Muffled blows against bodies, sighs, screams, cracking of doors. Silence.

  Silence returned, but it was heavy. A weight on their chests that prevented them from speaking, from articulating a word, like the weight of an ocean crushing their lungs. Tamo, Manawan and Pastel exchanged brief glances. Pastel looked at Tamo. He saw his back arch. He could see the muscles contracting in his jaw. Tamo gritted his teeth when he was angry. He met Pastel's gaze, then turned his head toward the courtyard. Pastel felt his chest tighten further.

  “What if they knock on our door tomorrow, or the day after?” Manawan finally asked, freeing their breaths.

  “It'll happen sooner or later. That's why we have to move. Always move. But for now they think it's a grain warehouse and nothing else.” Tamo replied, sitting back down on the ground.

  “Don't they know there are foxes in the city? Isn't it dangerous for everyone else in the forest? It's hard to hide an entire people in exile,” said Manawan, still worried.

  “I don't think so. In any case, the lemurs would tell us soon enough if they felt we were a risk to their families.”

  “And all this is for what?” Pastel asked as he joined the others on the ground again. He leaned toward Tamo. “I mean, these guards entering people's homes, patrolling the streets? Is it to arrest brigands? Mercenaries? Rebels? They seem to be looking for something. Why go to all this trouble?”

  “To maintain control and power. To discourage any rebellious movement. And then they'll say they're fighting organized crime, like people not paying their taxes or stuff like that.”

  “And who says that?” Pastel asked again. Tamo shook his head. He seemed annoyed.

  “Why are you asking me that, you don't believe me? What do you think we do all day? We're gathering information, helping the lemurs with their trade, all the while trying to remain invisible and looking for opportunities to find resources for...”

  “I know, excuse me, Tamo it's just that it's all still so strange to me and I find it hard to believe that people in charge of so many lives are simply motivated by...”

  “Greed. Yes. Things are often a lot simpler than we like to think, Pastel.”

  Pastel thought back to the raven and what it had told him about the Thaumaturgist Guild representative. He thought back to what the innkeeper at the trading post had told him. He thought back to the glowing stone and cube, and realized that he hadn't told Tamo about it yet. Was he aware that, as he might have thought, the invaders' artifact was not simply a tool to check if someone had died?

  Pastel remained thoughtful for a moment. Manawan spoke again: “This arms dealer has agreed to sell us arrows, spears and other stuff. The plan, as I understand it, would be to start by attacking caravans in the jungle, selling the contents and using the profit to equip ourselves even more.”

  Tamo adds: “We thought about recruiting mercenaries, but that's something we can't do on a large scale. Too risky. No. The plan would be to use the money to convince the Guideans to support us in taking back the plains. Just enough to prove to them that we can fight and supply them with weapons... But then, when you arrived and we heard how they'd received you, it complicated things... but if we have enough support, we might be able to convince them.”

  “But if we alienate Ternoulie and their allies, how does that help us? We convince allies to support us but make enemies in the process?”

  “No, Pastel! Just listen! They'll never know it's us! Brigands and mercenaries have multiplied all over the jungle and are attacking everything. If we're discreet, there's no way they'll blame the foxes. Think about it! It's the only way Pastel!”

  Pastel sighed and frowned. “But... what if at least one lemur betrayed us? All it takes is one spy and then I've... I've been gathering information too and I've heard that these mercenaries, what they're after is mainly magical items and that behind all this there might be the Thaumaturgist guild, with whom the King of Ternoulie is collaborating and...”

  “Pastel, what are you talking about?”

  “The mercenaries steal magic items to sell back to the guild. All I'm saying is that something's going on. Something possibly related to the plains invasion that we don't really understand. So if we attack the wrong people, we'll alienate the guild and their allies. It's possible that they'll understand that these aren't normal brigand attacks. Maybe they'll see that the modus operandi is different.”

  “Did that raven, your new master, tell you that? Magical objects? Do you hear yourself?”

  “Tamo...” choked Pastel. He felt his friend's cynicism like steel blades in his chest.

  “Oh oh, my darlings! What happened outside shook us to the core, and hunger shakes our stomachs.” Interjected Manawan briskly, in a soft voice clasping one shoulder of each boy with her hands and shaking them gently as she spoke. “I don't like to see you like this. Come on, it's time to eat. I'm sure if we take the time to talk we'll be able to understand each other ok?”

  Tamo sighed and glanced obliquely at Pastel with a forced smile, then stood up. “You're right. I'm starving.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Pastel sat back and watched Tamo leave the room. He turned to his sister, who was looking at him gently.

  “He's tired,” she said simply.

  “Since when is he so... unpleasant?”

  Manawan approached her brother and laid her head on his folded legs. “Since he came back. I think the war damaged him.”

  Pastel felt a chill tighten in his throat. He clenched his teeth as tears welled up in his eyes. He stroked his sister's fur, who was looking at him with concern.

  “It's difficult right now, but I'm sure with a little time he'll get better.”

  “How? I don't see when he'll be able to rest. He's turned into a military strategist and pseudo rebel or something. As if he'd forgotten that just a year ago what he was most concerned about was what piece of wildebeest they were going to serve him at the seasonal banquet.”

  “Remember when he tried to swap his piece for the tender meat of an elder?”

  Pastel smiled softly. “They forced him to eat offal for months afterwards.” Pastel played absent-mindedly with his sister's ear, remembering how Tamo had finally grown disgusted with wildebeest offal and how he begged his father to forgive him.

  “Why are you scratching my ears? I'm the one trying to comfort you!” Manawan exclaimed, wiggling her ears to ward off her brother's hand. She stretched her hand toward his face to pretend to stroke his cheek.

  “No, don't! It comforts me to comfort you.”

  “I don't need comforting me I'm not a puppy.”

  “Hey!” exclaimed Pastel as his sister grabbed him and tried to pull him to the ground.

  They burst out laughing and Pastel helped Manawan up.

  “I'm glad you're here.”

  “I love you brother.” She hugged him with a strength that surprised Pastel. He could feel her heart pounding.

  ***

  Foxes, lemurs and allies were eating together in an upstairs room. Makeshift tables and chairs made from boxes and barrels had been assembled, but most of the people gathered seemed to prefer eating on the floor. Lemurs and foxes seemed to share this tradition. About thirty of them were gathered together, eating from bowls a stew that the lemurs seemed to have made a specialty of.

  “I haven't seen many lemurs in the city. A few at the market... or in the streets.” Pastel remarked between mouthfuls, chatting with a lemur eating near him.

  “Oh, you know, my friend, there's nothing to stop us moving into the city, but why should we? What for? To always have the king and his flies snooping around our stuff? To pay fortunes for a tiny corner of an earthen building where you wonder if you're in a giant oven? You know what I mean? And it reeks of death. I have to admit I can't understand why they'd destroy the jungle, where you can live comfortably in the trees, if they're just going to build stone towers. I mean... trees grow by themselves. No need to build trees, you know?” The lemur spoke with his mouth full, enthusiastically waving his spoon in the air to mimic the growth of a tree.

  Pastel nodded, glancing at Tamo, who was eating with others further on. He replied distractedly, “But not everyone is comfortable in trees like you lemurs.”

  “Oh, it's a matter of habit. Well, not everyone has feet like us, but you foxes were able to come with us, weren't you?”

  They continued chatting away. From time to time, a fox or another lemur would intervene. Pastel was reassured by the banter. He was happy to discuss trivial matters to force him to think about something other than the war and the tension between him and Tamo.

  He saw Tamo finish his bowl and leave the room, heading for the roof. Pastel took a deep breath and quickly swallowed the rest of his stew.

  “The fox was hungry, wasn't he?” exclaimed the friendly lemur.

  “Yes... eh, big day.” Pastel said with a forced smile, before standing up.

  Pastel climbed onto the roof where Tamo, alone, was watching the sun set. Pastel hesitated for a moment, then joined him. He searched for words in the shadows.

  “How can I tell him how much I miss him?” Pastel asked himself. Tamo's silence was questioning.

  “I missed you.” Pastel said simply. He took a deep breath and added: “I've dreamed of you. I thought of you, across the mountains, across the jungle. When I looked up at the clouds, when I got up every morning I wondered where you'd spent the night.”

  Pastel heard Tamo breathe in softly, then felt his gaze turn to him in the dark night. His hand sought his.

  “Pastel, look at me. I've missed you. I'm glad you're here.”

  Warmth and thrill rose to Pastel's cheeks. He felt the warmth of Tamo's body. “I don't like seeing you like this... I don't like seeing you suffer.” Pastel murmured.

  Pastel's cheeks flushed with warmth and a flicker of nervous joy. He felt Tamo's body heat. “I don't like seeing you like this... I don't like seeing you in pain.” Pastel murmured.

  Tamo pulled him against him. “I don't want to hurt you.” stammered Tamo, tightening his arms around Pastel. He sighed and admitted: “I understand that our plan is a bit of a gamble. It's risky, but it's our only hope. Pastel I'd go crazy if I didn't have something to hold on to. Something to hope for. I couldn't stand the doubts of the others, of some foxes who seem to have given up. It's unbearable. So when you seemed to doubt, you of all people, I... Their hearts beat in disorder, one against the other.

  “I'm not doubting you, Tamo. I'm just trying to understand. I'm scared too and... I want to understand because I'm tired of feeling useless. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

  Pastel nestled her muzzle in the fur of Tamo's neck. “Where it should always be,” Pastel thought.

  “I love you.” Pastel sighed, his throat tight. There were no crickets in the twilight over the city. Only a tepid breeze of distant voices and city life.

  "Hey, we're together now, right? It's okay." Said Tami.

  "We're together now but earlier... it's like sometimes you're here without being here. I don't recognize you sometimes." Tamo didn't reply.

  "Tamo, the plains are far away but the clan is here. I am here. Can you feel my body? Wherever our hearts beat the plains follow us."

  “I feel your heart.” Tamo slipped his muzzle into Pastel's fur. "I smell you. Always the same smell." Tamo murmured, stroking her back.

  "What I mean, Tamo is that I'm afraid of losing you again. I lost you physically once. I'm afraid this time of losing you... I don't know how to say it. That you'll get lost in this rebellion stuff..."

  “shhh...” Tamo interrupted him, kissing the corner of his muzzle.

  “I've found him again, for now,” Pastel thought, sighing with desire, tears in his eyes.

  “Can we sleep together tonight?” Pastel asked. “And all the following ones” he thought.

  " You want to sleep? I've got a better idea." Said Tamo, tightening his embrace.

  "I've got sacred ointment on my wounds now. I'm not contagious anymore."

  " Amazing, sacred you say? Wow, so lucky!" Tamo joked. Pastel burst out laughing and clicked his tongue. "Don't laugh, I can tell the difference! You should be happy."

  “I'm very happy.” Tamo slipped his hand under Pastel's tunic. The latter's breath became choppy.

  “I miss your fur!"

  The sun had set. They had barely noticed the lights of the last hours of the day. The shades of pink and orange were less striking than the lights swirling in their chests. Less striking than the vertigo of finally finding themselves. Really finding each other.

  Two silhouettes in the shadows of the night. Two silhouettes collapsing on the ground, on the carpet of the roof, and becoming a single, tangled shadow and sigh.