whether he was better off at the end of the day, than he had been getting up.

---

"Gathering some herbs took you an awful lot of time," greeted him the old stag, only just after Finn entered the hut. Dark, spacious inside was filled with the aromas of herbs and decoctions itching and tickling nose.

"I've been helping Bryce with fishing," explained the wolf.

"You have everything?"

"Yarrow, some black elder. Dog rose too."

"What about juniper? You have the berries?"

"Plenty," answered Finn, pleased with himself.

"Show." The stag got up from the table to see the contents of Finn's purse, now laid out on one of the three cots. Thankfully, all of them were empty.

"Good," Slaine clapped approvingly. A sound of colliding hooves echoed dully of the walls. "Now I can make some more jenever."

"Don't you have enough in the cellar?"

Slaine looked at him raising his eyebrows.

"I presume something awfully important made you peek inside?"

"Well..." the wolf pinned his ears a bit, "we ran out of cobwebs, so I thought I'll spare myself some effort."

"Gooood," deer's mouth corners turned down in grudging approval, "very good. Wise working, not hard working."

"Father might not agree with you on that matter," remarked the wolf good naturedly.

"Oh, he wouldn't? Or maybe it's just that sometimes the only way of wise working is... hard working?"

"Now, now," Finn chuckled. "This is just too far-fetched."

"I'll tell you what's far-fetched, you sly wolf!" The stag snorted. "Your sudden concern about my booze stockpile is FAR-FETCHED!"

"Oh, like I would ever be concerned about booze, right, old man?" countered the wolf. "You should have higher opinion about your apprentice."

"That would be right, my dear apprentice if only you considered certain circumstances beforehand," the healer chuckled and stroked his antlers. Returning to his table with gurgling alembics and beakers he could feel the quizzical look on his back.

"Your Initiation Rites!" He explained impatiently. "Have you really thought that invited guests will be celebrating on dry snouts? Booze flows in streams on such occasions and you bloody well know that!"

"Well... I guess I do. You send us off into the wild and then have fun. It's only proper to be prepared, right, master?"

Slaine turned to give him a grin.

"I believe you have herbs to attend to."

Without lingering the wolf got to work, while his master pursued his own occupation with some mysterious, disgusting, bubbling brew that with certainty was to be called medicine for the sake of good marketing.

The wolf unbound the bundles of stems and proceed to hang them on a long wooden bar under the ceiling, within easy reach to the fireplace. They were going to stay there to shrivel until ready for further treatment.

"When are you going to conduct the Rite?" After a while of silence Finn turned his head to find the old stag with his gaze pensive, fixed nowhere in particular. Grey patches of fur and discolorations on his muzzle and neck were clearly visible. He misheard wolf's question and Finn cleared his throat to catch his attention.

"What?"

"I asked when are you going to conduct the ceremony?"

"I've already told you I don't know," sighed Slaine. "Besides how would I? Your father gets saying in this matter and anyway, you're not supposed to know."

"Not letting us prepare for such an important occasion is absurd."

"Would you know, you wouldn't be any more prepared than at this very moment, I assure you. It's just a ceremony...

With us naked in front of everyone...

"...and as for the rest, you of all people will do great, don't doubt that."

"I don't."

"And yet you're troubled."

The wolf looked at his mentor, caught off guard for the second time that day.

"And for some time now." Added the stag. "What's the matter?"

Finn would have told him. He really wanted to. But what? How could he open himself to anyone, when the very nature of his anguish was beyond his grasp? It was infuriating! He, just a young lad from a loving family, his entire life spent on a full stomach, with a roof over his head. All that acquired through the hard work of his parents and later on brothers as well. He had no right to complain! He wouldn't have any chances of being Slaine's apprentice as well if it wasn't for his father's strong position in Raygne. Yet he was here, brooding over his possible marriage with Suzette. The only real oblige his family ever asked of him. What an ungrateful, selfish bastard I am...

"You know me... it's just the Initiation," Finn answered, suddenly aware of the awkward silence expanding dangerously. "I don't like such attention. And all this talking about adulthood and responsibility... I'm not eluding it, it's just intimidating, that's all."

"Well... I can see that." Answered the old quack, scrutinizing him. "You finished?"

"Umm... you asked yourself so..." mumbled the wolf, somewhat astonished with Slaine's abruptness.

"I mean with herbs."

"Oh, yes." He nodded and stretched his back, feeling pain in the small of them.

"Good. Well... I think you need to relax. Go home now," suggested his master.

"Already? Really?" asked Finn, perplexed. "I've barely even done anything today."

"Really. You look wretched. I would offer you a massage, but these brews won't take care of themselves," he gestured towards the liquids bubbling in the alembics.

"It's alright... t-thank you."

"It's nothing." Slaine assured approaching his apprentice and wrapping one arm around his shoulders. "Come after tomorrow. I'm just an old prick, so find ears willing to listen and spill your troubles. Sort your mind out. Or at least do something that will bring you closer to it. Will you?" He asked, walking him off to the door.

"I'll try. Though..." the wolf hesitated and after a moment of silence just sighed. "I will try."

"Do that," the stag nodded. "And remember, cause you said so yourself. I know you."

His entire way home these words rung in his mind, awaking an entirely new dilemma. What did he mean by that?