Glaze and Mistral talk to each other a lot at the table in the mornings, and I try to sit next to them when possible, even though I don't understand half of what they're talking about. Their voices are very bright and very, very high, which makes a lot more sense in my head. They remind me of frogs, or rodents, but they're much more pleasant than either of those things and now I feel kind of bad. I used to really like listening to frogs in the morning, with their reee, reee, reee, because when I heard that I knew that I was still alive. I don't think that there would be frogs wherever you're supposed to go afterwards, because frogs aren't divine.

They just are.

"You think he's the murderer?" asks Glaze, slamming her plate. The bread formerly attached to the plate leaves the plate and hits her in the chest, which makes her shrill chirrupy laugh even higher. "No, no, no, no. A thousand nos! Remember the number Silas's Song? Silas is doing all of that on stage alone, so we can assume he's not trying to manipulate anyone. The last line clearly points to him still being in love with her, and he wouldn't have killed his romantic interest."

"There are no other good suspects besides Silas. Emma is four, Robin has almost explicitly been proven not to be the murderer, and the murderer is never the suspicious Canira named after one of the moons, so Procyon's out." Katrina explains, shoving a small curled object back in Glaze's face that continues to emanate faint noise and move slowly. "I know you think Silas is cute, but someday you'll have to accept that he's just a murderer and he loves his many knives more than you."

"The what," I ask, helpfully.

"I think it was the blue guy," Indy says, peeking over our backs.

"We've been over this four times, Indy, the blue guy's the one who died." sighs Glaze.

Indy looks taken aback. "Well, I don't keep up with many kinegraphs. You know all of my budget goes to expensive meats."

"Stop saying that like you're being reasonable." Glaze squints, rolling the 'kinegraph' back up. It ceases speaking, and I grab it with a paw, dragging it towards me.

"You need consumable objects to survive. Armadillo is a consumable meat. Hence, I'm entirely reasonable." Indy says.

"More reasonable than Glaze, who still thinks S-S-Silas is innocent." Mistral teases.

"It's definitely Procyon. They think they're being subversive." Twitch calls from the corner or the room.

Glaze laughs. "No one asked you, did they?"

I only catch Twitch's startled expression for a second before Glaze takes the bread lost in the plate slam not long ago and places it in her mouth, biting down hard. The bread crackles in her mouth, and she bites through the entire loaf, half of which falls back onto the plate. She takes the liberty of chewing very, very slowly. She then proceeds to pluck the last bread from Mistral's plate and places that in her mouth.

"Wh-what? Glaze!" Mistral cries.

I swing around again, heart racing, but Twitch is gone. Glaze swipes the kinegraph back from me and places it on Mistral's plate. "Hey. Mistral. In a week, when they reveal who really killed Ana? I want you to consume this. You're free to start now if you want, since paint and paper, especially magically enhanced paint and paper, take a while to digest."

"I get it! She wants you to eat your words!" I call out.

"Glaze!" Mistral practically falls across the table. "I demand collateral for that! You have to go on a mission--alone-- with the newbie. No, not Rena, the difficult one..."

Gale enters the room. "I heard 'difficult one'?" He takes the basket with one piece of bread, slides the entire plate of meat on top of it, and scoots just in between myself and Glaze, his long snout sticking directly into her face and his dark jowls bared into a scowl. "Hey, thanks, nice to see you. Please gossip about me to my face."

"No one was gossiping about you." Glaze says, primly. "Anyways, thanks, Mistral. That is sufficient collateral. Speaking of missions? I don't know if they've told you yet, Rena, but we're going to move out in a few."

"Move... out?" I ask.

Glaze nods stiffly. "We're going to the base on the other side of town... on the outskirts. There are three in total. Have you noticed everyone coming and going? We've mainly got volunteers at the other bases, but the casualty rates for volunteers is high and it's been nasty over there lately. We can't in good conscience let others continue to risk their lives when we might better serve the needs of the city."

I dip my head back. She's lost me.

"It's been crowded lately and the outskirt bases are nice," argues Mistral. "They're made out of trees, Rena. You'd love them."

"I would?" I ask.

"Sure!" Mistral says. "Would you want to come visit us tomorrow, once things have calmed down?"

"Can I bring Gale?" I ask.

Mistral's wings rise together, "I... guess."

My tail waves. "Okay, then! I'll miss you until then." I say.

Mistral nods, her eyes warm. My wagging slows, afraid I may have said something, but I haven't the slightest what it was.

Rain peeks out from around the corner. "Would Rena and Gale mind coming with me? We need to begin missions for the day."

Gale looks up from his food and the two of us follow Rain downstairs, where Nina and the Canira with several tails and the stripey, curled fur are waiting. I've seen him twice, but he's still an enigma to me. Still, as soon as Gale leaves my side to begin an animated conversation with Nina, from which I catch a comment about "the others already picking on me when they think I'm not looking", I stand next to the stripey Canira and pretend we're best friends.

"How's your day?" I ask.

"Just started," he responds.

"Oh."

Overhead, the ceiling withdraws and sunlight filters down on us, its soft warmth blanketing the room. I walk into the full glare of its light, letting it take me out of the moment and to somewhere far kinder, and the others follow. The stripey Canira heads to the forefront, Nina alongside him, and soon I'm trailing behind as we wander the fields. The wind is at our backs and nothing living, dead, or stuck in the accursed in-between of the Plague victims dares bother us. Save for the sparing conversation between Nina and Gale, no one says anything, and there's nothing to say.

When we return home, I'm not sure how long has passed, but the sun is now behind the building, so that the entrance is draped in shadow. Passing under greets me with a sudden, near disturbing chill, only assuaged when Gale returns to my side. He looks incredibly smug, his ears still angled in Nina's direction. "You were quiet," he says.

"Was I?" I ask. "Was I... not supposed to be?"

He rolls his eyes. "You can be however you'd like, honestly. I was having the most fascinating conversation... you wouldn't believe what this city's like after dark. We should go out sometime."

I nod. "I'm glad someone got you out of your shell, you turtle."

"Psh. It's a protective shell. I'll have you know I'm faster than a turtle and infinitely more good looking." he boasts, with a wave of his tail. "I'm going to get a nap, actually, and some food. Would you like to come?"

I nod. We partake in a quick meal together, though Gale talks all the while about Felis like Nina and how there aren't very many of them and how she said his shadow powers were unusual and how Avery has a history of taking Sentients like us under her wing but not explaining what's going on and how we should be careful. I nod the whole time. "Of course, I like Avery," Gale says, "I'm saying as a general rule we should be vigilant, because we're new here, and we're at the bottom of the pecking order. Nina just got out of being a newbie but she said..."

I turn back, detecting movement, and catch someone turning the corner. "Are you sure this is the best place to talk about this?"

"They can know," Gale says, all his fur flaring. "Oh, they can absolutely know."

"You're an idiot sometimes," I say beneath my breath, still drowsy from the sunshine.

Gale hits my ear with a paw. "You don't want me to lie, do you? Be yourself, or something. What I am is incredibly skeptical of this entire organization."

"Not skeptical enough to leave."

"I'm not ditching you here."

"Why?" I ask.

Gale mutters "ulterior motives," under his breath, but I haven't the slightest clue why. He fakes a yawn and then tries to sneak out from under me. "I need to go... sleep." he says, with a noticeable, suspicious pause. "Meet me out here later, if you'd like."

I don't really know what to do without him, but I don't want to sleep and I don't think I'm supposed to be out in the city alone. I begin wandering the halls. The doors, like a thousand mouths, all open up into darkness. They thrill me each time I open them, but most of them are filled with building guts: gray, raspy machines and noise. Still, something in my chest leads me forwards, a strong impulse that there is something I'm looking for. The ghost of other places overlays the place, and I catch a warm scent in the air, like sunlight incarnate. I begin to hear pawsteps down the hall, which accelerate, and I bolt down the other way. "You shouldn't be here," I call back, rounding a corner, and I hit something hot as flesh but hard as a wall.

"I believe we should be here, given that we live here, unless you'd like to raise objection to such." says Thistle, his reptilian eyes glaring into my soul.

My ears lower. "I'm sorry."

"Were you rushing the halls by yourself? There are no Plague victims in here, Rena." Twitch says, from atop Thistle's head.

"Oh. Good. That would be a problem, because um, I don't want to die today, really." Hesitantly, I manage to catch their eyes. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"We just left a strategy meeting. Thistle and I are moving back out to an outpost in a few days. They love shuffling us around." Twitch says grimly. "Now, may I ask what you were attempting just now?"

"I was just getting... um." I blink. "I guess I was looking around. I was looking for the r-roof?"

"You were running in the opposite direction." Thistle says, dully.

"Well," I begin. "I'm very lost."

Thistle looks to Twitch, who looks to Thistle, and I realize that they're doing the eye thing. My mouth opens slightly and I step forwards, trying to work out what they're saying, but I think the eye thing only works between the two individuals who are doing it. "We'll lead you up," Thistle says, at last, and he steps around me (there's barely enough room in the halls for him to do it) and takes the halls in stride, so that I'm rushing my 'walk' to keep pace. When we eventually ascend the stairs, his horns score another gash in the wall, and we come out atop the building, the sun flashing brilliantly down on the three of us as it sets.

Atop the building stand the trees, so still that the sunlight on their branches falls constantly across, looking like tears of amber. All the leaves are dyed lurid, surreal colors.

"Are you afraid of them, Rena?"

I lied about wanting to come up here because I didn't know what to tell you I was doing, I think furiously. "No." I say.

"Good." Thistle leans down, so that his head is even with mine. Twitch is still looking up to him, the snide glare replaced with a fiercer, nobler expression I've only begun to find words for. In a low rumble, Thistle says, "Everything that has ever lived and ever will live eventually goes back to the earth. You'd do better to die on a hill than to perish mindlessly in the valleys."

"I know. I keep hearing that." I say, and then a spark comes to me like an errant firefly. "Who's... who's Kyan?"

Twitch's face contorts violently. "They already told her."

Thistle's nostrils dilate. "Did you think they wouldn't, Twitch?"

"But..." I ask. "Who were they?"

Twitch adjusts himself atop Thistle's head, his lopsided ears drooping. "Kyan was another Defender who died in an accident due to poor strategic planning. Some of the others still think there was sinister intent, but there wasn't and there's no proof that there was. They'd just rather sit in their petty prejudice than admit they were wrong about anyone, so they'll insist to their deaths that it was a murder. You shouldn't believe a word anyone says about it." he finishes.

I nod, taken aback by the torrent of words. With another, second, slower nod, I step back. "Thank you."

Twitch's eyes are the same green as the leaves, flecked in a spectrum of fiery hues by the sun. "I'm serious. What have they told you?"

"They don't tell me anything."

"Really?" Twitch insists.

"No one even mentions you," I say, stepping back again towards the door.

"Really?" Twitch's voice twists into something violent and desperate.

"I should go." I say, breathless.

Thistle emits a low, warning hum, and I dash back downstairs. Fyera and Ignis are lying in the room together, sitting with an open scroll next to an open fire set into the wall. (I had no idea that was what the smaller holes were for. I thought someone might try to get out of the building by climbing up through the air vent, but even that didn't make sense, because no one was that small.) The two of them are curled against each other, tails and paws set over each other so only the coloration of their pelts marks where one begins and the other ends. My breathing begins to ease up, and I settle down across from them, my tail twitching with agitation.

"Has he still been bothering you?" Fyera asks, turning her head back to me.

"Thistle? No." I say, steadying my shaking paws. An accident. Don't believe what they tell you.

"Twitch," Fyera says.

I guess I don't have much of a choice. "Oh, Twitch. He seemed..." I move the word around in my mouth. "Interesting?"

Fyera cackles. "Rena, you really don't want to be friends with him." Her eyes narrow. "There are a lot of Defenders here you shouldn't trust. We keep some of them around because they're good fighters, like Thistle, but that doesn't mean anything in social relations."

"Oh," I say, with what I hope resembles an understanding nod. My throat is contracting.

"She's right," Ignis says. "It must be a lot for a newbie to take in, but things are complicated here."

"Why?" I ask. "What happened here? One second you'll be teasing and the next you're all so... harsh. I just can't understand it. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"There are some things that are going to take a long time to explain to you, and this is one of them. We can't ask you to make sense of everything now, and we wouldn't want to bias you or scare you. We just need your faith." Fyera's eyes are cold.

"I'll do what I can," I say, but I don't mean it and I just want to be back in the sunlight earlier today. Someone is still coming down the halls after me. Maybe I shouldn't be here. I can't be anywhere else, I can't let go, and at this moment Gale walks into the room and I practically bound over the nearest set of cushions to him. "Gale!"

Gale's fur spikes a second before I land atop him. "Rena."

"How was your nap?"

He yawns, but his voice is raspier than usual. With a dark expression, he proclaims, "Great."

I nod for his benefit. "Thank you." I say to Fyera and Ignis, but my eyes tell Gale we should go now. He nods and follows me downstairs, into the bay where the weapons lie on the walls, sharper now than before. I almost imagine them around my neck and shake the uneasy sensation off of me, like water off my back. "Do you ever feel like you're being paranoid?" I ask.

Gale snorts. "No-o-o. Me?" When he notices that I'm not smiling, his expression slackens. "What's wrong, Rena?"

I tense. The ghosts of a thousand mornings hum in the mornings, and with them, the Sentients who left the alley to protect that perfect calamity out on the streets. Still, there is something buried even deeper here, and it passes between Gale and I now like a shiver. There have been secrets for as long as Sentients have lived here. "Fyera and Ignis were acting weird. So were Thistle and Twitch. Has anyone said anything to you about Kyan?"

Gale shakes his head. "They've said plenty about me, though."
"I don't think it's malicious." I say.

"You don't want to think it's malicious." Gale corrects me, his moon-eyes glistening with that leftover light. He paces the room, passing rows of weapons whose silver blades reflect back his lithe form. "Nina said they're always like this. Elite. Selective." His pacing ceases. "What if they pick you off?"

"They won't. I'm important, for some reason." I shake my head, instantly realizing how petty I sound. "Gale, they won't. Unless... you're worried about you?"

Gale sighs. "Should I be?"

I dart around for answers, but the room offers no revelations. Even the city, beyond us... I can't offer him that either, since its us who are giving ourselves willingly over to it. I shuffle my wings. "What are your... 'ulterior motives'?" I ask.

"I need somewhere to be." he says. "Remember when I found you? Remember how I told you that wasn't my first pack?"

I remember very little about how we met, except for pain, smoke, and a momentary excitement followed by hours of harrowing darkness. "Yes."

Gale nods. "It's been dozens. They don't like me, and the world has it out for single Sentients. There was an old story I heard when I was young, in my third pack. It's about a Sentient who lives alone. She spends her whole life speaking to the trees, pacing her house, decorating and redecorating, arranging old and bitten figures on the mantle... and then she die. Her belongings are picked over by thieves and her bones are picked over by even more unsavory beasts."

He pauses for a while, and I realize abruptly that this was all there was to it."What's the point?"

His face cracks into a twisted version of a smile. "The lesson is don't, Rena. If I want to live, I'm going to need allies. If that's all I get, well... I'll take it."

"You're the closest ally I have in all this." I promise him.

The lines of his face, almost masked in shadow, suggest he might want more than that.

We return upstairs together, to a quieter dinner, although the other Sentients smell of the woods and fields. Mistral eagerly speaks with Indigo about various tricks they've played on the denizens of the city.

"Of c-c-course, I put it right back, so she didn't panic, and then I offered her a new candle out of my funds, because I was worried she might be cross with me... I'd n-never try anything mean," Mistral says shyly.

"You've got to be confident about it," Indy says. "I also know a few civilians--"

"--a few? We're talking to the Canis who's memorized the entire city's birth dates and favorite foods, aren't we?" yells Fyera over the table. This is followed by raucous agreement.

Indigo gives us a humble smirk. "Maybe. So, I once caused the Loren's store to smell strongly of skunk for a full day... she found it funny a year later, but at the time she was tearing up for a different reason. Then, back when Aylas was on the force, we illusioned all the produce in the market rotten. This was good, but when I proceeded to eat several dozen 'rotten' vegetables in the center of the city, it got even better."

"Half the city thinks you have guts made of iron." Blossom says.

"Indy does have guts of iron." argues Mistral.

Auma looks up from her half-empty plate with mild amusement. "If you're looking for incidents you shouldn't have gotten away with, Indy, there's always the time you almost brought a building down by teleporting an entire herd of deer into it."

"You managed to teleport a herd of deer into a building by accident." Gale practically roars.

"Yes." Indigo says. "I was trying to open up a wall sized portal into a house... very important reason I can't remember right now..."

"He was on probation until he was eight." finishes Auma.

"I was on probation until you all realized that you needed me." Indy says back, tongue lolling. "The incident was thirteen days before I turned eight."

"We need everyone here." Auma responds, with a dignified nod to the entire group. I can almost see them all beam, although Mistral--Mistral!--casts a cold glare in Twitch's direction, which is gone so quickly I could've imagined it.

But you didn't, says Gale's expression when our eyes meet again. "I'm going to bed," he says.

"About that time," Indy concurs. "Want to walk to bed, buddy?"

Gale's face convulses painfully as Indy comes to stand besides him, his waving tail and broad smile contrasting Gale's horrendous hunched posture and ruffled fur.

"Taking Gale to bed this early?" asks Twitch.

A silence falls like a thick coat of snow on the group. Gale slips past Indy and straight to his room. Indy looks up to Twitch. "I suppose he's not interested."

Once Indy eventually leaves, the room grows quieter still, and everyone else filters out. The fire flickers out in the wall, and I follow the stragglers back into the room, guided by Mistral's wing into the bedrooms. They sleep in strict silence, most of them set far apart from each other, and I long for an ancestral closeness, certain that once upon a time this family was closer.

"If someone did something... on accident... something really bad. You'd forgive them, right?" I ask. "If they didn't mean it?"

"Why? Did you break something?" Glaze asks.

"Not yet." I say.
"This is a very interesting hypothetical, but some of us are trying to sleep," Rain says.

"Agreed. Good night, Rena." Fyera says, gruffly.

"But--" I start.

"Good night, Rena."

I stand alone in the dark and settle, slowly. Blossom watches me from a corner. I shuffle desolately in my bed, spreading my wings wide as I can, and just manage to hit Glaze's side. She nudges herself under my wing, so that she's just between Mistral and I. "Are you letting go of me?" Mistral asks.

Glaze scoots further under my wing, but her playful chirrup fills the dark. "You can come over here." she offers.

Mistral huffs, but it's teasing. She scoots over to our sides and her pale eyes look over us both with unexpected warmth. I feel it flood my wingtips, causing me to curl in on myself, and still there's an empty space under the other wing. An old story simmers in the air, several generations of grief intertwining... the trees above, the bones below, the ghosts living in our bodies, both in our heartlines and the Sentients we used to be.

Sometimes you just need to close your eyes and sleep.

(A/N: I apologize for being late. Have some extra woofer to brighten up your day.)