Chapter 11-Acceptance

The stable was pitch-black inside, which is never good camouflage for a white wolf. The marble floors—only the best for the Tisroc—were also not helpful, as they were all but impossible for Canisp to walk on without her sharp nails clicking loudly; though, as she would soon learn, she needn't have worried about making noise. Vesta was perfectly calm in her box at the end of the stable, but Canisp was still determined to discover who the intruder was, at the very least.

She crept down the wide hallway, tail tucked tightly between her legs. Once she reached the stall door she shifted silently to human form and stood, flattening herself against the wall and attempting to peer in. Unfortunately, the cloaked figure was standing against the same wall on the inside, meaning that Canisp had an excellent view of Vesta's rump but could see nothing of the stranger. Vesta glanced up and saw Canisp, but far from being glad to see her she seemed to almost resent her presence. She turned back to her visitor with an air that said quite clearly, "I am going to ignore you, in the hope that you will take a hint and leave."

Nonplussed, Canisp decided that it was high time she learned what was going on. Clearing her throat, she said loudly, "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Canisp had been ready for any number of responses. The one thing she hadn't anticipated, however, was…nothing. It was as if she hadn't spoken. The person in there was either singularly difficult to startle…or had known she was there all along.

She gave a low snarl. Canisp did not appreciate being toyed with. She wanted to know who this intruder was, what they were doing, and why exactly they were ignoring her. Her natural defensive and territorial instincts—what Dinaric called the inherent aspects of a semi-lupine mentality and she called being irritated—were flaring up in full force. At the same time, however, the intruder hadn't hurt Vesta, so kicking down the stall door and putting a knife to their throat was probably not the best course of action.

"Look," she said. "I know you're in there. Will you please just explain what's going on here?"

There was no response.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Canisp muttered. Exasperated, she pushed away from the wall and glared through the bars. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Finally, the cloaked figure looked up. It was nothing more than a cursory glance, a sort of automatic response. Then he did a double-take and scrambled back, abject terror on his face. His fingers fumbled for the bolt of the exterior door, but he jerked them away when Orion dove out of the night sky, flared his wings and landed on said door. The Eagle had given the boy's hand the kind of look normally reserved for prey.

The young man's panic set off alarm bells in Canisp's head. There was no reason to react that way if his intentions were innocent. A clear conscience would leave him no cause to fear her.

Orion cleared his throat. "Ah… Canisp? Is there a lamp over there?"

Canisp glanced to her left; there was an oil lamp mounted on the wall. "Yes. Why?"

"Your eyes," Orion explained. "I think they're scaring him."

It took Canisp a few seconds to understand. "Oh!" she exclaimed. She was so used to being around Wolves and other Beasts that she'd all but forgotten the fact that glowing green eyes were not precisely the norm in human society. She quickly lit the mounted lamp, made of faintly pink glass etched with the figure of a rearing stallion. Warm light flooded the stall, and the young man relaxed slightly as the darkness vanished and her eyes returned to normal; or at the very least, as normal as they ever were.

"Are you going to answer me?" she demanded. The young man looked disproportionately terrified by this question, cringing and bowing deeply but making no answer. Canisp's hand drifted to the hilt of her knife. "Tell me your name," she ordered, stepping forward.

Before she could take so much as a single step, however, Vesta did something highly unexpected. Giving a violent snort, she half-reared, lashing out warningly with her front hooves. Canisp jumped back in shock and Vesta calmed slightly, but she still pranced restlessly and kept a distrustful glare fixed on the changeling in whose hands she had once placed her life.

Concerned by her agitation, the young man raised his hand, opened with the palm towards Vesta. Somehow, this simple action seemed to drain the tension from the horse. She relaxed, slowly stopping her nervous dance, and touched her nose softly to the boy's outstretched hand.

"…Vesta?" Canisp said uncertainly.

Vesta looked around guiltily and walked to Canisp's side, pressing her heavy head against the changeling's shoulder and letting her pat her neck. Inevitably, irresistibly, however, her head turned back to the stranger. With a lost little whicker, she lifted her foot, hesitated, put it down again. She looked torn as she turned back and forth between boy and changeling. Finally, she seemed to steel herself and crossed back over to the boy, standing in front of him so that he was sheltered between her bulk and the corner of the stall. Her head was drooped submissively, her eyes pleading as she looked at Canisp, but her stance was still defensive.

Canisp sighed. "Get out of the way, Vesta." There was no heat in her voice as she gestured Vesta away, but the mare still refused to move. She gave a low, plaintive whinny, as if to say, Can't you see I can't?

"Canisp," Orion began gently, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

"It's all right, Ori, I understand." Looking Vesta in the eyes, she slowly slipped off her sword belt. Vesta's eyes narrowed. She flicked her ears back and shifted into a more offensive stance, relaxing only when Canisp hung the knife on the manger and stepped out of arm's reach.

"There," Canisp said soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt your friend." Once more she raised a hand and motioned for the horse to move; and slowly, cautiously, she did.

Up close, in the light, the boy didn't look like a threat. The black cloak he had been wearing lay discarded on the floor, and it was the only garment he wore that wasn't worn, frayed, and/or patched. His feet were bare, his eyes wide and frightened, and Canisp found she was softening towards him in spite of herself.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He flinched at being addressed and dropped to his knees so quickly it looked like his legs had been cut from under him. And in that action, Canisp knew him.

"You!" she said in surprise. "I've seen you before! You wouldn't talk then, either," she remembered. Looking rather irritated at his continued silence, she told him, "I'm not going to eat you, you know. There's a difference between a beast and a Beast, no need to act like I'm… feral. Just because I can transform doesn't mean I'm an animal." When he didn't respond, she snapped, "What is it with you? I'm not a werewolf, either! I should think even you could tell the difference! I'll have you know-"

Orion cleared his throat pointedly. Canisp cut herself off to look at him, puzzled, and he inclined his head, indicating something behind her. Before she had time to be alarmed by this, a soft voice spoke up.

"He can't hear you, my lady."

Canisp jumped, but she was familiar enough with Ilona's voice that she didn't panic at the sound. She turned to find Ilona, pale and shaking slightly, hesitating just outside Vesta's stall.

"Ilona?" Canisp said. "What are you doing here?"

Not meeting her eyes, Ilona said, "It's… it's nothing, my lady." Indicating the kowtowing slave boy somewhat awkwardly with her left hand (her right was still in a sling), she said, "But he's deaf, he can't hear you."

"How do you know that?" Canisp asked incredulously.

Ilona gave a weak smile. "I'm a slave, my lady. I know everything." This was something she had said many times, but rather than wearing the teasing grin that usually accompanied the statement, Ilona seemed close to tears.

"Are you all right?" asked Orion. He hadn't looked away from the boy; he was watching him with a vigilance only a hawk could manage. But his concern was clearly for Ilona.

She took a shaky breath and drew herself up. "I'm fine."

Canisp didn't believe her for a minute, but she let it go, turning back to Vesta's visitor. "So he's deaf?" she asked.

"That explains a lot," said Orion, looked severely embarrassed.

"Yes," said Ilona, slipping into the stall and bolting the door behind her. "His name is Hosni." Looking apologetic, she added, "And he's probably scared out of his mind right now, if you don't mind me saying."

She was right; Hosni was quivering, forehead in the straw on the floor. Canisp felt a pang of guilt and moved toward him, but Vesta got there first. Hosni looked up and smiled when the chestnut mare nudged him, then looked fearfully at Canisp. She held up her hands and smiled reassuringly, and he got slowly to his feet, pulling a piece of parchment from his sleeve. He picked up a charred skewer from the floor and glanced back up at Canisp, as if asking permission. When she granted it with a curious wave of her hand, he leaned back against the wall and continued his sketch.

"Well," Orion muttered, "At least we know what he was doing."

Canisp nodded, rather taken aback. "Never would have guessed," she admitted. Turning back to Ilona, she said, "Which brings us back to: What are you doing here?"

Ilona flushed and looked at her feet. "I… no reason, my lady."

Canisp waited. Eventually, Ilona sighed and said, "I was watching you from the window, and I saw you sneak into the stable. I know you don't like it here and I didn't know if something had happened, or…I just thought…I mean, I assumed…"

Canisp had gone very still. "You thought we were running out on you."

Ilona nodded shamefacedly, and pity welled up inside Canisp. Ilona was too kind, too bright to have never had anyone willing to stand by her; yet it seemed that was the case.

"Ilona." Canisp placed her hands firmly on the girl's thin, strong shoulders. "You're a part of our pack now. Part of our family. We are never going to leave you behind."

"Frankly, I'm insulted," said Orion, only half-joking, treating Ilona to his trademark smile. "As if we would abandon a flock member."

Ilona didn't look convinced. "I'm…only a slave, my lady…"

Canisp squeezed her shoulder. "Ilona," she said softly. "Not to us."

Slowly, the expression in Ilona's eyes began to shift from disbelief to wonder. "What do you mean, I'm part of your pack?"

Canisp, noting the lack of an honorific with satisfaction, smiled. "Just that. There are few bonds as strong as those of a pack, Ilona. Our pack—our flock," she added, nodding to Orion. "You, me, Vesta, Ori—we're a part of each other. And once any one of us cares about someone, they become a part of us as well. Even if they don't realize it, we look after them just as fiercely as we take care of each other."

"…Any one of us, my lady?" Ilona asked, but she wasn't looking at Canisp.

The changeling followed her line of sight. She was looking at Hosni frowning slightly in concentration as he sketched; but more importantly, she was looking at Vesta, who was watching the boy with unmistakable fondness in her great black eyes.

"Yes," said Canisp after a long pause. "Any one of us."