"All you then have to do is to keep out of his mind the question, 'If I, being what I am, may consider that I am in some sense a Christian, why should the different vices of the people in the next pew prove that their religion is mere hypocrisy and convention?'"

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

Kodi didn't say much of anything for the next couple of days. He spent most of his time out on long runs, or in his room on the pretext of studying. He did try to study, but his thoughts kept cycling back around to the conversation with D'Nollah.

During a track meet, he finally broke his silence to Ralph; probably the fourth or fifth peer – Dusty included – to say he wasn't acting like himself. Why he chose that moment he had no idea, since ordinarily Ralph would have been the last dog he'd look to for advice. The only reason they even hung out was that Ralph's parents had volun-told him for the track team and the coach had offered Kodi extra credit for working with the out-of-shape newbie. It wasn't that Ralph was all that bad; they just had next to nothing in common.

Maybe it was just that Kodi was tired of brushing off or making excuses for his strange demeanor. Whatever the case, he ended up spilling the whole story while the two of them paused between laps in PE.

"Man," said Ralph when he'd heard the whole thing. "You saved his life and he actually said all that to you?"

Kodi nodded. "I still can't wrap my head around it either. What really bugs me, though, is that my parents never said anything about it."

Ralph shrugged. "Parents don't like to admit stuff like that. I didn't know either until I happened to spot my parents' wedding certificate."

Scrunching his face, Kodi stared at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it was only about five minutes after I saw it that I realized the date was six months after…"

Kodi's mind practically whited out, but quickly filled in with vehement indignation. "Now, hold on," he snapped. "My mom and dad were married years before I was born."

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean that," Ralph protested, raising his paws. "I just mean that pups come along at bad times sometimes, and parents don't like to tell if their kids were… you know, accidental."

For a long moment, Kodi felt literally burning with anger as he fought the urge to punch the dog in the face. "I am not an accident," he hissed.

Bigger though he was, Ralph blanched at the clearly evident chances that Kodi might lose control at any moment. "Okay, I believe ya. I'm just saying, maybe they thought you shouldn't have to know."

Kodi's stomach twisted itself in a knot as Ralph backed away and, for perhaps the first time in his life, actually showed an interest in running – or, at least, in running something other than his mouth. The young wolf-dog stared after him, anger giving way to a fresh wave of self-doubt.

He wasn't an accident. He was wanted. He was intentional… wasn't he?

As if he didn't have enough existential concerns to deal with, he almost snapped a half-hour later when Dusty asked him what was wrong.

"I'm not-!" he started to burst out before he caught himself. Meeting her startled gaze, he took a breath. "Sorry. I, uh, just had another training run with Ralph."

She didn't entirely believe it, but she nodded anyway. "Was he going on about his toenails again?"

Kodi almost laughed at that. If only it had been that simple. "Nah. Well, yeah, he brought that up too. But never mind."

Dusty eyed him warily. Whatever was going on, it had been going on for days, and she didn't believe for a second that it was due to a thick-headed classmate.

She decided to try another tack. "Are you guys still free to pick me up tonight?" she asked.

He blinked. "Tonight?" he echoed in confusion.

O-kay, he was officially not in his right mind. "Evening church."

"Oh, right." He thumped a paw to his forehead. His family often went to a special service on Wednesday nights, and Dusty had asked to go this week because she'd had a family thing Sunday. "Sorry. I guess I've really been preoccupied. Anyone else coming?"

Dusty's family were still 'works in progress' on that front, but occasionally one or another of them had tagged along to church. She shook her head, though. "Nope, not this week. And I'm actually kind of glad, as bad as that sounds. It's kind of like a mini-date this way." She slipped her paw into his meaningfully.

Kodi nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is." He fought the urge to look away in distraction, almost as if he felt guilty just standing here talking with her. "I… well, I know I've been off the last couple of days. It's just… I'm trying to figure something out."

"Like what?"

He found himself at a standstill. He'd been reluctant enough to talk about his situation when it was just about the talk with D'Nollah, which he'd let himself in for by not just avoiding the dog like his parents wanted. He'd already been grappling with smoldering rage from that, coupled with a sense of guilt all gnawing at him like so many parasites in his gut. Now from talking with Ralph he had doubt, confusion, and even something like cold dread, all twisted and tangled together like a Gordian Knot of live snakes. He wasn't even sure where to start untangling it all, and part of him was afraid if he even tried it would only add more to the mess.

The bell rang, hitting him with a mix of fresh frustration and strange relief. "Shoot, gotta get to class," he groaned, drawing away.

Dusty tightened her hold on his paw. "Kodi, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

He forced a smile and nodded. "I know. And I will. I just need to get my head on straight, that's all."

She gave his paw a tug, compelling him to make eye contact. "I want to help," she insisted.

His stomach knotted, again. How could he feel so good talking to her when everything else was such a mess? "Maybe tonight," he said quietly.

"Sheesh, get a room already," someone called out in passing.

Kodi spun to misplace his angst on whomever had said that, but Dusty held him in check.

"We'd better get to class," she reminded him. "See you tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah, we'll pick you up. I'll save you a window seat."

She smiled at the promise, little though it was. At least there was something in there of the boyfriend she knew.

Nearly all of Kodi's classmates would have stared in disbelief at the idea of going to church any time other than Sunday morning; even the ones who didn't scoff at the thought of going at all. In Kodi's family, however, it was to be expected – and Pastor Akela, the speaker that night, could command the attention of nearly any crowd you set before him. He wouldn't pull punches. He refused to shy away from controversy. To top it off, his slightly coarse voice, southern accent, and the live-wire passion he put into his deliveries made his messages the verbal equivalent of an extra-large coffee with five shots of espresso.

Tonight was no exception.

"The world today lives on identity and affiliation. Everywhere you look there's a herd mentality; a pack mentality. Everything is about labels, and the group to which you belong. People are very tied down to the idea that your group – your caste, if you will – defines who you are. If you are a Republican, people will say, you cannot be for a cleaner environment. If you're a Democrat, supposedly you can't say abortion is wrong. You might say it's 'just not done.'" He made quotation gestures with his wing feathers, lest there be any confusion. "And not only does your party or your crowd or your birth define who you are, in this mindset, but it defines what you are worth as a person to them. If you vote a certain way, you're a deplorable or a baby killer. If you are friends with such-and-such you're a glutton and a drunkard. Anyone recognize that one? I won't name anybody, but one of the finest men that I have ever known spent most of his life being told – and sometimes even believing – that he was a mistake and an abomination because he happens to be a mixed breed."

Kodi glanced at his parents and saw them squeeze paws. He wondered if that was a specific reference to his father or just coincidental, and whether Balto had known it would be mentioned. Either way, he was grateful for the anonymity.

The pastor went on, fired up like a steakhouse kitchen at lunchtime during a motorcycle convention. "My brother has been told to his face, many times, that because of one extra chromosome he was not worthy to be born. Let me tell you, I decked a few kids for saying that as I was growing up."

Some laughs and applause popped up, and the bird scowled just a little.

"Well, I don't say this very often, but that was a little too enthusiastic for my liking. You notice I didn't say it was a Christian thing to do. I wasn't a Christian back then. But I tell you what: ain't nobody alive today who is more worthy of life than my brother. And my little girl – stand up, sweetie, will you?"

He paused a moment as a little green viper slithered onto the edge of the stage and rose up where everyone could see her.

"This little angel all of you see in front of you was told several times at the adoption hearing that she was 'unwanted' and 'unloved.'" He paused to let that sink in, then reiterated. "Several time. 'Unwanted,' and 'unloved.' Tell me, now, does she look unwanted or unloved? Is there anyone here who could not love a child like that? I tell you what; that was the only time in my adult life that I wanted to stop being a Christian just for five minutes. You hear what I'm saying?"

Dusty looked over at Kodi. He seemed to be on the verge of shaking, so moved was he by the message and especially in light of the cloud that had hung over him already.

The pastor bade his daughter sit down, then continued. "Now, there are people out there who will say that Angelique does not belong in our family because she's a snake. They say we shouldn't adopt outside our kind. Let me tell you something; we are all adopted outside our kind. What's more, we are all flawed in some way. All of us have a hereditary condition called sin. Every one of us is a mixed bag. And lastly, we have all been redeemed; taken from a place of bondage and isolation, and brought into a place of freedom and belonging. This didn't have a thing to do with what we are or who we were before. It had nothing to do with what sort of 'quality' we were. It has everything to do with the Father in Heaven looking down and saying, 'I want you. I love you. Even if you are ugly as sin, I can make something beautiful out of you.'" To drive the point home, as he paraphrased the words of G-d he looked down towards his daughter's seat, moving his wings to signal the specificity of the words. Then he turned back to the congregation as a whole. "Listen to me, now; I don't care if you look like the inside of a toad. I don't care if you've lived your life being as nasty as Aesop's scorpion and as gullible as his frog. You are wanted and invited and cherished. If you look in First Corinthians 6, in verses 9 to 11, you'll see it says, 'you were washed. You were sanctified. You were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by the Spirit of our God.' And look who that's to. It's talking to swindlers, idolaters, murderers, thieves, and yes, even males who sleep with other males. Now you tell me who is exempt from the mercy of the Lord. Tell me who."

He waved to indicate the whole congregation. "People think we all convince ourselves we're some kind of special people; that we're better than everyone. They think we're like the Pharisee who prayed all about how great he was; a big, loud humble-brag right there in the temple, shouting it up to the Lord Himself. You show me somebody who lives and thinks like that, though, and I'll show you someone who doesn't know what being a Christian means! If the Lord waited for us to be worthy, we would never make it. Nobody would ever make it. The Bible says that even the desire to follow Him is a gift, for which we deserve no credit. And we are called to extend that grace to others, if for no other reason than the fact that our sins against Him are so much worse – unimaginably worse – than any sin by anyone against any of us. People may nail us to the wall, but it was our sins that nailed Him to the cross."

Dusty felt a tightness in Kodi's paw and looked over at him. He had managed to get a better handle on his expression and posture, but a girl could tell when her guy was upset, even if he didn't realize it himself.

Why was he so shaky? He'd always been so passionate about this; it was that, as much as anything, that had drawn her to become a Christian; his decisive conviction that it really was for anyone.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, but he said nothing and looked ready to upchuck everything.

After the service, Kodi did his best to put on a normal façade. He even managed to smile and shrug when people commended him and Dusty for the 'daring rescue' of which word had apparently gotten around faster than a flu outbreak. Between his own façade and the fact that some turned their attention to his parents – who seemed, it was said, strangely quiet about having a hero for a son – he genuinely thought he'd managed to avoid any scrutiny over what sat seething in his gut.

That illusion lasted up until a short while after they got home, when Balto called him out to the back porch. Taking his father's cue, he sat on the porch swing and the two of them swayed for a deafeningly silent moment before Balto spoke.

"You want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked.

Kodi swallowed. "You figured it out?"

Balto shrugged. "I know I need a computer tutorial every other Thursday, but I'm not clueless," he joked. Then, seeing the effort at comedy was out of place, he added, "And even if I couldn't tell, Dusty said you had something to tell me or your mother."

"Of course she did." Kodi should have guessed Dusty would go to his parents. In a way, he kind of resented himself for not doing it. Even so, what was he supposed to say?

In the pause, Balto's face took on a concerned look. "Look, son, whatever you may have done-"

"I went to see D'Nollah at the hospital," he blurted out.

Balto stared at him for a moment. Then his ears fell back. "I should have guessed you were going to do that," he said quietly.

Kodi looked away. "I know I shouldn't have, but I had to… I mean, I thought I had to know why you guys wouldn't talk about him."

For a long moment, Balto held his silence. Then he laid a paw on his son's shoulder. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't get a train of thought out of the station. Half of them weren't even coherent enough to single out one from another.

Then Kodi said something that knocked every last car off its track. "Was I an accident?"

"What?" For a moment that was literally all Balto could think. Then he shook his head. "Did D'Nollah tell you that you were-?"

"No; not him," Kodi interrupted. He checked himself, unwilling to tell his father on top of everything else that the first to hear all this had been some totally random classmate. "It was just something I heard about at school, and then the whole thing tonight about Pastor's kid, and…"

Balto pulled Kodi into a hug; slightly awkward, given they were sitting side-by-side, but he didn't care. "Son, whatever you heard and whatever you're thinking, stop. You were not an accident, and even if you were it wouldn't matter. You're my son, and anyone who thinks that the timing or how much I was making is more important… well, they're wrong."

Kodi took a deep breath, almost choking on a sob as he came close to breaking down; close, but not quite there.

It would be excessive to detail the rest of their talk, apart from the fact that they did decide Balto should have the task of filling Jenna in on what Kodi had found out. As for Kodi, the knot inside him wasn't entirely gone. He still had questions; more than he knew how to ask. Anger, bitterness, and even some inexplicable shame and sense of guilt still plagued the young dog. None the less he had been hit with a kind of fatigue; the soul's equivalent, as it were, of the crash that comes when one lets oneself stop after a hard run. Much like that physical crash, the much deeper release of simply getting those doubts and questions out in the open begat a kind of forgetfulness. For now, it was enough to have his doubts resolved, and the fear of confession snuffed out. He was wanted. He was accepted. Two snakes pulled out of the knot was enough, at least, that he could sleep on the rest.

As he went upstairs to take a shower later on, he pulled out his phone and found a message from Dusty. 'You okay?'

He considered just how to answer it, then sent off his answer. He capped it off with six words he was sure few teenagers ever said – but which, as he would often think later, the world would be better if more of them did.

'Thanks for talking to my dad.'

A few moments later she texted back. 'About time you answered. And you're welcome. Tell me about it when you're ready?'

He considered, glanced in his wallet, then sent a reply. 'Tomorrow after school. Drinks on me.'

She deserved more than his current income would allow. But at least he could afford her some peace of mind.

I think this one's going to total three chapters in the end; maybe four, depending. I definitely had more to cover, and those who know me fairly well may have a guess at where it's going from here. Suffice to say that, though I was never in danger of being aborted or in doubt about being planned on, a lot of the emotions and struggles I laid out here were pretty autobiographical from other parts of my life.

And in case anyone's wondering, anything presented about Ralph here is purely arbitrary. I actually had planned originally on Dusty bringing up the "unplanned" aspect, due perhaps to the first KoDusty fic I read having her come from a very un-ideal background. Then I thought about Kirby bringing it up, but I finally settled on Ralph because of the three, he seemed most like he'd be dumb enough to say it.

On the subject of the KoDusty fic, by the way: if anyone out there is in touch with redwolf03, please tell her I said hi and that I miss her stories. If it wasn't for her, I don't think half my fan fiction would ever have seen the light of day.