NB: this chapter was not in my original version of the story. But about the time I got to chapter 26, I started thinking that the two halves were getting really unbalanced. Plus I wanted to show a wee bit more about Reverend Craig and how he operates. And… this is what came out.

Big thanks to Beaubier, for giving this an advance read and making sure it wasn't just a case of me being an idiot who can't leave things alone! And for knowing about SFA! You rock doll!

"What were ye doing last night, Rah?"

It wasn't the most pleasant question to be woken up with at the best of times, and considering her worries about her night-time activities, Rahne was a little surprised that Claire's question didn't send her into a panic attack despite being uttered in a tone of good-natured teasing. At least she hadn't been sleeping in wolf-form, like she sometimes did. "What…?… umm… what do you mean?" she asked, propping herself up in bed and fixing sleep-fogged eyes on her friend, who was standing at the door, backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"Well, it's 9.30, and ye're still in bed," the blonde girl replied, crossing the room to sit down in the old armchair. "What's the matter, cushy living in America make ye soft or somethin'?" Her scent plainly showed that she was joking, but Rahne didn't need her nose to be able to read her friend.

Rahne rolled her eyes as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. "Oh haha…you're a right comedian, Miss Craig, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Aye, of course – or they would, if anyone in this idiot town could tell a joke when it bit them."

Rahne snorted at the idea. It was true, in general the inhabitants of Ullapool tended toward a certain concreteness of thinking which didn't translate too well into humour. "Seriously though, what are you doing here at 9.30 in the morning?"

"I have a new addition to the music collection," answered Claire, producing a CD from the depths of the backpack. "Wanted ta get it over here before my father does his usual Wednesday morning room inspection."

"Oh… that's cool." It was part of an arrangement that had lasted almost as long as Rahne could remember. Certain things that the Reverend considered sinful or frivolous were kept at the Sinclairs. Rahne's parents had always encouraged her friend's small measures of rebellion: dolls, picture books, and more recently magazines and rock music – it was Claire's way of salvaging something of a normal childhood between the sermons and the rigid schedule her father laid down for her. "What did you get this time?"

"The new Coldplay album. Chris Martin is utterly fit, nay?" Getting up out the chair, Claire crossed the room to the CD player. "Do ye mind if I put it on?"

"Go ahead," Rahne replied, waving a hand at the stereo. She wasn't particularly knowledgeable about music, but Claire's taste was usually okay. "Did you get anything else while I was away?"

"A few things." Claire opened the top desk drawer where her CDs were stashed. "Here, you might like this." She selected one album and tossed it to Rahne, who caught it neatly. "They're a Welsh band – just sort of quirky and fun."

Turning the case around in her hands, Rahne slowly read the name. "Super Furry Animals?" she asked, looking up sharply. Claire couldn't know… could she? But her friend was oblivious, listening intently to the first track of her new CD, and her scent was completely innocent of suspicion or mistrust. Rahne allowed herself to relax a little, even managing a laugh. "Aye, it sounds like me," she said. She'd have to mention it to Kurt and Mr McCoy sometime when she wrote to the Institute – her fellow furry mutants would appreciate the joke.

"Aye," the other girl nodded absently. She twisted around to look back at Rahne, but then frowned and started brushing at her clothes. "What the hell? I have hair all over my back. Or fur, or somethin' - it's too short ta be hair… Where did that come from?"

Rahne froze, praying to God that she'd managed to keep her face blank. She'd spent too much time in wolf-form curled up in the armchair which Claire had been sitting – she must have shed all over it. "Oh…," she said. "That's very… odd…"

"Aye, it is. Funny, it looks a wee bit like your colour, Rahney…"

But any further speculations on Claire's part about the origin of the hairs stuck to her clothing were cut short by sudden sounds of commotion from the street outside. Both girls rushed to the window of the bedroom and pulled open the curtains to look down on the normally empty lane outside.

Empty no longer, as a small knot of people came chattering and speaking amongst themselves, breaking up the normal peace of the neighbourhood. Rahne thought she recognised the leading figure as Mrs MacBride, one of Ullapool's most upstanding - or at least strictest and most sour - residents. The vinegary old matron had two young people in tow, one dark-haired and one fair, and if she wasn't actually yanking them along by the ears, there was a definite hint of frogmarching in the way the two figures dragged their feet and shot each other nervous glances. With a stab of pity, Rahne realised that one of the figures was her friend Jess. The other was Murray Crawford, but to her surprise, Rahne found that she actually even felt sorry for him, being caught in this procession. There could only be one destination for this parade of righteous citizenry, so determined in their stance and stride, and neither Rahne nor Claire were in any way surprised when Mrs MacBride brought her two unwilling charges to a halt in front of the Craig's front door and rapped smartly on the plain grey-painted panels.

Up in Rahne's bedroom the two girls shared a look and nodded to each other before heading out the door and down the stairs. This event warranted closer inspection. Not too close of course, until they'd sorted out exactly what was happening, lest they got caught in it themselves, but close enough to hear what was going on. So, quietly as possible, they snuck out the back door and crept along the line of the fence, keeping down and out of sight of the group of concerned villagers.

"…so good of ye ta spare your time for us, Reverend," Mrs MacBride was saying as they approached.

"The Lord has time for every one of His children, and so must I," the sonorous voice of Claire's father announced. "The question which we must each ask ourselves every day is how we can best do His work."

"Exactly, Reverend, that's just as I've always said." Rahne was almost sure she could hear the self-satisfied nod in the matron's voice. "And that's why I've brought these two here ta ye today, ye ken?"

Shooting a glance over at Claire, Rahne noticed that her friend had her eye pressed to one of the gaps between the fence pailings. She followed suit, just in time to watch as the minister stalked forward to inspect the two penitent detainees. "Really," was all he said, lips pursed and eyes considering. Murray blanched and wilted under the churchman's stare, and Jess was not far off it either.

"Oh aye," replied Mrs MacBride, who appeared to have volunteered herself as the spokesperson for this particular gathering. "I was just taking my daily walk, and mindin' my own business…" Beside her, Rahne heard Claire let out a loud snort. She shot a warning glance at her friend to remind her to be quiet. "…when I came across these two youngsters fornicating down one of the lanes in the village."

Fornicating? Rahne felt her eyes widening as she turned to Claire in disbelief. Surely not, not in the street… that was just – beyond belief. Whether Reverend Craig was as surprised as she was at the accusation, she couldn't tell, not from this distance, but he repeated the word himself, with just the hint of a question in his tone, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on Jess and Murray. "Fornicating?"

Mrs MacBride opened her mouth to repeat her triumphant denunciation, but she was beaten to speaking by an outburst from Jess. "That's a lie! We werena fornicating or naught, Reverend..." The minister said nothing in reply, merely raising his eyebrows, but his face seemed to harden somehow, and from her right, Rahne could hear Claire muttering "shut up, shut up" under her breath. But somehow Jess had gone past heeding the warning signs, not even pausing when her pointed look at Murray for assistance gained nothing from the boy but a studied inspection of his shoes. "It wasna anythin' serious - we were just kissing!"

Rahne didn't even need the small sigh from Claire to know that Jess had just said very much the wrong thing. Before her friend had had any further chance to explain herself, the Reverend had seized upon her words and bored into them. "Just kissing? The Lord doesna excuse sin because it isna anything 'serious', young lassie. Especially when it involves something that can be nothing other than a prelude ta wicked fornication outside the holy bonds of matrimony." His tone was solemn, but the words still rang out stridently, falling on the smug smiles of the gathering of residents and the horrified expressions of the two young people with equal unconcern. "There is nae such thing as 'just kissing', particularly when it involves such a young Jezebel like yourself. Not only have ye committed the sins of lust, ye have obviously led astray an impressionable young lad with your harlotry." Jess gasped indignantly and opened her mouth to protest once again, but the minister continued over her. "And now, ye make it worse by showing a complete lack of respect for your elders. Such entrenched sin is dangerous, and it must be swiftly punished ta prevent its spread. Therefore… for your sins of lust, ye shall spend one month in the service of the Lord. Some solitary time spent in cleaning the Church should provide ample time for contemplation, I believe. And furthermore," he told Jess, "ye shall spend this time and an extra two months aiding Mrs MacBride with whatever jobs she has need of. Perhaps that will teach ye ta better respect your elders." The smile that grew on the matron's acid face at this pronouncement was particularly horrifying, rich with the promise of two months of inventive slavery. Jess blanched, but this time at least, she managed to keep her mouth shut.

As the small crowd dispersed, leading the two mortified teenagers away, Rahne spun around to face her other friend. "Claire, you have to do something, that's unfair."

"Aye, I ken," the blonde girl replied. "Murray should have been punished too - he was in it just as deep."

"Nay, I mean it was unfair to punish either of them for..." Rahne started, but she faltered on seeing the blank stare her friend was giving her. "It was just kissing," she said instead, all the while wondering why she had to sound so defensive.

For a second Claire said nothing, but the level look she was giving for once marked her plainly as her father's daughter. Her scent was unreadable, but eventually she seemed to relax and relent. "Aye, it was, I suppose. But hell, Rah, Jess has herself ta blame for it all – if she was going ta do that sort of thing, she should have been more discreet. And she should have kent enough ta keep her mouth shut too…"

"Aye, but it's still unfair," Rahne protested. Claire nodded immediately this time. "So you should do something about it – talk to your father and get him to change his mind."

"I canna," Claire replied. "Ye ken that I canna. Ye ken what he's like – when has he ever listened ta anything that anyone said, let alone me?" Rahne wanted to protest, but she had to admit that Claire was right.

"But still," she said anyway, "shouldn't you try anyway?"

"Why?"

"Because…" somehow, she couldn't find the words to describe the feeling that even if something was hopeless, you had to try.

"It wouldna do anything, Rah. And even if it did…" Claire never finished the sentence, trailing off to stare at one of the knotholes in the fence pailing in front of her, and Rahne wasn't actually sure that she wanted to know what her friend had been about to say.

NB: I don't own Chris Martin, Coldplay, or the Super Furry Animals. Nevertheless, they are all real! I couldn't resist adding in the reference to SFA, who are Welsh and amazing and funnily enough have a song called Demons.