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They shouldn’t spoil the ending, however, so read away! ;D\n\nBlake goes a little pink in the ears. Maybe the song's not so bad after all.\n\n---------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\"Come on, lawbat! Don't ya want yer trousers back?\"\n\n\"I need those! Six, this isn't—- The washer-woman has my other pairs!\" A quick wing snatches at them. I'm quicker.\n\nClothed and decent, I bounce around the room keeping Blake separated from his garments. \"And here ah reckoned you had life all planned out. One little bunny razes it all to ruin.\"\n\nAnother miss. The boy'd be better at this game if he wasn't so concerned with keeping a wing over his nakedness. He scowls. \"One bunny is all I can abide.\"\n\n\"So you're a one-bunny bat?\" Trousers balled up behind my back, I lean down for a kiss.\n\nThe pretty fruit bat's ears drop. \"By now, you ought to know what sort of man I am.\" His soft lips meet mine.\n\nI let the kiss linger for a spell, then smile at him. \"The sort without any trousers!\" I go bouncing down the hall, pants in paw.\n\nThe sheriff stifles a cuss, pauses for a thought, then comes chasing after me. We giggle and raise ruckus down the hall. After much grabbing and wrestling, the lawbat makes a bold dive, almost flying, pinning me to the sitting room floor. Wicked thoughts cross my bunny mind about what we might get to out here.\n\nI pant under his scrawny body, his fur and breath soft against me. Some intimate twitches bring a blush to my ears. \"Why Mister Blake, you'll just take any opportunity to get atop me, won't ya?\"\n\nHe opens his muzzle to say something clever, but I seize two pawfuls of his bare rump. He makes all manner of cute batty noises, then tenses above me, staring and stunned.\n\nI follow his gaze to a surprised and, from where I'm laying, upside-down canine.\n\n\"Well, good morning, Deputy Harding.\" I tip the hat I'm not wearing in salute.\n\nAfter a pause, the old bloodhound raises his teacup in return. \"Morning.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\nMy lawbat scandalized, I'm left alone with the deputy, who is showing me an entirely different brand of hospitality. Sipping on a glass of cool peach tea, I wonder just how he brews it. Must chill the tea after steepin' it, then mix in peach preserves without making it thick on the tongue.\n\n\"Mah apologies about the little show you got, Harding.\"\n\n\"Don't worry on it, though it'd pay for the two a’ yew to be more cautious.\"\n\n\"Were the lawbat any more cautious, we'd never get him down from the rafters.\" My paws curl around the cool sides of the teacup.\n\nThe old dog busies himself pouring another cup. \"I'm willin' to bet you could.\"\n\nI drown my shyness in a sip. \"Some mighty fine tea you brewed me.\"\n\n\"My mama's recipe.\" Under all that bloodhound sadness, he smiles. \"Hurts Blake something terrible, how you keep leavin'.\"\n\nI take a seat opposite Harding in the sitting room, watching the dust dance in the morning sun. \"Doesn't do me any wonders either.\"\n\nBefore the dog can respond, Blake ambles back in a state of dress. Bat doesn't meet either of our eyes as he glances out the window. \"Any news, Deputy?\"\n\n\"Nothin' especially. Got the postal stagecoach comin' through today. Gotta watch out for those quiet days though. Tea?\"\n\n\"I'm not in a mood for sitting down just now.\"\n\nI stifle a laugh. I'll have to see about his mood when we get a moment. \"You goin' on patrol, lawbat?\"\n\n\"It's my turn. Though with you here…\" He manages to shoot me a grin.\n\n\"Hey now! I don't mean to leave the bloodhound in a jam on account of mah sticking around for a day.\"\n\n\"A consideration you seem to lack with me.\"\n\n\"Ya don't seem to mind terribly the jams I put you in.\" I kick my feet up on an empty chair and smile all sweet-like.\n\nBlake fights down a fluster, crossing his wings. \"What do you propose?\"\n\n\"I'll tag along on patrol. Keep mahself outta trouble while we go around keepin' folk from having a good time.\" That should suit his fancy.\n\n\"I suppose I could deputize you for the day.\"\n\n\"Deputy nothin'! I'm not fixing to be your lackey. No offense, Harding.\"\n\nThe deputy shrugs and takes another gulp of peach tea.\n\nBlake lifts his ears at me. \"Six, if you're not a deputy, you'll have to stay out of the way should anything happen.\" His muzzle dips with a smile. \"You really think you can do that?\"\n\nI settle my arms behind my head, leaning the chair back. \"Reckon you'll just have to make me sheriff too, then.\"\n\n\"...Alright.\"\n\nThe chair bucks wild under me. I about spill onto the floor. \"Whoa! Say what now?\"\n\n\"Nothing in the city charter sets a limit of just one sheriff. You can be one.\" Those pretty brown eyes narrow on me. \"Only for today, mind you.\"\n\n\"I'll be needin' a badge.\"\n\nHe gets a smart little smirk. \"That's the easy part.\"\n\nAs Harding looks on, amused, Blake offers me a wing. I take it and rise, following him into the office. Once inside, the sheriff opens a file cabinet and slides the papers back to reveal a strongbox affixed inside. Keys jingle from his belt to his wing thumbs, unlocking it. He takes out an old silver sheriff's badge.\n\n\"That belonged to my uncle.\" He pins it on my vest, then flips something shinier out of the box. \"And I believe this belongs to you.\"\n\nI take the pin, turning it over in my paws. \"And here ah'd thought you'd do somethin' all romantic like wear it 'til I came back.\"\n\nHe touches my arm. \"Some things I'm not willing to risk losing.\"\n\nThat sets a real blush to my ears. I glance away, at the strongbox. Has some cash in it, maybe a hundred in a neat stack of greenbacks, along with some old journals and a sack of coins. I affix the pin to its usual home, if displaced a bit by the sheriff star. \"What now?\"\n\nBlake slips on his hat and tips it my way. \"Now we walk through town on my route, and keep folks from having a good time.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\n“Took down those wanted posters of you.\" \n\n\"Much obliged.\"\n\nBlake looks at me looking at folk who look at me. \"With Hayes gone, everybody ought to realize there’s no reward to be had.”\n\n“Seein' as how they gotta turn me in to you, daresay ah could make my escape easy enough.” I wink his way. \n\n\"Let's see it doesn't come to that.\" His wing brushes against me. Would like to have him on my arm, though I got enough eyes my way at present. I settle for walking close to him. \n\nWe see to sifting the heap of humdrum the bat's so keen on. Ferret kits tussle and steal a ball of string from each other. More lawsome folk busy themselves with their shops and shopping. Some saddlery horse compliments me on my new gunbelt; neither Blake nor I return his wink.\n\nBeing all peaceable bores me some, though talking to the lawbat is a mite nicer than I’ll admit to him. Besides, we've got more hats tipping our way than a windstorm. \n\n\"Funny how everybody around you makes a point a' being all law-abiding.\"\n\nHis pearly whites shine a smile my way. \"Yourself included.\"\n\nI shoot him a dark glance from the shade of my hat. \"Ah'd take it as a kindness if you didn't remind me.\"\n\nHis wing rises to pat me on the shoulder, but just like that I feel a tug from my gun. Both paws slip to my belt, feeling the gun that's there and the one I need to beat out of the lion Hayes. The pull of their echo, gentle but insisting, diverts me to the saloon. \n\n\"Six, isn't it a bit early for drinking?\" He follows.\n\n\"A mite, yes.\" I breeze in the doors. \n\nMusk and cheap whiskey hang like whore's tits--still obvious, but covered up a trifle for the late morning crowd. Patrons trickle back in, or never left, sitting all bleary at the tables. The main topic of debate seems to be if they should go across the street to eat lunch or stay here and drink it. I recognize two mutts playing dominos, but they're regulars.\n\nLight glints through the barkeep's prized collection of colorful bottles. Dusts them more often than the windows, it seems. A collie with a lazy ear, he trots behind the bar, tending his flock of firewater and rotgut. His daughter's around, always is. Nice enough gal, sheepish for a collie; pity her position as a saloon girl keeps most folk looking down their muzzles at her.\n\nThe cat at the piano has either been tipped too much or not enough, so he yowls into a bawdy tune about an armadillo from Amarillo. Nothing to write home about, but I'm impressed he can rhyme so many words to \"bordello.\" Blake goes a little pink in the ears. Maybe the song's not so bad after all.\n\nWe stand off to one side, just taking in the scene. Waiting to see why the echo in my gun yanked me so.\n\nIn the corner, a 'dillo in a poncho unrolls from his slump over the bar, bleary-eyed. He rises from his puddle of drool and profanity. By the width of his ears and the narrow of his eyes, I'd hazard he's a little pinch hung-over.\n\nThe piano cat continues his shrill caterwaul, until a coffin varnish bottle comes hurtling against his piano, no doubt aimed at his head.\n\n\"Ah take exception tah yer song, fleabag.\" The 'dillo's nose wiggles in fury, claws smacking against the floor. \"Ah won't abide no slurs against my kin.\"\n\nThe cat hisses up from nursing the fresh dent in his piano. His white tail spikes out like a bottlebrush. \"I'll play whatever tickles my fancy!\"\n\nClaws glint in the dim room. On any other day, he'd be a bad sport for that, but armadillos aren't known for responding to the customary exchange of wallops. Wells Fargo hires them by the score because they bring their own armor. \n\nThe mutts pause their game of dominos, turning to watch as they cheat each other.\n\nBlake steps forward, but I touch his slim shoulder. \n\nI meet his pretty eyes. \"Let me handle this one, lawbat.\"\n\nHe gets a contrary look, but sighs. His wing sweeps me onward. \n\nTwo strides and I grip the 'dillo's back armor. The bumpy texture uneases my paws as I hold him back. I could lighten his pockets, and probably ought to, but I refrain for the lawbat's sake. \"What seems to be the trouble, friend?\"\n\n\"Who in the hell are you?\" Beady, half-hazed eyes glare up at me. \n\nI give my badge a little shine. \"I'm the sheriff.\"\n\nAround the saloon, eyes and ears turn to Blake. I take the moment to scoot a table closer to the 'dillo.\n\nThe lawbat shrugs. \"Provisionally, yes.\"\n\nMy small armored pal puffs himself up, plates shifting, though he's not even up to my chest. All self-important, spits on my boots.\n\nI drive two fingers against his chest. Beady eyes spring wide. Slowly, slowly, he tips. His toes lift off the floor. Rolls from tail to rump to back. His puny arms flail at nothing. \n\nI kick a second table against him, wedging the drunk 'dillo in place. \"Ease off, roly-poly.\"\n\nThe domino mutts bark a laugh each. The collie barkeep hides his grinning muzzle. His daughter points her long nose to the back room. \n\nI spare a quick look at Blake, but he's leaning back against the bar, content to superintend from a ways off.\n\n\"Now you.\" I turn to the piano cat.\n\nHe squirms as I loom over him like the noonday sun. \"Me?\"\n\n\"Ah think it's time to change yer tune.\"\n\nI weigh down his tip jar with a silver dollar, then whisper in his pointy ear. I step back, trading a look with Blake, as the piano player settles into his seat, cracks his paws, and sets to tickling ivory. \n\n\"Don't think this settles things!\" The 'dillo snaps at my heels as I stride past. \n\n\"That any way to talk to a fella buying you drinks?\" I flip a coin onto the bar. Barkeep jiggers me two hurried shots. \n\nI set both drinks beside the 'dillo, who offers a somewhat less sour expression. I cross my arms, trying to sound like Blake, only manly. \"Now, if we're reasonable fellas, this'll be the part where you have a couple drinks and wait for somebody to move these tables.\" I place a paw on the heavy wood.\n\nHis horsey ears swivel back, but his voice has lost its edge. \"And if we ain't?\"\n\n\"Then I tie your nose to your tail and roll you down Skull Creek Gulch.\" I smile down at him. \"Comprende?\"\n\nA grumble of agreement.\n\n\"Glad to see you're a good sport after all.\" I resist the urge to goad him. Much. Blake follows me out of the saloon as the cat mewls into the chorus of \"My Flabby Tabby Mistress.\" \n\n* * * * *\n\n\"Handled that well.\" His wing rests on my shoulder as we walk onto the porch of the City Office. Street's empty. Sand and heat are the only things that linger this time of day. His gold eyes glint at me. \"Though a trifle unorthodox.\"\n\nEars up, chest out, I wiggle the paw that picked my own pocket. \"I fancied it up for your sake.\"\n\nHis wing thumbs squeeze my shoulder. \"Have you given any thought to becoming a real deputy?\"\n\nI tug down the brim of my hat, using my whiskey voice. \"You given any thought to a life a' crime?\"\n\n\"Touché.\"\n\n\"Stop makin' up words, Sheriff. Nobody understands what yer sayin'.\"\n\n\"That's a perfectly valid—- Oh.\" \n\nI smile, all sweet-like.\n\nHis ears flatten. \"If I wanted sass, I have foxes aplenty.\"\n\n\"And not a one like me.\"\n\nA frown sours his fruit bat muzzle. \"Don't I know it…\"\n\nThe door creaks open, letting out a gust of bloodhound. \n\n\"Deputy?\"\n\n\"Howdy, Sheriff.\" A slow nod, then the dog jostles a beaded bag onto his shoulder. \"Reckon I'll head off for the evenin'. Got some business with the 'yotes tonight.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Blake scratches an ear, baffled in the noonday sun. \"I didn't remember you mentioning...\"\n\n\"Came up sudden-like.\"\n\nI smile. \"Think you'd better give the hound his leave, Sheriff. In fact, as sheriff myself, I order him to go. For the sake a' the town.\"\n\n\"Six, you're only sheriff provis--\"\n\n\"Alright, then. Ah may be late in the mornin' too, just so you're aware.\" He tips his hat. \"You folks have a right pleasant night.\"\n\nThe dog and I trade conspiring glances, then he shuffles down the road with the slightest of wags. Dust swirls after his steps in pale puffs, the air rippling with heat.\n\nBlake squints after his deputy. For a bat, he doesn't seem to mind the day. Has a couple hats, but he tends to lose them--what with his habit of flying and all. \"Harding's not the type to just take off like that.\"\n\n\"Well...\" My paw closes on his vest, dragging him inside the office. I shut the door after him, in case any prying eyes do brave this heat. \"Let me show ya the type ah am...\" In the cool shadows, I drop my ears and gaze down at my lawbat. \n\nA nervous chuckle. \"Right in the middle of the day?\" He nuzzles the tip of one ear, then the other.\n\nI breathe into his ear, hoping he'll take to that. I always do. \"Sun ain't the only heat you'd better mind today.\"\n\nHe gets on his tiptoes and kisses me. \"Your radiance, madam, outshines it a thousandfold.\"\n\nI haven't the first clue on what to say to that, so I kiss him back. My arms wrap him up, paws surveying up his wings, under his vest, along his back. All the while, his tongue's dancing across and around mine, robbing me of my wits. We're soon leaning against the wall, muzzle to muzzle, hip to hip. Being taller, I bend my knees a little to hunch against him, obliged as I am to the tingle between my thighs. \n\nBreaking the kiss, he nestles his head under my chin. His wings rub the curve of my muscled bunny rump, groping on my fluffy tail.\n\nI keep up my soft thrusts. \"Yer sure panting, lawbat.\" My paws slide down the front of his vest, undoing buttons all the way. \"We'd best get you outta these clothes.\"\n\nHis ears dip, shy-like. \"Right here?\"\n\n\"Reckon this is a fine place.\" I flash him a grin and bury my paws in his trousers.\n\nThe consternation in his eyes fades like stars at dawn, outshone by pleasure as I jerk the loose skin of his sheath. His naked flesh runs smooth, hot, silky in my paws. He moans. Sometime around my stroking down to his sac, his trousers run short of room, so I do the polite thing and undo his fly. In what's becoming a familiar and welcome sight, his pink shaft meets the daylight, still mostly hidden in its chocolate sheath. I stroke the sheath with one paw, teasing at the emerging head with the other. He shudders and, about halfway stiff, he melts like butter against me.\n\nAfter a spell, I figure this'll be easier from my knees. From down here, his scent runs richer, closer. I feel a rush of nerves and delight at the scandalous moment we're in, the state I can put an upstanding lawbat into with just a touch of my paws. I can feel his heartbeat along the smooth skin of his cock.\n\nHe's hard now, his sheath stretched somewhat taut around the base. I used to think it looked like a pony's, but, upon further examination, his looks far prettier. More delicate. Matches the rest of him. I rub it against the soft fur of my cheek. \n\nBlake gasps.\n\n\"Good?\" I look up, cradling him with care in both paws. \n\nHis voice fades to a murmur even as his eyes glimmer down on me. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Good.\" I notice a glimmer of liquid at his tip and kiss it away. He fancies most things I do to him, but I was a tad rough on him the first time, so I still like to watch his face to be sure. What's more, it's an interesting angle to have on the lawbat: one of the rare moments he can look down to me. I kiss down to the folds of his sheath, then back to his tip, all the while meeting his eyes. Heat rises in my ears, though, and my gaze shifts to the task at hand. \n\nI stroke the sheriff faster, my fingertips skimming over the surface. Now and again, I let my paws do their reloading tricks on his tip, though I know this weapon's already loaded. \n\n\"Mmmmmm, Six...\" His wing cups my cheek. \"H-hold on a minute.\" \n\nI watch him, wondering if I did something or didn't.\n\nHe steps sideways, and I let him slip from my grasp, then let him take my paw. \"Come on. I want to show you something.\"\n\nWe scamper back to his bedroom. Good thing he had my paw; I'm liable to run into a wall with his pink shaft bobbing around like that. \n\n\"You may need to...\" His ears drop as he grapples with stammers. \"Your trousers might interfere.\" \n\nI can't say shucking my pants with Blake sounds like a bad idea, so I kick out of my boots, then slide off everything below my gunbelt. \n\nBlake hops, hooks his wing thumbs into the rafter, then flips over so he's dangling from his hind paws. His cock sways at eye level. Looks at me as if that's normal. \"Sit down on the bed.\"\n\n\"Ah see what yer up to, lawbat.\" I bounce onto the mattress, only to find, for the first time since I hit my head on a fox's doorway, that I'm not tall enough. I can lick the tip of his member, but I'll have to bounce up to lick the shaft. I stick out my tongue, balancing him on it for a moment, then happen upon an idea. Inspired, I grab both his pillows, stack them, and plant my fluffy tail on top. \n\nI turn and get a spot more of his slickness on my nose, which twitches at the heat-then-cool of it. Blake smiles up at me from my lap and grips my tail. I giggle and wipe the fluid away, though his musk clings close, riling me something fierce. I start stroking on my lawbat, who's only softened a little from our new arrangement. I lick up the side, tonguing the soft folds of his sheath--\n\nI squeak.\n\nWith a mischievous look, Blake's tilted his head sideways and against my slit. His pretty muzzle finds its way between my legs. Kisses and licks run from my clit downward, causing me to shift my legs wider. His breath breezes hot through my fur. His tongue dances over my naked lips, then darts into me, drawing nectar from what I can assure is a juicy area.\n\nThen he sets his lips to me and begins working me over like the tastiest peach in Georgia. Every now and then, his tongue flicks, like he's clucking it. I tense and twitch through a couple before I realize what they are: guess my cave is worthy of a few echomahwhatsits too. The thought clenches my passage, even as his tongue wiggles ever deeper into me. \n\nWith all the commotion in my loins, seems I've forgotten my end of the deal. I get back to stroking him. I take his tip into my mouth real gentle-like, giving clumsy licks to that elegant, naked pommel of flesh. Meanwhile, his balls bounce against the top of my paw as I jerk his tight sheath, warm and velvet-soft. \n\nHis body tenses against me as he starts licking with desperate eagerness.\n\nThe rafter creaks as his feet dig into it. His cock swells in my mouth.\n\nI tremble, a hare's breath from going off, giving a frantic suckle. \n\nThe first gush of salty bat seed sprays my tongue.\n\nI squeal around his cock, clutching him close.\n\nAnother gush--thick and sweet--spilling out.\n\nHis tongue whips, clit to depths, wild.\n\nHot seed races down my cheek.\n\nMy feet beat on the floor.\n\nThighs tighten on him.\n\nEyes roll back.\n\n\"Jordan!\"\n\nI plummet into orgasm, thrusting rapid-fire against his muzzle, my entire passage clenching on his dancing tongue, needing him ever deeper, ever closer, ever in my arms, no matter how big of fools we are, I can't help but holler as the passion rises through me like my whole soul's blooming into being. He sprays another spurt, which lands on my breasts, though by the sound his lips are making against mine, I'm giving him a run for his money. My toes curl and I'm aware of the fur between them getting flattened, just as I'm aware of the softness of the pillows and the desperately true feeling of having him in my arms. A few more clenches and I'm spent, shuddering in aftershocks. His breath tingles against my tender lips. Light-headed, I feel the world start to tip forward, but Jordan's there to catch me and ease me down with his wings.\n\nOn my back, I pant up at him. Still on the rafter, the last drips of his semen fall on my thighs. He's swinging front to back, no doubt from my wild movements. I reach up. He swings forward and takes my paw. We stay like that for a moment, fingers woven with wing thumbs, then I nod to the empty half of the bed. He smiles and slips from the rafter and into my arms.\n\n* * * * *\n\nSun's lower now, and the heat's died down. My muzzle traces up his naked chest. Here I am: back in bed, middle of the afternoon, and not complaining.\n\nHe rolls to one side and pulls something from his nightstand. \"I've been saving these for a special occasion.\" The tin shines in his wing thumbs. \"I'd say this constitutes one.\" He wrestles with the tin some, but, just as I reach to do it for him, the top pops open.\n\nA wondrous scent blooms forth. Exotic and familiar, it draws me back to another life, one I crossed a country to escape. \n\nI take one. Pressed into little bricks, they're just the least bit tacky from heat. My fur sticks as if it knows how much I want them. \"Genuine dates?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am. From Arabia and everything.\"\n\n\"How'd you lay wing on them?\"\n\n\"My aunt mailed them here for Yuletide.\"\n\nI chuckle on the notion of a whole family of lawbats divvying up perfect, law-abiding slices of fruitcake. \"That was right thoughtful a' her.\" I sneak another morsel from the tin, holding it up to the light so the little bits of sugar twinkle. I put a little bite into it and the smile I give to Blake. \"She know you're sharin' 'em with a tall, trousered bunny in bed?\"\n\nHis kiss breezes gentle across my lips. \"I could introduce you.\"\n\nI eat the rest of the date, letting the syrupy results mingle with the lingering taste of Blake. \"Awful good, lawbat. You gonna make me finish 'em all by my lonesome?\"\n\nHis wing drapes over my hip. \"Maybe I wanted the sweetest thing from one desert to try the sweetest from another.\"\n\n\"Maybe ah'm sweet enough already.\" I pluck another one from the tin, using my claws so as not to get my white fur dirty. Grandma'd be pleased by my etiquette, though maybe not by my being in and out of trousers all day. I drag the date across Blake's lips, all teasing-like.\n\nThat talented tongue snakes out from his grin, plucking the date from between my fingers. I giggle as he kisses the sugar from my fur. \n\nThe lawbat cottons to my idea, it seems. All grace and care, he's pulling another date from the tin. The smell wiggles my nose. Opening my muzzle, I let him place it on my tongue. Tastes sweet as sugar, but feels dry as desert. I reach for my canteen--a bunny needs more than sweetness to get by. Yet here I lay, falling like a star in the dark of his wings. \n\nI tell myself this delicate moment can last, that he'll say what I need to hear, the one thing liable to keep me. The dates vanish without words. I cuddle my whole body up against him, save for my ears, which lay listening, teased by his every breath.\n\n* * * * *\n\nBy sunset, it’s all gone downhill.\n\n\"Ah gave it to the rightful owner.\" I glance out the window as the color drains from the sky, like the world's wonder turning grey and cold. I don't look at Blake. \"So what's all the fuss about?\"\n\nThe lawbat plants his wings on his desk and leans forward. \"Based on what evidence?\"\n\nI breathe, pinning and unpinning my borrowed badge. \"The weasels weren't lyin': that watch had an echo.\"\n\n\"That wouldn't stand up in court.\" The fading light glances off the badge, spilling across his face like 'yote warpaint. \n\nI flash him a smirk, hoping this'll breeze on by. \"Come on, lawbat. Nobody'd have gone to court if ya hadn't blabbed about it.\"\n\nHe straightens and crosses his wings in a lecturesome manner. \"Six, I let you play sheriff for the day because I trusted you, and then you stole something right in front of me.\"\n\n\"Play nothin'!\" Dropping my paws on the desk, I lean in at him. \"You got any idea how many things I didn't steal today?\"\n\nBlake's ears flick back, biting each word like a bitter fruit: \"It reflects poorly on a sheriff to associate with thieves.\"\n\nPain jumps into my chest, at its heels a shameful burn in my ears. For a moment, I stammer. When I sort myself back together, I find his words have run a dark and steely edge through my voice. \"You oughta reflect less on how you're reflectin'...\" I drive a claw into the desk between us. \"...and more on whether ya want this thief around!\"\n\nMouth open, Blake freezes. Guess I wet the powder of whatever lawyerly argument he had loaded. His muzzle closes and starts working through every feeling he's got.\n\nWe stand quiet. Blood pounds through my ears. Boards creak under my boots as I shift weight, almost as loud as my jaw clenching, sealing in words I don't mean. \n\nHe glances down at the desk, then steps around it. The hot and cold of our chat leaves his tone tempered, but just as passioned. \"I'm not ashamed of you, Six. I want you here. I-I...\" A wing settles on my arm. \n\nI tense, but don't shrug it off. Even I ain't that big a fool. Once I'm a few breaths older and wiser, my paw rises to cover his wing thumbs.\n\n\"Doc and Charlotte smoothed down the ruffled fur.\" He grips just a little. \"You don't have to go.\"\n\nThe evening's events rattled me enough, it's a wonder my voice's not shaking now that I’ve cooled some. \"'Fraid I do, lawbat.\" I unclasp my hand from his, then the badge from my vest. All business-like, reach past him and set it on his desk.\n\n\"Six...\"\n\n\"Hush now, lawbat.” I unfix the pin I hold so dear, place it in his palm, and close his wing fingers over it it. “Take care a’ this, will ya?”\n\nBlake nods. His whole wing trembles like parchment spilled black with exotic ink.\n\nI pull him in tight, holding him soft and gentle, trying not to see the hurt I'm leaving in his eyes. \n\nHe touches my face, like nobody else does, like I'm something breakable. \"How am I supposed to figure us out if all you do is leave?\"\n\nI give him a quieting kiss, paws tracing over wings as I breeze toward the door. \"One day, lawbat. One day.\"\n\n---------------------------------------------\n\n\nThere you go, folks. The second of the two bonus chapters. This one took a little longer than the first, mostly due to length, Anthrocon, and Comic-Con(from whence I'm posting it live)! X)\n\nThe full Sixes Wild novel is available from Sofawolf Press! https://www.sofawolf.com/products/sixes-wild-manifest-destiny\n\nEditors: @darkdragon452, Vendetta, Sillyneko, Thefunkyone\nConsultant: Rikoshi, Slate\nArt: Sidian\n\nFeel free to use this image as a desktop background. ^_^\n\n-Tempo\nhttps://www.furaffinity.net/view/5972000 | https://www.furaffinity.net/view/2964152 | https://www.furaffinity.net/view/8695149 \n\nTo make the text easier to read, you can click the image to shrink it.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny
Bonus Chapter 2: One Day
by Tempe O'Kun
Note: This chapter and the previous start exactly where the novel ends. They shouldn’t spoil the ending, however, so read away! ;D

Blake goes a little pink in the ears. Maybe the song's not so bad after all.

---------------------------------------------



"Come on, lawbat! Don't ya want yer trousers back?"

"I need those! Six, this isn't—- The washer-woman has my other pairs!" A quick wing snatches at them. I'm quicker.

Clothed and decent, I bounce around the room keeping Blake separated from his garments. "And here ah reckoned you had life all planned out. One little bunny razes it all to ruin."

Another miss. The boy'd be better at this game if he wasn't so concerned with keeping a wing over his nakedness. He scowls. "One bunny is all I can abide."

"So you're a one-bunny bat?" Trousers balled up behind my back, I lean down for a kiss.

The pretty fruit bat's ears drop. "By now, you ought to know what sort of man I am." His soft lips meet mine.

I let the kiss linger for a spell, then smile at him. "The sort without any trousers!" I go bouncing down the hall, pants in paw.

The sheriff stifles a cuss, pauses for a thought, then comes chasing after me. We giggle and raise ruckus down the hall. After much grabbing and wrestling, the lawbat makes a bold dive, almost flying, pinning me to the sitting room floor. Wicked thoughts cross my bunny mind about what we might get to out here.

I pant under his scrawny body, his fur and breath soft against me. Some intimate twitches bring a blush to my ears. "Why Mister Blake, you'll just take any opportunity to get atop me, won't ya?"

He opens his muzzle to say something clever, but I seize two pawfuls of his bare rump. He makes all manner of cute batty noises, then tenses above me, staring and stunned.

I follow his gaze to a surprised and, from where I'm laying, upside-down canine.

"Well, good morning, Deputy Harding." I tip the hat I'm not wearing in salute.

After a pause, the old bloodhound raises his teacup in return. "Morning."

* * * * *

My lawbat scandalized, I'm left alone with the deputy, who is showing me an entirely different brand of hospitality. Sipping on a glass of cool peach tea, I wonder just how he brews it. Must chill the tea after steepin' it, then mix in peach preserves without making it thick on the tongue.

"Mah apologies about the little show you got, Harding."

"Don't worry on it, though it'd pay for the two a’ yew to be more cautious."

"Were the lawbat any more cautious, we'd never get him down from the rafters." My paws curl around the cool sides of the teacup.

The old dog busies himself pouring another cup. "I'm willin' to bet you could."

I drown my shyness in a sip. "Some mighty fine tea you brewed me."

"My mama's recipe." Under all that bloodhound sadness, he smiles. "Hurts Blake something terrible, how you keep leavin'."

I take a seat opposite Harding in the sitting room, watching the dust dance in the morning sun. "Doesn't do me any wonders either."

Before the dog can respond, Blake ambles back in a state of dress. Bat doesn't meet either of our eyes as he glances out the window. "Any news, Deputy?"

"Nothin' especially. Got the postal stagecoach comin' through today. Gotta watch out for those quiet days though. Tea?"

"I'm not in a mood for sitting down just now."

I stifle a laugh. I'll have to see about his mood when we get a moment. "You goin' on patrol, lawbat?"

"It's my turn. Though with you here…" He manages to shoot me a grin.

"Hey now! I don't mean to leave the bloodhound in a jam on account of mah sticking around for a day."

"A consideration you seem to lack with me."

"Ya don't seem to mind terribly the jams I put you in." I kick my feet up on an empty chair and smile all sweet-like.

Blake fights down a fluster, crossing his wings. "What do you propose?"

"I'll tag along on patrol. Keep mahself outta trouble while we go around keepin' folk from having a good time." That should suit his fancy.

"I suppose I could deputize you for the day."

"Deputy nothin'! I'm not fixing to be your lackey. No offense, Harding."

The deputy shrugs and takes another gulp of peach tea.

Blake lifts his ears at me. "Six, if you're not a deputy, you'll have to stay out of the way should anything happen." His muzzle dips with a smile. "You really think you can do that?"

I settle my arms behind my head, leaning the chair back. "Reckon you'll just have to make me sheriff too, then."

"...Alright."

The chair bucks wild under me. I about spill onto the floor. "Whoa! Say what now?"

"Nothing in the city charter sets a limit of just one sheriff. You can be one." Those pretty brown eyes narrow on me. "Only for today, mind you."

"I'll be needin' a badge."

He gets a smart little smirk. "That's the easy part."

As Harding looks on, amused, Blake offers me a wing. I take it and rise, following him into the office. Once inside, the sheriff opens a file cabinet and slides the papers back to reveal a strongbox affixed inside. Keys jingle from his belt to his wing thumbs, unlocking it. He takes out an old silver sheriff's badge.

"That belonged to my uncle." He pins it on my vest, then flips something shinier out of the box. "And I believe this belongs to you."

I take the pin, turning it over in my paws. "And here ah'd thought you'd do somethin' all romantic like wear it 'til I came back."

He touches my arm. "Some things I'm not willing to risk losing."

That sets a real blush to my ears. I glance away, at the strongbox. Has some cash in it, maybe a hundred in a neat stack of greenbacks, along with some old journals and a sack of coins. I affix the pin to its usual home, if displaced a bit by the sheriff star. "What now?"

Blake slips on his hat and tips it my way. "Now we walk through town on my route, and keep folks from having a good time."

* * * * *

“Took down those wanted posters of you."

"Much obliged."

Blake looks at me looking at folk who look at me. "With Hayes gone, everybody ought to realize there’s no reward to be had.”

“Seein' as how they gotta turn me in to you, daresay ah could make my escape easy enough.” I wink his way.

"Let's see it doesn't come to that." His wing brushes against me. Would like to have him on my arm, though I got enough eyes my way at present. I settle for walking close to him.

We see to sifting the heap of humdrum the bat's so keen on. Ferret kits tussle and steal a ball of string from each other. More lawsome folk busy themselves with their shops and shopping. Some saddlery horse compliments me on my new gunbelt; neither Blake nor I return his wink.

Being all peaceable bores me some, though talking to the lawbat is a mite nicer than I’ll admit to him. Besides, we've got more hats tipping our way than a windstorm.

"Funny how everybody around you makes a point a' being all law-abiding."

His pearly whites shine a smile my way. "Yourself included."

I shoot him a dark glance from the shade of my hat. "Ah'd take it as a kindness if you didn't remind me."

His wing rises to pat me on the shoulder, but just like that I feel a tug from my gun. Both paws slip to my belt, feeling the gun that's there and the one I need to beat out of the lion Hayes. The pull of their echo, gentle but insisting, diverts me to the saloon.

"Six, isn't it a bit early for drinking?" He follows.

"A mite, yes." I breeze in the doors.

Musk and cheap whiskey hang like whore's tits--still obvious, but covered up a trifle for the late morning crowd. Patrons trickle back in, or never left, sitting all bleary at the tables. The main topic of debate seems to be if they should go across the street to eat lunch or stay here and drink it. I recognize two mutts playing dominos, but they're regulars.

Light glints through the barkeep's prized collection of colorful bottles. Dusts them more often than the windows, it seems. A collie with a lazy ear, he trots behind the bar, tending his flock of firewater and rotgut. His daughter's around, always is. Nice enough gal, sheepish for a collie; pity her position as a saloon girl keeps most folk looking down their muzzles at her.

The cat at the piano has either been tipped too much or not enough, so he yowls into a bawdy tune about an armadillo from Amarillo. Nothing to write home about, but I'm impressed he can rhyme so many words to "bordello." Blake goes a little pink in the ears. Maybe the song's not so bad after all.

We stand off to one side, just taking in the scene. Waiting to see why the echo in my gun yanked me so.

In the corner, a 'dillo in a poncho unrolls from his slump over the bar, bleary-eyed. He rises from his puddle of drool and profanity. By the width of his ears and the narrow of his eyes, I'd hazard he's a little pinch hung-over.

The piano cat continues his shrill caterwaul, until a coffin varnish bottle comes hurtling against his piano, no doubt aimed at his head.

"Ah take exception tah yer song, fleabag." The 'dillo's nose wiggles in fury, claws smacking against the floor. "Ah won't abide no slurs against my kin."

The cat hisses up from nursing the fresh dent in his piano. His white tail spikes out like a bottlebrush. "I'll play whatever tickles my fancy!"

Claws glint in the dim room. On any other day, he'd be a bad sport for that, but armadillos aren't known for responding to the customary exchange of wallops. Wells Fargo hires them by the score because they bring their own armor.

The mutts pause their game of dominos, turning to watch as they cheat each other.

Blake steps forward, but I touch his slim shoulder.

I meet his pretty eyes. "Let me handle this one, lawbat."

He gets a contrary look, but sighs. His wing sweeps me onward.

Two strides and I grip the 'dillo's back armor.  The bumpy texture uneases my paws as I hold him back. I could lighten his pockets, and probably ought to, but I refrain for the lawbat's sake. "What seems to be the trouble, friend?"

"Who in the hell are you?" Beady, half-hazed eyes glare up at me.

I give my badge a little shine. "I'm the sheriff."

Around the saloon, eyes and ears turn to Blake. I take the moment to scoot a table closer to the 'dillo.

The lawbat shrugs. "Provisionally, yes."

My small armored pal puffs himself up, plates shifting, though he's not even up to my chest. All self-important, spits on my boots.

I drive two fingers against his chest. Beady eyes spring wide. Slowly, slowly, he tips. His toes lift off the floor. Rolls from tail to rump to back. His puny arms flail at nothing.

I kick a second table against him, wedging the drunk 'dillo in place. "Ease off, roly-poly."

The domino mutts bark a laugh each. The collie barkeep hides his grinning muzzle. His daughter points her long nose to the back room.

I spare a quick look at Blake, but he's leaning back against the bar, content to superintend from a ways off.

"Now you." I turn to the piano cat.

He squirms as I loom over him like the noonday sun. "Me?"

"Ah think it's time to change yer tune."

I weigh down his tip jar with a silver dollar, then whisper in his pointy ear. I step back, trading a look with Blake, as the piano player settles into his seat, cracks his paws, and sets to tickling ivory.

"Don't think this settles things!" The 'dillo snaps at my heels as I stride past.

"That any way to talk to a fella buying you drinks?" I flip a coin onto the bar. Barkeep jiggers me two hurried shots.

I set both drinks beside the 'dillo, who offers a somewhat less sour expression. I cross my arms, trying to sound like Blake, only manly. "Now, if we're reasonable fellas, this'll be the part where you have a couple drinks and wait for somebody to move these tables." I place a paw on the heavy wood.

His horsey ears swivel back, but his voice has lost its edge. "And if we ain't?"

"Then I tie your nose to your tail and roll you down Skull Creek Gulch." I smile down at him. "Comprende?"

A grumble of agreement.

"Glad to see you're a good sport after all." I resist the urge to goad him. Much. Blake follows me out of the saloon as the cat mewls into the chorus of "My Flabby Tabby Mistress."

* * * * *

"Handled that well." His wing rests on my shoulder as we walk onto the porch of the City Office. Street's empty. Sand and heat are the only things that linger this time of day. His gold eyes glint at me. "Though a trifle unorthodox."

Ears up, chest out, I wiggle the paw that picked my own pocket. "I fancied it up for your sake."

His wing thumbs squeeze my shoulder. "Have you given any thought to becoming a real deputy?"

I tug down the brim of my hat, using my whiskey voice. "You given any thought to a life a' crime?"

"Touché."

"Stop makin' up words, Sheriff. Nobody understands what yer sayin'."

"That's a perfectly valid—- Oh."

I smile, all sweet-like.

His ears flatten. "If I wanted sass, I have foxes aplenty."

"And not a one like me."

A frown sours his fruit bat muzzle. "Don't I know it…"

The door creaks open, letting out a gust of bloodhound.

"Deputy?"

"Howdy, Sheriff." A slow nod, then the dog jostles a beaded bag onto his shoulder. "Reckon I'll head off for the evenin'. Got some business with the 'yotes tonight."

"Oh?" Blake scratches an ear, baffled in the noonday sun. "I didn't remember you mentioning..."

"Came up sudden-like."

I smile. "Think you'd better give the hound his leave, Sheriff. In fact, as sheriff myself, I order him to go. For the sake a' the town."

"Six, you're only sheriff provis--"

"Alright, then. Ah may be late in the mornin' too, just so you're aware." He tips his hat. "You folks have a right pleasant night."

The dog and I trade conspiring glances, then he shuffles down the road with the slightest of wags. Dust swirls after his steps in pale puffs, the air rippling with heat.

Blake squints after his deputy. For a bat, he doesn't seem to mind the day. Has a couple hats, but he tends to lose them--what with his habit of flying and all. "Harding's not the type to just take off like that."

"Well..." My paw closes on his vest, dragging him inside the office. I shut the door after him, in case any prying eyes do brave this heat. "Let me show ya the type ah am..." In the cool shadows, I drop my ears and gaze down at my lawbat.

A nervous chuckle. "Right in the middle of the day?" He nuzzles the tip of one ear, then the other.

I breathe into his ear, hoping he'll take to that. I always do. "Sun ain't the only heat you'd better mind today."

He gets on his tiptoes and kisses me. "Your radiance, madam, outshines it a thousandfold."

I haven't the first clue on what to say to that, so I kiss him back. My arms wrap him up, paws surveying up his wings, under his vest, along his back. All the while, his tongue's dancing across and around mine, robbing me of my wits. We're soon leaning against the wall, muzzle to muzzle, hip to hip. Being taller, I bend my knees a little to hunch against him, obliged as I am to the tingle between my thighs.

Breaking the kiss, he nestles his head under my chin. His wings rub the curve of my muscled bunny rump, groping on my fluffy tail.

I keep up my soft thrusts. "Yer sure panting, lawbat." My paws slide down the front of his vest, undoing buttons all the way. "We'd best get you outta these clothes."

His ears dip, shy-like. "Right here?"

"Reckon this is a fine place." I flash him a grin and bury my paws in his trousers.

The consternation in his eyes fades like stars at dawn, outshone by pleasure as I jerk the loose skin of his sheath. His naked flesh runs smooth, hot, silky in my paws. He moans. Sometime around my stroking down to his sac, his trousers run short of room, so I do the polite thing and undo his fly. In what's becoming a familiar and welcome sight, his pink shaft meets the daylight, still mostly hidden in its chocolate sheath. I stroke the sheath with one paw, teasing at the emerging head with the other. He shudders and, about halfway stiff, he melts like butter against me.

After a spell, I figure this'll be easier from my knees. From down here, his scent runs richer, closer. I feel a rush of nerves and delight at the scandalous moment we're in, the state I can put an upstanding lawbat into with just a touch of my paws. I can feel his heartbeat along the smooth skin of his cock.

He's hard now, his sheath stretched somewhat taut around the base. I used to think it looked like a pony's, but, upon further examination, his looks far prettier. More delicate. Matches the rest of him. I rub it against the soft fur of my cheek.

Blake gasps.

"Good?" I look up, cradling him with care in both paws.

His voice fades to a murmur even as his eyes glimmer down on me. "Yes."

"Good." I notice a glimmer of liquid at his tip and kiss it away. He fancies most things I do to him, but I was a tad rough on him the first time, so I still like to watch his face to be sure. What's more, it's an interesting angle to have on the lawbat: one of the rare moments he can look down to me. I kiss down to the folds of his sheath, then back to his tip, all the while meeting his eyes. Heat rises in my ears, though, and my gaze shifts to the task at hand.

I stroke the sheriff faster, my fingertips skimming over the surface. Now and again, I let my paws do their reloading tricks on his tip, though I know this weapon's already loaded.

"Mmmmmm, Six..." His wing cups my cheek. "H-hold on a minute."

I watch him, wondering if I did something or didn't.

He steps sideways, and I let him slip from my grasp, then let him take my paw. "Come on. I want to show you something."

We scamper back to his bedroom. Good thing he had my paw; I'm liable to run into a wall with his pink shaft bobbing around like that.

"You may need to..." His ears drop as he grapples with stammers. "Your trousers might interfere."

I can't say shucking my pants with Blake sounds like a bad idea, so I kick out of my boots, then slide off everything below my gunbelt.

Blake hops, hooks his wing thumbs into the rafter, then flips over so he's dangling from his hind paws. His cock sways at eye level. Looks at me as if that's normal. "Sit down on the bed."

"Ah see what yer up to, lawbat." I bounce onto the mattress, only to find, for the first time since I hit my head on a fox's doorway, that I'm not tall enough. I can lick the tip of his member, but I'll have to bounce up to lick the shaft. I stick out my tongue, balancing him on it for a moment, then happen upon an idea. Inspired, I grab both his pillows, stack them, and plant my fluffy tail on top.

I turn and get a spot more of his slickness on my nose, which twitches at the heat-then-cool of it. Blake smiles up at me from my lap and grips my tail. I giggle and wipe the fluid away, though his musk clings close, riling me something fierce. I start stroking on my lawbat, who's only softened a little from our new arrangement. I lick up the side, tonguing the soft folds of his sheath--

I squeak.

With a mischievous look, Blake's tilted his head sideways and against my slit. His pretty muzzle finds its way between my legs. Kisses and licks run from my clit downward, causing me to shift my legs wider. His breath breezes hot through my fur. His tongue dances over my naked lips, then darts into me, drawing nectar from what I can assure is a juicy area.

Then he sets his lips to me and begins working me over like the tastiest peach in Georgia. Every now and then, his tongue flicks, like he's clucking it. I tense and twitch through a couple before I realize what they are: guess my cave is worthy of a few echomahwhatsits too. The thought clenches my passage, even as his tongue wiggles ever deeper into me.

With all the commotion in my loins, seems I've forgotten my end of the deal. I get back to stroking him. I take his tip into my mouth real gentle-like, giving clumsy licks to that elegant, naked pommel of flesh. Meanwhile, his balls bounce against the top of my paw as I jerk his tight sheath, warm and velvet-soft.

His body tenses against me as he starts licking with desperate eagerness.

The rafter creaks as his feet dig into it. His cock swells in my mouth.

I tremble, a hare's breath from going off, giving a frantic suckle.

The first gush of salty bat seed sprays my tongue.

I squeal around his cock, clutching him close.

Another gush--thick and sweet--spilling out.

His tongue whips, clit to depths, wild.

Hot seed races down my cheek.

My feet beat on the floor.

Thighs tighten on him.

Eyes roll back.

"Jordan!"

I plummet into orgasm, thrusting rapid-fire against his muzzle, my entire passage clenching on his dancing tongue, needing him ever deeper, ever closer, ever in my arms, no matter how big of fools we are, I can't help but holler as the passion rises through me like my whole soul's blooming into being. He sprays another spurt, which lands on my breasts, though by the sound his lips are making against mine, I'm giving him a run for his money. My toes curl and I'm aware of the fur between them getting flattened, just as I'm aware of the softness of the pillows and the desperately true feeling of having him in my arms. A few more clenches and I'm spent, shuddering in aftershocks. His breath tingles against my tender lips. Light-headed, I feel the world start to tip forward, but Jordan's there to catch me and ease me down with his wings.

On my back, I pant up at him. Still on the rafter, the last drips of his semen fall on my thighs. He's swinging front to back, no doubt from my wild movements. I reach up. He swings forward and takes my paw. We stay like that for a moment, fingers woven with wing thumbs, then I nod to the empty half of the bed. He smiles and slips from the rafter and into my arms.

* * * * *

Sun's lower now, and the heat's died down. My muzzle traces up his naked chest. Here I am: back in bed, middle of the afternoon, and not complaining.

He rolls to one side and pulls something from his nightstand. "I've been saving these for a special occasion." The tin shines in his wing thumbs. "I'd say this constitutes one." He wrestles with the tin some, but, just as I reach to do it for him, the top pops open.

A wondrous scent blooms forth. Exotic and familiar, it draws me back to another life, one I crossed a country to escape.

I take one. Pressed into little bricks, they're just the least bit tacky from heat. My fur sticks as if it knows how much I want them. "Genuine dates?"

"Yes, ma'am. From Arabia and everything."

"How'd you lay wing on them?"

"My aunt mailed them here for Yuletide."

I chuckle on the notion of a whole family of lawbats divvying up perfect, law-abiding slices of fruitcake. "That was right thoughtful a' her." I sneak another morsel from the tin, holding it up to the light so the little bits of sugar twinkle. I put a little bite into it and the smile I give to Blake. "She know you're sharin' 'em with a tall, trousered bunny in bed?"

His kiss breezes gentle across my lips. "I could introduce you."

I eat the rest of the date, letting the syrupy results mingle with the lingering taste of Blake. "Awful good, lawbat. You gonna make me finish 'em all by my lonesome?"

His wing drapes over my hip. "Maybe I wanted the sweetest thing from one desert to try the sweetest from another."

"Maybe ah'm sweet enough already." I pluck another one from the tin, using my claws so as not to get my white fur dirty. Grandma'd be pleased by my etiquette, though maybe not by my being in and out of trousers all day. I drag the date across Blake's lips, all teasing-like.

That talented tongue snakes out from his grin, plucking the date from between my fingers. I giggle as he kisses the sugar from my fur.

The lawbat cottons to my idea, it seems. All grace and care, he's pulling another date from the tin. The smell wiggles my nose. Opening my muzzle, I let him place it on my tongue. Tastes sweet as sugar, but feels dry as desert. I reach for my canteen--a bunny needs more than sweetness to get by. Yet here I lay, falling like a star in the dark of his wings.

I tell myself this delicate moment can last, that he'll say what I need to hear, the one thing liable to keep me. The dates vanish without words. I cuddle my whole body up against him, save for my ears, which lay listening, teased by his every breath.

* * * * *

By sunset, it’s all gone downhill.

"Ah gave it to the rightful owner." I glance out the window as the color drains from the sky, like the world's wonder turning grey and cold. I don't look at Blake. "So what's all the fuss about?"

The lawbat plants his wings on his desk and leans forward. "Based on what evidence?"

I breathe, pinning and unpinning my borrowed badge. "The weasels weren't lyin': that watch had an echo."

"That wouldn't stand up in court." The fading light glances off the badge, spilling across his face like 'yote warpaint.

I flash him a smirk, hoping this'll breeze on by. "Come on, lawbat. Nobody'd have gone to court if ya hadn't blabbed about it."

He straightens and crosses his wings in a lecturesome manner. "Six, I let you play sheriff for the day because I trusted you, and then you stole something right in front of me."

"Play nothin'!" Dropping my paws on the desk, I lean in at him. "You got any idea how many things I didn't steal today?"

Blake's ears flick back, biting each word like a bitter fruit: "It reflects poorly on a sheriff to associate with thieves."

Pain jumps into my chest, at its heels a shameful burn in my ears. For a moment, I stammer. When I sort myself back together, I find his words have run a dark and steely edge through my voice. "You oughta reflect less on how you're reflectin'..." I drive a claw into the desk between us. "...and more on whether ya want this thief around!"

Mouth open, Blake freezes. Guess I wet the powder of whatever lawyerly argument he had loaded. His muzzle closes and starts working through every feeling he's got.

We stand quiet. Blood pounds through my ears. Boards creak under my boots as I shift weight, almost as loud as my jaw clenching, sealing in words I don't mean.

He glances down at the desk, then steps around it. The hot and cold of our chat leaves his tone tempered, but just as passioned. "I'm not ashamed of you, Six. I want you here. I-I..." A wing settles on my arm.

I tense, but don't shrug it off. Even I ain't that big a fool. Once I'm a few breaths older and wiser, my paw rises to cover his wing thumbs.

"Doc and Charlotte smoothed down the ruffled fur." He grips just a little. "You don't have to go."

The evening's events rattled me enough, it's a wonder my voice's not shaking now that I’ve cooled some. "'Fraid I do, lawbat." I unclasp my hand from his, then the badge from my vest. All business-like, reach past him and set it on his desk.

"Six..."

"Hush now, lawbat.” I unfix the pin I hold so dear, place it in his palm, and close his wing fingers over it it. “Take care a’ this, will ya?”

Blake nods. His whole wing trembles like parchment spilled black with exotic ink.

I pull him in tight, holding him soft and gentle, trying not to see the hurt I'm leaving in his eyes.

He touches my face, like nobody else does, like I'm something breakable. "How am I supposed to figure us out if all you do is leave?"

I give him a quieting kiss, paws tracing over wings as I breeze toward the door. "One day, lawbat. One day."

---------------------------------------------


There you go, folks. The second of the two bonus chapters. This one took a little longer than the first, mostly due to length, Anthrocon, and Comic-Con(from whence I'm posting it live)! X)

The full Sixes Wild novel is available from Sofawolf Press! https://www.sofawolf.com/products/sixes-wild-manifest-d...

Editors: @darkdragon452, Vendetta, Sillyneko, Thefunkyone
Consultant: Rikoshi, Slate
Art: Sidian

Feel free to use this image as a desktop background. ^_^

-Tempo
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/5972000 | https://www.furaffinity.net/view/2964152 | https://www.furaffinity.net/view/8695149

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