04: Borderlands

     Stirring uncomfortably on his roll mat, Fletcher's first thought of the morning was of time. They'd left Gallentry three days prior, and every morning since he'd been woken by that pissy jackal, traipsing through the camp and gleefully ringing a bell an hour or so past dawn. Today he woke peacefully, no barking or yipping through the camp, no background rustling or complaining from the crew; there was even a sun warming his little tent.

     Groaning, Fletcher pulled himself up, tugging on a faded pair of jeans and doing his boots up. He then buttoned on a black and green flannel shirt, smoothing the fur on his tail down quickly before stepping out into the crisp morning air. He stretched in place, the worry already building inside him.

     Are we still in Fulbright? What happened? He thought, checking the watch in his pocket – 10:14AM. Late. He began to wander through the camp, his eyes searching between tents and wagons for a familiar face. Excepting Miss Meridian and Thume, he'd only spoken to two other members of the circus for any significant length of time, still unable to shake the feeling of being out of place. He knew it had only been a few days, but he couldn't help noticing how the others side-eyed him, presumably wondering just what his deal was. Had she told them? Did they all know he was a rich boy fleeing his father?

     And did they know he liked boys? More so, did he mind if they did? Did they know that he knew that they might know? Once again Fletcher wished he knew a word for what he was besides bugger and sodomite. He felt like most people had nothing against it – it was too warm and humid to worry much about who others chose to sleep with, but it certainly wasn't a thing most people felt comfortable talking about. Their tolerance only extended so far.

     If only a Baron could afford to be so cursory, we wouldn't have found ourselves travelling in an actual circus. Fletcher laughed to himself, it did seem like something out of a fairy-tale. Though part of him still wondered how exactly his father would have reacted if he had told him; it would have been terrible he knew that much, but just how far would the Baron have gone?

     The Baron. Not 'my father', he's just the Baron now. Separated from me by a title, sharing only blood. Old Gods, he was starting to sound like Thume.

     While the ornery goat in question was nowhere to be seen at present, Fletcher eventually managed to stumble upon the two young leopards he'd been making polite conversation with for the past few days. Nobu and Narem Raiji; identical twins as far as he could tell, and so far always seen together. There wasn't much time to talk while they were all moving, but on the few rest stops allowed the two had been happy enough to chat with him. It was a nice relief, joking around with people his own age, especially when they were so carefree. Neither of the two wore shoes, and Narem had a black singlet over his torso while Nobu wore white – Fletcher found the colour coding kind of endearing.

     “Ah, so the sleepy puppy is awake then." Narem said, waggling his eyebrows and leaning back against the small coffee-station the duo had crowded around. Fletcher blushed, rubbing his stiff neck.

     “Am I up late then?" He asked, as Nobu snickered, setting out a third mug for coffee. He quickly poured it and passed it over. Fletcher accepted it gratefully – a tentative sip telling him it was a little strong for his palette, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

     “Nobody sleeps in late here, it's just a…a thing. You are the last one up I think." He said, lips still tilted in a playful smile.

     “Do you think they noticed?"

     “Ha, of course! They notice everything here. I'm certain Miss Meridian has told you we are a family, but families do like to gossip." Nobu replied, meeting his eyes.

     “So, we never asked…" Narem began, sipping his drink. “You're here to shoot, right?" His tail danced airily behind him, his face wearing an expression of amusement. He had such a well-toned and slender body that Fletcher couldn't help eyeing it. The two cats were apparently an acrobatic duo, they had some kind of leaping and catching act that always drew plenty of applause. “Are you good?"

     “I…I think I'm pretty good, yeah." He replied sheepishly.

     “Hopefully they have you start practicing soon, will be difficult to fit you in. I wonder where he'd go?" Narem asked, glancing to his brother.

     Nobu shrugged, downing the last of his drink. “Eh. Don't suppose you can do close up magic there Fletcher? We could replace Raime with you instead." Fletcher shook his head.

     “No, just shooting. But…but I am good." He said, trying to affirm himself better. It felt…weird.

     “Mhmm I trust." Narem said, teeth flashing. “Good at hitting targets…or people? Hopefully just targets, eh?" He glanced to his twin.

     Nobu nodded in agreement. “Yes, after all, we already have Lyric for shooting people."

     “I…I've never shot a person before." Fletcher admitted. The leopards both nodded, stacking their empty mugs onto the table.

     “That is best I think." Narem said. “You are too nice for that Fletcher." He blushed at that too, shrinking back and staring into his half-filled drink.

     “So…" He began slowly, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “How come we aren't moving today?" He asked, trying not to sound too eager. Did they know he was running from something? They must have assumed, surely. “I…I thought we were meant keep going a few days, until we hit Bantam. South yeah? Are we still in Fulbright Province, or is this Vellem, do you know?" The words tumbled out a little too fast, and he wanted to clamp a paw down over his mouth to stop them.

     “We are half a kilometre outside Rusten, according to Miss Meridian, about a half-day or so from the border." Nobu said with a shrug, turning to leave. Fletcher wanted to roll his eyes, he knew where Rusten was, he and his father had visited it often; it was like a smaller, more depressing Gallentry. “We are heading off to get in a routine together before it heats up too much, but Miss Meridian said we should send you her way when you were up. She also said to tell you not to panic." Narem laughed at that, skipping forward and laying two rapid taps onto Fletcher's chest.

     “You must relax puppy, and calm those unquiet eyes." Then he winked, twisting delicately to follow after his brother.

     Fletcher shook his head, turning in place to head back towards the centre of camp, trying to remember just where exactly Meridian had set up her surprisingly modest tent. After ten minutes of hunting, he found it hiding behind the red and blue 'costume wagon', which had one of its wheels being looked at by a giant, muscle-bound tiger.

     “How you doin' kiddo?" The big cat asked flippantly, nodding as Fletcher passed by.

     “Er, I'm good thank you. Is…the wagon okay there?" He said, pausing in place.

     “Ah, she'll be right, I just like to look at them every now and then y'know." The woman said, arching her neck and standing. She was probably close to six foot seven, a herculean stature built entirely out of solid muscle, an impressive feat of both breeding and effort; especially for a cat. She offered up a monster of a striped paw to him, giving a warm smile.

     “We haven't met right yet, sorry, been busy what with the move. I'm Clementine De Ville." Fletcher narrowed his eyes for a moment before accepting the paw, shaking it. Her hand could almost close all the way around his delicate extremity, and he was shocked at how cautiously tender her grip was.

     “Fletcher…er…just Fletcher, for now." Clementine nodded, seemingly unbothered by his refusal.

     “Perfectly reasonable." She said with no hint of sarcasm, putting the big paws on her hips and examining the morning going-ons. “But I'll say this to ya – everyone here has a history they don't much like talkin' 'bout. You ain't gonna find much judgement in regards to yer past with this lot, I bet you mosta 'em seen worse. Sure, they'll be sore 'bout you being new fer a bit, but we're outcasts, used to keepin' ourselves safe, give us time to warm up and they'll cover ya like a good quilt."

     “Even Raime?" Fletcher asked, cocking his head. Clementine chortled at the comment, holding her stomach as she did. It seemed such a genuine action, and Fletcher found himself adoring the sound.

     “Ah, you've met the fine Mister Transeldaimor then?" She replied. Fletcher shook his head, blinking at the name.

     “No, just something the twins said."

     “He rubs people the wrong way mosta the time, but…well he's a prick but he ain't cruel y'see. Good heart…maybe, just learned too many ways to cover it up over the years." Her smile died a little as she stared into the distance. “But I'm distracting you too long, I'll let you get to it. Pleasure meeting you, young master Fletcher."

     He nodded, trying not to shiver at the use of 'master'. Too much like home. “You too Clementine, good luck with the wheel."

     “Thankya." She nodded, kneeling down again and picking up what Fletcher thought was a socket wrench.

     The morning was so peaceful, in fact every day with the Midnight Meridian so far had been charming – even if requiring some tough work to keep moving. It had been only three days, but he hadn't woken up stressed once yet, worrying over what insane stunt his father was likely to pull that day. He exhaled contently, turning back and heading in towards Merissa's tent. As he got closer he heard aggravated voices, noticing that the tent flap was hanging partway open.

     “I'm just saying it can work for everyone." The first voice – definitively masculine - snapped. “Bantam is a two-hick town and you know it! A few more days' travel and--"

     “No." The raven hissed. “We do things my way last time I checked, Bantam is a fine that we can't afford to leave sore. How you think Baron Vellem will take us skipping by to a bigger and shinier city huh? We'll make our way to Firebrand soon I promise, so long as you force yourself to relax. I don't need the constant undermining right now, not with everything else going on." Fletcher froze, unsure if he should wait and eavesdrop, or come back in twenty minutes.

     “Then at least let me go ahead and--"

     “What, and leave the circus down our only jester? I think not. Besides, I have errands awaiting me in Bantam, not all of us can just go gallivanting around the damn country at the drop of a dime!"

     “This is fucking ridiculous." The first voice said. “You're being unreasonable, you know what's at stake here, what if we had said--"

     “No. You pulled that shit on me in Gallentry, it's not a trump card you get to bring out whenever you want to get your way. You're acting like a child. Suck it up and wait, and I better not find you missing when we get to Bantam, is that clear?" Fletcher bit his lip, unsure what to do. He could feel the weighty silence hanging in the tent. “I said are we clear, are you deaf now too?"

     Fletcher jumped as the tent flaps smacked open, the tailless jackal from the other day storming out. He didn't look at Fletcher as he stalked by, huffing to himself.

     “Oh, so you're here too. Fantastic." Merissa said, standing just outside her little tent. Fletcher blanched, looking to her and feeling very caught out. “This day only gets better doesn't it?" He swallowed, suddenly feeling very small and embarrassed.

     “The…the twins said…you…asked…" He said, each word growing quieter and quieter. Finally, he stopped, throwing his paws up desperately. “I'm sorry!"

     The raven sighed, her obsidian feathers shimmering in the morning sun. It was heating up more and more by the minute, and Fletcher could already tell the afternoon was going to be a sticky and humid one. “No, I'm sorry, it's fine - I did ask to talk with you…Good morning Fletcher, please come in." He gave a sort of pleasant grimace, awkwardly following her inside the tent.

     He briefly wondered if she hated him.

     I've caused so much trouble already. He thought, the guilt pressing onto his chest. And I'm bound to cause more.

     “So, you've been speaking with the twins then? They're not teasing you too much are they?" She asked. Fletcher shook his head, relaxing slightly.

     “No, they're both very nice."

     “Good, good."

     “I do keep hearing about Raime though." He said, and to that Merissa sighed deeply. She fell into a small chair, motioning for him to do the same.

     “Ah, those two love to hate our poor magician. He tries his best, but sometimes I don't wonder if it gets to him. Though he does bring a lot of it on himself I won't lie." Her voice carried a delightful sing-song kind of a cadence as she spoke, and Fletcher realised then that he found Miss Meridian impossible to read.

     “So…what did you want to talk to me about?" Fletcher said, willing himself to relax. Knowing they were still technically in Fulbright Province, even if a good three days ride from Gallentry…it unnerved him. Surely Mason would realise by now what had happened, and Fletcher wondered if he would send bounty hunters?

     Of course he would. Thume stole his property, disrespected him. Can't allow that. He shuddered, a thousand tiny spiders running down his spine.

     “I thought you might be feeling nervous, considering we aren't quite out of the woods. I just wanted to allay your fears myself, and let you know we're only stopping for the day. We'll be up again and moving tomorrow, but I've been pushing them hard – trying to put some decent distance between us and Gallentry."

     “Oh." Fletcher said, his mouth falling open stupidly. He hadn't realised. “For me?"

     Meridian nodded. “Of course you idiot. Normally this would have been a five-day trek with perfect conditions, but Lyric thought it best we really move. Though…he does have his own reasons for wanting to go south." She trailed off, shaking her head as she thought of some new reason to be mad at the jackal.

     “Ah." He didn't know what else to say.

     “Anyway. We needed some supplies, and I thought we'd have the minor acts do a walk-in later too. I always feel a little bad for the people stuck in these small towns, they're so isolated out here, can't expect them to put their lives on hold, pack it all up and travel days just to see our little performance." Fletcher nodded, that made sense. It was a nice gesture, one that gave him warm tingles in his chest.

     Though still a fear chewed at him, the thought that Miss Meridian – kind and intelligent as she seemed – didn't quite understand Mason Fulbright the way Fletcher did. The last thing he wanted was anyone to be hurt on his account.

     “What do you mean by a walk-in?" He said instead, holding onto his worries for himself. Merissa couldn't quite smile with the beak, but she dipped it in a small approximation of the gesture.

     “So, when the full big-top is up, we have two stages. People pay for one ticket to it all, and the gates open. Our guests walk about exploring, they buy snacks, they see the little minor shows at their own leisure. We'll have Brandon, and Theodore, and Jenny, and Dope all out doing their thing. They aren't the most exciting acts, but they get some tips sometimes and put people in the right mood to be wowed. I call it the auxiliary performance. Then we shuffle everyone in for part two; they sit down before our stage, and the real show begins. The twins, Clementine, Raime, Aloysius, they all get going, supported by Lyric and myself. A walk-in is really just the auxiliary show, maybe a little less dramatic than we usually do it up." She explained, using her reptilian claws to emote dramatically as she spoke, shimmering black feathers aflutter along the length of her arms.

     “Oh, that sounds really interesting. I can't wait to see it." It was true, he felt like a little kid, desperately wanting to see what made the show special – it all seemed so mystical right now, he had no idea what to expect.

     “Oh darling, you'll love it I promise." She said, bowing her head. “I've been thinking in fact where we might put you…I wanted to start you outside since it's lower key, but the shooting…if we combine it with Raime or even the twins it could be something really special. I think you'll be a main act for certain." Fletcher felt a sudden panic sensation; like dipping his face in warm water, his neck shuddering as the dread enveloped him.

     For all his efforts to run away and join the circus, he had never put much thought into actually performing in it. Stupid.

     “I…I see. That…yeah. We'd have to practice it." He stammered. Merissa tittered in delight.

     “Of course, of course" She chattered, her little dark claws clasped together before her. “Have you thought about costumes? Normally, most of the majors do their own designs, but to be frank they're always quite atrocious at first step. It's difficult to understand the Meridian aesthetic, a kind of gothic-tea-party is the feel I strive for…with a little whimsy thrown in for good measure."

     “I hadn't even thought about costumes. What do they normally look like, er, more exactly?" Fletcher asked. He had no idea what 'whimsy-filled-gothic-tea-party' even meant, let alone how to design a costume that fit within it. “And who makes them?"

     “It depends. I usually do most of the broad strokes, pick the fabrics and such, then it's up to either me, Lyric, or Jenny do most of the cutting and sowing. Sometimes Aloysius helps too." She paused, cocking her head as something occurred to her. “Tell me; do you think you could still shoot while wearing an eyepatch?"

     “Um…" What a weird question. “Maybe? I've never thought about it. Probably, I usually close one eye for focus anyway."

     “We'll find out then won't we dear?" Merissa chuckled yet again. Why was everyone in this weird group always laughing? It was like they were all in on some joke. “Anyways. I do have things bothering me that need dealing with sooner rather than later. My advice to you; it's fine to go into Rusten if you like, it'd be good for you I think, but take a friend or two with you for camouflage. I'd keep Mister Thume away too – there are plenty of reddish coyotes out this way, but he's a bit too recognisable, and the personality doesn't help it. I doubt your father has men this far out already, but be wary just in case. If anything happens, you go straight to Lyric." Fletcher nodded, standing. He wondered what exactly Lyric's role was here in the circus, Miss Meridian kept referring to him as if he were important, but she was obviously the one ultimately in charge. It felt to him so far like Meridian and the jackal were more support structures to the performers, they held them up and constructed the show, rather than being the show themselves.

     “Okay. Uh…thank you. We're going tomorrow though right?" He felt tension creeping up his neck again. Just how far exactly were they from the town itself?

     “That's right." Merissa said, as he turned to leave. “Oh and Fletcher? We will keep you safe here, so try your best not to worry." He smiled, feeling a trickle of warmth in his chest.

     “Thank you." He said again, disappearing back outside.

     The day warmed up as he'd expected, and Fletcher occupied the time by sitting around with Thume, meticulously taking apart his rifle, cleaning each piece, and slowly rebuilding it.

     “Do you think I should be practicing?" He asked, sliding the top bolt back into place and looking down the sight. “Miss Meridian was saying she might put me in the major show. I don't want to let them down, not after they've done so much."

     “It's up to you boy." Thume said, knocking back a cold-ish beer he'd scrounged off one of the friendlier performers.

     “Do you think we'll actually be safe here?" Fletcher said, reattaching his rifle sling and setting it down near their luggage. “Miss Meridian kept saying they'd protect me, but what if we're causing them trouble? They don't know what they're getting into." Thume sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

     “I don't know Fletch, but that there is up to them. Nothin' we can do 'cept try to earn the keep." He said, not looking to the coyote.

     “I guess." Fletcher continued. “What are you gonna do then? Perform?" The old goat snorted, shaking his head.

     “I ain't some trick pony kid. I'll do what they need sure as shit, but it's a matter of both talent and stage-presence, and I got none of it. The universe has seen fit to displace us with this freak show, nothing we can do but make the best of it." He looked over lazily, eyes red. “Last thing I'd wanna do is piss off whoever might be runnin' our divine interference, huh? So I guess I'll…sell food or design posters or some shit." Fletcher shrugged, thinking he was pretty sure Thume was the one who 'displaced' them with the show, and not the universe.

     It was the first odd thing the old goat had said since they left Gallentry. In fact, he'd been especially quiet the last few days.

     Does he regret leaving? Is he mad at me? Fletcher wondered. Thume had presented as someone who held disdain for Baron Fulbright, but he could have left earlier, he wasn't a slave. Did I make a mistake? What if he's not as critical as I thought? Fletcher started imagining the whole thing as some elaborate trap, trying to think of ways his father would torment him like this – just to make some point. Were they all in on it? Was this even a real circus?

     He was shaken out of the increasingly preposterous delusion when two slender feline paws smacked down onto his shoulders, squeezing harshly. He jumped, yipping slightly as he looked up to see Narem peering down at him.

     “Hello there stray, what are you doing out here?" He asked. Fletcher smiled awkwardly, looking around and finally spying Nobu; the leopard had taken a seat in the dirt not far from Thume, watching them both.

     “Not much." Fletcher answered.

     “Sounds boring." Nobu said. Fletcher shrugged, and above him Narem nodded.

     “Very dull." He tsked. “Goat! You have not been entertaining your charge?" Thume finally looked up, his weird eyes narrowing on Narem.

     “Haven't you two fools got anything better to do than bother us?"

     “Nope." Narem said. “And we are the acrobats, not the fools." His teeth flashed as Thume scowled.

     “We did our practice, but now it is far too hot for jumping." Nobu said, mock-fanning himself with his tail in paw. “In fact we were considering a drink in town – Miss Meridian is setting up the show for walk-ins, but we are not to be part of that."

     “That 'cause you annoy the customers? I'd ask you to leave too if it were up t'me." Thume snorted, sipping his beer. Above Fletcher's head Narem removed his paws, crossing them and harrumphing.

     “We were not asked to leave, old man. We are simply not part of the show and have elected to leave for something more fun." He said, turning his nose up. “I think you would get along with our famous greyhound, the Great and Mystical Transeldaimor."

     “Raime would like you." Nobu countered.

     “That ain't none'a my business. Now why don't you two kittens scram before I get cranky? You're on my lawn." Thume said back, looking away into the distance again.

     “We know when we are not wanted!" Narem said, slapping Fletcher on the shoulder. “Fletcher, will you accompany us into the town? There is a bar that doesn't look like it smells too bad I think." Fletcher opened his mouth to say no, but paused.

     Meridian had said he could go into town, and if anyone were to look at them they'd probably just see three young idiots enjoying themselves. Besides, most people would probably be out exploring the circus walk-in show. Part of him wished to see that as well, but he was eager for the twins to like him – it had been a long time since Fletcher had friends.

     “Uh, okay sure." He said, standing.

     “Fletch!" Thume snapped, also getting to his feet. “Hell, we're not even out of the damn province yet boy, you can't wait to get drunk in Bantam?" Indecision crept into Fletcher's mind, and he froze, suddenly unsure.

     “Don't be such a spoil." Nobu said, grinning.

     “Miss Meridian said she thinks it'll be fine…" Fletcher said meekly.

     “She doesn't know the person after you like we do." Thume growled, getting closer. “Don't be stupid, this isn't a holiday, or a game."

     “You are a mysterious little stray aren't you?" Narem giggled, squeezing Fletcher's arm. He was about to agree with Thume, when the doubts turned. “Who is this one that is so mad with you huh?"

     It would be less crowded in town because of the show, he was in a group, and they'd keep him safe. On top of all that, he'd run away precisely to get away from people dictating what he did and didn't do. This wasn't the same as being sold into marriage, but the principle stood regardless – he was sick of being controlled, he wanted to do something for the sheer joy of doing it.

     “I'm gonna go." He said defiantly. “I'll wear a hat, if it makes you feel better, but I'm going." And he scurried over to his tent, digging in his bag and pulling out an old, well-oiled hat. It had little holes in the top where his ears could poke through, and was made out of some kind of worn black leather, the frayed material turning up ever-so-slightly at the edges.

     “Very smart." Nobu said with a mock bow. As he went to follow the twins, Fletcher felt Thume grab his arm.

     “Don't do anything you'll regret boy." He hissed.

     “I won't." Fletcher said. “I'll behave." He tugged himself free, hurrying to follow Nobu and Narem.

     The walk into town took a little over fifteen minutes – not far by any means. The moisture in the air slowed them down however, broken only by the slightest of breezes picking up off the swamp water nearby. Thankfully it was a little dryer towards the south, and they didn't have to wade through anything to get where they were going.

     Rusten was as Fletcher remembered it; primarily made up of spread out low buildings, all made out of an off-putting orangeish kind of wood that clashed hideously with murky green and grey swampland. He could imagine the entire town creaking in the wind, every exposed surface caked in a fine coat of dust all year round. It wasn't too busy in the main street, although there was one saloon in particular seemed rowdier than the others. The trio skipped over that one, heading towards the far side of town to the place Narem had mentioned. It was called Pawel's Bar, and looked surprisingly nice from the outside.

     Inside it was a little dingier than Fletcher had expected, but there was a calm atmosphere and the air seemed fresh enough. The three sauntered up to the bar and were greeted amicably by a grey horse.

     “Whaddya you lot want then?" He huffed nonchalantly.

     “What do you have?" Nobu asked.

     “Whiskey or beer." The horse snorted. They each chose beer, and Fletcher was delighted when it was cool. He didn't expect a town like this to have bars with power.

     “So…are you Pawel then?" Narem asked, after finishing a long sip. He pronounced it 'pah-well', and the horse chuckled, rolling his eyes.

     “First off partner, it's pronounced Pah-vill." He said in a slow, Gallentry drawl. “Second, Pawel himself is long dead. You only missed him by about forty years. His sons of daughters own this place, but I just work here." He leaned on the bar, glancing around. The place wasn't busy.

     “And your name then?" Nobu asked.

     “I'm Chet."

     “Pleasure to meet you Chet." The twins said in unison, and he nodded. Narem gestured to each of them. “I am Narem, this is Nobu, and this doggie is our friend--"

     “Jonah." Fletcher said quickly, cutting him off. Fletcher wasn't a super rare name, but it was unusual enough to stick in people's heads. Narem gave him a weird look, but nodded slowly.

     “Mister Jonah." He repeated, as if trying the name out. “We are buying his drinks tonight, to celebrate us all becoming very good friends!"

     “That's lovely." Chet said sarcastically, sighing. He gave the bar a slap as an old warthog sat down at the end, giving them each a smile and shuffling on down to serve.

     Fletcher blushed, unsure how to act. “Er, thank you. You two are so nice."

     “We try." Nobu said, his tone less playful now. “We like to have fun, and are glad when someone new is happy to play along. Many of our co-workers, they are older you see, or otherwise more serious…such as in the case of Lyric Tellurian, you must have noticed." He knocked back his beer, lips smacking after he swallowed.

     “He's the only reason I'm here really." Fletcher admitted, shrugging. “He does seem very gruff though."

     “He likes to take care of people, he and Miss Meridian both." Narem added, waving for more drinks. Fletcher felt awkward, looking down and realising he still had half of his own remaining. He quickly downed it, accepting the new drink with thanks and trying not to belch.

     The three turned to lighter subjects as the sun set outside, the bar filling up a little but never getting too wild. Together they worked their way through five beers each (six for Nobu), before stumbling outside giggling and laughing.

     “Oh, oh wait." Fletcher said, feeling a tad dizzy. “My-hat, hold up here…" The twins nodded, sitting back against a feral-tether and waiting as he turned around. He jogged up the steps and pushed back into Pawel's Bar, slipping between two burly bulls and retrieving his hat from where he'd discarded it on the bar. As he was stepping outside he bumped into someone tall, stepping back and nearly tripping. He would have fell, had the large figure not grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

     “Woah there lad." The giant grey wolf said huskily, eyeing him. “You right there boy?" Fletcher stared up at him, swallowing as he noticed one of the wolf's ears had chunks of it missing, the wound line erratically sawtooth.

     Bitten off? Small towns were full of rough living types, and he tried not to stare – the last thing he needed now was to get in a brawl.

     “I'm…I'm good yes thank you." Fletcher affirmed, fitting his hat on. “Sorry." He mumbled, pushing by and heading back out into the night air.

     “Much better, Jonah." Narem said as he approached, clapping him on the back. “You have an alias then?" They began walking down the main street, heading in the vague direction of the circus.

     “I'll…explain later, if that's okay." Fletcher said slowly. Was he drunk?

     “That is fine." Nobu said. As they broke away from the main section of the small city, Fletcher realised the lights he spotted in the distance was indeed the Midnight Meridian walk-in. Big fires and spotlights shone into the sky, the sound of cymbals and trumpets and crowds all competing for dominance.

     Low-key. Right. He thought dryly.

     “They are going steadily; we best keep out of the way lest we embarrass someone." Narem said soberly. “Fletcher, Jonah…you shoot no? How come we have not seen this yet? We are good friends?" Fletcher considered, but his mind was fuzzy and getting worse by the minute.

     “Er, we've been on the road. That's all. And-and we just met"

     “Will you show us now then?" Nobu asked.

     “Yes, show us! At least show us the rifle!" Narem exclaimed, shaking him slightly. Fletcher paused.

     “I don't know if that's a good idea right now. Anyway, the show is going." He gestured to the lights. The twins began steering him around the side, away from the entrance.

     “Our camp is back here though." Nobu said. “You could shoot a target that's not moving easily enough! The noise from their walk-in is loud enough to cover it, nobody will be cross."

     “I guess." Fletcher said, as they stumbled around the campfire closest to his tent. “Uh…I don't have any targets though." He said, retrieving the rifle from his things and sliding in a clip. He had expected to fumble with the weapon, but it felt surprisingly easy and smooth to do – he must not be as drunk as he thought.

     “We can use these!" Narem said, picking up four empty beer bottles – leftovers from what Thume had been drinking earlier.  “Come, come." He insisted, dragging Fletcher along. Before the coyote could disagree they were a hundred metres from the circus proper and nestled into a small outcropping of trees.

     “Careful, careful." Nobu said to himself, propping up the empty bottle in a forked tree-branch. “There!" He danced back, the two of them getting behind Fletcher. This wasn't so bad he realised, feeling himself sober up a bit. He'd only had a few, and that was spread over most of the evening. It wasn't difficult to hold the gun, and cocking it was a single smooth motion.

     “Oh!" Narem exclaimed, watching the mechanism click.

     “Ready?" Fletcher asked, and the two nodded. He pulled the stock into his should and squeezed the trigger, the rifle kicking with a short whip-crack, the bottle exploding into tiny pieces. The twins both jumped, yelping slightly and then giggling madly.

     “Amazing!" Nobu said, clapping enthusiastically. Narem jumped forward, holding a bottle by the neck and acting as if he were going to throw it into the air.

     “How about this then?" He asked. Fletcher felt good, they were impressed and he'd done so little. Everyone had been so nice, and it felt…good, to be part of a group like that, even if Thume didn't want to admit it.

Maybe he was just jealous that Fletcher was hanging out with other people, instead of relying on him?

     “Yes, throw!" Fletcher cried. Narem tossed the bottle up and he popped it, tiny glass fragments raining down as he racked the bolt.

     “Outstanding! Who trained you to shoot like that?" Nobu asked, grabbing Fletcher's waist from behind. The coyote shrugged.

     “Er, I guess Thume did. But I always took naturally to it."

     “Yes, yes amazing!" Narem agreed. “Fletcher, Fletcher now this!" And he picked up another beer bottle, scurrying back and balancing it on his head.

     “Oh, I don't know…" Fletcher started, but Nobu cut him off.

     “No, it will be good. You haven't missed once! Imagine if we did this in the show? Wouldn't that be amazing!? Miss Meridian will be so impressed if we come to her with a routine already put together!" Fletcher bit his lip. Meridian had said he might do something with the twins…and his aim was good, he felt confident about that. He nodded once, cocking the rifle and raising it.

     “Hold still Narem!" He called, steadying his breathing. He closed one eye, imagining a crowd watching him, cheering. This would be fun; this would be great, they would love him, he could be some kind of--

     The weapon was suddenly torn painfully from his paws, cutting off his thoughts and causing him to stumble back. He yelped, looking around to see Lyric glaring at him.

     He held his throbbing fingers, hissing at the pain. “Hey!" He demanded, and the jackal just slapped him across the face.

     “You fucking idiot." Lyric growled. “The hell is wrong with you boy? Trying to kill someone?"

     “He's a very--" Narem started, but Lyric cut him off again.

     “Shut it you two." His voice was so low and gravelly, it was terrifying. He narrowed his eyes at Fletcher, poking him in the chest. “You understand weapons; you should know far better than to pull something like that."

     “I've--" He tried, to no avail.

     “You're drunk. I thought you had to run from your father? Is this your idea of escaping persecution Fletch, getting drunk with these two brats? Or are you really just some rich tenderfoot who wanted to have an adventure, so he made up a cute sob story?" His lips peeled back with a slight growl. “This isn't a game! Why are you playing?" Then he turned on his heel and marched off, taking the rifle with him.

     The three of them stood in silence, stunned in place as he left. In the distance, the circus lit up as fireworks exploded in the sky, all to the sound of thunderous applause.

     “He's been in such a foul mood lately." Nobu said, spitting.

     Fletcher blinked, feeling tears in his eyes, shame burning his face. He knew Lyric was right; that had been stupid and he knew better.

    “I'm sorry." He whispered.