Extraction

Author’s note: This takes place about 10-20 years before the start of Covalence.

The waters of the Halcyon River sliced a dark path through the festering corpse of the city’s old industrial district. Once a bustling port of trade, its wharves sat silent and empty, their abandoned cranes reaching toward the sky like great rusting bones. The bright greenery of the riverbank park stood in stark contrast to the reds and grays of weathered brick and stone.

Its lone visitor looked out of place just by being there at all: a tall black fox strolled along the riverside trail, her voluminous mane the lush color of fresh-spilled blood. The zoroark wore only a low profile harness, its black fabric webbing blending into her fur. It had pouches and pockets fastened to it all over, with space for many more. The quality was a step beyond typical civilian wear, suggesting she was some sort of explorer or other active professional.

She brushed an unruly red lock of hair out of her eyes and looked around at the buildings above the riverbank. Now dilapidated and covered in thorny vines, they stood silent and empty, windows dark and dusty where they weren’t overgrown or boarded up. The heart-shaped leaves of the vines rustled in the gentle breeze, their brilliant pink flowers giving the ensemble a macabre beauty. Life feeding on death, as it always did.

Mira’s hair slipped free again, the lock draping against her muzzle; she let it stay there, shading her eye from the sun. The zoroark hated this part of Halcyon Falls the least. None of Upper Halcyon’s gleam and polish here; the veneer was gone, revealing the city as it truly was. The stench of dying dreams only got worse when you tried to cover them up.

She harbored more fondness for some of the people who lived here, like the grotle sunning himself on a large flat rock nearby. His greenish-brown shell was covered in green and gray lichen, the bushes strong and healthy. The hefty turtle was standing so still he looked a part of the park, like a decorative statue or topiary, so much so she might have overlooked him if she didn’t know he was there to meet her.

“Malachi.”

“Mira,” the grotle replied, his voice like the grinding of gravel. He did not move.

Some would call them pseudonyms, fake names, but Mira knew better. These were true names, more real than whatever they’d been given back when they shook off the shell-shards of their hatching. “Enjoying the sun?”

“While I can.” Malachi let out a long sigh, like the earth itself was breathing out.

The zoroark stepped off the path and took a seat on the edge of the rock by the grotle’s head. She looked out across the river, watching the water ripple and shimmer. After a bit, she produced a sketchbook and pen from her pockets and began to draw the other shore. Mira knew better than to rush the ancient grotle. There was no point.

A sketch and a half later, Malachi finally got to business. “I’ve got a stack of offers for twice, even three times your going rate,” he said.

“The usual people? Not interested.” Mira kept her focus on her sketch, trying to capture the energy of a willow that leaned over the river. “Surely that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about.”

“I told them as much, and no,” the grotle rumbled. “But I am, as always, a faithful messenger.” He went quiet for another long pause, only the burble of the river, the scratch of the pen, and the rustle of the breeze breaking the silence. “If I may overstep,” Malachi said at last, “I am curious as to your motivations. I have known several people who were, shall we say, ‘principled’. Some sought atonement, penance. Others to make reparations.”

Mira shrugged. “You know who I used to be.”

Malachi turned his head a little, just enough to eye the furless scar on the zoroark’s belly, just below her ribs. “Only in reputation.”

The zoroark held up a paw and examined her sanguine claws, first the fronts, then the backs. “Then, no. I don’t believe in any of that crap. I’m not out to balance any cosmic scales. Just do what makes sense in the moment.” She returned to her sketch. “I’ve already spent enough time as a tool of the rich and powerful. I don’t need to do any more of that.”

“I see.” The grotle pondered this. “And yet, to borrow your phrasing, you’re still but a tool, only now for the poor and destitute instead.”

“Am I?” The vixen grinned open-mouthed, showing her pointy fangs. “I have more choice now than I ever did before. Is a tool that chooses its wielder really just a tool?”

“Perhaps there’s something to that,” Malachi allowed. “But if choice is your metric, you had the chance to be someone else, someone with so much more.”

“Ah. So that’s what this is really about,” the zoroark said. She closed her sketchbook and held it on her lap, looking off into the cloudless blue sky.

“It is, if you’ll indulge an old mon’s curiosity. Your old family; you lopped off its head and let it die instead of taking its place.” The grotle let a slow breath out, then inhaled just as slowly. “I have wondered why ever since I heard the news.”

“I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit. I ripped out its spine, too.” A wan smile flit across Mira’s long black muzzle, twitching the red corners of her mouth. “I’ll tell you. Won’t be free, though.”

“Of course, I understand. A favor for your trouble.”

“Deal.” The zoroark fell silent while she composed her thoughts. She idly pulled her mane onto her lap, stroking her claws over the lustrous turquoise bead near the end, where her hair faded to black and back to red. A thin crack marred the bead’s core; Mira traced its path with one claw. “That kind of power changes people,” she said, at last. “I saw it happen; I’ve seen the end of that road. For Myrk it ended on the ground at my feet, his knife in my back and his lifeblood spreading across the floor.”

She brushed her mane aside and held one paw to the scar on her front, spreading the fur away to expose its pale pink flesh. Her mane settled against its twin, on her back. “Myrk didn’t raise me planning to kill me. That happened later. Look, I’ve no delusions about him, no nostalgia. He was a cruel illusionist, a ruthless teacher, and a horrible stand-in for a father. But there was a flicker of… something. Sentimentality, maybe, or the closest we could get to it in a place like that. He saw me as a person.

“Or, he did. That changed when the boss died and Myrk stepped up. After that, I stopped being his protégé and became a tool. And when I was too good at that, I stopped being a tool and became a threat.” Mira pressed her lips together in a thin, grim line. “When you stop seeing people as people, you can’t understand them anymore. Can’t manipulate them. For a zoroark in our line of work, that’s fatal. As he learned.”

Malachi, listening quietly, waited for her to continue. He only spoke after a long silence. “You believed you would suffer the same fate?”

Mira nodded. “Yes. I’d already met many powerful people, even then, and found them uncanny. Unsettling. When I saw it happen to Myrk, I understood; part of him died when he became kingpin. The only part worth anything.” She grimaced, digging a fang into her own lip. “I only killed what was left.”

“I see.” The grotle slowly turned his head back to the river. The breeze washed over the two of them, much as the river washed over the stones by the shore. “That is only part of the puzzle,” he said. “What about your ‘exit’? Surely collapsing the organization made you more enemies than if you’d simply left.”

“It certainly did,” the zoroark said, her grin bordering on rueful. “I don’t have any fanciful reasoning there. Perhaps I was spiteful from nearly dying. Perhaps I wanted to break the cycle. Probably some of both.” She shook her head. “An idealistic, youthful fantasy, I know; nature abhors a vacuum.” Mira eyed the grotle. She hadn’t kept up with news about where she used to live, but his silence was information enough: something new had sprung up to fill the void she left behind. Life begot death begot life again.

“Mm. Much to think about.” Malachi hummed thoughtfully to himself. His voice took on a humorously plaintive tone. “And what of me? Will my road end the same way?”

Mira laughed. “You don’t have any power, Malachi. Your castle is but a house of cards, built on the ficklest foundation of all: trust. As soon as you abuse it, it’ll vanish.”

“Too true, too true,” he agreed, ponderously nodding his head. “Someday, a time may come where there is something worth abusing it for.”

“I shudder to imagine what could be worth such a steep price.” Mira drummed her claws across her sketchbook. “Why the sudden interest in me? If you just wanted to chat, we could have at least had tea.”

“Good sunlight and clear skies are even better than tea,” the grotle said, leafy bushes rustling in the breeze. “In truth, I have a feeling we won’t see each other again for a long time. Not after you take this job.”

“So there is a job? What makes you so sure I’ll take it?”

“He could not pay a fraction of your deposit, let alone your fee. And he has attracted the ire of our beloved mayor.”

“Oh?” The zoroark sat up straighter. The mayor of Halcyon Falls was a golden serperior named Luciana, corrupt to the core. “I’m listening. Any enemy of hers is a friend of mine. Or at least someone I’d buy a drink.”

“He has come into possession of some files very dear to her—”

Mira snorted with laughter. “Oh! That. They’re—I mean, he’s still alive?”

“For now, yes. In the Meridian. Mayor Luciana still pays lip service to the old ways, because she is confident no one dares risk her enmity.”

“Done. I dare. I’ll do it.” She blinked. “What does he want, again?”

Malachi rumbled in quiet amusement. “I hadn’t said yet, nor how to find him. He is a delcatty named Loren, Loren Slater, and he wants out. Not particular about where, as long as it is out of her reach. Ask the front desk for his room.”

“Easy. I’ll handle it.” The zoroark took a deep breath of riverside air and sighed. “You’re right, though. After that, it’ll be hard to show my face around here, at least as long as she’s around. I suppose this’ll be goodbye for a while.”

“Likely so, yes. A pity you have only one face.”

“Eh, c’mon. You know that’s not my style.” Mira reached over and slapped the grotle on the shell. “You’re a scoundrel, too. Paying me for that story with a favor I won’t get to spend.”

“It is a rare day that one gets to outfox a fox,” the turtle said, sounding quite pleased with himself. “It won’t settle everything I owe, but I can still offer one. You were right earlier, that trust is fickle and fragile. But even so, I can push it. Stretch it.” He cleared his throat. “I must inform Luciana if anyone takes Loren’s request. But you haven’t really taken it until you’ve left, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Mira said, sharing a glance with the grotle. “I’m still mulling it over.”

“I thought so. It’s a serious matter, worth considering.”

“Mhm.” The zoroark flipped her sketchbook open again, scratching away with her pen. She paused only to pat the grotle’s shell, stroking the hardened soil with her claws, then returned to sketching. After a quarter hour or so, she closed the book and sat there in silence with him, watching the river go by.

Eventually Malachi saw a flicker in the corner of his eyes. The zoroark was gone. She hadn’t gotten up and left, she had simply vanished. In her place was a page torn from her sketchbook, weighed down by a stone and rustling in the breeze. He leaned closer to inspect them: the page had a sketch of him, in profile; the stone was tied with a few long strands of blood-red hair.

As his vines fished a connection orb out of his bags, he smiled.

---

Despite appearances, the dark underworld of Halcyon Falls was still very much alive, clinging to the city’s belly like tenacious climbing ivy. If it had a heart, the once-decadent Meridian Hotel was it. An imposing sandstone edifice, it stood several floors over the shorter buildings around it, located between the low warehouses of the docks and the towering modern skyscrapers downtown, closer to the falls. Straddling the boundary betwixt the business and industrial districts, it bridged the divide between them, between seen and unseen, above and below board, the captains of industry and those who did their dirty work.

The once-bustling foot traffic around it was anemic now, though that suited its clientele just fine. Even from outside, it was obvious the Meridian had seen happier days; its lower windows were retrofitted with security bars, their elegant draperies dusty and sun-faded. From the inside, it was even clearer.

In room 405, a delcatty awaited his fate, pacing from wall (stained) to wall (peeling). Like his room, he felt a shell of his former self, with heavy circles under his reddened eyes. His sleek purple and cream fur was the only thing still neat and well-kept about him, and it was far below his usual standards. I should have made a break for it when I had the chance, Loren thought. Holing up here was stupid. Now I’m stuck.

The Meridian was a no mon’s land, a neutral ground of sorts. If he stepped one paw out of the building, he was finished. He’d seen the mayor’s goons. If he were lucky, it’d be quick. And for what? An exposé I never even got to write? A bunch of files and no proof they’re even real? It was an open secret that the corruption in Halcyon Falls went all the way to the top. It’s not like it was going to change anything.

Loren sighed. He’d already thought himself in circles about this, but this time he had renewed, anxious hope: the front desk had called his room a couple minutes ago to tell him some “Mira” had accepted his offer. He was still surprised. His attempts to hire someone to extract him had all struck out: nobody wanted to get on Luciana’s bad side. At least, nobody he could afford, even with every scrap of savings he had left. Even so, that grotle had said there was a chance this “Mira” would help him anyway, though he had no idea why, given her astronomical rates.

So now he waited, pacing, ears twitching at every distant sound. There was one now, a muffled clunk of a closing door. The delcatty walked across the room, then back. A soft knock at the door made him jump, landing with hackles raised.

“Room service,” said a voice behind the door. Deep, smooth, with a note of amusement. “Seven pecha berries.”

Thank the Three, Loren thought. That was the passphrase he’d given the front desk. He struggled to steady his breathing and calm himself as he approached the door. Malachi hadn’t told him much about her, just that she was a zoroark and the best at what she did. She better be, for the mountain of debt this is going to take. My kits’ll be paying this off, if I ever get to have any. The delcatty grimaced.

Back at school, years and years ago, his self-defense class had had a guest lecture about zoroark and illusions. It would have been really useful to recall, so of course he didn’t remember a single thing from it except that he’d been there. If I’d forgotten that too, at least I wouldn’t feel stupid, he grumbled to himself. In the end, all he knew about zoroark was that they could disguise themselves; she could look like anything. He undid the locks with a click and a clunk and stepped on the footpaw pedal, pulling the heavy wood door open.

Ready for anything, Loren was shocked to look up and see, behind the door, a zoroark. Somehow that was what he least expected to see. He had to crane his neck to meet her blue-green eyes, barely visible under the unruly red locks of her black-tipped mane. Her body was hunched over and lanky, her limbs long and gangly, but even with her stooped posture she still had nearly two feet of height on him. It gave the unsettling impression that she was folded up, that any any moment she could stand tall enough her head brushed the ceiling.

“Why so surprised?” She pushed her way into the room. Well, just stepped. The delcatty scrambled out of her way.

Loren realized his mouth was hanging open. He shut it. “Uh. I thought you’d be disguised.”

“So anyone could show up and claim to be me? No. I’m Mira, the one and only.” She made a sweeping gesture to herself, over the utility harness she wore, with plenty of pockets around the waist and along the chest straps. “Didn’t the old codger mention that?”

Oh. Uh. Had he? Loren couldn’t remember. “Maybe?”

“And it lulls people into a false sense of security. You think I’m in front of you right now?” The zoroark gestured behind him.

“Wha—” The twitchy delcatty spun around, eyes darting wildly. The room looked the same it had the last fifty times he’d stared at it, with the wallpaper’s familiar peels and cracks, the chairs with cushions long gone flat. The stain on the wall that looked like a yawning hippopotas. There was nothing else; it was empty.

A set of claws grabbed Loren between the ears. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “Made you look,” Mira said. She rubbed side to side, ruffling his neat purple fur and making it stick out in all directions.

The delcatty spent several seconds speechless, hyperventilating, and frozen. “What—” He nearly choked. “What is wrong with you?” Loren squirmed out of her grip, taking a step away and whirling back to glare at the crouching zoroark, her paw still outstretched, red claws wiggling teasingly in the air. “You scared me half to death,” he accused, “and messed up my fur, and didn’t even use an illusion—”

“Didn’t need to. You looked anyway,” the zoroark said, a smug grin stretched across her entire muzzle. “Consider that a free lesson on misdirection.” She snickered. “Don’t worry about the fur. Nobody’ll see it.”

Loren didn’t know what to say. His breathing was still quick, still loud in his own ears.

“Anyway, there’s no time to waste. You are Loren, yes?”

You’re the only one wasting time! Loren thought, but what he said was “Yes, Loren Slater. I’m all packed, I’m ready to go.”

“Good. Listen up and I’ll explain how this is going to work.”

Hurry up and wait… The delcatty bit his tongue and sat on his haunches, tufted ears perked to listen attentively. He felt his headfur sitting all wrong, but now wasn’t the time to fix it.

“The plan’s simple, Mr. Slater. I’m going to eat you and then leave.”

Loren blinked repeatedly, as though that’d help clear his ears. “Sorry, you’ll what?”

“Eat you. When we get to the capital, I’ll hork you up.” Mira waved a dismissive paw. “Don’t worry, you won’t even notice.”

The delcatty imagined what that would do to his fur. It’d be all sticky or slimy or both and he’d smell like zoroark chow and—“Look, I’m not into that stuff,” he said. “Surely there’s some other way. Can’t you just make me invisible?”

The zoroark frowned. “Remind me: which one of us is the professional illusionist here?”

Loren gulped. The sound was loud in his ears. “Y-You are, but—”

“Right. Me. It takes practice to not give away a disguise, and you have neither practice nor the time to get any.”

Loren felt his heart pounding in his chest, louder than it’d ever been before. Was he really going to go through with this? Surely not. “This, this isn’t because I can’t pay you up front, is it?”

Mira chuckled and waved her paw at him again; the delcatty leaned away from the claws. “No, no; this is pro bono. I love me a charity case. I got stabbed once and my heart’s been bleeding ever since.”

“Wh—” Seriously? She doesn’t want anything? He was immediately suspicious. “But what’s your price for, then? Just to scare people?”

“Partly.” Mira shrugged. “But it’s also what I’m worth. Can’t do all my work for free.”

The delcatty narrowed his eyes, the effect spoiled by his tousled headfur. “It seems too good to be true, is all.”

The zoroark sighed. “Did Malachi say you could trust me?”

He thought back to his conversation with the grotle. Malachi had not said much about Mira, no, but he had said that. He had been very firm about it. “Y-Yes.”

“Then don’t take my word for it, take his, and trust me. Trust that I’m on your side, and trust me when I say my way’s safer. Half as many backs for me to watch.”

“But he can’t possibly have meant for me to let you eat me! That’s absurd!”

The zoroark rolled her eyes. “Mr. Slater, as of a few minutes ago—when you got that call from the front desk—I became your only ally in this entire building. As soon as I took the job, this place was no longer safe for you, not that it ever was, really. I suggest you get over yourself and do it quickly.”

“What? But—” Loren’s whiskers twitched, the hairs on his neck standing up. “But the Meridian is a neutral zone, isn’t it?”

“No. Rules only bind those who care about the consequences for breaking them, but Luciana is the state. The Meridian has to deal with her whether it wants to or not.” Mira shook her head. “She was happy to pretend to respect them as long as she thought nobody would help you. But here I am.”

She cupped a paw to one ear, looking thoughtfully off into space. “Ah, and there they are. Took them long enough. That’s the other problem with ‘rules’: you offer people enough money and they’ll do anything.”

Loren listened. In the distance, he heard the faint tromping of paws. “There who are?” he asked, feeling his voice getting squeaky with fear.

“Her goons. Ten of them are running up the stairs as we speak.”

“Ten!?” Loren repeated, fear now strangling him down to a whisper.

“Well, about. Maybe more. I didn’t have time to count.”

“What are we—let’s go!”

“Patience.”

Malachi said she was the best but there’s no way! I’m so fucked. The delcatty found his voice again, in anger. “You want to wait and fight them? Ten!? How are you supposed to help against that many?”

“Calm—”

“Calm!? How am I supposed to be calm? Nobody’s that good! Maybe if you were a big dragon or—oh, by the Three, you’re going to hand me over to them! You just wanted all that money for yorsmlphf—” He couldn’t open his mouth. The zoroark had made a zipping motion with two pinched claws and now he couldn’t open his mouth.

She was glaring at him, mouth open to show her teeth. Her stare was so intense it made the entire room darker; it would have shut him up even if he could still speak. “I wouldn’t do that. Not ever.” The zoroark sighed, expression softening, “Have some faith.” She pointed her paw at the ceiling. “Listen.”

Loren pawed at his mouth until he found—a zipper pull?? He fumbled for a grip on it and yanked it back around, taking deep breaths of air that his nose simply hadn’t been able to provide. How the fuck was that an illusion? he thought, so shocked his rant was completely derailed. He obeyed the zoroark and listened.

A crowd of footsteps thundered in the hallway overhead. Loren heard shouting, the words too muffled to distinguish. Something heavy hit something solid, hard enough it rattled their room a floor below.

“What—what are they doing?” The slams kept coming.

“Breaking into your room,” Mira said.

“But that’s the wrong floor.”

“Oh? Not according to all the signage.” She grinned. “Funny, isn’t it?”

Loren’s head was spinning. Are they really that stupid? Surely you just count the levels. This is the fourth floor, but the lobby is taller, so it’s four, maybe five stories… Oh, and the mezzanine… Hm. Maybe she actually was good.

“Now you’re getting it,” Mira said. “If we have to fight them, I’ve already failed.”

There was a tremendous crash from above, then more footsteps and shouting, now clear enough Loren could make out the words: “What do you mean it’s EMPTY? That’s what she wants us to think!” “The door had that swingy-lock on! You can only do that from the inside, so they have to be in here!”

“Oops,” Mira said, eyes twinkling. “What a careless mistake for us to make, using the swing-bar lock.”

…how DID she manage that? Loren wondered. Good thing that room was empty. Then again, most of them seem to be…

“Now. We don’t have long before they figure it out, so it’s time to go while they’re still out of our way.” She walked over to Loren’s panniers. “This all your stuff?”

“Yeah. Uh, I was going to carry it,” he said. Maybe she’d gotten distracted and forgotten about the eating thing; he certainly wasn’t going to remind her.

Mira shook her head. “Nah. It’s faster if I do it.” She passed them behind her hips and lifted them onto her back, under her mane. They clipped right onto her harness. “Besides.” The zoroark opened her mouth and pointed inside.

Loren turned away from the sight of pointy fox teeth and mottled mawflesh, pink splotched with black. “You’re seriously still on about that?” he asked, holding up a paw to block the view. “I already said no.”

“I think you misunderstand,” the zoroark said, stepping closer. “You hired me to get you out, and I’m here to do the job. You don’t get a choice.”

The delcatty backed up. Mira unfolded herself, looming over him, reaching for him with wiry arms ending in long red claws. He couldn’t help but stare at her stomach, eyes latching onto the pink scar just under her ribs—

Distantly, a heavy door shut with a familiar clunk. A stairway fire door. The zoroark froze, ears perked and swiveling. She crept to the door to the room in a few long strides, as silent as death. Pressing her eye to the peephole, she raised her shimmering claws and wiggled them left, then right. She frowned, as though displeased by what she saw.

“What is it?” Loren whispered, as quietly as he could. “What do we do?”

Mira held one claw to her muzzle to hush him. “All right, c’mon,” she said, at a normal volume. “Before they figure it out.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Loren hissed. He saw her ignore him and reach for the handle. He dove under the desk and peeked out through the gap made by the baseboard.

She opened the door. Across the hall, a weaselly pokémon with drab indigo fur and bright red feathers was pressed to the wall, his claws at the ready. The weavile started at the opening door, glancing from Mira to the room he was prepared to ambush, labeled 305. Mira stared back, seemingly caught by surprise. Didn’t she knew he was there? Wait, that’s the wrong floor and the wrong number—

The weavile reacted with characteristic speed, lunging for Mira with an icy knife he pulled from thin air. The zoroark stumbled back into the room, backpedaling down the entranceway while keeping his knife away from her vitals. She kneed at his gut and jerked back to avoid his swipe; he lunged under her guard…

Loren couldn’t keep up with the fight after that, not while watching with one eye from under a desk with a zoroark’s mane swishing in the way. It was over as quick as it’d started; it felt like he blinked and Mira was on her knees towards him, an ice-knife held to her throat.

“That floor number trick was clever, but not clever enough,” the weavile said. “I should thank you, really, for luring everyone else away. Now I’ll get all the glory.”

Loren didn’t want to watch anymore, but he wanted to move even less. There was a still a chance the weavile somehow didn’t find him if he held perfectly still, so he did, not even blinking. From his hiding spot, he saw the zoroark roll her eyes. Behind the weavile, a ripple slid from the dark bathroom doorway to the empty entrance hall.

“No problem,” Mira said. Darkness erupted behind the weavile’s head, engulfing it with with a soft wumph that felt far too understated for the force of the blast. He went slack, flung forward and collapsing onto—no, through—the kneeling zoroark, whose form wavered and winked out like a soap bubble. The weavile hit the floor hard, head thunking with enough force to make Loren wince.

Behind him, the shimmer in the air resolved itself into the zoroark, standing with one paw outstretched right behind where the weavile had been. Stray wisps of darkness drifted off her claws. “Idiot. Imagine bragging you came alone.” She looked directly at Loren’s hiding spot and motioned for him to come. “C’mon. No time to dawdle anymore.”

Loren shuffled out from under the desk and hesitantly approached the collapsed weavile. His head was still attached, but the catlike creature was limp and unmoving, drool pooling by his open mouth. “Are they—” He gulped. “Are they dead?”

“Nah, I doubt it. He’ll probably wish he were when his buddies find him, though.” Mira was already waiting by the door, peering through the peephole. She motioned at the delcatty again, impatient. “Do or die, Loren, let’s go.”

This is it. It’s happening. This crazy zoroark is my one and only ticket out of here. He hopped over the weavile and gathered every scrap of courage he had left. What’d she say? Do or die? When you put it like that…

“Stay close and keep up.”

Loren did his best. The zoroark took off toward the far stairs as soon as he was in the hall with her, running on all fours. Even sprinting all out, digging his claws into the carpet the way he always tried to avoid, she was easily pulling away from him; those long limbs did work. At least she’s given up on trying to eat me. Was it smart to refuse? It must have been, right…?

Mira slowed just before slamming her shoulder into the push bar, flinging the door open just soft enough it didn’t smash into the stairway wall. Loren followed hot on her heels, grimacing at the gritty feel of the dull gray floor. At their best and newest, the stairs had probably been tolerably ascetic; now they were just grungy, with dust and grime built up in the corners and clinging to the occasional exposed pipe and girder. At some point, the pipes and girders had been painted white in an attempt to make them blend in, but it had aged differently than that of the walls, making them stand out more. Taking the grimy stairs always made Loren want to take a bath, but there was no time to worry about that now. On the bright side, I’ll never see them again. Either way, I guess…

Ahead of him, the zoroark had gone back to two legs to take the stairs rapid-fire. Loren struggled to keep up without tumbling head over heels. He skidded on the landings, too, scrabbling to turn where Mira used the railing as a pivot. The sounds of their paws and claws echoed through the stairwell; if anyone else were in the stairs, they’d definitely know they were coming.

And someone was, of course. They rounded the landing above the true 200 level to see a big and squat blue-scaled creature, her back, ears and tail all covered in spikes. A nidoqueen was at the bottom of the next flight, bewildered by the door that had reappeared only moments ago.

She looked back up the stairs as Loren and Mira noisily came around the landing; any uncertainty Loren had about her allegiances vanished when she saw them, her eyes narrowing after a brief moment of surprise. She raised her arms to intercept, planting her feet to take up the whole stairway with her scaly blue bulk.

Mira made some gesture with her claws before Loren even parsed the nidoqueen’s growl. He saw them split in two, another delcatty and zoroark running alongside them, right for the nidoqueen. He didn’t know what the plan was and he had no time to think about it. The other Loren leapt with one of Mira, sailing through the air above the kaiju. Her claws reached toward them—What do I—

Loren was scooped up from under his belly, black fur and red claws burying themselves in the front of his purple neck ruff. Mira leapt the railing, snagging the stairs overhead with her other paw, and everything but her blurred as they swung around, avoiding the landing completely. She dropped to the stairs and stumbled, shoulder hitting the opposite wall, bumping the delcatty’s side into it too. Loren grunted.

Then the zoroark was back on course and he was flailing in the air, dropped. The delcatty had no idea how he landed on his paws after that, but he thanked the Three he did, scampering after Mira as she ran down the stairs. Behind them, the lumbering steps of the nidoqueen gave way to a loud stairway-shaking rumble, moving much faster than Loren expected. He risked a glance—You have to be fucking kitting me. She was sliding down the stairs on her rump and tail, using the steps as a rough ramp. Wish I had scales that thick. They were outpacing her, but only barely. If we get stopped she’ll crush us from behind. Probably literally.

He caught a glimpse of the zoroark clutching some darkness in her right paw as they rounded another landing. There was no door on the level above the mezzanine, but the flight after it pointed towards a tall outside window, aglow with afternoon sunlight. Mira flung a vertical wave of darkness at it, blowing the glass out with a shattering crash. “Window,” she barked, leaping for it without even glancing at the delcatty.

If Loren had any time to think, he might have hesitated. But he didn’t, not even at the sight of the two-and-a-half story drop. The delcatty pounced down on the landing, crouching to prepare to jump after her. He never got the chance. Invisible claws grabbed at him, yanking him to the side and muffling his mewl of surprise. Oh, of course! He was figuring this stuff out now. In the moment, he’d forgotten these stairways didn’t have windows.

The nidoqueen behind them smashed through the supposedly broken window with a shower of glass and a bone-rattling metallic thunk. She stayed in the frame, groaning, scales too thick for the glass to cut. Oh, wait. They do. They just have bars on the outside, that’s right.

Before he had time to fully appreciate it, they were running again, nearly to the bottom. The mezzanine landing was next; Loren’s heart sank as he saw a spidops in the way. They’d already stretched strands of undoubtedly sticky silk across the stairs.

He ran into Mira’s legs facefirst as she skidded to a stop, her panting loud in the enclosed stairs. She only paused for a second or two before taking a deep breath. The zoroark swiped her claws out to the side, blasting a jet of flame from her jaws.

The webs shriveled in the flame, but the spidops ducked out the way. As soon as Mira shut her mouth, they flung another strand of silk across the door and one at her. The zoroark twisted out of the way, severing it with a slash of her claws. “Fuck,” she panted. “This ain’t worth it. You’re on your own, kit.”

“What—ack!” Loren yelped as she grabbed him by the scruff and started down the stairs. “Wait, no! You promised—!” His voice trailed off in a yowl as the zoroark flung him over the railing at the half landing below. Strands of silk narrowly missed the delcatty as he sailed through the air, tumbling over and over. His claws scraped on the floor as he landed, alone, panic gripping his heart.

“Go for the ground floor! Good luck!” Mira shouted after him.

He didn’t look, he just ran. He heard another surge of flame, heard the door open above him, heard the thwip of spidops silk flying past him. All of that and she just leaves? he thought. Fuck! Loren continued swearing in his head as he rounded the bottom landing corner at full speed, claws scraping the floor to keep from slamming into the wall. He charged the door and jumped into the push bar with all his might, swinging it open only to bonk right into someone waiting for him. By this point he’d gone through every expletive he knew twice and started making up new ones. Fuck me with a maractus, that’s it. I’m dead. I’m actually dead. He didn’t even see what they were before darkness clouded his vision. And I’m going to pass out, too. I hope she chokes on Arceus’ big fat—

Except fainting didn’t feel like being turned inside out. Loren was yanked somewhere, his vision clearing of darkness but spinning instead. He looked around, seeing Mira crouched in front of him. “Wha…?” he said, wobbling on the unsteady floor. His surroundings came into focus; the marble mezzanine railing, by the impressive double staircase around the center of the lobby. The mezzanine level was completely deserted now instead of just mostly, all its tables and chairs empty. Even the service desks had nobody at them; everyone had probably caught wind of what was going down and made themselves scarce.

“Sorry,” the zoroark said. “Bought us some time, though. Almost out.”

“But I was… how did you do that?” Loren was pretty sure teleporting other people wasn’t something zoroark could do, but at this point he had no idea.

“That’d be telling.” Mira winked at him. “Don’t worry about it. C’mon.”

“That’s your plan? Run? What happened to ‘if we have to fight them I’ve already failed’?”

“If we’d done this my way, I wouldn’t’ve had to,” Mira said.

Loren didn’t know what to say to that. He thought back, trying to figure out if it was true, because he very much didn’t want to believe it. Before he could decide one way or the other, the zoroark kept talking.

“But it’s fine. So there’s a little more heat than anticipated, so what. Big deal. There’s going to be a lot more if we don’t get our rears in gear.” She looked him up and down. “Actually. You’ll fit. Just hold on.”

“Hold on to—hey! Put me down! What are you doing?” The zoroark had her paws under his forelegs, holding him up in the air. Loren struggled fruitlessly, just wiggling his legs in the air. She spun him around and shoved him into her mane, leaving just his head sticking out. Thick red hair surrounded him, tangled and oily and matted. That part offended the delcatty more than being handled like a sack of flour. “The state of your mane is horrendous,” he hissed, begrudgingly shuffling to grip onto her fluff-covered shoulders.

“Just hold on,” Mira said.

Then she was running, and it was all Loren could do to hold on. He peeked out between her ears, watching as she sprinted down the curving staircase. A black and yellow serpent drew himself up at the foot of the stairs, brandishing his red-bladed tail; Mira vaulted the railing ahead of her instead.

She soared over a couch and choffee table and slammed into the facing couch, her momentum tipping it over backwards. The zoroark barely slowed, jumping off and tearing through the lobby on all fours. From his vantage point, the delcatty could only see up, watching pillars, chandeliers, and the occasional table underside zoom by overhead.

He hunkered down as best he could, retreating into her mane, her hair covering his face and blocking his vision. Loren could just feel her moving, tossed up and down as she galloped. Each landing slammed him against her back, the impacts of her paws making four quick jolts before they were airborne again. It was enough to make him queasy.

She swerved to the right, then back left. Wood splintered only a few feet away, followed by the shattering of glass. Somehow he’d expected a zoroark to be subtle. This was the complete opposite. What kind of insane plan involves running out in the open, dodging attacks like this? Of course the only person willing to help me is fucking crazy. That’s actually why, isn’t it. Everyone smart turned me down. At this point, all Loren could do was pray, so he prayed to everyone he could think of. The Three above, the Lake Guardians, the Swords (they weren’t really gods but he was desperate), even the Renegade. Why not? Worth a shot.

Right in the middle of his plea to the Renegade, the Unmaker, Loren found himself flying through the air. The zoroark had stopped like she’d hit a brick wall, and he feared for a second that It had actually heard him. Wait wait I take it back was all he thought before he hit the floor, tumbling across the polished stone. Dazed and dizzy, by some feline instinct he caught himself as his paws brushed carpet and bolted without thinking.

Or looking. Loren slammed facefirst into a creamy wall of tough hide. Massive claws wrapped around him before he could pull away, the sandslash lifting him into a chokehold. She was built like a brick shithouse; he struggled for only a moment before he felt the bite of claws at his throat. “Getting you alive is optional,” she whispered in his ear.

Loren went limp immediately. A stray blast of darkness caught his eye; he didn’t resist as the sandslash slapped him in cuffs, chaining his front and back legs together. He was too busy staring.

A pale blue-gray figure stood in front of Mira, tall and lithe and covered in short dense fur. A long black and red feather stuck from one ear, matching her feathered tail and the colors of her long, hooked claws. Loren’s heart sank right through the floor. He recognized that sneasler. That was Captain Isakova, head of Luciana’s cleanup crew, a brute squad that made her problems disappear. An ex-military relic, the sneasler was as ruthless as she was effective. If she were here—and of course she’d be here, why wouldn’t she be—they were fucked.

The sneasler had Mira by the mane. She yanked the zoroark’s head right into her rising knee, sending Mira’s flamethrower wide, sweeping across the vaulted lobby ceiling. The zoroark grunted, then bared her teeth and roared. She raised her claws high, limned in crimson, and slammed them down. Tenebrous red energy erupted between them, swallowing both her and the sneasler in a massive explosion.

The force of the blast jolted the delcatty and his captor, making the sandslash take a step back to steady herself. Loren squinted into the fading cloud, just barely able to make out two silhouettes, one delivering a roundhouse kick to the head, the other crumpling to the floor. Fuck. Isakova stood over Mira’s body, panting and singed, her long ear feather smoking.

A thievul pushed through the revolving lobby door. “Nice one, Captain!” she said, in a voice so falsely enthusiastic Loren immediately hated it.

“Idiot!” the sneasler snapped. “Hold position!” She dug her venomous claws into the side of the zoroark’s neck. Mira shuddered and went limp, her eyes rolling back to show the whites. The sneasler frowned. “Stay there and hold the doors shut! Nobody gets in or out without my say-so!”

The thievul flinched back with a “Yes sir!” so quick it seemed instinctual. She shuffled back to the door, still revolving, and braced herself against it to stop it. She swept her huge tail around to block the normal door nearby.

Behind Loren, the sandslash holding him spoke up. “But… you got her, boss.”

“It only looks like that. Keep your guard up. It’s obvious none of you slack-jawed idiots have fought a zoroark before.”

Behind him, Loren heard the sandslash shut her mouth. He was in no mood to be amused, though, too baffled by the sneasler’s claim. What? But… I was riding on her. That couldn’t possibly have been an illusion.

“I have,” volunteered a low and sibilant voice. A seviper slithered up, winding his body through the wreckage of a table. He flicked his tongue at the air, red eyes narrow and cunning. “His illusions broke as soon as they were hit.”

A shiny steel bird fluttered down and murmured in assent, tucking his red wings against his silver sides.

Isakova scoffed. “And how would you know if they didn’t break?”

An uncertain silence was the response.

“That’s right. Use those brains; I know that’s unfamiliar for most of you. If you fought a smart one, you wouldn’t even know you were fighting a zoroark.”

“But she didn’t even disguise herself,” the sandslash protested.

“Yes. You know the bell curve? Down at the bottom end is whoever you fought, who couldn’t even keep themselves disguised.” The sneasler traced a humped curve in the air. “Then there’s you, right down with them. In the middle are the zoroark you’d never know are zoroark. And at the top are people like her. If it seemed too easy, that’s because it was. We’re not dealing with some loser.”

Her minions appropriately cowed, Isakova pointed a long, dark purple claw at Loren. “We have to see if the target is real. He’s probably not, but she might have made a mistake.”

The delcatty blanched. “What?” he said, at the same time as the sandslash holding him.

“But boss, I mean Captain sir, he’s solid. I can feel him. You can’t feel illusions.”

The sneasler gave her a withering stare. “Yes you can. That just means she’s close.” She strode over with measured, purposeful steps. As she neared, she lunged.

Loren squealed and turned away, eyes screwed shut and forelegs held close to shield himself. He opened his eye a crack, saw the sneasler’s claws inches away from his chest, and shut it, whimpering.

Isakova sounded smug. “She’s watching, too.”

Fuck. Did Mira really get away? Oh no. He realized something horrible. I should have let her eat me. She was right. I fucked this all up.

“How do we tell, then?” the sandslash asked.

“Make him reveal information she couldn’t know.” She crouched down in front of the delcatty. “Look at me,” she ordered.

He couldn’t muster the willpower to refuse. Loren looked up at the sneasler, meeting her intense red eyes, cold and dispassionate. He desperately racked his brain for some possible out. Maybe Mira still has a plan. If they think I’m an illusion, maybe they’ll let me go and I can get away or meet up with her or something. Maybe that’s part of it.

He felt the sneasler’s claws slip around his middle, his shallow breaths pressing his sides against them. The sandslash shivered nervously behind him. Two points dug into his back.

“How many claws?” Isakova asked.

“Huh?”

They dug in deeper, painfully. “I won’t ask again.”

“T—Three,” Loren gasped, lying.

The sneasler shifted. Five points dug in instead of two. “And now?”

“F—ngh, four.”

“You’re a shit liar. If you’re not real, you won’t mind if I rip out your throat, hmm?” She raised one set of claws to the delcatty’s neck.

Loren panicked. “No no wait I’m real I’m real!” he blurted out, his voice choked to a breathy squeaking. I didn’t think of that, of course they’d just kill me if it didn’t matter! He swallowed, feeling those claws press tighter against his throat. “It was two claws then five!”

Isakova hummed and smirked. “There we have it. Truss him up and ship him out. We’ll be extra careful to make sure that zoroark can’t nab him back.”

I guess that’s my only hope, now. The delcatty slumped. You get what you pay for, I guess. He held still as the sandslash started slipping some sort of harness under his belly, fastening it around his midsection.

“Incredible, Captain!” called the thievul by the door. She seemed like a real asskisser; Loren didn’t like anyone working for Luciana, but he especially didn’t like her. “How do you know all this stuff about zoroark, sir?”

“Painful personal experience.”

The seviper made a thoughtful hissing, like a kettle just before boiling. “Wait. You knew the answers, though. Knew how many claws you used.”

“Yes. Someone has to. That’s how a test works,” the sneasler said in monotone, like she was talking to a failing student.

“Let one of us test,” he hissed. “It shouldn’t be me, I suggested it.”

Isakova regarded the snake coolly, mulling this over. “Fine. Maybe you have enough brain cells to rub together after all.”

The seviper nudged at the skarmory standing next to him. “You do it, Gavin.”

Gavin’s metallic feathers clanked together as he flinched. He shot a glare at the snake, then stalked over to a side table that was still in one piece. The great bird grabbed a pen in his beak and wrote something on the hotel stationary, shielding it from view with one wing. He ripped it off the pad and stomped over to Loren, shoving the paper in the delcatty’s face. “What’s it say?”

It was so close to Loren’s snout he had trouble focusing on it. “Uh…” He squinted. The scribble seemed to shift before his eyes. “Seven?”

The skarmory squawked in annoyance. “Don’t bother lying. I didn’t even write a number.”

The sneasler sighed and put her head in one paw. “Nevermind. You’re all hopeless.”

“I’m not lying,” Loren protested. “That’s what it says! Seven, like the numeral!”

“No it isn’t!” Gavin yanked the paper away and looked at it himself. “What—that’s not what I wrote!”

“You can’t do something that’s so easy to interfere with,” the sneasler said.

“Something doesn’t sit right with me,” the seviper said. “The captain was the only one to fight her up close. Maybe this zoroark here was never real.” He flipped his tail over, bringing the blade down like an executioner’s axe. It swung right through Mira’s collapsed body and clanged against the polished stone floor, sparks flying. Loren flinched; the zoroark shimmered and winked out. “We knew this body wasn’t real as soon as she interfered just now. But there’s something else I’m curious about.”

He leaned down where Mira’s head used to be, tongue flicking to sample the air. “There’s no poison here. It should’ve dripped onto the floor when the captain tried to inject her.”

“I didn’t use any,” the sneasler said, sounding bored. “Her overacting was how I knew she was a fake to begin with.”

“Hmm.” The seviper considered this, slithering closer and lifting his tail back up to be at the ready. “Plausible, I suppose. But why not mention that before?” He looked at Loren thoughtfully. “It seems to me, if I was her, this sets up the perfect opportunity to smuggle the real one out while we cart off the fake.”

That would be a great plan, if I weren’t real, Loren thought. Maybe she’s planning to do that, but swap me somehow, when they’re not paying attention…? It felt silly to hope, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d tasted it now, and couldn’t let go of it.

“She’s smart,” the seviper continued. “She wouldn’t forget about the poison. Which means she can’t fake it. She doesn’t know what sneasler poison smells like.” He looked at Captain Isakova. “But I do. Let me inspect your claws. Sir.”

The sneasler sneered. “You’re not seriously accusing me of being her in disguise, are you?” She drew herself up to her full height, towering over the seviper. “Your name is Volya Ilyin. You are 28 years old. And you are here instead of rotting in a cell like you deserve because we’re the only ones gracious enough to extend a paw to a convicted murderer.”

Volya was unfazed. “None of that is a secret,” he said. “I’ve no doubt Malachi could recite that at the flick of a tail.”

His skarmory friend—Loren got the feeling they were friends—squawked indignantly. “Funny thing to moralize about, in the Meridian of all places.”

“It’s not the murder part that makes him pathetic,” Isakova said. “It’s the ‘convicted’ part. He was sloppy enough to get caught, which is bad, or framed, which is worse.”

“The latter, unfortunately,” the seviper said. “But you’re stalling.”

The sneasler made an angry mrowl and turned back to him. “This, of all times, is when you dipshits think you can shove a stick up your ass and call it a spine? You want to inspect my claws? Come lick them, snake.” She raised her paws, hooked claws at the ready. “I will flay you within an—”

Something whistled through the air and stopped with a wet thunk. A steel feather sprouted from the sneasler’s side. She froze; her form shuddered, shifting, melting, until the tall black fox was standing there, one paw clutching her bleeding side and the other holding an hourglass of glittering sand.

The delcatty stared at her. The seviper was right?! She really was the captain the whole time? Wait, but, how? Where’s the real sneasler? When did she swap? Loren looked closer at the hourglass; the end he could see was inlaid with a blue pentagon. The symbol of the Lady in Blue and Silver…

Everyone else stared, too. The tableau couldn’t have been more than a second, but it felt like it stretched on forever. Then Volya lunged, the skarmory swept his other wing, the sandslash raised her claws—

The zoroark flung the hourglass at the floor. Loren’s eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets as he watched it tumble. It couldn’t be. Surely not. Those were literally priceless; the temples barely made any, and they definitely didn’t sell them. It was said the creation of each one needed personal approval from the goddess of time herself. There was no way she could have one, and if she did there was no way she’d use it on his behalf. And yet.

It smashed with the great chime of a clock, glass and frame consumed in a flash of blue light. Diamond dust scattered all over the floor, hitting a blue pentagon that blazed on the floor around the zoroark’s feet. The sound rang out, then slowed, pitching down and down until it vibrated in Loren’s bones. The sparkling sand reversed, pulling itself together and starting to flow upwards, evaporating into blue flame as it passed an invisible neck. His body felt like lead. He couldn’t move at all.

Neither could anyone else. The seviper was frozen mid-lunge, fangs bared. A barrage of steel feathers crept through the air as though through honey.

“Good work, everyone. Very clever with the poison, I’ll have to remember that.” Mira stepped around the sandslash frozen mid-charge and casually walked over to the delcatty, lying bound on the floor. “It’s been fun! I’ll be taking him, though. See you!” She grabbed Loren by the scruff.

Loren would have said his day couldn’t get any more ridiculous. Surely nothing could top stopping time. Then the zoroark raised her other paw, claws aglow with a vivid greenish-yellow-purple light that he couldn’t look at directly. It made his eyes slide right off. She dug them into the air and slashed straight down, tearing a glowing gash in the middle of the room. On the other side was the ornate filigree of Upper Halcyon’s most iconic bridge, miles away.

That’s—that’s actually not possible! Loren thought. He would have said it, too, but he still couldn’t move in the slightest. You can’t open gates to just anywhere! The location has to be specially prepared first, doesn’t it? Even the best Palkian priests can’t fold space like that on a whim!

Just as the sand was running out, the zoroark saluted and stepped through, carrying the delcatty along for the ride. Loren braced himself as he approached the glowing rift; mentally, at least, as he still couldn’t move. He felt that same sensation of being turned inside out—and then he was through.

The weight lifted from his body; as soon as he could move again, the delcatty looked around wildly. They had just stepped off a bridge, with the waters of the Halcyon River drifting lazily by below. But it wasn’t the bridge he’d seen through the rift. This was still Lower Halcyon, with its red-paved streets and dour buildings indifferent to the harsh afternoon sun. The tied-arch bridge behind them was one close to the Meridian.

Mira let out a self-satisfied sigh. “Ahh… That went well,” she said, still holding him by his purple neck scruff. She was panting softly, a little out of breath. “Bought us plenty of time.” In her other paw, the zoroark held a connection orb, which she tucked back into a pocket on her harness.

Loren was overflowing with incredulous questions. He squirmed in excitement, wiggling his legs, and got another shock: the cuffs and harness binding him were gone. That also made no sense, but it meant the delcatty could get his dignity back, which took priority over questions. “Can you put me down?” he asked, looking to see if anyone had seen. For some reason the other pedestrians weren’t staring; they barely gave him a glance, as though being carried by the scruff were entirely normal. Not to mention they would have just stepped out of a rift in the air… supposedly.

“Oh yeah, I guess you can walk on your own now.” She leaned down, setting Loren on the red-brick pavement. “Go for it.”

The delcatty had never been happier to set paw on Halcyon’s streets, ones he’d never thought he’d see again. These ones weren’t even grimy! He still didn’t kiss them, though. He ran in a tight circle, tufted tail swishing behind him, and let out a somewhat wild laugh. “I can hardly believe it! I’m really out,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you! That was amazing! You really came through!”

“Of course I did. Malachi said I’m the best, and he’s never wrong.” Mira flashed him a confident smirk. She kept walking, striding ahead on long legs. “C’mon. We have plenty of headstart, but we have to keep moving.”

“Right, yeah.” Loren scurried to keep pace. “I thought for a bit I messed everything up by not doing it, uh, ‘your way’.” He glanced at a passing greedent, stepping to hide behind Mira’s legs.

“Nah. I planned for that too.” She nodded to the big fluffy squirrel, who gave her a polite nod back and ignored Loren completely. “Don’t worry about them, I’m disguised and you’re invisible.”

“Oh, now you make me invisible?”

“Yeah, less scrutiny here. Makes it easier.”

“Okay. Whatever. I have other things I need to ask you. Like, firstly…” He struggled to put his questions into words, only managing to babble. “What!? How?!”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Mira said, amused.

The delcatty mewed in frustration. He finally managed to take a deep enough breath to speak properly. “If you could do that the whole time, then why the fuck did we do any of that at all??”

The zoroark chuckled. “Please use your brain. I thought you’d be smarter than those thugs.”

“I’m trying!” The delcatty squeezed his eyes shut. Slowing time, jumping across great distances of space… such things weren’t impossible, but they were the domain of those who devoted their lives to meditation and study of the Three. And there would have been no reason to wait that long when they could have left from the hotel room. The simplest explanation… “The simplest explanation,” Loren said slowly, “is that you can’t do that. It just looked like you did.”

“Go on,” Mira said.

“If the rift was an illusion, then you weren’t actually there. You were actually here. Then the hourglass couldn’t have been real either, so that was an illusion too. An illusory time stop.” He shook his head incredulously. “It felt so real. How’s that even possible?”

“Did it? You’ve felt time stop before?” the zoroark asked, with an audibly amused smirk. “Mess with people’s proprioception and you can do all sorts of funny things.”

“Proprio-wha?”

“Never mind, don’t mind me. Please do keep going; I like listening to people try to reason things out. Don’t expect me to tell if you if you’re right, though!”

Loren shook his head and tried to pick up his thoughts. “So they didn’t really stop. But then they would have hit you—oh, but you weren’t there anyway.” The delcatty blinked. “So you faked getting hit by the feather, too. Wait, but if you weren’t there, if the rift was an illusion, then I couldn’t have been there either. But what about Isakova’s tests? They proved I was really there!”

“Did they?”

He pondered this. “If that was really you the whole time, you made me feel the claws. That’s genius. Then you changed what the paper said so it didn’t matter what the skarmory wrote…” His reasoning hit another snag. “But how did you know the skarmory was writing on the paper in the first place? How did you hear what everyone was saying to make Isakova reply?” That orb she put away… “Maybe you dropped a conn orb and listened in…”

“Maybe.”

Loren looked around. They were on the other side of the river from the Meridian, a long walk away. It would have taken Loren half an hour to get here, but the zoroark was bigger than him; if she’d left right after they got to the lobby and really hustled, it was possible. But then she would have been hundreds, thousands of feet away for most of that…

Something else dawned on him. “How was I hearing and seeing any of it? Isakova said—you said—you had to be in earshot, you had to be able to see things to react to them. And besides that, you said you had to be nearby to do illusions at all!”

Mira grinned. “You think I went through all that trouble to impersonate her just to tell the truth?”

“What? But then, how can you…? What can you really do? And if you were heading all the way here… Can you really make illusions at that range?” She must, unless I’m missing something…

Mira twirled a lock of mane between her claws, wrapping them in red hairs until she got to the black tips, then letting go and starting again. “I can’t reveal all my secrets.”

“You haven’t revealed any of your secrets.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure some out before we part ways.”

“Hmph.” Loren grumbled, lashing his tail. “If neither of us were really there at the end, you could have just stopped the illusion, no? Why bother with all that fancy stuff?”

The zoroark bent down, lowering her head closer to his. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” she said, speaking conspiratorially. “Most of illusion is selling it. You knew a gate like that wasn’t possible, I’m sure. But you don’t have to fool people up here.” She tapped his head, where his purple fur was even more mussed up than before. “You have to fool them down here.” She prodded his side. “In their gut.”

The delcatty hopped away from the poking. “A time stop and a rift in space is what you call ‘selling it’?” he asked, skeptical.

“Sure. It explains how we left. If we just disappeared, it’s obviously fake.”

“But what was the point? What did that accomplish?”

“I just told you,” Mira said. “But to elaborate, that buys more time, and time is what we need.” She grinned. “And, I’ll admit it: I couldn’t resist being a bit flashy on my last job here. It’s fun.”

Loren shook his head. “Fun”. Of course she’s an oddball. He kept pace with her, finally feeling a bit more relaxed after that horrendous bout of stress. “You could have let me in on the plan,” he grumped. “My poor heart. I nearly pissed myself when Isakova threatened to kill me.” He blinked. “Wait, that was you! You did that!”

“Sorry,” said the zoroark, with only a single drop of sincerity. “I told you, though, you probably suck at acting. I made it so you didn’t have to. Pure, genuine reactions. Great job, by the way.”

“Dick. Was that your logic for throwing me down the stairs, too? Pretending to abandon me?”

“It had to look convincing. I would’ve told you to play along if I could, but there was no time.”

“Don’t give me that. With everything else you’ve done, it’s probably trivial for you to whisper in my ear from anywhere you want.”

Mira grinned. “Okay, maybe that was a little white lie. I did want your real reaction. But see, you’re figuring things out!”

“Speaking of the stairs…” Something was gnawing at Loren. The darkness in his vision, the yank… It was a lot like the rift. Which meant it was also fake. Which meant… “How did I get out to the balcony with you? That teleport must’ve been an illusion too.”

The zoroark snickered. “Ah, now you’re catching on.”

The delcatty tried to figure out when it had started. “You can’t have actually thrown me, so maybe that’s when you picked me up? And then your mess of a mane was real…?”

“Rude.”

Loren ignored her. It didn’t sit right with him. The stairs and the lobby, those hadn’t just been illusions, she’d completely taken over his senses. “Controlling what I see and hear,” he mumbled. “That’s only possible if, if…” Something jogged loose from his memory, from that lecture. Never, ever, let a zoroark— “If you have your claws on my head. Maybe the scruff is close enough.” He sighed in relief. “I see. You grabbed me out of your mane. Everything makes sense.”

Mira raised her eyebrows. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Back at school, there was a guest lecturer in the self-defense class…”

“Does that mean you won’t let me pet you anymore?” She reached out, red claws splayed.

The delcatty swerved smoothly away from her paw like he was repelled by a magnet. “No, don’t be weird—” He froze, hackles rising. Oh no. The very first thing she did…

The wideness of the zoroark’s grin confirmed it. “Ah, you remembered! That’s right,” she said. “As soon as I got my claws on your head, you’ve seen only what I want you to see and heard only what I want you to hear. You’ve been with me the whole time.”

“You’ve been doing all this one handed?” The weavile, the stairs, running and jumping in the lobby… there’s no way. “How could you possibly do all that without letting go of me?”

“Maybe that lecturer wasn’t fully right.” Mira opened her mouth a crack in a toothy smirk, lifting the red corners of her lips. “You haven’t figured it out?”

“Is this still an illusion?”

“Is it? I’ll tell you, if you like.”

Loren scoffed. “Why would I believe you?”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “Why ask if you won’t believe the answer?”

“I—” This was a fair point, which Loren found incredibly annoying. “It was rhetorical,” he snapped. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Rhetorical to what effect, exactly?” The zoroark chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t lie about that to people I like, but go ahead, suit yourself.”

The delcatty stopped walking and looked around. How would I tell? Information she doesn’t know, if that’s even true…? Remembering the smell of fresh bread, he scampered back and reared up, putting his paws on the window of the sandwich store they’d just walked past. There was a menu taped behind the glass; it looked completely normal. So did the hours.

He sighed and dropped back to all fours. That hadn’t proved anything. Honestly, after all that, I’m kind of hungry. It felt silly, so mundane at a time like this, but it was true. Maybe I can get a, uh… a… a sandwich? Loren couldn’t remember a single item from the menu. All the items were unremarkable… no, wait. He hopped back up and squinted at it again. He couldn’t read anything. His eyes swam away from the words, but he had the unnerving feeling it was an entirely normal menu, even though he couldn’t name a single item on it. It was like being in a dream. Then he blinked and everything snapped into focus. Seven-inch oran and pecha sub…

“Ah, now you’re really getting it,” Mira said. She’d turned to face him.

She can see the sign now. Loren felt like someone had dumped ice water on him. “…why am I still in an illusion?” he asked.

“If you haven’t figured it out, then you don’t want to know,” the zoroark said.

He stamped his paw. “Yes I do! Stop it! Whatever it is you’re doing!”

She shrugged. “If you insist. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She raised her claws and snapped.

Loren rolled his eyes. Snapping her claws, entirely for effect… Then the world rumbled. He jumped. “W-What was that?” Cracks raced across the street, bricks snapping and shearing. “What’s happening?”

Mira was unruffled, even as the buildings next to her shuddered and fell away. “Showing you the truth.”

“What—” The pavement around Loren crumbled, collapsing into a bottomless void below. “You could have just stopped it!” Red bricks buckled beneath his paws and gave way. “You didn’t have to fucking ‘sell’ this too!” he shouted as he fell, tumbling and twisting through empty space…

---

Loren jolted to his senses, panting for breath, heart pounding in his chest. It felt like he’d just woken from a bad dream, but no matter how many times he blinked, it was still pitch black. The air was hot and humid, and his fur was slick and slimy, just like the wrinkled walls that hugged him from all sides, so tight he could barely move. A heartbeat not his own pounded in his ears. He hadn’t woken from a nightmare. He’d woken into one.

“No,” he said. “No no no no no!” The delcatty tried to struggle, but he was curled up too tight to get any leverage at all. He shuffled miserably back and forth, the loud squishy squelching of his squirms the only thing he seemed to accomplish. “Let me out!” he shouted.

Claws grabbed him by the scruff, lifting him out through what had been solid flesh moments ago. Mira held the delcatty up, shaking her head at him. She tossed him down onto the landing of a narrow wooden staircase, in a narrow hallway, with aging, faded wallpaper. “Told you,” she said. “C’mon.”

Loren kissed at the first step. It tasted like dust and wood and years of grime, and it was wonderful. He was dry again, he noticed, refusing to think about the implications. His ears perked at the creak of stairs, and he scampered up after Mira. “What’s… where are we?” he asked. His legs shook whenever he stood still.

“Safehouse,” the zoroark said. “Of sorts.”

“When… when did we get here?”

“A few minutes ago. You were on such a roll! I didn’t want to distract you.” She stepped off the stairs and padded down the hallway, floorboards creaking under her paws.

The delcatty sagged. He followed, the floor creaking under him too. Not that that means anything at all. “So that… the sandwich menu… that wasn’t even real? I didn’t figure anything out?”

“It’s a real place; it’s practically next door,” the zoroark said, evading his questions. “And you figured out you’re in an illusion!”

“Only because you showed me!”

“Details. You asked a question and I answered it. Don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know the answers.” She unlocked a simple brown door and stepped into an even simpler room, one that made Loren’s hotel room look like the height of luxury.

The delcatty followed her inside and looked around in awed disappointment. The main furnishings were a bed, a table, a single chair and some sitting pillows that looked like they had most recently been washed last century. Empty, dusty shelves adorned the yellowing walls. Light came from a single, bare bulb in the ceiling and from a single-paned window that opened onto a narrow alley. The room smelled a bit stale, faintly of cabbage. “This is a safehouse? This looks like every shitty apartment in the city.”

“Exactly,” Mira said, shutting and locking the door behind him. “There’s hundreds of rooms like this all over Lower Halcyon. They can’t check them all.” She padded over to the low table and took a seat, legs folded neatly on the pillow. She gestured to the other pillow across from her.

Loren walked over and took a seat on his haunches. “So, uh,” he started, but when he looked at the zoroark his words caught in his throat. Underneath her harness, straining against the straps, her belly was taut and swollen. It was distended, wrapped around the shape of something curled up tight inside it. Someone.

He remembered what she’d said to him. It was barely an hour ago, but it felt like days. “Don’t worry, you won’t even notice.” “Oh, by the Three,” he murmured. “You really did eat me.”

“Yes, I thought that was obvious by now,” Mira said. “That wasn’t an illusion, earlier. This is.”

The delcatty felt faint. “In… in the hotel. Was any of that real?”

“What do you mean, ‘real’?” The red corners of Mira’s mouth twisted in a wide smirk. “It was real to you.”

“Ha… haha…” Fantastic. Who even knows what happened? It could all have been made up!

The zoroark rolled her eyes in exasperation. “See, this is why I never tell my clients anything. It doesn’t help.” She sighed. “I won’t bother litigating ‘real’, but if it helps, everyone else in the Meridian saw the same things you did.”

The delcatty didn’t reply. He just slumped, resting his head on the table in front of him. The fake table, he thought, morose. He stayed there, brooding, ignoring Mira’s attempts to talk. Eventually she snapped her claws right in front of his face; Loren flinched back and hissed at the noise.

“Loren! Stop sulking and listen. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

“Fine? Safe? I’m stuck here in the stomach of a crazy zoroark who has total control over everything I perceive!” He pointed a paw at Mira’s distended gut, showing his own curled up shape under her black fur. “Stuck there!”

The zoroark exhaled a puff of air from her snout and waved one paw, wiping the bulge in her midsection away like it was never there. Just her lean, narrow body, almost gaunt under her harness’s black webbing. “This ‘crazy zoroark’ has your best interests at heart. I’m not going to toy with you.”

Loren flumped back onto the table, but pointedly turned his head to the side to avoid looking at Mira. Whatever. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He was more interested in—what’d she call it?—sulking. Yeah. Sulking.

Unfortunately she still seemed to want to talk to him. “Surely you didn’t expect getting smuggled out of the city to be glamorous and comfortable.”

He flatted his ears and glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “No. Of course not. I just thought I’d…” The delcatty trailed off in a frustrated huff. “I don’t know. That I’d get to keep some dignity.”

“Unfortunately, our dignity tends to be among the first casualties at times like this,” Mira said. “I promise traveling with me will be more comfortable than anyone else could manage, though.”

Loren rolled his eyes and said nothing.

The zoroark seemed to get the hint. “All right. If you want some time to yourself, you can have it. You just sit tight and I’ll get us dinner. Sandwich good?” She patted the table with her claws and got up, unfolding her limbs like some gangly cryptid.

The delcatty just grunted. He turned his head the other way, staring at the wall, which featured a big discolored splotch right in front of him. It was an okay splotch, not as good as the hippopotas-splotch in the Meridian, but it’d have to do. He traced its shape with his eyes, listening to the creaks and claw-clacks of the zoroark’s footsteps. The door swung open, swung shut, and locked with a clunk. He was alone.

Loren let out a big sigh. He shuffled off the sitting-pillow and padded across the apartment, barely as big as his hotel room had been and only because the bed was smaller. At least I’m… out. Kind of. And not immediately running for my life. He supposed that much was true. From what he’d seen, this zoroark was a freakishly competent illusionist; she could get him out of the city, for sure. And that turtle had said he could trust her, and everyone seemed to trust him.

He hopped onto the bed, the springs squeaking, and curled up at the foot. It looked like it’d barely fit the zoroark, let alone him. That’ll be a lovely bout of awkwardness. Wait. Loren blinked. How had it slipped his mind so quickly? I don’t need a bed, I’m not even here. For that matter, what did she mean “sit tight”? It’s not like I can go anywhere. It’s not like she can leave me anywhere, either! I’m literally inside her!

He frowned. “Mira!” he shouted. “What’s the point of pretending I’m in the room like this?”

As if in response, an orb rang, buzzing on the table. I don’t think that was there before, Loren thought. He rolled his eyes; as it kept ringing, he begrudgingly trotted over to pick up. “Seriously, a pretend orb call?”

“Hey,” Mira said, on the other end. “What do you want on your sandwich?”

The delcatty was floored. “I—What?”

“I can text you the menu. Hm, actually, I think I’ll get you a wrap.”

“Don’t ignore me. I know you heard me.” He didn’t, but he was pretty sure.

“Who’s ignoring whom? I need to order your sandwich! How about the classic? Oran and pecha?”

“Fine! Whatever! That’s fine, now will you answer me?”

“Be right back.” He distantly heard Mira talking to someone, picking up snippets like “sorry”, “pecha wrap” and “grumpy”.

This is ridiculous. Loren tucked the orb under one foreleg and hobbled three-legged back to the bed, where he curled up to wait more comfortably. Waiting for her to order, on a fake call with a fake orb. He pawed at the blanket. And this is fake too. Or, it’s real, but being able to feel it isn’t… It made his head spin to think too hard about it, so he stopped. The bed was comfortable, regardless of its dubious realness attribute.

He heard Mira sigh on the orb as she returned to him. “Sorry. I thought you could use some privacy for a bit,” she said.

“‘Privacy’? How could I possibly have any privacy, considering where I am? You know everything I’m seeing and thinking!”

“No I don’t,” she said. “Your environment is nearly entirely unconscious for me, and I can’t read your mind.”

“Yeah right,” Loren said. “Isn’t that the only way any of this could work? My movements, what I’m looking at… Obviously you can read my mind!”

“No, no. I can’t read your private thoughts, only what you say and do. Think of me more like, a, uh… hey, have you ever played a tabletop game? Y’know, with the funny dice?”

“You’ve got to be kitting me,” Loren said, flat.

“Think of me like a GM!”

No. Why should I believe you? Loren thought, as loudly as he could.

“Hello? You still there?”

Worth a shot. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I swear it’s true,” Mira said, solemn. There was no jokey, smirking edge to her voice this time. “I know I seem flippant about ‘truth’ and ‘reality’ to you, but they’re very important to me. If I tell you I’m not lying, I’m not.”

Loren was caught off guard by the intensity of her voice. It really did sound important to her. Then he thought about it a little more. “Put another way, I’ve no reason to trust anything you say unless you swear it?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I knew you were a quick study. Oh, food’s ready! See you soon.”

“That—” She’d already hung up. The delcatty let out an exasperated sigh and flopped his head onto the bed. If I do believe her, that’s… reassuring, I suppose. If you were lying, Mira, then I’ll… well, I can’t fucking do anything, can I. But I’ll be really mad and disappointed about it. Take that.

A few minutes later, he heard the creaks of someone coming up the stairs. The creaking moved to the hallway, stopping outside the door. The lock clunked and Mira pushed it open, slipping inside with a brown paper bag held in one paw. “Loren?” she said, looking over at the table before spotting him on the bed. “Ah, there you are. Feeling better?”

“Maybe,” the delcatty said, still sullen. “No.”

After setting the bag on the table, Mira crossed the room to approach him. She took a seat on the bed next to him, the springs creaking under her weight.

Loren didn’t look at her, let alone acknowledge her. This came right back to bite him when he felt her claws on his back, stroking at his fur. He hissed, fur standing on end, but it was a half-hearted objection. He hadn’t had a friendly touch in what felt like forever, and he was exhausted. The delcatty slumped, pushing his head against the zoroark’s leg. This is fine, I guess.

Mira hesitated, then kept petting him. Looking down at him, she brushed her mane out of her eyes, as though it would help her see him better. “This is the best way. It’ll be easy for me to slip out of the city, and then it’ll be a smooth trip to the capital. And you’ll always have someone to talk to.”

“I guess,” the delcatty said, resigned. Not like anything I say matters. “Couldn’t you have lied about letting me out, at least? Said you did it?”

“No!” she said, with surprising vehemence. She softened her voice when she continued. “That’s not my style, and you’re too smart for it. You’d figure it out and be even angrier about it. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Hmph.”

“Here. Let me show you something neat.” Mira patted him, then stood up and padded to an empty section of wall. She fished a key out of her pockets and pressed it directly into the wall. It turned with a smooth click. A lock materialized around it, and around the lock a pristine white door, shimmering into being right before Loren’s eyes. The frame set itself into the wall like it’d always been there, old and yellowing just like the baseboard.

The delcatty watched warily from his spot on the bed. “What’s that?” What kind of nonsense is she going to pull now…?

The zoroark pulled the key free. “It’s for you. Here.” She tossed it.

Lying on his belly, Loren didn’t catch it. The key and the fine chain it was on hit him right in the face (“Sorry!”) and dropped to the bed. It stung a little. “What?” The delcatty pushed himself to his haunches and fished it out from under himself, tucking one forepaw into the chain and holding it up so he could inspect it. The key was made from a clean silvery metal, but looked like an antique in design, long with a comically simple bit. “What is it?”

“What do you think? It’s the key to your room.”

“…my room?”

“Yes, your room. What, you thought you’d be following me around like some sort of ghost all the time? I mean, you can if you want, but—” Mira shook her head. “Just get off your butt and come see.” She turned the knob. White light glimmered around the edges of the door before she pushed it open and stepped inside.

All the delcatty could see from his seat was more white. ”…Fine,” he said, sighing. He slipped the key’s chain around his neck and trotted over to the door. The sight made his eyes widen.

On the other side was a cozy room, clean and new. The air inside smelled fresh, unlike the staleness of the “safehouse” behind him. Sunlight streamed from the window; the view was almost the same, but several floors higher, looking over the roof of the building across the alley. The light bounced off the hardwood floor and the pink carpet in the middle of the room, casting a welcoming warm glow over everything. The furniture was all painted white, in much better condition than the ones outside. A table, a desk, dressers, all made for someone his size. The bed was luxuriously big, its sheets and pillows a warm pink-orange that matched the carpet. They were also rumpled and messy, sheets folded back and the blankets askew, an oddly comforting and organic imperfection in the otherwise idyllic room.

“Sorry, I forgot to change the sheets after my last guest,” Mira said, offering Loren an apologetic shrug. “I have fresh ones, don’t worry.” She smiled, practically beaming at him. “Do you like it? I made it myself! You can use that key to get here from anywhere; just turn it and it’ll summon the door.”

“It’s… fine,” Loren said. But it’s not real. Fresh sheets? What is she on about?

She shrugged. “You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want. But there’s only one bed out there, so we’d have to share.”

The delcatty grit his teeth, tail lashing behind him. “Why are you doing this? I don’t need a bed! I’m not real!”

Mira crouched down and looked him eye to eye, turquoise to gray. “Yes you are,” she said. She reached out to put her paw on his shoulder, remembered he didn’t like his ruff being touched, and left her paw half extended, sort of aimless in the air. “You still need to sleep, so you may as well be comfortable doing it.”

“But all this, everything here, none of this is real,” Loren said.

“Yes it is. It is if you believe in it.” The zoroark sighed. She held up both her paws, motioning with one, then the other. “Let me put it this way. Your body is in one place; your mind is in another. They’re both real, in a sense. I can put you back in your body if that’s really what you want, but I did that earlier and you hated it.”

Loren shuddered. No, she was right, he did hate it. But he also hated feeling powerless.

“You can have that reality, or you can have this one. Which one do you want?” She gestured to the key he was wearing around his neck. “Actually, you can choose for yourself. If you turn that key to the right, if you lock it all the way, you’ll get dropped back into your physical body. Your ‘real’ one, though I don’t like the term.”

And she claims she can’t read my mind. “Fine.” The delcatty tossed his head and snatched the key out of the air, shoving into the empty space in front of him. It slid in smoothly, a lock materializing around it, floating in the air. Fuck this and fuck you, Loren thought, twisting his head to the right. The mechanism clicked partway; he let go and leaned the other way to regrab it, starting to finish the turn. He glared up at the zoroark. She was just watching him, arms crossed. He let go. “Well? Aren’t you going to try to stop me?”

Mira’s brow’s furrowed. “Why? If this is what you want, it’s what you want. I only want you to be as happy as possible given the circumstances.”

The delcatty shook his head and grabbed the key. He leaned to the right, feeling the resistance of a lock about to slide into place, and hesitated. That way was hot, slimy darkness, curled up so tight he could barely move. Why would he do that? If his mind could be anywhere, why there? Loren squeezed his eyes shut. “Given the circumstances”, meaning she won’t let me out, if it’s my choice…

He turned his head to the left. Drop, regrab, left again, and the key slid out, dropping to rest in the front gap of his purple neck ruff. “Can you… can you change the sheets?”

The zoroark smiled. “Of course.” She shuffled around and pulled open the bottom doors of a set of cabinets. There was more bedding inside, that same warm pink-orange.

Loren didn’t like the look of them. They reminded him too much of… well. “Do they have to be that color?” he asked. “It’s too… fleshy.”

Mira blinked. “Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” She closed the cabinet. “I think I have more in the closet.” The zoroark padded over and pulled the folding closet door open, reaching up to pull down a basket of folded bedding. “Is purple good?” It was a lovely purple that complemented his own.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s… fine,” Loren said. He felt a bit lost, adrift. The mundanity of what Mira was doing was such a contrast to the absurdity of his situation that it made everything feel surreal. There she was, stripping down the bed, tossing the blankets and sheets into a laundry basket in the closet. And here he was, watching her do it. Except this is all in my head, he thought. She could just snap her claws and change the color or make the bed. Why doesn’t she? He opened his mouth to ask, but hesitated. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe he already knew. The annoying part was that it was working. It felt… real.

Her voice startled him. “Hey Loren, can you help me with the sheets? Putting on the fitted one is always a pain.”

He sighed. “Yeah, okay.” The delcatty trotted over and took one corner in his mouth, helping Mira stretch it over the head of the mattress. They repeated the process with the foot, then he helped tuck in the top sheet and the blankets. By the end, he was panting a little, but it felt good to do something. He’d almost forgotten it was all an illusion. Maybe he didn’t care as much anymore. Maybe she was right.

He hopped onto his bed and sprawled out, rolling atop the fresh blankets. It was soft and cushy, much better than the squeaky bed outside, much better even than the bed at the Meridian. The delcatty couldn’t help but let out a pleased meow. As he lay there, the bed squished. Mira joined him, sitting nearby. She reached over to run her claws through his fur; he allowed it, even rolling over to lie against her warmth.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said. “You’re doing great, really.”

“Mrwwrr,” Loren replied.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Mira patted him a couple times. “I’m going to go eat. I’ll be out there if you need anything.” She got up from the bed and padded towards the door. “Oh, and don’t forget, your wrap is out there too. You have to eat, or you’ll feel terrible later.”

“I know, I know,” the delcatty grumbled. “Don’t kitten me. I’m hungry anyway.” He rolled to his paws, stretched, and yawned. Then he jumped down and followed her out.

It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table, wrap held in his paws, mouth open to take the first bite, that he froze. He looked up at the zoroark sitting across from him, tearing off chunks of her own sandwich with gusto. “You let me out for dinner, right?”

She nodded and grunted an “mmhm”, then swallowed. “Of course. Already have.”

Loren looked down, towards where the key lay against his chest. She didn’t swear it. I could find out. I could just ask her. He looked back to Mira; she had her head tilted curiously. “Is this an—” He paused. Of course it is, at least in part, because I’m clean and dry. “Are you telling—” Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to. He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Mira shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

Loren answered by taking a big bite of his wrap. The sliced oran and pecha berry were delicious, a lovely blend of smooth and sweet. He went right back in for another. It’s going to be a long trip. But maybe it won’t be so bad.