The last two months had ensured Leif become aware of his surroundings. It was necessary, what with the centaurs' above-average walking speeds, elves that could remain still for inhuman amounts of time, and the latest addition of cat-like beings. It felt as if being among humans again was a jarring sensation, oblivious herbivores wandering through a field, ignoring the wolf in their midst.
'Well, I like dogs …' he pursued the thought. 'Been called a Lone Wolf before, too. Guess it fits. Don't want to eat mutton though.'
Neighbors to the east and south raised sheep. He disliked sheep on principle. 'Smelly things that need constant looking after, gotta shear them too. Can't train them like cattle.'
The grocery store was half-full. Shopping carts ambled throughout the aisles like comfortable bovines, growing their cargo until making a final stop at the cashier stations near the point where they'd begun their journey. Leif had his own half-full cart, and started adding to its cargo with canned goods.
"Larsen!" a familiar voice called. "Hey, that you Larsen?"
Leif lowered a dozen cans of tomato juice into the cart, and straightened. "Bixley?"
"Hell yeah it's me!" the short man built like a fire plug came into sight. "It's been what, five, six months? Have you heard the news? Monsters are real!"
"Huh." Leif pushed his cart a few steps farther, locating the olives –an end aisle, away from canned vegetables. Much as the ranch grew its own produce, there were some varieties lacking the fortitude for Montana climate. Belatedly, he brought his attention back. "Oh. Yeah."
The shorter man almost vibrated with excitement. "You remember reading all those mythology books back in highschool? Theseus and the Minotaur? Saint George and the Dragon? All that stuff was real! We have real monsters, real heroes Leif! What do you think about that?"
Leif squinted at the labels, checking prices. "Forty five cents an ounce? Highway robbery."
"What … wait. You're worried about olives when I just told you that monsters are real?"
For a moment Leif considered explaining how not only he'd known such information, but had an intimate familiarity with the various downsides within that state of reality. But looking at the round face full of enthusiasm, he couldn't do it. Besides, it had been a while since he could pull out his mischievous side.
"Yah. Money doesn't grow on trees." He looked at the labels again. "That's better, thirty five cents an ounce."
Bixley paced alongside his cart as more cans descended into its depths. "How can you be so calm about this? It's like Homer, Aesop and all those old stories are coming to life, right here and now!"
Leif shrugged. Most individuals took such a motion as agreement.
"Of course it is!" Bixley's excited conversation continued as he followed Leif through the aisles.
'Sorta like Ro' when she gets going,' the thought traced across his mind. 'Wonder how she's doin?'
The thought shook off, like water on a duck's back. 'Red's ma will want to tear a strip off my back I bet. Haven't talked to her.' An inner shrug dismissed the situation. 'Anyone leading on Gramps like that isn't worth respectin'. I haven't done that, have I?'
A moment's introspection assured him there had been no intentional misleading. But … there might be a need to look into the matter after the next few days had passed. 'Big Reveal, then we can think about dating a cute girl.'
He came to a stop in the middle of fresh produce, stunned. 'Dating? Cute?'
That was a thought for later. Much later. As in, never. That sounded good. There were too many complications involved with such an approach, too complicated a matter for a simple man like himself. Where had the idea come from, the infatuated ramblings of a young woman that had seen so little of the world? There were many others, far more worthy individuals she could pursue.
'Big rewards don't come free,' an older saying came to mind. 'Is she worth it?'
That seemed an inane question. But not one to ponder in the center of produce. Heads lettuce may have had, but they were not conducive to aiding thought. 'Next best thing to bein' in a field, though.'
He turned back to the important business: selecting appropriate vegetables. There'd need to be a celebratory meal with the signing of the Act, and what better way than a good ol' fashioned potluck?
"How you doin' during the lockdown?" Bixley continued, almost bouncing by his cart like an oversized child. "Only lasted a little while– what're folks going to do in a riot out here? Tip cows?"
Leif shook his head, doubting his hearing. "Lockdown?"
"Oh sure," Bixley caught onto Leif's direction, grabbing a box of tomatoes. "Maybe you didn't get one way out where you live. We had a lockdown here, maybe a month or two, just to keep things from going crazy. Not that anyone really paid any attention to it."
"Huh." Leif grunted again. What was he there for again?
"Beans," he started to move towards the appropriate location, then changed his mind. There would be a crate or two in his truck, which Fanchon would be picking up in her 'human with a cute headband' disguise. Which reminded him of another chore that needed to be done. One he'd neglected for years, never thinking it would be necessary. What were the odds of a bachelor-farmer sinking to his neck in constant, unexpected company? Not him, that was certain.
Bixley still hung at his elbow, chattering about nonsense, until he … stopped. The sound of his mellow baritone was soothing in a way, and its sudden absence was noticeable. The man's hanging jaw suggested mental disturbance of some sort, along with the glazed eyes and quiet hummana hummana hummana sounds.
Leif concentrated on his hearing. There was an absence of sound behind him and to the left. He held out a bag. "What you think, Frenchy?"
Manicured nails and toned arms took the cantaloupe, holding it up to a mostly human nose. "It is not five star restaurant material," she answered. "But it has potential."
"Yeah." Leif accepted the load back once more, hiding an internal smirk. Bixley, he could see, was staring at Fanchon, putting facts together. When realization hit, it was visible across his entire face, an illumination visible from across the parking lot. Leif decided to keep him off balance, and looked at Fanchon. "Done here?"
"Oui," she tucked a strand of dark hair back. "The packages are loaded, and strapped down. Except for this, of course."
"Right." He looked down at the half-full cart. "Good enough. I'll check out, you call home? Got one more errand."
Without responding, Fanchon stepped away, withdrawing a cell phone from her purse. She was lifting it towards her ear when she seemed to realize how high it was going, gave Leif an apologetic look, and hurried for the exit.
A small squeak from the cart's unmaintained wheels was the only thing keeping the silence from growing uncomfortable. Leif's steps were unhurried, casual, in comparison to the dragging heels of his chance-companion.
"Was that …." Bixley whispered. "Is she …?"
Leif raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"You know!" Bixley made a flurried motion with one hand. "Her ears! They weren't on the side of her head, were they?"
"Don't know what you're sayin'," Leif kept a bland face. One long arm reached out, grabbing a bag of russet potatoes, an easy ten pound bag. He'd carry it in one hand rather than spend time stopping the cart and loading it.
Bixley almost whimpered. "Please tell me. Is it true? Do you have a girlfriend that's a catgirl?"
Sighing, Leif shook his head. "Sorry."
"Oh." Now the other man's face looked almost flaccid, disappointment written on every feature. "You had my hopes up. Wait, do you have a girlfriend?"
Leif rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Me. Right."
The look of pure disappointment on the other man's face was too great to bear. Throwing him a bone wouldn't be too much, would it? Unless he was being corrupted by the liminals now, all that empathy expected of him. 'Great. Turning me into a simpering weakling.'
He'd work on that later.
"Drive out to the ranch sometime. We'd love to see you."
Bixley looked surprised, but pleased. "Sure, I'd like that. Hold it – we?"
Leif wheeled the cart away, nodding a farewell. Whatever little thoughts pattered through his acquaintance's brain, Leif hoped there was no risk of cross-contamination. It took months to build a proper train of thought, and minutes to teach some idiot a bad habit. There were times that he questioned his own competence; surrounding himself with people was one such source of concern.
He was already out the door by the time Bixley started moving again. Leif hurried without hurrying, a trick most farmhands learned when working around multi-ton dangers. The groceries went into the pickup bed, tucked into a close-topped container next to the cardboard boxes already strapped down tight.
Leif took a moment to admire their square knots, the professional-looking way the ropes kept the boxes from moving. Inertia was as dangerous as anything else; accidents happened, and anything not strapped down could become a projectile. Death by a can of beans after all the recent trouble would be ignominious. Humiliating. Ignoble.
'Gotta pick up a new thesaurus,' he remembered. 'Old one's getting' a bit dog-eared.'
He slid into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut with a clang. "Ready?"
Fanchon sat on the passenger side, looking prim. "Yes. Lady Yidderman and Miss Aredhel have returned, and promise to exercise great care with your livestock."
"Good. Gonna need your help on this one." Leif felt his stomach clench. Asking for help went against the grain, like a chainsaw encountering a nail deep in a tree trunk. It threatened his mental stability, his sense of pride.
"Of course, sir. How may I help?" Fanchon looked nonchalant, but her tail was whipping back and forth.
Leif forced down a sense of dread. Among the many things he was, he wasn't stupid. To not ask for help would be the height of idiocy. Yet despite that certainty was an undercurrent of reluctance, bordering on fear. Fear was something to be conquered.
He fixed his attention on Fanchon's light green eyes. Her pupils dilated, seeming nervous. Leif swallowed.
"I need to buy a cell phone."
The store was small, as standard big-box stores went. The width stretched less than a barn's floor, and went back a few dozen feet. But the proprietor knew their stock, arranging each select piece in a way that guided the eye towards its features. A series of square tables occupied part of the floor, inset computer monitors providing visual readouts for employees and the customers.
Leif looked down at the device in his hands, something that appeared to be the illegitimate offspring of a calculator and a television set. While not his first time holding such an instrument, it was the first time he was holding one with intent to own.
'Is that a power socket?'
He tilted the thing to one side. The opening looked small, too tiny for a grounded cable, round too. The entire contraption was less than half an inch thick, and fit in the palm of his hand … if he were a giant. Black plastic surrounded a rune-filled screen, hieroglyphs denoting letters or symbols. For all he knew pushing a button would sound anti-theft alarms, or a cattle-prod.
'That would be useful,' Leif glanced back at his companion, the French neko chattering with the sales representative. 'Won't have something like that on a floor model though.'
Sighing, Leif put it down. Another model hung close by, slanted to show off its sleek sides and slim design. Some customers might consider it a rakish angle, but he'd been through enough horse auctions to recognize showmanship. All the samples resembled each other, gleaming surfaces of chrome, modern lighting and smooth sides. Just the feel was an experience in cheap construction; dropping one would break its fragile casing he was certain.
None were built to last.
"Tch." Giving up sounded delightful – but the entire point wasn't about what he wanted.
Faint footfalls approached from behind. Leif turned to see Fanchon holding out a small device. "This one may be for what you seek?"
He took it. This device had a folded design, presenting the sturdier portions for potential damage. It wasn't metal, but it didn't seem flimsy, either. Opening it like a clam revealed recognizable buttons, like a traditional phone that hung on the wall. The top half was a digital screen, but the mere presence of physical buttons reduced its complexity by exponential values.
"Data plan?" The idea of paying varying amounts based on how often one spoke was an old one – the first telegraphs paid by the letter. But paying to send pictures, to have an object you owned and yet did not? It was better to leave the hard details to the experts.
"Une excellente affaire – ah, a good deal," Fanchon smiled. "The Exchange will pay for half the bill, which a federal contract then enables. Unlimited texting, and long distance calls, yes?"
He turned the cell phone over. Its weight was less than reassuring, but at least it didn't make his skin crawl like the featherweight constructs balanced on little bits of plastic. The price tag sitting on the paperwork felt like price gouging, but it was an investment.
"Long distance?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Fanchon shrugged, fingers playing with the hem of her short jacket. "As the situation develops, more communication you will need. Others will call you for advice; it is best to plan ahead, non?"
"Yah," Leif closed his eyes, and gave a mental farewell to a happy life of silence. "Let's do it."
"Bon!" Fanchon almost squealed, spinning back to the enraptured store clerk. The giddiness appeared to spread, taking the form of what even Leif considered to be a sappy smile. They began exchanging words at rates he couldn't understand, leaving broad smiles on both faces.
'Don't want to know,' he decided. 'Some things mankind wasn't met to know. At least half of 'em have to do with women.' His neutral expression gained a frown. 'Mankind includes women, right? Explains why things go so crazy if half of a population doesn't know how the other half works. Throw liminals into the mix and … half and half and half? Criminently. What've I gotten myself into?'
With luck, he'd survive. Intact, and all limbs attached. Being in his right mind would be helpful, too. Unless being involved with women as much as he was now was driving him into insanity. Like … talking … to … himself ….
'Dagnabbit.'
"Thank you, come again!"
Leif grunted at the cheerful clerk, accepting the multiple bags of high-calorie, low-nutrition sustenance. There were better places to acquire food or he could've simply left well enough alone until reaching home once more, but when a neko's stomach began growling something had to be done.
"Thank you mi—Leif!" Fanchon accepted the bags with near manic intensity, pulling them onto the seat at her side. Her small hands dipped inside, withdrawing their contents. Her stomach growled again, louder this time, eliciting a blush.
Leif ignored it, and eased down on the accelerator. His old truck fired up with the smooth rumble of well-maintained machinery. Checking the wing mirrors, he backed out of the strip mall's parking lot, and pulled forward, merging into traffic. The sun was almost down, ensuring the slow wind chilled to the very bone. Winter in Montana did not forgive.
Behind, the trailer groaned a sympathetic counterpoint to every bump the truck experienced. While old, the vehicle's trailing counterpart was solidly built. Leif felt confident it would last another few years with minor repairs. Fortunate – the harvest was good, but it was always nice to save a little more in the bank.
"Here you go!" a large sandwich made its presence known at Leif's side. He glanced at the highway, accepted the offered food, and bit in. Industrial-prepared meat, wrapped in processed cheese, vegetables and a bun met his taste buds.
The flavor reminded him of the city. So much artificial content. Addictive. Available in massive quantities … people wanted it because it made life easier, or because there wasn't anything else.
'Did I just compare life to a burger?' Leif flicked the headlights on. Further away than she had been before, Fanchon was devouring her second burger, tossing down French fries every few bites like popcorn. 'Is she really that fond of junk food? City slicker and all that, but still.'
A faint moan caught the edge of his hearing. Without looking he could almost feel the neko freeze, then resume eating, at a slower pace.
Setting the burger down at his side, Leif flicked on the radio. Volume covered a multitude of sins, even those accidental in nature. 'Might need to get her to town more often. Sounds like she likes that city flavor a lot.'
His thoughts were interrupted by a blaring sound on the radio. Frowning, Leif twisted the volume knob upwards. A mechanical voice began intoning a warning – one that didn't appear to be the usual warning.
"What … another storm?" Fanchon's hand was frozen mid-air, holding a lengthy piece of breaded chicken.
"Been in the works," Leif focused on the counties reeling off the machine-announcer's voice. "Yep. That's us."
Crunching sounds came from Fanchon's fist, crushing the fried food.. Glancing at her, Leif could see that her eyes were scanning the overcast skyline. To the west cumulus clouds towered over the over the visible horizon, highlighted by the setting sun.
"We're four hours away. We can't make it in time!"
From a newcomer's viewpoint, Leif supposed the threat seemed imminent. In a certain sense, it was. But to two travelers, it wasn't.
"We got time," he squinted over the steering wheel, seeking out what flags he could see. They all pointed his way, standing straight east. Overhead the cirrus clouds were travelling at a ludicrous rate. Were he on his own two feet he could predict a more accurate speed, but the moving truck didn't really change much in the grand scheme of things. "After midnight."
The neko seemed agitated still, so he cast about for anything to discuss. "So. Like fast food, eh?"
He withheld the obligatory facepalm – form his limited understanding, women did not like to be reminded about their diet. Or a suggestion that they needed one. It was a dangerous topic.
"You saw that, yes? Ah. It is, how do you say? Difficult to explain." Fanchon was blushing, probably. In the dim lighting it was hard to tell. "When young, I was, we did not access such foods. Hidden, we needed to be. Lady Yidderman needed to hide more, but even so she did not want such things. But our home, it was behind a store. So all day we could smell it. Sometimes mère would get us some. She could wear a hat that covered her ears. Père would be so busy, and come home hungry. But we could smell it always, but never have it."
Leif blinked. This was the most she'd ever spoken in one sentence since they'd met. Obviously, this was important to her, although food from … no. 'Not the food. Memories. Family. Homesick.'
"Huh." He switched the highlights down, then back up again as a truck passed the other way. State highways were two lanes, people were going home after a day of work. Or running from the storm. He dragged himself back on topic. "What's your favorite place?"
She brightened. The chicken strip was already halfway gone in the brief interlude; where she put it all was a mystery. "In France, we have many American restaurants. We do, after all, make the greatest food in the world. But we loved the Pizza Hut, and the McDonald's. My most favorite was the fried chicken …."
Leif chuckled as the neko seemed to realize her hand was already scraping the bottom of the next bag. "Fill your boots. We're gonna be drivin' a while."
"Are … you sure?" she held out a second sandwich. "You bought so much. Are you not hungry?"
He shrugged. "Was gonna put what we didn't eat in the fridge. Got groceries. Go ahead, we ain't starvin'. Life is good, y'know?"
The wrapper made a crinkling noise as she unwrapped it. Her eyes were staring at him in a way that made Leif feel uncomfortable.
"Oui," her eyes closed as she inhaled the aroma of meat and cheese. "It is."
[break]
A stiff wind picked up by the time Leif could make out the mailbox for the ranch. Bits of congealed water had started their collective assault, too small to be sleet, too hard to be mist. Headlights made the invisible particulates dance in fog-like patterns, swirling around his passage like ethereal creatures from beyond the mortal realm.
Well behind the mailbox, obscured by the small stand of trees, he could make out the ranch house's lights. The curtains were drawn, filtering multi-spectrum bulb radiance to an orange hue. No unexpected vehicles of chrome-and-sable coloration were positioned in the drive, no bullet holes were appearing in the windshield, which seemed an improvement.
He took a surreptitious look at the cat-eared woman napping on the bench seat. Her knowledge of the fast-food restaurants bordered on encyclopedic; surprising given the attitude he'd seen so far. Her re-programming of his new cell phone had been almost painless, too.
Grudgingly, he raised his estimation a notch. Her enthusiasm was just hidden behind an overly -civilized veneer. 'Once you get her goin', she don't stop. Like that Energizer Bunny ….'
A thought crossed his mind. Were there rabbit-like individuals out there? And were they closer to actual rabbits or hares? Wild hares were as similar to rabbits as the coyote was to a Jack Russel terrier. How had he gotten on the subject?
He looked down. Fanchon was curled up under his jacket again, regular breaths proving her somnambulant state. For once, Leif hesitated. 'Wake her up here, let her sleep? Don't want to scare her, strange place and all … damn it look at me now. All I need now is to call up Wesson and talk about feelings. Maybe start a knitting circle, with little doilies and gossip about the neighbors.'
The door creaked open, letting a burst of cold air inside. Leif didn't look to see if the neko reacted, slamming the door with perhaps not as much force as he could have. 'Ninny. Turning into an old woman now.'
Another door opening caught his attention, he looked up, still moving to the truck's back. The house door was widening, yellow light spilling out towards him, and a pair of familiar faces peering out. Aredhel emerged first, her slim figure darting through the opening faster than Roanette's more solid build could manage. "A good trip?"
"Yep." Leif paused as Aredhel came to an awkward stop before him. He waited a beat, but when she said nothing more, took the initiative. "All well here?"
"As can be," she stepped aside as Roanette approached. "Mother is most irritated at your absence. If you could speak with her at your convenience?"
"Sure, sure." Leif turned to the newest greeter. "Ro', how wait-"
Leif's eyes bulged as the dark-haired centauride swept him up in a massive hug. His feet left the ground, making little kicking motions as if seeking the abandoned firmament. "Ro' … ng! Air!"
Roanette let him back down, gentle as thistledown. "I am glad to see you, Leif."
"Yeah," he sucked in a lung-full of precious atmosphere. "Nice … to see … you. Too."
"So then!" Roanette clapped her hands. "May we help you offload? And where is … you wore her out?"
Leif followed the centauride's gaze through the side window, where Fanchon's form was visible, curled up in the jacket still. "Long drive. She got tired, I guess."
"Oh really …" Aredhel smirked at him, carrying one of the boxes. "We must get her to tell us all about your trip, shall we not, Roanette?"
"Of course!" Roanette chirped. Her height advantage ensured the truck's sidewall proved no obstacle. "But I think she would appreciate being carried into the house, would you, Leif? She seems so tired. We can handle the supplies, right 'Red?"
"Certainly," Aredhel disappeared into the house, reappearing moments later. "The dogs are fed and in the kennel, the horses are fine, and I asked a few elves to stay with the cattle tonight. Your usual hands are already in place, so … please take responsibility for the woman you wore into exhaustion, Larsen."
He stopped and gave her a level look. "I may not be the sharpest bowling ball in the alley," he had to speak up as a gust of wind tugged at his shirtsleeves. "But I know when you and Ro' are tryin' somethin'."
"Who, us?" Roanette attempted to bat her eyelashes at him. The effort failed when an errant gust blew enough moisture to turn the playful action into a wincing attempt to clear her eyes. "Ack. Look. Trust us, please?"
Leif still hesitated. It felt of manipulation, being pushed into something. His musing came to nothing when the pickup door popped open on its own volition. Fanchon emerged, tugging the oversized sleeves across her hands. She darted forward past Leif, pausing just long enough to stretch up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you for the date. I loved it."
The neko gave a shy smile, then dashed up the sidewalk into the house, tail lashing in a self-satisfied fashion. He caught a glimpse of her shoes coming off in the hall, through the door hanging open.
'Date.' The thought jumped around the upper registers of his mind, ascending into terrified registers. 'Date? I was … shopping. Shopping. Right?'
"Oh, is that how we are doing it now?" Aredhel approached his other side, seeming almost as surprised as he. She gave a shrug. "Oh well. Thank you too, Larsen."
Leif hadn't moved, which left his other cheek open to being the recipient of another kiss. Feeling akin to a stunned trout, all he could do was watch the elf also retreat to the house, but emphasizing a swaying motion to her step that hadn't been there before. Or the wink aimed his way just after she cleared the threshold.
A heavy sigh emanated from above him to the right. This time Roanette came into view, looking irritated. "Of course she'd see this as a date. Europeans, both of them. Do not worry, it is a custom to kiss the cheek as greeting or farewell."
He started breathing easier. But then her tanned face was close to his, bright eyes glinting mischief. "They can be mistaken. But I will not. Thank you Leif."
Soft lips met his own, strong hands looped around his neck and the back of his head. The kiss went on for what felt like an hour, but in reality was perhaps a few seconds in length. There were no fireworks, no sudden feelings of inimitable passion, but … that was an option, Leif felt. Potential if he just hinted at desiring more.
Roanette pulled back, lowering to whisper next to his ear. "We will not push, we trust you to do the right thing. Maybe we can talk after the Interspecies Bill has been signed? Mm?" She bussed her lips over his own, and pulled away.
If he'd felt like a stunned trout before, now he felt as if he were an entire school of the game fish, under the surface of a pond that had just been hit with fifty thousand volts. Stunned lacked the true depth of confusion roiling through his mind.
Leif glanced at the barn. Its main door hung open, and Sophette stood in its opening, a broad smile etched on her face. The smile widened when she saw him looking. She clasped hands before her waist, looking down in a demure fashion before coquettishly peering back up at him from beneath long eyelashes.
"Good Lord, I'm dead." Leif took a deep breath. There were crates to unload, stupidity to enlighten, and … and … and ….
He couldn't help but laugh a little. "So very dead."
A/N: So, this chapter is brand new, written in the two weeks since the last chapter was released. I'll do my best to have the next chapter done inside two weeks, but there is no cushion now. There is minimal time to reflect over the chapter, so please Review or PM, let me know if there are errors that should be fixed.
Oh. And Happy Valentines Day.
