Only 20-some chapters left (ha ha). Just a quick primer on geography—in the US, the north is colder than the south. In Hoth, it's just the opposite: the south is colder than the north. New characters in the next chapter, which I'll put up tomorrow night, hopefully. :)

Disclaimer: FB doesn't belong to me, and nor does anything else you recognize.

Chapter 31

Lhoru stood upon the roof of Shehure's house and gazed at the wintry night sky. Lhadoman, being a lover of high places even during Hoth's bitter winters, had shoveled out a small square around the roof door. Still, the door had scooped aside a freshly fallen load of snow as Lhoru forced it open. Her breath immediately appeared as a solid white puff. Thank heavens the wind had decided to spare Lhasa tonight. Then again, for as long as the oldest Hothans could remember, the wind had never blown during the night of New Year's Eve. The humblest breeze would vanish, as if dictated by a natural law, as soon as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Tiptoeing precariously along the icy edge of the snow, Lhoru managed to shut the door. It wouldn't do to have the cold air entering the house. Huki and Lhadoman's rooms were too close to the roof stairs.

New Year's Eve. Almost a year since her mother died…the anniversary was in a week. Snuggling into her woolen muffler, Lhoru silently wished the weather would be sufficiently warm enough for her to visit Mother's grave. Lhoru willed back threatening tears—the risk of the liquid freezing on her face was too great.

Must think happier thoughts, she scolded herself. Mother wouldn't want you to be so sad on a beautiful night. Her attention returned to the stars, glittering brilliantly. One thing you could say for Hothan winters, the sheer cold sharpened and augmented the night sky to almost fantastical proportions. If there wasn't a blizzard, in which case a sensible person would take refuge indoors. But on a clear night, the light of the moon created perfectly black shadows from anything in its path, and millions of stars blinked, lightyears away from the people observing them. Some of these stars were cradled by a gently glowing, translucent white band called the God's Path.

The God's Path encircled the constellations that formed the basis of the modern Hothan calendar, and it was called after the path the animals took to the banquet. Lhoru now studied the constellations along the Pathway. The Dragon and Snake were easy to pick out, thanks to their distinct zigzag forms. The Dragon was much larger, and Lhoru could see the pentagon of stars that formed its head. But all the rest of the constellations were muddled in her head. She never had been able to keep the rest straight. Once, as a little child in a similar moment of confusion, she had wondered if there were other constellations. There were so many stars inside the God's Path, and plenty of space in between the known constellations for new, or perhaps forgotten, ones.

Speaking of forgotten ones, the cat lay dozing on the sofa, in front of the television in the living room of the house. Lhadoman had been lulled to sleep by one of Lhoru's steaming hot chocolate mixtures. The cat had decided to keep Lhoru company tonight, since outsiders weren't allowed to the Shoma New Year's Eve party. And, as Lhadoman pointed out correctly to Shehure, it wouldn't matter if he came or not, because there was no place for the cat at the Dzuni banquet. Earlier, it had been a very tense day. Huki had been stiff, and his look of a prisoner being led to his execution had worried Lhoru greatly. Shehure joked and teased as usual, except an undertone of forced lightheartedness pervaded his every utterance. A banquet should be a time of joy, not fear or unhappiness, thought Lhoru.

She realized she still knew so little about the Shomas and the dark curse that gripped all the affected members by the throat, and continued to evade Lhoru's full understanding. Where had the curse come from? Would the family ever find true happiness? Every family, without exception, has its skeletons in the closet, but the Shomas were a special case. For them, it was not a question of a few rotten eggs, or a particular line that hadn't turned out well. Each cursed member, and in turn, everybody connected with that person, suffered the erosive and strangulating effects of the curse. Lhoru was still murky on how much of the expansive family had actually been touched. The closeness of the rho group, the people "within" the curse, might suggest that the curse was restricted to specific sections of the family. However, Lhoru saw no reason a Shoma born in Rhenigroth was less likely to get cursed than one born inside the Lhasa family estate. Shehure sounded like he was from the south, although the accent was so faint Lhoru couldn't tell for sure.

Huki, Shehure, Lhadoman, Khagura, Hathori, Nharu, Hatsuharu, and Ahame. Eight of the cursed ones so far, which left five that Lhoru had yet to meet. She anticipated those meetings with the same fervor of one meeting long-lost relatives. The Shomas were Lhoru's real family, much more than her aloof grandfather, nasty aunts and uncles, and snobby cousins. They all expected Lhoru to become a gangster like her mother. Hence Lhoru had been treated like a plague-stricken person within the Mileshi family, her father's family. Her mother's family had long ago cut off all contact, when Noha had become permanently estranged from her family after joining a gang. That had been several years before Lhoru's birth. Lhoru didn't know any of Noha's blood relatives, and truthfully, she didn't mind that very much.

However, the Shomas had welcomed her from the beginning, and treated her more warmly after they believed she was trustworthy. Well, certain members of the family, anyway. A vague queasy feeling hovered at the thought of the family head. The one whose name was always accompanied by hushed, awed whispers, and expressions of total blankness, discomfort, or crippling fear. Lhoru remembered all too well Huki's anxiety when Shehure first told Asheno about her arrival, and the mix of anger and fear on the cat's face whenever he caught Asheno's name. Shehure kept his voice dispassionate during discussions of Asheno; Lhoru couldn't discern the dog's true feelings towards his family head. Really, all Lhoru knew about Asheno was his name and that he was the head of the Shoma family, that he had injured Hathori's eye, and that everyone had to obey what he said. The emotions of others were all she could associate with Asheno outside of those bare-bone facts. No one was ever willing to tell her anything more. But the facts were not at all encouraging.

She stared at the God's Path. The cold finally began to seep into her body. She would have to return inside soon. Lhoru began to turn to the door, but she stole one last look at the sky. This year would be momentous. The girl felt suddenly crushed by the massive breadth of the Hothan celestial sky. A haríthe loomed in the family's forecast, an old cliché the astrologists in the popular magazines liked to utilize, and one their faithful readers never failed to believe. Mama, who loved reading such magazines, had once said, "The worst thing is that a prediction like that is always right. Bad things happen in life all the time."At that moment, the air in the room cooled and shadows came into sharper focus, ever so slightly. The next morning, the accident occurred. Lhoru sensed the same phenomenon now—she had seen it in Lhadoman's face as well, earlier tonight. He feared his future.

The cat woke as his shoulder's pinched nerve complained, after being crushed under the weight of his sleeping body for an hour.

"Yowch!" exclaimed Lhadoman, sitting up and stretching his arm carefully. A blanket crumpled in his lap. "Lhoru must've put this on me…" As the fog of sleepiness lifted, he realized Lhoru was nowhere to be found.

"Lhoru?" He stood up, looking in every direction. "Hey, Lhoru, where'd you go?" Idiot, a voice in his head scolded, it's almost midnight, she's probably asleep and you're waking her up, asshole.

"Lhadoman?"

"Geez, you were outside? Were you insane? It's too goddamn cold!" Lhadoman pulled Lhoru by the wrist to the fireplace. Lhoru yelped as he seated her on the floor and threw a blanket over her coat.

"You get sick enough from stress as it is. I'll make you some hot cocoa." The cat strode quickly but silently out of the living room. He continued lecturing while he briskly stirred the mix and heated it on the stove. A smile stole onto Lhoru's lips. The nervous voice in her head reprimanding her for letting Lhado work his hands to the bone for her faded as she thought, "He's so cute when he's nagging me."

"Take it easy, once in a while, would you? Do yourself a favor and let others take care of you…" The behest dropped off, as Lhoru accepted the mug with a wide smile. She sipped carefully but contentedly, oblivious to Lhadoman's sudden change of expression.

His last words thudded hollowly. Let others take care of you. It was then he realized he'd nearly fallen into the trap of wanting to be one of the people taking care of Lhoru. He'd be shut up in another year, secluded from all other humans. Including Lhoru. Damn, why was he letting himself get close to this girl? He was the Cat. The foulest creature possible.

"I'm going to bed," he said brusquely. His pace quickened as he heard a cheerful, "Happy New Year!" from Lhoru. The clock was still fifteen minutes away from midnight.

As usual, an air of oppression reigned at the beginning of the Dzuni Banquet. Asheno had mumbled his way through the traditional opening at midnight, apparently too tired or angry to inject more life into his speaking. No one could tell which, though it soon became apparent.

The formalities having been concluded, the feasting commenced. A tomblike silence hung over the Dzuni, all of whom could sense Asheno's foul mood. The god kept his eyes trained on Huki, who focused with equal intensity on cutting his meat. Shehure's canine nose caught the strong scent of fear wafting from Huki. Secretly, the dog prayed that Huki would defy Asheno—it might help his plans.

"Huki?" asked Asheno pleasantly.

The rat kept eating, mustering all his courage to keep his hands from shaking.

"Huki?" repeated Asheno, his pitch lowering several notches. It was a deathly familiar tone to anybody who ran seriously afoul of Asheno—the low voice seething with an explosive anger.

Everyone stiffened, including Shehure.

"Oh, no, he's going to kill Huki," Hatsuharu thought.

"Should I do something?" wondered Ahame, remembering all the times he'd abandoned his brother to the mercy of Asheno over the years. "But I don't know what Asheno will do!"

The god's eyes bore invisible holes into Huki's cranium as Huki lifted his wine glass with a mildly shaky hand. "Huki, you must answer your God," demanded Asheno. Still no reply.

Asheno leaned back, never breaking his glare. "It's clear to me, Huki," he started, continuing to use his dangerous voice, "that you have spent too much time away from me, and have forgotten how to show proper respect to me, the person who loves you most." Khagura shivered. She hated having to sit next to HIM at every banquet.

Huki stopped eating and dropped his utensils. His chest tightened under the realization of what he'd done. What, was he crazy to inflame Asheno like this? Out of old habit, the urge to grovel to Asheno and beg for forgiveness bubbled to mind. Slowly Huki lifted his head and turned it to his right, towards Asheno. When their eyes met, Asheno gave him a victorious smirk. He could see the fear in his rat's eyes. He could still dominate Huki.

"Perhaps a short stay with me over the holidays will be just what you need," decided Asheno, nodding. He smiled, relishing the thought of reacquainting Huki with "the room."

Stunned, Huki gaped as the smirk transformed into an evil grin. Flashbacks from his earlier years zipped by—fearing the touch of Asheno's hand, the beatings, that small, dark closet…

"NO!" screamed a voice inside his head. Why should he allow himself to submit to misery? He had a life outside of Asheno! He did! There was Lhoru, the person who first brought joy back into his closed existence, and he had only begun to work up the courage to speak to her friend Hana again…Only a short while ago, he wouldn't have even have thought of trying to do so.

"No."

"What?" Asheno stopped his mental musings, barely missing Huki's staccato response. Every pair of eyes focused on Huki. Shehure waited, hopeful.

"No." With more strength and clarity this time.

"No what?" Asheno's eyes widened, surprised. What was he doing?

"I won't stay with you."

An audible gasp rose from the group. The antique clock held its ticking as Asheno stared at Huki in disbelief for a full ten seconds. The rat had turned back to the blackwood table, wheezing slightly. Something funny was happening to his vision…all the lines on the table were coalescing and breaking apart again. He could hear Hathori talking to someone named Huki, far off in the distance, asking Huki if he was all right. As his wheezing intensified, Huki failed to notice Asheno leaping out of his chair, hands aiming for the rat's throat, and the clattering and scraping of wood against the floor as other Dzuni leapt out of their seats.

"I'm losing them, Shehure, I'm losing them all!" moaned Asheno, his beautiful hekasho now a rumpled mess, lost among his equally messy bedsheets. The god writhed in his bed, alternately wringing the sheets and raging. "How could they, those bastards! Even Ahame," he ended with a mutter, quieting down suddenly. "Even Ahame." That spineless snake, who had never come to his younger brother's defense in the past. Not once, not even during the infamous closet episode. But tonight he had shot out of his seat, along with Khagura and Hatsuharu, to restrain Asheno. Overtaken by impotence, Asheno dazedly looked at the ceiling. He growled, and punched the bed with both fists.

"Asheno, you must rest," murmured Shehure in a silky tone, gently pressing down on the man's shoulders. The dog had had long practice at dodging Asheno's flying limbs and thrown projectiles. "Your body has had enough as it is."

"That's the whole point! I'm going to die soon! They shouldn't treat me like this!" Asheno sat up, huffing. His vision swam.

"I wish he'd open these windows once in a while," thought Shehure, loosening the neck of his own hekasho, and ignoring Asheno's continued rantings. "Then again, it is winter..."

He soon realized that Asheno had suddenly stopped speaking. Asheno's eyes focused on the bedsheets as he calculated something in his twisted mind.

"Here it comes," thought Shehure.

"It's all that bitch's fault," growled Asheno. "She's conspiring to take my Dzuni away and make them hate me. I must get rid of her."

The opportunity presented itself to Shehure. He had to jump in before Asheno went on.

"If I may suggest," Shehure cleared his throat, mentally beating down his conscience, "letting Lhoru see Lhado's true form."

"Eh? What? I could just have Hathori erase her memories." Erasing her memories…the god's petulant objection dredged old moments of fury from Shehure's memories, further steeling the dog's resolve for his plans. He did not want to subject Hathori to such a thing again. Convincing Asheno wouldn't be hard, however.

"True," admitted Shehure, "although nothing could break Lhoru like seeing Lhadoman's true form. Don't you remember, Asheno? How repulsive that monster is?" The expressions of recollection and pure disgust on Asheno's face encouraged Shehure. He kept talking, pressing his advantage to the hilt. "Remember the stench, like rotting corpses? The last time you saw Lhado in that form, even you were compelled to take cover behind me. Lhado's true form forced his mother to commit suicide, it drove her to such despair. After one encounter with him, Lhoru will beg to have her memories erased, and by then the whole family will be so upset by her breakdown that they'll prefer to have her forget rather than suffer. And you will be the one to order the erasing, appearing as Lhoru's angel of mercy…" He trailed off. Of course, the family would never see it that way, being naturally suspicious of Asheno's motives. No need to dwell on details now.

Asheno watched him from under dark tresses of silky hair. His sadistic streak warmed up to the dog's proposal. Smirking, Asheno whispered, "Yes, let Lhoru see the cat as the monster he really is. Any half-blind, gibbering idiot can tell they're in love. Yes, that'll make it much worse." He nodded in approval, the usual gleam of methodical madness reclaiming its proper place in his eyes. "Even if Lhoru should get through the experience, the damage will be done. Our fair flower shall be swallowed by ice, as the song goes." The dog suppressed a shiver as Asheno winked at him. "That is what you call her in jest, isn't it? 'Our fair flower?' You perverted dog!" The god laughed loudly.

Shehure forced a smile and stood up. "So it shall be," he began, desperate to leave before his inner turmoil betrayed his true intentions. "You can decide the logistics tomorrow after a good sleep—it's well into the morning by now. A dog must hold his sleeping time sacrosanct."

Thankfully, Asheno waved his hands, agreeing. "Go, go, Shehure, sleep. You will have much to do."

"I will have much to do?" asked Shehure, "What do you mean, I?" An ominous feeling caused his hair to prickle. He had stopped right in front of the door, and the knob's iciness spread up his arm. Or was his own body feeling cold at that moment?

"You will talk to Khazuma, set it up," responded Asheno, offended Shehure missed something so obvious. "Khazuma is the one Lhadoman trusts most. He'll have the easiest time getting close enough to pull off the bracelet, and you are glib enough to convince him to do it. Besides, Khazuma deserves to be punished, letting the cat roam as freely as he does. I must have been ill when he talked me into letting Lhadoman live with him."

"Yes, Asheno, good night," Shehure said, head bowed and shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly as he turned the knob and left the god's shadowy wing. He would take a short walk, and sort out his thoughts. Think of a way to approach Khazuma, who might not be willing to risk destroying his adopted son. No, that was not quite right—Khazuma would risk hurting Lhadoman if it meant freedom from the curse.

"And Lhoru?" asked Shehure's conscience in a rather reproachful manner. "And Huki? And—"

"I understand, I understand!" snapped Shehure out loud, startling a nighttime servant coming round the corner from the kitchen corridors. She dropped her broom and pan with a loud clang. Cursing, Shehure shoved the dropped objects back into her arms.

"Leave me alone, please," he ordered. The frightened teenager ran off into the blue darkness. Shehure waited until his keen ears could no longer detect the sound of light, running steps. Then he turned to his left and began walking towards the guest pavilion, where he usually slept during the New Year's festivities. The guest pavilion had been built to impress. A covered hallway led from the entrance hall to the guest pavilion, and it skirted the eastern boundary of the main garden. Polished windows allowed one a magnificent vista of the fountain, and the bounteous flower beds during the summer often caused guests to slow their walk and perhaps even stop on the way to the pavilion.

As he neared the pavilion, the walkway sloped upwards gently, to allow a small creek to flow through underneath. The rise allowed Shehure to see each barren bush and stiff stalk perfectly, each poking out of the thick layer of snow. The sun had begun to rise, and the sky was slowing switching from black to grayish.

"I believe Asheno actually prefers the garden during winter, when everything is dead," Shehure idly thought to himself as he scanned the forlorn, icy vista. Lhadoman was forgotten, for now. His eyes wandered beyond the rosebush row that marked the beginning of the northwest corner. Against the lightening sky, Old Blood's branches remained deathly black, as though they had absorbed all the bleakness of the night.

"Damn, I need sleep," muttered Shehure. Surely his fatigue and the dawn light were fiddling with his senses—the tree was not moving its branches on its own. No wind blew right now. The tree is not alive, it's not alive, the dog repeated to himself as he stepped through the pavilion's doorway and shut it.

"A tree can't haunt you," he continued to scold himself, trying to convince his fear to dissipate. Old Blood had done it once again. Ever since he'd been a pup, that tree loomed in the background, sending a cold chill down his spine every time he saw it. Ghosts lived within—ghosts that laughed malevolently, mocking Shehure's dreams of freedom from the curse. Ghosts that would never leave, could never leave. They'd been there for much too long. Shehure's mood sank momentarily, before he mercifully collapsed onto his bed and instantly fell asleep.

That morning, he dreamed of a huge tree chasing him and swallowing him alive within its mammoth trunk.