As the sun rises and the aura settles back on the land, I approach the fields, seizing pink sky and bright clouds in my memory. Last night's dinner, with its silences and cautious laughter, lingers in my ears and on my mouth. Altair lingers far behind, a singular thread of my heart binding us both, but I will not be gone long.

And where is it, pray tell, that you care to go? My ears twitch, angling to a noise that isn't there. I'm tempted to respond, "How's it doing, been a while," but I'd rather keep to myself.

The fields fall behind me, my bag of weapons jostling atop my back, and I ascend into the forests at the other side of the field. I would say the trees are the truest kin I've ever known, but despite how they've accompanied me across these long years, I can't say I'm not put off by their roots.

I follow a cleft in the hills down to a river that comes straight from the meltwater of the mountain, which pools down here in shallow, sun-drenched streams. The call of refreshment entices me and my aching back, so I lay my bag aside and drag myself through the waters and come up still hot, pearls of warm, muddy water in my pelt, and I gasp for air just to fill my lungs. I follow it upstream, to deeper waters, and as I lose my grip on the bottom the colder waters take me away, threatening to push me back downstream. Skirting the edge of the stream, I make my way below a waterfall no taller than I am and thrust myself into the spray of white water and falling torrents. My ears splayed out, I lift my head further, and leap forwards, paddling back downstream to my bag.

It is not unattended to.

"What do you think you're doing?" asks Altair, kicking the bag aside with such force that both the weapons within and the two bags on his back jostle about, filling the air with the rustling of dried plants and the louder clang of our metallic inventory. "Right after you promised..."

"It's not--" I start, but I can't stand the look on his face. It's not anger, which I could tolerate, it's just sadness, and this comes from an actual lost puppy. "You wouldn't understand. You're happy there."

Reproachfully, Altair says, "Maybe I am a little happy. Is that so bad? The rest of the world is always going to hate me for what I am, but here? Maybe I can't vouch for you, but it's nice not to be treated like a particularly plump roast."

"I can't be there. You saw dinner."
"It wasn't bad."

"No. It wasn't bad. That's the thing. It's just quiet. It's quiet, and awkward, and I don't want to think about it, so maybe I just won't," I snarl back.

"So you're going to stuff your ears and run off to get Okari? How noble of you."

"Altair." I growl.

"Hawk, you know what bag you were bringing. The rest of the world is unsafe, frankly unpleasant, and both of us are going to die. I want to pay them back, too, but Okari's chances are probably worse if we go after him. We can atone for ourselves by being the sons we never were--"

"Go back home," I retaliate.

"This isn't about the bones, is it?" Altair asks, meekly. "Everyone does it. At least they're doing it with goodness in the hearts."

I grit my teeth. "No, it's not the bones."

"Then why--" Altair asks.

"I'm a burden on them, Al. Always have been. Always will. When I go in there? That's them inviting a scruffy guest."

"That's unfair."

"It's unfair for them to sit there atoning for the sins of their firstborn son... Okari or no Okari, I was always a burden on them. My way of life isn't theirs. It can't be, it never will be, and... I don't think I can change, Altair. If I ever will, it will be long from now, but I can't change here where everything is the same and every stone is laden with some new memory I have to turn over in my paw."

Altair's ears fall. "I understand, but you have to know you're dragging me into this too."

Undeniably. "We'll go back when all of this is over. I just need a walk."

Altair nods. "Whatever happens, I'll have your back. I think we'll need both of our luck to save ourselves from the jaws of death."

"Charming," purrs a voice in the bushes. I catch the glint of two bright eyes, which I at first believe are Felis, but a Canis steps out of the bushes--and he is not alone. "but I believe your luck has just run out." A cluster of Sentients trail him, well fed and groomed but still with that hungry look in their eyes. Their magic grows out of them, vines dripping from underbellies and massive, bright growths on their backs, barely covered by fabric. Within the throat of one of them, which is semi-translucent, I almost think I see something move...

"We're doing no harm to anyone." argues Altair. "Let us on our way."

One of the Canira rushes forth, stopping just short of throwing herself at me, and cries, "Every day you halfbreeds and cracked filth breathe is another day of damnation for the whole of Omnia!"

Good grief.

"There's more around here." the first Canis says, tasting the air. His yellow eyes ruefully lowering to my level, he decrees, "I smell them on you..."

"That's because there's a whole safehold of us in the area. A massive, dangerous safehold..." I say, raising my head, "Who will be on you any second, and with any luck, they'll wipe your whole group off the face of this sorry, forsaken planet."

Altair stomps on my paw, the pain blistering up and down my leg. He leans in so his face is in mine, looking like he wants to impale me with his hoof again (what can I say, I can hardly blame him). "Hawk! You can't sell them out. They're our family--"

"Your luck, as previously established, has been poor as of late. I do believe the stars have stopped hiding you." the Canis says.

"They'll be arriving any second from our safehold far south..." I yell, and deep in my bag, a certain crystal calibrates to a set of keywords. Altair's ears fall and I see a subtle twitch in his face as his fury becomes theatrical. I hurl the tracker crystal out of my bag, holding it between my bottom fangs, and call to the forest, "Oh, friends and denizens of the Sagarran Bowl, hear my cry of need and come--"

The Canis yanks the crystal, sending my head forwards, and I fall at his paws as I let go of the tracker, which is bubbling with new, nebulous energy, spraying a thin, imperceptible mist of confusion about them. I close my eyes, thankful for the failsafe, and brace myself, at least knowing that they are now magically incapable of entering. Unfortunately, given our vicinity, we're also locked out. Damn!

Gabriel emerges from the woods. He is as flamboyant and obnoxious as when I saw him last, drawn in fabric and prim to the extent no survivor of the Dog Days should be. The magic that so afflicts his companions has only made him more glamorous, and they drown in his light. With a pitying voice like a dozen bells, he cooes, "It is not their fault they are... broken. Let us end them mercifully, friends."

"With a pat on the back and a farewell?" I suggest.

"Oh, it's you. The thieves from one of our first cities... morally and spiritually corrupt. I will have fun ending your life," he says, and draws closer. He smells, overpoweringly, of something so sweet as to make me want to gag. "Tomorrow, we return you to dust."

Altair tries to bolt for it, limbs exploding into action a second too late, but a harsh blow from one of the Felis sends him falling to the ground, where he lies at a broken, harsh angle. I back up, feeling my inventory clatter on my back, but Gabriel rounds on me just as fast. His mouth opens, his maw gleaming with white light, and the energy condenses there and in between his crooked horns before condensing into a singular arrow.

I open my mouth to come up with a retort, but before I've generated a powerful enough line to quell my rising fear and fury, I feel my body give out on me, and I collapse into darkness.

---

I awaken in the same nebulous blue area as my last 'dream', as clueless as the last time I was there. My head has been filled with furze up to the ears, and no matter how I knock myself to the side, shaking myself out, I can't seem to come to my right mind.

"You're in it," says an inexplicably grating voice. "Your right mind, I mean. If you so choose to consider this location... 'right'." A familiar Canis appears from the horizon, growing larger at much too fast a rate for any normal landscape, and heartbeats later he is standing over me, tall enough that I measure up to merely the clean cut of his muzzle. All of his fur is pristine, if plain in coloration, and his eyes are gray, so that he looks dulled out. A memory.

"Who are you?" I ask, certain we've been acquainted.

"I'm you."

My mouth drops wide open. Dumbly, I say, "Stars, I've been misguided. Here I thought I was a Forhaga, but I suppose deep inside I'm some pretentious, snot-nosed, angry Canis with the ugliest face I've ever seen."

"I'm your heartline." he clarifies.

As I lurch upwards, something clicks. The fugue clears from my mind. "You're the voice. You're the Canis. You're--"

"Something akin to that." he admits. "Took you long enough."

"You've been biting my tail since this started, whispering terrible things--"

"I've been assisting you. You've made bad decisions, mind you, bad decisions I never incentivized you to make."

My ears flatten. "Get out of my head!"
"Oh, I've most certainly been trying. Do you think I'd stick around if there was the slightest hope I could be liberated from the confining space of your mind? I spend all this time being a nebulous part of your very being and now, in the dead of the Dog Days, I've finally been drawn to the forefront."

"Does this happen to everyone?" I ask, pacing the blue void.

"Of course not. I'm a particular anomaly of your terrible, terrible mind." he says.

Already, I'm wondering what would happen if I killed him. Would I die? Would he die? Both sound good about now, if not for...

Al.

"Is Altair okay?" I ask.

"Why would I know? I'm in your head. If I had to guess, though, probably dead or soon to be dead. Cults tend to do that to you. Kill you, I mean. It's of little importance to me... I'd be happy to get into a new body. However, if you plan on sticking around, I can offer you a deal." he strides around me, circling with vicious intent. "Cassiver, by the way."

"Can I call you Cas? Cassiver is so pretentious it makes my tongue feel dirty." I ask.

"Absolutely not." Cas says. "See, Hawk, I was a powerful Canis mage in my time, and I can offer you things you may have... a particular interest in. For example, how would you feel about receiving magic?"

"I would say I'm being scammed," I respond. "Either that or I'm about to walk into a trick that will lead to the death of my friends and everyone I care about. Doesn't this go against ghost rules?"

Cassiver shakes his head. "I wouldn't say 'against protocol' so much as 'we generally can't since we're properly integrated into the next being', but your barren state screwed that over tremendously. I suppose it's on the less than proper side, but really, who cares so much about morality? I care more about the opportunity that has been presented to both of us."

"You're terribly wordy." I say, my eyes flicking like Altair's in a bar. There is nothing but blue for as far as I can see in any direction. Please oh please let me wake up soon...

"When I have the luxury of not speaking through the clogged vessels of your head? Why, absolutely. This is a rare privilege. Now, I can give you basic Canis powers, but your magic is supposed to be locked to you, let alone that of another. Your body simply can't even acquire it. As such, I'd have to... override certain systems." I open my mouth, but he responds first. "I'll obfuscate nothing. Whenever you use magic of mine, I would be the primary 'host' in your body for a given amount of time in correspondence with the amount of magic you use. If it's a simple telekinesis, it'll be heartbeats. If you choose to do something more dangerous... then things might be more problematic for you."

"That's my cue to leave," I step away.

He places one paw in my path. "You never have to use it. I'm asking you only to open a door."

"Opening doors is as good as inviting guests in."

"The guest is in the house. I hold within my grip your heart's desire, and I am offering it to you as a hospitality present. Decline as you will, but we both know I can't leave. This will haunt you for the rest of your life, and when the Dog Days are over... you'll never have it in you to open it again. I'll be gone and you'll spend the rest of your life searching for artifacts to cure something incurable, reduced to a petty swindler hated by his family and distrusted by his only friend."

I'm dealing with an experienced con, or at the very least, someone who knows me and my style too well. "What do I do?" I ask.

A barrage of voices sound from his mouth. "Wake up."