[Mkguild] Dragged around (2/2)

[Prof]

“The bite-incident. Oh yes, our merry little bender in Hiram’s store
room”, the boy snorts. “Tell you what; you’re absolutely no cute when you’re enraged
out of your mind. Work on that.”

 

I stop dead in mid-step. “Hiram’s?
How can he afford all that stuff?”

 

He shots me a funny look. “Aw, come on! You never realized he’s a
poacher? Why do you think he’s so often outside alone? He’s very good at what
he’s doing.”

 

“Good to know”, I muse. “We still have to pay for the wine.”

 

“No, we don’t, this bone is already picked”, Dustin declares. “I talked
with the foxy and worked something out. By the way, you and I are going hunting
one of the next days.”

 

“Yes, daddy.” Sometimes I feel like a cuddly toy, the way he’s dragging
me around. But it’s hard to be mad with him. At least it’s never dull in his
company. 

 

Suddenly, Dustin’s head flips in another direction, away from me. “Could
you excuse me for a moment?” Naturally he does not wait for an answer. He
simply vanishes between some bushes.

 

I mentioned it’s never boring with him, did I? And exhaustive, I
definitely forgot to include exhaustive.

 

“FOXY!”

 

Not only my heart takes a flying leap. What the... There he is. In the
past few heartbeats he had lost some years in age along with a number of inches
in height and looks now like a child who’s wearing the hand-me-downs of his
older brother. 

 

As fast as his short legs could carry him, he’s aiming for his target: a
red foxmorph, unknown to me. Judging his clothes a farmer from the valley. 

 

The unexpected battle cry had the poor guy visibly startled. Without
mercy Dustin takes advantage of it. Before the surprised fox can react, my
friend is behind him and hugging his tail, nuzzling the bushy appendage.

 

The unknown fox and I are undergoing a moment of mutual dumbfound-ness.
What the heck is going on in Dustin’s head sometimes? Well, it’s not over yet.
Now he’s fixing his eyes on me.

 

“KITTY!”

 

That piercing yell makes my eyes ring (adults tend to forget what strong
lungs such little pups are equipped with) and I close my eyes involuntarily.
Terrible mistake, in a split, little arms closing around my waist and his face pressing
into my tummy fur. 

 

And again every piece of my self-control is needed to not jump and
scream like the pipe on a teakettle. (Oh gods, I’m ticklish, he never must know!)

 

His timing flawless, he separates from me and runs away, a second faster
than my reaction. In a doorway, he turns around and waves to us. “Bye foxy, bye
kitty!” Then he’s gone. 

 

“Eh, nice kid”, the fox says, after a perplexed cough. “Not yours, I suppose?”

 

“NO!” I yell. With a portion more dignity I add: “No, I know his family,
though. I better go after him; the inner keep isn’t the best place to frolic
around.” It’s rude to leave without waiting for a reply, but the other surely
wouldn’t mind. 

 

The boy is not hard to follow, he’s simply laughing way too loud. Around
the next bend I catch up with him, he’s slumped down on a bench, holding his
gut. Guffawing so hard he has barely enough strength left so sit. 

 

“You fiend!” I roar, “I should spank you like the brat you are!” Though,
it’s hard to maintain my angry expression. No, it’s impossible, seeing him. 

 

“Oh my”, he sputters between gasps for air “I didn’t knew you’re into
kinky stuff.” That’s the last straw. Against my will I join the laughter, not
caring for the looks bypassing keepers give us.

 

“One day, you will yank the false tail”, I utter. “…Pun intended.”

 

“Actually, that happened before now. There was this grumpy, grey fox
kit. Who could have guessed, he’s animal cursed and age regressed and a
wizard?”

 

“Did he turn you into a toad?” I tease.

 

“He set my boots on fire.”

 

Now it’s my turn to start laughing and his to follow after. 

 

Even once we’re able to regain a façade of restraint, we spend the best
part of the next hour on that bench, chatting idly about trivial stuff. And
again it’s Dustin who’s seizing initiative. 

 

“Let’s hit the Mule, my tread of course.”

 

“No, apart from that it’s awful early for a drink; I don’t want to make
a draft on your generosity again. I owe you so much already.” I cut his protest
with a raised index finger, something I picked up from Skylark. “Besides, I
will be able to pay you back eventually. I think there is a suitable job for
me.” 

 

“That’s great! It’s not good for you to sit around and let your mind
work on its own all the time. You really need something to do.” It strikes me
now, he never mentions money. He’s either a very charitable guy or just too
polite to do. “What do you have in mind?” he inquires.

 

“I thought about applying at the writers guild for a copyist and
illustrator.”

 

Were he in his wolfen form, I’m sure his ears would perk. “Your
handwriting probably could need a little polishing first. That can take some
time”, he announces. “You will need something for the meantime.”

 

Ah, now I understand. “And perhaps there’s something you have in mind?”

 

“Might be, you remember the favors I called in? One of the people I
could persuade to help was George, said patrol master. What do you think about
patrol duty? Skylarks squad is still one man short.”

 

Well, I have the ears to perk
up, and I do it out of sheer surprise. “Dustin, you can’t be serious! Last time
we were out there you had to safe my sorry… behind ‘cause I fell over my feet.”

 

“And now I know exactly how to help you with that problem. Follow me
Spotty, we’ll meet with Mara.”

 

“Why do you have to pull your wife into this?”

 

“Patience, I would never spoil the surprise.”

 

*****

 

It’s afternoon. You could say Dustin took his time to reveal the “cure”.
He took a nap first, while Tamara made lunch, her famed stew. 

 

I dedicated the interim to my fur and got it back to a tolerable shape.
Then I had to grab Andrei and his younger sister Lucy and went out for a walk.
I made it just in time before they could drive their mother up the wall and
made her throw them out herself. 

 

Lunch was the usual lively and chaotic event a meal turns in when all
participants are filled with boundless, childish energy (a certain feline morph
excluded). An experience I grew very fond of. Amidst the seemingly untraceable
four-way chatter, Dustin brought me into the loop…

 

“Why am I doing this?”

 

“You’re gullible.”

 

“Obviously, thanks.”

 

“No problem”, my friend calls and continues with tuning his wheel
fiddle.  

 

“Relax, Mark. I promise I will be gentle.” Tamara presents a warm and
slightly amused smile while she steps near and takes my paws in hers. She had
changed in one of her bigger garments to accommodate her grown body. Now she’
resembling an adolescent of about 14 years, the highest of age an age regressed
keeper could reach. She’s quite something to look at with her wavy, red hair
and sparkling brown eyes. With her now more prominent feminine curves the
beautiful woman Dustin once married is much easier to surmise.

 

“If I was in your place”, I speak softly, “I would be the anxious one.” It’s your feet I’m about to flatten.”

 

Her mirth is almost as infectious as her husband’s. They’re very alike
in that case. “Don’t worry, dear. I donned the sturdy boots.”

 

“You have absolutely no clue why we’re doing this, am I right?” the boy
asks me.

 

I raise the left corner of my muzzle. A weak smile for my feelings. “It
seems you lost me somewhere on the way.”

 

“See, Mark, I watched you walking around, sometimes even running. I
entangled you in banter and guided you around; through stuffed rooms, huge
crowds, on slippery surfaces, steps up, steps down. Every time you were an
embodiment of grace and poise. 

 

“And then the opportunities when I tailed you just to observe. Mark, you
once pointed out that it’s not good for you to think too much. You were bloody
well right. Every time you start to reason about what to do with your legs, you
suck! I’d been honestly worried about you falling down some stairway and
breaking your neck.”

 

“Objection, your highness”, I, well, object. “There in the woods I acted
without thinking and we know how it turned out.”

 

“Yeah, you had an accident, lost every confidence in yourself that day
and it got worse since.” He is pointing to his now bare feet. “I turn
digitigrade, just like you are, when I’m changing shape (the reason why my
boots are rather loose strapped). Oh, and never forget the tail. I know very
well what you’re going through. But it’s not like you have to learn to walk
again. All right, some keepers have to, although not you. You’re a natural.

 

“Everything depends on rhythm. Your body assumed a different one you’re
used to. All you have to do is finding it. Dancing is all about rhythm. That’s
why we are doing this.”

 

He’s pausing, probably to give me time to consider – he gave me a lot to
mull over. With quite a small voice I speak off: “I’m not convinced.”

 

“Bear with us, what you have to loose?” my friend tries to light me up,
starting to turn the winder. Lucy carries a tambourine to daylight, Andrei a
flute. 

 

Tamara diverts my attention back to her: “We start with something slow.
I explain you the dance-steps. Try to keep up.”

 

*****

 

Hours had gone by. Finally, I’m sitting on my host’s low table again. 

 

Believe or not, I’m feeling sore. Not only my feet hurt, my mind even
more, from concentrating so hard over so long. 

 

I would describe the first hour as a lesson in awkward. Everything got
in the way: Naturally the feet (yes, very stable boots, I hurt my toes more
than hers), the knees, even hands, elbows and tail. 

 

Then, some when in the middle of the trial, somehow it got better. I
won’t claim I turned miraculous into an acceptable dancer – I promised Dustin bitter retribution if he really dared to
change my nickname from “Spotty” to “Klutzy” – Nevertheless, after my focus
waned with time, a certain amount of fluency came back to me. Something I had
not consciously experienced ever since waking up that first time. 

 

I’d been trying too hard; Dustin had said me so, I guessed the same. But
actually experiencing how everything
got easier when I let go, was like a bucket of cool water in my face.

 

So we three (the kids are brought to bed) sit here. A tin jar of ale
from Dustin’s own stash for each of us, enjoying this moment of calm in mutual
exhaustion. One from dancing, one from steering a clumsy cat around, one from
fighting his urge to break down in hysterical laughter. Figure out yourself
who’s who. 

 

A finger snaps twice in front of me. “Wake up Spotty, I’m talking to
you.”

 

“Sorry Dustin. I’ve been deep in thoughts.”

 

“Wasn’t hard to guess. So how do you feel now?”

 

“You wear a pleasant content expression”, Tamara adds.

 

Good question. What do I feel besides of tired food pads? I’d became
quite adept in self-analyzing me, shouldn’t be that difficult to figure out...

 

This time my friend snaps a little closer to my ears. “No zoning out
again, fill us in!”

 

“All right, I won’t take the risk of you doing something with this ear”,
I say quickly. “I feel good. It’s like this body was a couple of inches too big
for me and I’m finally growing into. Thanks to you, friends.”

 

Dustin lifts his jar. “I call that a toast!” And boisterously chinks
with me, only to let go a startled shout. Violently he splashes almost half of
his ale over his face and chest. 

 

Into the now dumbfounded silence my friend heaves a couple of
exasperated huffs. “Forgive me, Mark”, he stammers. “Please be so kind and call
me an idiot, a fool and a slowpoke.”

 

You can understand I’m taken aback by a request like this. “What’s up so
sudden?”

 

He’s raising a finger and holds it close to my jar. An eye blink later
he jerks it back with a muffled cry. But this time I’ve seen it too. 

 

A tiny, blue-white lightning connecting the jar and his fingertip. 

 

“No one of us thought about testing you for magic, especially me!”

 

*****





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