PERDITION

Chapter One
Gregory

	“Mmmm, so you're... Gregory?” His voice was coarse, lethargic. It sounded deeper than it was.
	Gregory's neck tightened and his head rose until Phreqs' black leather shoes came into view. “Yes.” He replied, his voice a hoarse whisper, his brow damp with cold sweat.
	Phreqs stared at him, his form faintly illuminated by the candles on the outer walls and the two candles at the front edges of his chair. They were hidden away in the darkness, beyond where Gregory could see, but he knew they were there: he knew the other Alchemist's were watching from behind him, their faces covered with crimson, silken robes, their scents blocked by ritual Magick.
	“A fox.” Phreqs finally said. “There are not many foxes left.”
	“No. I'm...” He swallowed. “I'm one of the last ones.”
	The room went silent. Gregory took a heavy, stifled breath. [i][i]Not again, not more silence, [/i][/i]he thought. [i][i]How long do I have kneel here like this? What is he thinking? Am I going to be accepted?[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]He swallowed again, running over the same question for the millionth time. [i][i]What happens if... I'm not?[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]“Look into my eyes, Gregory.”
	His throat tightened with fear. His head slowly shifted up to meet Phreqs.
	[i][i]Why am I so scared? [/i][/i]He wondered. [i][i]Why am I so scared to look into his eyes? Why am I so scared to be here?[/i][/i]
[i][i]	I... belong here, don't I?[/i][/i]
[i][i]	This is my home now.[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]Phreqs' black robe was little more than a black splotch on a black surface that seemed to eat any light that came near it, but Gregory's eyes had adjusted and he could make out his silhouette now. He followed it upward, until he saw a hood.
	Phreqs grunted and rose from his low, slouched position. He sat up straight and pushed his hood back.
	Gregory's eyes widened. [i][i]He looks like a normal man, [/i][/i]he thought. [i][i]He isn't a monster. He's just...a man.[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]Phreqs looked back at him, nearly squinting, his brown eyes and white flesh twinkling faintly in the light.
	[i]He's just a man, but... he looks so pained. So old, but so... young at the same time.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Gregory,” Phreqs said, his voice a whisper. In the silent chamber, Gregory heard it clear. Do you know what it means to be an Alchemist?”
	“It's to...” Gregory paused. He thought back to all the times he'd pondered this question. To all the different answers he'd given himself at different times. He needed to make his depth and profundity known here, but he wanted to be concise and elegant as well. “It's... change.” He finally answered.
	Phreqs' head cocked the slightest bit to the side. “Oh?”
	“Y-Yes. It's... to change something in accordance with will.”
	“Mmhm. And what do you change with alchemy, fox?”
	“You....” He paused again. A feeling of brashness overcame him, a sudden confidence in light of his immediate danger. “What do you not change with alchemy?” He finished.
	Phreqs stayed silent for some time before standing. He rose slowly, his movements lethargic and pained., and before he rose completely, a hooded figure appeared at his side and helped him. Another hooded figure appeared from his other side and handed him a book.
	“You are no fool, fox. You did not come here unprepared.”
	Gregory watched him approach, one small, pained step at a time.
	“Do you know what it means? Do you know what this act of change is? What it means to change the world in accordance with your will?”
	Gregory swallowed.
	“Do you fathom the immensity of this action? Do you know what it is to wave your finger and have it... be done? Do you know the cost, boy?”
	“The... cost?”
	“What is the purpose of existence, Gregory? What is the point of it all?” Phreqs stopped a few steps away from him.
	“The p-point?”
	“Yes, boy. Why do you suffer? Why do you endure this? What is the [i]point?[/i]”
	“...What's the meaning to life?” Gregory asked.
	“Call it what you will. Just tell me what you think it is.”
	Gregory looked up at Phreqs, his throat tight. “It's... I....” His heart pounded against his chest and his blood ran cold. “I... I d-don't....”
	“You don't know?” Phreqs pressed. “You don't know why you live?”
	Gregory fell silent for several moments. He could feel all the eyes in silent hall on him, but he had no idea how many eyes there were tucked away in that oppressive wall of black.
	“It's....” He began, tentatively. “Why I live...?” He looked up at Phreqs. His eyes widened a bit as another wave of confidence and power washed over him, like the one from before, but stronger now. [i]“[/i]You want to know why I... endure?”
	Phreqs' chin rose. He looked down at Gregory, his eyes a bit wider now too.
	“There's only one reason anybody lives. It's because there's a purpose.”
	Phreqs continued to look down at him.
	“I couldn't tell you what it was, though. All I know is that it's there.”
	“...You know that it's there.” Phreqs repeated. “But you don't know what it is that's there?”
	Gregory thought about this for a moment. “Yes.”
	“And how do you, boy? What tells you that there is a purpose at all?”
	Gregory's chest tightened. He'd known the question was coming, but he doubted his ability to answer—let alone in a few words. “I know, because... why else would we be... condemned to live?”
	Phreqs' eyes tightened. “Condemned to live?”
	“Yes. Why... would we be forced to endure this? Why would we be trapped here?”
	“We're trapped here?” Phreqs asked curiously. “But what of suicide? Isn't that an option?”
	“Yes, but... that's an end to life. An end to [i]this [/i]life, or to [i]that [/i]life. Who's to say that it ends... life, though? Isn't life the only thing we've ever seen? How do we even know death exists—exists in the sense that... in the sense that we can go there, or that we can manifest it, or that... we can feel it, that it exists at all as an [i]opposite[/i] to life? Isn't life just a collection of various elements that comprise a sentient being? At least fundamentally? Isn't it just... processes? How does this one thing, all grouped together in our terms, in our definitions and understandings and our world view, how can we accurately say this... homunculus of human thought we call a body or a 'self' has an opposite at all? Isn't it typical of something with no actual opposite to simply become.. negative? The lack thereof? Isn't that... death? A fancy way of saying 'nothing?' If death only ends[i] a life[/i], but leaves existence intact, then wouldn't existence just continue to beget life? To force this... hellish experience over and over again? Forever?”
	Phreqs remained silent. No part of his face moved. He seemed so still in the pale light that Gregory was not sure if he was still breathing.
[i]	[/i]After awhile of this, Phreqs groaned softly.
	“...And as for life,” he began. “You claim it is just... a homunculus of human thought? Just a series of aspects of existence mashed together into one convenient logos?”
	“Y-Yes.”
	“And you believe this logos to fundamentally be... a condemnation? You consider life a sentence that goes on forever?“
	“To a degree... yes.” Gregory answered. “If this is not a condemnation, then I don't know what i-”
	In the time it took for Gregory's heart to beat, Phreqs pulled a massive slab of steel from seemingly nowhere in the darkness and swung it toward Gregory. By the time his mind caught up with Phreqs' appalling speed, the slab of steel was already hovering by his head, cold metal pressing into his cheek. A drop of blood ran warm down his icy cheek, saturating his fur.
	[i]A... scythe.... [/i]Gregory thought, his body numb from the sudden rush of adrenaline. [i]So fast....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“You said life was a condemnation, didn't you, Gregory?” Phreqs asked, his eyes wide now.
	“Y-Yes.” Gregory whispered.
	“Then tell me something. If life is such a condemnation, why are you so afraid of having yours taken away?”
	Gregory's eye shifted toward the gigantic scythe's curving, glimmering blade. It extended out past his head from the front and presumably from behind. The blade was wider than his torso.
	[i]No man should be able to hold that with one hand.... It's huge.[/i]
	He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. The initial urge was to say that he didn't know, to say that he was sorry, to say it was all a mistake and that he wasn't cut out to be an Alchemist, but in the back of his head, in the back of his heart, tucked away in the depths of his very core, he felt a force—something moving, something [i]alive.[/i]
[i]	[/i]He opened his mouth and the words came out, surprising even him as he spoke. “C-C-Condemned t-to live. A-And c-cond-demned to die. And condemned t-to fear....” Gregory's eyes shifted up and met Phreqs'. “But w-w-w-worst of a-all, c-condemned to cling forever to the very instrument of my t-torture.”
	Phreqs' eyes widened. His lips curled up into a smile, barely visible in the light. Slowly, the scythe fell away into darkness. Phreqs relaxed and pulled it close, sliding his hand up the massive shaft and letting huge blade rest on the floor. He approached.
	“Here.” Phreqs reached out with his other hand and gave the book to Gregory. “You will need to read this. And then you will need to read it again. You need to study this relentlessly. Over and over again. Whenever you have an issue that you cannot work through, you will turn to this book. Whenever you have a question that only you can answer—this book will be your guide.”
	Gregory took the old tome from him. There was no cover, and when he turned it around, there was no text on the back.
	“Now,” Phreqs smiled again. “I have one more question.”
	“...Y-Yes?” Gregory swallowed. The force he'd felt before, it writhed around, making him shake and making his head spin.
	“Tell me, boy....” Phreqs reached out and wiped the small bit of blood on Gregory's cheek.
	Gregory felt something rise up in his throat, like he was going to vomit, but without the nausea. It came only with a sense of worry, a sense of expectation, and a deep desire for satisfaction similar to wanting to spit rising mucus rather than swallow it.
	Phreqs looked at his bloodied finger. He reached out and touched Gregory's forehead. He dragged his finger down, leaving a small trail of blood. “...What's your favorite fruit?”
	Gregory opened his mouth and the word tumbled out, as if spoken by another.

Chapter Two
Leonidas

	Every few moments I skipped forward to keep from being tugged. Mrs. Shire could only walk so slowly to accommodate me, and since I got slower as we walked, my arm occasionally over-extended and I was tugged forward—never hard, but never comfortably, either.
	I kept this up until she abruptly stopped and turned around, pouting. “How about... I teach you a little trick?”
	“A t-trick?”
	“Yep. It's for when you're scared.” She kneeled down and met my eyes with a soft smile. “It's an easy one, too. Wanna hear it?”
	I nodded.
	“Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don't think about anything other than your steps. Don't think about me or you, or about what's ahead. Just focus on your steps, hon--even if you have to look at your feet while you walk. It'll help take your mind off all the bad stuff.”
	I tried to avoid her gaze, but she placed her hand on my arm and stroked it. I caught myself looking up at her, and found her eyes gazing back. They were deep green with a subtle brightness about them, like pond moss in the sunlight. They made me feel warm whenever I looked at them.
	She was smiling.
	“Will you do that for me, honey? Will you focus on your steps and get through this...? I promise with some time you're gonna feel a whole lot better. This is a really great place and I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you get taken care of--but for now, for now, hon... you just have to trust me.” She stroked my arm again. Okay?”
	Tears were beginning to sting my eyes.
	“You're hearing me, right, Leo?”
	“Uh huh.”
	She smiled and patted me on the head. “Do it whenever you get scared, alright? It's a good trick.” She got back on her feet.
	 “...Mmhm.”
	“You ready to keep going?”
	“Mmhm.”
	She took my hand in hers again and continued down the old, dusty hallway of the place she'd called West-End--the place that was supposed to be my new home.
	As we walked, I watched Mrs. Shire from behind, admiring her tail as it swished back and forth and twitched lightly at the tip as if it had a mind of its own. It was long, short-furred, and black like the rest of her fur; with the exception of the asymmetrical traces of white on her front side, that rose up from below her blouse and stopped at her neck.
	She was an older woman, possibly in her thirties, and she was a cat, just like me—the first one I'd seen since mom died. Our fur color was almost identical, though the white of my fur was solid around my neck and extended up the side of my face where it completely surrounded my right eye. Also, my tail had a slim, curling strip of white that extended from my lower back all the way to the tip, and ended in what my mom had called a 'snowball.'
	Sometimes I wondered if Mrs. Shire and I were distant relatives. I knew that wasn't true, but it was nice to think about. If we had been related, then I wouldn't have needed to be 'processed by the State,' or have been sent to an orphanage to live with other unfamiliar kids. I could've just gone to stay with her, which I would have liked a lot.
	Most of the 'social service' people who'd helped me had been nice, but Mrs. Shire had been the only one who'd made me feel better. Whenever she was there, things weren't as painful, and the future wasn't as scary to think about.
	West-End, however, was scary, even with Mrs. Shire holding my hand. The walls were made of an old, worn plaster: aged yellow in the worst spots, with a two-tone shade of dirty white barely surviving in the others. In several areas, the plaster had broken away, revealing crumbling bricks below. Deeper in the hallway, pieces of wall had been chipped off, as if by hand, and there were some holes in the plaster, about the size of fists.
	At the tops of the walls sat opposite facing windows packed closely together, reaching from one end of the hallway to the other. Light was abundant during the day, but there were only a few candles, and they were spaced a good distance apart. I wondered what it looked like at night.
	[i]Night. [/i]I tightened my grip on Mrs. Shire's hand.
	With a quivering breath, I looked down at my feet in hopes her trick would help distract me from the bad thoughts. As my head lowered, I caught sight of an image in motion at the end of the hallway. A large figure trudged in our direction—a human boy, several years older than me and almost as tall as Mrs. Shire.
	I nearly choked on my saliva in panic.
	I tried to ignore him and focus on my feet, but it felt as if my mind had turned to sludge. My chest grew tighter with each step, and I could feel my tail beginning to press into my side with fear.
	The moment I saw his feet from the corner of my eyes, my head started moving on its own, and by the time I realized what had happened, I was already looking straight at him. He was looking back at me with a heavily furled brow and squinted eyes, as if anger and confusion were fighting over control of his face.
	My heart thumped against my chest and I tore my gaze away. A frigid chill ran through my body.
	After managing a few more numb, breathless steps, I inhaled sharply, loudly enough so that Mrs. Shire could hear me. She turned around to face me, looking worried.
	“You okay, honey?”
	 I nodded in return, but tears welled up in my eyes and gave me away. I was taking quick, shallow breaths, and my tail was coiled around my lower body like a snake.
	“Aww, hon, c'mere.” She kneeled down again and pulled me into a hug. “I know it seems scary right now, but you'll get used to it, okay? You can be safe here.”
	I sniffed.
	“Just wait until you meet Headmaster Daughtry. He's a really nice guy and he's gonna take great care of you.”
	She said it to cheer me up, but it only reminded me we would soon be separated.
	“You know,” she pulled away from the hug and looked me in the eyes. “He used to be a governor. Your new guardian's gonna be a pretty amazing guy.”
	“A... governor?”
	“Yep. Do you know what a governor is?”
	I shook my head.
	“It means the people chose him to be responsible for making laws and deciding on what's right. And you know what's even more amazing than that? He decided to give it all up to take care of kids like you. I guess that's just the kind of guy he is.... Now that doesn't sound so bad, does it?”
	I shook my head and sniffed again. “Is he nice?”
	Her gaze softened and she smiled. “The nicest.”
	“...Is he a cat, too?”
	Her expression faltered for a moment. “No, he's human, but try not to worry too much about species, alright? That kind of thing doesn't matter all that much, and I know for a fact Daughtry is very much for Equality.”
	I nodded.
	“So do you feel a little better now?”
	“...A little.”
	“Okay, good. How about we go meet him, then? His office is right over there.”
	She pointed to an old, wooden door a few steps in front of us, chipped away at the bottom from years of use, a square hole in the center where I imagined a window had once stood. Mrs. Shire reached out for the knob, and without turning it, pulled the door open and led me inside.
	The room contained a low coffee table, an empty receptionist's desk, three chairs up against a wall, and three doors leading to what I imagined were other, smaller offices. The walls were the same old plaster as the hallway, but cleaner and a more consistent shade of white. Mrs. Shire let go of my hand and looked down at me.
	“Okay, hon, just take a seat right over there while I go in and talk to Daughtry. I'll get the paperwork filled out and do all the boring stuff and then you can meet him, okay? I'll be out in a few minutes.” There was an extra silky edge still lingering in her voice.
	I nodded and climbed up on the chair furthest to the left. I was too short to reach the ground, but I liked being able to swing my feet back and forth.
	Mrs. Shire knocked on the only closed door other than the exit, and after being greeted by a faint “come in” from a male voice, she looked back to give me a reassuring smile. I mustered up a polite smile before she disappeared into the room.
	“[i]Daughtry....” [/i]It was a strange name, one I had never heard before, but one I had already begun to associate with good thoughts.
	I stared at the closed door for several moments before turning away to face forward, toward the door we'd entered in. The broken-window hole was directly in front of me, and immediately beyond it, on the crumbling plaster wall, I could see a white patch where it looked as if graffiti had been scratched out with a sharp object.
	I shuddered.
	Who was I going to be living with?
	The big kid from earlier had been so much... older. Was it possible there were others as old as him? Or maybe he was a counselor?
	What concerned me even more than his age or his size was the expression he'd given me. Why had he looked so surprised? And, had it just been my imagination, or had he looked disgusted?
	I had to live in this place, with people like him, surrounded by people who could love me or hate me, people whom I could love or hate in return. People I'd never met in my entire life.... It was nauseating to think about.
	My entire body felt sore, and I kept shifting around on my chair, trying to find a position that would make the uneven, hardwood comfortable. I let out a low, woeful groan.
	Looking back at the door to Daughtry's office, all I could think about was how much I wanted Mrs. Shire back by my side. I wanted to hear her say more magic words, like the ones she'd spoken in the hallway; the kind that made the pain melt away as if they were bringing me back to life. But I knew the sooner she came back, the sooner I would be forced to meet my new roommates, and worse yet, the sooner she'd leave me for good.
	When she was gone, I would truly be alone. For the second time in my life.
	Maybe there was a chance I wouldn't be staying here? Maybe Mrs. Shire would realize how obedient and kind I'd be as a foster son? Maybe she would adopt me-
	-The click of the door opening interrupted my thoughts. I looked over and found Mrs. Shire exiting the room, smiling at me. I realized my hands were balled into tight fists, and I quickly relaxed them.
	A man followed close behind. He was several inches taller than she was, and had greasy, dirty-blond hair that was lumped into numerous tangles and curls, all of them of varying thicknesses, with the lowest ones slicked back behind his ears. His tawny eyes were so soft and relaxed that next to Mrs. Shire's they looked almost dead. His white shirt was loose and flat, yet puffy around the arms, and there was a collar around his neck.
	“Okay, Leo, you ready to meet your new guardian?” Mrs. Shire was smiling softly at me. She walked over and kneeled down. With the elevation from the chair, she was at eye level with me.
	“This is Mr. Daughtry. Or, as you're gonna be calling him from now on: Headmaster Daughtry. This is the nice man I was telling you about earlier; the one who gave up on politics to take care of kids with no families—kids like you.”
	[i]Kids with no families.[/i]
[i]	Kids... like me....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“You may not know it now, but when you get older you'll understand what a big sacrifice that was for him to make.”
	I looked over and caught him staring down at me with an expression that oozed power, both in the physical sense, and in another, harder to pinpoint sense.
	In a split second, everything that I was had been handed over to this mysterious man of whom I had never spoken a word to, this man who had never spoken a word to me.
	“I just want to share a few words before I leave, okay?” She must have seen the dread that appeared on my face, because in that instant, I saw her lips curl into a slight smile and her eyebrows purse into a taut look of pity. “I need you to listen closely, Leo--to every word. They might be really, really, important for you some day. Alright?”
	I forced out a nod. Tears filled my eyes, and I struggled to hold them back.
	“I won't lie to you, hon, you've been through a lot for your age--for any age--and the truth is, you've got a lot more left to experience. There are going to be some great days, but there will be some where you're not going to want to go on. Days where you're not going to want to take another step, even when you absolutely need to keep moving. You'll want to lie down, Leo, and you're not going to want to get up sometimes. But you remember, don't you, hon? You remember what I told you about walking?”
	I nodded, and tears began running down my cheeks.
	“What did I tell you about the steps?”
	“Y-you said,” I sniffed, “you said t-to keep walking....”
	“I did. To focus on your steps and keep walking. And that's exactly what you have to do. And do you know what you do when you can't walk any further? When you can't stare down at your feet for another second?”
	She paused, as if expecting a response, but I remained silent.
	“You look up, Leo. You have to look up. You have to look towards Gaol and to DELIVERANCE and ask for help. Naol loves playing tricks, especially on kids who are having a hard time. He going to be out there, trying to get you turn away from Gaol, to condemn you forever to YOI, and he'll come to you at your worst moments. He'll try to make you hate your life, and he'll try to trick you into thinking bad thoughts. It's evil, and whenever you feel like you can't take it anymore, or whenever you're so scared you can't stand it, you just gotta look up and ask for Gaol's help, okay? That's so important I can't stress it enough. Gaol is always going to be there, even if you can't see Him. He's always going to be with you. And He'll be there when you die, if you accept Him while you're alive.”
	I sniffed again.
	“All you need to know is that He works in mysterious ways, and we're all part of His plan. Okay? He's always with you. And when He is with you; Naol isn't. That's the only way to get through this. Never lose faith, hon, and never lose hope things will get better. Because they always will. It can just take a real long time.”
	“...The last thing I want to tell you is that you can never stop walking, alright? Naol will try very hard to make you think there's a choice--but there isn't, hon. The only choice is forward. Don't even acknowledge anything else. Be humble and keep moving forward, and Naol will never get his hands on you. He'll never pull you down into YOI. That's all you have to do. Keep moving.... Will you do that for me, Leo?”
	I nodded. “Mmhmm.”
	“Alright.... Good boy.” She got to her feet and looked down at me with that same, soft smile. “I guess it's time for me to go now.”
	“No...!”
	“I have to, hon.”
	“W-will I ever see you again?”
	She paused. Her smile faded for a moment, but quickly returned, even stronger than before. “Sure. You'll see me again.  But you gotta keep moving if you want that to happen.”
	“I w-will! I promise! Just please come back to see me! Pl-please d-don't....!” I wiped the snot leaking from my nose onto my forearm. Hot tears were trailing down my cheeks even faster now.
	“Don't worry, hon. You're gonna love it here.” She turned away and faced Headmaster Daughtry.  
	I looked over and saw him smiling at me with the utmost gentleness.
	“Alright, he's all yours.”
	“I'll be sure to take good care of him, Shire, you have nothing to worry about.” He smiled that same, gentle smile at her, though there was something more in his eyes now.
	“Oh, I'm not worried. I know he'll be just fine here. Lucky for him there are people like you around.”
	“You flatter me.” He smiled, this time with genuine pleasure.
	“Anyway, I have to get back.... Believe it not, I have a consultation with Comisosa himself.”
	“Comisosa? Am I permitted to ask what about?”
	“Just reporting the numbers for Marge. He checks with us directly now and again, but I'm not sure why.”
	“Comisosa has a complicated arrangement of priorities. I am sure he has his reasons for whatever it is he is doing. Regardless, give him my regards. I am sure he will be happy to hear from me.”
	She chuckled. “I am sure he will.”
	I held my breath as Mrs. Shire slipped out the room, extending one last smile and one last wave through the empty panel in the door. I wanted to call out to her, but I was at a loss for words. I could have begged her and tried to bargain with her in every way possible, but I already knew what the results would be. It was better to just spare myself the added shame and rejection.
	I heard the clicking of shoes on tile.
	Headmaster Daughtry kneeled down in front of me, just as Mrs. Shire had, except now, I had to look up to meet the eyes.
	“Hey, buddy. I know Mrs. Shire already told you my name, but I was hoping we could get formally acquainted.” He extended his hand to me. “My name's Daughtry, but it's customary around here to address me as Headmaster Daughtry. What's your name?”
	“Leonidas....” I shook his hand.
	“Leonidas, huh? That's a cool name. I think it fits you really well.”
	He paused for a moment, but continued on when I didn't respond.
	He put his hand on my knee, covering the entire thing with his palm. “I can tell you're pretty worried about this, and that's totally normal, okay? But you're gonna have a whole family here of supportive brothers—that's what we call each other here, pretty cool, right?--and you're gonna be one 'em. One of us. So don't worry, alright? You're gonna love it here.”
	Combined with the unexpected tone of friendliness, the hand on my leg quickly became a soothing presence. When he let me go and stood up, I almost missed the warmth.
	“You ready to meet 'em?”
	I looked into his eyes again, and suddenly, they didn't seem so dead.

Chapter Three

	Daughtry twined his fingers around mine and led me deeper into West-End. The yellows hues of the walls began to overpower the white. Crumbling spots began appearing more often. Whenever I licked my lips, I tasted the scent of stale crackers and sawdust lingering in the air.
	“You're gonna love it here, Leo.” He looked back at me and smiled. “We have lot's of things here that other orphanages don't. You know we have an entire library? Now, it's nothing compared to the Capital's library--but for an orphanage? It's really quite a sight.... Do you like reading at all?”
	I swallowed. “Y-yeah.”
	“Oh, you do, huh? What a lucky guess. I'm sure you'll find all sorts of cool things in the library then. Oh! Here is the cafeteria.”
	There was something about Daughtry's relaxed manner of speaking that put me at ease. He sounded a bit like a kid, but a smart, protective one. When Mrs. Shire had been there, it'd been all business, but now it was as if his excitement about West-End were a curse he was committed I catch.
	Shortly after passing the cafeteria, the hallway split into two directions. He led me to the right.
	“The library is down there. You can explore that in your free-time, though. Right now I'm going to take you to the 'Bunker.'”
	“...The Bunker?”
	“Yes, yes. Don't worry, it's nothing bad. It's just the name the kids came up for the bunks—the place you all sleep. That's where most of the kids spend their time when they're inside, too. Are you excited?”
	[i]Where we all sleep? [/i]I thought. [i]We all sleep together...?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I'd known it was [i]possible[/i] I'd end up sleeping in a room filled with other kids, but that had been one of the least pleasant thoughts. The sort I'd actively tried to keep from my mind.
[i]	[/i]Toward the end of the hallway small groups of human kids sat leaned up against the walls. The closer we got, the more heads that turned toward us.
	“Hey, don't worry so much.” His grip on my hand tightened. “You're gonna love 'em.”
	The closer we got, the better I could decipher their expressions. I'd been wrong in my belief that they were looking at us—they were definitely only looking at me.
[i]	 [/i]Some eyebrows rose in confusion, while others went forward with the squinting of their eyes. The worst were the ones that remained still, disinterested yet contemptuous, like they were looking at a wandering insect.
	Heads turned sideways to whisper to other heads, but the eyes always stayed on me. Some of the whispering I could discern. Whispers of confusion, and for some, disgust.
	Daughtry dragged me past them, forcing me to step over and between their legs with terrifying pace. I pictured what would happen if I stepped on somebody's foot by mistake. A flurry of semi-connected images ran through my head, more like panels than cohesive ideas. There were sneers, threats, and laughter, and a few glimpses of a foot suddenly sliding out in front of mine, and my body toppling to the ground.
	I swallowed.
	The hallway terminated into a dead-end. A few moments before reaching it, I noticed an opening in the wall, about the size of a double-door. There were hinges on the walls, but they were decrepit and long broken.
	We turned into the opening.
	A sharp current of warm, musky air flooded into my lungs. All the tension that had been creeping up through our walk plowed into me, like a brick colliding with my chest. The room made me feel uncomfortable in my own body, and eerily distraught with my own mind. I felt as if I'd walked into a different world.
	The walls were the same white-yellow, and the windows were preferable to the ones in the hallway—now closer to the ground and capable of being opened. The aroma of stale crackers and sawdust remained, but had lost the tinge of an unoccupied building, and in place had taken over the bouquet of young stench.
	Beds lined the walls, leaving a wide, empty area in the center. The covers were all the same; the sheets off-white and the thin, scratchy looking blankets on top a deep shade of blue. The bed frames looked cheap and hollow, as if they would creak loudly with every movement.
	The room bustled with human boys, in groups, and others still in bed with their pillows pulled over their heads. A few kids sat alone, some on the outskirts, some sitting near groups, but not daring to claim a spot within them.
	Just like in the hallway, a plethora of white, human faces looked up to meet me. The first few regarded my frame with astonishment, and this had prompted the remaining bulk of the room to snap to attention the way dominoes fall in a line, each with their own sort of astonishment.
	Daughtry led me to the middle of the room, undaunted by the sudden silence.
	“Alright, boys. I've got some good news for you.”
	Various hushed comments reached my ears, such as religious exclamations like “Great Gaol!”, and some other, less than happy comments. My favorite was the 'are you serious?' that had come from somewhere in the back; as if my presence there was not only a surprise, but an affront.
	Daughtry continued. “As of today, you boys've got a new Brother. As you can all see, he is like Joseph, so I take that they will become fast friends.”
	Some snickering and too-hushed-to-hear commentary swept through the room, but quickly died down.
	“I'd like for you all to treat our new Brother with respect. The same respect you would show anyone at West-End; the same respect you would show me; the same respect you would show your family. Because that is precisely what we are, and that's what he now is to you. A Blood Brother.”
	I shuddered. I couldn't pinpoint what about his words sounded so sickening, but I had the instinctive feeling they were utterly untrue.
	He looked down at me. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
	I swallowed so hard I worried for a moment my tongue would slide down my throat. I forced my head in his direction, and then I shook it back and forth. I hear more snickering, and a few mumbled whispers at my expense.
	However, Daughtry seemed to understand, and instead cut the laughing off by looking up and continuing on.
	“His name is Leonidas. As you can all tell, he is still very young—the youngest boy here. I expect you all to take good care of him and make sure he is comfortable. I know all you won't let me down.”
	Ending his speech sooner than I'd have liked, Daughtry led me over to a bed occupied by a small group of young, lazy-eyed paupers, one sitting cross-legged on the floor, one leaning against the wall, another sitting at the foot of the bed, and the last extended out on the bed, his shoes scuffing the blanket.
	“Alright, guys. Outta the way. This is Leo's bed now.” Daughtry's words came out smoothly, completely lacking in effort or authority or fear. I couldn't tell if I liked the effortlessness or not. Something about it seemed unnatural.
	Their expressions had been heavy, misery-laden scowls that screamed of injustice by the forces of life itself, but somehow when their attention went from Daughtry to me, they hardened.
	The boys got up without a word, but said more with their looks than they could have ever said with their tongues.
	Daughtry guided me to the bed and sat me down. He told me if I needed anything to come see him. He suggested that I go and try to make some friends—this he suggested with a barely perceptible aura of urgency, as if something of importance depended on it. He told me again about the cafeteria hours and that the library is always open. And then he was gone.
	If my regaling of his departure makes it seem hasty, then that is because it was. Or at least, sitting there with an ocean of eyes gazing at me, it felt that way.
	I sat on the bed with my legs close together and my hands on my lap. My feet didn't reach the ground, but I didn't swing them this time. The urge to shed immediate tears had passed, but my gut occasionally lurched up into my chest and I had to stop it from rising to my throat and turning into sobs.
	I expended every effort to put on an expression that seemed aloof, but not too aloof. To make everyone know how indifferent I was, but [i]casually [/i]indifferent, as if no effort was needed on my part at all. Indifference to the stares and the jeers, which increased in volume with each passing moment. The comments on my name, and the comments on my species. I wanted them to see how little I cared that I had essentially been put on display in the center of a town, of who's primary export is tomato; and I had been labeled with a great sign pointing to me saying 'CRIMINAL.'
	Feet in shabby shoes clicked toward me. A shadow fell on the floor, darkening the spot I'd stared at since being left. I looked up, and found the same kids I'd seen earlier, the ones who'd been kicked off my bed.
	“Hello.” The shortest one among them spoke first. The one who had been stretched out on my bed, who had apologetically scuffed my blanket.
	“H-Hi.”
	His lips pulled into a smile and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if contemplating something. “What was your name again...?” He squinted at me. “Oh yeah. It was... Leosnidas, right? Weird name.”
	Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down next to me, close enough so that I could feel the warmth of his hip against my tail.
	“Um, n-no ac-actually i-it's Leonidas.”
	“Hmm? That's what I said: Leosnidas. That's your name, right? It's Leosnidas?”
	His friends moved in closer, the second shortest of them—the one who had been sitting on the floor cross-legged moved to my opposite side, completing a semi-circle around me.
	I swallowed. “O-Oh, i-i-it's just that, you're, you're saying it wrong... kinda. It's Leo[i]ni[/i]das. Not L-Leosnidas.”
	“Oh!” He said, suddenly chuckling about something with his friends. “Is it now...? Y'know, I should really apologize. With a name like that, you must be nobility or something.”
	“Oh, n-no, I'm not nobi-!”
	“-No, no! ...It's cool. I wouldn't want to offend someone like you. Someone who thinks he's the son of a king or something.”
	“You mean a prince?” The second shortest boy with the pale brown eyes chimed in. Silence hung for a moment. The blond-haired boy turned to look at him, squinting hard.
	“I know what a fucking prince is, Lucky.”
	The two taller boys laughed. Lucky looked frozen to the spot, but his face hardly reacted. My gaze shifted down toward my feet, and I pondered whether Mrs. Shire's trick applied when still.
	“Anyway,” the blond-haired boy turned back to me. “I just wanted to tell you that I love your tail.”
	My head inched upward in surprise. The moment I realized he had complimented me, I felt the tip of my tail softly flick in reply. He noticed the motion and replied to it.
	“Oh [i]yeah.[/i] It's great. Don't you love his tail, boys?”
	The second tallest boy with the scraggly red hair grinned. “Yeah, it looks like a wild one.”
	“Oh, yeah,” the blond-haired boy replied. “A very wild one. About as wild as they come.”
	The tallest boy, with the broad body and the open, unimposing expression scoffed out of nowhere. “An what're you gittin' at Blon? Talkin' about the boy's tail....”
	“You don't think it's a nice tail, Buddy?” Blon turned toward him. “I think it's great. Just look at it-”
	In one motion Blon turned back to face me, and in one swipe he seized my tail with a hard grip.
	I inhaled sharply and nearly jumped off the bed. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
	“See? Look at it. It's got the white at the tip and everything. It's cute, itn't? Just like some fresh sweet cream.”
	“Please!” I begged, my hands hovering in air, the fingers writhing and flexing in discomfort. “Please...!”
	Blon looked over at me in confusion. “Please what? What are you saying 'please' for? ...Can't you speak properly?”
	The boy with the red hair laughed. Lucky smiled.
	“Please stop... hurting me!” Tears started to well up in my eyes; the same tears I'd been desperately holding back for so long.
	“Stop [i]hurting [/i]you? By Gaol, I'd never do something like that! I'm just showing your tail off to my friends.... You don't mind, right?”
	“I-”
	“-Naaaaah. You don't mind. [i]See[/i] guys. Isn't it [i]nice[/i]?” Every time he emphasized a word, he squeezed down extra tight, sending what felt like a lightening bolt of pain through my body.
	“Puh-puh-[i]please...![/i]” The word came out as a nasally, miserable sounding sob. The last thing I wanted all these large, imposing bodies to hear from me on my first day at West-End.
	Blon scoffed and threw my tail against my leg. “Gosh, I guess I have to since you're gonna be such a selfish baby about it.”
	I whipped my tail to the other side of my body and clutched it in my hands. Staring intently at the point he'd squeezed. I pulled my body in as close as I could, like a ball.
	“Good Gaol.” Buddy shook his head as he watched the scene transpire. “You're a damn animal, Blon.”
	“I don't think I'm the animal here.” Blon replied, laughing.
	The red-haired boy cackled, and Lucky laughed a moment later.
	“You like that, Ant?” (He spoke to the red-haired boy). “Then you're gonna love this.”
	Blon's hand began to slowly veer into my field of vision. It took me a moment, but once I realized he was reaching across my lap to grab my tail again, I scooted away from him. He scooted with me and kept reaching.
	When we reached the wall, I pressed myself as tightly against it as I could, and covered as much of my exposed tail as possible with my hands. His hand kept coming, slowly, painfully deliberately. He was inches away when he paused, and after a few moments of stillness, his hand reached up and patted my cheek.
	Each tap made me lurch. When he finally pulled away, sobs slipped from my throat—hoarse, stifled, sobs.
	“Jeez, what a baby.” Blon said. “That bothered by just a little touch to the cheek.”
	“Y-You know, there's only one reason he'd be that bothered by something like that,” Lucky spoke up. Ant and Buddy turned to look at him, but Blon kept his eyes on me. “He, uh, he must be a stag....” Lucky went on. |You know, all... sneaky about it.”
	The small area went silent, all except for the sound of my sniffling. Blon half-scoffed half chuckled.
	“Yeah,” Blond said smoothly. “That would explain it, wouldn't it? I've heard stags can be really paranoid about touching, cause they never know when they're getting turned on.”	
	[i]Wait, what, [/i]I thought. [i]What is he....?[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Ha, ha, ha!” Ant boomed with laughter. “The cat's a damn stag!”
	Buddy rubbed his face in exasperation.
	“Y-yeah,” Lucky chuckled. “He's probably been gettin' off this entire time.”
	“I knew he was a loser the moment I laid eyes on him, but I didn't know he was a stag, too.” Blon's lips curled into a frown. “Ugh! And to think I touched the little bait's tail!”
	“I hope you don't catch the stag.” Ant chimed in. “I hear it's contagious.”
	“I'm not too worried. I hear there's a cure for stag. At least for the contagious stuff.”
	“Oh yeah?” Ant's lips curled into a smile.
	“Yeah,” Blon leaned toward my ears. “You just beat the little bastard who gave it to you half to death and it goes away.”
	“Is that so?” Ant said, laughing.
	“Alright, Blon, that's enough teasing the lil' thing. This is pretty bad even for you.” Buddy interjected.
	“Bssh, don't tell me when enough is enough, [i]Buddy. [/i] I'm doing this entire orphanage a damn favor. Make sure this little pussy knows his place.... You hear that, Leo[i]sni[/i]dus? We didn't need a little brat around here, least of all another...” He looked me up and down with disgust. “Fen.”
	Blon had some more choice words for me, some of which he said closer to my ears than I'd have liked, but at that point, they all became one long, dull string. There was no more definition; just the understanding that the words hurt.
	When he finally stopped insulting me, they walked away and headed to the other side of the room. After a few moments of sitting at the edge of my bed, too scared to move, I slipped into a lying position and curled up. I pulled my robes up to my face and sobbed.

Chapter Four

	I don't know how long I lied there sobbing. How long I lied there, refusing to look up, refusing to move.
	Whenever my tears slowed and the pain subsided, a deep, black void formed in my chest, like a jagged rock sitting juxtaposed to my heart. It swelled and swelled until my chest threatened to explode and my heart was nearly crushed. Then my body would shudder with pain and a new sea of tears would stream down my face.
	But the void melted away, eventually, and the tears came to an end. I remained on my bed, curled up, my face pressed to the bedspread. I heard comments about me from afar, but they came and went like distant events in a nightmare. The details alluded me, but I noticed most of them were not particularly kind, nor were they particularly mean, either. Most of my 'blood brothers' looked at me like I was a lamb to the slaughter, like a [i]sacrifice [/i]worth as much as I weighed.
	And then there was the nagging question in the back of my head—why? Why was I being treated like this? What had I done to incur their wrath?
	I was too tired to consider it in any depth. I was too confused and awash with this strange, miasmic sensation that made everything around me seem vague and nightmarish. All I knew was that Blon, despite all of his projected 'friendliness' seemed to derive pleasure from my pain. The more I squirmed and begged, the more intense the look in his eyes. The more he seemed to want to hurt me....
	Thinking about it made the void form in my chest again.
	He[i] is supposed to be my blood brother? ...Are they all like that?[/i]
	Something heavy landed on my bed. My heart fluttered.
	[i]Oh, Gaol.... [/i]I thought. [i]Please, not anymore. [/i]Of all the many things I didn't know about the heavy object on my bed, there was one thing I did know—that it couldn't possible be good. [i]Did someone throw something at me? Did they just walk over and set it on my bed? Why won't they just [/i]leave me alone[i]?[/i]
	“Um, hey.”
	I jolted.[i] [/i]The fluttering of my heart escalated to something more akin to a seizure. [i]Oh Gaol, it's a person! It's another one of [/i]them. [i]But...what do I do? Should I look up? Do I say anything? What if he does something to me while my head's down? It might be one of the boys from earlier.... But, I guess whoever just spoke didn't really sound like hi-[/i]
[i]	[/i]“-Hey, you awake...? You were just crying a few minutes ago; there's no way you're already asleep, yeah?”
	[i]Oh Gaol.... Why can't they just leave me alone....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Oh, um.... If you're scared, you don't have to be. I'm not like those other guys, yeah? They're [i]real [/i]jerks, but I'm[i] [/i]not like that. I promise I'll be nicer.”
	I swallowed again. [i]Okay, that's... a good start. But that other kid lied too, didn't he? This might be a lie too... [/i]I took a deep breath[i]. Then again, I don't have much of a choice, do I?[/i]
	I turned sideways, removing my face from my the barricade I'd formed with my arms. Despite the gross smell and humid atmosphere, the first inhalation of fresh air was like a cool breeze on a hot day. I looked at the source of the words, at the weight toward the foot of my bed, with squinted eyes.
	“Hey.” He said to me, his excited expression slowly coming into focus.
	“Oh,  u-um, hi....” The first thing I noticed about him was the fur.
	[i]He isn't Fair.... He's a Fen, like me.[/i]
	“So my name's Joseph. What was your name again? 'Lee-oh-ni-dus,' yeah?”
	I cringed, hoping he kept his comments about my name to himself. “Yeah.”
	“Ooooo, that's a cool name, yeah? Never heard anything like that before.”
	[i]Okay, [/i]I thought, [i]maybe a [/i]few[i] comments wouldn't be so bad.[/i]
[i]	[/i]He continued. “So, I couldn't help but notice.... You're a feline, yeah?” The edges of his lips quivered a bit, like he wanted to smile and was holding it back. I could here the smiling in his tone, though.
	I nodded. “Uh huh. You're a feline, too.”
	“Oh, definitely! I'm definitely a feline. Yep, tail and everything!” His tail swung over his waist and it fell into his hands. He was smiling now, and I had to stifle the urge to smile back.
	I leaned forward into a more comfortable position and crossed my legs. Across the room I could see the small group of kids from earlier staring at me, all except the tall one who'd tried to get Blon to calm down. I looked down at my lap and--apparently--made a face obvious enough for Joseph to immediately realize. He looked in the direction I'd been looking, and then turned back to face me, no change in his expression.
	“Don't let'em get to you, yeah? They're just.... They're just a bunch of cat-hating jerks, yeah? Even when they're not hating felines, they're being jerks, but they're usually hating felines, so... Something to watch out for, yeah?” His foot started to tap restlessly on the ground, my bed shaking along with it.
	“Um, i-is.... Is everyone here like that?”
	“Naaaaaah. I mean, there are some real [i]jerks [/i]around here. Especially to felines, yeah? But you—hey, hey, don't make that face, really!--you don't have to worry about that! You've got me as a friend, yeah? And I'm cool with [i]everybody [/i]here, yeah? So you got nothing to worry about, yeah?”
	“O-Oh! So then we're... friends?”
	“Yeah!” He leaned forward and the word practically exploded from his mouth (along with a small amount of spit...). “So you've got nothing to worry about. Cause we're friends, yeah? And friends watch out for each other. And us felines, yeah? We gotta watch for each other, too. Just like friends do... yeah?”
	The last 'yeah' came after a small pause, as if he couldn't stand to leave that particular chain of thoughts without personal confirmation.
	“Oh, okay,” I smiled. “I'm really happy that you're... nicer than the others. I guess not everybody here is a jerk-”
	“-They're definitely not [i]all [/i]jerks, yeah? There are some nice guys here. Like Scott, yeah? Scott's really nice to me sometimes, and he teaches me a lot of cool stuff. He is probably the smartest person here, yeah? Like he teaches me all sorts of cool stuff, yeah? Craziest stuff you could imagine! He talks about life a lot and gives me advice—oh, I almost forgot to ask, how old are you, Leonidus?”
	My mouth hung open for a few moments, poised to respond, my mind struggling to discern the connection between his question and the previous topic. His hands wrung together every few moments, and when he wasn't wringing them, he was picking away at his claws, which were ground down to his fingers.
	“It's... I'm, uh, twelve years old.”
	“Oh, you're twelve, yeah? Yeah, I'm fifteen. I think twelve makes you the youngest one here, yeah? Oh wait, yeah, no, you're the youngest. Yeah. So how'd you get here? What's your story? Parents die in some horrible accident? A lot of kids here had their parents die—some in accidents, but most of them died in the war. So how'd your parents die?”
	“Um... I....” I took a moment to process the flurry of words. He kept his eyes on me, half-smiling, leaning in a bit further, my hesitation seeming to make him physically uncomfortable. “I... well... she....”
	Joseph must have seen the look of distress that had slipped its way onto my face, because I saw the happiness in his expression melt away like snow tossed in a fire. What took the cheer's place was an amalgamation of emotions, including, but not limited to sadness, regret, and even some mild panic.
	“O-oh, I-I didn't, heh, I didn't... mean to, to offend you or anything, y-yeah? I just... I....” He seemed on the brink of tears.
	“Oh, no, it's-”
	“-I just, I-I pr-probably should have s-s-said it a little... better... yeah? I just... I.....”
	“No, no! It's okay! Really...! It's fine. I'm not bothered. I, uh, appreciate you asking.”
	“A-Are you sure? Cause I r-really didn't mean to-”
	“-Really. I promise.”
	We sat in silence. He looked away from me, and it wasn't until I saw his body begin to relax that I realized how tense he'd gotten. I also noticed that the bed (and his leg) had stopped shaking for the first time since he'd sat down.
	“So, you still wanna know what happened?” I offered.
	“Oh, yeah, for sure. If you're okay with telling me, yeah?” Joseph seemed surprisingly calmed compared to just a few moments ago. He wasn't speaking as quickly anymore and his hands had stopped shifting around.
	“Yeah, I can tell you.... The truth is that I never met my dad. Mom raised me, but... she was really sick. She wasn't sick the whole time or anything, but she got sick toward... the, uh, end, and after she died I... got picked up a few days later.”
	“...A few days later? What were you doing until then?”
	“I was still living at home.”
	“They didn't just leave you there, yeah...? Like you were in a town or the government helped you, yeah?” He tipped his chin toward me considerately. “Like they got you out soon, right? Or the uh... well, you know....”
	“Nobody knew about it for awhile.”
	The resulting silence was the first awkward silence we'd shared yet. Joseph pulled away a bit, looking as if the implications of my words were finally settling in.
	“So you....” His face twitched a bit, like he were going to grimace, but stopped halfway.
	I stared down at my crossed legs, half-depressed, half-confused, as I wasn't sure how to feel about making an orphan who'd probably heard a long list of horror stories cringe that way.
	“Hmm, I never actually met my mom, yeah?” Joseph suddenly continued. “I knew my dad, though. I didn't like him much, though.”
	“How come?”
	“Cause he didn't like me much, yeah?”
	“Oh,” I frowned, finding the idea of a parent disliking their own child new and remarkably upsetting. “What... happened to him?”
	“Dead.” Joseph said the word as if his father's death had meant little to him. Like it were as common as a bad storm.
	“Hey,” he suddenly continued, “you wanna see somethin' cool?”
	I looked back at him, not sure how to answer, and desperately praying that he'd changed the topic.

	“Um, h-hey, Joseph, um...” I stopped to remove a thorny bush from the sleeve of my robe. “...Where are we going?” I looked at the plant with disdain before directing my gaze toward Joseph, who was further away from me than I'd have liked.
	“Trust me. You're gonna love it, yeah?”
	“Yeah, I... I believe you and all, but that doesn't really answer the question... and it's just, we're getting kinda... Ugh!” I narrowly dodged a thin branch that protruded directly into the path, aimed right at my eye. “We're getting kinda deep in here. You, uh... you do know how to get back, right?”
	“Pfft, of course. I've been out here [i]billions [/i]of times, yeah?”
	“B-Billions, huh?”
	“Billions.” He said with finality.
	[i]I bet you can't even count to a billion.... [/i]I thought sarcastically, looking down at the thin path of gray, sandy dirt. [i]He's definitely walked it quite a few times, though. Otherwise it wouldn't be worn down like this.... I wonder what could be worth walking such a long path so many times?[/i]
[i]	[/i]It was odd, though. There was a lot of [i]stuff [/i]in the way for a path that had been tread 'billions of times'--or at least enough times to wear the grass down to sand. Bushes, branches, thorns, and broken, untrod branches littered ground, many of them covered in vines and hidden in the various growths, ripe to be tripped upon. Why had none of it been broken, moved, or crushed?
	“Um, Joseph?”
	“Yeah?”
	“Are we almost there...? We're really, really, deep....” Whenever I made the mistake of looking away from his back, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of space around me. The forest was dense, but somehow, I could still see deep into it, into strange groves and dismal crevices no doubt harboring all sorts of decrepit life. “H-Hey! Wait! Don't leave me!”
	“Hey, don't worry about it, yeah?” He swung himself onto the side of a felled tree long enough for me to catch up, keeping his eyes aimed forward the entire time. “You trust me, don't' cha'?”
	“Um, well, I-”
	“-Perfect! Really, you're gonna love this place, Leonidus! It's so... perfect, yeah? I go here whenever I just have to get away from everything and from everyone and for... well, you'll see when we get there. You know,” he paused for a moment to dodge a particularly intrusive branch. “I've never showed this place to anyone. It's totally private, so we don't have to worry about anyone interrupting us out here.”
	I swallowed.
	[i]Totally private...? [/i]I thought. [i]He's never showed anyone? And he's taking me there... to this place... out in the middle of the woods... on my first day here...? And he mentioned it immediately after casually telling me his father is dead.[/i]
	My blood ran cold.
	[i]Am I gonna die?[/i]
[i]	[/i]After what seemed like an endless, perilous journey, a clearing appeared, and I noticed Joseph suddenly moving much quicker.
	[i]Why[/i] [i]did I agree to this? [/i]I thought, sweat coating my brow.[i] I barely know this person. I've only talked to him one time. I just... What was I supposed to say?[/i]
[i]	[/i]Joseph stopped ahead of me, facing the clearing, his hands on his hips.
	I stood next to him and looked out into it.
	“So?” He remarked, as if we were standing in front of his livelihood.
	I looked up at him inquisitively, and then back toward the clearing. Compared to most of the woods we'd traversed it was... well, clear. Fairly wide, most of it covered in vines and leaves, with a large, circular spot of dirt in the center. There was a large tree trunk lying on the ground as well, a small groove in it about the size of a butt.
	“Is this it?”
	He turned to look at me, bewildered. “Wh-...Whatta you mean?”
	“You made me walk all this way and... it's just an open space?”
	“W-we-well, it's not, heh, it's not... [i]just [/i]an open space... yeah?” His tone sounded pleading, and his expression turned similar to that snow-into-fire, happiness-melting-away look from earlier. “And, and, I know it's a far walk, but... but that's why it's good for being alone, y-yeah?” His gaze turned down toward his feet.
	“Oh, I-I didn't mean it like that! It's just, I didn't expect... I... I don't know what I expected, just something... different. But that doesn't mean I don't like it!” My words managed to elicit a downtrodden, sideways glance. “Yeah, it's really peaceful, and quiet, and nice out here. And after what happened earlier, I think that's really great.”
	“...Yeah? You... you really think so?”
	“Yep. I really do.”
	Watching his shattered expression contort into smile made the entire walk worth it.
	“Okay, then, perfect! Lemme show you around, yeah?” He nearly hopped from spot to spot as he led me around the clearing, which turned out to be surprisingly nuanced.
	At the end closest to us, there was the felled tree. The butt sized groove had been a seat, just as I'd suspected, one that Joseph graciously offered up to me when and if we came back out here. Toward the back was a small cliff that dropped about three feet down and led into a flurry of vines and tall weeds. He called this area 'the Pit,' and according to him, it was where he went to the bathroom.
	Toward the center was the large, circular patch of dirt, surrounded on all sides by thick leaves. A small bit of the circle was misshapen and led to a particularly big tree. An oval of bark had been removed from the front of the trunk; the edges of it were uneven and the wood beneath looked chipped and deeply scratched.
	“I call this the Circle.” He said, beaming with pride. “This is kinda the best part.”
	“Oh, yeah, it's... great. But, uh, what's it for?”
	“Oh! Nothing much, yeah? This is just where I [i]train for the  world championships[/i]. No big deal!”
	“...World Championships? What are those?”
	“Oh? You've never heard of the world championships? They're awesome, yeah? There's this, super duper big arena in Vosstayne where the greatest fighters on earth all get together and duke it out for a grand prize! It's the most amazing, incredible thing [i]ever. [/i]And all the big shots of the arena are super rich and famous and everybody loves them and I'm gonna be one of them one day. I promise you that! So I come out here and practice everyday—every single day I can, even when it's raining! I'm gonna get out of West-End and head there when I'm old and good enough and I'll be the best fighter the arena has ever seen!”
	“Wooooooow!” I cooed. “That's so cool!”
	“Isn't it?” He asked, grinning. “It is [i]cool, [/i]isn't it?”
	“It is [i]so[/i] cool! I didn't know you were trying to do something like that! Does that mean you're gonna be rich some day?”
	“Yep, it totally does. But I'm not even in it for the money, yeah?”
	“You're not...? Then how come you're doing it?”
	“Heh, you've got a lot to learn, Leonidus!” He put his hands on his hips and grinned at me. “I do it because I love it, yeah?—Oh, and also because I want to be super famous!”
	“You want to be famous...? Wow, that would be... I can't even imagine it!”
	“Yep! I practice everyday for it! I bet I practice harder than just about anybody else.”
	“Than anybody...?” I asked with wide eyes.
	“Than anybody.”
	“Wow.... So what do you do in the arena? Do you just fight or are there challenges?”
	“I've heard they sometimes do special events and stuff, yeah? But it's mostly fighting. It's just you versus your opponent, yeah? Battle 'till the end.”
	“'Till... the end?” I frowned.
	“Heh, I-I didn't mean... the [i]end [/i]end. But until somebody gets knocked out. People don't usually die in the arena. There aren't any weapons or anything like that, yeah?”
	“I hope not! I would hate it if you went there and ended up... you know....”
	“Huh?” He looked back at me, dumbfounded. “You'd hate it if I ended up what?”
	“Uh, you know... dead.”
	He stared back at me with no discernible emotion on his face, but his eyebrows were pursed a bit, as if he were in deep focus. I couldn't tell if he was staring at me, or just staring in my direction and in deep thought.
	“A-Anyway, to be honest with you, I'm a little jealous....” I went on.
	“Hm?” He led me toward the felled tree.
	“It's just... you have this really cool dream and this big plan for the future and you're gonna be rich and famous and stuff. I don't have anything like that.”
	“You don't know what you want to do when you grow up?” He sat me down on the groove in the trunk and took a seat next to me on the bark.
	“No, I don't really have any idea. All I know is I wanna be successful, and rich too. And... there's someone I'd like to find, too.”
	“You wanna find someone?” He laughed. “You're just a little kid, yeah? Who could you wanna find?”
	“Um, well,” My cheeks turned warm as I struggled to find the right chain of words. “There was a... a woman who brought me here. Mrs. Shire. It's just, she was really nice to me, and, she told me I could see her again.”
	His lips curled up into a taut smile. “Oh really?”
	“Uh huh. Right before she left she said we could see each other again.”
	“And you said [i]she [/i]is the one who brought you to West-End?”
	“Uh huh.”
	“Hehehehe.”
	“Wh-... What is it?” I stammered.
	“Heh, is she [i]pretty[/i]?”
	“I-I-wha... I don't... I don't know!”
	“It's okay if she is, yeah? You can tell me if you have a crush[i] [/i]on her.”
	“B-B-But...! I never said that I-I... I don't...!”
	“Ha ha ha!”
	I frowned. “I don't have a crush on her!”
	“Are you sure?” He replied. “Sounds like you're smitten.”
	“...What's smitten?” I asked.
	“Means you're [i]in love.[/i]” He did a hugging and kissing motion, as if there were a woman in his arms.
	“No! It's nothing like that! It's just... She was just really nice and... and I wanted to see her again.”
	“Heheheh, it's fine, I'm just teasing you. You can love whoever you want, Leonidus.”
	I frowned harder and crossed my arms. “Stop making fun of me.”
	“Heh.”
	We sat in silence for a few moments before he revived the topic.
	“So you said you wanted to be successful, yeah? But you don't know what you wanna be successful in?”
	“...No. I don't. I'm not even sure what... I could do. I guess it would be nice to help people if I could. But, I kinda wanna be rich, too, and I'm not sure if I can do both.”
	“Ehhh,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Money is okay, yeah? I don't know if.... I don't know if you should make it your goal, though. Money ruins people. Makes 'em evil, and it makes 'em do evil stuff to keep it. Maybe you should just stick with helping people, yeah?”
	“Money is evil...?”
	“Yeah, I learned that from Scott. He talks about money a lot, and about the class system and about how it ruins people. He's really smart, yeah?”
	“He sounds like it.”
	“Yeah, he's a real genius, yeah? I swear if anyone is gonna make it out of this Perdition, it'll be him.”
	“Huh?” I looked up at him. “Whatta you mean? ...Perdition?”
	He looked down at his feet, the smile on his face melting away. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked over at me.
	“Hey, you wanna see somethin' cool?”
	“Something cool?”
	“Yeah, yeah, something really awesome, yeah?”
	I regarded him with some awe. He had gone from happy, to sad, to excited all within a span of ten seconds.
	“I dunno.... I do, but last time I said yes we ended up like a hundred miles in the woods....”
	He furled his brow “We're not a hundred miles in the woods.... Maybe you just need to get out more.” He pouted somewhat comically and turned away.
	I giggled, and he looked back pleased.
	“So-you-wanna-see-it?” He leaned in, half-smiling, half-grinning.
	“Okay, okay,” I said, pulling away. “I'll take a look. As long as it doesn't involve a lot of walking.”
	“You're gonna love it and it doesn't require [i]any [/i]walking!” He got to his feet and practically skipped to the dirt circle in the center.
	He extended his leg and leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee and reaching for his toes. He did the same thing with his other leg, then hopped up and down for a few seconds. After a few more minor warm-up exercises, he turned away and faced the tree with the oval of torn-away bark.
	“Ready?” He called out.
	“Yep!”
	Joseph spread his legs and pointed his body toward the tree. In the next motion, he blasted toward the tree, taking full length, full speed strides in it's direction. Before I had time to gasp, he reached the trunk, placed one foot on the bottom of the oval, pushed himself up high enough to put his other foot on the top of the oval, and then arched back.
	He kicked off with enough force to send this body flying backward in a flip. The landing involved a slight stumble a second after his feet hit the ground, but otherwise, he'd done it perfectly.
	“Sorry. I guess I wasn't warmed up enough.”
	“Whoa!” I jumped up off the tree trunk and my jaw dropped. “You just did a flip!”
	“Yeah, I didn't stick it, though, yeah?”
	“That was amazing! How did you.... Who taught you to....”I looked back and forth between Joseph and the tree in utter confusion. He looked back at me slightly bewildered, but I saw his tail flicking around in an undeniably excited way.
	“You really liked it?”
	“That was so [i]cooooool[/i]! I didn't even... I didn't think anyone could even... [i]do that. [/i]I've never seen that in my entire life!”
	“Heheheh, I saw some older kid do it when I first got here. But he wasn't as good at it as I am, yeah?” He grinned. “I can do some other stuff, too! It... it's not as cool as the backflip, but you might like some of it, yeah?”
	“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” I beamed. “Lemme see another trick!”
	Joseph's tail whipped in a wide motion and he smiled back at me.
	We spent another few hours in the woods before heading back. Walking back into West-End yielded a lower population of kids than there had been in the morning—which I had no problem with whatsoever. There were some stares and even some hushed whispers as we walked in, but beyond a few curious glances at the new kid, it wasn't as bad as I expected, and nobody openly harassed me this time. It didn't seem like the bullies from earlier were there either.
	I was worried about sleeping that night. In a room filled with kids I didn't know. In the dark with uncovered windows next to a bunch of woods. With nobody to go to if I got scared or had a nightmare.
	But it was immensely relieving to know Joseph was across the room. Even if I had no plans of crawling up next to him and falling asleep like I had with my mom, it was nice to be able to say the choice existed, to know there was a warm body somewhere in the vicinity who actually seemed to care about me.
	[i]I wonder what tomorrow is gonna be like.... I sure am hungry.... Wow, Joseph is so cool and nice! I'm so lucky to have someone like that be friends with me! I bet he'll be able to keep me safe.... It's really dark in here, but, I'm not that scared for some reason. Maybe I'm getting braver...? Wow. I'm [/i]really [i]hungry.[/i]
	My thoughts went in circles like this for awhile, until I finally plunged into the darkness of sleep.

Chapter Five

	My eyes opened, and a moment later, soft, half-muted groan slipped from my lips. My muscles ached with exhaustion, with both and physical, like my full night of sleep had never happened.
	When I was a child, I'd heard stories of the stars above crashing into each other. I'd always wondered what it would have felt like to be pinned between them at the moment of impact. Now I felt as if I knew.
	I stretched, not even enjoying the feeling of that. My face felt chilled from the morning air, but my body felt almost feverish. As if it were swampy, yet not sweaty. My eyes lids were stuck together, my lips were stuck together, and it felt like the sides of my throat were too. I reached over, happy I'd fetched a glass of water the night before, and brought it to my lips.
	I saw Joseph lying on his bed across the room, covered in his blue blanket with his knees pulled up to his chest. Our eye's met almost instantly. He looked away, feigning aloofness. I wondered how long he'd been looking at me. Had he been waiting for me to wake up?
	[i]Was he dreading it? Does he not want me to bother him...? [/i]I pondered. [i]Or maybe he has been looking forward to it? It seemed like we had a lot of fun yesterday.[/i]...
	I rolled over and let my eyes close. As excited as I was about hanging out with Joseph again—assuming he would have me—my body still ached with morning exhaustion, and I felt like if I moved too suddenly, I'd vomit.
	I curled up into a tight ball and clutched my blanket, keeping it pulled to my chin. I did my best to remain perfectly still, only moving for the more intense, shuddering yawns, and managed to maintain this sore yet peaceful state for several minutes.
	Then there was the sound of springs and a sudden shift in the weight on my bed toward the side. A familiar weight, one I'd felt before.
	“Mornin' sleepyhead,” a familiar voice rang out the moment my eyes slid open. “It's practically noon.”
	“It is...? But it's.... A-Are you sure?”
	I couldn't explain it, but something inexplicably [i]morning [/i]comprised the room. Maybe it was the light, or possibly the large amount of bodies still tucked up in blankets.
	“Okay, maybe I exaggerated a bit, yeah? But it's still later than usual. Especially for you.”
	“Um,” I rubbed my face and eyes with the palms of my hands. “I've never slept around you before.... How can you think it's unusual?”
	“Heh, I can just tell. You should trust your elders more, yeah?” He didn't look over at me as he spoke. He seemed preoccupied with his hands, looking down at one and picking at his claws with the other.
	“My elders...” I sat up and smiled. “I think it's gonna be awhile 'fore you're my elder.”
	“Nuh uh,” he insisted. “Anyone older is an elder, yeah? Which means I am your elder and you should respect me.” His tail smacked the bedspread.
	“No....”
	“Uh huh!” He looked over at me and smiled. “Few more years and I'll be the oldest one here, too. And then it's all milk.”
[i]	[/i]“Yeah, well, you may end up the oldest, but you still have to answer to Daughtry.”
	Joseph looked back at me, at first with surprise, but his eyebrows and the corners of his lips began sinking slowly until his entire expression looked aghast. His shoulders slumped and his wide eyes lowered. He turned away from me and looked down at his claws.
	“Yeah...” He muttered, picking at his claws. “I guess so.”
	I sat there erect for several moments, too shocked to move.
	[i]But... what happened? What did I say?[/i]
[i]	[/i]After the most awkward silence I'd ever shared with him (or anybody), I found the words to continue:
	“I mean, you'll, uh, you'll be an elder to pretty much everybody some day. Eventually you won't have to worry about West-End at all and everyone will look up to you!”
	I saw him glance over at me, his depression now more empty than sorrowful. He looked back down at the claw he was picking, and a moment later, his tense eyebrows relaxed a bit. He took a deep breath.
	“Yeah, I guess that's true.” He replied.
	“Yeah...? I mean, yeah, yeah, it is! You're gonna be the-the, oldest, most respected elder [i]ever. [/i]I can already tell.”
	He closed his eyes for a long a moment, his head still turned away. His eyelids slid open slowly and he turned to face me. A smile formed on his lips.
	“Yeah, I think you're right. But nobody is gonna respect me if I don't make it happen, yeah? Means it's time to go train!”
	I smiled back at him, glad his good spirits were returning(though still slightly disturbed by the ease in which they could be ended).
	“You ready?” He asked me.
	“Huh...?”
	“You wanted to join me, right? I could show you some moves if you want.” He leaned in a bit, his smile widening.
	“Oh, uh... y-you mean right now? Like, right this second?”
	“Yeah, of course! While we're young!” He leaned in a bit further, his excitement impossible to fight off. “We'll be back in time for lunch, yeah? It's still pretty early.”
	[i]It's early? [/i]I thought, with a mental frown. [i]What happened to 'It's practically noon...?'[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Um... Yeah, I guess we can go now, but-”
	“-Awesome! Okay, let's do it. Put on your shoes and let's [i]go.”[/i] Both his legs tapped nervously against the floor. “Dang, I am so psyched now! Let's go, let's go!”
	“Okay, okay,” I tossed my feet over the side of the bed and began putting putting my shoes on. “Keep your claws on....”
	The moment I begrudgingly pried myself from my bed, Joseph hurriedly led me through the hallways of West-End. We emerged from the front and immediately turned to walk against the side of the building like last time.
	I could see the spot where we'd entered the woods, no obvious trail from the outside; the only sign larger life had ever walked that spot at all were the slightly disheveled weeds that swayed just below the lofty tree branch that hung directly in front of it.
	He looked back and forth, to make sure nobody was watching us—even though I suspected people had seen him enter the woods at least a few times in the several years he'd been traveling it.
	“You know what, Leonidus?” He said, pulling the branch out the way for me.
	“You can just call me Leo,” I interjected.
	“Oh. Okay, Leo! ...Hehehe, that helps my point. I was gonna say you act really mature for your age, yeah?”
	“I do?”
	“Yeah! I mean, you don't act as mature as me—obviously--and not as mature as some of the older brothers like Scott.... But for a twelve year old, you're really smart. And kind too, y-yeah?”
	“Oh,” I couldn't keep myself from smiling. “Thanks. I guess I should be proud.”
	“Yeah, I think so. Some of the younger kids who come here—though, I'll admit they're not usually twelve—can be little monsters, yeah? Then again, it usually takes them a couple weeks to really fit into the place, so maybe if I just wait a bit....”
	I chuckled. “I don't think I am going to turn into a monster. At least I hope not.”
	“Hehehe, I don't think so either.” He paused. “I really hope you don't either.”
	We walked for a bit in silence. I stayed as close to Joseph as I could, keeping my eyes on his back and around his feet to keep from stumbling or looking around too much.
	“Oof!” The moment I made the mistake of looking away, Joseph came to a stop and I plowed directly into his back. He didn't budge.
	“Shhh....” With the exception of extending a hushing hand, he remained perfectly still, his ears erect and his eyes glazed over the bush next to us, half focused on it, half empty, as if only a small fraction of his energy was worth delegating to the facilities of sight.
	My breath went shallow and my tail curled downward, between my legs. This was the first time I'd ever seen Joseph do something like this; normally he didn't stop for anything. What could he have heard? Had he seen something? Had something seen [i]us?[/i] Was there something in that bush just inches away from us?
	After standing in abject terror for what felt like eternity, Joseph looked back at me:
	“Stay here,” he whispered. “I'll be right back.”
	“Wh... But I....”
	He disappeared into the brush, his image vanishing almost immediately, the sound of his steps having never manifested in the first place.
	I stood alone, the sound of buzzing and humming and leaves swishing around me. With no furry back to distract my eyes, all I could do was look around the wide, wooded area; my imagination turning bushes and innocent formations of sticks into malevolent beasts beyond my ability to fully conceptualize.
	Whether or not I could momentarily identify what it was about any one spot in this maddening picture that made me want to collapse to the ground in tears was irrelevant, as it was more that each of the perceived pieces involved invoked a sense of terror, and in some sinister, cyclical process of self-creation and self-affirmation, they each took on the shapes I most dreaded to find, while seemingly taking on no consistent shapes at all.
	“J-Joseph...?” I mumbled, arms beginning to shake. “Oh, no. Oh, no....!”
	My head whipped back and forth, as if I were watching walls encroach from all angles, moving in a decrepit, angular fashion with the sole purpose of crushing me. I took a deep breath, but still felt a grasping desire for more air. I quickly exhaled and went to inhale ag-
	“-GOT IT!”
	A large, furry object erupted from the bush, a squirming, sentient tube of beast clutched in it's hand. The squirming tube was abruptly shoved toward my face. I stumbled back and my foot caught on a root. I fell into the bush behind us, and then on to the ground.
	“Check it out!” Joseph grinned. “I caught the little bastard!” The squirming tube turned out to be a snake; it's jaw pincered between his thumb and forefinger. “Pretty cool, right...? Hey.... Are you okay?”
	Joseph's expression of triumph melted into a look of worry as he approached me and kneeled down.
	“Erh!” I pulled away from the snake in his hand.
	“O-Oh, um, sorry....” He got up and released the snake, sending it slithering in the opposite direction. “Hey, a-are you... are you okay?”
	Tears streamed down my face and I shook my head through small, stifled sobs.
	“H-Hey, I'm... I'm really sorry! Really! I didn't mean to... to scare you so much!” He reached to put a hand on my shoulder, but pulled back and looked at it for a moment. “I won't do it again—I swear! Oh, c-crap! Please don't hate me for this!”
	I sniffed. “Joseph....” I muttered.
	“Y-Yeah?” He leaned in.
	“I....”
	He leaned in a bit closer.
	“I....”
	“You?” He turned his ear toward me. “What's wrong?”
	“I... had an accident.”
	He pursed his brow in confusion and turned to face me. “A what?”
	“I-I wet myself.”
	“You... wet yourself?” His tone and gaze were stern, as if he were having trouble understanding what those words altogether meant.
	I nodded, a fresh wave of tears overflowing from my eyes.
	He looked down at my lap and then back up at me. The features of his face were taut and difficult to discern. After several moments, his lips spread, as if in mild shock. “Leo, did you... piss in your pants?”
	I cried harder in response.
	 He looked off into the woods. “Shit....”
	“C-Can w-we go back?”
	“No!” He snapped back.
	I flinched. “B-But wh-”
	“-No, I can't take you back there like this. They would...” He looked down at my lap again. “No, I just... No, no, no....”
	The crying stopped and confusion set in. Joseph nibbled on his lower lips, looking around the woods as if he were seeking a saving grace.
	[i]Why is he so stressed? I'm the one who... embarrassed himself.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Okay...” He nodded. “Okay, I.... I think I know what we can do, yeah? Yeah, we'll go to my secret place. And, we can work out everything there. Yeah... That should work.”
	“S-Secret place?”
	“Here,” he extended a hand for me to grab. “Let's go get you cleaned up.”
	***
	Joseph led me further down the trail, and within a few minutes he turned and began walking off road. I realized quickly that I'd taken his makeshift, light-stepped path for granted. This was a non-stop trek through brush, some of it soft and unimposing, but most of it dense, hard, and sometimes even spiked.
	The sodden fabric of my shorts stuck to my bottom and rubbed against my thighs with each step. The fabric of my robes occasionally swung forward and rubbed against the exposed portion of my legs, immediately reminding me of what had happened if I were lucky enough to get my mind off it for longer than a second.
	“Um, J-Joseph...?” I pushed two long, thin branches out of the way—one with each hand—only to find a third lodged directly in front of my chest. “Where are we going?”
	“We're going to my secret place, yeah?”
	“Your secret place?” I pressed.
	“Yes, my secret place. Very mysterious, yeah?”
	“O-Oh.” I frowned, knowing that I was in no position to feel frustrated, but still wishing he'd given me a little more than 'very mysterious, yeah?' That level of vagueness seemed a bit... cheap.
	What confounded me the most was how this 'secret place' located deep in the woods could somehow remedy my woes. Unless it turned out to be a tailor's shop that had opened a tab with a poor, eccentric orphan, and had against all odds managed to survive literally in the middle of nowhere, I was pretty much stuck in my wet, stale-smelling clothes.
	“Will we at least be there soon?”
	“Yes,” Joseph answered. “It's about the same distance as my training spot.”
	“...I'm guessing you don't go there very often.”
	“Hmm?” He glanced back at me. “Why do you say that, yeah?”
	“Well, uh,” I dislodged myself from a particularly bad patch of thorns. “The path is kinda... rough.”
	“Yes, [i]here [/i]it's rough. That's because I have an actual path somewhere else, but I figured you didn't want to spend the extra time going all the way around.”
	My frown tightened with guilt. Joseph had ultimately chosen this path for my comfort, and his going first meant he was taking the brunt of the sticks and thorns, and he'd torn no small amount of debris out of the way for me.
	“By the way,” he continued. “If you pee yourself again, try to do it a little bit closer to the training spot. I have a path there.”
	I blushed and looked down at my feet.
	He glanced back at me again and snorted. “Don't feel too bad about it, yeah? Could happen to anyone. Really.”
	“Y-Yeah?”
	“Yeah, definitely.”
	“Could it happen to you?” I asked, a bit amused.
	“Nope.” He replied quickly, as if he were expecting the question. “I'm not a little kid.”
	I frowned. “Hey!”
	“Hehehe. Don't worry, you're twelve. You're a little kid either way, yeah? So nothing to worry about.”
	“...Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
	“Maybe. Maybe it is supposed to make [i]me[/i] feel better, yeah? ...An awful lot of thorns out here.”
	[i]For someone so concerned about me, [/i]I thought. [i]He sure likes teasing.[/i]
[i]	[/i]After a bit more walking, I heard a noise far off. It sounded like a wall of sound; it was faint because of the distance, but it sounded... unique, as if it were strong enough to swallow up all the sounds around it.
	“What's that?” I asked.
	“What's what?”
	I frowned. “The noise. What's that noise?”
	“Oh.” Joseph paused a moment. “You'll see, yeah?”
	I frowned harder. “Why don't you just tell me?”
	“Because it wouldn't be much of a [i]secret[/i] if I told you now, yeah?”
	Deciding it wasn't worth pursuing this conversation any further, I scoffed and peeled another branch of thorns from my robe.
	The sound grew more intense with every step we took. What had started off as a hiss had turned into a continuous crash, and up ahead I could see a clearing where the sunlight flowed uninhibited and sparkled in the air.
	It was at about this point that'd I guessed the secret behind Joseph's second, private area. We emerged into the clearing; before us, a pond as clear as the sky, a waterfall white like the clouds falling continuously like a non-stop rain funneled into one long tube of water.
	“Wow!” I cooed. “This is... this is...!”
	“Awesome?” Joseph finished. “I know, yeah? Just don't tell anybody about it, or'else they're all gonna come here and ruin it.”
	I took a few step forward, the thin spots of grass growing thinner as the dirt turned to a healthy, white sand. I stepped into the clear water and wriggled my toes, that same sand now like silk.
	“But... isn't that kinda selfish? This place is amazing!”
	“Just trust me, Leo. [i]Trust me.”[/i]
[i]	[/i]Deciding this topic was also not worth pursuing, I took a few steps forward, letting the hem of my robe slip under the water.
	“Go ahead,” Joseph began. “Don't be afraid to get your clothes wet, yeah? That's why we're here. To wash off. Plus, you weren't afraid to get them wet earlier, yeah?”
	I looked back at him and frowned.
	“Hehehe.”
	Without waiting for him to contrive any other witticisms, I went forward into the water, submerging myself up to my neck.
	“Hmm,” I looked up at him. “Are you gonna get in too?”
	It was his turn to frown. “Um, no.... I'm alright. I don't... really wanna get wet or anything.” He forced a smile, but it only made him look more suspicious.
	I gave him a curious look. “You... sure? The water's really nice. And I'd feel bad if you were just sitting there waiting on me.”
	“Naaaaah,” He drawled. “I'm okay. Really.” He hopped up on a big stone overlooking the pool and sat with his legs crossed.
	“Should I hurry, then? I don't wa-”
	“-No, no! You don't have to hurry or anything, yeah? Just take your time and have fun. I... I am enjoying just sitting here. It is nice out here, yeah? I don't [i]have [/i]swim to have a good time. Sometimes I just come here to sit around. So take your time, yeah? No rush.”
	I cocked a brow. “Al-right....” I pushed back through the water, still looking at him. He was looking back at me, clearly making an attempt to look inconspicuous.
	After having cleaned my robe to a point I deemed acceptable, I slipped it off and tossed it on the rock Joseph was on. He took it and spread it out, so it would dry in the sun.
	I lounged around, wading through the water up to about my neck before turning back and heading closer to shore. I repeated this several times until Joseph spoke up.
	“How come you aren't going any deeper?”
	“Oh,” I chuckled ruefully. “It's just... I, uh, I can't really swim.” The coolness of the water made me extra aware of my blush. “I know I'm a little old to be saying that, but I never really had a chance to learn....”
	“Oh! I could show you sometime! I'm a natural at it, yeah?”
	“You could? That would be... cool!”
	“Yep! I could make you an [i]awesome [/i]swimmer! The best around here! Well, second best. It's a common fact the student can't surpass the master, yeah?”
	“Um, isn't it the other way around? Isn't that... the point? “
	“The point...? The point of what?”
	“Th-Th-The point of the m-master. To teach the student so he passes the master.”
	Joseph looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly collected himself. “Heh, yes, well.... Not in the world of swimming, yeah? It is different in swimming. Especially when I am the master, yeah?” He swelled with pride.
	“But, if the student couldn't pass the master, then wouldn't the students just get worse and worse...? Until eventually nobody could swim at all...? Wouldn't we all just lose the ability to swim, and then wade, and then eventually we'd just-”
	“-Okay, okay! Maybe it doesn't apply to [i]swimming[/i]. But it [i]does [/i]apply to me. You can't pass me, alright?” He cleared his throat thoughtfully. “Because I am the master.”
	I giggled. “You say that, but... I still haven't seen you actually [i]do the thing[/i].”
	“No need. You may take it on faith, knave. Or do you doubt me?!”
	“I don't doubt you.” I said with a smile. “Feeling excited, though.... I wonder when I'll finally get these awesome, super-cool lessons you promised me.”
	“Well, I d-didn't [i]promise....[/i]” His voice trailed off when he saw the sudden disappoint that inadvertently appeared on my face. “Okay, okay, I'll... [i]do it,[/i] just not now.”
	“Hmm. Okay!” I said, pushing myself back again through the water. A few seconds of silence passed before I spoke up again. “Hey, Joseph?”
	“Yeah?” He answered.
	“I know you said you don't wanna swim, and that's okay, but... why? And I know you said the thing about not wanting to get wet, but is that the real reason?”
	“Pft, y-yeah! Of course that's the real reason. What other reason could I have, yeah?” He crossed his arms. “And if you're thinking I can't swim, you're [i]totally[/i] wrong, yeah? It's nothing like that.”
	“Oh.... So does that mean the stuff you said before was a lie?”
	“...H-huh?”
	“That you can swim? Is it that you actually can't and just don't want me to know?”
	“Wh-what?! I just s-said... I said that it was—it wasn't!--that! I [i]can [/i]swim. Oh, can I swim! I can swim better than a, than a, than a... river. Y-yeah?”
	“...You can swim better than a river?”
	“[i]Much [/i]better than a river. I'm like a river, except with fins and scales and other fishy bits.” He nodded.
	“...So you're a fish?”
	“I am a [i]mental fish.[/i]”
	“I'm pretty sure you're just trying to distract me.” I responded, half unamused, half extremely amused.
	“I'm just making a point, yeah? I [i]can [/i]swim.” He said with finality.
	“That doesn't tell me anything, though! There has to be a reason you don't wanna swim.... I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me.”
	A pang of guilt crossed his face. He turned away from me, his arms still crossed. He looked as if he was trying to put on haughty airs, as if I were in the wrong for pressing him, but his face betrayed him. There was something on his mind he desperately wanted to get out.
	I swam up to the rock and rested my hand on it. “You can tell. I'm not gonna laugh.”
	“I... didn't think you'd laugh... yeah?”
	I paused a few moments, for effect. “So why don't you wanna swim?”
	I saw his throat bob with a heavy swallow, and a moment later I heard a heavy sigh escape his throat. “It's just... I... I don't....” He made a shaking motion with one hand, as if he were half attempting to use it to articulate the missing word.
	“Yeah?” I asked.
	“I don't... like...” He passed a few seconds as a look of intense nausea came over his face. “I don't like taking my shirt off.... Like, in front of people, yeah?!”
	I squinted, and took a moment to consider this.
	“Um... that's it?”
	His head jerked in my direction and one of his eyelids twitched.
	“U-uh, I mean, it's just... not that big of a deal, is all. You made it seem like you were allergic to water or something.”
	“I am [i]not [/i]allergic to water!” He barked.
	“O-oh... Okay, sorry.” I backed away a bit.
	He swallowed and turned away again, his cheeks blushing an intense shade of red. “No, it's... fine. I'm sorry. I've just never told anyone that before.”
	[i]You haven't? [/i]I thought in surprise. It only took a moment of consideration for it to make sense. Joseph had been an orphan for a good portion of his life, and his dad had never cared much for him—but even when it made sense the thought still sent a wave of discomfort through my bowels. [i]Even something like this? He lived without having anyone he could trust or talk to or tell secrets to? Even secrets as small as THIS?[/i]
	 “You, uh, you don't have to if you don't want, but maybe now would be a good chance to practice?”
	He looked at me in surprise. “P-Practice?”
	“Yeah, practice... You trust me, right? You trusted me enough to tell me that. Maybe now would be a perfect time to... give it a shot? P-Plus,” I went on, immediately seeing the anxiety in his expression. “You'd be able to get in the water and hide yourself right after anyway! Right?”
	His jaw moved around awkwardly and he looked down at me. “I guess that's... true....”
	I let a few polite seconds of silence pass and then continued urging him on: “So.... You wanna try it?”
	He remained perched on his rock for a few moments, and then he glanced over at me, an uncertain expression plastered on his face. “I guess I could do that.” He answered with what sounded like a sigh and a deep breath all at the same time.
	He got to his feet in a way that was uncharacteristically deliberate and stood there, looking around awkwardly.
	“Not here....” He mumbled.
	Joseph hopped off the rock with a surprisingly graceful motion and then walked a bit away, to where the sand met some striving blades of grass.
	“Okay,” he said, “I'm, um, gonna do it, yeah?”
	I smiled back at him, slightly amused at how big of a deal he was making this, and slightly guilty over my own amusement.
	He swallowed, hard enough to make his entire neck bob. His hands rested by his hips, clutching the hems of his shirts, possibly more out of a need to clutch something than out of an actual intention to remove the fabric. Several moments passed.
	“Um....”
	“I'm gonna do it! Just me a minute... yeah? This is... really weird.”
	“It's just a shirt....”
	“Urgh!” He let go of the hem of his shirt. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, yeah?”
	“No! It [i]is [/i]a good idea! I didn't mean anything. I just.... What's wrong? Is there something you don't want me to see?”
	“No.”
	“Is there some reason you need to be wearing a shirt?”
	“No.”
	“Is there something wrong with your fu-”
	“No! There is nothing wrong with me!”
	I sat in silence for a moment, unsure of how to carry on without spooking him any further.
	“O-Okay, look... just don't... [i]look [/i]at me. Don't pay any attention to me, yeah? Go on with your swimming and let me have some privacy....”
	“Um, okay. Just don't like wonder off into the woods.... I don't wanna be alone, and I'm kinda worried if you take your shirt off in the woods you'll never come back out.”
	“Ha, ha, ha,” he laughed sardonically. “Jokes on you, yeah? I could just put the shirt back on.”
	I smiled and turned my back to him, and did my best to focus on the water around me.
	From the corner of my eyes, however, I could still see him standing there, in what seemed like anxiety and deep contemplation. He turned around and stood there with his back facing me.
	It took several minutes, but eventually his shirt came off. He managed to turn partially sideways, but hadn't turned all the way. All I could see was the black and white fur of his back and sides, and a bit of his exposed arm.
	At this point, I felt pretty confident he was hiding something from me. I wasn't sure what—maybe a scar? a weird fur pattern? third nipple?--but whatever it was, it [i]had [/i]to be embarrassing. Overcome with curiosity, I stole frequent glances in his direction, but he was watching me, and thus caught every glance.
	Feeling like I was getting nowhere, and in fact, inhibiting the natural process known as Joseph removing a shirt, I turned completely around and proceeded to ignore him in a way truer to what had been initially agreed upon.
	In a few minutes, I'd mostly forgotten Joseph was even over there. I splashed some water around, using my fingers to make cool looking waves in the water; when suddenly I heard his voice and looked up.
	It echoed throughout the small grove, and instead of it coming from behind like I would have expected, it had come from [i]above[/i].
	I looked up and saw him standing on the top of a huge chuck of rock, nearly as high as the waterfall itself.
	“Hey, Leo!”
	“Whoa!” I responded, finding his shirtless profile—still faced away from me—standing at the top of the stone, half turned around to meet me with a grin. “How did you-!”
	“-Wanna see something cool, yeah?”
	“Um.... Yes?”
	“Okay! Watch this!” Joseph took a backward step toward the cliff.
	“Wait.... Joseph! You're not... you're not gonna...!”
	Before I had a chance to inquire further, Joseph kneeled down and then launched himself back and up, into the air, over the water.
	He flipped in the air, and then, with his feet aimed at the water and his back still facing me, and he fell in a way that could only be described as loosely, and then slipped into the water with a nearly imperceptible splash.
	I stood there, taken aback, eyes fervently traveling the clear water for Joseph's body. I could see a black form floating in the deep end. It sprang to life and launched upward, surfacing with the ferocity of an amphibian hunter.
	“Heh.” He grinned at me. “Pretty cool, right?”
	I exhaled suddenly and deeply, realizing just then I'd been holding my breath the entire time. “Oh Gaol...!”
	“Hehehe.” He swam toward me.
	“I can't believe you just did that.”
	“Did what?”
	“Oh nothing. Just a [i]backflip [/i]off the top of a [i]cliff [/i]into a [i]pond![/i]”
	“It's no big deal,” he said all too casually and still smiling. “It took a lot of practice to get it right, but I do it all the time, yeah?”
	“You do that [i]all the time? [/i]But that's so... dangerous!”
	“It's cool, though, yeah?”
	“W-Well, it's super cool. It's probably the coolest thing I have ever seen anyone do. Ever. ...But that doesn't-”
	“-Then that's all that matters, yeah?”
	“Of course that isn't all that-!”
	“-Don't worry about it.” He swam around me in circles. “I'm a professional.”
	I frowned.
	“Hehehe,” he slipped under the water and swam out to the deep end, his form disappearing into the glare of the sun.
	A thought hit me: t[i]he shirt! He isn't wearing it![/i]
[i]	[/i]When Joseph swam back up, I did my best to keep my eyes level with his, but couldn't resist occasional glances toward his now exposed chest. The water made it difficult to see the details, and he seldom came out above his neck, but from what I could gather, there was... nothing particularly odd about it.
	In fact, it was [i]nice. [/i]His muscles were tight and developed, and there didn't seem to be even a fragment of unneeded mass on his body. Even with my little knowledge of art, the first thought to came to my mind was one of sculptures, and how with a few years of training and growth, Joseph could make an excellent model.
	[i]But why? [/i]I thought. [i]If there is nothing wrong with him, why was he so nervous about removing his shirt in front of me? Could he just be shy?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I cocked an eyebrow and squinted at him.
	[i]He doesn't really... seem shy.[/i]
[i]	[/i]A large wave of water shot toward my face an instant after Joseph surfaced.
	“Hey!”
	He dived back down, dodging the wave I sent flying in his direction. When he came back out, he spit a stream of water from his mouth and grinned. “You're gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna splash me.”
	Another small tsunami of water coated my face and the air around me. I reflexively sent more water in his direction before I'd even opened my eyes, but dived before I could see if it made contact or not.
	He resurfaced again, this time further away. “Hehehe.”
	“That's no fair! I can't get you if you're all the way out there in the deep end!”
	“Why don't you just [i]swim [/i]out here and join me, yeah?”
	I frowned and sent another wave of water in his direction. He slipped under the water and came back up when it settled. “[i]Oh yeah[/i],” he drawled, “I almost forgot....”
	“That's no fair at all! You said you were gonna teach me how to swim.”
	“Of course. But only after I have some fun first, yeah?”
	“Tch!” I crossed my arms and pushed myself backward toward shore.
	“Aww, come on, don't be like that, yeah?”
	“Try getting me over here....”
	His eyes moved in a strange, squinty way and an instant later, he slipped beneath the surface and shot in my direction. I stood up a bit straighter, suddenly regretting my words.
	When he made it within a few feet, he paused under the water and stared at me as if he were in planning. I readied myself, and a few moments later he shot up from the water. We both sent a typhoon's worth of water in the others respective direction.
	“I got you!”
	“Hmpf! You satisfied now?” He floated on his back, eyes to the sky.
	“Yes,” I said with a smug smile. “But I still want to know how to swim and you don't have any excuses now!”
	He looked over at me with surprise. “I guess I did say I would....”
	“Yep! And now you don't have any more excuses.”
	“You already said that, yeah? Like five seconds ago.”
	“Yes, because I wanna make sure you don't try to get out of it.”
	“Okay,” he sighed and swam over to me. “Now that you can see I can swim, you know that wasn't why I was avoiding it before.”
	“Uh huh.”
	“The truth is, I was more worried about the actual... teaching part, yeah?”
	[i]I thought the shirt thing was the problem.... [/i]I remarked internally.
	“I don't think I've ever been taught anything before,” he went on. “Other than Scott teaching me about the wealth dis-par-rity and stuff. But that's different. He didn't actually teach me [i]how [/i]to dis-pair-ridge wealth, yeah?”
	I cocked an eyebrow.
	“What I mean is I don't know anything about teaching, yeah? I've never really seen how to do it.”
	“So the problem isn't the swimming; you just don't know how to [i]teach?[/i]”
	“Yeah....” He frowned a bit, floating on his back again. “I'm not sure where to begin, yeah?”
	“So...” I squinted. “Nobody taught you how to swim...? How did you learn, then?”
	“How I learned most things.... I taught myself.”
	“You taught yourself...? But that's.... You just jumped in the water and figured it out?”
	“W-Well, yeah....” He spoke with a sudden lack of confidence. “I didn't have a choice, yeah?”
	A brief silence passed over us as I considered this in depth.
	[i]Did he really not have anyone to teach him how to swim? Did he not have anyone to teach him [/i]anything?[i] How did he survive all this time like this? Out here in the woods doing flips and swimming like some kind of amphibious fur monster?[/i]
[i]	[/i]“But I'll teach you. Learning stuff without a teacher sucks, yeah?” He looked at me with a half-smile. “You'll just have to... bear with me a bit.”
	“Hmm, okay. Um, thanks. I dunno if I could have done this on my own.”
	“Heh, you'd be surprised the kinds of things you can do on your own when you really want to, yeah? Anyway,” he swam a bit closer. “I guess we should start off by... paddling, I guess. If you try to learn in the shallow end, it'll be a lot easier; that's how I learned.”
	“O-Oh, okay.” I swam forward a bit, where I could still reach the sand below with my feet. “And, um, if I slip into the deep end on accident, you'll... pull me out, right?”
	“No, I'm just gonna let you drown and die so be extra careful.”
	I frowned and he grinned in response. “Yeah, thanks....”
	“Okay, start paddling. The sooner you learn to do this, the sooner we can race.”
	“I'm pretty sure it'll take me a little while before I can race you....”
	“Yeah, yeah, sure. Just start paddling. While we're young, yeah?”
	[i]Worried about teaching, huh? But you're already doing such a great job....[/i]
	I pushed against the sand and struggled to pull myself forward with my hands. Several times I had the sensation I'd gotten the hang of it, but each time my chin sank below the waterline and my feet reflexively went down to the sandy floor to push me up.
	“Okay, um, try to... smack the water a little less.”
	“What?” I called out over the cacophony of splashing—from both my hands and the waterfall.
	“You're splashing too much, yeah? Swimming isn't like that. Swimming is a... fishy kinda motion.”
	I stopped swimming and looked over at him. “...What is a fishy kind of motion?”
	His face scrunched up, as if he were simultaneously in deep thought and slight pain. “It's... like... moving like a fish does, yeah?”
	“What does that even mean?!”
	“Ehh, don't worry about it. Just try swimming again. This time with less... flailing.”
	“Okay...” I pushed off and made another, less aggressive, attempt. I immediately failed, so quickly that it made me realize my previous form had been slightly less awful. I started kicking my legs harder to make up for the loss in force coming from my arms, which helped, but it only brought me to about the same level of success I'd been at prior.
	“This isn't working!”
	“Oh, yeah, I know.” He remarked, a hand on his chin. “This is going awful. Maybe you'll just never be able to swim, yeah?”
	I frowned, harder than I had yet. “It's been like five minutes!”
	“Yes, but the first five minutes is the most important five minutes, yeah?” He leaned back and floated on his back. “If you can't get it in the second five minutes, I'd say you're doomed.”
	“Grrr,” I splashed water in his direction. “You're not doing much teaching, you know?”
	He spit water from his mouth. “I dunno what to teach you, though. Like I said, I learned to do this on my own, yeah? On account of my natural talent.”
	I took a moment to reconsider why I ever even stopped frowning, as it would be much easier to just maintain it around him.
	I sighed. “Okay... I think the problem is that... I just don't know what to do. I'm [i]trying [/i]to mimic what you do, but it just isn't working.”
	“You want me to show you again?” He offered.
	“Yes; I have another idea too, though. Swim over here.”
	He did as I asked, and I studied his strides as best I could over the short distance.
	“Okay, I'm gonna try to do what you did, but, I want you to hold me up. Every time I try to do it, I... I end up sinking and my legs get all messed and my body bends and I just can't move right. I think if you help keep me straight I'll be able to figure it out.”
	Joseph's eyebrows sank and his jaw went loose. It looked as if his chest had sucked up all the tension in his body.
	“You... want me to hold you up... yeah?” He looked down at the water in open-lipped contemplation, and then up at me, and then quickly shifted to look past me, as if he could no longer maintain eye contact.
	“Uh huh. You're okay with this... right?”
	“Yeah... yeah.... It's just, um....” His eyes darted back and forth. “I-I... I'd have to... touch you, yeah?”
	I leaned in a bit, feeling I'd misheard him. “Uh, what?”
	“We'd have t-to... touch. Like, if I held you up, yeah? I'd have to... lift you... with my hands.”
	“Y---es? What's the problem?”
	“Um.... That's gay, yeah?”
	Several moments of silence passed between us.
	I blinked. “What's... gay?”
	He pulled back in shock, but stopped himself short of flabbergastery. “You don't know what [i]gay[/i] is?”
	“I-I mean.... I've heard the word.[i] [/i]But, no, I dunno.”
	“Um, gay is... it's, uh... it's like when... two guys... like, um, kinda like, they....” His hands went to fists and back to hands again, moving around the entire while. “Uh, they like... um, you know... they, uh... you know, yeah? Like, [i]you know. [/i]Yeah?[i]”[/i]
	“I don't know what any of that meant.”
	He cringed a bit. “Gay is... two guys... like, doing... gay stuff. Touchy stuff. [i]Fish stuff[/i], yeah?” The tip of his tail flipped out of the water and smacked against the surface like a trout.
	“F-Fish stuff?” I said with mild alarm. “What is fish stuff?”
	“You know....”
	“No! No, I don't!”
	“[i]Fish stuff. [/i]Slimy stuff. Touchy-feely stuff, yeah?”
	“Touchy-feely stuff...? You mean, like... what a boy and a girl do when they like each other...?”
	“Yeah, that kinda thing, yeah?”
	“Oh....” I furled my brow. “How is this like that at all?”	
	“It's because I'd be.... touching you. And, neither of us are really dressed and, and, it just seems gay, yeah? Really gay.”
	“...Doesn't seem all that gay to me.” I muttered.
	“Well it is! It's gay. It's [i]super [/i]gay and [i]super [/i]fishy and, and e-even if it isn't, I'm not gonna do it. I can't do that; it's too weird!”
	I responded with a dead-pan. “Yeah, okay.”
	He cocked a brow. “...Anyway, since I can't be over there getting all... fishy with you, you're just gonna have to figure out how to do it by watching me.”
	“Uh huh.” I turned away. “ I guess I don't have much of a choice.”
	This time it was Joseph's turn to frown. “Come on.... Don't be like that....”
	“No, it's fine.”
	“... It doesn't sound fine, yeah?”
	“No, really. It's okay.”
	Joseph watched me make faulty attempts at swimming for a few moments before he sighed loudly and swam over. “Okay, I'll... try it. I'll see if I can hold you up, yeah? But I'm not gonna do this long—and you better not tell [i]anyone[/i] about this. Ever. Ever ever.”
	A smile spread out over my lips. “Okay! I promise.”
	“Good.” He moved over to me. “Okay, so.... How do we do this, yeah?”
	“I was thinking I'd just hop up and you'd hold me up in your arms. That way I could get a better feel for swimming when I'm up high enough.”
	“...And this is supposed to help how?”
	“I dunno if it [i]will [/i]help. I just wanna try it.”
	He swallowed. “Alright, whatever, yeah? Let's just... do this, yeah?”
	“Mmmk, put your hand on my belly.”
	Joseph looked down toward my belly and pulled his lower lip into his mouth. “You want me to put my hand on your belly?”
	“Yeah.” I nodded.
	His hands clenched into fists. Our eyes met and he quickly looked away, but immediately looked back up at me.
	“...Is something wrong?” I asked.
	“Um....” His cheeks began to redden and he breathing quickened. “It's just... um....” He reached out for my stomach under the water, reluctantly.
	“Uh, Joseph?”
	He closed his eyes and pressed his lips so tightly together they looked white. His hand approached me, but the closer it came to touching me, the slower it moved. A few inches shy of my belly button, he came to a stop and opened his eyes, a look of crushing anxiety and paralyzing fear on his face.
	“I-I-I'm sorry. I can't do this.” He turned away and swam off, his eyes wide and his cheeks glowing.
	“O-Oh....”
	He made an attempt to walk up on the shore, but after a quick downward glance--presumably to his exposed chest--he backpedaled into the water. He remained facing away from me, wringing his hand nervously, probably picking at one of his claws.
	“Hey, um, I'm... sorry. I didn't realize it made you so uncomfortable.... I knew it made you uncomfortable, but I didn't-”
	“-It's okay.”
	My shoulders slumped in the resulting silence.
	“I just... I can't [i]do [/i]that, yeah? I can't touch other people... like that. And don't ask me why; I don't know. I just can't do it.”
	“Okay. I'm-” I stopped myself. “...It won't happen again, alright?”
	“Okay. Thank you... yeah?”
	I stood there watching him for several moments. He continued to face away from me, his head aimed toward the water. I couldn't see his face, but a strong sensation of guilt told me the look on it was dejected.
	“So, um.... We can get out if you want to.” I offered.
	“No,” he almost whispered, but caught himself and raised his voice. “We don't have to do that. Just keep practicing your swimming.”
	I pouted a bit. “Okay...” I pushed myself back into the water and flipped around to practice my strokes, but the moment I went to put my foot down to stop my slow descent into the water, I suddenly realized there was no ground to put my foot down on.
	I'd pushed back too far, and in the sudden panic of my head bobbing under water, I ended up pushing myself back further, into an even more helpless position. Thankfully, the flail was enough to get my head above long enough to loudly choke on water.
	The last thing I saw before everything went murky and blue was Joseph flipping around. Beyond the instinctive reaction of my lungs being suddenly filled with water, I wasn't afraid. I knew in just a few moments Joseph would wrangle me free from the water; if anything, I felt guilty, because I knew now how much the physical contact would-
	-Before I could completely vocalize the understanding in my thoughts, an arm wrapped around my waist, pulled me against something warm and alive, and yanked me to the surface.
	I gasped in shock, not sure whether it came from the fact I'd at first doubted the thing grabbing me was Joseph, or the surprise in finding him there, pulling me over to far shallower part of the pond.
	Actually, it was probably just me gasping for air.
	I coughed and spit a few times, rubbing my nose in pain. “Ugh,” I forced between coughs. “That all went... straight into my nose.”
	Joseph snorted. “Yeah, that tends to happen when you breathe water, yeah? Don't recommend it.”
	“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically, still coughing. “I'll try to remember that.”
	“No problem. I live to please, yeah?”
	It was my turn to snort.
	What I wanted to say to him was thanks for moving like a lightning bolt and for shocking me about as much as a lightning bolt would, but something inside me said not to mention it. It seemed vain to think Joseph wouldn't have moved so quickly for just anybody, and presumptuous to insinuate it by mentioning his pace, but mentally I couldn't help but regard it with some degree of competing emotions—emotions that by and large made me feel good.
	There had been something satisfying in seeing the abject shock in his expression when he turned around to see me sinking. Despite the cold wind blowing against wet fur, chilling me to the bone, I felt a warmness that went deeper than the bone. A sort of warmth I'd last felt with Mrs. Shire and that I'd missed desperately.
	That night I slept soundly.

Chapter Six
Gregory

	Gregory pushed back his perpetually damp covers and threw his legs over the side of his stiff mattress. He rested his head in his hands.
	[i]I can't sleep....[/i]
[i]	[/i]He had a small, brown, block room at the end of a hall connected to several other identical rooms. Each with a single bed, a single desk, and a single candle. Every Alchemist that lived in the Alchemist's Cave had their room in that hallway—all except for Phreqs, who allegedly did not sleep and did all of his work in view of the rest of the coven.
	'It is to amplify his anguish.' Ken had told him. 'Sometimes he will drift off, maybe an hour a week. But that's usually all, and sometimes he even does that with his eyes open.'
	Gregory had almost laughed when he heard, but Ken had made no indication it was a joke, and Phreqs had given him no reason to doubt the truth of it.
	The moment Gregory was out of sight, he'd shuddered all over.
	[i]What kind of madness is this? [/i]He'd thought, suddenly terrified. [i]How is that... humanely possible?[/i]
[i]	[/i]He rose from his bed and moved toward the door. “Is it even still dark out....? He mumbled.
	I[i]'ll go check. I need some fresh air anyway.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Emerging into the hallway told him nothing. The walls were made of the same large, chiseled, stone blocks, and on the walls were red torches.
	[i]Blood torches.... [/i]He thought. [i]Torches that never go out. Not as long as the one who lit them still lives....[/i]
[i]	[/i]The idea of blood torches had always disturbed him, even when he had still believed them to be a myth. His grandfather had told him stories about them, about how it was rumored there were cults who lived underground that never had to surface. They used dark magicks and underground creatures to sustain their lives. He claimed these 'cults' had discovered the magick needed to create blood torches, and they had done so to continue their necromancy and ancient Fractilizations in the peace of the inner Izyadro seclusion.
	[i]Does that mean they're real...? I'd always thought it was just a story. It might have [/i]been [i]just a story. But who's to say anymore? Everything I've ever thought I'd known has turned out to be a lie....[/i]
[i]	[/i]This thought made him uncomfortable. He pushed it from his mind and pushed on.
[i]	[/i]The hallways of the Alchemist's Cave were empty, as usual. Most of the Alchemist's were either out on business, in their rooms doing research, or performing rituals somewhere in the Cave.
	[i]I should probably be reading right now. I still haven't finished that book Phreqs gave me. [/i]Gregory arrived at the steps leading up to the entrance of the Cave. He moved up and squinted at the bright lights peaking through the cracked wood of the door above.[i] To study it and to reread it, and to do whatever necessary to understand it. That's what he told me to do, but... that's easier said than done. The whole thing is poems and aphorisms. Nothing new for occultic literature, but this is... different. It seems important, like the words [/i]do [i]add up, like it's all for a reason, like the weird poems and the strange comparisons... like they're all there for a reason. But that's not enough. This isn't something I can just rush through and hope it makes sense at the end. I have to understand this. I have to understand it [/i]all.[i] [/i]
[i]	According to Phreqs, it holds all the answers.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Gregory opened the door slowly, putting one hand in front of his eyes as he moved forward into the moist, forest air.
	[i]It's so bright out here compared to the Alchemist's Cave... but it smells so good, and the warm air feels so nice.[/i]
[i]	[/i]He closed the door behind him and stood there for awhile, letting the warmth wash over him and letting the smell of fresh pine wash his senses clear of the scent of moss and wet earth. After a few minutes of letting his eyes adjust, he moved forward, appreciating the world in a way he'd never done before.
	[i]It feels so good out here.... Everything looks... so beautiful.[/i]
[i]	[/i]The morning sun gleamed, the tip of it poking just above the treeline of the forest. A thick mist covered the forest, glowing gray, wafting around, thick enough to look like speckles of dust.
	[i]Even heavy mist is drier than the Cave....[/i]
[i]	[/i]He put his hand out and lifted the stem of a bush with far reaching blossoms. He let it sit in his hand, soft and green. He rubbed the leaves between his fingers and then smelled the vine like it was a flower.
	[i]Is this really the right place for me? [/i]He thought, his lips curling down into a frown. [i]Am I really an Alchemist? And if I'm not, how long can I pretend to be one...?[/i]
[i]	[/i]He let the vine go. It bounced a few times and then returned to bobbing gently in the wind. [i]But where else is there to go? What other place would have me? What other place would I be happy?[/i]
[i]	[/i]He kept on slowly walking, letting his head turn from side to side, taking in every inch of beautiful forest, inhaling the scent of nature deep into his lungs. [i]But it's so dark in there.... It's so dreary. All the Alchemist's I've met are weird, and the texts they study are weirder, and I knew that was a threat when I set out for this place, but that seemed... less of a problem when I thought they might be a hoax. I guess I knew deep down magick was real, but... when I could doubt it still, when I wasn't sure, then things didn't seem so....[/i]
[i]	[/i]He sighed, ashamed to even be thinking it. [i]I guess things didn't seem so real then. Blood torches and blood candles and blood magick didn't exist. The subtle arts of manipulation and control and devastation and the soul.... It wasn't this serious before. It was a distraction. It was a hope veiled in shadows, but now....[/i]
[i]	...But now there's Phreqs. There is an alleged man who doesn't sleep. A man who carries a scythe bigger than his own body. A man who thrives on anguish, who has followers, who has books of power and magicks that.. I couldn't even begin to imagine.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Gregory put a hand on his chest. His heart pounded.
	[i]I didn't know all of this was real. I didn't know magick was... this.[/i]
[i]	I want to go home.[/i]
[i]	But... I came here because I don't have a 'home' in the first place.[/i]
[i]	At least not a real one....[/i]
[i]	[/i]Gregory kept moving forward, deeper into the brush.
	[i]I could leave if I wanted to.... I could run away.[/i]
[i]	No more wet, cold rooms and no more scythes and no more... no more Peaches. I could put down occultic literature for good. I'd never have to pick it up again. And then maybe I'd... I'd forget. Maybe I'd become a normal person again.[/i]
[i]	Maybe things would stop hurting so much.[/i]
[i]	[/i]He stopped. His mind went blank like it had so many times in the past. He stared straight ahead, into the bushes, the vines, and trees, watching as the amalgamation of green and brown mingled into an indescribably intricate display of utter pointlessness.
	[i]No.[/i]
[i]	I'll never be normal. [/i]
[i]	I'll never put down the literature.[/i]
[i]	This is my only chance of things ever getting better.[/i]
[i]	If the Alchemist's are not... my people. [/i]Gregory stopped and looked up at the sky, deep into the blue-gray mist, covering the sun like a thick, wet blanket. [i]If this place isn't my home....[/i]
[i]	[/i]He swallowed. [i]Then I know what has to be done. I'll-[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Hello.”
	Gregory jerked his head to the right. Sitting on a large rock, encased in a cocoon of trees and thick bushes was a woman, her dark crimson Alchemist robes pulled up halfway across her pale yellow thighs.
	His eyes widened. “Oh, um... h-hello. I didn't see you there. Hello.” He turned his head away, but looked back a moment later. “S-Sorry. Sorry for, for um, interrupting. If I did.”
	She cocked her head and stared at him. Silence lingered between them for several smothering moments, until finally she laughed aloud.
	“And what exactly is it you think you interrupted?”
	Gregory looked back at her, at first confused. His look of confusion turned to shock, and then to horror. “ O-Oh, no, no, nothing like... nothing like that. I mean, nothing at all, I just wasn't sure. You were out here alone, and... I just kinda appeared... and I just-”
	“-Hmm, yes,” she cooed. “And you assumed I was doing the only thing a young lady would head out into the woods alone to do, yes?” She smiled at him and spoke with a slow, careful meticulousness, with a confidence he'd never heard from a woman before—it was a tone he'd only ever heard from the loftiest and haughtiest nobles.
	[i]A tone just like the most conceited and blindly self-important of the Fox Kin....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“And don't lie,” she went on, still smiling coolly. “Your blush will betray you if you do.”
	He pursed his brow a bit. [i]If she is a noble, then I know how deal with her.[/i]
	He straightened his spine and tightened his expression.“I only meant to be polite. I meant nothing by the comment; I was just caught off guard.” He put his arm in front of his belly and bowed a few inches. “Please forgive me.”
	Several oppressive moments of silence passed, then she laughed again, this time harder. “You're a [i]strange[/i] one! I tease you and you respond by treating me like a princess?” Her smile turned mischievous. “Do you treat every pretty, young girl like a princess??
	His neck tightened and a blush crept up on his cheeks. He desperately probed his mind for something clever to say, some kind of quip, something at least passable, but nothing came to him. Only silence and surprise. He'd always known what to say when his cousins had talked down to him, how to diffuse the situation or what quip to make if he was sore.
	[i]But no noble would ever speak like that.... [/i]He thought. [i]Nobles never address the fact that they're nobles. They never consider that their nobility is anything less than natural. To them, it should be obvious to everybody just by looking at them.[/i]
[i]	“[/i]Fen got your tongue?” She gave him a mocking look and then laughed again when he averted his eyes. “Enough.” She said, ushering him over with a gentle motion of the fingers. “Let us talk normally now. I suspect that the first, stuttering you, was the real you—not this overly formal one. Had your reaction not amused me so much, I'd regret teasing you.”
	Gregory pursed his brow a bit. '[i]I suspect the first you was the real you... not this one.'[/i]
[i]	She speaks strangely. Every word is started with elegance and said to completion. And she says things that... require thought. [/i]
[i]	[/i]Gregory took a few reluctant steps forward.
	“My name is Alexandra.”
	“I'm Gregory.”
	“Gregory... the fox.” She spoke slowly, like she were tasting the words. “It has a nice ring to it. I can't say I see many foxes in the Alchemists of the Moth.”
	“Alexandra the viper. That also has a nice ring to it.”
	She burst out in laughter again, this time harder.
	[i]Even when she laughs it's calm and under control. Is it possible that she's not a noble? I've never met a peasant like her before.... [/i]He ended the thought and pinched himself on the arm. ---[i]Stop doing that. People aren't peasants anymore....[/i]
[i]	“[/i]Impressive.” Alexandra cooed. “I don't believe I have ever been surprised so many times in such a short conversation. And yes, your eyes are keen—I am indeed a 'viper.' Though there are many vipers, and not many foxes. You are far more... interesting.”
	[i]Did the viper comment really not offend her? Even if it didn't, it was so obvious that I was slighting her....[/i]
[i]	...Did she not notice?[/i]
[i]	“[/i]There may be more northerners,” Gregory began. “But not many of them leave the north. I've heard plenty of interesting tales about what goes on up there, far more interesting than what goes on in the Royal Covens. In fact... some of the things I've heard have been rather strange.”
	“Oh? Strange?”
	“Yes. I hear that northerners... don't care. They don't care about anything at all. Th-That... they don't care about dying.”
	Alexandra smiled and blinked heavily.
	“I heard once that if you put a blade to the neck of any solider, even that of the Dominion, they'll cry out for their lives—but if you threaten to kill a northerner they'll just laugh.”
	“Mmm, yes, I am familiar with that old wives' tale. It is spoken about up north more than anywhere, since it seems to bring infinite pleasure to the northron warriors.” She chuckled. “And yes, I must admit, there is... a grain of truth to every spec of sand.”
	“So it's true?”
	“Well, the northron warriors are men, and the common folk are the same. They have fears and worries just like anybody else, and some are stronger than others.... But enough of that. What else do you find strange about us? Surely it isn't just because we're careless?”
	[i]Careless...? Does she mean carefree?[/i]
	“I find it strange how... northerners speak.”
	“Oh? She cooed. “And how do we speak that is so strange?”
	“You... um, well, the north... they speak so... differently. D-Differently than any other places. Even differently from themselves, which I guess is what makes it is so... peculiar.”
	“We speak differently from ourselves? Sounds challenging.”
	“I mean that I've met a few northerners and... they all kinda act differently. You're the strangest... I... I mean you're, um.... the most different.”
	“But how are we different from any other place? What makes us unique from the Republic on our borders? Wouldn't the Republic, a place that is united by means of its divisiveness, be the same as we are? The Republic hasn't even managed to unify the ban on slavery yet; how are they so alike as to exclude the north to a class of their own?”
	“It's... more that the north is so strange. There are customs that... the world recognizes. Things that seem to be intrinsic to man. Yet the north seems to have rebelled against them.”
	Her smiled widened. “My, my, you know an awful lot about the north.”
	I blushed again, though I wasn't sure why this time. “N-No, nothing like that. I just... kinda see it. It's from what I've heard and read. They don't play the same games at court that other places do, despite still having a king. They don't have the same.. standards. I don't know how to explain it.”
	“I believe I know what you are trying to describe. We call it 'respecting the jester.'”
	“Ah, yes! That's one of the things I find strange, that jesters are so... important in your society. And among all the united northern clans.”
	“It's not so much that they are important, as that they are not belittled. A person can do as they please in the Kingdom of Pianduan. It is recognized that we are all flawed, that we are different. Even the king himself accepts this. There is no Gaol ordained position. Only Gaol ordained luck.”
	[i]Gaol ordained luck....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“...Is is true that people will sometimes mouth off to the king himself? I've always heard kings were infamous for taking off people's heads, and that the soft ones always had to deal with revolution.”
	“Not true at all. Leng Shou can demand both respect and honesty from his children, and the people of Pianduan recognize this. They love him for it. They love him because he is like them.”
	Gregory put a hand on his chin. “I... see.”
	“So do you still believe us to be more interesting than the fox kin?” She asked with a teasing tone.
	“I believe you to be far more interesting than I thought before. I've heard so little about the north.”
	She laughed. “I suppose that is to be expected. The Fen never finds his own tail as fascinating as the tail next to him. Though I insist that while we may be stranger, the foxes are more interesting.”
	Gregory cocked an eyebrow at this. “But... aren't they kind of the same thing? Strange and interesting?”
	“Are they? Must everything strange be interesting?”
	“I... suppose not. But don't they normally come together? What commonplace things are interesting?”
	Alexandra shifted her legs over until her whole body was facing Gregory. His eyes went down toward them. Her tan legs were parted an inch, and her crimson red alchemist robe was pulled up to her mid-thigh. “I don't know. What commonplace things are interesting, Gregory the fox?”
	He swallowed and forced himself to meet her gaze. [i]Alexandra the viper.... [/i]
[i]	[/i]“I only argue that my people are strange, yes, but not very interesting. When strangeness grows around other strangeness, it all tends to meld together. So while all the northern vipers of the Eastern continent are strange, they are strange together—uniformly. The thing that makes them so weird and unique to the rest of the world all comes from the same place. They 'respect the jester' and that is the true origin of the northern quirk. It is a tree that grows strange fruits, each one unique and strange in its own away, but you can only see so many strange fruits before the idea of strange fruits becomes commonplace.”
	“So you're saying they all developed this trait... strangeness, but they did it together, all at the same time, so... it made them uninteresting. But still strange?”
	“Yes. They all speak uniquely, and they're strange because they 'respect the jester' in a world that doesn't normally, but that uniqueness is the same sort of uniqueness. They do not fear death, but that is because they do not fear, because they do not care, and that not caring underlies everything that they do.” She shrugged. “It is rather dull when you get to the core of it all.”
	“Then... maybe they're not interesting. But if all that's true, they're not strange, either.”
	Her eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
	“That thing that you call 'strange' is just... them. It's who they are. It's that unifying element that makes them... them. Instead of just individuals.  It [i]is [/i]them. Strangeness would be someone who in someway was not the same thing they are.”
	Her smile widened. “Mmm, are all cute foxes as surprising as you are?”
	“Uh-...” Gregory froze. “Um, I d-don't-”
	She laughed again. “You are adorable.” She scooted forward a bit on her rock, making her dress rise even further. The light was beginning to illuminate her dark hair, and Gregory did everything he could to make himself look away. “Let me ask you something, Gregory the fox. Are we the same?”
	“Huh?” Gregory's ear flicked with confusion. “Are... we the same?”
	“Yes. You said that my people are all the same, didn't you? You said that... 'unifying factor,' was it? You said it made them what they are, and you said those to whom it does not apply to its fullest degree were not the same, that they were not the fullest degree of the conception 'one with my people?' So I'm asking you, Gregory: are we the same? Does this unifying factor called 'The Alchemists of the Moth' make us the same? Or if that is not enough; the central tenets or even the particular elements common to our members—are they also 'common to our ilk?' So to speak? Can we not be strange to each other?”
	“Um, w-well, I... I suppose... no. No, we're not.”
	She raised her eyebrows in a look of amusement.
	“O-Oh, it's because, um, I'm not really an Alchemist yet. I don't even really know what the Alchemists are [i]about[/i] yet.... I mean, I-I do, but, you know... the details.... I need more time. And I haven't gotten my mark yet.”
	She cocked her head a bit and got to her feet. “And if you did have your mark? If you knew all the dirty secrets of our little organization....” She approached him. “If you knew everything about us; if you knew everything about Phreqs....” She stopped a couple steps in front of him. “Would you be one of us? Would we be the same?”
	Gregory could see her pale yellow flesh glistening in the faint light penetrating the mist. The crimson robes had tumbled down and covered her legs, but now that she was standing, he was aware of her chest and her hips, and he could see her face better, with a more penetrating focus and detail.
	[i]Goal, she's... she's really....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“I... guess so.” He said, a couple notches quieter than before. “I-I would be an Alchemist then. So, yes, that would define me. I would be an Alchemist of the Moth. And you would too. We'd... be the same, i-in a way.”
	Without a word, she reached up and slipped one shoulder out of her robe and then the other. Gregory watched her chest, his cheeks burning hotter by the second.
	[i]What...?[/i]
[i]	[/i]The robe came down calmly but swiftly, until her chest was exposed and her breasts were dangling in front of him, utterly exposed.
	[i]She's... showing me her....[/i] That was as far as his line of thoughts got before he noticed the faint glowing purple on her chest. It was not an elaborate symbol, nor was it a simple one. It was a circle superimposed over a square, simple symbols on the outside following the diameter in equal distribution, as well as at the edges of the square.
	“This is my marking, Gregory. We all get one, as you already know. But what you may not have known is that every marking is different. Every marking is invoked by a Master, but is created within us, in our image. It is unique, based on our souls, on our bodies, on our proclivities in life and in Magick. And nobody can can read them other than a Grandmaster. Not the Alchemist who wears it, not the Alchemist who conjured it, and not any other Master who has not yet mastered the Highest Art of Alchemy.” She lifted her robe and covered herself.
	Gregory's eyes rose. He'd only just then realized he'd been staring the entire time.
	“If there was ever any doubt in your heart that we are individuals here, let this marking be the proof. It is the irrefutable, indisputable confirmation from Gaol and from the lesser deities and from the active agents of Alchemy that we are unique. Unique, even though we are one. Strange as individuals, even when we as a group become commonplace. Now, tell me something, Gregory the fox.... How many markings did you see on the circle?”
	His eyes widened with shock. “Wh-What?”
	She smiled again. “How many markings did you see around my circle. It is a simple question.”
	His cheeks burned even hotter. “Um...” He whispered, his voice fading a moment later.
	She burst out laughing again, this the loudest outburst yet. “This world contains a lot of beauty, Gregory. It contains magnificent things that are beyond description, fragrances that have the power to invoke memories, and even memories that have the power to invoke aromas; but don't allow yourself to be blinded by the light. Don't let yourself be perpetually distracted by the cacophony, all of which will clamber endlessly for your attention. Don't look to the left or to the right...” She paused, looked down at her chest, and then looked back up at him smiling mischievously. “You have to look straight ahead, and you have to see through whatever lies in your path. That's what it means to be an Alchemist of the Moth.”
[i]	[/i] He stood there, speechless, trying to not look too much like an idiot.
	She walked forward until she was next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and spoke lowly into his ear:
	“And remember, these markings are only proof. They're not the only things that make us unique. The Alchemists of the Moth group does not define us, but we define it. And to say otherwise....” She chuckled. “Well, that is to say that everything in this world is just what a young, lonely girl goes out to the woods alone to do.”
	Alexandra moved past him without another word, and disappeared into the woods.
	[i]A young... lonely girl?[/i]
[i]	[/i]He swallowed and then took a long, shaky breath.
	[i]Alexandra.... Alexandra the Viper.[/i]

Chapter Seven

	“Come o---n,” Joseph drawled. “I promise; it isn't that hard, yeah?”
	“It is extremely [i]that [/i]hard!” I called back, narrowly avoiding an overgrown root sticking out of the ground. “I can barely walk all the way to the spot without a nap. You except me to do a backflip off a tree?”
	“You don't need to be able to walk a long time to do a backflip--though we should probably work on that!—but it's not super important, yeah? At least not for the flip! A flip is totally different. Totally, totally different!”
	“...You're missing the point.”
	“I'm not interested in points, yeah? I'm interested in [i]flips![/i]”
	I sighed. “You remember what happened last time?”
	“Yes, you slipped on the tree and scraped your leg.”
	“Yes, and it still [i]hurts. [/i]I'm not trying to run at the [i]same [/i]tree and do the [i]same [/i]thing and hurt myself [i]again.”[/i]	
	“So you'll try it on a different tree, yeah?”
	I sighed and walked on, the brush clearing out into faint spots of sunlit grass. Were walking back to West-End from 'the spot,' and we were almost there.
	“Is that a yes?”
	“No!” I shot back in exasperation. “Look, we'll... talk about it later. We're almost back.”
	“Yeah, yeah.”
	I shook my head.
	We emerged from the woods not long after and began trekking around the side of West-End through the unkempt field. We rounded the corner of the building, where it cleared out into weeds and dandelions.
	“Oh. Well, would you look who it is?”
	I gasped, immediately recognizing the small band of boys leaned up against the side wall.
	The red-haired boy next to the speaker chuckled softly and took a drag from his pipe.
	Joseph stopped, and I stopped along with him. I looked up at his face and found a strange expression. It seemed deliberately blanked, but I could tell it'd been just as surprised as mine a moment ago. He continued walking, looking straight ahead as if Blon didn't exist.
	“I don't think he heard you,” The red-haired boy, Ant, spoke with an alarmingly deep voice. --No, maybe not deep, but with something reminiscent of sternness, definitely not fit for someone so young.
	“[i]Look. [/i]Who it is.”
	Joseph turned to face him, still walking away. Blon chuckled.
	“Hey, I'm trying to talk to you, Fen.”
	I jolted a bit. Fen was the name of our race. The usage was technically correct on Blon's part, but that did little to make up for the condemning way he said it. Joseph stopped walking, but kept his eyes forward.
	“That's better. I know you're a Fen and all, but that's really no excuse for bad manners.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you could use some schoolin'.”
	Ant laughed out loud, far louder than I'd ever heard him laugh before.
	“Think that's funny, do ya? Well you're gonna love this. Kitty cat, I've got a real surprise for you. See, I'm in a good mood right now, so I'm gonna give ya a free lesson—that's right, totally free.”
	Ant shook his head, a pleased yet strangely complex smile on his face. He toked his pipe again. Blon approached us.
	“He doesn't need a lesson. His manners are fine.” I wanted to append a 'better than yours' at the end, but my courage failed me at the last instant.
	Joseph's head snapped in my direction, his eyes wide.
	Blon stopped moving.
	“Oh, is that so? So the little runt has got a voice after all?”
	From the corner of my eye, I noticed Ant's head turn to face me. I had little energy to devote to the evaluation of his expression, but the anger I'd expected to find was not there, and in it's stead I found amused curiosity.
	“You shoulda just stayed quiet.”
	“Shut up, Lucky,” Blon fired back. My eyes shot over to him, surprised to find him standing there. Somehow, I'd forgotten he was there at all.
	“Listen,” Blon continued, walking towards me again. “It looks like I'm gonna have to start with you cause you don't even have the decency to stay quiet when nobody is talking to you. --Hey, that's a first lesson: shut up.” He stopped a few inches from me, a few inches too close.
	Joseph turned back to look at us, his eyes wide, an energy in his expression I'd never seen before.
	“Okay, now for lesson two. When you're talkin' to your elders, you don't talk back. You got that? You remember your first day here, right? Yeah, [i]yeah, [/i]you remember that. That's what I like about little kids; they got these faces that answer everything for them, even the shit they don't wanna say.”
	Joseph's hands clenched into fists. I noticed Ant's and Lucky's gazes shift over to him.
	“So if you don't want that to happen again, or, y'know, worse shit than that—and I'll tell you right now I'm capable of some [i]shit—[/i]then you better listen closely to lesson two. I don't like people talkin' back to me or talkin' bad to me. You got that?”
	Ant half-coughed, half-laughed.
	I stood completely still and did my best to conceal my trembling. I desperately wanted to come back with some clever quip, or, if not clever, something rebellious, disrespectful, anything to show him that I didn't care what he said, but even with Joseph by my side, the words didn't come. My mind was devoid of any thoughts other than 'please stop,' and 'I wish this were over.'
	“I said you got that, you twerpy little Fen runt?” He reached out and flicked me on the nose.
	I pulled back and gasped, grabbing my nose in pain. Tears filled my eyes.
	“Hey, stop messing with him.” Joseph's face seemed marginally more serious than his soft, pleading voice.
	Blon snorted. “Just because you're technically older than me doesn't mean lesson two doesn't apply to you too, pussy. Or was there something else you wanted to say to me?” Blon approached, stepping even closer to him than he had to me.
	Joseph's eyes locked with his, but quickly darted away. They went back up to meet Blon's, but darted away again, and did not return a third time.
	“That's what I thought.... Lesson three: learn your place.” Blon tapped Joseph's cheek. Joseph recoiled, but kept his place.
	Ant chuckled and brought the pipe to his mouth once again. “What's lesson four?” He spoke gratingly slow.
	“Lesson four...” Blon looked at the ground for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Lesson four.... Lesson four, alright. Lesson four is the one about punishment. Cause Gor' knows I can't be lettin' my kids run [i]amock.”[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Can't have that.” Ant said. “How're you gonna punish 'im?”
	“You know... I've had this thing I've been wanting to try out for awhile. It's a simple little exercise. Make sure everybody knows their place and have them pay their respects to me at the same time. But, you know...” Blon looked Joseph dead in the eye and squinted. “I'm only saying this cause it was a free lesson. If you were willing to compensate for it, maybe I could save lesson four for later.”
	“Ha,” Ant laughed. “You know Joseph's never got a tak to his name.”
	“Hmf. Yeah. True,” Blon looked disappointed. “I know. I knew from the start, too. I guess I just wanted to hear him say it. --Make us all hear how worthless he is, in every, single, way.” He chortled.
	I looked up at Joseph and found his eyes still downcast, his aspect just as troubled as earlier. No remarkable changes had come about his expression, but something formless gave the impression that whatever his emotions were, they were intensifying.
	“Okay. “ Blon looked up at Joseph, his face equal parts mockery and amusement. “Get on the ground and kiss my feet.”
	Joseph jolted, making Blon's face brighten.
	“Yep. On the ground. And I'm keeping my shoes on.”
	Joseph squinted in a way that made it seem as though his eyes hurt. He looked at Blon, the first time he'd managed to hold eye contact with him, and then he looked down at Blon's feet.
	“Wh-What?” Joseph's voice came out almost as a whisper.
	“[i]Kiss my feet.[/i]” Blon frowned. “Or are you dumb [i]and [/i]deaf?”
	Joseph's eyes darted around aimlessly, and then they shifted toward me. He stared for several seconds, expression now stricken with terror and confusion.
	“I can hurt you real bad, Joseph.” Blon said softly. Almost sympathetically.
	The tone turned my stomach.
	“Better do it. He looks serious.” Ant chimed in from behind, amused.
	Joseph looked Blon up and down a few times. His eyes glistened and the stiff-browed expression he'd maintained for so long started to give way to a sadder, softer look.
	His gaze stayed on the ground, and his hands began trembling.
	“[i]Well?” [/i]Blon said again. “I don't have all day. Some of us actually have things to do, you know? Lesson five: learn to be a little more considerate.
	Ant snorted.
	Joseph took a step back and then kneeled down. He paused on his knees for a minute, his eyes still on Blon's feet. His eyes had turned bloodshot and the expression on his face seemed so absent and sorrowful I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd vomited right then.
	“Gol!” Ant laughed out loud. “He's gonna do it!”
	I turned to face Ant in disgust, but he ignored me. Lucky watched the entire thing with curiosity, like an impartial bystander enjoying a good show. Our eyes met, but he quickly looked away.
	When I looked back, Joseph's hands were on the dirt and his back was parallel to the ground, like he was bowing. His head moved toward Blon's shoes. He hesitated for a moment, and then went forward.
	Ant burst out laughing, in a grating, obnoxious way. Blon laughed in a more refined way, but it was still mocking and twisted.
	Joseph sat up, still on his knees, his eyes aimed at the dirt--the thing he undoubtedly identified with more than anything else in the world. They glistened so intensely I expected tears to run down his cheeks at any moment, but they never went beyond the edge of his eye lids.
	Blon, Ant, and Lucky wondered off, the two former in front, laughing and muttering about how he was about to cry, and the third following behind, throwing frequent glances in our direction.
	I walked over to Joseph and kneeled down. He kept his eyes on the dirt and remained completely still. I lingered next to him in silence.
	I knew upon meeting him that Joseph was not the most popular person at West-End. I knew he was a bit awkward and could sometimes talk too much or too quickly. I knew he liked to brag a lot, and even stretch the truth to make himself look better.
	I also knew that his shorts were tattered and dirty, just like the other kids. I knew his parents were gone and he was alone and afraid, just like the other kids. I knew his shoes were too small for his feet, and that he went to bed hungry almost every night, just like all the other kids.
	Seeing him almost crumpled up on the ground made me feel as if all the blood had been drained from my body. Like I'd been left a hollow, throbbing husk. Despite all the things these starving kids had in common, the few things that made Joseph different from the rest of them—particularly those ears protruding from his head, the fur growing from his flesh, and the tail protruding from his backside—had been enough to justify his ostracization and subsequent condemnation, for reasons that never seemed clear to me.
	A moment after letting all of this wash over me, I was struck with a deep, spine-tingling sense of guilt.
	I felt terrified, and not just on Joseph's behalf.
	I'd thought Joseph approaching me had been a grand gift from Gaol himself. That this stronger soul, who had endured many harsh years, would take me under his wing and protect me from this strange, foreign world I'd been thrust into, so unlike the one I'd previously inhabited. And in my innocence, I'd been expecting a miracle, I'd been absolutely convinced one would come, because I couldn't conceptualize a world as hapless as the one into which I'd be thrust. I'd wanted a miracle denied the glory of being miraculous, because I'd [i]known [/i]it would come--whether it was meant to or not.
	And now it seemed almost painfully obvious that if anything, my friendship had been the miracle, that my presence had been a gift to him. There was little Joseph could 'protect' me from. The wisdom he contained, while far greater than my own, was severely limited, severely isolated, and severely twisted.
	He could not be my hero. The option was to survive [i]with [/i]him, instead of because of him.
	I put my hand on Joseph's back and thought back to the amazing things I'd seen him do. Like the time he'd done that back-flip off the tree. When he'd removed his shirt despite how much it terrified him to do. When he told me he'd taught himself to swim, and when he'd literally jumped backwards off a cliff and did a flip in the air.
	[i]I bet Blon doesn't have the skill to do a backflip off a tree. And I bet Ant doesn't have that kind of courage. And I doubt either of them could teach themselves anything as crazy as a flip off a cliff into the water in a taska. In 10, or even 100 taska![/i]
[i]	[/i]And then I thought about how he'd come over to me on the first day. How he'd talked me out of my sorrow like a wizard casting a spell. How he'd taken me to his secret spot to help me get cleaned up, so I could avoid the very fate he was suffering now.
	“I'm sorry.” The words came out meekly, more meekly than I wanted them to.
	He looked over at me, and then back down at the dirt.
	I wanted to tell him everything that was on my mind, but I struggled to find the right words to break the ice. Everything sounded wrong in my head.
	I felt a sudden rush of anger.
	Why were things like this? How could someone like Joseph be so ignored and hated? He was so special, and so unique, and so sweet. Yet nobody seemed to see it other than me.
	They all had dirty clothes, but Joseph's were the only one's with multiple shades of sweat stains.
	They all had to deal with loneliness, but who among them could match Joseph's optimism in the face of pure trauma?
	They all had little to work with, from clothes to shoes, but  Joseph was the only one who worked everyday to change that.
	Joseph was the only one who wanted a change, and for some reason, this meant nothing to anybody.
	They had no right to talk down to him. To make him bow or to make him cry. Who were they and what had they done to earn this right? How could this be allowed to go on? Why did they hate him so much? Why did they hate me?
	It wasn't fair.
	It just wasn't fair.
	Where were all the adults? Why had Daughtry done nothing to stop this from happening? Did he know...? I'd have to mention it to Joseph later, to see if he'd talked to him about it.
	Then there was the greater issue; the first rush of negative emotion I'd ever felt toward the divine. Why? If there was a supreme creator, an omnipotent being of pure mercy and justice, if Gaol truly was great—then why was there so much evil in the world? So much pain? Why were Blon and Ant not smited? Had I not waited long enough for the Justice of Gaol? Was this a test?
	No.
	This could not be a test. Not from the Supreme Creator. This was too harsh, too heinous, too sinister and sick. In one event, in one place and and in one time maybe this could be a test, but I knew this sort of thing went on in other places around the world. I'd read books with similar, and often more horrific scenarios that took place. I'd always thought it was done for the purpose of entertainment, that is a was a fiction, [i]that it did not apply to me. [/i]But now I knew this was something that went on in the world. This was how the world [i]worked.[/i]
	And if it was not a test--or, for that matter, even if it was—how could Gaol allow something so sickening to go on in his Domain? How could he [i]create [/i]it?
	This idea scared me. It made me feel as if I'd questioned Gaol, and I'd heard he is never to be questioned. I'd felt as if I'd doubted him, and that, I was sure, was far worse a crime. So those words fell away from me for the time being; but one word remained all the while, it's subtext hidden deep inside, in the form of a small, concealed sting inside my chest, left in a place I wouldn't stumble upon it accidentally, a place I could conceal and carry it for as long as I desired.
	
	That word was why.

Chapter Eight

	Being alone at West-End felt strange.
	Well, just about everything about West-End still felt strange, but I'd spent nearly ever moment with Joseph since we'd become acquainted. We spent the days together, we spent the nights together, we ate together, we even peed together half the time. Sleep had been the only thing in the last several days which had separated us for longer than a few minutes.
	Lying here now, clutching a pillow and staring out into the suddenly stormy weather felt dissonant, as if the incident with Blon had happened a lifetime ago, even though it'd only been a couple hours. There was a certain congruence with my misery and the rainy tumult outside.
	The sky swirled with a concoction of blue, purple, and black, and every few minutes it lit up as lightning ripped across the murky veneer of rushing clouds. I sighed and flipped over, staring at the multi-colored ceiling—some parts of it gray and dusty, other bits a soggy shade of yellow. Water saturated the yellow spots, dripping into the buckets all around the Bunker.
	A familiar weight plopped down on its usual spot at the side of my bed. I looked toward my feet and found Joseph staring down toward the floor, his dimples low and sullen, and his eyes tired. I looked at his legs and then at his hands, and then at his entire body, examining him with surprise. Several seconds passed, but he did not move. He was actually [i]still [/i]for once.
	“Hi.” I sat up.
	“Hey.”
	We sat silently for a few moments. His hands started to move a bit, the usual writhing and wringing, but the way he turned his head away from me made me wonder if there was something on his mind.
	“So, um,” I began. “Are you... okay? I just, um... after everything that happ-”
	“-Yes.” He interrupted. “I am fine.”
	“Oh.”
	We lapsed into silence once again.
	“Really,” he reassured me several moments later, though still not turning to look at me. “I'm...used to it, yeah?” The words had an honest tone to them, yet they sounded as if they'd taken considerable effort to utter.
	“Oh. Okay. That's... good-”
	“-Are you?” He turned to face me. I hadn't had a very good look at his face before, but I could tell his eyes were a bit wider now.
	“Yeah. I'm okay. I think. I just hope you are; you had it worse than I did.”
	“Don't worry about me.” He paused a moment, and then chuckled. “Really, you don't have to worry about me, yeah? I'm the last person on earth you should worry about, yeah? You need to worry about yourself—that's who I'm worried about.”
	I couldn't help but smile a bit; however, I quickly smothered it. “It's just... how long has this been-”
	“Yo.”
	The only thing more troubling than the familiarity behind that tone of voice was the speed in which Joseph's head snapped in it's direction. We both stared at the speaker, visibly riddled with tension and emotion.
	“What's goin' on, guys?” The casual tone was almost too much to stand.
	“What do you want, Lucky?” Joseph asked his question with considerable strain and nearly as a whisper. He was leaned forward a bit, his hands clutching my blanket. His eyes were wide, alert, and strangely melancholic. I'd only known Joseph for a few days, but I knew this manner was unusual for him. If Lucky spoke too boldly, I wasn't sure how Joseph would react, but I doubted a pleasant outcome.
	“I actually came to speak to the little one over here. Uh, Leon—itus, right?” He said drawling out my name (as if he could ever forget it after Blon's jokes.)
	“Y-Yes.”
	“I was just comin' over to see if you wanted to eat dinner together. I wanted to talk to you about somethin'.”
	My eyes widened. “E-Eat dinner together?” I looked over at Joseph and found him still staring at Lucky, his eyes now squinted and his eyebrows terse.
	“Yeah,” Lucky locked his fingers behind his head. “It's nothing too serious. Just wanted to talk a bit.”
	“Oh.” I looked down at my bedspread and pondered the question for a few moments. Joseph looked over at me and I looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was hard to read, but I had the feeling it was somewhere between 'don't do it' and 'you can't possibly be considering this.'
	“Um, just me and you, right? Nobody... uh, nobody else?”
	“No. Just me and you. No Blon or Ant or Buddy or anybody.”
	At this point, Joseph's expression was clearly 'you can't be considering this,' but there was still plenty of 'don't do it' hidden beneath his initial level of shock.
	“U-Um, okay, but... can Joseph come?”
	Lucky looked taken aback for a moment. He shot an appraising glance at Joseph, and then contorted his lips a bit in a subtle show of discomfort. “I, uh... I guess s-”
	“No.” Joseph suddenly began. “I'll... pass.” He got to his feet. “Thanks for the offer, though, yeah?”
	He walked off without another word, not giving me any chance to either speak or think about what had just happened.
	“His loss, right?” Lucky added.
	I frowned and watched Joseph as he walked way. He appeared entirely calm on the outside, even calmer than he had earlier.
	“So you ready? I'm pretty hungry myself.”
	I looked up at Lucky and then back at Joseph again. “Um, I... I guess so.” I reluctantly got to my feet, throwing frequent glances back at my friend.
	He laid down on his bed, crawled under his covers, and turned away from me, making what appeared to be a deliberate effort not to meet my eyes.
	I balled my hands into fists and bit down on my lip as Lucky tried to lead me away.
	“U-Um,” I stammered. “M-Maybe I-I should-”
	“Hey,” Lucky cut me off. “It's better this way. Trust me. Now come on.”
	I threw one more longing glance at Joseph, thinking about how I'd accepted this offer with the assumption in mind that he'd have joined us.
	Turning to face Lucky one last time, I followed him out the room, to where I either awaited my doom, or something far less dramatic.
	He led the way to the cafeteria. We got our food and sat down at a small table, alone, the now gentle pitter-patter of rain audible through the open windows.
	“So, Leon...idus!” Lucky looked triumphant at having remembered my name. “Tell me about yourself.”
	My fork came to a stop in my sweet potatoes. “I... um....” I looked down awkwardly at the sweet mash, and then up at Lucky.
	He laughed. “How about.... What kinda stuff are you interested in? Your hobbies and your likes and stuff like that? Who is Leon-idus?”
	“I-It's Leonidus.... And, stuff? I'm... I'm not really sure. I've never r-really had a lot of things. I guess I read a lot.... How come you wanna know?”
	He snorted. “Don't act so paranoid. It's nothing serious or anything like that—you're not in any danger. I'm here separately from Blon and Ant, and like you might've noticed, they aint even here right now so you're safe. I aint gonna tell'em a thing I heard here either. So you're safe. Totally safe.”
	“Safe....” I spoke the word softly to my sweet potatoes. “So you just wanna hear my hobbies?”
	“Uh, yeah, I guess so, for now. I wanna talk about some other stuff, too, but let's start it off light. I just wanna get to know you a bit. Maybe be friends or somethin'.”
	“You wanna be... friends?” My eyebrows furled for a moment, but I quickly relaxed them, not wanting to offend. “But you made fun of me and Joseph....”
	The side of Lucky's face twitched, but he quickly fixed his expression to the same somewhat dumbfounded look he normally wore. “I deserve that,” he laughed. “Look, I can't control Blon an' Ant. They do whatever they wanna do and that's [i]that.” [/i]He leaned in. “You saw 'em. They don't respect anybody, least of all me. You'd think they'd listen if I told'em to stop? They didn't even listen to Buddy, and they respec' him. But it's just how they are—especially Blon. And hey,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Don't you go tellin' him I said that. That's a bag of flies I don't ever wanna open.”
	I watched Lucky make his brief monologue with some surprise. “So... you didn't have a choice?”
	“Ha,” Lucky exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table. “I coulda walked away. I won't lie to ya there. I didn't [i]have [/i]to stay there; but you see—that's exactly why I had to stay there. You see?”
	I cocked an eyebrow at him and took a bite of my sweet potatoes.
	“Listen, listen--you're young. I get it. That's probably why you don't get where I'm comin' from. But you gotta understand that [i]sometimes[/i] we gotta do stuff entirely because we aint supposed to be doin' it. See, it's an issue of money. The rich people out there can preach up a storm about what's right and about what's wrong, but at the end of the day, does it matter? It does, because they're protecting their own interests, but do those goods and those bads mean nothin'? At the end of the day, Leonidus, they got food and they got a home and they got families and they got [i]opportunity—[/i]and I challenge you to find me something better than opportunity. They got these things first and foremost, without the asterisk! They got themselves a [i]fireplace [/i]in the Mist and a comfy, humid seat to watch the kindle burn, right? But ya see, Leon-idus, er, Leo[i]ni[/i]dus, people like us,” he put a thoughtful hand on his chest and his eyes gleamed. “We gotta stick together. And sometimes we gotta do the wrong thing to get to the right place, or sometimes to get to the wrong place--but at least we got somewhere. At least we had a [i]chance, [/i]right? That's how it works for us in the underworld. That's how it all works, Leon-idus.” He cleared his throat. “Leonidus.”
	“Um, I'm... confused. I'm sorry I don't think I understand.”
	“Okay, okay, okay, listen.” He said with food in his mouth. “If I'd have walked away when Blon was pickin' on ya, how would I have looked? I wouldn't have looked good at all, not one bit. Woulda looked like a regular square, and nobody likes squares—pointy, jabby things that can't even slip through a hallway, and that's doubly true if you have one of those [i]wide [/i]squares or one that's all messed up. --Oh, and we orphans are messed up from the head to the soul no matter shapes!-- So if I'd have walked away, Blon would've gotten on me next. And it aint that I'm afraid—per se. I'm not afraid of Blon or Ant or any of them, but... I am afraid of what it means to lose the only people who can supply this place.”
	I squinted suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
	“I mean that Blon and Ant bring stuff here. They've power and they've supplies, because they're thieves and the only ones with any real money in this old hole. They don't run the place, per se, but when you're the only person doing stuff, in a time when people need stuff more than anything else, one can deduce.”
	“De-duce?”
	“Yes, Leon-idus, deduce. And I have deduced that they are valuable people to have around. And the exact opposite to have away. Do you know what I'm saying now?”
	“Um... I think so.”
	“Good.”
	“You can call me Leo, by the way. It's a lot easier.”
	Lucky smiled. “That's what I like to hear!” He took a celebratory bite of his food, and I joined him with a bite of my own. I still felt confused at what had happened, but I did feel a bit more comfortable.
	“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I asked.
	“It is and it isn't,” he answered. “I did want to talk about that, but I aint quite finished. You see, you little thing, that I think it would be beneficial for us to be pals. Not quite friends—though I am by no means saying we can't be friends at some point here in time—but that is to say we might be of some 'beneficiality' to each other if held in each other's most highest esteems.”
	“What?”
	“I mean that we should be pals. Acquaint-tee-ances, if you will.”
	“Ac-quint-ten-sens?”
	“And all the rest.
	“Hmm,” I looked down at my potatoes and brainstormed a reason to say no, but nothing came to me. “I... suppose. What does it mean if we're ac-acqua-... pals, though?”
	“Ah!” His eyes widened for a moment. “You ask good questions for such a young thing. The reality of the situation is that I don't gain much if we're talkin' about food and all the rest; nothing more than the good feelin' in my heart for havin' done somethin' good and holy. But you gain a lot, because I've pals that aren't just Blon and Ant and the rest of the rabble around here, but I know some people in town who have more than we've all combined! The sort who I can call to take care of Blon and Ant if it need be. There's another little bit of information you'd do best to think about.”
	“...Town?” I murmured.
	“Yes! That's why I get around as well I do. Though, from here, it's almost impossible to get out. If you ever get a chance, become acquint-tee-enced to Scott. He'd prolly be willing to tell ya a fair bit about things—he loves to talk, and he's been friendly to Joseph before, and if he's been friendly to that....” We made eye contact, and Lucky stopped in his tracks. “Baaah! It doesn't matter what he is. Talk to Scott if you get a chance you'll like 'im.”
	“...Scott, huh?”
	“Yep. You'll almost always find 'im with a book in his hand on his bed. And if not he is out for a smoke or consorting with the rabble or out to get more books. Wouldn't you know it is Blon who has gotten the books he has now? I guess that's just proof of how important connections can be!”
	“I guess so....”
	“It is de-fit-netly so, Leo.”
	It was around this point that I finished my dinner. I glanced over at Lucky's plate and noticed with some surprise he'd finished before I did, despite having been talking the entire time.
	“It's about time for me to let you go.” Lucky got to his feet. “But I will stay in touch. And I'll make sure to put in a good word for ya with the rest of the rabble.”
	“O-Oh, yeah. Um, I enjoyed the talk. And thanks.”
	“I did too. I think we can make some fast friends, and if not, we can be some ac-quint-tee-en-senses.”
	With these words, Lucky headed out of the cafeteria, presumably to find his next ear in which to make long, mostly unintelligible colloquial monologues.
	I headed back to the Bunker, the long chains of information Lucky had fed me spinning around in my head. I wondered how I would explain it all to Joseph, but soon that turned into a question of whether or not Joseph would want to hear it at all.
	[i]He seemed pretty mad. [/i]I thought. [i]Or maybe it wasn't mad, maybe it was... sad? Annoyed? Or maybe I'm just overthinking it and he was completely fine...?[/i]
[i]	[/i]That last option seemed the least likely one. Joseph had clearly moved and acted with some idea in mind.
	When I entered the room, I found Joseph still in his bed, but now he was sitting up, staring down at his lap in the blank, empty, and very depressing way he always did when he was trying to pass the time. I only made it a few steps in before he looked up and met my eyes. He left his bed and started to head towards mine, to meet me there.
	I sat down and he took a seat next to me, his eyes scanning me in a way only his eyes could.
	“So?” He said, no traces of hostility or offense in his voice, much to my relief.
	“Um, it went okay.” I twiddled my fingers, unsure of why I suddenly had no idea what to say. “He, uh, he isn't as bad as I thought.... He isn't anything like I thought, honestly.”
	“Yeah?”
	“Uh huh. But, um, before I go into that.... A-Are you mad? You seemed mad before.”
	“I seemed mad?” His leg began to rapidly tick up and down, shaking my entire bed lightly.
	“Yeah. Cause you... just kinda walked off and you did it really quickly and didn't say anything and it didn't seem like... something you'd normally do.... Are you still mad?”
	“Am I mad now? Oh, yes, I'm furious, yeah?”
	“Y-You are?” I asked, with more than a little alarm.
	“Steaming. Never been so angry in my life, yeah? Now tell me what happened.”
	“U-um... are you messing with me?”
	“Yeah, totally. Now what did he say, yeah? Stop leaving me in suspense before I [i]do [/i]get mad.”
	I smiled and looked down at my twiddling fingers.
	“If I acted weird,” he suddenly went on. “It was only because I was worried and didn't want you to say yes. I don't trust Lucky, yeah?”
	“You don't?” I felt stupid immediately after asking the question.
	 He frowned. “No. Not even a little. He hangs out with Blon and Ant and you haven't seen it, but I know how he can be. He [i]sucks.[/i]”
	“How he can be...? Is there stuff I don't know?”
	“He can be a real bastard. And a real shifty one too, yeah? Shifty shifty. That's the best way to describe 'im. --Anyway, enough about that, [i]tell me what he said[/i].”
	“O-Oh. It's... uh, it was really weird. He said he wants to be friends, or ac-acqua-... he said he wants to be pals and stuff. And he told me I could benefit a lot from it, and he said he'd only get a good feeling in his heart. He said it would be warm and holy. And he told me something about rich people and how they have food and opportunity and something about sitting in front of fireplaces in the Mist and kindle.... He also said that he knows people in this place called Town, and that he doesn't do mean things because he wants to, but because he has to, and has to because he doesn't have to, and, and...um. I guess that's the... gist of it.”
	“Wow,” Joseph remarked, with a thoughtful touch to his chin. “That sounds just like him, yeah?”
	“R-Really?” I laughed. “I thought I sounded like a crazy person trying to say all that.”
	“You did. And that's why it sounded like Lucky, yeah?”
	We laughed.
	“All that stuff about the Mist and fireplace, though,” Joseph went on, “that's all stuff Scott says.”
	“Yeah! Lucky told me I should talk to Scott if I get a chance. He said he's really smart and that he reads a lot of books.”
	“I think that's a good idea. Never thought I'd agree with Lucky on somethin' but Scott [i]is [/i]really smart and I'll introduce you sometime, yeah? He is one my fe-”Joseph stopped suddenly, panic passing over his face so quickly I almost missed it, and then confusion passing over in the same manner. Within a second, his face was back to the way it had been a moment ago. “He is one of my friends here, yeah? You'd like him a lot, and I think he'd like you. He is really nice.”
	“I think I'd like to meet him then.”
	“Uh huh.” Joseph nodded. “So did he say anything else?”
	“Um, there was... one other thing he mentioned. I didn't really ask him about it, but.... He said he has friends in town, and that if he had to, he could... take care of Blon and Ant?”
	Joseph cocked an eyebrow. “Whatta ya mean?”
	“I guess he meant it as kind of a threat? Not like a threat to me, but he said it like that. He said he isn't afraid of them too. That his friends in town are a lot-”
	“-Ha ha ha ha!” Joseph grabbed at his stomach, and a few people looked over at the sudden noise. He laughed for a few moments and then settled down. “Oh, wow.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “I needed that, yeah?”
	“Why are you laughing...?”
	“Because Lucky is [i]terrified [/i]of them, and [i]everyone[/i] knows it. Most of all Blon and Ant, yeah? They've been treating him like garbage for as long as I can remember. If he had some big bad friends in town he'd have 'taken care of them' a while ago, yeah? He's just a big idiot, yeah? This isn't even the first time he's mentioned his [i]friends [/i]in town. If they even exist, they probably treat him like crap too.”
	“Hmm,” I turned back toward my fingers.
	[i]That makes a lot of sense. [/i]I thought. [i]But the real question is why Lucky felt the need to tell me that lie in the first place. And on top of that, why he felt a need to convince me that he had power here. Why did he care about me at all? Why did it matter to him if I of all people respected him or was his acquaintance? What did he have to gain from that?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I looked toward the opposite side of the Bunker, where Blon, Ant, and Buddy resided, and close to where Lucky resided. The only one there was Buddy; he was chatting it up with some other kids I didn't know.
	[i]Then again, [/i]I thought, [i]maybe it isn't that complicated at all. Maybe Lucky is just lonely....[/i]

Chapter Nine

	[i]So many years spent trying to reconcile. So many years spent trying to rationalize. And now, with no more years to give up, I could only look on my returns with a degree of ironical amusement. The very thing which had imprisoned me had, all along, been the driving force behind my attempted escapes. The very rope which had held me above the bottomless pit had been the same rope which had chocked me to sleep so long ago. And now, with my coffin opened for the first time, I could only look upon my impending slumber with mist in my eyes, and that same degree of ironic amusement, knowing full well that'd I'd be back—if, indeed, I ever left at all.[/i]
[i]	[/i]
	I closed my book with a satisfying thud and closed my eyes. A long sigh slipped from my lips; the same sigh I always exhaled when I finished a novel.
	“Finish it?”
	Joseph's voice snapped me out of my reverie. I looked over and found him standing in the small area positioned in the center of his secret spot, where he'd moved all the leaves out of the way, either by deliberate effort or simply by result of his exercises.
	“Uh huh. Can we go to the library later?”
	“We can go to the library now, yeah? I'm done here. Feel like I'm gonna pass out.”
	I sat up and stretched.
	“Stop yawning.” Joseph called out. “It always... makes.... me yawn.”
	“Heh.” I saddled my way down the thick, twisted branches that I'd turned into a makeshift reading spot. This was the only tree I'd ever climbed before, and the moment I'd made it up my first time, Joseph, with an exuberant and prideful smile, had decreed it my very own tree. My very own spot in his secret area.
	I knew it was just a tree and there was little importance to the designation, but that didn't stop me from beaming back at him and sitting in it every time we came out here. Even if the hardwood was somewhat uncomfortable on my butt.
	I paused moments before sliding down to the ground. The hardest part was always the first and the last jump, from tree to forest floor and the reverse. After an unsteady landing and a couple moments to adjust myself to the new surface, I followed Joseph down the usual path leading back to West-End.
	“I dunno how you can stand this walk after working out so hard.”
	Joseph laughed. “Like I said, I don't even notice it anymore, yeah? You get used to it after awhile.”
	“I'm not used to it....”
	“Yes, and that's because you've only been walking it for a deta--and you're really out of shape.”
	 I frowned. “I'm not [i]that [/i]out of shape.”
	“You're pretty out of shape.” He reiterated this with a frustrating air of casualness, as if he were stating the obvious.
	I frowned harder. “Hey! I'm not that out of shape since hanging out with you...! I've made this walk [i]so [/i]many times since I came here.”
	“You've made it like twice.”
	“I've made it so many more times than twice! What are you even talking about?”
	He burst out laughing. “You're so sensitive. I was just kidding.” He paused for a moment, but continued before I could argue with him. “And yes, you're more in shape then you were then. Alright? But you've got a long way to go, yeah?”
	My frown turned sideways as I forced the pressure in my face into one of my dimples. He glanced back at me, and then smiled and shook his head. I found the gesture annoying, but decided not to follow up on it. I usually lost my verbal spars with Joseph, but he had a way of making even the victories unsatisfying.
	After a few moments of silent walking, I tentatively opened my mouth to speak. “Hey, Joseph?”
	“Hmm?” He grunted, his attention still on navigating the narrow trail.
	“Does the walk to town make you tired? Or are you used to it cause you've walked the trail so many times?”
	The resulting sigh was long-suffering. “Town again....”
	“Aww come on! I wasn't asking you to take me there or anything.”
	“But that's where it was going, yeah? And even if it wasn't, I know what you're trying to do. I was twelve once too, yeah? Though I didn't really have anyone to do that too....” He frowned, but I'd gained a good enough grasp over Joseph's expression to tell he was more disturbed by this than upset.
	“I don't know what you're even talking about. I'm not [i]doing [/i]anything....”
	“Yes. Yes, you are.” He insisted. “You mentioned town. And I get you think about it a lot, yeah? But you keep making it the [i]topic[/i] so you can [i]beg[/i] me, and I [i]always[/i] tell you the [i]same [/i]thing: I'm not taking you there, yeah?”
	“But [i]wh-y[/i]....” I whined.
	“I've already told you why, yeah?” His tail whipped around with annoyance.
	“Tell me again.”
	“Why should I tell you again? So you can argue with me?”
	“So I can [i]convince [/i]you. You don't have[i] [/i]to take me, but at least gimme a chance to try and change your mind.”
	“You have literally had so many chances, yeah? So many! Will there ever be a day you don't mention town to me? How many more chances do you need?”
	“As many as it takes to change your mind.”
	He shook his head and sighed again. “Sometimes you act like such a little kid....”
	“No I don't!”
	“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That's exactly what a little kid would say, yeah?”
	“Grr.” I frowned. “You're mean.”
	“That's what you think. If I was mean I'd take you to town right now, yeah?”
	“Then be mean.”
	He stopped walking and turned to face me with raised eyebrows. “I can be mean if you want. You really want me to?”
	“... If it gets me to town.” I replied meekly.
	“It won't get you to town... But it'll get you somewhere.” He approached me and I took tentative steps away from him.
	“[i]N-o...[/i]” I whined.
	“Isn't what you wanted?”
	“No! I just want to go to town.”
	“We're not going.” Joseph said with finality.
	“But Lucky said he had friends there, and that they were a lot better than the ones he has here....”
	“Ugh, Lucky this and Lucky that!” Joseph threw his arms in the air in frustration. “Listen, Lucky is an idiot and a loser and a terrible, idiot, monster! Any friends he has in town are just as [i]crap [/i]as the ones he has here, yeah?”
	“Well, I'm kind of his friend now.... Or his pal, I guess.”
	“So you've said, yeah? And if you were smart you'd [i]get away from him[/i].”
	I recoiled a bit. His expression softened.
	“Listen, I... I didn't mean it like that, yeah? I didn't mean to say you're not smart. You are very smart—the smartest twelve dro I've ever met. I just mean you should stay away from Lucky, yeah?”
	“I... I know you guys don't like each other, but I really think you should give him another chance.”
	“Give him another...” Joseph repeated in exasperation. “You want [i]me [/i]to give [i]him another.... [/i]Ugh!” He waved his hands at me and turned away. “Fine. You wanna be buddy buddy with Lucky do whatever you want, yeah? I don't care, yeah?! Just don't say I didn't warn you! Lucky is no better than those... those... bourgeoisie clowns in town.”
	I frowned and went silent.
	“If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Lucky and you'll stop thinking about town, yeah? I don't... I don't plan on keeping you away from it forever, yeah?” His tone suddenly became softer. “I just don't want to take you there too soon. You're still really young, yeah? And... it's not just that, but you're more than just young, yeah? There's something about you that's... [i]young. [/i]I can't explain it, but I can't be the one responsible for... taking that away from you.”
	[i]Why is he trying to sugar coat it? [/i]I thought with vehemence. [i]Why can't he just say it? He thinks I'm a [/i]baby[i] who can't handle town. Just a little kid who needs to be coddled and protected and guarded and lied to cause I'm only twelve dro. I might not be the bravest or the strongest, but I can at least handle walking through a market! It's not fair that he has this exaggerated idea of how bad everyone is. What does he think is going to happen? How bad could it possibly be?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I thought about it as we walked back in silence.
	Joseph had grown up in West-End surrounded almost entirely by people who despised him. He taught himself everything, supported himself through everything, and had survived against all odds. His belief that people were fundamentally bad was far from absurd, considering most of his life had been lived with just about everybody constantly reaffirming that exact notion.
	His idea of Lucky was reasonably negative, especially since Lucky had been part of the many villains in Joseph's life; however, the thought that a person like Lucky was irredeemable, or was as Joseph had said, a 'terrible, idiot, monster,' was a result of his cynicism.
	Joseph thought everyone in town was bad because he'd probably met a few bad people and because his social skills were so hopelessly underdeveloped. He wasn't to blame for that, and he'd gotten marginally better at basic communication in the deta we'd been together, almost as if he'd learned how to properly speak for the first time in his life through practicing with me, but he'd still been that way for a [i]long[/i] time, and still was to some extent. He'd likely said some awkward things to people, things he hadn't meant, offended people he wanted to like him, annoyed people who didn't know how to deal with him. When they reacted negatively, it fed his negative outlook, and left him further estranged from the world at large. He probably thought the world was filled with Blons... and that Lucky was just another Blon in different skin.
	His long list of negative life experiences had left him jaded, but thanks to him and Mrs. Shire and mom, I had been spared that fate.
	I knew there were good people out there. I knew people could be forgiven and that people could be redeemed. Even if his anger toward Lucky and his fear toward town were somewhat justified, that didn't mean he had to take things to extremes. It didn't mean it made sense to keep me cooped up my whole life, nor did it make sense to maintain that hate against Lucky, someone who was a victim of the same bullying as Joseph.
	If only Joseph understood that part of what pulled me toward Lucky was their similarity; that they shared a bond in their solitude.
	I couldn't just give up on Lucky. He needed a friend; a saving grace just like Joseph had been to me. He needed a Mrs. Shire to give him something to strive for. I didn't need to be his best friend, or have with him what I had with Joseph, but it would be evil to shun him now.
	Being there for both Joseph [i]and [/i]Lucky was what I needed to do. [i]That [/i]was the will of Gaol.
	By the time we'd arrived at West-End, the tension in the air had mostly dissolved. We remained silent, my thoughts had tapered off into wondering what kind of book I would get next—hopefully something less confusing than my last book—and I imagined Joseph's thoughts had moved to... whatever it was Joseph normally thought about.
	We entered the library and Joseph immediately took it upon himself to walk around while looking supremely bored. Every visit was the same: he would dawn the same expression and move his head in the same pattern, looking to every corner of the room like it were his first time there, yet doing it with a sluggishness that said the room was really not even worth his time to look at.
	After placing my book with the other returns—most of which had been placed there before my arrival at West-End--I walked to the back and perused my options, running my eyes along the spines, searching for anything eye-catching. After fiddling with a few unexciting books, after even placing a few of them in my “maybe pile” on top of the bookshelf, my eyes caught onto a dark red book, with no words on the spine, and upon further evaluation, no words on the cover or the back.
	I opened the hardcover and found a handwritten note scrawled on the first page:
	[i]“Starry-eyed moments, both heard and felt;[/i]
[i]		Presuming the divine, obscure answers dwelt.”[/i]
	I furled my eyebrows, wondering why someone had felt compelled to write something so cryptic in the mystery book, and in wonderment as to what it was supposed to mean. Was it joke? A warning that what was to come was complete gibberish?
	I flipped a couple of white pages out of the way to reveal the title of the book in large, black font: [i]Peaches.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“What the...-”
	“-Hey what'cha lookin' at?”
	“Ahh!” I jolted and slammed the book shut. “Oh Gaol... You scared me!”
	“I noticed.” Joseph gazed at me with an annoyingly innocent expression. “You didn't pee yourself again, yeah?”
	“No I did not pee myself!” I said with gritted teeth.
	“What'cha readin'?” He looked down at the book. “You looked really confused, yeah?”
	“Oh, i-it's just this... weird book I found. There isn't anything on the outside and it had this weird message written on the inside of it.”
	“Like handwritten?”
	“Yeah,” I opened the cover and showed him the message. He furled his eyebrows like I had and even squinted at it for a few moments, trying to decipher the words. It took him a few moments longer than it should have to read such a short passage, but I stayed quiet about it.
	“Um, I don't really get it.”
	“Yeah,” I responded. “Me either....”
	“What's the book about?”
	“I didn't get past the title. You know, before you scared the [i]tail off me.[/i]”
	“Hehe. What are you waiting for, yeah? For it to grow back? Open it up.”
	After smacking my own tail against the side of my leg to verify it had indeed remained attached to me, I opened the book and flipped past the title to the table of contents. It read as follows:
	[i]Chapter One: A Dissertation on Relativity, Value, Pattern Recognition, and the Importance Self-Deception[/i]
[i]	Chapter Two: Number Theory[/i]
[i]	Chapter Four: Discerning Reality Through Analogy[/i]
[i]	Chapter Five: Transcending Base Emotions[/i]
[i]	Chapter Six: The Art of Revelation[/i]
[i]	Chapter Seven: The Nature of Revolution[/i]
[i]	Chapter Eight: Supreme Epiphany[/i]
[i]	[/i]I stopped reading at “Supreme[i] Epiphany,' [/i] but as I went to flip the page I silently registered that the table went all the way to chapter twelve.
	The next page read '[i]Chapter One: THREE,' [/i]center-aligned, and in surprisingly small letters considering it was the only thing on the page. The next page was center-aligned as well, like a poem, and had a title of its own. All the text was the same size as the previous page's text had been. The poem read as follows:

	[i]Dance dirt, fire, and sky,[/i]
[i]	To the time starlight fades;[/i]
[i]	Heights held naught fall,[/i]
[i]	Experience begot that day.[/i]

[i]	Peaks fold to heart [/i]
[i]	Of a subtle shifting wind[/i]
[i]	Are as they are not,[/i]
[i]	Beyond comprehension.[/i]
[i]	[/i]
[i]	[/i]I pulled the text away and read it aloud, knowing it would have taken Joseph an absurd amount of time to work it out.
	He snorted. “A bunch of gibberish, yeah?”
	“Yeah,” I said with a cocked brow. “Seems kinda dumb.”
	“Hey, lemme see it real quick.” Joseph took it from my hands and flipped through it. “Yep, there you go. This is one of those occult books, yeah? I've heard about 'em from Scott.”
	“Occult? What's that?”
	“I don't really know. He said they were all lies, though, yeah? A bunch of gibberish to trick you into buying the book, cause they'll make you think there is like, really cool stuff in it or like rituals and magic and stuff. But it's all a big trick, like religion. It's pretty common knowledge at this point. Everybody knows it.”
	[i]Like religion? [/i]I thought. Joseph wasn't devout and I understood that—but a big trick? Did he really think that? Didn't he say he believed in Gaol?
	“Yep, uh huh, there you go....” Joseph had opened the book to a random page toward the middle and held it out to me. “A ritual, yeah? I guarantee you if you did it it'd do nothing. Scott said he tried one once to summon a demon to make money or something but it didn't work.”
	“Wait, he tried to summon a-”
	“-I think he called the people who write these um... what was it... Oh! Cake oil sellers!”
	“Cake oil sellers...?”
	“Yes. They sell oil for baking cakes and say it makes the cake better, but it is just like water with stuff mixed in, yeah?”
	“Oh. That makes sense.” He handed me the book and I looked down at it. At the top of the page there was a complex looking shape; a shape formed of other, simple shapes, resulting into something captivating and important looking. “It's... clever.”
	“Yeah, there are apparently cults and stuff out there that worship and study this stuff. Real wack jobs, yeah?” He laughed. “Could you imagine? Living in some dank hole studying a book that means nothing? What a life.”
	[i]Thanks for comparing in to religion.... [/i]I thought bitterly. “It's just... I don't get it.”
	“Don't get what?” He asked with a cock of his head.
	“If everybody knows it's a scam, then why are there cults studying it?”
	“Some people are just dense, I guess. Religion is still-” He paused for a fraction of a second, his eyes suddenly darting to mine. “-doing good, a lot of preachers and stuff. But, um, I guess religion is a bit different. But yeah, what I meant to say is some people are just dense, yeah?”
	[i]Wow, thanks. I'm dense, then.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Hey, don't give me that face. [i]You're [/i]not dense. I just mean like, a lot of people, yeah? Saying they worship Gaol but then acting all evil. You're good, though. If there is a Gaol, then you're the closest thing to a true follower I've ever seen.”
	“Oh, uh, thanks.” I wasn't sure how to parse his insult turned compliment, so I just did my best to ignore it and it's implications for the time being. “It's just... weird, is all.”
	“Eh.”
	“The person who wrote this sounds like they took it seriously. I dunno [i]why [/i]they sounded like that--I can just tell. I mean, they took it seriously enough to write this message in the book. A message they didn't make any money from.”
	“Yeah, well,” Joseph scratched his chin. “They probably did it to mess with whoever was dumb enough to take the book. Or maybe it was done by the writer? Or maybe they were just one of those tools who bought into it, yeah?”
	“A tool?”
	“Yeah, tool. A tool is someone who... um, they're... someone who.... Uh, I'm not really sure how to explain it. I'll have to ask Scott sometime, yeah? But it's, like, right now it's a dumb person who just does whatever they're told, yeah? Too dumb to think for themself.”
	“Oh....” I responded, unsatisfied. “I guess that makes sense.”
	“Yep. So it's just a dumb occult book. Wouldn't bother with it.” Joseph started to meander away, his face steadily retaking on that expression of infinite boredom. “Are you almost done, by the way?”
	“Yeah, yeah,” I answered absentmindedly. “Just a few more minutes.”
	“'Kay.” He returned his attention to tapping his fingers all over his body and surrounding objects in a series of random rhythms and speeds.
	I flipped through the book for more pictures of the strange, captivating shapes. I read a few parts from various rituals, and found each one stranger than the last. A lot of them involved ingredients, or, as it called them in the book, 'reagents'—all of which I'd never heard of. A few of them even called for blood and animal sacrifice, which I found extremely disturbing.
	After a bit, I closed the book and returned it. My eyes once again scanned the spines of the books in search of my next read. The note scribbled on the book ran through my head on repeat:
	[i]“Starry-eyed moments, both heard and felt;[/i]
[i]		Space infinite where the answers dwelt.”[/i]
	What moments? What sorts of moments? What answers? What sorts of answers? And for that matter, what [i]questions?[/i] The utter seriousness of the work made it hard to believe Joseph's adopted opinion of it. I could not actively prove the wrongness of his skepticism, yet I still felt compelled to disagree with it.
	Maybe there was some trickery afoot. Maybe it was as Joseph had described it: a scheme by a cake oil salesman. But for there to be existing cults surrounded by this sort of information in an age where everyone knows it is a trick? What did they believe? What had they told themselves? What did they [i]know?[/i]
[i]	[/i]Whether the information contained in these enigmatic texts was true, false, or something in between, it seemed all secondary to the fact that people are capable of creating powerful works that can control others, all against the judgment of society.
	The primary question which presented itself to me, beyond even my curiosities surrounding the proposed belief systems created in this text, was the simple question of 'how?' How did someone learn to do this? How did they manage to defend themselves against the myriad of criticisms presumably lobbed against them time and time again? And more importantly than that, how did they come up with it all?
	“Oh, fancy runnin' into you here.”
	The voice echoed through the near empty library, causing both of our heads to snap in the direction of the door.
	Joseph looked at him as if he were the last thing he'd ever expected to enter the room. I looked at him with surprise, and more than a little discomfort, and maybe a little curious excitement too.
	“I was just strollin' by when I looked in the window and take a look at who I found.” Lucky approached a table and took a seat.
	I walked over to the table with my 'maybe' books in hand and took the seat opposite of him.
	“Hey, Lucky.”
	“Hey, little thing. How are ya?”
	“I'm good. Just hanging out with Joseph and checking out a new book.”
	“Hmm,” Lucky glanced over at Joseph, but quickly looked back toward me. “Read a lot, huh? That's a good habit. That's what gets Scott so smart, ya know?”
	“Uh huh,” I smiled. “I've heard it's a really good habit, but... I honestly just do it cause it's fun.”
	“He finds it fun, of all things! That's the sign of a genius for sure! What're ya readin'?”
	O-Oh, I don't really have anything right now....” I looked over at Joseph, who was standing in the same spot, looking at us with a sour expression on his face. “Um, J-Joseph, you could join us if you want.”
	Lucky looked over at him and cocked a brow. “Yeah, sure. Come over and take a seat.”
	Joseph looked back at him and squinted a bit. Lucky had sounded candid, for the most part, but there'd been a slight bit of something in his voice.
	“Alright.” Joseph approached the table and took the seat closest to him, to the side of both Lucky and I.
	“Yeah, anyway,” Lucky continued, turning to face me. “You keep up that readin' habit. It's good for you. Oh! I bet I could get a book or two from ***Mae-, er, I mean, one of my buds in town. He does some readin' himself. He lent Scott a couple of his books before.”
	Tap tap tap tap.
	“Oh, really?” I replied, beaming. “That would be really cool! A lot of the books here are messed up or weird. It looks like there's a lot to choose from, but it's weird how many books you can look through without finding a single one that looks good....”
	Tap tap tap tap.
	“I bet it is, I bet it is.... But I'll tell you he's got some great books. A lot of 'em are about politics, I'll try and pick out something different, though, if I can find somethin'-- unless you want some politics or somethin'.”
	Tap tap tap tap.
	“Um, I guess I don't really know anything about... pol-li-tics.”
	Tap tap tap tap.
	Lucky laughed. “It doesn't sound much like you do!”
	I blushed and Joseph scowled at him, his tapping fingers coming to an abrupt stop.
	“Not your fault, though. Not a bit. You got an ex-governor for a Headmaster and the damn dirty bastard don't teach us a thing, so you don't even know how to say politics, let alone point out a capitalist.”
	Lucky laughed again. I glanced over at Joseph. He still seemed displeased, but less so.
	Tap tap tap tap.
	“Anyway, I just figured I'd say hi. Just got back from town, which is where I spend my time mostly. Saw you in here and figured I'd see how ya were. Imma head back now, though.”
	“O-Oh. Thanks for stopping in. It was cool to talk to you again.”
	“Yeah, no prob. You have a good one, Leo.”
	Lucky got up and headed for the door.
	“Have a good one, [i]Lucky.[/i]” Joseph said with some harshness.
	“Yeah, you too.” Lucky responded, not stopping or turning around.
	Joseph and I remained sitting at the table in silence for a few moments after he left. I felt the table shake lightly as Joseph vibrated his entire leg, still in an attempt to burn off nervous energy.
	“I hate him.” Joseph suddenly began, facing away from me.
	“Why?”
	“He is an idiot, yeah? An ass and an idiot.”
	“He isn't that bad,” I went on, frowning. “I wish you'd give him another chance.”
	He had one hand rested on the table. It suddenly curled into a fist. He glanced at it and then glanced at me, and then he slipped it underneath the table where I couldn't see it any longer.
	“Come on...” I whined. “Give him another chance. Lucky's lonely; I can tell.”
	“Don't you think I was lonely all those years when he was treating me like crap...?” He rested his head on his other hand and continued to look away.
	“I know, but that's exactly why you should be nice to him. You guys aren't that different! He gets treated like crap from Blon and Ant, and I can tell he is-”
	Thump
	[i]Joseph's eyes jolted open and his body flinched. A strange, tight noise came from his chest, as if he was in pain.[/i]
	“Um, are you okay-?”
	“-Yes” His cheeks turned a pale shade of red.
	“Did your tail hit the side of the-?”
	“-Yes.”
	Tap tap tap tap. The rasping of his fingers on the table continued on and off for the rest of the conversation.
	I sighed. If his tail was swinging around that wildly, he was more frustrated than I'd thought. “It's just... When I got here I didn't have any friends, and I dunno what I would'a done if you hadn't come over to me....” It was my turn to blush and turn away, but I forced myself to turn my head back in his direction. “Lucky doesn't really have any friends either.”
	“What about all his precious friends in town?”
	“You're the one who told me if he has friends in town, they probably treat him bad too!”
	“Don't you think that says more about Lucky's personality rather than his... oh, I don't know, luck?”
	I sneered at him. “I wouldn't [i]know, [/i]because I don't [i]know [/i]anybody in town, so I couldn't really [i]say [/i]anything about that, could I?”
	Joseph pulled back a bit in shock, but he quickly hardened his expression. “Fine then. You wanna go to town so badly, yeah? I'll take you there. I'll show you everything you wanna see. We'll make a day of it, yeah? Show you the market, yeah? And all the super, nice, awesome, super nice people and their great, great families, yeah? Sound fun, yeah?”
	The shock in Joseph's look in response to my harsh tone made me nearly cringe with guilt, but the words 'great, great families, yeah' made things far worse. Suddenly, I'd understood Joseph's aversion to town. Why he didn't want to take me there and why he didn't want to go there himself.
	And there was more guilt, from how quickly the other bits of guilt were washed away by the rising tides of my excitement.
	“T-This isn't a joke, is it?”
	“No. I am being completely serious, yeah? I'll take you in a couple days, when the rain stops, yeah? We'll go there and you'll see it all for yourself... yeah?”
	I sat completely still, watching Joseph's body vibrate along with the motion of his leg, which hopped up and down along with his rasping fingers. A smile started to creep over my lips.
	“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
	Joseph cocked an eyebrow at me. “Whatever, yeah? I'm hungry. Let's go eat, yeah?” He stood and moved toward the door.
	“Thank you! Thank you! Thank [i]yo-u[/i]!” I drawled the last syllable and jumped out my chair. I launched in the direction of Joseph. He turned toward me in confusion, in that moment of weakness, I went forward and wrapped my hands around him.
	“Whoa, whoa! H-Hey! Wh-What are you-what are you doing?!”
	I could feel him squirming around, trying to peel away, but I was entirely too jubilant to let him off that easy.
	“Leonidus!” His usage of my entire name caught my attention, and he pushed my off while I was distracted. “What was that?”
	“It was a... hug....”
	“Crap!” He said peeking out the library door's broken window hole. “I hope nobody saw that.... No, no, looks like we're good. Leo,” he suddenly turned toward me. “Do not [i]ever [/i]do that again.”
	“B-But... why...?”
	“Leo, that's [i]gay![/i] You can't touch other guys like that. You only hug girls, yeah? [i]Only [/i]girls.”
	“O-Oh.... But isn't gay... you know, liking another boy?”
	Joseph visibly cringed. “Ye-Yes, yes it is, but touching other guys is gay too. And even if you don't mean to be gay when you do it, it's still a gay thing to do, yeah? And everybody is gonna see a gay thing, yeah?”
	“Oh... okay. I'm, um... sorry.” I balled my hands into fists and took a step back.
	“Yeah, it's okay. You didn't know. Don't worry about it, yeah? --Hey, how about we go get some food and forget all about this?”
	I looked up at him. Suddenly, he seemed to be in good spirits, as if all the negativeness from earlier had never happened.
	“Yeah, sure.”
	He turned toward the door.
	“O-Oh, Joseph?”
	“Yeah?”
	“I had one more question.... Um, about the hugging thing.”
	He did a quick look back and forth out the broken window hole. “Yeah, sure, just ask it quick.”
	“Is it okay to hug grown-ups? Even if they're boys too?”
	The muscles in Joseph's face relaxed.
	...No, actually, I thought they relaxed at first, but I realized quickly they'd actually gone deliberately slack. His eyes widened and he slammed both hands down on my shoulders, eliciting a small, surprised yelp from my throat.
	“Leonidus,” he said with the utmost gravity. A tone I'd never heard him take on since we'd met. “[i]Never [/i]let a grown-up touch you—not if he is a man. If a grown man ever tries to hug you, make sure I am the [i]first [/i]person you tell, alright?”
	I nodded my head, too shocked to speak.
	“Good,” he let go of my shoulders. “Now let's go eat.”

Chapter Ten

	I dragged my hands across my face, rubbing my eyes with the tips of my fingers. My entire body shuddered with the murky discomfort of waking up, and I felt a twinge of jealousy for Joseph's morning energy.
	Images of last night's unfinished dream ran through my mind, branching off into strange paths and repeating with familiar patterns, all in a search for some kind of finality. I hoped that if I thought hard enough, I could branch the dreams (now just 'thoughts') off into an appropriate end, and I could relief myself of the agitation they'd caused. But I knew from experience that the moment the dreamer wakes, that unique brand of satisfaction is lost.
	Judging from the images in my mind, I'd dreamed about yesterday.  The moment I'd woken up and all the feelings became more than just feelings, I'd realized we'd likely annoyed each other that day more than any other.
	Strangely, this notion brought me peace.
	Sometimes I wondered how much Joseph actually liked me, and I often doubted he liked me as much as I liked him. Why would he like me? I was such a handful....
	But as far as my liking of Joseph went, I liked him even when I disliked him. Some dynamic aspect of our relationship always pulled me toward him; it made me feel wrong whenever he was not nearby.
	The interest I had in completing my dream faded as my eyes pried open against the better judgment of the sunlight. Although the satisfaction of a completed dream had been denied, the images continued to run through my head, and I knew from experience they would continue until I found something suitable to replace them.
	So I did what I normally did when I wanted a distraction: I allowed myself to imagine Mrs. Shire. I thought of the day we'd met, the few times we'd talked, and of the time she'd brought me to West-End, which was a day I'd forget no time soon. I ruminated on the future, and how badly I wanted to see her again. Joseph had served as a beacon of light for me, as if I were a lost ship at sea left wandering alone and afraid, though it was the thought of Mrs. Shire which had served as the waves which kept me in motion.
	Cryptic thoughts of this nature often led to thoughts of my mother. I did my best to keep them at bay, but they sometimes slipped in, in bits and pieces. Her death devastated me in many ways, but I often attributed the slow, arduous journey she took to the grave as largely responsible for how I endured. Tactically distracting myself from the unfixable problems surrounding me had worked thus far, so I forced the picture of her dying face from my mind, rapidly, desperately, lest it find burrow into a deeper crevice as to haunt me  in deeper ways.
	“Hey, Joseph, you wanna play a game with us?”
	My eyes opened. I first looked in the direction the voice had come from: a small group of kids across the room, a few of which I recognized, most of which I disliked. Then I looked toward Joseph's bed. He was lying down on his side, facing them, still buried beneath the generic, sky blue blankets of West-End. His head, however, had risen from the pillow and hung there in curiosity—among other emotions, I imagined.
	“You want to or not? We need one more player.” The voice rang out again, louder than necessary for so early in the morning.
	Joseph shot up, still facing the source of the noise. He nodded rapidly and hopped out of bed. Watching him nearly jog over to the group caused a strange sensation to form in my gut, because he'd not so much as glanced in my direction before heading over.
	[i]Is he trying to replace me? [/i]My chest tightened and more thoughts rushed in before I could even ask why it had tightened. [i]Does he hate me? Does he only hang out with me because I'm the only person who wants to hang out with him?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I frowned at myself, feeling suddenly nauseated. Of all the untrue and unbecoming thoughts I'd had, these had to be the most sickening. I tried to dismiss the worries as ridiculous, but it seemed having extinguished one source of paranoia from my thoughts simply left a void for another.
	I couldn't hear the kids muttering amongst themselves; I could only make out their actions and what they said in loud voices. They'd pushed two beds close together and the group of five, counting Joseph, faced each other with only a few feet apart. They sat Joseph down on the bed with one other kid, someone I'd interacted with maybe once or twice, but whom conferred with some of my least favorite people.
	“Okay, so the rules is easy,” said the loud boy from before. “We call it the punchin' game.”
	I cocked a sleepy eyebrow. [i]The punching game...?[/i]
[i]	[/i]“What you do's is you pick someone in the group and you punch'em and then it's their turn and they'll get to punch someone. We keep on doin' this 'til everyone is given up and there's only one person left punchin'. You got it? Okay, good. I'll go first.”
	The boy leaned forward and punched Joseph on the shoulder. Joseph winced and pulled back a bit. My eyes widened.
	“Okay, it's yer turn now, cat man. Pick someone and punch'em.”
	[i]Cat man...? Really?[/i]
	Joseph looked around the small group. He made eye contact with one boy who sneered back him. Joseph went forward and punched the boy on the shoulder, just as had been done to him by the loud boy.
	The Sneerer immediately moved toward Joseph and punched him back, on the shoulder closest to him. Joseph rubbed his arm and looked toward the loud boy who had announced the rules.
	“Well? It's yer turn again pick someone an punch'em.” The loud boy said irritably.
	Joseph looked around again, the open-minded expression of curiosity that had been on his face before beginning to droop. He punched the kid next to him on the arm, and the kid immediately punched back.
	All the kids looked at him expectantly, as if this were completely normal and he was holding up the game by not hitting anybody. Joseph's frown intensified a bit. He leaned forward and punched the loud kid.
	The loud kid punched Joseph back, again leaving him sitting there, stunned, rubbing the area of impact. The loud kid had punched him in the same spot as before, no doubt beginning to bruise him.
	Joseph suddenly began talking. I couldn't hear him, but I could tell from the movement of his lips and eyes that he spoke tentatively and said 'yeah' a lot, even though the course of his speech was short.
	“Nah, rules is for babies.” The loud kid remarked. “Punch-backs are just how the game plays. Can't change it now. Anyway, take yer turn whole damn world doesn't revolve 'round you cat man.”
	Joseph's frown started to take on the shape of stifled anger as he leaned forward and punched another one of the kids on the shoulder—this time with more force. The kid punched him back.
	The kid next to him snorted in amusement, and so Joseph chose him as his next target. The kid punched him back.
	Maybe he was still angry about the snort, maybe it was the smug smile on the snorter's face, or maybe he was just angry in general and he didn't know what to do next, but Joseph punched the same kid again, and the same kid punched him back.
	This went back and forth for several punches of steadily increasing intensity. The kid began to put his entire body weight into the punches—which was a surprising amount of weight considering the rest of the orphans around us—while Joseph stuck him in the arm with quick, tight jabs.
	After awhile, it started to seem like Joseph was winning the little endeavor when all the sudden the large kid struck out in range and hit Joseph in the mouth with no small amount of force. The kids in the circle gasped and smirked, and I jolted in my bed.
	Joseph's head remained turned backward for several moments. He slowly turned to face the boy, his wild eyes steadily coming into view. The wild eyes was the only remarkable thing about his expression; beyond his lips, which curled into a taut frown, no other part of him bore any change major enough to notice.
	He sat there for several moments, the boys looking at each other. At this point, the large boy turned toward Joseph, and thus away from me so I could not see his face, though I imagined it was not a pleased expression.
	“Yer turn, Joseph.” The loud boy said. He said this quietly, but I managed to read his lips this time.
	Joseph turned to face him, a look of actual shock and confusion on his face, and then a look of dismay.
	He looked down at the floor and then over at the kid next to him. He leaned across and punched the first kid he'd hit when the game started. I could see he did it lightly, but the kid did not mirror him nor show mercy. Before Joseph even sat all the way back on the bed, the kid punched him back with all his force, on the shoulder at least, but with enough power to knock him back.
	Joseph paused and closed his eyes for a moment, and then got to his feet. “I'm done.” From the motion of his lips, the words looked like they were uttered quietly.
	“Ah, don't be a pussy, cat man. One accidental punch to the face and yer bout ta cry—how 'bout that for ya?” He looked around at the other kids and snickered along with him them.
	“I'm not crying.” Joseph's voice rose a bit in anger, enough for me to hear it.
	“Yeah, yeah,” the loud kid went on. “Go on and run back to yer bed, ya big baby. It's no wonder nobody likes you a bit around here.... Such a damn loser.” He turned to face the other kids, as if suddenly Joseph had ceased to exist.
	With a look that took upon itself the very definition of sadness, Joseph meandered back to his bed. He crawled under the covers and covered his face with a pillow.
	I clutched my blanket and glared at the boys across the room with all my energy, like if I stared hard enough they'd realize the error of their ways and apologize to him.
	I remembered I'd been jealous for a few moments before. How I'd been worried that Joseph didn't want to be friends with me; that he'd been actively searching for my replacement.
	I snorted in spite of myself. That thought didn't just sound selfish, but it sounded insane, and I was embarrassed to had even considered it.
	I began to remove my covers to go over and comfort Joseph, or, at the very least, distract him, but stopped before bringing the blanket past my chest. I had a sudden feeling maybe it was still too soon, that maybe Joseph needed a little time to himself first.
	So instead, I remained there, watching him like a hawk. If he moved, I'd know about it. If anybody came over to him, I'd know about that too.
	I felt another twinge of guilt. Words that were half a question and half an acknowledgment of something despicable and true ran through my head:
	[i]Is this really all I can do for him?[/i]

Chapter Eleven

	“Hi.”
	“Hi.” I sat down on the edge of his bed, by his feet. It was the same spot he normally took on my bed.
	“...It's getting late. I should probably get up now, yeah?” He didn't sound as depressed as I'd been expecting.
	“No rush.” I replied. “Not like you need to be up for anything.”
	He snorted. “I guess we don't have any deadlines to keep, yeah?”
	“Nope.” I smiled. “But you can't stay in bed all day either.”
	He paused for moment. “...You just said there's no rush.”
	“Yes, but you can't just lie forever can you?”
	He turned to face me and frowned. “You're starting to sound like me, yeah?”
	I blushed a bit. “That doesn't sound like such a bad thing, yeah?”
	His frown morphed into a smile. He closed his eyes and sighed softly. “Alright, alright, I'm getting up. Just don't do that again, yeah?”
	“Do what? Say yeah, yeah?”
	“[i]Stop.” [/i]He said with sudden annoyance.
	“Okay,” I said, taken aback. “Gosh....”
	“Sorry, sorry. It just annoys the hell out of me when people do that.”
	...I held my tongue.
	“So, um...” I began. “I saw what happened.”
	His lips contorted in a strange way and he turned away from me. “Oh.”
	“...I'm sorry that they—”
	“-It's fine. Really, it's fine, yeah?” The words came out haltingly quick. “It's really not a big deal, yeah?” The bed started to shake lightly from the movement of his now vibrating leg.
	“Y-Yeah, I know, it's just.... It was really mean for them to keep on-”
	“-Yeah, no, I know what you're gonna say. I agree, yeah? But it's fine. It is completely fine, yeah? Anyway, I don't wanna talk about it, yeah? I just wanna forget it.”
	I opened my mouth to speak again, but let my lips slowly close. At no point in Joseph's rapid, almost [i]rabid [/i]speaking had he looked over at me. Not once. He'd looked just about every other place not in my direction. And his leg continued to beat with enough energy to rival a foot racer.
	“J-Joseph...?” My voice came out quiet and worried.
	His head jerked in my direction and his eyes widened a bit.
	“...Why is there blood on your bed.... W-Wait, it's-”
	He pulled his hand away and hid it beneath the covers, while simultaneously shifting the blanket over the blood spot.
	“Joseph! Why is your hand bleeding?”
	“Shh! Don't say it so loud....”
	“S-Sorry.... But, what happened...? W-Why is there blood in your bed?”
	“Don't worry about it. I just... scratched myself wrong.”
	“...Then why are you hiding your hand from me?”
	“I'm not [i]hiding it,[/i]” he said with sudden frustration.
	“Then show it to me. If you're not hiding it, show me your hand-”
	“-Look, it's nothing, yeah? It's nothing. Nothing at all, yeah? Nothing to see and nothing to show so just, just stop worrying about it, yeah? Stop pestering me.”
	“Joseph,” I said softly. “Please let me see your hand.... Please? I won't... do or say anything weird. Just lemme see it.”
	His eyes took on that look from earlier: the 'I feel like crying' look, except with an added edge of anxiety, like he were trapped in a small box. Seeing this look on his face made me sick to my stomach.
	“Please?” I asked one more time.
	His head started to turn toward me, as if he actually intended on meeting my eyes, but it stopped after a few inches. It turned away again, but I saw his hand move from beneath the covers. At first, for only an instant, but then it began to slide out.
	He presented his closest hand to me—the one that had not been bleeding. Even before I brought it up to my face I could tell there was something wrong. The claws had long been picked away, and while I'd noticed this before, I'd not noticed how far down they'd been chipped.
	Large portions of the claws had been peeled back past his finger, leaving long areas of soft, exposed flesh extending out past where his claws should have terminated. The spots where claw-nail was supposed to be were swollen and red and covered in dried blood and scabs. The areas to the sides of his claws, where the nail met the skin, were covered in dried blood too. One spot looked moist, as if he'd been picking at it and managed to open it up not long ago.
	My stomach lurched. Having seen this, I suddenly had no desire to see the other hand, the one which he'd mutilated badly enough to actually bleed on his bed.
	He gently slid his hand back under the covers. His expression remained nearly the same, but now more uncomfortable than sad—and in some strange way, petulant.
	“It's nothing...” He murmured.
	“Joseph.... That's not nothing.”
	“It's really not a big deal.”
	We sat in silence for several moments. I tried to find the right words, words that could make this dysfunctional situation find it's place in reality, to fit them together with the precision of perfect squares, but only jagged, irregular words came to mind, and words like that could never heal wounds of flesh.
	“You....” I shook my head. “You have to stop this.”
	“...I know,” he said after a brief silence. “I know I do, yeah?”
	“Why do you do it at all? Doesn't it hurt?”
	“Sometimes, yeah... Well, no, not sometimes. I mean when it gets like this it... it hurts all the time. And I do it because I have to. I don't have a choice.”
	“You have to?”
	“Yes. I can't stop. I just... have to do it, yeah? I can't explain it, yeah?”
	“Was, uh... the thing that happened earlier... the punching game.” He winced as I said it, but I continued on. “Did that make you wanna... pick?”
	“...Yeah, that's what got me doing it again. I kinda do it all the time, but not normally this bad. It makes me feel better... yeah?”
	“But... you're basically ripping the skin off your fingers. How does that make you-”
	“-I don't know, alright? I don't know, yeah? We can just stop talking about this, yeah? I've never... shown anyone that before, and for good reason, yeah? I don't wanna talk about it.”
	“Okay. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”
	He sighed with frustration.
	“There is one more thing I wanna say, though. Before we talk about something else.”
	He turned his head the slightest bit in my direction.
	“I don't know if saying it will make any difference or anything, but please, you have to stop. This isn't good for you. This isn't... [i]natural. [/i]Please try not to do it anymore.”
	“I can't make any promises. When things happen, I... I don't really have control over myself sometimes. This helps me.”
	“If you ever wanna talk or if there is anything I can do to help, come to me, and I promise I'll do everything I can... but you can't keep doing this. If any part of you can stop, then... just stop.--Please, for me.”
	He sighed again, this time a very uncomfortable, even more frustrated sigh. “Fine. I'll try, yeah? But like I said, no promises.”
	“Just promise you'll try.”
	“Fine, whatever, I'll try, yeah? Can we stop talking about this now? I wanna get out of here; it sucks in here and I need some air.”
	When Joseph finally pried himself from his covers, he led the way to his usual training spot. I followed behind him, still having trouble keeping up, but getting better at weaving and ducking through the predictable vines and branches.
	I'd once asked Joseph why he hadn't cleared more of it out of the way, and he'd said to keep the path difficult to follow, to prevent unwanted people from finding the spot. He'd definitely been successful, since without a guide or previous experience, getting off the path in the natural clearings was almost a guarantee; though, I worried my flat-footing had severely compromised its stealth.
	 When we arrived, Joseph started training in silence, a large frown on his face, a certain lethargy to all his actions and to all his pauses. I forced myself up into my tree and awkwardly tottered my way over to my reading spot--a small area created by two twisting branches which held me firmly in place.
	I glanced over at him every few moments. His sullen look grew lower and more strained, until the 'I feel like crying' look returned. It always made me want to do something, anything to help, but I never knew what. I never knew how I could be of any benefit to someone like him. So I just looked over every few moments, hoping my concern could stand in for real action
	Joseph warmed up with his stretches and then hesitatingly went into the more intensives maneuvers of his regimen. I say hesitatingly because he normally did so with a sense of haste that was constantly at ends with the setting sun, but this time he paused and fidgeted for a few moments before beginning his running exercises, which were also done without their usual vigor.
	Between exercises he would pause and look around, as if having to will himself on to the next bout of intense motion. Whenever he messed up or made a mistake, he'd come to a complete stop, pause, and then begin again. The running exercises were slow, the jumping exercises were halfhearted, and anything that involved a flip came after immense delay—though, were done with expert grace as usual.
	After about an hour, Joseph looked up and met my eyes.
	“I think...” He paused a moment, and then went on uncertainly. “I think I'm gonna head back.”
	I looked at him with concern and closed my book.
	Like the walk there, we stayed silent on the way back. Joseph said nothing, I said nothing, and he maintained a healthy distance ahead of me, even further than usual, making it clear he wanted it like that.
	I thought about asking if he wanted to go swimming, but quickly reconsidered. If I asked, he'd feel pressured to take me there, as if I wanted to go for my sake. Plus, he was in no mental state to worry about his shirt. (We'd gone swimming one other time since my second day at West-End, and he'd just swam in his clothes).
	Upon returning, we headed to the cafeteria and ate lunch in silence. I looked up from my soup every few moments to steal a glance at him, but he never looked back at me.
	His entire body meandered and swayed like it weighed a million pounds. His feet dragged, his ears sagged, and his tail bobbed around loosely. Whenever I saw his eyes, they looked back at me drolly, emptily, his eye lids hanging low like weighed down hammocks.
	After we finished our meal of silence, Joseph promptly excused himself to bed with a wave of the hand and a hardly audible utterance.
	I stopped him and asked if he planned on using this time to pick. He looked back at me as if I were the most uninteresting thing in the world and said no, with no particular inflection in his voice.
	I decided to trust him on this and let him go, though I thought later even if he'd laughed in my face and started ripping his own flesh off right there, there was little I could do to stop him. I did believe him, though. He seemed too downtrodden for any action, even a relieving one.
	I went back to my bed and tried to read my new book, but my eyes glazed over and my mind wondered ceaselessly. I thought about Joseph and about his depressed state and 'the punching game.'
	[i]It's disgusting. [/i]My lips curled down into a tight frown. [i]How did they even think of something so stupid to begin with? Did they do it JUST to screw with Joseph? I've never seen anyone play it before.... But why go through all that trouble? Why would anybody want to tease him like that?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I remembered how quickly he'd sat up when they'd called him, like he'd been waiting for it—not in the short term, but in the [i]long term. [/i]As if he'd been [i]wishing [/i]for it, for somebody, somewhere, to involve him, waiting for the end of his isolation.
	I looked up from the book and over at the sullen mass beneath Joseph's, my frown tighter now. I looked across the room and regarded the few kids left inside who'd been involved in the game with contempt. How could they not care about the pain they'd caused him? How could such a thing actually [i]please [/i]them?  My heart pounded against my chest, emphasizing my anger.
	Where was Daughtry when all of this was going on? Why was he not here? Why was nothing ever under control? We were kids. All of us. Everybody in this room. Even I could recognize that, and I was the youngest.
	Was there something I was not understanding? Some sick joke to which I was not privy? Who gained from this demented arrangement of abandoning kids in Flux; in a place where one's odds of success were based on their ability to be evil?
	The word evil made my chest tighten and my emotions rage. I felt like a thunderstorm [i]searching [/i]for a tree to ignite.
	It just mystified me beyond on all understanding. It angered me beyond belief. I didn't know who to talk to. I didn't know who to [i]ask. [/i]I wasn't even sure what needed to be answered anymore.
	I'd asked Joseph and his responses had always been aimed at terminating the conversation as quickly as possible. 'That's life,' he'd say. Or, 'because they're all bastards,' and other equally misanthropic statements about humanity being fundamentally evil.
	I'd attempted to be specific as well, and had asked him about Daughtry. He usually ended the conversation even faster, and sometimes fell into a bad mood as a result.
	Every time I mentioned Daughtry around him, Joseph would get angry. His eyebrows would furl, his lips would curl down, his tail would lash around like a snake searching for prey. Other times, he would just scoff and go quiet, telling me not to mention that 'bastard's name, yeah?' Or, 'don't mention that... him, around me, yeah?'
	I often found humor in his responses, though I'd have never told him that.
	I looked at it like Daughtry were a parent and Joseph were an angry teenager. I didn't know too many teenagers, but Mother used to make jokes to me about how they were unruly, and how I was at such a good age. She'd say how she dreaded my growing older and dealing with my 'angst'.
	I learned very quickly that whatever angst was, it wasn't the emotion Joseph was feeling. Joseph's hatred toward Daughtry asserted itself without bounds. I could tell because he [i]refused[/i] to talk about him, but he would talk plenty about the other people he disliked.
	I looked up from my book again and gazed around the pit called West-End, seeing only dread and nausea. To my pleasure and momentary surprise, I caught sight of a boy reading a book, but the surprise faded when I recognized the red hair.
	I'd talked to Scott once before; Joseph had introduced us. I'd stood there silent, watching as Scott lectured us about politics, though most of it had gone over my head.
	Before this conversation, I'd vaguely recalled hearing that Joseph was older than him, but I'd begun to doubt it after seeing how Joseph nodded along with everything Scott said and looked at him with wide eyes, often times mouth hanging open as if in awe.
	Scott was popular around West-End, and unlike Blon and Ant, he managed this without being a sinister monster--at least to my knowledge. From what I'd heard and the little I'd seen, Scott cared a lot about the the orphan situation, as well as the things that led up to it, but that--and the fact he was a die-hard 'political-moralist'--were the only things I'd found out.
	I swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. An idea occurred to me, more like a joke at first, but seeming more and more plausible with each passing moment. Technically, I could walk across the room and speak to Scott of my own accord. I didn't [i]need [/i]Joseph to take me everywhere.
	A truly life changing development.
	I'd already been introduced, and even if we weren't well acquainted, this struck me as a textbook time to remedy that. Furthermore, not having Joseph by my side would allow me to be a bit more... [i]in-depth[/i] when I spoke of certain topics, most notably the Daughtry conundrum.
	 After several more nervous swallows (and a bit of nervous shuffling not unlike Joseph's restlessness), I stood up and headed in Scott's direction. My eyes instinctively went downward toward my feet, as I hearkened to Mrs. Shire's met-one advice.
	'[i]How unusual,' [/i]I thought with a mocking edge. '[i]The shy little Fen boy walking across the room without his personal bodyguard to keep him safe. I'd better stare.'[/i]
[i]	[/i]I looked up from my feet to see if their nosy eyes were indeed aimed in my direction, but only a few had taken any interest, and the interest was halfhearted at that. A few more eyes shifted to me upon my arrival at Scott's bed, but at that point, I'd made my journey and had far more serious concerns.
	Scott looked down from his book and half-cocked a red brow.
	“H-Hi.”
	“Um, hello... Do you need something?”
	“Um, I was-” I stopped to swallow. “I was just wondering if, if, um, w-we could, could, uh.... talk for a... few minutes.”
	His half-cocked brow went full cock. “I guess. What'd you come over to talk about?”
	I stared at him for several, long seconds, and then realized I'd spent the few precious seconds I had to conjure up a response on regretting having not planned this out better.
	“O-Oh, um, I was, uh... I was just thinking t-that y-y-you could m-maybe tell me a-ab-about... um....” I paused for a long moment, as I tried to determine how to start this off. Would it be better to start with West-End's situation? Maybe to mention Joseph? Or what about the Daughtry thing?
	“P-Politics?” I muttered, finally.
	The instant the word left my mouth his hard eyes softened and I detected the faint hints of a smile on his lips.
	“I should have figured,” he sat up and put a strip of ripped paper in his book to mark his place. “Politics is kind of my specialty, if you didn't know.”
	“I-It's not just that, though. I-I also wanted to ask about some o-o-other stuff too.... Stuff about West-End.”
	He squinted at me. “You're a smart one.”
	“H-Huh?”
	“So young and you already realize those two topics are one and the same.”
	“I d-do?”
	“It does my heart good to see the young ones picking up the cause.” Scott shook his head at me, like he were prideful of something intangible in the room. “What do you want to know.... Aw damn, what was your name again?
	“L-Leo....”
	“Leo! Leo, that was it. Now I remember—your friend's with Joseph.” He laughed. “What am I saying, of course you are! You're both the only two Fen in here! Yes, now I remember—he introduced us, but you didn't say much. --I like that. I feel like people should [i]listen [/i]more. If they just [i]listened [/i]they'd just... [i]get it.[/i]”
	“Um....”
	“Anyway, what'd you wanna know about? What can I tell you? You trying to learn a bit about the movement?”
	“The movement...?”
	“Of course! You've heard of the movement haven't you? The movement of political moralism? The One Movement to help shatter the shackles of argent reinvestment schemes and systematic oppression based on legacy wealth and privilege?”
	I stood there silently, staring at him.
	“Oh, you have a lot to learn, you little creature. Take a seat, Leo, I'll tell you everything.”
	My eyes widened a bit. I couldn't tell if this was a good thing or bad, but I decided to take a seat anyway. Good or bad, I was already locked in.
	He took a deep breath and paused for a moment, staring at me the entire time. “How much do you know about money? Do you know the difference between money and wealth?”
	“Um....”
	“Okay, okay, actually, I should start off by explaining what money is. Most people don't know what money is so I think it would be a good idea to get that out of the way before we start talking about the difference between the two. It'll be easier that way, just starting from scratch. That'll help if the brainwashing is bad.”
	“B-Brainwashing?”
	“Yes. You are familiar with brainwashing, right?”
	“I-I've heard of it.”
	“Okay, explain to me what you think it means.”
	“O-Oh, I-I, um, I'm-”
	“-Brainwashing is an argent propaganda trick. It's something that is institutionalized so they can get to the minds of babes—including the little kids. Even the not so little kids and adults. They'll pretty much brainwash [i]anybody[/i], but the younger the victim the more detestable it is. And it's the [i]young[/i] [i]ones[/i] the Argent's really aim for.”
	“A-Argent's?”
	“Ohn you don't know the [i]Argents[/i]?” He asked with infinite surprise. “Do you even know what argent means?”
	“I'm s-sorry, no....”
	“Wow, you've got a lot to learn, Leo, but I guess that's not your fault. Who is gonna tell you all this, huh? Not that corrupt bastard Daughtry. Anyway, argent is a word used to describe the rich. Like, the super rich who use their money to make more money and keep the poor poor.”
	“Daughtry is corrupt?”
	“Of course he is! Daughtry is one of the worst argent bastards I've ever seen. Sure, there are worse out there, guys who own more, guys who basically own [i]slaves, [/i]people who [i]literally [/i]own slaves,[i] [/i]but Daughtry used to be a governor and he used to do the Lord's bidding like some kind of lap dog—everybody knows it. He doesn't come out and say this stuff, but it's pretty obvious. You just look at his policy. It's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, that he is no friend of the Movement. Real bastard that guy.”
	“Hey, um, h-how come he stopped being a go-ver-ner, anyway? Why did he come to West-End?”
	“Because Comisosa seized his district. Publicly, it was advertised as a joint idea by Comisosa and Daughtry, when it was most likely just another scheme by the Lord and whoever is masterminding him, and they said something about how Daughtry wanted to 'help fight the fight at home,' --you know, 'cause he is too big of a coward to go fight the fight on the front lines against that slave-driver Germanus. Anyway, that's the public reason, but it's a whole lot of crap, I'll tell you that right now. ...Tch. Like we can trust anything this faulty administration of Argents and thieves and oppressors says or does. The real reason is cause he probably got threatened by some Movement radicalists and turned tail—no offense to you or your tail. He probably went to the Lord begging for protection, who then ordered Comisosa to take over control to help quell the One Movement, while Daughtry tried to save his own life by doing something that would appease both sides of the coin. Shifty bastard is what he is. Can't even die for his own beliefs. What's even more disturbing is that it is impossible to tell whether these 'Movement radicalists' were even real radicalists or not. They might have been sent by the Lord himself to spook Daughtry so he could repossess the district.”
	I remained speechless. I didn't understand even half of what Scott was saying, but I'd understood enough to gather that Daughtry was a craven and devoid of honor.
	Scott went on for awhile, mostly talking about things that went far over my head. About the only thing I got out of it was a complicated explanation of money, about how it represented something and didn't actually exist, and that the rich 'propagate the illusion to stay rich.'
	I refrained from asking what 'propagate' meant. I also pretended to understand what the illusion was. I believed I had a general idea, but had he asked for an explanation, I'd have remained speechless.
	When his monologue came to an end he asked if I had any questions. I shook my head and he laughed.
	“Don't worry, I know it's a lot to take in. Once you start seeing it for yourself it'll make more sense. It's like... you ever seen those toy blocks real little kids use? They build them and up and up...? Well, that top block can't be placed until the bottom ones are. So you'll get to the top block eventually, but there are a lot smaller, littler blocks you've gotta place first. And then your eyes will open.”
	I nodded, feeling a bit reassured. At least he wasn't mad.
	“Just keep on paying attention and you'll see through the lies. Don't let yourself be deceived.... One of my favorite philosophers once said 'in the short term, deception is in the fault of the deceiver.' Think about that, Leo. 'In the short term.' If you can figure out the significance behind those words, I promise you'll make an excellent addition to the Movement when you get a bit older. [i]Ode Fig Sol[/i], Leo. Honors to the One!”

Chapter Twelve

	“Ung....” My eyes opened to a black ceiling. Around me, moonlight faintly illuminated the usual forms: the lined up beds, the chipped and stained walls, the myriad of windows against the wooded backdrop. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a few moments, light-headed and heavy-lidded.
	The first thing I always did when I woke up, especially when I woke up in the middle of the night, was check Joseph's bed. The sight of his sleeping form gave me all I needed to force myself up, to get my feet moving one step at a time through the darkness, even on the blackest of nights.
	“Huh...?” I got to my feet and squinted at his bed, too overwhelmed by the darkness to move. I stood there for several moments, struggling to discern what looked off about the cloudy picture of his bed hidden in the darkness, until I realized his blanket had been pulled back, moonlight shone directly on the mattress, in the center, right where Joseph should have been.
	I swallowed.
	[i]Maybe he went to the bathroom.... [/i]I thought. [i]After all, that's why I'm up.[/i]
	I balled my hands and began turning toward the hallway that connected the Bunker to the hallway. In the corner of my eye, I caught the sight of the window closest to Joseph's bed.
	It was open.
	I turned slowly back toward it, my heart beginning to pump nervous blood through my veins.
	[i]Please tell me he didn't....[/i]
	I sighed and squirmed around a bit in agitation. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Possibly even lower than the last.
	...[i]He did, didn't he?[/i]
[i]	[/i]I stared at the window for a few more uncomfortable moments and sighed again.
	[i]Damn it.[/i]
[i]	[/i]I approached it, one deliberate step at a time. As I got closer, I began to smell the pine of the trees outside and felt the chilly air flow against my fur. I took a deep breath. As spooky as it all was, the air outside was fresher than the air inside--more natural, and sweeter too, devoid of the compressed bodily odor and heavily breathing, heavily sweating males piled into the room.
	I found the outside of West-End at night to be the only thing scarier than the inside of West-End at night, but I still took a moment to appreciate the natural light of the moon and the way it lit everything up so one could see all the way to the woods. I stuck my head out the window and looked around, confirming that outside, lit up or not, was just horrifying as I'd suspected.
	Every corner and every bush and every dark spot concealed that terrible specter known as the unknown.
	I glanced at the door frame to the Bunker. I'd spent a fair amount of time in bed, half-wake, and I'd spent a fair amount of time dallying around, trying to will myself to move through the darkness, and in all this time, nobody had risen or entered the room. If Joseph had gone to the bathroom, he'd have already returned.
	I grimaced and rested my hands on the cold window sill. [i]I guess I don't have a choice....[/i]
[i]	[/i]Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the persistent gnawing for food that never left my belly. Maybe it was just a truly authentic and rather immediate concern for Joseph. Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever the reason, I crawled out of the window and landed in the thick grass that surrounded the orphanage.
	I stood there for several fearful moments, looking all around, feeling suddenly a million times more exposed. I knew that whatever motivations had managed to drive me outside would only drive me so far.
	I put my hand on the wall and trudged through the tall grass—so tall that the untrodden parts towered over me. I listened closely, but heard only crickets and frogs and the occasional rustle of leaves from what I imagined were small, crawling things. I heard a rustle and flinched all over, and then waited in absolute stillness for several moments. This happened several times, and each time, I waited for my heart to return to a somewhat normal pace before I resumed walking again.
	I followed the usual path of flattened weeds around this seldom visited portion of West-End, dragging my hand against the wall as I moved. However, I knew the path ended soon, a thought which worried me just as much as it relieved me.
	I rounded the corner and trudged as far I could, but the grass and vines and weeds and all other manner of frustrating green things grew thicker with every step. Within a few moments, I reached what looked like a false wall of weeds and vines, all growing in a dense web that would take no small effort to pass. If I went around, I'd have to force my way through untrod grass, and not only was that dangerous, but exceptionally difficult for someone as small as I was.
	 It seemed like such a waste to just turn around after all that effort, but how could Joseph had gotten over there? Had he gone the other way when he came out the window? Had he gone straight into the woods?
	[i]Maybe I shouldn't have come out here at all.... [/i]I thought.[i] Maybe he really [/i]isn't [i]out here and he is sick or something and he opened the window because he wanted some fresh air. Or... could he have been kidnapped? No. That's impossible.... Right? There isn't any way that... that someone actually opened the window from the outside... from out here... where I am right now....[/i]
[i]	[/i]And then, from some unseen location, there was a sharp, bodily noise, something like a snort, that cut through the silence and ended my thoughts. My body froze and my heart pounded against my chest like it were trying to free itself from my doomed frame. My tail shook lightly at the tip. I held my breath and did the only thing I could: I listened. I listened and I hoped and I prayed.
	I heard the noise again a few moments later, and realized that it was not a snort, but a sniffle. A very human sounding sniffle.
	A snort I could chalk up to a boar or some other terrifying creature of the night, to a creature that needs no name nor introduction nor even sense—to that wretched thing called unknown. But a sniffle? What sniffles before murdering you savagely?
	And then I heard it again, followed by a brief ruffling of leaves and twigs.
	[i]Hmm.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Driven now by a suspicion, I moved forward, tearing the vines out of my way with my claws. I soon realized, with some ducking and clever maneuvering, that I could pass this brush patch and navigate through the rest fairly easily. The moment I passed the dense area, I came to an abrupt stop.
	Curled up in the grass, about ten feet up ahead, was a black figure.
	“You destroyed my vine wall.” The figure spoke. “You could have just crawled under it. There was a hole, yeah?”
	I flinched with surprise. “O-Oh, sorry.”
	He snorted. This time a real snort. “It's fine. Not like I built it, yeah?” He turned away from me.
	“Yeah....”I looked back at the vine wall for a moment, before turning to face Joseph. “What are you doing out here?”
	“Sitting.”
	“I can see that.” I'd hoped this would prompt him to elaborate, but he remained silent. I approached.
	“How come you're out here, yeah?” He asked. “Shouldn't you be asleep?”
	“I woke up to pee.”
	“Shoulda figured.” He paused for a few moments, and then continued. “Go back inside and get some sleep. I'll be okay out here.” His leg started to bounce up and down and I saw his tail flick around a bit, like it were shooing me away.
	“No.”
	He turned toward me. “No?”
	“No. I'm not just gonna leave you out here like this. You won't even tell me why you're out here in the first place.”
	He slowly turned away. I took a seat next to him, my hips pressing against his as I sat down. He pushed himself away, but he couldn't get far, as the thick patch of grass he was leaning against pushed back.
	“Why are you out here?” I pressed.
	“Because I wanted some fresh air.”
	“That couldn't wait until morning?”
	“No.” He sniffed again.
	I stared at him for a few silent seconds. “...Have you been crying?”
	“-No!” He barked back. “I don't cry, yeah? I-It's just... allergies.”
	“Alright, alright....” I frowned.
	He snorted again, this time with some venom. Several minutes of silence passed. He stared off into the darkness. I followed the path of his eyes, but all I saw were billows of grass and weeds bending in the wind. I took a deep breath and took in the scent of pine.
	“It's nice out here.” I said.
	“Yeah, see, I told ya.” He sniffed again, rubbing his nose aggressively, as if to punish it for being an accomplice to his shame.
	“Should'a trusted you. It's kinda cold, though.”
	“You get used to it after awhile. Like, not just out here, but in general, yeah?”
	“...What do you mean?”
	“Numbness. You get numb after awhile. Like all the time. Most of the time, yeah?”
	“You do?”
	“Yeah, after awhile it's like you don't even feel it, yeah?” He sighed softly. A moment later, he continued. “T-There's other stuff, too, though. You get numb to everything, yeah? To all the bad feelings.”
	“To the bad feelings...?” I pursed my brow and looked down. I wanted to ask him what he meant, and maybe he expected me too, but somehow I felt like I already knew. “Do you get numb to all of them?” I asked instead.
	“Yeah.” He answered solemnly. “I think so.”
	“...What about hunger? Do you get numb to the hunger...? Cause I'm really tired of being hungry all the time.” I put my hands on my stomach. “I'm [i]really [/i]tired of being hungry.”
	“I am too. Sometimes, that's the worst part. Going to bed and the only thing you can think about is that pain, hoping that you fall asleep so you can at least have a few hours where you don't have to think about it—and then you go and dream about it, yeah? But sometimes, yes, you even forget about the hunger. That's how it all goes, yeah? You learn to forget about it, yeah? It's all you can do. Forget. The more you forget, the better off you are.”
	 “...That's depressing to think about.” My frown deepened. “Don't things ever get better?”
	He snorted again, this time louder. “You realize they've been cutting our food rations to fund the war, right? We're getting less food and less food everyday, yeah? You're just new here so you haven't had a chance to notice it.”
	“B-But.... Why? Why would they do that? They barely feed us enough as it is....”
	His tone grew harsh. “Isn't it obvious?
	“Is what obvious...?”
	“They don't care about us, Leo. They don't care at all.”
	“But-”
	“-No buts. If they cared about us, it's only because they care enough to hate us, yeah? Just look at how they act around us. How they [i]treat us. [/i]How they blame us for things. It's like putting a log in a fire and blaming it for getting all burnt up. They're all a bunch of bastards and idiots!” He tail smacked against the wall of West-End, hard enough to make him flinch with pain.
	“But... that... can't be true.”
	“Oh? And why is that? Why [i]would[/i] they care about us, yeah? What do we do for them? We eat the food they give us and crap it out and then go to town and steal from their stalls and beat up their spoiled little kids.” His tail smacked against the side of West-End again, thumping loudly. “They hate us. And we hate them.”
	“But we don't do any of those things! I've never even [i]been [/i]to town and I've never seen you go there. Plus you'd never beat-”
	“-[i]I know that.” [/i]He hissed. “Do you think it matters? Do you [i]really[/i] think it matters at [i]all?[/i] Cause it doesn't, yeah? We're orphans. Orphans, and that is what orphans do, yeah? All of 'em. They don't succeed or change or get money; they just rot away and die and help fertilize the ground. The only thing we can ever [i]hope[/i] [i]to be[/i] are thieves and bastards and dead and the best of us, the [i]best of us,[/i] they're lucky if they get to be [i]laborers.[/i] We're not supposed to succeed, Leo. It isn't meant for us, yeah? We are supposed to die. We're [i]supposed to die. [/i]That's what this is about. That's what this place [i]is. [/i]I wish you'd just open your eyes and get it already.” He crossed his arms and leaned back into the vines. His body was half-turned toward me now.
	“But that... that doesn't make any sense! So you're telling me they keep us alive so we'll turn into thieves and [i]die[/i]? That they hate all of us just because we're orphans? I'm sure there are some like that, people like Daughtry maybe, who don't care us and who don't seem care about anybody but themselves...” --he sneered at the mention of Daughtry's name--”but I [i]refuse [/i]to believe that nobody cares about us. What about the pious? The worshipers of Gaol? They have to love us to do Gaol's will, don't they? That's what they do. It's their life.”
	“Gaol is a lie.”
	My eyes widened and air rushed into my lungs. “Wh-What?”
	He turned to face me. “Gaol. Is. A lie.”
	We sat in silence for a few moments. He sighed heavily and uncurled himself. He sat crossed-legged, nearly touching me. “Sorry. I went too far. I don't know why I said all that, yeah?”
	“So you're.... heathen?”
	His head was turned back toward the woods. His eyes looked out into the blackness, his eye lids tight and low. ”Yeah. I'm heathen.”
	“I...see.”
	[i]All this time, [/i]I thought. [i]I heard him mention Gaol before. Never religiously, but I heard him mention him... and all this time, he didn't actually believe. He [/i]doesn't [i]believe.[/i]
[i]	Joseph is heathen.[/i]
	“Do you hate me now?” He asked suddenly.
	“What?”
	“Do you hate me now? For being heathen, yeah? You still believe in Gaol, yeah? So do you hate me? Do you hate me for saying all those things?”
	“No! Of course not-”
	“-I wouldn't blame you if you did. I deserve it. I really, truly deserve it. I wouldn't blame you at all, yeah?--Be honest.”
	“Wait, wait, why do you deserve it? Why should I suddenly hate you?”
	He remained silent, his head now hung, his eyes aimed at his own waist. I could partially make out the sight of his eyes, which were barely open.
	“I don't hate you, Joseph. I... I'm just surprised. And a little impressed.”
	He turned to face me. “You're impressed?”
	“Yes. I didn't know heathens could be so... nice. I'd always been taught to think they were misguided and evil and dangerous, but you're... you're not any of those things.”
	“I'm... not?”
	I looked up to meet his eyes, and found them staring back at me, determined, eyebrows furled forward. The question had been asked with the utmost seriousness.
	“No....” I nearly whispered. “Of... of course not. Why would you think that?”
	“I just don't get it. How can you believe in Gaol, then? If I'm not bad, then why does the world treat me like I am, yeah? If I'm good, and there is a Gaol... then why am I being punished like this?”
	“What do you mean... punished?”
	“I don't know what else to call it.”
	“To call what...?” I pressed.
	“This, yeah? Life. I don't know what else... I could see it as. I'm hungry all day, everyday. Every single day without exception and I am so [i]sick[/i] of it I can't even put it into [i]words, [/i]yeah? I hate this hunger so much, so much, so much, [i]so much. [/i]And it just makes me even madder to think that people like Blon and that stupid, ugly, freak Ant get food in town for being stupid ugly freaks and making all of us look like monsters. I'm treated like [i]shit [/i]by everyone in this [i]stupid [/i]place and if I get hurt I have to take care of myself. Myself. No one else cares. Nobody cares about me at all. Never. Nobody gives a shit about me beyond wanting me to just go and, and, d-die in t-the woods...” He went suddenly silent, and after about ten seconds, he swallowed and took a deep breath. “...What else am I supposed to think it is, yeah? How I am supposed to survive thinking this is just [i]life?[/i] This [i]has [/i]to be punishment. It has to be. It just has to be. I pray every night to Gaol or to any god that'll listen, even though I don't believe in any of 'em. Because it has to be, yeah? It has to be the worst. This has to be just about as bad as it gets, cause if its not....” He sighed, sounding suddenly exhausted. “But deep down... I know it isn't true. I know there isn't a Gaol, and I know there isn't any... divine punishment. I know there is no hope or justice or real love in this awful, awful place. Just monsters pointing fingers at other monsters, yeah? I know that at least. I know that if I'm a monster, then I'm not the only one, yeah? They don't get to punish [i]me[/i] like this. Treat [i]me[/i] like this. Never even give me a [i]chance [/i]and then on top of that, on top of [i]all of that, [/i]they don't get to, to, call [i]me[/i] a monster, yeah?” He paused again and took a deep breath. “...Not without being one themselves. If I'm a monster, just born one, just made one just because I got no other choice; then what does that make them, yeah? What are [i]they? [/i]All of 'em. Every single one. The ones here, the ones in town, the ones all over the world who don't care, yeah? The ones who exploit and torture and pass on their riches and oppress us all, yeah? The argents and the politicians and the, the, what did you call them? The evil? How many people out there do you think are good, Leo? Do you think-”
	He turned to face me for the first time in his diatribe and went silent.
	“A-Are you....” He leaned in a bit. “Are you crying?”
	“...Y-Yes.”
	“O-Oh crap. Crap. Crap. I-I didn't mean to... I was just... Oh, crap, I don't know what I was doing. I don't know why I said all that. I'm sorry, yeah? Please, please don't cry.” He reached toward me, but stopped before making contact.
	“It's okay.” I said, sniffling. “You can keep going if you want. I can take it.”
	“No, no. No more. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that, yeah? I promise things are going to be better for you, alright? You won't have things like I did. I'll make sure things aren't quite as.... No. No, I'll make sure they're [i]good[/i]. I promise. I'll make sure you have a good life, a great life. I pro-”
	“-I'm not crying because of that.”
	“You're... not?”
	“I'm not crying because I'm worried about how [i]my[/i] life is gonna be, I'm crying cause of how awful your life has been.” I sniffed. “Because of how awful life can be for [i]everybody[/i]. Cause of you and all the people like[i] [/i]you. People who feel like they're being... punished.”
	“What?”
	“I'm the one who's sorry. I know it... doesn't help. B-But it's all I can say.”
	“You're crying... because of people like me? Because of... me?” He squinted at me and spoke as if he were completely mystified. As if I were the very picture of two opposite forces working in tandem.
	“Y-Yes.” I sniffed again and rubbed my eyes. “W-Why? What's wrong?”
	“Oh.” He turned away from me, slowly, leaning back into the wall with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
	“Are you okay?”
	“Y-Yeah, just.... I don't know. No one has ever... cried for me before.” His voices sounded strained and confused.
	“Isn't that normal, though? I care about you.”
	“I....” He went silent for several moments and then continued. “Oh.”
	“What?”
	“Nothing... Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.” He spoke clearly now, and held his head up. “Leo, I'm sorry I said all of that, yeah? I shouldn't have. I know all of this crap isn't any easier for you.... You've got it just as bad as I do. Maybe worse.”
	“It's okay. I understand.... At least I think I do.” I picked at my claws, suddenly feeling bashful. “I'm glad you're here, though. I... I don't know if I could have survived without you.”
	I turned to face him and found him staring straight ahead, out into the wind drawn woods of black and silver, his expression crossed with an uncharacteristic sense of calmness, though with eyes wide and alert.
	“Thanks.” He said suddenly. “I'm happy you're here too.”
	“I'm glad,” I answered, smiling.
	“No, I mean... happier than... I could ever hope to put into words, y-yeah?” He swallowed and sat up, like he'd been bitten by a bug. In his haste, he smacked my side with his tail and offered no apology.
	“Anyway,” he continued in his normal tone with normal demeanor. “It's late as hell, yeah? Go in and get some rest.”
	“What about you?” I asked.
	“I just want a few more minutes to think. Get everything straight in my head. But I'll follow you in in a few minutes, yeah? I gotta straighten it out or I won't be able to sleep.”
	“...Okay. You're feeling better now, right?”
	“I am feeling much better now.”
	I smiled. “Okay.” I stood up and brushed the dirt off my butt and tail. “O-Oh...!” I leaned forward and grimaced.
	“What's the matter?”
	“I f-forgot to pee....”
	“You didn't go before you came looking for me....?” He watched my erratic stepping with a queer expression on his face. He laughed. “I shoulda figured. Go pee and then go to bed.”
	“'Kay. Night, Joseph.”
	“Night, Leo.”
	I rushed off, walking with swift steps until I reached the window. My fear for the dark hallways of West-End, and particularly for the abyssal hole they called a bathroom, led me to keep going past it, until I rounded the next corner and reached the front doors. I went past them and tucked myself away around the next corner, not far forward.
	I pawed at the slim, black strip of fabric tying my robe closed as my hips swayed back and forth, entirely of their own accord.
	“Hurry, hurry....”
	With one unending motion, I undid the robe, threw it open, and pulled my shorts out of the way.
	I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Just in time....”
	Then I smelled it. Something stale and gross hanging in the air. And no, it was not [i]that[/i]. It was something different. Like dirt in the form of smoke.
	“Leo?”
	The sudden proclamation of my name sent a visible shudder through my body. I twisted around, and leaning against the side of West-End, with a stick of tobacco in his mouth, was Lucky. His eyes rested on me, one of his eyebrows cocked upward in confusion.
	“What are you doing out here?” He asked.
	“U-U-Um.... P-Peeing....”
	“Yeah, I can see that.”
	“U-Uh, I'll-I'll j-just be a moment....”
	“Yeah.... Take your time.”
	“How come y-you're out here?”
	“Just havin' a smoke.” He took the tobacco stick from his mouth and held it out in front of his face, his eyes following the flame on the tip.
	A few moments later, I managed to stop urinating. I quickly redressed and turned to face him, blushing aggressively.
	“You still haven't answered my question. And if you came out here just to pee, why?”
	“I... like the fresh air.”
	He squinted his eyes at me, at first like he were angry, but his expression softened a moment later. “Really, huh? That just happens to be why I'm out here.”
	“Oh?”
	“Yes, that and to smoke.... You ever smoke, Leo?”
	“No, I've never smoked.”
	“Here,” he slipped his hand into his pocket but stopped a moment later. “Actually...” He handed me the stick between his fingers. “Inhale a bit of that and tell me how you like it first.”
	“O-Oh, um....” I took the tobacco feeling more than a little uncertain. “M-Maybe just a little....”
	I brought the stick to my lips with tentative slowness. I took a puff. Lucky's lips curled into a smile the moment he saw my grimace. I started coughing.
	“Jeez,” he said with a chuckle. “May be some of the old sunflower, but I've never seen someone take a stick as bad as that.”
	“That was awful.” I said into my clutched fist.
	He chuckled again and let his eyes close. A moment later, they slid carefully open and looked upward, toward the moon.
	“How can you smoke those things?”
	“You get used to it. And they work wonders for when you're tight.”
	“...Tight?”
	“Stressed.”
	“Oh.” We both stood silent for a few moments. I joined him in looking up at the moon; the moon shined its light back at us. “Are you stressed about something?”
	He paused for a moment, and then responded. “...Yeah, I am.”
	“What's wrong?” I looked over at him and saw his face in the light. It looked more somber than I'd ever seen it. It was crossed with a sternness, too—sternness and aloofity. And I think, beyond all of that, there was something more, some kind of deep sadness; the sort I often saw in Joseph's eyes when he looked off into the distance.
	He smiled. “...I can't say.”
	“Why not...?”
	“It's...” His smile turned into a frown. “It's complicated. Don't worry about it.”
	“Not something I would understand?”
	“...It's not that. I think you'd understand, Leo. That's kinda the sick part; you'd probably understand better'n anyone else at this awful place.”
	“Really?”
	“Yeah. Y'know, you don't give yourself enough credit. You got some brains in there yet.”
	“Oh! U-Um, thanks.”
	He snorted again. “And modest too. Of course he has to be modest too.”
	I stayed quiet, feeling a strong urge to ask what was wrong, but not wanting to ask him the same question over again.
	“I hate this place,” he said suddenly. “It just aint right here. This just aint right.”
	“What's not right?”
	“None'uh this. Not a damn bit of it.” He laughed loud enough and suddenly enough to startle me. “Look at me, talkin' 'bout what's right. Like it makes a damn difference any way or another.”
	“...But 'what's right' matters a lot.”
	He looked at me with surprise. “Damn,” he shook his head. “You're a smart kid. Maybe a little too smart. Or then again, maybe it's the complete opposite of that. But maybe it's better this way. Maybe it'll be better if you are the way you are.”
	“Wh...what?”
	“It's nothin, you lil' bastard. Nothing but position stuff I assure you.”
	We stayed silent for a bit longer.
	“There just isn't anything else. There's no other choice.” He began suddenly. He saw me look at him with confusion, and he continued on. “I mean all this. All this shit. There aint a choice about any of it. We just... do what we have to do. I didn't choose it, you know? All this shit. [i]All [/i]of it.”
	“Yeah, I know.”
	“You know, huh?”
	“Yeah, I-I... think so. I know a bit.”
	He snorted. “Yeah, I guess you do know a bit. At least a little. Blon made damn sure of that, like he always does. Stupid spoiled shit.”
	Lucky laughed when he saw the look of shock on my face.
	“Yeah, I said it. Don't repeat it to him if you wouldn't mind,” he leaned in a bit, “that's not too good for business, my lil' friend.”
	“Y-Yeah,” I smiled softly. “I-I won't say anything.”
	“Good boy.” He leaned back against the wall and averted his eyes toward the moon. He sighed heavily.
	I spent the next few moments reflecting on those words: 'good boy.' It seemed like an embarrassing, demeaning thing to say, like he'd put me in my place and acknowledged me all at the same time. But if that were true, why did the words make me feel so good?
	“You should get some rest.” He began again. “No need to stay up all night with my stupid ass.”
	“But I don't wanna just... leave you out here.”
	He chuckled again and shook his head. His eyes closed and he looked down at the dirt. His smiled turned to a frown; the features of his face relaxed. For a few moments, he looked truly sorrowful.
	And then his lips curled back into a smile. “Don't worry about me, Leo. I aint all that important.”
	“That's not true.... I think you're really important. You're one of the only people who talks to me. And you've been really ni-”
	“-Leo.” He cut me off and shook his head. “Don't. It won't help. It'll just make it all... so much worse.”
	I opened my lips to respond, but no words came out.
	“But... thank you for trying. It's nice to have someone try now and then.” His voice got quiet with these last few words. “Go in and get some sleep.”
	“I.... Okay. I'm... sorry I couldn't be a better friend.”
	He snorted and shook his head again. “Don't worry. You were a good friend. You helped. But sometimes... I just gotta be alone.”
	“Okay,” I forced a smile. “Don't stay up too late.”
	“You're one to talk.”
	I walked away. He looked like he was feigning his expression, to make me think he was in a better mood than he was. Something only somebody who was truly miserable would do.
	When I returned inside I went straight to my bed and lied down. The pangs of hunger echoed in my stomach, and I wondered if I'd even be able to fall back asleep.
	The moment my head hit the pillow, I drifted into sleep and didn't wake up until morning.

Chapter Thirteen

	My eyes traversed the page with a ferocity far beyond my ability to actually process words. I ended up reading the same sentences twice, three times, as many times as it took, sometimes still needing to go back and reread paragraphs that I'd already reread about a million times thus far. I just couldn't focus. Today was the day Joseph had promised to take me town.
	And by [i]Gaol [/i]was I excited.
	That morning I'd confirmed it. I'd jaunted up to him, probably looking dumb with happiness, and I'd asked if he still planned on keeping his promise. I'd phrased it more as a command, guiding my tone with a force that told him if he redacted the offer, I'd assault him with guilt. He did confirm it, though, with a frown and a reluctance to look me in the eyes for any length of time—but still, he [i]confirmed it.[/i]
	“Leo,” he suddenly called out, without looking up at me. “Is there something you'd like to say?”
	“N-No.... Why do you ask?”
	“'Cause you keep looking down at me, yeah?”
	I blushed and quickly looked away from him. “O-Oh! Sorry.... It's just....” I turned to face him again, squirming uncomfortably in the hard wood of my tree reading spot. “When can we go?”
	“Soon. Let me finish my training first, yeah?”
	“Yeah, but you keep saying 'soon' and it's taking [i]foreeeeeever.”[/i]
	He looked up at me crookedly. “...It's not even noon yet.”
	“B-But, it's the birds, too. They won't leave me alone....”
	“Hit them if they get too close. That'll teach 'em real fast like to keep to themselves, yeah?”
	“No!” I cried. “I'm not going to hit them. They're birds!”
	“So what if they're birds? They kinda have it coming, don't they?”
	“How can a bird 'have it coming...?'” I frowned.
	“Look. Hit 'em, don't hit 'em, it's all the same to-”
	“-Damn it!”
	As if lying in wait for the perfect moment, a bird swooped down in front of me, like it were trying to strike my leg with its beak. I swatted the air in front of me, being sure not to swat too close to the weakly built creature, but they required little incentive to fly back up into the higher parts of the trees, where they could squawk and gawk and tease me in safety.
	Joseph sighed loudly and returned to striking a tree—doing what he called 'bone training, yeah?'
	I stared up into the trees, watching the winged menaces hop around, clearly mocking me in their strange bird language. I growled.
	“Stupid birds....” I returned to my book, but things went just as poorly as before. Every time time I lost even a part of myself in the words, a bird would swoop down, sometimes more than one. Sometimes they'd even go up and down a few times, and I'd become more aggressive with the swatting, but they always fled shortly after, always to the tree tops to mock me further.
	“[i]Joseph,”[/i] I whined. “When can we go?”
	He sighed again, this time even louder. “[i]Soon, [/i]Leo. Soon.”
	I frowned and returned to my book once again. “Gaol,” I muttered, “give me the patience to-OW!”
	I whipped my tail upward to hold it in my hands, but the branch blocked all but the tip from reaching me. I shifted positions, pulling my tail from its dangling spot between the two branches which held me in the air.
	“Ow, ow, ow!” I rubbed it, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
	“What happened?” Joseph looked up at me. His annoyance was gone, but his voice lacked concern.
	“I think a bird pecked my tail!”
	His lips curled up in a weird way, and then a moment later, he burst out laughing.
	“It's not funny!” My jaw quivered. “Stop laughing!”
	“It's pretty funny, yeah?”
	“No, it's not! It hurts....”
	“'A bird pecked my tail,'” he repeated. “You can't tell me that isn't at least a [i]little [/i]funny, yeah?”
	I sniffed. “It's not....”
	“Aww, come on. Stop crying. It didn't hurt that bad, did it?”
	“It did.... And you don't have to laugh about it!”
	“Hey, hey, come on, now,” he said, still smiling. “I'm sorry for laughing, yeah? But seriously, it was funny. You should laugh too, yeah? I wasn't making fun of you or anything.”
	“I don't want to laugh.” I sniffed again.
	He sighed and shook his head. “Alright, alright, get out of the tree, you big baby. I''ll take you to town now.”
	“R-Really?” My face brightened. “And I'm not a baby.”
	“You totally are, yeah?”
	I frowned.
	“You are. Anyway, hurry up and get down here. We don't have all day, yeah?”
	The fact he was now rushing me had to be the most irritating part of the many irritating things that had happened in the last minute. It didn't matter, though. I couldn't think of one clever or witty thing to say, because the only word that mattered now was the only word still traveling through my head:
	[i]Town.[/i]
	I followed Joseph out of the woods, but he took a path I'd never seen before. A path opposite the one that led to the waterfall. I soon discovered this 'path' was really just thick, untrodden brush.
	“You've walked-” A renegade twig poked my cheek. I broke it and tossed it to the ground. “You've walked this before, right?”
	“Yeah, a couple times. Once or twice, yeah?”
	“...You mean since I got to West-End?”
	“No, I mean total.” A moment of silence passed. “I don't go to town much, yeah?”
	“Yes, I can tell.” I forced my way through a flurry of sticks and greenery that Joseph had practically danced through. The ground still looked untrodden, even though he'd [i]just [/i]trodden on it. I frowned, perplexed at how someone could be so nimble.
	“Don't worry,” he assured me. “It's a little thick, yeah? But it'll save us some time.”
	“Is it worth it...?” I asked, wrestling with a patch of vines that had nearly tripped me. “Wouldn't it be easier to just take the dirt road?”
	“It is.” He hopped over a log, like he were bragging about all the energy he had to spare. “Trust me, I'm doing this for you, yeah? We could walk back to West-End and take the road, but that would bring us way out of the way. This way is quicker, since we're already much closer to town than West-End. And trust me, town is a far walk, yeah? That road is made for wagons.”
	“But don't a lot of the other kids go to town almost everyday?”
	“Yeah, but you get used to it after awhile. You make the walk enough times and you'll forget you're even doing it, yeah?”
	His explanation made sense, but that didn't help with the line of thorns that had lodged themselves into my robe.
	It took awhile, but we eventually emerged from the woods, on to the one road that connected West-End to the rest of the world. Joseph insisted that the 'short-cut' had been worthwhile, but I continued picking off the small, thorny things that stuck to every bit of fabric and fur they came into contact with. I didn't mind the ones that stuck to my robe so much, but I could have done without the fur ones.
[i]	[/i]We traversed down the road for some time. A very long some time. At least 20 ems had gone by before I thought to inquire about this 'far walk.'
	“Are we almost there?” I asked, the hot sun baring down, feeling as if the hotter my fur got, the heavier it was to carry.
	“Yeah, we're like, halfway there, yeah?”
	My jaw dropped. “We're... only halfway there?”
	“I told you it was a long walk, yeah?”
	“Yeah, you said far. You didn't say... this.”
	“'This.'” He repeated flatly.
	“Ughhhh. We've been walking for almost a lot now; we [i]have[/i] to be closer than halfway.”
	“I don't know. Maybe we're a little closer. Might... be a little further too, yeah? I'm no map maker.”
	I sighed and looked down at my aching thighs. Now I knew why Joseph had been dreading the town visit, and why he'd opted to trudge through the thick, foresty growth, rather than detour to West-End.
	“Regret this yet?”
	“No,” I answered sternly. “I don't regret this at all. This will be completely worth it.”
	His lips curled in a weird way and his eyebrows furled the slightest amount, but he turned back before I had a chance to read his expression properly.
	He muttered something under his breath.
	“What?”
	“Nothing.” He said. “Just thinking out loud, yeah?”
	We continued on, alternating between short spurts of speaking—mostly me complaining—and periods of hot, sweaty, silence. After another 20 or so ems, I spoke again, to ask a question that had been troubling me.
	“Joseph, how come this road is so long?”
	“...What do you mean?” He sounded slightly annoyed, likely expecting more complaints.
	“Why is it so long...? O-Or, how come West-End is so... far away from everything?”
	His walk slowed a bit, but resumed its normal pace a moment later. “Because West-End wasn't always an orphanage, yeah? I think they used it for something else awhile back. This area used to be... um... c-c-contes-zid[i].” [/i]
	“Contes-zid?”
	“Yeah, I heard it from Scott once. It means they fought over it, yeah?”
	“What did they fight over, though?”
	“The land. Like, they fought over the entire southern continent, yeah? The Republic against the Dominion.”
	“Uh, what are those?”
	Joseph laughed. “You've got a lot to learn, don't cha?” He ignored my frown and continued on. “The Republic is us. We're led by The Lord, or Lord Lam or something. I guess that's all I know about his name. I think the full thing is super long or something, but most people call him 'The Lord,' yeah? And then there is the Dominion, yeah? They are the westerners and they're ran by Augustus something or other. I can't really remember his full name, though; his is even worse than The Lord's.--Why do all these big political types always have big names anyway? Why not just have a [i]normal [/i]name.--Anyway, yeah, he runs the Dominion of the Augustus, but that's just what we call it over here, yeah? They claim it is the new Empire of Honorable Knights, knighting in the name of fire, or fire-lu or knights or something. It doesn't really matter what they claim anyway, yeah? We call them the Dominion of the Augustus.”
	“Oh. I... guess that makes sense. B-But what's a republic? And a dominion?”
	He put a thoughtful finger on his chin. “Hmm. We're a republic, so, just, look around, yeah? What you see is what you get.”
	I frowned and glanced at the trees all around us. “What you see is what you-?”
	“-And a dominion is.... It's... I think it's like an empire, yeah? Except we call his a dominion because he is a dictator.”
	“A dictator?”
	“Yes, it's like a tyrant.”
	“A tyrant...?”
	“Y-Yes, h-he's a... a... just a really [i]bad [/i]leader... I guess. I don't really know, yeah? I'm just repeating what I heard from Scott. Anyway, no more politics, yeah? We're almost there.”
	'We're almost there' wasn't how I would have described the fifteen ems of walking that remained, but in any case, we did eventually arrive. When the silhouettes of the buildings began to crop up on the horizon, my heart began to race. My toes squirmed restlessly with each step forward and my tail started to flop around like a piece of string in the wind.
	Joseph looked back and smiled at me, but he furled his eyebrows at the last moment, and something about his expression struck me as sad.
	As we grew closer, I began to see people—yes, actual [i]people.[/i] Not just other orphans or the cart-driver that delivers food and supplies to West-End, but actual, associating people.
	Upon entering the bounds of town, I took in the sights of the buildings and packed streets and the stalls set up in the distance. I must have looked like an idiot, walking with mouth agape, barely able to keep up with Joseph who had slowed down considerably to let me gawk.
	The buildings were not much different from West-End in style, but it was the number of them that I found appalling. House after house, building after building. Even when I'd lived with Mom, we'd lived isolated, on the outskirts of a village that bought supplies from a town like this and resold or traded them to people like us.
	I'd gone to the village many times, but I'd never had an opportunity to go to town. I'd always dreamed about just embarking one day, about leaving and seeing where the world took me. Why couldn't I? Why couldn't I just walk there?
	But finally, after all that time, here I was. I was in town. A real, live, functioning, moving, breathing [i]town[/i].
	“C-Can we go to the market?”
	“To the market...?” Joseph asked.
	“Yeah, yeah! With the stalls and all the shops! I've always wanted to see a real one!”
	“S-Sure.”
	So Joseph led me to the market. The bright, bouncy, fun market filled with all the interesting people and all the amazing stalls. Lined with the shops and windows showing off all sorts of amazing merchandise owned by individuals who'd achieved a respectable level of success.
	I went from stall to stall at first, doing everything I could to keep at a pace Joseph could catch up to, but when my eyes spotted the bookshelf halfway down the busiest street in town, I moved straight for it, as if propelled by some invisible force.
	I stopped at the window and peered inside. It didn't have anything on display like the other shops, but I could see shelves upon shelves, each filled from one end to the other, from top to bottom. The fun, bouncy book store filled with lots of amazing books.
	“C-Can we go in?” I asked Joseph, trying to contain my overflowing excitement.
	“Uh...” He grimaced and balled his hands into fists. “Yeah. Let's...go inside.”
	Without another word I darted for the door. The room stank heavily of old pages and unwiped furniture, a scent strongly reminiscent of West-End. The shopkeeper looked back at me with a crooked brow when I waved to him.
	The amount of books appalled me, as I'd never before seen so many in one place. The bookcases were taller than I was, and they reached up to the ceilings, each of them packed full of different books, all of different genres.
	My eyes scanned aisles, searching the many spines, each showing me a door to a different world. I reached for one and picked it up. I flipped through the pages and let my eyes scan the back summary.
	“Hey,” A gruff voice called from the front of the store. I looked up and found the shop keeper looking back at me. An old man with what looked like a permanent scowl sitting heavily across his lips peeked around and went back and forth between Joseph and I. He spoke deliberately, putting slight bits of emphasis on the more offensive words he spoke: “You yarbage gonna buy something or what? Get on with it, I'm not tryin' to get robbed by some furry little ruffians.”
	My smile slipped away as my eyes locked with the shopkeeper's. My muscles tightened with sudden anxiety. I looked over at Joseph in confusion, but his head was down, his eyelids heavy, his eyes aimed toward the floor. Before I could defend myself, still unsure of why I needed defending at all, the man went on, blessing me with the light of insight.
	“What are you looking at, yarbage?” He croaked. “You Koshy even got a damn purse? Somethin' to carry all the money that you pickpocket?” He snorted. “Why don't you just get out of here, you little imps, 'for I call the guard?”
	Joseph grabbed my wrist (one of the few times he'd ever touched me) and wordlessly led me to the door. He positioned himself behind me and gently pushed me out, following close behind. I followed his lead, doing my best to walk the way he directed me, though confusion, mystification, and a series of other similar emotions all left me feeling disheveled, like my entire mind were a giant spot of uncombed fur. Suddenly, in this fun, bouncy wonderland of amazing things, everything felt wrong, and I suddenly felt very homesick and scared.
	“The balls on these two!” The man barked, suddenly sounding a lot angrier. “A couple of Koshy's walking around like freedom grows in a wasteland. Go back to your own little hole and put on some shackles little Koshy and stop comin' here and stealin' from the good brothers and sisters that-” The door closed behind us. Thankfully, the man seemed content being his own audience and did not follow behind.
	Joseph led me a bit away from the store. As we walked, I threw some furtive glances back, almost as if I expected something insightful to be waiting by the bookshop door, but all I found were more people rushing to and fro, a suspicious amount of them throwing their own furtive glances in our direction.
	We pulled into a small alley just outside of the market street. Joseph stood next to me against a wall, staring straight ahead. His chest heaved more than it should have after a few moments of heated steps, and his ears sat flattened.
	“J-Joseph...?”	
	“I'm sorry,” he began. “I'm sorry you had to see that... yeah?”
	“Wh-Wh-What h-happened? W-Why did he... say that? What did I [i]do[/i]?”
	“You did the one thing you weren't supposed to do.” He looked down at me. “Exist.”
	I cocked my head to the side, and Joseph grimaced, as if something had suddenly brought him great discomfort.
	“E-Exist?” I asked.
	“Yes. He... didn't think we had any money. Thought we were just in there to look around. Thought we were loitering, or were maybe gonna steal from him.... So he kicked us out, yeah?”
	“But I... I thought it was okay to look inside of stores...? I d-didn't... I didn't-!”
	“-No, no, Leo, Leo, it's not your fault. Please, [i]please [/i]don't cry. Not now. Not here.” He looked past me, out into the street. “You're allowed to look in shops. Um, not... you, I mean, not us, yeah? But most people. It's usually okay....”
	“Then why couldn't we?”
	“B-Because... we're Fen, yeah? And because we're orphans, too. He thought we were gonna steal from him, 'cause that's what orphans do—and I know, I know, not us, but it's what people like Blon and Ant do, and plenty of worse stuff than that—and he also thought it 'cause we're Fen. And... apparently that's what [i]we [/i]do.” Joseph looked away from me, his expression a mixture of sadness and bitterness. “Or so they say, yeah?”
	“So he kicked us out because we're... poor orphans, and... because we're Fen?”
	“Yes. You heard what he said, yeah? Do we have any money? Anything to even carry our money in? He called us Koshy, yeah? [i]Koshy[/i].” He repeated with bitterness.
	“What's Koshy?”
	“Koshy is a mean word for Fen, yeah? I'm surprised you haven't heard it from Blon, but... um... I guess he's been trying out some new ones lately.”
	“Koshy... So... we're Koshy?”
	“No!” He hit the wall with the side of his fist. “We are not! Never say that! Never ever say that!”
	“S-Sorry! I'm sorry!” I jumped backwards, terrified.
	He pulled back with a look of surprise. “Sorry.... I... I didn't mean....” He paused and stared blankly at the ground for a few moments. He turned around and began pacing back and forth. “You're right, though.” He went on, as if his outburst had never happened. “They call us that, but... we're not actually... that, yeah?”
[i]	[/i]“...What about the rest of town? Is it... just the market? Because of the theft? Or is it everywhere?”
	“The market is the worst, yeah?” He continued to pace. “They hate it when we go to the market. It's best we do it quick if we ever need something, yeah? But the rest of town is about just as hostile. You can get away with some of the poorer areas, since some Fen live there, but then you gotta deal with...other things.”
	“...Other things?”
	“Yes, there is violence there, yeah? Imagine that shopkeeper except poor and angry. Eh, angrier. And some of the violence isn't just the Fair, but there are Fen there that will hurt you too. Rob and steal from you. Sometimes even canines, yeah? But they're rare. But it can be dangerous there. It's just West-End when you get too old to be at West-End—or it's where you go when you get fed up and leave.”
	I stared down at the brick alleyway, my stomach lurching with nausea. Fun, bouncy, nausea.
	“I guess...” Joseph continued. “I guess most of town isn't that bad. The market is the worst place for us, and then the poor area is the worst for... pretty much everyone, yeah? But the rest is usually just staring. Sometimes people will try to start something with you or call you names, especially if you're free, but you can normally avoid it by ignoring them, yeah?”
	“...Free? You mean...?”
	“Yeah,” he replied sullenly. “Yeah. You didn't see any? Any of the slaves?”
	I thought back on the question. “N-No, I... I didn't see any Fen at all.”
	“There aren't a lot of them. Most of the free ones have left for the Central Republic where there are more jobs, or they went up north to work the plains. Most of the ones left are slaves, y-yeah?”
	We stood there in silence for a few moments. Joseph had paused his pacing to answer the questions about the slaves, but started walking again after falling silent.
	“...Should we just go then?” My voice wavered as I spoke.
	“We could walk around a little more if you want. Through the less busy parts of the town, with the dirt roads mainly. There isn't much to see and there is a lot of staring, but...”
	“No... No, it's okay. I think I'd rather just... leave.” This statement was as honest as it was a lie. I had little desire to see anymore fun, bouncy townsfolk or their racist shops and enslaved peoples, but that fact didn't make the idea of returning to West-End any more palpable. In fact, thinking about it only worsened my nausea.
	“Okay,” he answered. “That's probably for the best, yeah?” I was staring at the ground, tears in my eyes, but I could feel Joseph watching me. We stood like this for several moments, long enough for it to feel awkward and sudden when he spoke again.
	“I'm sorry,” he said, nearly whispering. “This is my fault.”
	“I-It's not your fault.” I looked up and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You can't control-”
	“-No.... Don't.” He closed his eyes and turned away. “I'm sorry. Let's just go, y-yeah?”
	Suddenly, he sounded as if he wanted to cry, too. Why his grief peaked now of all times was beyond me, but I had learned awhile ago that trying to understand Joseph was about the only thing more difficult than trying to get him to remove his shirt.
	He led the way out of the alley and then toward the exit of town. Just as before—though only now did I notice the eyes turned to meet us, most of them glaring, making little effort to hide their disgust.
	I kept my head down and looked up only when I had to. Most of the time I kept my eyes on his feet, following grimly behind. At one point, however, my head rose, and my eyes caught something dark and furry a bit up in front of us.
	The moment my eyes connected with his malnourished, half-naked body, I found myself unable to look away. He stood behind a man in an expensive suit—dark red, trimmed white, covered in as many gold colored buttons and pins and ornamentations as space would allow—who seemed to be performing some kind of negotiation with a shop owner.
	The half-naked Fen's muscles had a certain tightness too them. A sort of strength and struggling desire to grow, yet a size and meekness that betrayed this man's poor health. The strange, unnatural leanness of his curves made me sick.
	I met his eyes and found them squinted, lifeless, and bloodshot, staring straight ahead. His eyelids were heavy. Black bags sat puffy and red underneath his eyes, visible despite the thinning black and white fur that covered him.
	He turned his head to face us and locked eyes with me. His expression did not change, nor did he struggle to utter a word. He showed no sign of wanting to move, beyond the minor motion of turning his head, and he conveyed no jealousy, though I highly suspected he felt it.
	He kept his weary eyes locked with mine, and I lacked the courage to look away from his troubling, leering visage. As we passed, his eyes traveled down my body and stopped at my tail. My fear had been so great that my tail had curled into the submissive position--pulled back in the shape of a half circle, extending down between my legs. It shook lightly at the tip.
	Normally, this was an embarrassing pose for a Fen to assume, but in the moment, it felt appropriate. I didn't know why the thought occurred to me, but I wondered if seeing me like that, seeing me so shocked, shocked by something that didn't seem to be rare or unusual to anybody else around, if seeing my reaction had brought him some kind of peace or pleasure. I wondered if it was a good thing to feel pleasure from another person's discomfort. If it was a good thing to suffer displeasure for another person's relief.
	I sniffed, and Joseph looked back.
	“Are you crying?”
	I nodded, my jaw quivering as I struggled to hold back impending sobs.
	His mouth opened, I imagine to ask me why, but he looked past me and his jaw closed a second later. He turned back around, an empty expression on his face, a solemnity hidden in the nuances. He grabbed my wrist again as we walked.
	Feeling Joseph hold my hand—or, at the very least, my wrist—brought me more peace than I can hope to ever translate to words. It's only when you've been alone for a month, when you are exhausted from physical exertion, exhausted from mental agony, and when you are cursed with more negative truths in a quarter of an hour than you think should be dispersed in a lifetime, that you can understand the intense relief that comes from the subtle gesture. From the sudden physical contact with the only person in the world you are apt to trust.
	As we walked, I wrestled with my ethical questions about showing displeasure for the pleasure of others, and I prayed. Prayed relentlessly. For myself, for Joseph, for that enslaved Fen, for Mrs. Shire, and for the kids at West-End, and even for that mean old man who had hated us. I knew better than to just pray for one thing. How could I when it seemed everything itself was the problem?

Chapter Fourteen

	I'd pictured this moment many times. Joseph and I leaving town, smiles on our faces, my head looking back with longing at the place I'd grown to adore beyond words. Longing, a desperation to return, to escape the YOI known as West-End. But now, now that the dream had become a reality, I saw how greatly my expectations and reality could differ.
	Our heads were cast down, out of both woe and from an attempt to escape the searing rays of the sun. We trudged, very nearly dragging our exhausted feet through the dirt, and our lips curled down in sagging frowns. Our heads did not dare look back at that place—not a single time, not for a single moment.
	But I reflected on that image, on that thought of Joseph and I looking back at the town in longing. I wondered why I should fantasize about an emotion such as longing. To think of it is one thing, as thoughts seem to come and go as if they had minds of their own--but to fantasize about it? To actively desire that state? That place among all the other possibilities and fantasies?
	I could have imagined myself content or happy or utterly exuberant. I could have pictured myself living in town. Ruling over town. Being a king, a monk, or even a god. Yet what I chose was to long. In that brief period of time, my mind chose desire over satisfaction. It chose to think of longing rather than happiness.
	It seemed like madness to put to words, but in the form of thoughts, in the stream of the mind still unburdened by the bane of labels and preconceptions, it felt like desire, satisfaction, happiness, and longing were all different ways to say the same thing, to drive to the same point, yet a passion held deep in my gut screamed at me that they were all different, to the degree that they could not all be held together, and that to believe otherwise was to be deceived. But, deceived by what?
	This final question faded away, leaving only apathy. A hovering sense of pointlessness.
	Maybe, I thought, the answer to my question was hidden somewhere in this feeling that had come seemingly out of nowhere, this sense of [i]emptiness,[/i] but I was too tired to probe deeper. Too tired to cared. Too ready to return to West-End and begin suffering anew.
	[i]Ready to suffer all over again.... [/i]I thought listlessly.
	“Fancy runnin' into you here!”
	Joseph and I turned around. Approaching us at a jogging pace was Blon, Ant, and Lucky.
	I looked toward Joseph, to read his expression, to know how to feel. His eyes had widened a bit, partially in surprise, but there was another sensation there, a sort of alertness.
	“Small, small, [i]small [/i]world,” Blon said with a smile. “Never thought I'd see you comin' from town, Joseph. You know,” he leaned forward, and spoke like he were sharing a secret. “There are some people who don't like the Ploko all too much, you might wanna think about-”
	“-Yeah, whatever.” Joseph cut him off and turned his head away.
	Ant cackled like a maniac.
	“E-Excuse me?” Blon said with a crooked look.
	“I said go away.” Joseph responded, his head still turned.
	“I think he's serious!” Ant said between breaths. “He's actually serious!”
	Blon's jaw set and his face went deathly serious, looking strained and angry at all corners. “Listen,” he spit a bit in Josephs's face with the word, and then pulled away. “I was just saying it for the little kid's sake, you selfish idiot.”
	[i]What?[/i] [i]For my sake?[/i]
[i]	[/i]Joseph turned to face him, his eyes as wide as they had been before, but now all the surprise was gone.
	“Yeah, I'm talkin' about your lil' furry boyfriend over here, cock-breath. What? What? Something wrong you backdoor Ploko? Did I say something to [i]offend [/i]you?”
	Joseph's jaw shifted around in his mouth and his eyes gleamed.
	My heart pounded heavily in my chest. Blon's lips were curled in an uncharacteristic frown, and his hands were balled into fists.
	[i]Of all the days, [/i]I thought. [i]Of all the days for both of them to be in horrible moods....[/i]
	“Are you mad about something? Maybe that I pointed out your lil' gay relationship with the lil' Koshy thing over there? You gross piece of dirt you think I don't know?”
	Joseph's expression slowly turned to one of confusion. Ant's expression shimmered with amusement.
	“Good Gaol.” Blon said with feigned shock. “A pedophile and a gay. What a shame it would be if I was [i]forced [/i]by my better senses to tell everybody back at West-End the truth. The gross, disgusting truth!”
	It was hard to say exactly when the transition occurred, but at some point, Joseph had gone from his alert, 'ready' expression, to looking like somebody had punched him directly in the chest. His mouth hung open, and his eyes gleamed in the sunlight. His chest pushed out from a deep breath he'd been holding in for some time, and he took in a sharp breath. Beyond the shock, there was something akin to terror in his expression now. The sort that drives a man to look to stare at the object of his horror with unflinching confidence and focus.
	“Yeah, yeah,” Blond went on. “Quite the situ-”
	“-Sh-Shut up!” I yelled. “Just shut up already!”
	Blon looked over at me with wide eyes. “Well.” He said with a pause. “The midget can speak. Boys, it is a miracle. I've cured a mute! Praise be to Gaol!”
	“Shut. UP!” I screamed. “If anybody's gay here, it's you!”
	Blon's sardonic expression melted away.
	Ant burst out laughing, so hard that he immediately collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath.
	Blon looked at me as if he saw a ghost. A ghost he severely disliked and possibly wanted to exorcise.
	“...Gaol is real boys! Gaol is real! Because only Gaol could create some sick nonsense like this!” Ant exclaimed in high humor.
	“Shut up.” Blon barked back. He turned to me with a forced smile. “I'm sure you already know I can't let that go without punishment, right?”
	I had thought no moment could surpass the sheer terror and exhilaration of the instant after I'd yelled my curse, but Blon's sudden approach proved me wrong. I stood locked to the spot, looking up at him as if he were death manifest come to take me away.
	I remember a series of words going through my mind.
	[i]Joseph[/i]
[i]	No[/i]
[i]	Please[/i]
[i]	Gaol[/i]
[i]	[/i]But no sentences. No phrases or any real meaning. Just words. Words without any importance. How could anything have importance when I was moments away from being thrashed?
	Blon came so close to me I could smell the rot of his breath. I took an instinctive step back, and as my body moved, his hand went forward and slapped me in the face with one quick, hard motion, more like an open-handed punch than a slap.
	“You think it's funny to-”
	And then I saw Joseph from the corner of my eyes. I was too afraid to look over at him, and even if I hadn't been, what happened next happened so quickly I'm not sure I could have caught it. Joseph launched forward like a wolf onto a rabbit, with a speed only he could manage on two legs, and he struck Blon right in the side of the head.
	Blon fell to the ground like a stone. His limpness lasted just long enough for me to wonder if he'd gone unconscious, but he started scrambling to his feet a moment later.
	Ant laughed even louder--if such a thing were possible.
	[i]Is this possible? [/i]Those words traveled through my head, but I wasn't sure what I was questioning the possibility of. Maybe it was Joseph's attack. Maybe it was that Blon's friend had actually laughed watching his friend get punched in the head. Maybe it was something impossible to put into words.
	“Oh you are gonna [i]regret [/i]that you[i] yarbage scum![/i]” Blon screeched, one hand on his head.
	Joseph stood there, his chest heaving, his fists trembling. His tense expression told me little about how he was feeling, about how he felt, but his pursed lips made it seem as though he planned on carrying out this fight to completion.
	The moment Joseph steadied himself and persed those serious, fighter's lips, Ant walked up from the side; so quickly and with such long strides from his freakishly long legs that I didn't even have time to warn Joseph he was coming. Before I could utter a word, the smiling giant kicked Joseph in the back of the knee.
	Joseph's leg gave out like it was nothing, and he emitted a high-pitched, boyish, almost feminine sounding cry. That sound penetrated me to the core, reminding me very suddenly of the reality of the situation.
	Joseph's head hit the ground and Ant put his foot forcibly against Joseph's neck, a smile still on his crooked lips. Joseph looked frazzled from the impact, but he recovered quickly. He pawed helplessly at Ant's ankles, but whenever he tried to punch or scratch—with the bloody stubs that were once claws—Ant pressed down harder.
	“Stupid, dirty, Koshy, Ploko scum!” Blon said rubbing the side of his head. He meandered over and sat down on Joseph's belly, and then began punching him in the cheeks, switching fists after every hit.
	I yelped with the first noise, and flinched with the subsequent ones, until my body became so tense I could no longer react.
	After a few punches, Blon began to slap him and yell. “What? What's wrong? You want to hit me again? You want to hit me, eh? You want to hit me, yeah? Yeah? Yeah?? [i]Yeah?!”[/i]
[i]	[/i]He slapped him with every yeah, hitting him like how he'd hit me, more like a punch than a slap, but with far more force.
	“You are a stupid idiot who just [i]will... not... learn...his...place![/i]
	Ant laughed out loud again.
	“Aw, look Ant, he's crying. The stupid Ploko is crying. I guess he is a [i]baby [/i]too!” He slapped him again. He paused, and then looked up. “Hey, what's wrong, Lucky? Don't you wanna get a few hits in?”
	I looked over at Lucky and suddenly remembered he was still there.
	“No, no, I'm good.”
	“...You sure?” Blon asked with more than a little force. “You're not a bitch, are you?”
	“N-No, No, nothin' like that. I'm just good. Don't wanna get my hands dirty or get any blood on my clothes....”	
	“Ugh!” Blon turned away. “Bitch. Speaking of bitches.... Don't you [i]ever... [/i]put your [i]dirty... Kosky... stubs ...o[/i]n me [i]again![/i]” With the last smack, Blon brought his hand back and hit Joseph as hard as he could, this time eliciting the snapping sound I associated with slaps.
	Blon got up and Ant removed his foot from Joseph's neck.
	Joseph lurched forward, coughing harder than I'd ever seen a person cough. In his struggle for air, he turned to his side and started to dry-heave. He alternated between these things for awhile until the dry-heaving stopped, and then eventually the coughing. His fingers slipped around his sore neck and he fell back on his back, spittle running down his lips into the dirt, tears in his bloodshot eyes.
	Thankfully, the three ignored me and left—all except Lucky, who shot me a wide-eyed expression that meant Gaol-knows-what before catching up to the other two. I rushed over to Joseph's side and sat there, behind him, rubbing him on his shoulder. I expected him to push me away, but he just lied there silently, his eyes closed, the tears on his cheeks glimmering in the bright light of the sun.
	And then his eyes opened.  He sat up, a look that had seemed terribly pained a moment ago suddenly looking foul.
	“Come on,” he said. “Let's go.”
	“...Are you okay?”
	“I'm [i]fine.[/i]” He started walking without looking back. “Let's just get out of here.”
	“O-Oh. Okay.”
	I followed him, each step in the hot sun taking an unreasonable effort. He limped a bit whenever he put pressure on the leg Ant kicked.
	There was a lot I wanted to say, a lot I wanted to ask him about, but I was too afraid to speak.
	The force he'd used to tell he was fine, the lethargic yet deliberate way he willed his body forward. He made me think of a man risen from the dead with some powerful intent. But what 'intent' could he possibly have?
	Revenge seemed impossible. Escape seemed as unfathomable as it was pointless. Rushing back to West-End seemed like a bird trying to escape a storm by flying into a cactus.
	Then again, maybe the cactus was just what Joseph wanted. The familiar sting of [i]home.[/i]
	I did my best to reflect on this as we walked, but the heat and the exhaustion and the pain and the depression and the hopelessness and every other poor and bitter thing I could use to describe my destitute conundrum culminated and left me feeling as if I were walking through a desert. As if I were a bird too, seeking my cactus nest.
	[i]One step after another. One foot in front of the other. Just do what Mrs. Shire told you... Just think about her.[/i]
	One day I'd be free from this hellish prison. I'd be rich, and successful, and I wouldn't become like Ant or Blon or even Lucky. I'd be in a position where I could finally help Joseph, pay him back for all he'd done for me, and I'd meet up with Mrs. Shire again and show her all the good I'd done in my life and for other people.
	I brought my head up and looked at Joseph. “Why do things have to be like this?” I asked suddenly
	“I don't know,” He answered bruskly.
	I spread my lips, as if I planned on saying more, but the words did not come.
	When we got closer to West-End, to the point where Joseph's improvised trail had let us out, he came to a stop.
	“Go back.” He said without looking at me.
	“Huh?”
	“Go back to West-End. I'll catch up later.” He moved toward where I assumed the trail opening was, his limp now completely faded away.
	“B-But w-wait... where are you going? Why can't I co-?”
	“-Just go back, yeah?” He answered harshly, but after a pause continued softly. “I just need to be alone for a little awhile.”
	I looked down the trail, West-End still out of sight. I wondered which would be worse: the walking alone, or the arriving alone.
	I swallowed. “O-Okay. I'll go alone...” I nearly whispered.
	Without another word he disappeared into the woods.
	I continued down the path, alone, my steps even slower than they had been before. Every few moments I stopped and turned around. My eyes went straight to the spot Joseph had disappeared, and when I got too far to see it any longer, my eyes still went to where I thought it was.
	[i]I can't, [/i]I said repeatedly. [i]I could get lost.[/i]
	I took a few more steps and stopped. I bit down on my lower lip.
	[i]Come on, stop being such a coward. He got beat up defending you; let him have his privacy... at least for a bit. You can't have him all the time. What would you do if something happened to him? Would you just lie there and die?[/i]
[i]	[/i]Without answering that question, I took a few more steps forward, but again, I stopped. I grinded my teeth together.
	[i]Damn it! [/i]I whipped around, facing the edge of the path. [i]If I go back now, would I recognize it? I didn't recognize it on the way back from town, but surely I would this time...? I have to. I [/i]have [i]to. I can't leave him alone like this.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Each step in the opposite direction filled me with a new emotion. At first, confusion, a question as to why and how I would dare distance myself further from my bed. My legs seemed to be the ones asking.
	And then there was the question of my motivations. Is it because I am a coward? Or do I do it for Joseph? Out of a desire to not leave him alone? Or could it be both? This question came from deep in my chest.
	And then there was a question that seemed to come from all points of my body, as well as from a place beyond which I could not pinpoint or truly fathom. Could I get lost? What would I do then? What would I do if I couldn't find him?
	I entered the woods, right where Joseph had. I [i]did [/i]recognize the spot, but I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
	The brush was just as thick as it had been the first time, except now, without Joseph to warn me about thick or spiny spots, or tree logs felled on the ground and covered in weeds, the going was much tougher. And then there was that lingering sensation which I kept as far behind me as I could. The feeling of immensity I'd felt once before when left alone in the woods. The feeling that it was encroaching in upon me, consuming me....
	I did my best to not think about it, to not give it even a single foothold in my mind. I knew the moment I let it occupy my thoughts, I'd panic, and I had no idea what would happen then. I just had to take one foot after another, to keep going, to pray I stayed on his tentative path, to pray Joseph eventually came into sight.
	And then, like a bright light on a dark night, I saw him, glimmering and gleaming in this voracious atmosphere of hidden hives and hard angles. My heart heaved as if I were a shudder away from sobbing, and my feet, pained and exhausted, moved quicker, quicker than my mind could spot pitfalls, making it so I could only hope I did not trip.
	It took a moment for me to realize there was something wrong with the picture. Joseph was in his training spot, in the big circle where he'd cleared out the leaves. He was on his hands and knees, his face toward the dirt. I slowed my pace, not wanting to be discovered immediately, but he heard me and looked over, eyes wide, alert and angry.
	“Leo?” He asked, moving his head around and sitting up on his knees. “Is that you? That's you, yeah?”
	I tentatively emerged from the final bush separating us.
	“Oh,” he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Gaol don't do that. You scared the hell out of me, yeah...?”
	“Sorry. I... I just didn't wanna leave you out here all alone.”	
	He shook his head and closed his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he chuckled. “Don't apologize. It's not your fault, yeah? I'm the one who left you. I... just didn't think about it, about how you were gonna have to walk back into West-End alone.”
	“I-It's okay! You don't have to be there for me all the time or anything.”
	Joseph grimaced. “I know I'm really messed up. And that I'm an idiot....”
	“...Huh?”
	“I know I'm really stupid and worthless, yeah? But I'm sorry. I shoulda known better then that. I just... I just needed some time, yeah? I needed a few minutes to just... put it all in order again, yeah?”
	“...What do you mean?” I moved toward him and then stopped mid-step. “J-Joseph...?”
	He didn't respond.
	“...Why is there blood on the tree?” The tree he used for 'bone training' had a small red circle, part of it seeping down like oil.
	He remained silent. I swallowed and spoke again:
	“...Why is there blood on the tr-?”
	“-Why [i]wouldn't[/i] there be blood on the tree?[i]” [/i]He hissed, suddenly sounding enraged.
	“What...?” I took a step back in fear and surprise. “W-W-Why's your lip bloody...? Blon didn't do that.... What're you doing out here?”
	“Don't act so surprised. I'm just doing what everybody else does. [i]Yeah?[/i]” His voice rose as he hissed the last word. “Just doing what everybody else does, Leo. Just doing what everybody else does, Leo. Just doing what everybody else does, Leo! Just doing what everybody else does just doing what everybody else just doing what everybody else [i]just doing what everybody else does! [/i]He punched the ground with his bloody fist with the last, and continued punching as he went on. “[i]Just, doing, what, every, body, else, doessssss!” [/i]
[i]	[/i]“J-Joseph!”
	Still on his hands and knees, he leaned down and pressed forward into the dirt between his fists. He groaned with pain and shuttered. Mud was now caked on his scraped up hands.
	I ran over and kneeled down next to him.
	“It doesn't matter, Leo.” His body seemed wobbly, and his voice was growing quieter. “You know that, yeah? That it doesn't matter? That nothing matters? That we're all gonna die?”
	“Why are you talking like this? We're not gonna die.” Tears formed in my eyes.
	“We're gonna die someday, yeah? And I hope it's soon. Oh, [i]Gaol [/i]I hope it's [i]sooooooon.[/i]” He body shuttered again. “I can't [i]take [/i]this anymore. I can't [i]take [/i]it. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it....”
	My lips pursed together and tears overflowed from my eyes. The only response I could give to this was a tight sob that forced it's way from my chest.
	“You're crying for me again.”
	Sobs forced their way out. I slipped down on to my knees and leaned against him. I reached out, paused for a second,--[i]can I? [/i]I thought--and then I went forward, laying myself against his side, wrapping both of my hands around him, one around the front, one around the back. “Please don't die....”
	He turned his head a bit.
	“P-Please don't die,” I went on. “Please. [i]Please.[/i] You c-can't....” I shook my head. “You can't, you can't, can't!” I hugged him tighter, the tears coming full force now, the words coming out between choked sobs. “I-I don't wanna be alone. I don't w-w-want y-you to die. I don't w-want you to ever die! Please!”
	“Leo,” he uttered, his voice quivering. “We all have to die, yeah? Isn't it a good thing?”
	“No!” I cried. “No, no, no! It's awful. It's awful. I don't [i]want [/i]you to die; I don't [i]want [/i]you[i] [/i]to be alone. I don't want to die; I don't want you to die; I don't want a-anyone to die e-ever, ever again!”
	“Gaol...” He chuckled. “You cry a lot, yeah?”
	I sobbed harder, my tears soaking the fur of his back. “P-Please d-don't die before me.” His body stiffened. “[i]Please [/i]don't leave me. Oh, Gaol, oh Gaol, oh Gaol, I'm scared. I'm really scared. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, Gaol....”
	He sat up and turned to face me, his eyes alert, pristine, and glaring into mine with such intensity I was momentarily taken aback.
	I looked back into his eyes, sniffling compulsively, my lips quivering uncontrollably. “I-I-I'm s-sorry...”
	Joseph extended his arms and I went forward, but I couldn't say which happened first. All I knew was that suddenly, my entire body was encompassed in warmth and the crippling hole in the core of my torso felt bearable. He held me tight against his chest, holding me up so I didn't collapse into the dirt like an infant.
	“I won't...” He whispered, chin hanging above my shoulder. I felt his chest press into mine as he took heavy breaths.
	I looked up.
	“...I won't die first.”
	“I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”
	“-Don't apologize.” He spoke with a stern tone. “I have no plans of going anywhere.” It was a tone I'd never heard from him in the past. A tone I'd never heard from anybody. “If you want, I'll stay alive forever.”
	“R-Really? F-F-Forever?”
	“Forever-ever.” He hugged me tighter. “And if I do die, I won't die before you, unless.... No. I just won't. I won't. I won't leave you.” He sounded like an adult; he sounded the way I'd always imagined a [i]real[/i] man would sound.
	I still clung to him, but I no longer felt afraid—not of the past, future, or of the present. For an instant, hearing his sudden, powerful tone, I felt an urge to cry more, but a moment later, it felt pointless. The desire to cry, along with the pain that fueled it, drained out of me like I'd been uncorked. So suddenly I felt silly for having cried in the first place.
	Sitting there in the middle of the woods, in the warm embrace of his arms, I felt at peace. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt like I was at home. I felt like I was safe. I felt like I was loved. I didn't have to worry about tomorrow or the day after that, because as long as I was there, tucked away in that glorious moment, tomorrow didn't exist.
	“Thank you....” I mumbled, my face buried in his fur.
	“No. Thank you.” He answered back. “You've done things I could never do...yeah?”
	I almost laughed.
	[i]...Yeah?[/i]
	After all of that. After his sounding like an adult, and speaking with that special kind of sternness that one simply cannot imitate, in the end, he was still the same old Joseph.
	But upon pulling free from the hug and looking in the eyes one more time, the look he returned to me made me wonder if he really was the same.
	We headed back to West-End a few minutes later. Trudging down Joseph's usual path felt easy in comparison to the dense one that led to the road, but the exhaustion in my limbs had intensified. Each step made my stomach warble with nausea and my thighs scream with pain. Even with all the dread that surrounded West-End, the only thought I could maintain for longer than a step was the thought of my bed and my body collapsing into it.
	When we arrived, we were greeted by the sight of one of the kids—one whom I could not name, but I recognized as a friend of Blon and Ant's--sitting outside smoking a stick. The moment he spotted us, he ran inside without a word. Strangely, he ran in with the stick in his mouth, presumably lit, something that I'd not seen anyone do since my arrival.
	Before we made it to the door, Daughtry emerged, his arms crossed, a frown on his face, and his greasy hair glimmering angrily in the sun.
	“Joseph,” he said sternly, making Joseph flinch.
	While approaching him, Joseph muttered for me to just go inside and said he'd meet me there. I looked at him with curiosity and a whole lot of concern, but he didn't look back, and I took that as a sign to do what he said and ask about it later.
	Joseph stepped before Daughtry and I tried to walk by, keeping my eyes awkwardly affixed to the ground.
	“And where do you think you're going, Leon?”
	I flinched, feeling a large swathe of confusing emotions all at once.
	“He didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who hit Blon...sir.”
	Daughtry looked me up and down and squinted his eyes. Then he spoke surprisingly softly. “Fine, then. I'll... deal with you later.”
	I glanced back at Joseph, expecting to find him with the same expression, for us to silently share in at least this one minor victory, but I found his eyes wide and lips agape, a look of true, horrifying dread on his face.
	I turned away immediately.
	My chest heaved, mostly from the intensity of my second conversation with Daughtry, but now heavier than before, because of that look Joseph had given me.
	[i]Why? [/i]I thought. [i]Why did he seem so horrified? I've never seen him look like that before.... Did he expect something different? Did he not want me to leave him alone? Did he have some sort of plan? Was I the one who'd ruined it?[/i]
[i]	[/i]Walking inside, I was surprised to find the normally empty hallway packed full of kids. I found Blon and Ant there, as well as the kid who'd ran inside, and even a few others who'd presumably come from the Bunker.
	I walked past the group of kids all eavesdropping behind the entrance door, trying to ignore the sneers and mocking smiles from Blon and Ant, and the curious looks from the others kids who could only ponder my involvement in it all.  
	And then I stopped.
	An instant after having passed the group, every eye shifted away from me, back to the door. The only people who could even tell I was there were the ones who'd turned their heads to the side to get their ears as close to the action as possible.
	So I stayed there, and even moved in a bit closer to the group and the door; although I didn't have to get close to hear. Daughtry's voice boomed, and none of the other kids dared utter a word, lest they miss a crucial part of the show.
	“What in the name of Fig Sol is wrong with you?” Daughtry began.
	[i]That name again. [/i]I thought. [i]Fig Sol.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“After everything I've done for you here. After everything that I've given you. All the sacrifices and the love and the work....” Daughtry sighed loudly. “It's disgusting. It's disgusting somebody like you could be so selfish. The last person in the world who has [i]any right [/i]to be selfish. But I'm the wrong one. Wrong for even [i]pretending[/i] to be surprised at this sort of behavior from you. Are you incapable of learning? Incapable of thought? Do you have even a drop of faith to you? How big of an idiot are you?”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“Shut up! I don't want to hear you speak unless you are [i]spoken to![/i]” He bellowed. “Now is it true? Do you admit to hitting Tobias on the side of the head? Did you hit my son you little barbarian?”
	[i]HIS SON????[/i]
	“...Yes, sir.”
	“Good. At least you can be honest. Now you realize this cannot go without punishment, correct?”
	“Y-Yes....”
	“Yes [i]what?!”[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Yes-sir.”
	“Good. Now what do you think that punishment's going to be?”
	“I-I d-don't know, si-”
	“-[i]I said.” [/i]Daughtry kneeled down, grabbed Joseph by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him within an inch of his face. “What do you think that punishment is going to be, boy?”
[i]	“[/i]I don't know.” Joseph's chin was pulled down against his chest, his voice was almost too low to hear now.
[i]	“[/i]Good.” Daughtry let him go and stood up. Then, in one swift motion, he backhanded Joseph across the face with enough force to send him flying to the ground. Joseph stayed on the ground, a hand over his cheek.
[i]	 [/i]My entire body jolted, almost with enough intensity to knock me to the ground.
	“Now get inside you ungrateful worm. And if you ever lay another hand on my boy again, I promise you you'll regret it.”
	Daughtry then turned around and walked inside, extending no effort whatsoever to verify if Joseph was okay or not. As he walked past me, he glanced at the other kids, not in surprise that they would eavesdrop, but with the casual concern taken to avoid bumping into them.
	Upon reaching me, his eyes met mine and he did not look away until he passed, and then, he did not look back. I suspected that, whatever this was, it was not over.
	“That's what you get, Koshy! Learn your place.” Blon yelled out of the door before turning around and following the rest of the kids to the Bunker. He smiled at me as he passed.
	My hands balled into fists.
	[i]I wonder how bad it would be if [/i]I [i]were to punch him in the side of the head....[/i]
[i]	[/i]And then I walked outside. Joseph was picking himself up off the ground. He still had the stern expression he'd had when we'd left the woods, but now his eyes were wider and he was breathing quicker.
	The fervency worried me because he'd only just calmed down, and I wasn't sure what to expect from him.
	“He's a real bastard,” he said.
	“I... I didn't know he was so awful.”
	“Of course you wouldn't know that. It's not like you ever see him, yeah? I love the parts about all the love and sacrifice. Like the government doesn't pay for all this....” Joseph's expression sank and he went quiet. Then he looked over at me and his eyes widened a bit. “Let's go eat.”
	“O-Oh, um.... okay.”
	“And make sure to eat it all, even if you're not hungry, alright? A-After today you're gonna need the energy, yeah?” He brushed off some of the dirt on his shorts and headed inside. I followed close behind.
	“Um, yeah, I guess so.... Don't you want to relax a bit first?”
	“We'll relax while we eat. And it'll just make your bed feel that much better tonight.... You should prob' go to bed early tonight, yeah? I can only imagine how worn out you are, and I don't want you to catch fever.”
	“Yeah, okay....” We walked in silence for a few moments before I spoke up again. “H-Hey, Joseph? How come you didn't... explain at all?”
	“What? You mean to Daughtry?”
	“Uh huh. You didn't really tell him what happened. Blon was the one being mean. You were just defending yourself—actually... you were defending me.”
	“It wouldn't have made a difference, yeah? I've tried explaining things to that [i]scummy bastard [/i]in the past and he is just like his slimy little brat of a child. He doesn't listen and he doesn't care about anybody other than himself, yeah? [i]Anybody[/i], Leo.”
	“Is he really that bad...?”
	“Worse.” Joseph said, suddenly grave. “Far worse than you could ever imagine.”
	And with that, we walked into the cafeteria.
	I found Joseph's calmness surprising. He seemed to have taken Daughtry's abuse in stride, as if he were used to it, but I couldn't help but wonder how well adjusted a person could become to treatment like that. But maybe there was more to it.
	Joseph's words since we'd talked in the woods seemed more directed than usual. They seemed to be spoken with explicit purpose, and possibly for that reason, he spoke from that point on only when I spoke first.
	I watched him during dinner and when we went back to the Bunker. He looked back at Blon's and Ant's glaring mockery with not a shred of fear or embarrassment and he kept staring off into the distance, as if he were preoccupied with something of immense importance.
	Again I was forced to wonder how 'back to normal' Joseph really was.

Chapter Fifteen

	I was in town. The cobblestone of the market street was now dirt; a fierce yellow color, like sand. The people strolled around, but they did not see me. And I knew they did not, since they did not stare at me.
	Strolling along side the Fair were other Fen. Some of them tall and narrow, others a bit shorter and stockier—in actuality, not much different from the Fair, save the fur and the blurry tails that sat in perfect stillness on the periphery of my vision. They didn't appear to be slaves, though they wore shoddy clothes, and most were underdressed.
	[i]Why isn't anybody staring at them?[/i]
	[i]Why isn't anybody staring at [/i]me[i]?[/i]
	These two questions appeared to me one time. That is to say, a single time in the tumultuous thing called thoughts. But they did not leave me. They sat there, still, just like the tails of the Fen and the yellow, sandy dirt that had replaced the cobblestone of the road. Like leeches they clung to every thought, yet never announced their presence.
	Specters that told me no more than 'I am haunting you,' and then never providing a drop more detail. All I knew was that they were there, but I could not attempt to answer them.
	I began sweating.
	My surroundings radiated heat, and the heat increased with every second.
	Everything grew muddy and smeared. First the tails and the sand and the back-of-mind thoughts, but the muddiness kept encroaching. Not from the sides, but it came from the center of my vision and followed me around like the dot of color that forms after staring into a bright light. It grew increasingly immense, moment by moment, covering more and more of my vision.
[i]	What is this?[/i]
[i]	Where am I?[/i]
[i]	I want to go home....[/i]
	I began to move, to rush headlong in one direction.
	I tried to crane my head in any direction other than the one I was going, but it wouldn't move. I didn't know why, I didn't even have the fortitude to ask; all I knew was that I didn't want to look straight anymore. The longer I stared, the muddier it got, the more what lied there [i]repulsed me[/i].
	[i]Maybe I do know why.[/i]
[i]	But I don't know now.[/i]
	The words faded a moment after they appeared, but the contradiction they posed remained. It racked my body with anxiety and confusion. How can two mutually exclusive things happen in tandem? How can two related thing be both a contradiction and not a contradiction?
	I asked these questions without words, without sensations.
	No answer.
	I kept running. I kept staring. The people started to blur more, contorting to face me, to move toward me, but all without looking or moving. And then they blended together. They were many people, then a few people, then two people, and then one. One wretched essence spiraling around me.
	This essence, this being that had been nothing but empty figures was now alive.
	Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was not thinking or sentient, but was a mindless beast acting on instinct.
	...But wasn't I that?
	I heard something muttered over the dense, cacophony of silence.
	My entire being began to quiver, as did everything I saw.
	The essence that tracked me, that surrounded me, that hungered for me. I felt it move in closer. I felt it on my flesh, touching me all over, in small, pin-point areas separated by uneven distances. I heard a strange muttering for a moment, all around me, coming from a source unknown, but it faded soon after, leaving a sense of horror in my entire self.
	I had to get away, but I could only go straight, and I knew it wanted me to go there. I wanted to stop, but I was too scared. I wanted to turn, but my panic kept the thought—the thought that I could switch directions--from fully forming. And if I couldn't fully form this thought, how could I feel it? If I couldn't feel it, how could I act upon it?
	[i]Help me.[/i]
	I heard the muttering again.
	Everything was so hot. Everything was falling away and there was nothing I could do about it. I reached out but it burnt; it burnt to reach out, to move, to stand still, to be [i]there[/i].
	I wanted out. I cried out in my thoughts
	[i]Home.[/i]
	I wanted to go home.
	But how could two mutually exclusive things happen in tandem?
	Where was home?
	Where was Gaol?
	Where was Mom?
	Where was Mrs. Shire?
	The muttering again, a shaking, intense nausea.
	How could two mutually exclusive things-
	
	“Hey... are you awake? Leo, hey....”
	[i]Whispering....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Psst, hey, get up already, we don't have much time!”
	[i]Joseph?[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Hey!”
	My eyes snapped open and I pulled a deep breath of air into my lungs. My body tensed up as I became aware of the awful feeling extending from my legs to my head--some strange, hybrid feeling between pain and the need to vomit.
	“Finally....” He sighed. “Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I'm leaving, alright? I'm getting out of here.”
	Joseph carried a bulging bag over his shoulder, though I had no idea where he'd gotten it from. His blue eyes glimmered faintly, wide and alert. In this darkness, he looked a lot like a child.
	[i]He's fifteen... and I'm twelve.[/i]
	“Did you hear me? I'm leaving, Leo. You can come with me if you want—I packed everything I could; there's enough food for us both for a few days, but.... You can come. You [i]should [/i]come. I... don't know what'll happen to you if you don't, but... I'm sorry, I j-just can't stay here any longer. Not another night, Leo. Not another [i]minute...[/i] yeah?”
	'[i]Yeah?'[/i]
[i]	[/i]The sudden relief I felt from hearing his vocal tic made me realize how desperately I'd been awaiting it. I blinked a few times, knowing I was awake for sure now.
	“So... are you coming?” His voice tensed with worry. “Y-You don't have to. I can't force you to do anything, but, but you don't want to stay here. N-Not alone.... Right?”
	“Joseph...I... I don't understand. Where are you going? Where are [i]we [/i]supposed to be[i] [/i]going?”
	“Out, Leo. Out. We're leaving, yeah? Anywhere other than here. Anywhere.”
	“But... doesn't there have to be a... a somewhere? Some other place for us to go?”
	“L-Look,” he went on, his face tight. “I know it sounds weird, but I'd rather be out there than in here. I can't [i]do it[/i] anymore.” His voice strained. “I just can't. I ne-I need to go. You can come if you want. But I... I gotta leave, yeah? I just gotta--There's... there's gotta be something out there. Anything.... Somewhere. Anywhere, yeah? --I'm sorry, but I have to. I don't have much time.” He kept looking back and then back at me. His panic grew with each movement, as if people were encroaching in on him, but nobody in the room stirred.
	 I was fully awake at this point. “W-Wait! I... I'm not sure. I...”
	I thought about what it would be like waking up and opening my eyes. About looking over to his bed and finding it empty. I thought about heading to first meal and then to second meal and then sitting down to eat alone both times. I thought about the countless hours I'd have to occupy. How I'd have to hide from Blon and Ant, how I'd have to hide from everybody and bury myself in books, and pray I survived. Pray I didn't starve. Pray I didn't lose my sanity like it seemed everybody around me had.
	I'd have nobody and nothing.
	I'd be utterly alone. Just as I had been the first time I walked in West-End, and Mrs. Shire had walked out.
	“I know it's sudden, but if you need more time I can try and come ba-”
	“-I'll go.”
	He looked taken aback, but a moment later all the worry in his child-like face melted away into a grin. “Yeah...? Okay! I knew I could count on you. Okay, hurry, hurry, I've already taken too long. If someone wakes up we're screwed, yeah?” He pulled the covers off me and helped me out of bed. He pushed my shoes over to me and looked around anxiously as I rushed to put them on.
	I got to my feet.
	“Alright, quick, over here. We're gonna go out the window....”
	We hurried over to his bed where he'd already opened his window and we stopped.
	“What happens if we get caught?”
	He looked over at me, confused at first. “Good idea taking the blanket, yeah? We'll need everything we can get.”
	I had the thin blue West-End comforter wrapped around my body like a robe made for someone twice my size.
	“And don't worry about that,” he continued. “We're not gonna get caught.” He ushered me over to the window and held the blanket as I climbed out.
	The frigid air hit me the moment I got a portion of my body outside the window. I thanked myself for having grabbed it.
	Joseph slid out with speed and grace and fluidity. He handed me my blanket back, which I gratefully accepted and promptly re-wrapped around my body, adjusting it so it draped down my shoulders a bit, but allowed my legs full range of motion.
	Then we ran.
	Joseph plowed his way through the tall, unkempt grass surrounding the back of West-End, no doubt checking his speed so I could remain in tow. He headed straight for the unexplored woods, and upon reaching the line that marked the entrance into wilderness, he disappeared into the thick brush and led me through the blackness presumably toward his trail.
	My chest heaved and I did my best to keep my eyes on Joseph's back, and occasionally on the ground. In my attempts to remain as close to him as possible, I'd bumped into him a couple times, and he'd hit me with his wide swinging feet, and more than a few times with his tail. But, thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.
	“J-Joseph.”
	“Yeah?” He whispered back, slowing down his pace a bit.
	I did my best to speak between rapid breaths. “How far are we going...?”
	“We're heading to my trail, yeah? When we get there, we'll take it all the way to my training spot, and then we will take my other trail that leads us to the Road.”
	“To the Road...?”
	“Sometimes people walk the Road at night. Not usually all the way to town, though. If we stick to the woods we shouldn't have anything to worry about, yeah? Nobody should see us if we head that far down”
	“Oh. What about after that? Do you have a place in town for us to stay...?”
	He didn't respond, but remained at his slowed down pace.
	“Joseph...?”
	“No, I don't.” He paused for a few moments, and then went on. “The plan is to get close to town, and then head back into the woods... and then... we'll just have to spend the night out here, yeah?”
	I looked around, taking in the all-too relieving sight of near pure blackness. What was not entirely shrouded in black was the blackened silhouette of some spiny, bushy, many-sided piece of life back-lit by the rays of the moon.
	Even in the few moments we'd been walking, I'd heard no shortage of noises, ranging from animals to insects to the most malevolent sounding sticks cracking underfoot. I swallowed, only capable of imagining how loud the forest cacophony would get the moment we stopped.
	“We're... sleeping outside? Out here?”
	“Yes... I'm sorry....” His voice dropped in volume as he continued. “It's not too late to turn around. You... you don't have to follow me.”
	I didn't respond, and he did not turn around. I hated the idea of going back to West-End alone, but somehow, in that moment, the thought Joseph might stay out in these woods alone, the idea he might have to be savagely reminded of his own loneliness by my own cowardice. It hurt more. And the tone in his voice; he'd sounded as if he might cry making his offer to take me back.
	I didn't respond.
	When we reached his trail, we did just as he'd said. We followed it to the training spot, and then took the next, less developed trail to the Road. We followed the Road a few miles and then, when Joseph felt we were getting 'unsafely close' to town, we went back into the woods, again forcing our way through untrodden brush just as we had earlier in the night.
	Except now we were not a crow's throw away from West-End. We were not a crow's throw away from anybody, or anything. It took every bit of my strength not to collapse to the ground in tears from terror and exhaustion, and had it not been for Joseph and his back, the part of him to which I'd affixed my gaze for comfort, I would have for sure.
	I could only imagine how Joseph felt, having nobody's back to look at, knowing that nobody could protect [i]him [/i]from the chilling immensity that surrounded us both. His courage was ten-fold as great as mine, but even he had slowed down, afraid to walk headlong into that blackness, and even he occasionally stopped to listen to the noises of the night, or flinched at the particularly loud sounds that came out of nowhere.
	After what felt like an eternity, we stopped in a small clearing under a thick tree and he tossed away the stick he'd used to protect himself against spider webs. He'd said it was 'as good as any other spot' and started clearing the leaves out of the way so we had a nice, comfy patch of gray dirt to sleep on.
	I stood there, shivering, yet wet with sweat. I clutched my blanket and watched him, guilt over my current uselessness, but thankful he didn't ask me to be useful.
	After that, he sat down against the tree and invited me over. I sat down next to him. We were between two large roots. The area was cozy, but the unpadded dirt was hard.
	“Tomorrow is gonna be a long day, yeah? We should get some sleep.”
	I looked around the forest warily. “...Sleep?”
	“I know, yeah? It's scary. But once you close your eyes, y-you'll drift off.... And you don't have to worry about anything, y-yeah? You have me out here to protect you.” He spoke confidently, hopefully, as if this were the beginning of greater things.
	[i]Is he actually happy out here...? [/i]I wondered
	“You're shivering,” I said, loosening my grip on the blanket. “Here.” I tried to extend part of the blanket to him, but he scooted away, pressing himself into the tree's root.
	“No, no,” he said, uncrossing his hands to dismiss me. “I'm fine. You use it, y-yeah?”
	“I can tell your cold. Just take it.”
	“No, I'd be a lot m-more comfortable if you used the whole thing. I can tell you're c-colder than me, yeah?”
	“But... it'll be warmer with both of us under it. Please?”
	I couldn't make out his face in the dark, but I could tell by the suddenness of his silence and by the fact he was still facing me that he was deeply conflicted.
	“I'm sorry.... I.... I just can't. C-Come on, let's just get some sleep.”
	He slid downward, letting the slope formed by the tree and the ground act as a pillow for his neck.
	“But....” I turned away from him, dejected.
	[i]But you can't sleep like that, [/i]I thought. [i]You're freezing.... [/i]I'm [i]freezing. Even now I can see you shivering....[/i]
	I slid down and tried to relax like he had, but I couldn't get comfortable. It wasn't just the hard ground or the uneven dirt, or even the darkness and the noises—though those things were [i]wildly [/i]unpleasant—but it was knowing that he was next to me, uncovered, with nothing more than his clothes to keep him warm. Even with the blanket I was shivering. I could only imagine how he felt.
	And then I shot up, my eyes staring in the direction of some bushes. “What was that?” I asked in a hushed tone.
	“Nothing. Probably just some animal or something. D-Don't worry about it, y-yeah?”
	I sat there for a few moments, spine erect, and then slowly eased myself back down. Every sound I heard amplified my anxiety a bit, but now that we were in one place, and in a sense exposed, the true seriousness of the situation and of those sounds began to dawn on me.
	The moment my head touched the tree, I heard it again and sat up, involuntarily.
	“You heard it that time, right?” I asked.
	“Yeah,” he said sounding a bit afraid himself now too. “B-But, I heard it the first time, yeah? It's still probably just an animal. It is more afraid of us than we are of it, yeah? Just try to ignore it.”
	I exhaled a heavy, quivering breath. I bit down on my lip and curled myself into a tight ball. I didn't relax again, though. I couldn't be sure that what I'd heard was an animal. And if it was, I couldn't be sure it was a safe animal to sleep near. I couldn't be sure that even if that noise had been caused by a safe animal, that there weren't other people, other things, horrible, nasty, malevolent things lurking in every other corner.
	I could make out the silhouettes of bushes and trees and moss and branches and all manners of things hanging and sagging and forming the most grotesque imagery I could fathom in that pale moonlight.
	How had I even laid down to begin with? How had I even made it this far? Now that I was no longer in motion, there was no more escape. Now that I was still, there was no more hope, no more chances of stumbling upon luck or safety.
	I swallowed and gently rocked back and forth, every second the true nonsense of this world and this situation encroaching in further, like some kind of specter. Like some kind of monster waiting just over my shoulder.
	I looked over my shoulder, I even turned to look past the tree, and the moment I saw the wretched forms the brush took there, the moment I saw all the hiding places and crevices, I immediately regretted it. I turned back around and clenched my jaw.
	However, it was no use.
	I couldn't handle this. I could barely handle the forest during the day. But in the middle of the night? Lying here? On the ground? Tears streamed down my face, and despite how I tightened my jaw and my face and my chest, sobs forced there way out of my nose in the form of stifled exhalations and sharp inhalations.
	Again that word played in my head:
	[i]Home.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Why was I obsessed with it all the sudden? Why did town trigger this word in me? Why did town make it important? Why did it suddenly prey in my dreams and follow around every thought, like some promise of happiness that existed more as an obstacle than anything else?
	[i]Mrs. Shire.[/i]
[i]	[/i]I missed her so much. Words did not describe how much I wanted her to hug me. How much I wanted her to take Joseph and me away. I thought for a moment about how much easier things would have been if she'd just taken me to live with her, but I terminated these thoughts as quickly as I could. I felt to even think them was a betrayal of Joseph.
	...But did that contradict the truth behind them?
	How much easier would it have all been? How much easier would it be now...?
	“Leo?” Joseph turned back to face me. “Are you okay?”
	I sniffed. “No...”
	He sighed and sat up. He looked down at his lap and then over at me. “I'm s-sorry. This was a huge mistake, yeah?”
	“How come you did it?” I asked with a broken voice. “Why tonight? Why all the sudden? Couldn't we have talked about it first?”
	“I meant bringing you, yeah? Because, no, no, it had to be tonight. There was no choice there. It [i]had [/i]to be, okay? But... I guess I couldn't have left you either, yeah? But I should have done something. [i]Anything [/i]to have prepared you for this....”
	“Are you [i]prepared?” [/i]I asked coarsely. “Were you ready for this? For the cold and for the woods and f-f-for sleeping on the ground? Was this what you wanted?”
	“This was not what I wanted, Leo.... And no, I wasn't prepared for this. And I am not comfortable, and I am not happy, and I'm really scared and I don't know what to do or-” He stopped talking suddenly. Then his voice grew lower. “I couldn't do it anymore. I had to leave. I'm sorry I dragged you along, yeah?”
	We sat in silence. The longer we sat there, the worse I felt.
	“Sorry,” I nearly whispered. “I just... I-I'm... scared.”
	“...Yeah,” he whispered back. “Me too.”
	A few moments after that, I scooted up closer to him, and this time he didn't scoot away. I scooted again, pressing my side into his.
	I pulled off a portion of the blanket and he lifted it up and slid under, pressing into me as he did it. Then, after a few more moments of adjustment, he put his arm around my shoulder and I fell into him, resting against his chest.
	“We're gonna be alright.”
	That was the last thing either of us said that night.
	I don't know for how long I sat there drifting in and out of sleep, looking around and looking up to find Joseph either sitting with his eyes half open, or temporarily closed, but at some point, I drifted off into a real slumber.
	I didn't know what I would wake up to. I didn't even know if I would wake up. All I knew was that there was no more safety net. There was nothing to catch us if we fell.
	Judging by how Joseph had spoken about it, West-End was now a thing of the past. There was no turning back.
	But then again, why turn back? Why go back to that place to rot away and die?
	Even if what stood before us turned out to be a million times more terrible, at least in the murky silhouettes of the bushes in vines, beyond the dancing shapes of monstrous specters and crackling leaves and chirping woodland creatures, there was a slight glimmer of light. There was the the chance for change, the chance for escape, a hope for Gaol.

Chapter Sixteen
Amoux

	“Bring in Matin!” Amoux called.
	The flaps of the Tout Savoir's tent flipped open. Searing orange light filled the large enclosure, making everybody squint except for the Tout Savoir himself. Two guards brought Matin forward, one on each side, their hands clasped gruffly around his arms. Matin's hands were bound, his right eye was swollen from a blow, and his fur, mainly the fur on his face, was covered in dried blood.
	Like Samuel who stood to the Tout Savoir's right, Matin was a Fen.
	“Hmm, it is a shame.” Amoux tightened his eyes. “I had high hopes for you.”
	“Please....” Matin said, his voice cracking for want of water. “It's a mistake.... You... you can't. It's a-”
	“Enough.” Amoux put up a hand to silence him. “You've lived among us long enough, Matin. Surely you know how this goes by now?”
	Matin's desperate expression morphed into terror. His eyes glimmered with tears of fear.
	“Tell me,” Amoux began, his words meticulous, a stark contrast to Matin's fervent begging. “You've done the deed yourself, have you not? You've killed betrayers with your own dirk at the Tout Savoir's word, yes? I recall you doing it loyally—even eagerly.”
	“I-I have! I m-mean I did! I did so loyally! I did so for the sake of the Tout Savoir and for the country! I-”
	“-[i]You did it...” [/i]Amoux went on, “because you wanted to get close to the Tout Savior. Or maybe it is more apt to say you wanted to get inside the ranks of the rebellion? In any case, what you wanted was to aid the rebellion, to contribute to this... attrition. You wanted to aid Kendralli.”
	“N-No. No, I... I didn't-”
	“Did you really think it would be so easy?” Amoux's beady eyes grew tighter. “Did you think you'd get away with this?”
	“I s-s-swear! I d-didn't mean for it to happen this way! I-I was just... I was just gathering information! I did it t-to help! It's a-”
	“-Oh?” Amoux pressed. “You did it to help us?”
	“Y-Yes! I-I-I... I wanted to get insider information, so I pr...” He paused for a moment and coughed. He began again a moment later, his voice even more cracked than before. “I w-wanted to pretend to join their ranks. So I c-could... give you their secrets.”
	Amoux laughed. “A fool will say anything to stay alive, but unfortunately for you, it's your tendency to say anything that is going to get you killed. But surely someone clever enough to double cross is clever enough to come up with a better excuse than that...? You conspire with a faux One Movement agent, and then you have the audacity to say you do so for our own good?”
	“I-I didn't, I meant... I m-meant I... that I wanted to get-”
	“-Yes, you wanted to get information—you said that already, did you not? Yes, yes, information, and let me say, you offered a pretty fair price for that information. [i]Information about us.”[/i]
[i]	[/i]“I s-swear I-”
	“-You? You what? You were going to kill the spy before he tossed you to the ground like a child's doll? You were going to get better information? Something better than what you gave him? Or were you were going to go across the sea and personally slaughter Kendralli yourself?”
	Matin went silent. He stared at Amoux, his eyes wide with terror. He looked over at the Tout Savior, and then looked away. The Tout Savior watched him the entire time, his hood the color of sand, pulled down low so that only a portion of his ebony skin could be seen beyond it.
	“Matin.” Amoux said softly, but not gently. “You are going to die in this tent.”
	Matin's eyes widened until each looked like its own moon. “N-N-No! Ple-”
	“-To betray us for something as measly as this.” Amoux pulled a coin of deep red out of the pocket of his robe. He flicked it in the air and caught it between his fingers. “A single coin of blood. Fine. If you want a blood coin so desperately, take it Matin. See if you can spend in YOI.” Amoux flicked the coin toward Matin.
	The Tout Savoir launched forward. In an instant, he went from sitting, to kneeling in front of Matin, his sword drawn and plunged into the Fen's belly. Matin lurched, coughed blood, and stared back into the Tout Savior's wide, yellow eyes. The coin plunked on to the stone floor.
	“Betrayal,” the Tout Savior said lowly as he pulled the blood downward through Matin's intestines. “Will not be tolerated.” He freed the blade. Matin clutched his open stomach and fell to the ground groaning and gurgling.
	[i]The Tout Savoir....” [/i]Amoux thought. [i]Ronaldo, Son of Lightening. The fastest swordsman on Izyadro.[/i]
[i]	The most powerful man alive.[/i]
[i]	[/i]Ronaldo returned to his chair.
	“Remove him!” Amoux called out. The flaps of the tent opened once again. The same two guards entered and lifted Matin's groaning form and dragged him away, leaving a trail of smeared blood on the ground.
	[i]The pain is leaving him now. [/i]Amoux thought. [i]And sleep takes its place.[/i]
[i]	[/i]When the tent had been cleared, Amoux called for the next to see the Tout Savoir.
	“Enter: Lord Celestyna! Guardian of the Border! Queen of Snakes!”
	The flap of the tent flipped open again. Sunlight filled the pale enclosure with yellow and orange. A shadow was cast on the Tout Savoir, in the shape of a woman, with a small line extending up from the shoulder.
	“Ronaldo. It has been too long.”
	Ronaldo stared back at Celestyna, unmoving and unspeaking. She smiled at him and took small, regal steps toward his seat, one half of her sea green dress extending down to her ankle, the other half cutting vertically across her legs, up to her thigh. A sparkling silver necklace of interwoven, multi-shaped loops covered the upper part of her chest, and a green snake with black stripes sat on her shoulder, half of its body draped down the side of her torso.
	“Is he dead?” Ronaldo asked, his voice low and gruff.
	Her smile dimmed a bit. “Things... did not go as expected.”
	Amoux looked at Ronaldo, but he saw no reaction.
	“We've not heard back from my assassin,” she went on. “It is to my understanding that he is dead.”
	The room went silent and stayed that way for several moments.
	“Do you have any information on Kendralli? Was your assassin of any use at all?” Amoux asked.
	Celestyna narrowed her eyes. “We know where Kendralli is. At least, we know the general location of his headquarters.”
	“So you know where Kendralli is, but you do not know where he is?” Amoux pressed.
	“We [i]do [/i]know where he is. But no, I could not tell you his exact location right this second from the other side of the ocean. If you'd like to know with such specificity, why do you not go see Kendralli yourself, Amoux? Give him my regards, could you?”
	“You seem to think this is a wise time for jokes, Guardian, but I should remind you it was your assassin that failed. It is your fault that Kendralli-”
	“-Enough.” Ronaldo said, looking up, his yellow eyes glowing in the pale, ambient light. “It was folly to send another after Kendralli.”
	Celestyna bowed her head. Amoux watched Ronaldo and waited for him to go on. Samuel, the Fen priest who stood up on the opposite of Ronaldo, broke the silence.
	“It was folly to send another after Kendralli. He is clever, and even if they manage to outsmart him and get him alone, that means little and less if they can't kill him—and I know of few people who can do that.” Samuel looked over at Ronaldo. “Your brother has proved to be quite the obstacle.”
	“As I knew he would be.” Ronaldo said, his eyes low, seemingly in contemplation.
	“I apologize, my Lord.” Celestyna began. “Ranaan was the best assassin that I had. For him to fail... it is unheard of.”
	Ronaldo sat in silence for several long moments before he responded. “...Samuel is right. Sending another after Kendralli is folly. There is only one who can kill him.” Ronaldo stood from his seat. “Celestyna, return to the border. Amoux, I want Deliverance ready to sail at once. Lord Florent will be in command until I return.” He headed for the tent flap.
	“Yes, milord.” Celestyna bowed.
	“But Savoir!” Amoux began. “Are... are you sure this is wise?”
	“I am the only one who can kill him.” Ronaldo replied grimly. “Nobody else can be trusted with this task. That is clear to me now.”
	“But we are in the middle of a war. Your country needs you [i]here.[/i]”
	“You do not need to remind me we are in a war, Amoux. I am reminded each and every day by the state of this country. But there is more than just Germanus on the horizon. I will not stand by idly while my country is destroyed from the inside by an army of cowards and fools. Germanus can be kept out of our country for as long as need be, but betrayal permeates all barriers. And betrayal will not be tolerated.”
	The Tout Savoir exited the tent without another word.