[+]

The 26th Morning

Mei felt soft. He felt like he was lying on flowers in bloom—an irresponsible, childish thing to do, but luxuriant, and he couldn't say he'd never done it. Had his morals slipped, now that he was so far away from everyone? Perhaps where there was no shortage of flowers, there was no need to be considerate of others. Perhaps being nearly alone was a good thing.

He opened his eyes, gained awareness. Oh! In addition to the moss bed he'd gone to sleep on, he was wrapped all around by the soft body of a sleeping wolf. That explained it!

Mei chuckled. He hadn't even registered Gabu's scent as especially strong. This really was his new normal. He wouldn't say so to Gabu, who'd once taken a similar comment the wrong way… but it was nice to actually enjoy the scent of the creature he shared his home with.

Mei admired the contortion Gabu had resorted to in order to curl himself all the way around Mei, his tail filling the last gap. The wolf's throat was exposed with one paw drawn up against it, toes dangling. Mei's haunches pressed against Gabu's abdomen, yielding and lightly furred. It occurred to Mei that Gabu had been hunting last night—that his abdomen was probably full of gnawed-up animal flesh, passing slowly through his intestines…

He remained still. He didn't move. The thought didn't bother him nearly as much as it once would have. Mei lay there in a pit of wolf-flesh, admiring every piece of his cavemate. He drew a deep breath and exhaled. He let himself rest in luxurious comfort a while longer.

Gabu certainly looked happy. Mei wondered what that meant.

It would be a nice thing to simply stay until Gabu woke up on his own. On another morning, Mei might have done just that. But he knew the wolf had been out late into the night. Mei was used to meeting his friend at dusk and retiring together, talking over the day's vicissitudes. But last night, he'd gone to bed alone. It had been lonely—Mei acknowledged that. He'd talked with Bepo a little before dark, but the vole's experience seeking out mates had been so alien from what Mei knew that he couldn't say the conversation had been of much value. Darkness had been an unpleasant visitor, for once. Mei had recalled snippets of his aimless, miserable winter. The world had looked a little like that as the sun went down. He'd gone to bed remembering the winter's smells.

Now, here was his cushion again. His wolfpillow. His true and faithful friend. Mei was happy to soak in the presence of him, and his obvious love, for a while. But if Gabu hadn't returned until midnight, or even later, there was no telling how late he might sleep.

Carefully, ever so tenderly, Mei extricated himself from the ring of affection. He stepped as though he were walking the side of a cliff; then, having escaped Gabu's soporific embrace without waking him, Mei left the cave and had some grass and clover. He granted himself a small luxury and had a few flowers, too.

Turning east, he saw the sun coming up. As he occasionally had in the past, Mei fancied that he could actually see it moving, ever so slowly. It was shrouded by clouds. He imagined his mother's face in the sun's ring, and to his mild embarrassment, Mei found himself murmuring to her, imagining her responses. He let his embarrassment fall away as he had a full conversation with the memory of his mother. He told her what he'd learned about the wolf who'd killed her, and about the others from the same pack he'd befriended. He told her that he'd given them his blessing for a single litter of pups. Just one. Don't hate me, Mother. I couldn't condemn my best friend to live and die childless. He wants children, Mother, I know he does. I had to let him or I couldn't have lived with myself.

Me? Well, as it happens, Mother… I don't care about children one way or another. I know it's good to leave something behind. But I feel like… I feel like I'm doing just that.

"Mei?"

He jumped, startled. The voice was a comfort, even if it had caught him off guard. It was good to be with people, not just memories. But it was Lala's voice, not his mother's, and not Gabu's. How strange that he'd found it comforting.

"Good morning, Lala."

She smiled—an artificial smile, but he couldn't claim it wasn't well crafted. "Good morning!"

"I woke up to find Gabu…" Mei gestured with his chin. "All around me."

"He cares for you."

Obviously. "He seems happy."

Lala's whole face lit up, ears perched higher than Mei would have guessed they could go. "Does he?"

Well, this was fairly clear. "So you've done it, then. You've mated with him."

Lala turned, stepping at an angle, layers of cheek fur flowing down her neck. "Does it show?" she asked smugly.

Mei didn't deign to answer that. "Do you think you're pregnant?"

At this Lala laughed lightly. "Do you think that's an appropriate question to ask a lady?"

Mei stared. He honestly didn't know what was or wasn't appropriate to ask a wolf. But he asked quietly: "Are we packmates, or are we not?"

Lala's ears fell and she regarded him seriously. "It's hard to say. I've had a good sense for it in the past. I feel good about this coupling, but I was just on the edge of my cycle."

Cycles. "I'm not sure what that means."

Lala paced forward, passing Mei as she reached him. "It means… if this litter is born, it will be a late litter. Well into summer. There won't be much time to rear them before winter strikes."

Somehow, this hadn't occurred to Mei. He blinked as the silver wolf's tail brushed his face, then turned to follow. "Will they be healthy? Do they need to go off on their own before winter?"

Lala looked back and smiled broadly, and this time it seemed genuine. "Normally? Yes, they would! But here, in this mad, wild place?" She laughed deeply, and it carried. "Who knows!" She turned toward the cave.

Mei stayed outside while Lala went in. Had he made a terrible mistake? Had Gabu? Had the wolves squandered their one chance at offspring on a mating too late in the year? Would most of the pups die? Would Mei feel forced to give them permission for… a second chance?

How long would this go on?

From around the hill came rough, rasping sounds and a friendly growl. Mei looked up to see the wolves sniffing, nuzzling each other. Mei approached, and Gabu looked up. "Mei! Good morning! It's good to see you."

Mei forced down his fears and walked over. "I liked how you were curled around me when I woke."

Gabu looked sheepish. "I wanted to make up for missing you last night. You were asleep when I got back… and you looked so lonely…"

Mei grinned, hiding his doubts. "Maybe a little. But I kept in mind that my best friend was having a honeymoon. I take it things went well?"

Gabu nodded more than once. "We killed a boar! Do you know what boar are, Mei?"

Mei hadn't thought there were any around here, but… "Yes, I've heard of them. Congratulations. So you've eaten well?"

"Very well, thanks!" He looked fondly at Lala. "And I think Lala and I have gotten very close."

"We're fully mates now," she confirmed. "Thank you, Mei, for letting me have him. For the night."

Mei nodded, rather than say 'You're welcome'. She wasn't, really. Was she? "I guess you'll be around until the next hunt, then?"

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it! I understand there are some… intrepid individuals to meet."

Oh. Yes. "I have to say… I'm of two minds about this," Mei admitted.

"About making friends with the locals?" asked Lala. "But wasn't that your ambition?"

In Lala's world, everyone needs an ambition. "Yes, but… I'm worried. It was a whole group that met us, and it's going to grow… and they're all expecting to be safe from hunts…"

Lala exchanged a glance with Gabu. "But we have options, don't we?"

Gabu explained. "I think Mei is worried that if we promise safety to all our friends, it would be like… threatening doom to everyone else."

"I see," said Lala. "And then every creature in the forest would feel trapped into being our friend."

"That's what I'm afraid of," put in Mei.

Lala smiled, and her smile was crafty. "Is that bad?"

"Well…" Gabu considered. "I'd say it hardly counts as friendship if they're not being honest about it."

"And if they are?"

Mei answered her. "If someone tells us nose-to-nose that they're only being friendly with us to avoid being hunted? Then you definitely can't call that a real friendship." Did he need to explain further, or would the twisted she-wolf get it?

Lala stood in thought, but seemed to understand. At least she didn't press the issue. "So, what can we do? Refuse to offer safety?"

Gabu looked stricken. "But… isn't that the main reason they came to us in the first place?"

"Is it?"

Gabu didn't answer, and Mei didn't choose to. Instead, he started walking down toward the brook. He knew he must have a severe expression on his face. It was how he felt inside.

The 26th Day

Lala didn't mind leading, as she had all day yesterday. It was her chance to show off what she'd learned; what she'd wrought herself into. Leading was her chance to shine… or rather, since she endeavored always to shine, her chance to shine on something particular and illuminate it. But she also liked being led, when there was someone leading worth half their bones. She'd always enjoyed being directed by hunt leaders—by Giro and Bari especially. It was inspiring to know that there were wolves around with purpose. The world was nice enough on its face, but to imagine any given wolf in it with purpose—! …To imagine the prey, the birds on the wind, the wind itself, the trees, the clouds—all with their own individual purpose! That was to impregnate the world. That was to set imagination aflame.

That was what she was doing here. Being led. Standing ready to help when and if help was needed. Tracking down Gabu was looking like the best decision Lala had ever made… but she wasn't yet sure. It could still all be an embarrassing failure. The key moment had yet to resolve… and that excited Lala. She was excited to be in a place that probably wasn't, but just might be, the most important place under the sun right now.

Gabu's project. This was Gabu's project… and, if she was being fair, the goat's project too. (And Leto's, most likely, but that was viewing things on another level.) Lala was following for now. Whenever the topic of friendship with plant eaters came up, Lala deferred to her companions. She didn't spend her energy thinking up ideas that might take things in the wrong direction. She was made for working within society to get the results she wanted—she wasn't made for transforming what society meant. Lala wasn't a transformational thinker… but she knew enough to respect one when she met one.

So she kept sweetly asking questions and nodding and going along with what her companions dreamed up. For now, they were her beacon. They were shining. If she could help their efforts by keeping Gabu fed, she would pour herself into that. If she could put things in context by pointing out the goddess's role in all this, it was her privilege to do that. And if she could help by just being another wolf, another meat-eating body to scramble up into this crazy experiment, so that it wasn't all about Gabu… she would do that too.

She'd even go above the rise on it. If one more wolf in the project was good… a whole litter of them must be even better! Lala would gladly bring new souls into the world for the third time in her life if it meant bringing this project to its full fruition.

The sun was covered in clouds today, but she felt like it was in full force. As the trio paced swiftly to the brook, Lala felt like the stories of the future were shining on her back, illuminating her pelt, putting spring in her step. This, though. This was where helping from the back became perilous. This was the first juncture at which she might actually screw things up.

Lala didn't mind being nervous. But she didn't relish it like she did being fooled, or surprised. Rather, she looked forward to when it was over—when she could look back and smirk, or sulk, over what had happened. She hadn't handled her first conversation with Mei very well, and she was worried that could happen again. Lala didn't know how to talk to people who weren't wolves. Birds, she'd occasionally chatted with. They were out of her reach, she was too big for them to hurt; they were outside each other's purview. That made things less awkward. But Lala had never tried talking with her prey since one ill-judged pursuit in her adolescence. She'd just distracted herself by being witty, and the rabbit had slipped away mid-sentence, leaving her doubly unsatisfied. Now she was about to go that route again. Fate and her own instincts had led her down this road. She was going to have a chat with her food.

Smile, Lala. Just smile. Remember how silly and strange this is. The rest will—hopefully—come on its own.

She couldn't make herself believe it would come naturally, though. There was nothing natural about this.

No one was at the brook where it met the woods. The air wasn't empty of scent, true, but…

Well, Lala didn't need to say anything. She just looked back at her companions—nose high, tail gently waving, as if to ask, What do we do now? Just keep smiling, Lala. Keep acting like this is no problem… and it won't be.

"I sort of thought they'd be here," said Gabu.

"We can wait and see," Mei suggested.

"Or we can track them," suggested Lala. She was already starting to sort out deer from the other aromas on the breeze. They'd said three deer had been in charge of it all.

Gabu sat abruptly and thought. Lala watched him. Let him percolate. His brain, slow though it might be, was a better weapon for attacking this problem than her own. And she was no stranger to waiting. Her belly was full, and the day was long.

"I'm not sure tracking them would be such a good idea," decided Gabu. "What do you say we wander by the brook and let everyone see us? With any luck, they'll come to us!"

Mei nodded with a content grunt. Lala did the same. This was nice. She liked being led, and it amused her that Gabu was her leader.

It wasn't yet easy, talking with the goat present. But Lala started to learn, and for his part, the goat—Mei—seemed to be warming up to her. So talk sprouted slowly, but developed as the morning passed. They wandered by the brook; they drank, and washed, and chatted about what these two fast friends had been doing when the cotillion of animals approached them two days ago. This led to Gabu telling how he'd taught Mei the Song of the Mother Wolf, which of course Lala knew. She'd sung it to her own nursing children, once upon a time! So the males performed it together, and she sang along on the mother's parts, which might soon be particularly appropriate. Would this summon the deer from their holt, she wondered?

In any case, she was pleased to find the goat was capable of holding a solid melody in the face of her harmonies. That showed character. She found that she was having a lovely time.

Lala sang the Song of Sly Love for her companions, and the old Hunt song, on which Gabu joined in merrily. She was halfway through the Song of the Moon, counting her own special verses, when leaves crunched nearby and the music quailed in her throat. Was—? Yes, those were deer shanks passing through the undergrowth! Lala turned to face them and her companions did the same. Remember, Lala. Smile.

They appeared. The one in front seemed to have a definite purpose in the way he stared at her. It was palpable. Good—Lala loved purpose. She saw it reflected in the other hind and hart, and yes, there were squirrels riding along. Rabbits shuffling through shrubs. Was that a muskrat?

"Peace," said the leading stag, in a deep voice with as much purpose as Lala could ask for. "We come in parley."

The hind and hart behind him bowed; the other animals looked nervous. Lala counted quickly—a pair of leaf warblers overhead, as she'd been told, but three squirrels, not two. Two rabbits, not one. Yes, this group had grown.

"Hello again," said Mei.

"It's nice to see you," said Gabu.

There was a tittering of introduction. "Well, here we are," said the downier stag in a rougher voice. "And you must be Lala."

Lala sat back and nodded carefully. "I'm Lala." She chose not to give her full title this time; it would seem pompous. Her tail puffed up, but she forced its tip to remain down.

Each of the animals gave its name, and Lala kept careful track, committing them each to memory. Gabu and Mei hadn't remembered all the names, which had irked her. The birds were Haburo and Hatsu. The squirrels were Taffet, Fujiko and Kiput. The head stag was Coryn of the heavy mantle, accompanied by acolyte Wilhelm and sister Bedelia, respectively. The muskrat was Itsuko. The rabbits were Ringa and Akiara. She kept herself from shaking her head, keeping it to an ear twitch instead. So many strange names. But Lala was skilled; she repeated them to herself and kept them straight.

"I would have imagined you as Coryn's father," she said kindly to Wilhelm, hoping it sounded complimentary.

The older stag chuffed. "Our folks don't keep our fathers. We rut; we leave."

"But you have acolytes," Lala surmised.

"Not often," said Wilhelm. "Only when there's someone worth following." He nodded brusquely toward Coryn.

Lala wondered whether this stalwart creature was indeed worth following, and whither. "I might have taken you for his mate," she said to Bedelia, bowing slightly. "Or is that another thing deer don't keep?"

"I'm afraid so," she replied. The three squirrels teemed on her back—why didn't they ride one deer apiece, if they couldn't use their own legs?

"It's such a pleasure to meet you all!" said Lala. She let herself give a cute wiggle, as if letting the pleasure fall into its proper place. "I have to confess… I've only ever spoken with my own kind before."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Murderer," declared Taffet in altogether too clarion a voice. "Or is it just Miss?"

Was that the part of her address the squirrel was unsure of? "You think of me as a murderer?" she asked. Coy, she reminded herself. Keep it coy—don't show your teeth.

"Well aren't you?" demanded the squirrel, creeping squarely up to the doe's head.

Lala bowed subserviently. She knew this was a key moment. "It's true that, as a wolf, I hunt for my sustenance. But I think the word murder only applies within a given social structure."

The male squirrel spoke up from behind Taffet. "And, ah… aren't we a social structure, Miss Lala?"

Lala smiled, allowing herself to show just a hint of tooth. "I suppose that's what we're here to determine!"

The older stag murmured to the doe; the brown rabbit whispered to the colorful one. "Social order," said one of the birds. Damn it, Lala couldn't tell them apart.

"As I see it," said Mei, standing as tall as it seemed like he could, "whenever a new connection is formed between creatures, that's a good thing. We may as well be friends."

"Will being friends with the wolves get us out of being their lunch?" asked the rearmost squirrel—Fujiko. Ah, yes… charm the wolves by talking straight past them. Excellent idea.

"I'm not sure," said Mei. "But it couldn't hurt."

The squirrel didn't seem convinced. She whispered to her friend. Lala looked to Gabu to take over—this was getting away from them.

"Well, everyone," said Gabu, "I can't promise with complete certainty that I won't try to make you my lunch when my hunting day rolls around. But wouldn't you like to be friends anyway? Isn't it worth being friendly while we can?"

Lala's lips tightened. She wished he would commit, one way or the other. But he was the leader here. She smiled and nodded.

"Are you telling us," said the multicolored rabbit, "that we've no guarantee of safety?"

"Well… I wouldn't use the word 'guarantee'," caviled Gabu.

"We have songs!" said Lala, trying to wrest back the conversation. "We have stories! Dozens of stories. Goat stories. Wolf stories. And thoughts! We're not dull people."

"And we'd be glad to share them," said Mei, somewhat redundantly.

The muskrat now spoke for the first time. "I don't think anyone thinks you're dull people," he said. He was meek—probably juvenile—and struggled to meet Lala's eyes. "It's that… well. You killed my sister. And you destroyed our home. Do you remember?"

The burrow on the brook. It came to Lala's mind and she couldn't help twitching a little. "Yes. Four days ago." Just four days? The pace of life here really was rapid.

The rodent stared. "I'm just not sure how we can be friends, after you did that. My parents didn't want me to come. They said you could… rot in loneliness."

"Itsuko," said Lala. "I'm sorry about your home. And… I'm sorry about your sister." Lala wanted suddenly to clarify—she was sorry in the sympathetic sense, not in the sense of remorse. But she knew that wouldn't go over well.

The muskrat looked up hopefully. All the animals looked at her, except the squirrels, who glanced at each other. She knew she had to say something else. Just being sorry wasn't enough.

"I realize it would feel awkward to spend time with me, after I killed your loved one." Lala looked around at all the faces, afraid she was about to say something stupid. "But… awkwardness is just a feeling, isn't it? Life is full of difficult feelings. If we learn to get past them… or even enjoy them…" She lowered herself to her belly, even though the ground was moist. "…Life is more enjoyable."

The warblers fluttered. The doe turned one eye to bear on her. It was the brown rabbit, Akiara, who spoke. "What if just looking at you causes us pain?" she asked earnestly.

This was a deep question. Lala took a breath. She looked at Gabu, hoping he could answer… and sure enough, he did.

"Well… pain is pain. And if we're really your friends, we wouldn't want you feel that way," he offered. "So… I won't be offended if any of you decide you want nothing to do with me." He sat down beside Lala, tail down, ears drooping.

"But," said Mei, stepping forward. "Their pack killed my mother. And they harrowed us, time and time again. My herd had to change our plans or run from them, over and over." He looked at Gabu and rested his head against his furrier one for a moment. "But here I am, nonetheless."

"Do you have any herd left?" asked the loud squirrel.

Mei shook his head, but hesitated. "Gabu and Lala are my herd," he answered.

Heartwarming. Tender. Lala scanned the faces to see if any were touched. Interestingly, the big stoic stag seemed like he might be the most moved.

"But you're safe, Mr. Grass-Eater," said Taffet. "It's easy for you to feel that way. What about the rest of us?"

The other squirrels nodded in timid agreement. The colorful rabbit slouched back.

"Safety," said one of the warblers, bobbing.

"Security," said the other.

Mei stepped back, chastened. A misstep, then. Lala sighed and tried to look docile. "Is there no one willing to give us a chance?"

The animals looked between themselves. "I will," said the brown rabbit. Odd—she was the one who'd spoken of pain.

"With no guarantee of safety?" asked Kiput.

Gabu seemed unsure; he quavered his lower jaw before speaking. "I… I just don't know if I can keep perfect track of everyone. And I do… I do want to be fair… but…"

Oh, for goddess' sake. For better or worse, Lala interrupted. "Look. What he's trying to say is, if we spare you just because you're our friends, what does our friendship mean? Is there anything magical about it? Is it really friendship at all? Or are you just buying your safety? What if…" She rose to her paws and faced the squirrels. "What if someone came to you with a bundle full of seeds, or… acorns, or whatever you eat? What if they spread the contents out and said, 'I'd like to buy your friendship. How many months will this get me? Three? Six?' What would you say?"

Gabu and Mei were staring at her. Let them. They'd been too afraid to say it outright; if she could help by breaking down a wall, let her. There was a limit to coyness and understatement, to uncertainty. There came a time when terms had to be frankly discussed. Lala had reached that point in negotiations with Giro's sister, Lolo, and had secured her own status as top-ranking female. She'd reached that point with all her previous mates, and obtained understandings. If she had to be the enemy here, she would accept that. Just let this pitiful circling of the issue end.

"Friendship is not a thing to be bought or sold," said Coryn.

"Damn straight," said Lala.

Then there was silence. Sometimes, sudden silence was a good thing.

Sometimes it wasn't.

"All right, Mrs. Murderer. We can be friends, even if you might kill me in my sleep the day after tomorrow. But I still don't think it's fair the grass-eater gets a free pass."

"I rather agree," said Kiput. The old stag, Wilhelm, was nodding.

"Fair dispensation is a virtue," said Coryn.

"Is there a reason Mei gets to remain safe, even on hunting days?" asked Bedelia. "Is it the fact he's known you for so long?"

"Well, actually," said Gabu. "I've only known him since last summer. And he's known Lala less than a month."

"Well, then," the doe continued. "Is it possible we may enter your grace likewise, after a little while?"

"Y-you mean earn safety? Um…" Gabu gulped. "I guess so? I don't know, honestly."

"Forget it," said Ringa, the colorful rabbit. "If we can't be safe and we can't even know the rules, I'm out."

"Me too," said Fujiko. "These creatures scare me."

"No peace," sang one of the warblers.

"No bliss," replied the other. Why were they even afraid? Lala couldn't touch them if she wanted to—they could fly!

"I don't know," said the muskrat whelp. "My parents wouldn't be happy…"

"This is a bitter deal, if you ask me," said Wilhelm.

Well, Lala had tried. She had indeed fouled it up, it appeared. For the first time in… well, for the first time since the fall of the pack, Lala felt genuine remorse. She'd almost forgotten the feeling. Holding back tears, she looked toward Gabu, wondering if he was mad at her. She didn't want him to be mad.

"I'm sorry," said Gabu. "But there's no way I could ever hunt Mei. He's… he's my dearest friend."

The doe looked levelly at him, withholding her opinion.

"I am doubtful of this business," said Coryn. And he turned to Lala. "You come to us, a walking tragedy visited upon our lands. Yet you ask for love."

That was a bit much. Lala's hocks flexed her up. "You see me… as a walking tragedy?"

Ringa nodded nervously. "We used to only have to fear badgers and hawks, plus the occasional fox. But you're something else altogether."

Coryn nodded. "You are great, clawed behemoths that even we deer must fear."

"You have to understand how scared we are," said Itsuko. "Most of the creatures wouldn't even think of coming to talk to you."

"We're the brave ones," agreed Taffet, looking around at her companions.

Nearby, Mei sighed. He walked into the midst of the welcoming committee, as Lala had come to think of it. Rather ironically, it seemed, as it was clear they weren't welcome. The animals stepped and skittered back before him, as if he, a goat, might destroy them. "Will you at least spend time with me?" he asked.

For a moment, there was doubt all around. But then—"Sure," said the brown rabbit.

"Why not?" said Taffet.

"I… I suppose," said the muskrat.

"If we must," said Kiput.

"Watch from above," said one of the warblers.

"Live and learn," said the other.

Lala stepped back several paces. "Should we wolves withdraw, then? Let Mei soften your hearts and keep our own company?"

"Perhaps it would be best," said Coryn. Several of the others nodded.

"Stay," said the brown rabbit. "I want to hear your stories."

Lala hesitated. Now, this one. This one really was brave. "Maybe we'd better work up to that. We wouldn't want to make your companions uncomfortable."

The rabbit met her eyes. Those whiskers… they were compelling. They added force to the stare.

"We'll see you around, Mr. and Mrs. Murderer," said Taffet loudly. "For now, we'll stick with Mr. Grass-Eater."

Mei looked at Lala apologetically. She curtsied, brushing it off. This was nothing. Patience—that was all this would take. Lala had plenty of patience.

"I think that would be wise," concurred Coryn.

"Well then…" Gabu sounded a little helpless. "I guess we'll come back tomorrow? At mid-morning? To this spot?"

"To this place on the brook's bank," the stag agreed.

It was decided, then. So Lala withdrew, taking care to do so as gracefully as she knew how. Gabu turned unhappily beside her. As she left, Lala noticed the colorful rabbit slinking away, the timid female squirrel bounding down from the doe's back to leave. Not everyone had the stomach even for a foreign goat, it seemed.

Yet as she walked with Gabu back to the flowery hill, she recalled Mei, on that very hill, telling her that friendship was a lot for a wolf to ask from a goat. Doubly so, to ask from creatures whose friends and loved ones they slaughtered on a regular basis. If these locals were reluctant to extend themselves in peace, Lala could comprehend that.

She said as much to Gabu. But it didn't lift his disappointment.

"I hope Mei can convince them about us," he said, loping along. "That we're actually not such bad people."

"Aren't we, though?" asked Lala, letting just a little sweetness creep back in.

Gabu looked at her, wide-eyed. "Just because we're hunters doesn't mean—!"

"We're not exactly good company for a lot like that," Lala pointed out. "From our perspective? There's nothing wrong with you, or with me. But from theirs?" She shrugged. "We're monsters."

Gabu moaned. "I don't want to be a monster."

Lala smiled. "Well, for what it's worth… if you weren't, you couldn't be my mate."

Gabu gulped. It seemed like she'd given him a little food for thought.

They went back to the lair on the hill and waited there for the third member of their pack—the one with flat teeth and hooves, rather than fangs and paws—to come home and tell them how the terrain lay for tomorrow.

The 26th Evening

When Mei came back, he was exhausted. The sun was setting. Lala and Gabu had spent some time practicing their signals in the meadow, and playing on the hill, but they weren't tired like Mei seemed to be. His ears were limp against his skull, his footsteps small. His breaths seemed to be mostly exhalations.

"Well?" said Gabu with his adorably hopeful face. "What are they like?"

The goat forced himself to smile. "They're not bad. They all have their own ways… and their own tales, and their own ways of…" He yawned. "Looking at things. Oh, but Gabu. It's been a long day. I'm so tired, and…" For once, it was Mei's stomach that burbled.

"Mei!"

Mei laughed. "And hungry!" he admitted. "I haven't eaten all day. I'm not used to that, like the two of you." His eyes, too, were smiling. "I hope you'll forgive me if I can't tell all the stories at once. I'll… need some time to rest."

Lala was indeed hungry for these stories. But, she reminded herself. Patience. She nodded graciously.

"Of course!" said Gabu. "Would you like me to gather up some flowers for you?"

Mei beamed, but shook his head. "I'll stick with shoots and clover for now. You're very sweet—do you know that, Gabu?"

"If he doesn't know it," said Lala, "I do."

Mei smiled at her, then set about hunting for edibles. She watched as his sides started heaving a bit less.

Lala imagined biting into those sides. She imagined tearing the strips of muscle from his flanks, enjoying them one by one. Her stomach still approved, but her deeper self recoiled. Good. Regularly fantasizing about eating her packmate was an exercise. If Lala found herself gradually more repulsed by the idea, that was for the best. It was one thing to resist temptation; it was another to vanquish it.

"Is it all right if I stay a while?" she asked. "I know you don't want me sleeping in your den, but I was hoping to hear a story or two before I have to—"

"Stay," said Mei. His cheeks were full of clover; his expression was a little desperate, a little pained. He chewed and swallowed. "You don't have to go."

"You don't mean… are you giving me permission to sleep inside? With you and Gabu, tonight?"

Mei nodded and slitted his eyes. "Please. Stay. You're one of us now."

Lala gaped for a moment as she took this in. Then she nodded contentedly. "Thank you, Mei. That means a lot to me." She checked her emotions quickly and found that it was true. Well. How about that.

Gabu set his head against her shoulder. Lala relaxed and laid her cheek against his nose. They sat like that for a while as they watched the land and the coat of the grazing white goat grow dark.

So Lala had a home again, now.

It felt good.

A/N: I see Mei as being homosexual, but not especially libidinous. As his herd lacks a culture of homosexuality, he's effectively asexual for the most part. This is related to his lack of desire for children.

Just to be clear—we humans and some great apes are the only critters that really smile, at least to indicate happiness. But it makes our cartoon characters so much more relatable!

[EDITED TO ADD: Okay, so maybe dogs smile too. Some people seem to think they even learn it from us!]

~v~ `\/\/'~.~'\/\/` ~v~