THE WEST ROAD

  Drak sped down the dusty dirt path leading away from Tribute, the hum of his steam-bike beneath him as buzzing as his excitement. His mission had been a surprising success. Not only did he have the control collar and the registration permit in hand, but he had also secured his uncle’s unexpected support. With those items now in his possession, the next steps of their journey seemed less daunting.

  He let out a breath of relief as he weaved through the winding roads that cut through the countryside. The late autumn breeze tousled his hair, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and harvested crops as he took a turn onto the West Road. He couldn’t help but feel a thrill of exhilaration as he thought about what this newfound freedom meant for both him and Nalli. They no longer had to worry about sneaking around or hiding her away in the barn like some fugitive. She could walk freely, stretch her legs, and breathe the open air without the constant fear of being discovered.

  Drak’s mind raced with the possibilities. They had all the freedom in the world now. Freedom to plan their next move and figure out how to safely traverse through human territory. His chest swelled with pride, knowing he had achieved more than he thought possible in such a short span of time. He had even managed to finish all his errands in Tribute earlier than expected, which gave him hours to spend with Nalli this evening. A new sense of personal control washed over him. Maybe, just maybe, he was cut out for more than just vineyard work after all.

  He smiled at the thought of Nalli’s reaction when he returned with the collar and permit. Sure, she wouldn’t be thrilled about the collar, no direhound like her would, but it was their ticket to safety, and that counted for something. Drak could already picture her stepping out of the barn, her massive presence towering over him as she moved with newfound freedom.

  As Drak rounded the next turn, the hedges lining the road grew taller, thick and full of color changing leaves. He leaned into the curve in the road, the steam-bike gliding beneath him as it rumbled over packed dirt and rock. Here, the road began to slope upward into a steady incline that led to a crest just ahead. Though, as he approached the top of the hill, something caught his eye. At first, it was nothing more than a vague shape in the distance. He squinted, trying to make out what it was.

  It became clearer as he got closer. A wooden cart, old and worn, sat in the middle of the road. A man stood behind it, hunched over and struggling to hold it in place as the cart threatened to roll backward down the slope. There was no horse or steam-powered mechanism in sight, only the man’s frail form bracing himself against the heavy load.

  The sight seemed unusual to Drak, although not entirely out of place in the worn countryside. As he neared, the man turned his head slightly, revealing the edge of his nose beneath a worn hooded cloak. His clothes were ragged and stained, his shoes scuffed and worn down. There was a tiredness in his posture, a kind of desperation in the way he waved one arm toward Drak, beckoning him over for help.

  Drak instinctively slowed the steam-bike to a stop, curiosity piquing his caution. The man’s voice cracked as he spoke, his tone strained as he explained his predicament.

  “Help me... please,” the man rasped, his breath labored. “My mule broke free just as we reached the top of the hill. She got spooked and ran off down the road. I tried to stop the cart from rolling... but I don’t have the strength to keep it steady on my own.” His voice wavered as he continued, his muddy hands gripping the rear of the cart to keep it from rolling back over him.

  Drak’s eyes traveled over the man’s figure, from his ruddy, patched clothes, to the pronounced arch in his back, and the grime that clung to him like a second skin. He appeared old and worn down from years of labor, his hands calloused as they fought to hold the weight of the cart.

  The sight tugged at Drak’s sense of neighborly duty, but something in the back of his mind nagged at him. Why hadn’t he simply gone to recover his mule first? he considered. He thought about the situation from the man’s perspective, and maybe the concept simply hadn’t come to mind the moment the tethers failed. He had helped others in similar predicaments for far less, and even as doubt flickered in his mind, Drak found himself dismounting the steam-bike.

  “You need a hand with that?” Drak asked, approaching the man cautiously. He kept his voice calm, doing his best to sound helpful.

  The man nodded frantically, relief washing over his features as he gestured toward the rear of the cart. “Yes, yes... if you could just hold it steady while I try to lock the wheel in place, I’d be mighty grateful.” His words came quickly as desperation filled his voice.

  Drak stepped forward, being sure to take a glance at the contents of the cart to be safe. He found nothing of concern, just a heap of fresh-picked vegetables. Drak sighed with relief as his hand reached out to grab hold of the cart.

  The man hurriedly muttered his thanks, keeping his head down, as Drak moved to grab the rear of the cart. Something about the man’s mannerisms struck Drak as quirky. He never let Drak catch a good glimpse of his face, and kept shuffling his hooded head around ham-handedly while muttering about his runaway mule.

  Drak positioned himself at the back of the cart, getting a firm grip on the wooden frame. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get back on the road, he brooded. His limbs locked, bracing for the heavy push he knew was coming. The man sidled up beside him, and began rattling off instructions, his voice fast and jittery.

  “On three,” the man said, his back still to Drak. “We’ll give it a good shove. Should get her set right quick. One... two...”

  Drak nodded and planted his feet, tightening his grip as they counted together. The wood felt rough against his palms, but he prepared himself for the task, letting his muscles tense in anticipation.

  “Three!”

  With a grunt, Drak pushed with his full might. The cart’s heavy weight pushed back against him, and despite his best effort, it barely moved. He felt the heat rush to his face as he strained against it harder, but the cart persisted, resisting against the incline. He only managed to move it an inch before his strength failed him and the cart shifted back into place.

  Something felt wrong.

  Wood carts are heavy, sure, but a load of vegetables shouldn’t feel like moving a boulder, Drak thought. Frowning, he glanced over to the old man, expecting to see him straining alongside. Instead, he found the space next to him empty. The man was gone.

  The wheel, Drak realized as he glanced down to inspect the issue, had already been blocked. A wooden wedge jammed between the spokes and the carriage, preventing it from rolling all along. The old man had positioned himself perfectly so Drak couldn’t see it before. The shock hit him like a splash of cold water.

  His stomach twisted, and the uneasy feeling from before manifested into a dreadful realization. The rumors of the highway robbers that the country folk outside of Tribute’s gates had gossiped about the day before came rushing back to his mind. He had been too concerned about Nalli’s predicament at the time to give it much thought. Now, standing on the lonely road, he realized his mistake.

  Before he could react, Drak heard the rustling of leaves from the nearby hedges, and rough, calloused arms clamped down on him from behind, yanking him away from the cart with a force that sent him stumbling. Drak’s heart raced, and he thrashed instinctively, trying to break free, but whoever had him was strong. Too strong.

  “Hey! Let go!” Drak managed to choke out, but his words were cut short as a swift, brutal punch was landed square in his gut by the abrupt reappearance of the hooded man. The blow sent a sharp, searing pain through his abdomen, knocking the wind from his lungs in an instant.

  Drak gasped, doubling over in pain, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. He tried to twist free, but his body wouldn’t cooperate, still reeling from the blow. At the same time, the grip around him tightened, and he knew he was outmatched.

  The brute behind Drak tightened his grip, muscles like iron bands trapping Drak in place. “I've got him, Riz,” the man growled, his voice deep and absurdly stupid sounding. “He’s got a lot of fight in him.” Drak thrashed in vain, his arms pinned as he struggled to free himself, but his captor's strength was overwhelming.

  The hooded man, now known as Riz, casually walked back toward them, finally lowering his hood to reveal a sharp, angular face with a crooked grin. His beady eyes gleamed with criminal intent as he loomed over Drak, appraising him like he was some sort of gold trinket.

  Drak barely had time to brace himself before Riz swung his fist again. The blow connected with Drak’s face, a harsh crack resounding in his head as his lip was split open. Pain exploded in his jaw, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His head reeled from the hit, and his vision blurred as he stumbled against the brute's hold.

  “Stop fighting, kid,” Riz laughed, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “You’re not getting out of this one. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

  Drak’s thoughts were in a spiral, disoriented from the blow and the shock of what was happening. His mind raced back to Nalli, panic surging through him like a wildfire. The registration papers, the control collar, everything he had worked so hard for felt like it was suddenly slipping through his fingers. He couldn't lose everything now, not after coming so far. He tried to plead, his voice strained. “Please... just let me go... I—I need to get back—”

  Riz cut him off with a sneer, clearly amused by the desperation in Drak's voice. “You think we care about where you're headed, huh? Shut up and give me your coin, farm boy.” His eyes narrowed on Drak’s waistline, noticing the slight bump where Drak’s coin purse hung. To them, Drak was just another country kid with a bit of extra cash.

  Meanwhile, the brute holding Drak chuckled, giving Drak a rough shake to remind him who was in control. “Good idea with the old man disguise,” he said to Riz, nodding approvingly as Riz unfolded a large bundle of ragged clothes from beneath his back, tossing them carelessly into the cart. The illusion of frailty was gone, replaced with the cruel satisfaction of a practiced crook who had successfully trapped his victim.

  A third figure emerged from the rustling hedges, lanky and wiry-haired compared to the others. The scrawnier man swaggered over to Drak’s steam-bike, running his fingers along the handlebars with an appreciative grin. “Nice ride,” he said, his voice nasally and thin. “Should fetch a price in the market, Riz. Be a shame to let it go to waste.”

  Drak’s heart sank further. They were going to take his bike, and his coin. Helplessness gnawed at him, real anger took root where fear should have been. His fists clenched despite the pain coursing through his face and abdomen. He couldn’t let this happen, but with his limbs locked in place and the odds stacked against him, the hope of fighting back seemed faint.

  Riz wasted no time. With a rough yank, he ripped Drak’s coin pouch from his waist, the clinking of coins audible as the pouch fell into his grip. He weighed it in his palm, his lips curling into a sneer. “That’s it?” he scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

  Drak gritted his teeth, his pulse hammering. He could feel the brute’s grip tightening around his arms, holding him in place like a vice, but Riz wasn’t done. “What else ya got?” Riz said with a grunt. He yanked open Drak’s coat, his hands rifling through the inner pockets in search of something more valuable.

  Then he froze.

  His fingers brushed against the subtle bulge of folded parchment tucked securely inside. His brows lifted with a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “Hello, hello, what’s this?” he muttered, peeling the permit out just enough to catch a glimpse of the document’s official seal.

  Drak’s stomach dropped. The permit. Nalli’s permit. The one thing that he had struggled so hard and risked everything for.

  His jaw clenched. He couldn’t let Riz take it.

  Desperation surged through Drak's veins, burning hotter than fear. His heart pounded, and a last-ditch plan flickered to life in his mind. Before Riz could remove the permit, he glanced down and noticed that the wooden peg holding the cart in place was still within reach of his foot. His muscles tensed as he fought through the brute’s crushing grip, and with a surge of determination, he swung his leg with all the strength he could muster.

  His foot collided with the peg. Pain shot up his leg as the force of the kick reverberated through his body, but the wooden block shifted and fell away from the wheel. With a creak, the cart gave way.

  Riz and the large thug realized too late what was happening. As the cart started to roll backward down the hill, panic flashed in their eyes. “No—!” The brute shouted as Riz dove to the side.

  Before Drak could react, the heavy cart picked up momentum, and he felt the brute’s arms tug him backward in a final attempt to haul him away. But the rolling cart was too fast. It slammed into both Drak and his captor with bone-jarring force, sending them sprawling to the ground. The weight of the cart pinned them momentarily, rolling over the top of them with a crash as it barreled down the road.

  Riz’s shout pierced the air. “Tuff, grab the cart!”

  The brute, Tuff, scrambled, trying to regain control, but the cart was already out of his grasp, careening wildly down the slope. It was all the distraction Drak needed.

  Gasping for breath and his body aching, Drak rolled to the side, just managing to slip free from Tuff's preoccupied reach. Pain flared in his ribs where the cart had hit him, but adrenaline spurred him into action. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the dizziness threatening to overtake him.

  Without wasting a moment, Drak charged toward the third thug who was still trying to make sense of what happened with the vegetable cart. Drak’s shoulder hit him with full force, sending the wiry man sprawling into the nearby thicket in a surprised heap.

  “Hey!” the man squealed, struggling to regain his footing, but Drak was already moving. He swung a leg over his steam-bike and gripped the handlebars with white-knuckled determination.

  The engine roared to life beneath him as the rejoiceful hum of the steam-bike filled his ears. Relief washed over him, but there was no time to savor it. As the bike shuddered while he gripped the throttle, Drak heard Riz’s furious voice cut through the chaos. “Shiv, you idiot! I told you to disable the bike!”

  Shiv scrambled, trying desperately to reach Drak, but his movements were clumsy and frantic, only managing to get his clothes caught up in the branches of the thicket. Drak, however, had already kicked the bike into gear, the wheels spinning against the dirt as he bolted forward. Just as he thought he was in the clear, Riz sprinted toward him, catching up faster than Drak had expected. With a furious growl, Riz lunged forward and grabbed hold of the steam-bike’s rear cargo bin, yanking it back to a dirt-kicking halt.

  Drak’s heart leapt into his throat. Desperation coursed through him as he groped for something, anything, that could help. His hand closed around the control collar strapped loosely to the handlebar of his bike, and without a second thought, he tore it free.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Using it like a makeshift flail, Drak swung the collar with all his might, the metal flying backwards through the air before it connected with Riz’s face in a sharp, brutal smack. The force of the blow was enough to send Riz reeling, his grip on the bike slipping as he staggered back, blood already trickling from a nasty gash across his cheek. Riz let out a strangled cry of pain, his body hitting the dirt hard as he clutched his face.

  Drak didn’t waste another second. He revved the engine, his grip firm on the handlebars now that Riz was no longer in the way. With a final glance at the band of thugs, with Riz sprawled out on the ground, Tuff struggling to recover the cart at the base of the slope, and Shiv still trying to yank himself free of the branches, Drak roared the bike into motion.

  The steam-bike shot forward, leaving Riz and his gang in the dust. Their angry yells and curses echoed behind him, growing fainter as Drak sped down the road.

  His heart pounded in his chest, the pain from the earlier blows throbbing in time with his pulse, but he was free, and as the wind rushed past him, Drak couldn't help but feel a surge of relief. For now, he was safe, and he put as much distance as he could between himself and the gang of thieves behind him.

  Drak rode hard, pushing the accelerator to the limits. The landscape blurred past him as his steam-bike tore through the winding roads. His heart still raced, adrenaline refusing to leave his system. Only once he was certain that Riz and his thugs were well behind him did he allow himself to ease off the throttle. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see them in pursuit, but there was no sign of them.

  They were probably still back there, licking their wounds and cursing his name.

  His breath came in gasps as the reality of what had just happened set in. He had been far too close to getting seriously hurt. His ribs ached where the cart had hit him, and his lip was throbbing painfully, a steady, bulbous trickle of blood running down his chin. Drak wiped at it with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his skin. The taste of iron lingered on his tongue.

  That could’ve gone a lot worse, he reflected to himself, the thought rang over the hum of the bike.

  He hadn’t lost too much, at least not in terms of money. His coin purse was gone, yanked from his waist by Riz’s greedy hands. Although, when he thought about it, there hadn’t been much in there except a handful of silver coins. In a way, Drak was grateful that he'd spent the bulk of his savings over the last couple days. The loss itself wasn’t crippling, but it wasn’t about the money. It was about the humiliation of it all, of being caught off guard so easily. His pride stung more than his swollen lip.

  Drak gritted his teeth, the frustration building inside him. Can’t let something like that happen again, he brooded. Not if Nalli’s going to be with me. The thought of her, still hiding back at the barn, agitated, and depending on him, only added to his determination. If something like this had happened while she was with him, things could’ve ended up a lot worse.

  He couldn’t afford to be careless. He couldn’t afford to be weak.

  His hand absentmindedly brushed against the old control collar that he had haphazardly thrown back onto the bike's handlebars after fleeing. The same control collar he’d used as an impromptu weapon against Riz. The memory of the collar smashing into the thug’s face made him grimace, but it had worked. Strange how the very thing designed to bind and control direhounds had ended up saving his skin.

  A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. Guess this old piece of junk is useful for more than just looking the part.

  His lip throbbed again, pulling him back to the present. The swelling was getting worse, and his jaw felt stiff every time he moved it. It wasn’t the worst injury he’d ever had, but it would be painful. Still, Drak couldn’t help but feel a small sense of triumph. He had managed to get away, and now he had both the control collar and the registration permit safely in his possession.

  The road ahead was long, and there was still so much to do. For now, Drak focused on one thing: getting back to Nalli. The sooner they regrouped and put this incident behind them, the better. He reignited his focus while speeding down the path, Riz and his gang now a distant memory behind him.

  ***

  Drak’s steam-bike sputtered as he turned onto the gravel path that led back to his parents' vineyard. The rhythmic chug of the engine somehow felt hollow against the throb in his lip and the aches that coursed through his body. The sun hung low in the sky, making him squint on the final approach. Apart from his injuries, he felt an instant sense of relief at being back. Home was where he wanted to be, and it was safe, for now.

  He revved the bike louder than usual as he passed the farmhouse, signaling his return to Nalli. As the barn came into view, Drak felt his pulse quicken, not from the pain in his side, but from anticipation. Would Nalli be alright? Had she been waiting in the barn, or had she taken advantage of his absence and kept her promise and departed on her own?

  He slowed the bike as he neared the large barn doors, catching sight of a faint glint high in the barn’s rafter window. There, peeking through it, were Nalli's eyes, glowing faintly in the dimming light, her reflective yellow gaze locked onto him. He saw a retreating shadow of motion in the window as she withdrew further into the barn. She was still there. She knew he was back.

  Drak cut the engine and swung himself off the bike, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through his body. He pushed the bike toward the barn, wincing as he felt the bruises left by Tuff's meaty hands and Riz’s blows. His lip was swollen like a melon, his face stiff and aching. As he pushed open the barn door, the warm orange glow of the setting sun spilled across the room through the door.

  The scent of raw meat hit him first, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw Nalli standing near an unrecognizable husk of pink. In what used to be the moose meat he had brought her, she was now holding a piece of bone in her clawed hand. She’d managed to gnaw down the remaining bone down to a sharp point, carving it into what appeared to be a makeshift knife. The gleam in her eyes made it seem like she had been idly sharpening it, her thoughts somewhere far away, but the moment she caught sight of him and saw the limp in his gait, his battered face, and the blood crusted on his chin, her entire demeanor changed.

  The bone-knife fell from her hand, clattering to the floor as she approached quickly, her concern written like an open tome across her angular features. “What happened?” she demanded, her voice low and tense. The urgency in her tone took Drak off guard as she strode toward him, her posture shifting from wary direhound to something much more protective.

  He staggered slightly as he propped the bike against the wall. “I’m fine,” he said, though his words came out weak and shaky. The barn spun slightly as he leaned against a wooden beam, but he forced a smile. "Just ran into some trouble on the road. Damned highway robbers—roughed me up a bit, but I’m okay.”

  Nalli's fur bristled visibly, her eyes narrowing as her sight swept over his injuries. The tension in her body grew, muscles rippling beneath her light gray coat. She wasn’t just concerned, she was furious. He could see it in the way her ears pinned back, and in the slow, deliberate way she bared her teeth into a snarl.

  “Where are they?” she demanded, her voice thick with anger. “Whoever hurt you... they should pay with blood.”

  Drak blinked, taken aback by the intensity of her reaction. He’d seen Nalli angry before, but this was different. She wasn’t angry for herself. She was angry for him. There was something deeply out of place about it, yet it also made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

  “I—Nalli, it’s fine,” he said again, softer this time, trying to keep his voice calm as he reached out to steady himself against the workbench. “They were just after my money. It wasn’t personal.”

  Her rage seemed to deepen, and she stepped closer, her towering form casting an immense shadow over him. “I don’t care if it wasn’t personal. They hurt you,” she snarled, clenching her fists, “and they need to suffer for that.”

  Drak couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at her protectiveness, but he quickly shook his head. “We can’t go after them. It’s not worth it. Besides, they're long gone by now.” He tried to sound convincing, but he could tell that Nalli wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Her eyes were still burning with anger, her breath coming out in slow, deep huffs as if she were holding herself back from bolting out of the barn and doing something drastic.

  A heavy silence hung between them for a moment, with the only sound being the distant metallic tick of Drak’s steam-bike’s engine cooling off. Finally, Nalli let out a slow exhale, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

  “I don’t like it,” she muttered, her voice still thick with frustration. “I should have been there.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Drak replied, stepping forward now, his body aching with every movement. He took a chance and placed a hand gently on her forearm, feeling the tension still simmering beneath her fur. “But I’m here now, and we’ve got what we need.”

  Nalli met his gaze, her anger simmering down to a level more manageable. Though, even as the rage ebbed, Drak could see something else in her eyes. Something that went beyond just concern for his safety.

  “Next time”" she growled softly, “I will be there.”

  Nalli knelt down in front of Drak, her towering body bending gracefully as she brought herself eye-level with him. The shift was so sudden and fluid that Drak found himself momentarily stunned by the proximity and gentleness in her gesture. Her amber eyes, usually sharp and fierce, eased as she looked over his bruised face.

  “Let me see it,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically tender. The tone felt foreign, completely at odds with the fiery anger she had shown just moments before.

  Drak’s first instinct was to look away, avoiding the intensity of her stare. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Beaten, and humiliated. However, the swelling on his lip and chin was impossible to hide. He could feel his face throbbing with each heartbeat, the wind-dried blood on his chin crusted over.

  Nalli's large, clawed hand moved closer, and for a split second, Drak tensed, but instead of the roughness he expected, she extended a single knuckle, furred and surprisingly soft. With a touch that was barely there, she brushed against the dried blood on his chin, careful not to hurt him further.

  The gesture was so delicate that it felt almost unreal. Drak closed his eyes for a moment, the soft fur of her touch sending an unexpected ease through him. It was as if the world outside, between the dangers, the highway robbers, and the fear, had faded.

  All that was left was a moment of quiet between them.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze once more. There was a vulnerability there now, not just in him, but in her too. A shared understanding, unspoken but heavy in the air.

  “I did,” Nalli replied, her voice firm but still soft. “You are my safe passage out of here, remember?”

  Drak stood there, completely taken aback. The tenderness in Nalli’s gesture was one thing, but hearing her words left him speechless. He wasn’t expecting this level of care, this... protectiveness. For the first time, it felt like she truly saw him, not just as a human who had stumbled into her life but as someone who might matter to her. The way her wolven, yellow eyes softened as they lingered on his bruises and the bloodstains on his shirt sent more of that unfamiliar warmth through him.

  Nalli’s eyes flicked over his injuries. Her demeanor showed her frustration and guilt in a way she couldn’t hide. He wasn’t sure what thoughts were running through her head, but it was clear something sudden had changed. Perhaps seeing him like this, as a human marked by a fight he hadn’t needed to pick, all to help her, had done more than gain her respect. It moved her. A creature like her, so used to fighting her own battles, now stood here, silently vowing to take responsibility for someone else. For him.

  Slowly, Drak nodded, feeling her words fall into place. “I... I need to go inside and clean myself up,” he said, his voice low, still processing the shift between them. He had gone from being her helper, to something more than that. An ally, maybe, or at least someone she was now willing to protect in return.

  Nalli’s eyes didn’t leave his, her expression serious and unwavering. "Good. But hurry up,” she said. Drak blinked, about to respond, but she wasn’t finished. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight anymore. No more running around like a fledgling pup,” she continued, the edge in her tone both commanding and deeply caring. “Tonight, human, you are sleeping in this den with me.”

  Drak’s mouth fell open slightly. Of all the things she could’ve said, that wasn’t on the list. His mind raced, trying to gauge whether she was being serious or not, but the look in her eyes told him everything. She was dead serious. After what had happened to him out there, she wasn’t about to let anything else come between them, or worse, harm him further.

  He nodded again, though slower this time, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Okay... yeah. I'll be back soon,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper.

  Nalli gave him a satisfied nod, her protective nature on full display now. Drak could feel a strange warmth inside him as he headed for the house. He never would’ve imagined that he’d find this kind of fidelity from a direhound. The thought of her watching over him, insisting he stay close… It was something new.

  Drak headed to his house and changed into clean clothes. In his quiet, empty house, he washed away the grime and blood as quickly as he could. He slipped into warmer attire and then grabbed an old bedroll from beneath the stairs.

  Nalli wants me to sleep in the barn tonight, he pondered.

  It was an odd request, but somehow, the idea didn’t bother him. In fact, he found himself almost excited. Honestly, if she could’ve fit through the entryway, I probably would’ve invited her to stay inside the house anyway… So, the barn doesn’t seem that strange at all.

  He still felt shaken from the attack earlier, the tail ends of the adrenaline dump from earlier still ebbing through his body. He couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability it had left him with. Having Nalli close by tonight felt oddly reassuring. On his way out, Drak caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror. The bruise on his face had already started to darken, and the shadows under his eyes made him look older than he was. He looked tired, worn down. The past few days had stretched him thin.

  With the bedroll tucked under his arm, Drak returned to the barn. Nalli hadn’t moved, but her bright eyes were locked on something else, the control collar hanging off the handlebar of his steam-bike.

  “So, that’s it?” she asked, her yellow eyes narrowing, ears flattening back against her canid head. A grimace twisted her features as she glared at the wretched device.

  Drak set the bedroll off to the side, leaving it untouched for now. He gave Nalli a tired nod, leaving the collar draped over his bike’s handlebars. “I got everything done today,” he said, his voice tired, still feeling the struggle of the day’s events. “I’ve got the registration card now. As long as you wear the collar, you can walk free outside the barn,” he saw her ears perk up, and he added just to drive the point home, “Erm—So long as I’m nearby.”

  Nalli’s tail flicked in agitation, her initial anger starting to bubble up again. The idea of wearing any human device felt like an insult. Then, when her eyes flicked back to Drak where she saw his slight limp, swollen lip, and the dark bruise forming along his jaw, she hesitated. He’d gone through a lot to make this happen for her, and he still hadn’t asked for anything in return. Her ears twitched in thought, resentment and reluctant gratitude battling inside her.

  Slowly, Nalli approached the collar, her large shape tense but curious. Drak stood back, giving her space. He wasn’t going to push her. This decision had to be hers.

  She lowered her nose to the device, sniffing at it cautiously before carefully picking it up between both of her clawed hands. The collar felt wrong in her grasp, cold and foreign. “Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She eyed Drak, searching for reassurance. The last thing she wanted was to be tricked into becoming a human's pet, even unintentionally.

  Drak, still holding his side from where the cart had bruised his ribs, limped toward her. “Here,” he said, reaching out gently for the collar. “Let me show you.”

  Without hesitation, he took the collar from her and wrapped it around his own body. “See?” He fastened it, demonstrating that it didn’t function on him. “It’s just an old prop for show now. It can’t hurt you without the remote.”

  His calm, almost casual demonstration seemed to ease some of the tension, though Nalli’s ears remained pinned back, her body still coiled with distrust; But, seeing Drak willingly put himself in her position stirred something inside her.

  Drak calmly removed the collar from his chest and held it out to Nalli once more. “You don’t have to wear it tonight if you’re not ready,” he said, his voice steady and composed.

  Nalli stared at the device a moment longer before grabbing it and turning it over in her hands. She glimpsed at her distorted reflection in the rectangular housing, the worn metal barely showing the flicking of her ears. For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes snapping between the collar and Drak. With a sigh, she made her decision. Giving him one last look, she carefully slid the collar over her head, her ears bolting upright as soon as the collar slid past them. It settled at the base of her fur-covered neck, fitting surprisingly well.

  Nalli preemptively held the device in both her claws, ready to jerk the device off at the slightest sign of trouble.

  Drak stood by in silence, watching as Nalli tensed. For a moment, it was as if time stood still, both of them waiting for something to happen. Nalli’s muscles remained rigid, her breath held, while she waited for any indication that putting the device on was a mistake. Except nothing happened. Just as Drak had promised, it was an old relic, an antique from a bygone era that could no longer hold any power.

  Slowly, she released her grip on the collar, her body relaxing as the tension of the moment faded away. Nalli’s golden eyes softened as she looked down at Drak. There was something different in her gaze now, a quiet acknowledgment. He had kept his word. Loyalty was everything to a direhound, and today Drak had shown he was worthy of it. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust him after all. Perhaps they could work together as partners, not just in name but in actuality.

  Drak finally broke the silence, the crack in his voice awkward but also genuine. “You look good. In the collar. I mean—it looks like you fit the part now.”

  Nalli let out a low, rumbling sound deep in her chest. It took Drak a moment to realize she was laughing. “Not another word, human,” she muttered, though her tone held no malice. She reached up and scratched at the fur beneath the collar, clearly not accustomed to the feeling of such a bulky device around her neck.

  As her direhound laughter died down, the connection growing between them felt like it had hit a different threshold.

  Nalli's eyes glimmered as she looked at Drak, a rare moment of genuine emotion crossing her features. She kneeled low, bowing her head to him. “Nakummek—Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of her gratitude, “For everything. Humans aren’t all bad, it seems.”

  Drak, feeling a lump in his throat, shook his head. “No—Thank you,” he replied, his voice cracking at the edges. Slowly, almost instinctively, he raised his hand, palm outstretched, hesitating just inches from her furred face. He’d touched her before, but would she allow him to touch her again? The moment felt right.

  Nalli’s yellow eyes studied him, flicking from his hand to his face, as if making a decision. Then, with deliberate slowness, she leaned her head forward, closing the distance and allowing him to make contact.

  Drak’s heart raced, pounding so hard he could feel it in his chest, the pain from earlier fading into obscurity. His hand pressed gently against the side of her muzzle, feeling the warmth of her fur beneath his fingers. Their eyes met, lingering on each other for what felt like an eternity.

  Nalli let out a soft, almost soothing hum, her way of reassuring him that his touch was permitted. The simple act spoke volumes, solidifying a fragile trust that had been growing between them.

  The moment hung there, heavy and delicate, until Nalli finally broke the silence. “I hope you’re not planning on sleeping anytime soon,” she said, her voice carrying a touch of her usual gruffness, but there was something playful beneath it. She motioned with the point of her nose toward the workbench, where the drawing of the saddle still lay, forgotten until now. “We have work to do.”

  She huffed, almost teasingly, as Drak pulled his hand away, the warmth of her fur still lingering on his palm. He nodded, feeling more certain than ever. “Yeah, we do,” he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips.

  There was no hesitation now. The next stage of their plan lay before them, and they would face it together as partners, bound not by force or circumstance, but by a trust that was beginning to feel real.

  Vine & Fang? Feel free to rate the story and follow the author for future updates!

  A

  AkKalajuks – Ants

  Anniasuitik – Shaman of Medicine

  Anirnaq – The First Direhounds

  Anirniq – Soul

  Anga – Yes

  Atsinguak – Gift

  Auka – No

  I

  Ijik – Eye(s)

  Ikialuit! – Damnit or damn you, depending on phrasing.

  Ilisimaik – Craziness

  Ipatsik – Understand

  Ipvit – You

  K

  Kaijuuti – Coyote Tribe

  Kakiannangituk – Unpleasant

  Kavinguak – Much noise

  Kulgoskarrik – A lizard, known for dropping its tail when frightened with a sudden loud burst

  Kutsutak – Yellow

  Kuviasotikak – Ridiculous

  M

  Mitappuk(s) – Joke(s)

  N

  Nakummek – Thank you

  Nalligik – Love(s)

  Nokel-katantik – Honorable

  Nuni Lunikk – Moon Mother

  Nunivak – Pick berries

  Nutaqq – Child

  O

  Omajualuk – Monster

  P

  Paunngak – Berries

  Pattangaititsik – Protecting

  Piujuk – Good

  Piunngituk Silatsuak – Bad Earth

  Pijagia-keh – Different

  Pilluak – Smart, clever, skillful

  Pitsatujuk – Powerful

  Q

  Qilakpaangut – sky-eyed wanderer who flies like a startled birdling

  Qimmit – Dog (or like a dog)

  S

  IkKumanngituk – Stupid

  Siku – Ice

  Siitani – Star cycles, or revolutions around the sun

  Sungittotanuk – A symbol

  T

  Tatannamek – Amazed / How Fascinating!

  Takutsuapuk – Kindness

  Tatsika Napattulik – The Darkened Forest

  Tillia-Kattak – Vermin (More than one meaning?)

  Tikatsiak – Strong twine

  U

  Ukalik – Hare

  Ukausik – Language of Direhounds

  Ukiuq – Winter

  Ullak – Morning

  Nalligik-Paunngak Kutsutak-Ijik (Nalli) – Love(s) Berries Yellow-Eyes

  Akkitu-kumik Taggana-Tak (Umbra) – Soft-Scratch Shadow-Side

  (Uvaguk or Uvak)-kaik sollu pitsiak. Pik sivo-ganik – (We or I) Come as kin. Do not fear.

  Sakkik sollu pitsiak! Ipvut napaq kunulik… Amarik! – Appear as kin! But stand with… enemy!

  Qamut qimmit! Pilluq! – Cowardly dogs! Move!

  Sunas pait mittsikappuk, atiq? – What is your real/true name?

  Nuti Nannguk Kunnak – Great Fault of Kunnak

  Takutsuapuk aje atsinguak – Kindness is a treasure

  Vine & Fang posted for free reading. Redistribution prohibited.