Faine stumbled back into the alleyway and used all her momentum to drive her fist towards her attacker. It was too late to draw back her hidden blade at the sight of grey skin reaching for her wrist, but to her luck, Kaspar was quicker. He released his fist from the back of her tunic, clamped that hand around her wrist, and ducked out of the way of her hidden blade.

"Sorry," she muttered once he forced her momentum to stop. "The least you could have done was warn me."

Kaspar grinned wide, his sharp fangs glistening from the moonlight shedding into the dark alleyway. His short white hair resembled the moon itself and Faine had a hard time believing his golden eyes weren't a gift from that moon or the stars that fell around it.

"At least you're putting up a fight," Kaspar reminded her with a pat on the back. Often, he didn't realize his own strength, and with a simple pat on the back, Faine stumbled forward.

Thundering footsteps pounded down the hall of the tavern and the door burst open. Wood splintered, the entire door came off its hinges from the minotaur ramming his horns into the frail construction. Both beasts burst out into the alleyway, coming face to face with Kaspar and Faine, two felirams that didn't have the time or patience to deal with their incompetence.

The minotaur huffed.

"You know, it's not kind to take out someone's door like that," Faine said. "The barkeep will be pissed when he finds out."

She expected a laugh from Kaspar but when she looked in his direction; she understood why. He was already slipping into that killing calm, one curved sword angled in each grip and his stance wide. To compare Kaspar's size to a minotaur would be the best contrast. Although felirams, beasts with horns, pointed ears, and fangs were well built in size, they didn't compare to that of a minotaur.

Kaspar was the exception. He was broad-shouldered, muscled-bred to be every bit of the monster he grew to be. And he never backed down from a fight. He lowered his head at the minotaur and his black horns, thick and tall, their coil barely being the end coming to curl around, followed his movement.

The minotaur moved first. He rammed Kaspar into the opposite building and stone crumbled, both their bodies falling against the dirt floor of the alley. Rotten food and spilled drinks coated the backs of their clothes when they rolled, kicking up dust and the reek of ale.

Faine didn't have the chance to help one of her oldest friends. The gadigator swung a sword for her head and she ducked underneath it. If the many hours of training to avoid attacks didn't prove to be useful...Faine had one or two words for her boss when she returned to base.

Her body moved as it always did, fluently and swiftly. She ducked left, ducked right, swiped her boot along the dirt and dragged her body along to avoid each slice until the gadigator was panting. When she grinned at him, he grinned back. His pointed, sharp teeth that resembled a shark were sharp and in disarray. Some were cracked, others were gone altogether.

In the blink of an eye, Faine was too late to realize why he was grinning at her. The gadigator swiped with his tail, taking her out by her ankles, and Faine fell, slamming against the rough surface of the ground. She coughed in search of air but found nothing, only the clawed foot of the gadigator pressing down onto her chest.

The snap of bone was no friend to Faine, but she knew the feeling. Didn't want to experience it now. She flicked her wrist, and the hidden blade slid out against the inside. "I would advise against that, lilac," the gadigator purred. They were terrible at insults, and jabs at Faine's skin color didn't get underneath it.

No pun intended, she thought.

The gadigator, a beast of sickly yellow skin that dulled in the dark light of the alley, pressed farther onto her chest. When she moved her arm, itching to use that blade, he pressed further. Any more pressure and her ribcage would snap.

Behind the gadigator's head, a shadow appeared. It wasn't one of fright, or backup coming to save the kidnapping of that young woman. Faine recognized the white hair, the dark grey skin, and the broad, square nose.

"Any plans for this evening?" Faine wheezed.

The gadigator narrowed his eyes at her. "Besides killing you, I don't-"

Kaspar placed both his bloodied hands on the sides of the gadigator's head and snapped left in one quick movement. Bone cracked, but it wasn't Faine's. The ease of pressure left her chest when the gadigator fell to the side and his body landed in a heap, face first, in the alleyway. The minotaur was lying only a few feet away, lips blue. Kaspar killed him silently.

The night air was surprisingly pleasant when it restored itself in Faine's lungs. Although the moment of carnage from before filled it with blood and the reek of ale spilled on Kaspar's clothes, Faine was glad she wasn't picking out bones from her chest cavity. Or he wasn't doing it for her.

Kaspar offered down a hand and she took it. She brushed the dirt off his shirt, found it to be sticky with ale, and grimaced. There was nowhere to wipe it other than on her own pants.

"The least you could have done was warn me," Kaspar said, throwing her own words back in her face. "I might've had more time to prepare had I known a minotaur was in the mood to take off my head."

Faine clicked her tongue. She had to look up to meet Kaspar's eye; not only was he bulked but his height extended much taller than the average feliram, as well. Their kind, mostly docile, did not appear to be such. Their horns came in all shapes and sizes and grew to their body's desired lengths. Their beautiful faces held secrets of their breed and their fangs and pointed ears proved they weren't just beasts with horns. Their skill expanded farther than that.

"I had no time at all to warn you," Faine reminded him. "Must you know, they hurled knives."

Kaspar's grin, while unsettling to most, didn't have the same effect on Faine. He looped his arms over her shoulders, broad arm weighing her down, but she supported herself by holding onto his waist. "You must've forgotten to mention the knives. How foolish of me." He laughed, dark and booming, and asked, "What did you find out? Were the beasts we just killed our targets or simply practice?"

"They were the kidnappers." Faine nodded in acceptance. "They were part of a crime group, as we expected, and it's possible they stashed the young woman back at their residence. I suppose we won't face any trouble entering now, you know, since all of them are dead."

Kaspar reached over and tightened the comb on the side of Faine's head that held in a silver strand of her hair. On either side of her head, the strands were pulled back with golden, embroidered combs. The white horns grew from her hairline at the base of her forehead, but hating the sight of that growth, Faine's choice of hairstyle covered up the imperfections.

"We'll report that information to Zebulon when we get back," he informed. "He might not want us sneaking around."

"As if we don't have an entire list of other missions to accomplish. I'd like to get this one over with; it's been long enough."

"You have the saying wrong, Faine," Kaspar sighed. "Impatience is not a virtue."

Kaspar's block was too quick when Faine attempted to pinch his side. He grabbed onto her hand, interlacing their fingers together to not only hold her there but remind her of what was to come later in the evening. Finally, a moment of relaxation after those long weeks of trailing the kidnapping.

Four months to go, and time seemed to slow down. Faine didn't understand it, how she had gone ninety-nine years and eight months doing this; training, being at Kaspar's side, spying, stealing; everything Zebulon's crime operation forced her to do. She did everything, and yet, the last few months were the hardest. Each morning she woke, wondering if it was over after a night filled with dreams that it may be, only to come to the reality she had to get up and face the day's obstacles.

As they walked down the street together and avoided every shady alleyway and every hooded figure that passed in their direction, Faine wondered how long it would be before Zebulon attempted to lengthen their deal. He'd threatened it and it wasn't long ago that he did once more to remind her of its fast approach. Fast. Faine scoffed.

She would miss working at Kaspar's side; he was the one that gave her a life when hers came crashing down around her ninety-nine years ago. Kaspar was there, he helped her through her lover's death, and promised to make the next hundred years go by without a hitch. In a way, he was right. But there was still four months to go.

"What are you thinking about?" Kaspar asked. The end of the city, Isflean, spread out behind them as they passed through the iron gates patrolled by imps. None of them paid the two felirams any heed.

Isflean was home to the high elf family, as well as the wealthiest citizens in the land. Those that only lived in palaces, wore clothes of fine make, and employed mortals as their endless servants. That wasn't on Faine's mind. Not the endless wrongdoings of the people in Isflean, the beasts of half man and the feral that lived north, past the city walls, but her own future. Her own life as a feliram.

Faine sighed. For late summer, it was strange to watch her breath cloud in front of her face. The night was chilled and when they began that long walk from Isflean to the Rising Eternity base, Faine's shoulders sagged. They'd scouted all day, spied, and followed those beasts around, only to kill them in the end. If only they'd done that immediately instead of waiting around for information they already knew. Working as a spy was never perfect.

"I'm thinking about my last four months. What do you suppose I do to make the days go faster?" She asked. A genuine question.

Kaspar took it as such. The disgusting odor of ale covering his clothes reminded her they forgot to remove the bodies, but no one would bother. Dead bodies showed up all the time in the slums, they were merely removed and dumped in a mass grave for someone else to deal with. Either that or...Faine didn't know exactly what they did with all the bodies. The slums had plenty.

"Don't speed things along," Kaspar advised, squeezing her hand in his own. She could barely wrap her fingers around the back of his hand for it was so large. "Live as you have. And when it's all over, promise to come and visit me."

Faine's broad smile was all fang. "I don't think the others would take kindly to having me follow you around like a puppy dog." She made a point to keep her voice low; sinwolves were common at night in the shadows and if they heard any insult about their kind, even one that wasn't intended to be so, they chewed off the hands of their victims.

"That doesn't matter. Besides, we still have four months to go before this is over. We don't have to think about it yet. In those four months, we'll have many missions to complete. So many the time will blend and it won't matter. It'll be over before you know it." Kaspar's words were a little too optimistic for both their tastes, he was fond of taking a disgruntled approach on the subject. Their separation, Faine leaving Rising Eternity, they avoided the inevitable as much as it crept up on them.

The road to get to this point wasn't easy. Faine stumbled more than she walked, but as the years went on, she straightened out and became her own woman. Learned how to train, how to be wise, how to look for answers in the dark, and how to hear when she wasn't actually listening. Kaspar taught her most of what she knew, but the information got absorbed over time through her own mistakes and successes.

Towards the middle of the night, when the base finally came into view through the orange and red trees, Faine's stride finally quickened to a pace that wasn't as slow as she could make it. Zebulon was inside, as was the rest of the operation. No one waited for her, per se, but that didn't mean they weren't looking forward to their arrival.

The excitement needed to wait until the next morning, for Faine's sake. She was covered in dirt and grime, as was Kaspar, and the fickle matter of reporting could wait. That was never how it played out. Zebulon demanded they report right away, but Faine hoped for a change in that one night.

One night she could sleep and worry about the troubles the next morning. Killings and spying, stealing and fighting, it was enough excitement over ninety-nine years that she'd rather be doing that than sitting across from her boss and hoping he didn't scream at her for not doing everything right.

Four more months to go and maybe she could find a way to do something right.