AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am sure you all thought I had abandoned this fic, but I haven't. See additional Author's Notes at the end.

xXx

A crash and muffled shout attracted the Matriarch's attention. "It appears that Tjat'le is losing his temper." Her voice was wry, as if she had expected the development.

"I caution you to keep what I have told you to yourselves. Panic will not help our cause." She looked squarely at Escthta. "And keep her close to you. There will be attempts on her life, and you must stop them."

"You say that like you've arranged them," Anise said uneasily. The Matriarch smiled, and in the context, it seemed markedly sinister. "H'chak-di, I do not expect that one so recently come to know our people would trust me immediately. But I see much, even into the hearts of those under my guidance, and what is there is not always pretty." She flicked a glance at Escthta, and then turned her attention back to Anise. "He was chosen because he was the best possible candidate to protect a human here, and I can think of few that would be a match for him."

Anise slid her eyes to Escthta, looking at him again, but almost for the first time. The silver rings around his lower tusks glinted, even in shadow. His eyes were strangely solemn, and he appeared very serious. The entire discussion had taken perhaps half an hour, but it seemed forever ago since she agreed to become the subject of experiments aimed at saving the lives of Hunters.

"Does Thtarok know?" Escthta had been quiet for some time and Anise recognized the pensive expression he wore, one mandible tapping slightly against his inner teeth.

Paya raised one brow and then shook her head. "He is a scientist, but his vision is limited by a crisis of faith." She smiled wanly. "Besides, you will have other concerns with him. He is not to be trusted, although we need him. He will be assisted by one of my own scientists, who reports to me personally."

Escthta nodded and then turned toward the doors, reaching out to push them open and then thinking better of it. Beyond these doors was a group of Hunters that feared him, found the human dangerous, and could not be trusted. All his life, the Council had dictated the whims of their society, the breedings and Bloodings that went on. The meeting with the Matriarch had changed everything. He was conspiring against the Council and keeping information from them, guarding and protecting what should be rightfully prey, and all because of a nebulous threat of species extinction from his God.

Escthta shook off the philosophical bent. There would be time later to reflect on the far-reaching implications of the bargain struck today between human and Hunter. But there were other things to consider. Like how a petite female human would be disguised in a world of giants.

xXx

Noskor looked up as Escthta entered the room. He caught the smell of c'ntha right away; it was a vice he indulged in himself, and he wondered to what use it had been put in the Matriarch's chambers. The human walked in Escthta's shadow, though not closely. She was distanced from him, her eyes downcast, while Escthta strode forward with shoulders back and head raised. Noskor flicked his eyes to the Matriarch. Her enigmatic smile moved across her face, and she closed the doors with both hands, shutting herself inside her chambers, and leaving the Elder, Escthta and the human standing in front of the Council's assemblage.

"Where is Thtarok?" Noskor looked at Escthta again, his once protégé, and felt a stab of guilt. He had sent the young Psionic on what might have been a deadly mission, but he had returned, with the appropriate object. Escthta must have spent days evaluating possible specimens, ruling out those that were beyond child-bearing age, those with families (because revenge is a powerful motivator) and those that were too emotionally fragile to make the trip. How many scores of human women had he looked through?

"He is not here." Noskor glanced at Tjat'le, who was still looking ruffled from the long time they had spent in the Matriarch's company. Noskor didn't truly believe that Escthta was any more capable of mutinous intent than he was. However, Kvar'ye's words had gotten to Tjat'le, and the Council Leader was watching the human and her Protector warily.

"I speak for the human when I say that we are eager to begin the experiments. The sooner we begin, the sooner they will conclude, and things can return to normal." Noskor nodded and then looked at Hir'cyn. The Elder's eyes were focused elsewhere, and Noskor made a mental note to speak with him later.

xXx

Cthinde stared moodily into his bowl. The alcohol hadn't given him the loosened inhibitions he'd hoped for. He waited, but the laughter never came, and he grew more and more sullen as he drank. Escthta was down on the homeworld, turning the human in to the Council, but he had been gone for a day already. Cthinde was eager to get their next Hunting assignment, but he had heard nothing from Escthta, nothing from the Council, nothing, period.

Where the hell was he? They had Hunts to go on, and he had to be there. They had been friends since Blooding, since before then, and it wouldn't be right to leave him. It wouldn't be right to abandon him.

With each hour that passed, his restlessness grew, and his darkest corners of his mind spoke treasonous thoughts; Escthta was getting his own Clan or planning to take over the Zanna. He drowned them with drink. Escthta may have been acting strangely, but that was to be expected around humans. He would wait for Escthta to contact him. If he hadn't done so before, there could only be a good reason for it. And yet…the mutinous voices grew more subtle, more cunning, poisoning his mind against the human, who was taking up his friend's precious time.

xXx

Escthta sighed inwardly, deciding that perhaps it was better that the scientist had slunk off to parts unknown. He felt exhausted, although they had only been awake for three hours at the most. He wanted a meal and a drink, and he lifted his hand to his temple, rubbing at it and hoping the headache that was forming would reconsider its timing. He looked down at H'chak-di, her dark head bowed. He needed to secure H'chak-di somewhere.

Escthta moved into her personal space, and she responded as he thought she would, by moving away. They moved out of the Council chambers and down the long hallways, into the foyer, where the great skull of the carnivore rested, bathed in soft white light. The bone nearly glowed, and H'chak-di stopped at it, and her voice was small.

"These things have been dead for millions of years."

Escthta blinked. Humans had never shared a planet with the carnivore in question, but the enormous predator had been brought down only six hundred years ago, in the one of the last of the Great Hunts. Most trophies were destroyed with their hunters, but this one, hunted by the last Council, survived as a testament to the brutal wilderness outside the City. "Perhaps in your world, H'chak-di. They are very much alive in ours."

The car awaited them outside, its dark, driverless shell cracking to admit them. Escthta nudged H'chak-di inside and then turned to find Hir'cyn paused at the threshold, looking over his shoulder as if he had forgotten something. Escthta frowned, but when he was about to ask after the problem, Hir'cyn raised a hand. "I will meet with you later, Escthta. The quarters that were yours last night are now yours permanently, so far as your Protection is required." Distracted by some unknown noise, he looked over his shoulder again, and then made an offhanded wave of dismissal, disappearing into the Council building again.

Escthta seated himself in the car, staring at the closing doors of the Council, the black hall disappearing behind them, and Hir'cyn's figure vanishing inside. He shook his head slightly, clearing the confusion from it; he had been able to sense little of Hir'cyn's intent, little of his emotional state, and he had heard nothing in their meetings with the Matriarch or since that could require Hir'cyn's attention.

That left himself and H'chak-di alone in the car. She was seated across from him, her hand folded in her lap, the plain silvery sheets he had brought her so long ago forsaken for the simple shift in the baths. He smiled inwardly; of course, saviors always dressed in rags. She was stone-faced, her eyes downcast. Her hair curtained her face, and her mind was equally veiled. He could feel pain, anger, confusion and sorrow, but these things were not new in her mind. Perhaps the difference was in the rings his tusks bore, perhaps the difference was in the c'ntha. Something had changed between the time they had entered the building and now.

"Thank you again, H'chak-di."

"No problem." Her answer was sour, and she stared out the window to avoid looking at him.

He frowned. "I know it was a difficult decision for you, but I am grateful. I do not yet know the full scope of this experiment, but I will not let harm come to you as long as I am alive."

"I'm sure they'd have no problem killing us both."

"It would mean their death."

"Many people die for causes."

"And what cause is that?"

"Your Council, of course." She made an offhanded shrug in his direction. "It's obvious that the only power they have is the Matriarch's." She said no more, offering no insight on her train of thought.

"H'chak-di," he began again, eager to shake off the clipped parts of their conversation, "I am not concerned with the Council or their power plays. I am charged with your safety and I intend to fulfill my obligation."

She snorted quietly, and he frowned. Waves of resentment moved beyond the perimeters of her mind, washing over him in a noxious tide. He couldn't identify its source, but he wasn't very well equipped to confront it in any case. The sun had reached its peak, shining down on the robot car, and even the tinted windows did not block the rays fully. He shaded his eyes with a hand; H'chak-di, opposite him, was subject to much of the same glare, but only screwed her pale face into a grimace.

The car slowed, pulling up along the side of the building they had left only a few hours before. Escthta stepped out of the car, looking around, and then opening the entry. H'chak-di slid out of the car, sullen, and lagged behind him as they walked down the halls. The door to their suite slid aside and they stepped inside. Escthta turned around, and then clicked at her encouragingly.

"These will be our quarters indefinitely."

Her silence became less sullen and more shocked. "But… I have to share a room with you?"

Escthta blinked. Nudity and communal living were cornerstones of yautja life. Everyone saw their companions nude; it completed the sense of community, of togetherness, and without barriers, they worked more efficiently as a team. That kind of cohesion was necessary on the more challenging Hunts, like the ones for breeding kainde amedha Queens. But of course, H'chak-di shared no such nudity, no such communion with him or his Clan members. Of course she would not want to share a room with him; it was an invasion of her personal space. He would respect her wishes, of course, were it not for the specters of assassination that loomed like shadows at sunset.

"I must be near you. The Matriarch said there will be attempts on your life. I have no reason to believe they would not come while we slept."

"Who knows that I'm here, other than the Council, the Elder, your whole ship and the Matriarch?" There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice, but Escthta ignored it.

"No place is safe from curious ears, H'chak-di. The presence of a human would cause a panic, so we can safely assume that the general public doesn't know."

"But there are factions in your Council. Like that big ugly one. You can just tell he's got something going on." She trailed off even as she finished.

Escthta stared at her, wondering if she found him ugly as well, if he was so one-dimensional in her mind. He looked at her, noting her expression had changed from a sulk to uncertainty. The walls around her mind were crumbling, falling in on themselves, slowly exposing her to him again. Eager to chip away at that crack in her façade, he could not help asking, "Which big ugly one?"

"I don't know- they were all ugly."

Escthta's mandibles twitched in amusement. He would naturally refrain from telling her how many of the stares directed at her had been in disgust. Bruyaun, in particular, was known to have a weak constitution, but then again, he was just as likely to be the 'big ugly one' as any other member of the Council. "You amaze me, H'chak-di," he said, his mandibles clicking amiably. "Which big ugly one indeed," he chuckled.

She smiled uneasily, human laughter from his mouth seeming out of place. "Do we have to stay in this room? Couldn't we move to another?"

Escthta rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "This place is not suitable?"

"There aren't any windows."

It was true. There were no windows; this was an interior suite, protected on all sides by walls. He frowned; windows would leave them exposed, vulnerable to attack from another side. There was no arguing; windows would not work.

H'chak-di seemed to sense his conclusion and hazarded an interception. "Even little windows?"

Escthta drew breath in deeply and then nodded. "Here, for tonight. Tomorrow, I will see about getting one with windows." She smiled weakly and then nodded. She moved toward the second half of the room, trailing her hand over the bed, the coverlet still wrinkled from the previous evening's sleep.

"So what will be required of me?"

Escthta turned to find her seated on her bed, swinging her feet, looking down at her hands. The question seemed more forced than anything else, and he felt her fear and apprehension swelling.

"You have agreed to be a subject for testing. I do not know what that will encompass. Only Thtarok will know what such testing will require." He saw again, in the corner of his mind, the faintest red glimmer of Thtarok's fantasies, and he spoke quickly. "I am not going to abandon you to him. I am your Protector, no one else."

Her voice was small. "Yeah."

He could not read her thoughts, but sensed a great turmoil inside her small skull. He sighed quietly. It had already been a long day, and there were still many hours before night fell. The midday meal would be brought soon; at least that might numb the bite of his suddenly upset stomach.

xXx

Hir'cyn rode in the car with his newly acquired charge. He had been surprised at how easy it was to obtain him, but of course, the Matriarch would compensate his owner for his loss. He looked at the other yautja in the car, and down at the ugly misshapen foot, talons ingrown, callused at strange angles as he walked on it.

His request had been impulsive, but he did not regret it. He told himself it was his way of protecting the human, by obtaining the Council's slave, who had seen her. But he knew that argument did not hold water; the groomers in the bath house had seen her, as surely as the slaves aboard the Zanna had. But he made up for his faulty reasoning with his plans for the future. He outlined his requests on a thin piece of telefilm, the plastic sheet equipped with an upload device for communication. Tomorrow, he would begin his own contribution to what he had begun to think of as the 'Great Experiment'.

xXx

The midday meal came and left with few events. H'chak-di asked about the meal, and what it included, and she seemed relieved when he told her that the meat did not come from humans, and the grain was produced by low-lying swamps near the City. She asked about their world, and Escthta was forced to admit that he knew little of it.

"You mean your entire population is concentrated in this huge city?"

Escthta nodded. "Thousands of years ago, our people were scattered in many, many small tribes over this world. Some were great, building cities for themselves, while others had little more than the skins on their backs. In an effort to unite us, this great City was built, and all the tribes moved into it. From there, our civilization developed rapidly until we developed space travel."

"But weren't there people that didn't want to live in this City?"

"Of course," Escthta acknowledged with a gesture of his drinking bowl,"but their ancestors have since been welcomed into the City. We are a unified whole, and the tribes no longer exist."

"So, why unite in the first place?"

Escthta frowned. "There are many reasons, each of which by themselves would be reason enough. The large predators changed their hunting habits, seeking out small villages and snatching residents. Some parts of the planet became inhospitable." He shrugged. "It was best for all of us."

"Hmm." She looked thoughtful and he wondered what she was turning over in her mind. Escthta took advantage of the pause and opened his own line of questions.

"I have been wondering something these past weeks, and now that I have the chance to ask, I will." He took a deep breath and then asked, "What is that band you wear around your finger?"

"It's my wedding ring." She stopped eating, looking at the gold band her third finger bore. She didn't offer any other explanation, so after a moment, Escthta pressed the question.

"What does it do?"

"It doesn't do anything. Humans exchange wedding rings and vows when they become partners. They vow to love, honor and cherish each other until death parts them. Sometimes they live a long time, sometimes… they don't."

He sensed that she considered the matter closed, but he filed it away to ask about again at a later date. He was about to ask another question when she put her drinking bowl on the table and got to her feet. She walked over to her bed and lay down, and they did not speak for the rest of the day.

xXx

Hir'cyn tapped gently on the sumcom. The hour was late; he had spent the large part of the day getting his new slave cleaned and deloused, checked out by the medics and prepared for the next day. It was well after sundown when Hir'cyn arrived at Escthta's quarters. The Gift of Tongues had given him articulate human speech, and he could only wonder what the younger yautja had gleaned from H'chak-di.

Escthta allowed him into the room after seeing the Elder's familiar face. "Greetings, Elder."
Hir'cyn dismissed the honorific with a wave of his hand. "The human?"

"Asleep."

Hir'cyn hid his disappointment; he had been eager to use Escthta's new ability to ask questions about humans, communicate directly with the enigmatic creatures he had so often hunted, their skulls decorating his walls. In his old age, he was prizing the skull less, and lusting after the grey matter inside it, with all its mysterious secrets.

"You've had her here all day. Surely she cannot have slept that long."

Escthta shook his head. "She hasn't. I am still not entirely sure what happened, but I am afraid some of my earliest questions touched a nerve."

"It would appear that females of either species are sensitive," Hir'cyn offered by way of apology. He clapped Escthta on the back. "Don't let it worry you. Things will be right in the morning. Sleep improves their tempers."

Escthta nodded slowly, and then moved to pour a small drink. He handed Hir'cyn one small cup, taking the other for himself, the ruddy liquor obscuring the polished stone's grain. He sipped at it thoughtfully, reclining on a floor cushion before addressing Hir'cyn. "What was it you had to take care of earlier?"

Hir'cyn looked up, preoccupied, and then took a long draught of his drink. "I have acquired a new… property. You remember the slave with the club foot?"

Escthta nodded and then Hir'cyn gestured vaguely with his cup. "I own him now."

Escthta raised one brow, tilting his head at a quizzical angle. "Why him?"
Hir'cyn smiled, a toothy grin between his mandibles, and then said, "I intend to conduct my own experiments."

"What kind of experiments?"
"Well, nothing like H'chak-di's experiment, if that's what you're imagining. A social experiment, if you will."

"Oh?"

"We hate those that are ugly or different and enslave them. Rightfully so; they can't pull their own weight in society, so they must be supported by those of us that can. What if one of those untouchables was made whole again? What might happen?"

Escthta shrugged; the question had never occurred to him before. Those born with defects or deformities were killed or enslaved, if their ugliness could be borne. That there might be another way to handle the matter was never broached in conversation- that's the way things were.

"I have heard," continued Hir'cyn, "of a medic of high caliber, one who may change the body at will. Granted," he said, holding up a clawed hand at Escthta's beginnings of protest," granted, it is against our teachings, against Paya's will, that we undo that with which she has made us."

He finished his drink and set the cup down. "But there are those who were not born, but made deformed."

"Made deformed? By whom? And for what reason?"

"I am not sure, but I am sure that Rathde's situation is not unique." He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "I mean to undo the injury that was visited on him, return to him his unaltered form." Escthta blinked several times. It didn't seem to make sense; how would they be able to tell slaves from able-bodied yautja? And then he looked at Hir'cyn, his face flush with realization.

"You wouldn't be able to tell him from any other yautja. He'd be just like the rest of us." Hir'cyn nodded slowly, his eyes meeting Escthta's. Escthta felt from him a frenzy, an exuberance that threatened to burst out of his whispered conspiracy and become a full-throated cry for freedom.

"That's your social experiment," Escthta breathed, his mind whirling with the boldness of it. What would happen to their social structure? Who would take in the miscreants? How would they Hunt? Would they be educated? Rehabilitated? How would the yautja culture function without its slaves? Could it function at all?

"I have been spending time in the library, reading early accounts of life in the City. There have been no mentions of slaves anywhere. In fact," Hir'cyn said, refilling his cup, "there are no mentions of slaves before the City, either." He downed the liquor in one gulp, wincing at the slight burn and then sighing at the warmth in his belly.

"Slavery is an artificial construct of this City, and yautja were never meant to be treated this way. We are a proud people, and to be mangled and brutalized, not permitted the release of death- it's dishonorable," he finished, his face beginning to show the flush of alcohol. Escthta clicked gently at the Elder. "I think we've had enough discussion. It is late, and our day begins early tomorrow."

xXx

Morning came early for Hir'cyn. He rose when the sun was only a pale blush on the horizon, urging Rathde up from his pallet. Rathde's disposition had been much improved by a full meal and bath, though the shifty look had returned this morning, his eyes distrustful. When Hir'cyn approached him, Rathde seethed with hate and fear.

"Get up. We're going out."

"I don't want to."

Hir'cyn sighed heavily, and then kicked Rathde sharply in the ribs. "When I say get up, you get up," he hissed, pulling the whimpering slave up from his cot.

Rathde hesitated a moment more before reluctantly getting to his feet. Hir'cyn looked at him, trying to quash the repulsion he felt. In a way, the Great Experiment was as much on himself as Rathde. The challenge would not be to retrofit mistreated slaves like Rathde, free them into the public, but to overcome the instinctual urge to kill that was ingrained in every one of them.

"Where are we going?"

"That's not any of your concern." Hir'cyn waited for Rathde as he limped out of their suite. He saw that Escthta and H'chak-di's room was still occupied, the sumcom a faintly glowing red. He would join them again later, after he had taken care of Rathde.

The early morning sun cast wide swaths of light into the automated car. Hir'cyn quickly put his instructions into the drive unit, making sure that it would not pass too near to the medic's operations, as he had requested. Any Elder or higher rank could access the logs of the car's arrival and departure. They would have to walk a small distance to reach the medic, but that was better than someone figuring out his destination too quickly. His comings and goings were being watched, and while he didn't hope to throw someone off completely, he hoped to confuse them enough that his trail would not be followed by any but the most determined.

Rathde was impossibly slow, his misshapen foot unused to anything but the polished stone in the Council's building. By the time they reached the point where they would be turning to meet the medic, raw sores had opened up on the bottom of his foot, leaving a damp green spot with every step. The way to the entrance lay through a filthy alley, as all dens of illegal activity did. Hir'cyn worried only momentarily about forcing Rathde to walk through it on his lacerated foot. It wouldn't matter much either way. Rathde, to his credit, was silent, enduring whatever pain he felt with a small measure of dignity.

The entrance was recessed into the wall, behind what appeared to be a stack of metal pallets. The whole construct, pallets and all, rolled to the side smoothly, with no noise, and admitted them inside. The door began closing before Rathde even began to move forward, and it was Hir'cyn's strong arm that pulled him inside.

The interior was brightly lit, sterile, and two medics rushed up to take custody of their patient. "What are you doing?"

Rathde keened as they picked him up and put him on a gurney. The gurney's suspensor system whined as the weight was put on it, and Rathde began to thrash.

"Where are you taking me? What's going on?"

"Quiet, slave." Hir'cyn regretted the word as it left his mouth, but it had the effect he wanted; it reminded him that Rathde was not in control of his own destiny, and that Hir'cyn had control over that, whatever it might be.

Rathde's eyes narrowed as he met the Elder's unflinching stare. Hir'cyn had to hand it to him; even after who knew how many years of mistreatment and neglect, he was still rebellious. It was not something Hir'cyn tolerated in yautja, slaves or otherwise. When he said something, he wanted a response, clear-cut and immediate. "Take him," he said to the medics, and fell into step behind them.

Down a hallway and around the corner, large white doors with no windows waited, and behind them another hallway. Hir'cyn could feel a downward slope in the muscles of his calves, and they passed around another corner. Back and forth they went, until finally the white walls gave way to grey, and a final set of white doors opened onto an immaculate operation room. Preoccupied with an instrument stand, the medic was alone in the center of the room.

His name was not important, not now. The lower half of his face was hidden in a swath of sterile fabric, his thin hands already in gloves. "Glad you could make it," he said icily.

"We had a deal."

"Of course. So we did." Medic looked over at Rathde. "Is this the patient?"

"Yes."

Medic touched a tool to the suspensor readout; it calibrated the needle to inject just the right amount for Rathde's body weight. The slave struggled, but the two assistants held him fast. The sedative worked in minutes, calming Rathde and steadying his heartbeat.

"With that out of the way, we can get down to business," the medic said, his sentences clipped. He moved down to Rathde's foot, examining it. After a few moments of poking it and turning it, he looked up at Hir'cyn.

"I would have to scan him to be sure, but his foot has almost surely been broken and set improperly." His voice thickened with disgust. "Hobbling is rare, because it reduces a slave's effectiveness, but it does still occur."

"I was given the impression that it was done as a punishment."

"Punishment?"

"He was a Blooded Hunter. Look at his head." Medic looked, tracing the Blooding mark with one gloved finger. "This does change things," he murmured, but did not elaborate. He straightened, and marking Hir'cyn's keen stare, sighed.

"We have two options, and as his owner, I'll leave it up to you to decide which one we proceed with. The first is amputation. Since we are capable of limited regeneration, I can give him a new foot from a donor, which his body will replace with its own cells in time. It is a long surgery, but he should have use of the leg within a few days, maybe less. He will need to take anti-rejection drugs for several years, but after his body has gone through one cell replacement, the dose can be tapered off and stopped."

Hir'cyn absorbed the information, and the Medic continued. "The other option is re-breaking his foot and setting it correctly. It would be quick- you could leave immediately- but he would require constant physical therapy for several months to overcome his limp after the bones have healed." The medic crisped his gloved hands together. "Those are your options, as I see them. I would recommend the second method, as it puts him to real work sooner, but he's your slave."

Hir'cyn looked down at Rathde, at the lines in his face eased by the chemical cocktail; without the constant fear marked in his face, he looked more his age, some 400 years. "I think the first method suits my needs better," Hir'cyn said finally.

The medic lifted one eyebrow in faint surprise, but nodded. "We will begin immediately."

xXx

Escthta woke long after the sun had risen. H'chak-di was sitting up in her bed, her head resting back against the wall. She heard him stir and moved her head to look at him.

"Good morning."

Escthta nodded sleepily. "Good morning."

"How did you sleep?"
"I slept well. And you?"

"All right." She looked down at her hands.

"H'chak-di, about yesterday-"

"Don't worry about it. I just...wasn't prepared to talk about it so suddenly. I should have expected questions like that, but even expecting them, I didn't know what to say." She lifted her head to look at him. "My husband, my partner, died eight months back. The mineral in those mines on Craxan Prime, it got in their lungs, got into their brains and killed them slowly."

Escthta was stunned silent; disease was rare in yautja, who took great pains to insulate themselves from the worlds they traveled. Their bodies had tough high pressure regimes, designed to keep contagions out of circulation, and they bathed rigorously. A healthy body was necessary to Hunt. To lose one's body was to lose everything; it was one reason why the deformed were so repulsive.

He stood, raking his nails over his abdomen, idly scratching itches that traveled over his skin. He had nearly woken completely when she finally said it.

"You killed my brother."

xXx

AUTHOR'S NOTE: At last, a chapter with significant length! This was not the place I had hoped to end it, but as I wrote it, it seemed like a logical stopping point for a chapter that had already exceeded 5000 words (!)

There are parts in this story where characters seem to say one thing and then turn around and do another; these are parts of their characters in transition.