[Part Three: Ouroboros]

19: Hold Me Close

Lyric leaned back against the rearmost wheel of the buggy, unlit cigarette held loosely between his lips. He patted his pockets down for matches, again cursing the Vellem guards.

“Here, try not t'move." A gruff voice said. His eyes flicked up and saw Thume kneeling, the cream coloured fur of his hands shielding a lit match from the wind. Lyric relaxed, letting the ornery goat light him. He inhaled, pulling his eyelids shut and then sighing deeply. He hurt. His abdomen had stopped bleeding a while back, but the bottom of his shirt, and the waistband of his pants were both soaked, bits of red flaking off as the blood dried. His head throbbed, a constant painful drumming right behind his eyeballs. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his throat tasted of vinegar and fire. His eyes were still leaking the occasional tear, fuzzing his vision, furious yellow sclera hissing with pain. Every few seconds he would cough up phlegm, his body desperately trying to expunge whatever the hell Fletcher had blown up back in the Vellem square. He also simultaneously had too much saliva in his mouth, and not nearly enough. He was parched, tired, bruised, battered.

But he was alive.

“Thanks." He croaked, running his tongue along his teeth. He'd hoped the tobacco would override the peppery sizzle in his mouth, but so far it had only added another layer of flavour. Thume remained standing next to him, arms crossed, watching the others in their huddle. Lyric had been drifting in and out of sleep during the methodical rocking of the drive, but he'd woken right up as Thume had brought the six-wheeler to a sliding halt, ordering everyone out. Lyric knew they were headed towards the circus, the idea being to meet up before they all hit Firebrand, and he supposed Nadine would make her own way there. Taking the buggy the whole journey would be insane though; a machine with wheels that large left huge tracks, especially in the marshy soil of the Kallinger border, it would be no problem at all for Baron Vellem's men to chase them down if they stuck with the vehicle, only a matter of time.

“Wasn't my idea to come save ya, y'know." Thume grumbled, shifting on his feet. Lyric snorted, cracking his neck. He'd imagined as much. “All him, pushed for it, damn fool boy." He gestured at the group, but Lyric didn't need any further clarification of who Thume meant.

“Why did..." He stopped, coughing into a paw. “Why did you follow us in the first place?"

“Dope saw it in a dream. Said you was in deep shit." Lyric glanced up at him, an eyebrow raised. He got the sense Thume was leaving something out, but decided not to push it. “What?" The goat asked, as he frowned up at him.

“You..." Pause to cough and sneeze, wipe the bloody snot away on a sleeve. “You followed us on one of Dope's dreams?"

The goat spat the side. “He said some other stuff too, 'bout me. Stuff he ain't got no right way'a knowing."

“The Children of Nihil? That Death Cult workin' outta Blood Mesa?" Lyric asked. He was too tired to be coy.

“You know who's in charge of that lot boy?" Thume's body tightened, fists curling.

“Some killer by the name'a Drast."

“Oracen Drast." Lyric lurched suddenly, cigarette falling into the mud as he was again racked with a series of vicious coughs and splutters. After hacking his guts out, he righted himself, stretching a paw up to Thume.

“Get me up, old bastard." He spat. “Sick'a my ass being wet." The goat took his paw and yanked him to his feet, steadying him. He leant a shoulder against the buggy, sighing, sucking in the crisp night air. “What do you know about Oracen Drast, Thume?"

An idea had been forming in Lyric's head for some time now. Ostensibly, Beau Riddon was a member of the Sultan's Curse; nomadic gang of outlaws, and the only tribe that moved the lethally addictive drug Sleep. That put Beau under the auspice of Isaiah Meran, the leader of the Sultan's Curse, an old black goat with a grudge against authority. But Sleep came from the cult, somehow the Children of Nihil had managed to retain synthesizing exclusivity, and while others had made imitations, nothing came close to the real deal. An intermediary was required, someone to go between the two factions. That lion kid Lyric had been trying to get to, he was proof enough that the cult was involved with some sick shit. Kidnapping, torture, ritual murder. It only made sense to have a demon like Riddon be the go-between.

And wouldn't it make even more sense, if Oracen Drast and Beau had a little arrangement of their own. Wouldn't it make perfect sense even, if Oracen was selling victims he didn't need for his sacrifices, offering them up to Riddon in exchange for some brand of loyalty? The rings made Lyric's head hurt, even in the abstract everyone was playing each other, hypotheticals upon hypotheticals.

And if I'm to kill Riddon, can't rightly leave a creature like Drast walking. He took sacrificial murder and industrialised it.

“You goin' after him Lyric?" Thume's voice was dead serious, and it made the jackal shake a little.

“Don't rightly know yet." At that moment, the others decided to end their huddle and make their way back over to the two.

“We'll talk later kid." Thume replied, turning to Fletcher and Nadine. “So?" He asked. The two shrugged.

“Go our separate ways I reckon." Nadine said, rolling her shoulder. “I got some contacts in Firebrand who owe me, should be just enough to get me hiked over to Trident."

“Is there anywhere where people don't owe you?" Ursula asked tartly, giving Fletcher a look. Nadine shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Most places west'a Gaerus, cheesehead. Place is a damn bottleneck I never cracked." She shook her head. “But, I'll get some alpaca shmucks to boot me over the Firespine, kick it around Callisto for a while and twiddle my thumbs." Fletcher nodded.

“I hope you make it." He said. “Thank you, again."

“You got me outta Vellem." She paused. “Though, 's a bit louder than I'd imagined." The two laughed, while Thume gave Lyric a concerned look. The jackal squirmed in his boots, he felt awkward. He'd shot Nadine's lieutenant point-blank, metaphorically stabbed her in the back, then literally dragged her out of a burning building only to interrogate her and then leave her for dead. Now they were all supposed to laugh about it? All buddy-buddy, good pals on a holy crusade? “One other thing..." The wolverine said, glancing at Lyric with hooded eyes.

“Really?" Fletcher asked.

“Deal's a deal." Nadine replied.

“What?" Lyric asked, and before he could react Nadine had stepped forward and punched him square in the face. Her fist connected with the end of his muzzle, and his head snapped back painfully, knees crumpling. He fell into the mud, and as he was picking himself up the wolverine punched him across the face again. He collapsed with a cry, shaking, too weak and hurt to do anything but shield his head.

He waited for the next attack, but it didn't come. He looked up, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

“Nice knowin' ya Haldrick. Or Lyric. Or whoever the fuck you are." Nadine said, her whole demeanour shifted. “I saved your ass, but I ever see you again? I'll kill you."

What the fuck? Lyric thought, as Thume helped him back to his feet. He wiped at his muzzle, paw coming away bloody.

“You can try." He coughed, stumbling back against the buggy. Fletcher stepped between them then, paws raised at the near-frothing wolverine, who looked almost pissed enough to take another shot.

“Enough. Fair's fair, but anymore n'you'll kill him." Nadine raised her lip, massaging her knuckles.

“Fine, fine. I'm cool." She said, chuckling. There was a terse silence, quickly broken by a pressurised popping sound. They all looked to the front of the buggy, where Ursula had stabbed a huge knife through the thick rubber wheel. It farted out stale air, the chassis sagging forwards even as she repeated the process five more times.

“Think it's worth torching?" She asked them, once all the wheels had holes in them. “Anything that pisses off Baron tricorn-von-fuck can't be too bad." Fletcher snorted, looking away. A feeling of disquiet built in Lyric's stomach.

First Fulbright, now Vellem. We're quickly building a list of powerful enemies. Not to mention Drast, Isaiah, and Riddon. He thought, wondering what exactly Fletcher's father was doing now. He'll never stop. It's a matter of pride. He looked to Nadine again, touching his bruised snout.

“It'll just draw more attention." Dopesmoker said, laying a matted paw on the sergal's shoulder. “Just... calm yourself. It's over, Ursula." The girl inhaled deeply, exhaled, then reluctantly gave the fortune teller the knife. “Alright then." He said, patting her.

“We should start moving." Thume said. “I want to catch up with Meridian, ideally before they wake up tomorrow."

“You right t'move on yer own?" Fletcher asked, coming to Lyric's side. The jackal nodded, steadying himself woozily.

“Be good, I'll jus' walk it off." He tried for a smile, but with the swollen state of his face it was probably more of a ghoulish grimace.

“See you lot later then I guess." Nadine said, glancing away.

“You could come with us." Fletcher said suddenly. Lyric wanted to slap him. “No reason why not."

“Boy." He hissed, Thume echoing the sentiment with his eyes. Fletcher ignored them.

Thankfully, Nadine laughed. “Yer funny kid, but I ain't no performing monkey. Enjoy your popcorn, but I'm getting' the fuck outta dodge." She leaned closer to the coyote, jaw tightening. “If you knew what was good for you, you'd steer clear too, and get as far away from here as possible. You don't know what's comin'."

“We'll manage." Fletcher said tersely.

“I'm going." Thume said, turning about-face. “See you round Nadine, hopefully never." And he started walking off.

“You too, cranky-old-fuckin'-bastard!" She called back. Ursula and Dope said a quick goodbye, and followed after the goat.

“Thank you." Fletcher said again. “You didn't have to help us."

“I did not." Nadine replied. “Now both'a yous get out of my face, 'fore I change me mind 'bout him." Lyric took Fletcher by the elbow, pulling him away. They left Nadine there in the dark.

The coyote and the jackal walked a little behind the others, moving at a slower pace. Every few metres, Lyric would reach out and take Fletcher's arm for stability, sometimes as an act of comfort, and sometimes using him as an actual crutch. They didn't talk for the first hour, just content to keep on keeping on. Lyric felt good about things, emotionally. There was definitely love between them, but he was starting to suspect it was something closer to what siblings might feel for one another. Fletcher reminded him of his little brother, and it had taken him this long to realise it.

No wonder I got so pissed when he played the idiot. He thought, remembering his outburst when the fool had decided to drunkenly show of his rifle to the twins. No wonder he'd kept Fletcher at such arms-length, when the boy was clearly both capable, and willing in a fight. He closed his eyes a moment, picturing Sammen at fourteen. The jackal had been a bit pudgy, but Rathton was a cold town, so the extra fur and puppy fat helped him keep warm. Lyric opened his stinging eyes again, found them wet.

“You did well Fletch." He said, watching his feet. “It was fuckin' stupid, but nobody got hurt." 'Cept me.

“I couldn't leave you." Fletcher replied, after a minute. “I owe you." Lyric laughed, his mind swimming back to Fulbright. A younger, less confident Fletcher following Meridian, begging her to let him join her circus, saying how he liked boys the way most liked girls, how his father would hate him for it, how he was being sold for trade-rights.

Is that what you would have said back in Whitewall? That's all Lyric asked her. Thanks to that, Meridian had given Fletcher a chance, taking him on board. Seemed a lifetime ago. There was Patrick's gang too, the bounty hunters chasing down Baron Fulbright's now-expired contract. The ones Lyric had killed.

“Well we're even now." He said aloud.

“Beau Riddon is still out there. And this cult." Fletcher said quietly. Lyric sighed.

“You don't..."

“Without me you'll die, it's pretty clear."

“The circus," Lyric tried again.

“Will be fine." Fletcher gestured at Thume. “He knows something, and maybe Dope does too. Thume is pretty old, and he's been with my father since I was only a pup. Which means..."

“That Oracen Drast, whoever he is, has been hurting people for a long time."

“Exactly." Fletcher said. “But you need to get better first."

“I'm a fast healer."

“Not that fast."

Lyric stopped, staring straight up at the sky. After a moment Fletcher did too, coming back. The others ahead hadn't noticed, and they continued on. The coyote waited, standing patiently, his head and ears almost looming a little over Lyric. The breeze picked at them, ruffling fur and tugging at their clothes.

“You're a good friend Fletcher." Lyric said finally, meeting the boy's eyes. “I am... sorry, if I've been unkind to you. Weren't my intent."

“It's okay."

“It ain't." Lyric said. “I had some clarity when I was being strung up." A finger played at his throat, feeling the rope burn and flattened fur, the last remnants of his closest brush with death to date. “That I've wasted your friendship, that I've been arrogant and stupid. I'm no better than anyone else, hell I'm prolly worse by all counts. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Sorry that this... couldn't be what you might have wanted." His paws danced awkwardly at his sides, wanting to slip in his pocket. He felt phantoms twinges in his rear, his tail was long gone, but still he had the urge to tuck that missing extremity between his legs. His ears even fell, all instinct telling him to pull away, to hide, to protect himself.

“I understand." The coyote said, after some time had passed.

“I'm just broken." Lyric said, tears suddenly in his eyes. “My whole life has just been violence and pain again and again and I gave that to you and I didn't mean... fuck." He shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “Old gods damn it, I been a fool."

Fletcher hugged him. One swift movement, arms wrapping around him, squeezing tight, his muzzle buried into Lyric's neck. He heard the coyote inhale deeply.

“It's alright Lyric." He said, paws warm on the jackal's back. After a half second of indecision, Lyric hugged back, his paws tightening around the coyote's waist. They pulled apart after some time, both blushing.

“We should catch up with the others." Lyric said, and the boy nodded.

...

Fletcher walked by himself now, paws in his pockets, tail swinging loosely. The shorter bundle of muscle and rage that was Lyric Tellurian was up ahead, his placement in their travel-pack upgraded to Dopesmoker status. Thume was also alone, but Fletcher felt it best to give the goat some space.

He felt okay about Lyric now. He wondered if he could love two people, wondered if it was allowed. He had strong feelings for both Lyric and Narem, but sifting through them was difficult. Was it family type love? Friendship love? Was it simply unadulterated canine lust? Or was it real love? He didn't know, and it was easier not to think about it. Instead he focused on the distance, maybe three or four klicks away now, the hazy warm halo of a camp made in the night. His eyes could just make out the silhouettes of wagons. It was late, but it was the Midnight Meridian troupe, hopefully most of them were asleep in their rucksacks – he didn't know if he could handle a big reunion right now.

“Hey cowboy." He looked to his side and found Ursula, her long tail trailing after her, slender paws on long arms playing with something. It was small and metallic, catching what little starlight there was on its vertices. “I picked this up as we were heading out of Vellem." She passed him her treasure, and Fletcher turned it over in his paws. It was like a squarish kind of nail, a thin cube on the tip, with a spike sitting beneath it. A yellow light glowed on the top face, and he knew from experience it would click into green if it received the right magic message. It was the last of Nadine's gas bombs, the one that hadn't detonated back in the square. He still had the trigger too, tucked in his back pocket.

“I wonder why it didn't activate." He mused.

“We can ask Dope or Thume to take a look." She replied. “It could come in useful."

“Yeah, I s'pose you're right." He said lamely.

“I saw you talking with short, dark, and handsome." She continued. “Figured it was important, that you'd catch up soon enough."

“It was, I think."

“You guys good?"

“I... think so. We both know where we stand, for now." Fletcher said, stomach clenching. “Can I... what's Nobu like to be with? When you two are alone, I mean."

“Are you asking if he's good in bed?" Ursula laughed. “Trying to decide which of them will do better?" Fletcher went instantly red, looking away. The sergal clapped him on the back. “Relax."

“Not what I meant." He squeaked. “I meant..."

“Yeah, I know." She sighed. “I don't know. After Beguile, I was desperate, having anyone give me that kind of attention felt good, y'know? I ain't so sure it were a good idea to get with Nobu. But, I don't think the boys are quite the same, not in the way most think anyway."

“They're twins, stands to reason they'd be similar." Fletcher added, but the sergal shrugged.

“So? I mean they are, similar I mean. They're both impulsive, sure, playful, bit rude... but Narem seems to think about people more. I don't know, maybe I'm just feeling a bit cluttered, but I was kinda glad when Meridian said Nobu couldn't come with us to fetch you two." She stretched her arms up, arching her back. “He's needy, but putting the brakes on is hard when we're always together, always working on circus stuff."

“I'm sorry. That seems awkward."

“Is what it is, Fletch." Ursula replied, a teasing grin taking over her muzzle. “Y'know. He uh, he told me their dicks are different though, Narem's is longer." She laughed as Fletcher went a deep red, practically glowing in the night air. His pants got a little tighter as he imagined the two comparing. “I'm sure Narem would be happy to show you, if you ask nicely." She nudged him, and Fletcher choked on the air, shaking his head. He wasn't sure if that ship had sailed, Narem hadn't been speaking to him before he and Lyric had left.

“Ursula!" He exclaimed breathlessly, completely flustered. Lyric glanced back at them, a queer look on his face.

“Just, take this advice." The sergal continued, more seriously. “From someone who's a bit stuck. Whatever you do, think it through, and be gentle to the other one. We're like a family, sure, but families have the worst kind of fights." Fletcher nodded.

Got that right.

They kept walking, and Fletcher imagined that their outlines would be almost completely invisible to anyone looking out from the camp. Despite this however, as they got closer a small group of late-night walkers came out to greet them.

Dopesmoker skulked off alone, after only a quick wave to Meridian. Thume was – to Fletcher's utter confusion – greeted with a giant running hug by Clementine, her burly tiger arms almost lifting the cranky goat clean off the ground. Nobu ran out to Ursula, and Fletcher felt an awkward pang as he saw them kiss again, the leopard hurriedly leading her off to their shared tent. Meridian came out to meet Fletcher and Lyric, her feathered arms crossed sternly, the background firelight pulsing in her dark eyes.

“You two." She said tightly. “You're bloody lucky to be alive, still not sure if I should finish whatever it is you started." She snapped, glancing at all the blood on Lyric's clothing.

“I know. Sorry ma'am." Lyric said, dipping his head forward. “I'll tell ya all about it when I get up on the morrow."

“Damn right you will, bloody fool mutt." She replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “Drag out my new act, plus three other good workers! I've got a new jester now Lyric, Thume's doing so well, I've half a mind to clean up the act and fire you."

“Tomorra, Rissa." He said, suddenly very pale, sagging in on himself. The tall raven came forward and hugged him, patting his back lightly. Fletcher saw the jackal give his weight over, leaning into her embrace.

“At least you're all alright. The rest is... just background noise. We'll talk in the morning, but I'm glad you're safe." She released him. “Now run your furry ass to bed, before I slap you there." Lyric nodded obediently, gave Fletcher a wave, then shuffled off to somewhere he could collapse.

Meridian rounded on Fletcher, her claws on hips, tsking. “You saw what happened, is he likely to die in the night you think?"

Fletcher laughed. “Probably not..." He said.

The raven clucked. “Well, I better wake Aloysius up and make him check on the idiot. I'm sure he'll be thrilled at having to put his favourite patient back together again." She paused. “You did well, Fletcher. Everyone is alive." She glanced at his outfit, and he realised he was still wearing his stage-coat. “Or rather, Kalico." He smirked.

“We stole the Baron's buggy, burned his house down, and poisoned like twenty people. This was after they arrested Lyric, tried to hang 'im." Meridian blinked, then looked away. exhaling.

“I should put a damn collar on him already, I keep saying it and not doing it." She mused. Fletcher nodded, and was about to make his way to where he hoped somebody had had the prescience to set up his tent, when Meridian touched his shoulder. “Before you go, I think somebody else would like a bit of a word." She gestured to the nearest wagon, where Narem stood uncomfortably, staring at his feet, paws clenched before himself like a naughty school child. Fletcher nodded.

“Goodnight, Miss Meridian."

“Goodnight Fletcher. Thank you for bringing my jester back." And with that she left, presumably to wake Aloysius.

The coyote approached the leopard, smiling as they met. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but this was a conversation that he didn't feel could wait.

“I am glad you are alright Fletcher." Narem said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Me too." Fletcher laughed.

“And I am sorry too." The cat went on. “I was childish, and acting out, because you liked Lyric more than me and... it was silly."

The hits just keep coming. Fletcher thought, wondering when people would stop apologising to him.

“It's okay, I think... I was a bit callous with your feelings." Narem bit his lip, eyes darting nervously.

“Are you and--" Before he could finish Fletcher had pushed right in, wrapping his arms tight around Narem's neck and holding on for dear life. “Oh." The leopard exclaimed, his own paws snaking behind Fletcher and running up his back. It felt good to be held like that, and tears threatened to break in the coyote's eyes.

“I'm just so tired." He breathed, Narem's smell, softer than Lyric - less sharp, less defined - filling his nose. “It was so hard." Narem smelt good.

“It's okay." Narem said, patting him, his tail curling around their legs. “I was very worried."

“Thank you Narem." Fletcher mumbled. “I do like you. I do... care for you, I mean. A lot." He didn't need to look to know the leopard was blushing fiercely. He slid his arms back, separating just enough so he could see the cat's face. Indeed, beneath his spotted yellow fur hot pink flares bloomed on his cheeks.

“I care for you too Fletcher." He licked his lips, looked away. “But I do not know if it is the same way--" Fletcher again cut him off, acting purely off instinct, pushing in and meeting his lips in a brief kiss. They parted, and Narem's paws were instinctively on his waist.

“Shut up." Fletcher said. “I'm... I don't want to be alone, but I'm so tired." It was the truth – he was afraid of what he'd find in his dreams. It was stupid and he knew it, but he was worried he might completely fall apart, his mind totally unravelling. He'd been running on adrenalin since Lyric was arrested, and his body could hardly stand it.

“Oh." Narem said, unsure.

“Will you come to my tent with me?" Fletcher asked suddenly, breathing through his mouth, heart racing fiercely. “Uh, assuming someone put it up."

“I did." Narem added, smiling softly. “And I would be glad of it." He leaned in and kissed Fletcher again, just lightly touching their lips together.

“This doesn't mean--" The coyote started, but Narem shook his head.

“We will go as we go, and see what we see. It's the wild south, we make our own rules." Fletcher nodded, smiling, his tail wagging behind him. It felt so good to be held, he never wanted those slender paws to let go of him.

“Well, I liked it." He said, laughing. Narem nodded and took his paw, leading the flustered coyote back to his tent.

Fletcher, still unsure of protocol, left his filthy boots and trousers outside the canvas structure, crawling inside and sliding into his woollen sleeping bag in nothing but his underwear and undershirt. Narem mimicked the actions, slipping his firmly toned legs into the bag, wrapping an arm around Fletcher's stomach, curling along his back. The leopard's paw slipped under the hem of his shirt, squeezing him around the belly.

Fletcher tried to breathe slow, tried to relax, enjoying the sensation of Narem's entire body pressed up against him. He tried to ignore the sharper point pressing into his ass cheek too, just a hint of excitement in Narem's body, barely anything compared to Fletcher's own hard-on, standing defiantly in his own boxers.

But they wouldn't do anything about their respective erections now, he knew that. It was too scary, and too soon.

Narem kissed him on the neck, nuzzling affectionately.

“It is good to hold you. Sleep well." He whispered. Fletcher exhaled, enjoying the tickling of Narem's paw tracing lines on his thigh.

“Thank you." He said, closing his eyes. “It's good for me too."