-gasp- a possible kibaxtsume twist! Sorry about the shorty chapter that took me forever to write.


Where is that stupid, fat mutt? Calhoun wonders, lounging about on a bench while Chal chases a few squirrels, and Keane paces back and forth impatiently. Keane doesn't waste any time, if he can help it. In fact, he would leave without Alair if Amaris weren't so far away he couldn't sense her. Keane isn't sure whether to admire Keane determination, or be annoyed by his near-sightedness.

"I'm assuming we're staying here tonight," Calhoun tells Keane, not even glancing at him. He leans his head back, and closes his eyes gently. He knows what his reaction will be; he doesn't really need to see it with his own eyes. And he is rather tired.

"Another night in this city?" Calhoun jumps, and his eyes pop open. Keane's face is only several inches away from his, and, not for the first time, Calhoun misses personal space. He pushes Keane away-gently-and sits up again. The one would never be able to copperhead the concept of personal space, would he?

"Yes. You don't happen to see Alair around anywhere, do you?" Keane shrugs, and looks up at the horizon, as if this topic has ceased to interest him. "Yeah, that's what I thought." It's getting dark. They should find somewhere to safely rest for the night.

"Is he still after that girl?" Keane sits down in front of the bench, and sighs. "Can't he stop and concentrate on Paradise for a minute, perhaps?" Calhoun laughs, and closes his eyes again. And then again, sometimes that Keane is just like him.

"Not likely. Alair acts like every female is in heat." They both chuckle, slightly, knowing that Calhoun's blunt description isn't far off from the truth. Keane watches Chal place his front paws on a tree's truck, barking up at the creatures in the tree. Chal is so carefree, young, and restless. Has it been his naiveté that has gotten him this far?

And how much further will it take him? How much longer can any of them stand this? After losing Amaris so suddenly, after only enjoying her company for such a short time . . . can they stand not having that kind of joy in their lives again?

What if they can never get Amaris back from the noble that's taken her away?

"We'll find her again, Keane. You know that better than anyone." Keane turns to look at Calhoun, but he's still lying on his back with his eyes closed. How can Calhoun know just want he's thinking? It's comforting, in a way. In another way, its very disconcerting. The only person to ever do that was Amaris.

"Yeah," Keane answers, leaning onto the bench, his brown mane of hair a mere five inches from Calhoun's face. "We will."

Calhoun grunts as Keane's infuriatingly luscious scent flutters past his nose for a moment. So much for personal space. Calhoun's already mourning for it.


The guy keeps running ahead of her, and back, and ahead again. She's got major cramps, just running regularly, without going back and forth. How does he do it? She normally would stop, but she doesn't want him to think she's some sort of weakling. She's not. Don't slow down, Liam, she scolds herself as her legs scream in pain. Shit, he's running back to her again.

"Hey, are we nearby the place yet?" He's bounding right beside her now, and she doesn't even want to turn her head to look at him. She's afraid she'll fall down with exhaustion just from departing even a tiny bit from the steady beat her legs are using. "Hey, are you okay, you look a little beat. Want to stop?"

"I thought you would . . ." she stops and plops down suddenly, taking in deep breathes of air. " . . .never ask." She pulls her knees up and hugs them to her chest, resting her head on them gently. She's exhausted, and not even mostly from the run. She had enjoyed the short bit of rest she'd received from that punch, actually.

"If you needed to stop, you just should have asked." He's standing less than a foot away from her, but she doesn't care anymore. She just wants to roll over and sleep. She ignores him, and hums a little tune quietly. "Are you okay?" He asks, his voice concerned. He bends over, and looks up at her face.

"I'm fine," she grunts, pushing him blindly away with one hand. "I want to take a nap, is all."

"I can find you somewhere to sleep, if you like, easy." His words are convincing and lulling. She wants to listen to him and let him lead her to peacefulness. But . . . there's always a but for Liam. Her late father's paranoia had irreverently been passed down to her. She had found that she cannot trust anyone, especially a stranger she has just met.

"Why are you helping me?" She pushes herself up from the semi-comfortable position she has found, and stands up straight. Keep awake, Liam, she thinks. She never goes to sleep unless she is fully intending to. And at the moment, she would rather hear his answer.

"Why?" He seems to stop and think about it for a second. Rubbing his head, he hmms quietly. Then, he looks back at me. "I don't know why, exactly. You just . . . seem different, I suppose." That isn't a satisfactory answer, and he knows it. But what else can he do?

"I can find you somewhere to rest, really." Why is he so concerned? But—she is tired. No, correction, she's exhausted. The last few nights have been hectic for her, with all the searching, and corpses and lies. It's a difficult job sorting through all the garbage dead people leave behind, especially when the garbage isn't tangible. She could do with some rest. Maybe he can knock her out again.

"Fine, I accept," she concedes, and stands up. "Lead me to another abandoned apartment, if you will."

Alair is surprised at her sudden willingness to follow him. He had really expected more of a fight. But she does look like she use some time off from reality. He moves to take her hand, but she pulls away just in time for his hand to miss her. Giving him the evil eye, she says, "Just because I'm letting you do this, doesn't mean I trust you. Not really." Alair would laugh if her expression weren't so serious.

She really is amusing. How can she say she doesn't trust him? She's allowing him to take her somewhere where she can sleep. And then, most likely, she'll sleep. With him in the room. She trusts him more than she says, apparently.

They walk in silence; him concentrated on sniffing out an appropriate resting place, and her thoughtful.

In fact, her mind is buzzing with arguments. The Counsel of Liam has gathered, and they are all in conflict. Why is he helping you, one cries loudly. Why is he following you, another one corrects smugly. Why is he so pretty! The rest yell in response. A meek quiet one in the corner nods enthusiastically. He is rather pretty, isn't he?

No, no, no! This isn't the train of thought I should be having, goddamn it! she thinks angrily. She crosses her arms as she follows the sniffing man. Which reminds her . . .

"What's your name?"

He stops in surprise, and turns to her. "Alair," he replies simply. Is he waiting . . .? He should turn around and go back to sniffing. Instead he's staring at her. Stop it, she wants to cry.

She doesn't want to humble herself in such a way, so instead she frowns, and snaps, "What?"

"Nothing," he mutters, and turns around again. Oh, she realizes with a shock, as she understands what he wanted her to say. But it'll be awkward if she slips it in now . . . won't it? Oh, to hell with it, she says.

"Liam," she mutters under her breathe. If he doesn't hear her it's his fault. He does, though, and his head perks up. "Lee anne?" He asks, in a questioning tone, but he doesn't turn around again.

"Liam," she intones and enunciates correctly. He looks at her lips and copies the word.

"Liam." She feels like nodding and petting his head as a reward. He looks so pleased when she smiles at him that she wants to take him into her arms and hug him to pieces. Instead she smiles gently.

"Come on." She moves to take his hand, but pulls away at the last moment. What is she doing! He's a complete stranger. "Are we there yet?"

He shakes his head, and they continue walking down the street. "There are a lot of people in this part of the city."

"It's New York City. It might as well be called Dense City, even now. In fact, I'm surprised you found that empty apartment to begin with." They walk silently a bit, side by side. The silence isn't thick with tension or unanswered questions. It's a nice, light, comfortable silence. She likes it, and listens to the gentle noises of the city surround her. She's grown so used to the sounds that she mostly ignores them now. If feels nice to enjoy them once again.

"I think I found one." He takes her hands, and she forces herself to let him pull her. She can protect herself if things get rough . . . He rushes towards a tall, brick apartment building, and opens the door—or at least tries. It seems to be locked.

"Er, well, then. There goes that idea. I mean, unless you happen to have a bobby pin or—" She's about pull away from him gently, when he shoves into the door with his shoulder . . . while still holding her hand. She finds herself flying after him, nearly falling in the process. "What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck are you doi-ahhhh-doing!"

He stops suddenly, which doesn't help matters, and inertia sends her forward away. The fact that he's still holding her hand is the only reason she doesn't fall flat on her face. "Are you okay?" He asks this so kindly, and he sounds so concerned. Liam realizes with a shock that he seems to really care about her well-being. Her life is a hard one, and she has stopped really expecting people to care about her. And to find some stranger that does . . . is disconcerting to say the least, if not completely mind-boggling.

"I'm fine . . . " she replies shakily. She's finally able to pull her hand out of Alair's own. She wriggles around her fingers, trying to get the blood flowing again. By the time she looks up at Alair again, he's halfway up the stairs, staring now at her patiently.

"Are you coming?"

She sighs. Please say it isn't on the top floor. Her eyes are drooping dangerously as she nods, and begins to climb the stairs after him.