<html> <body> Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars III: Descensum (f) Sunday, May 6, 708 CR Late evening with the sun set and the sky dark with the last remnants of the day's storm, Charles leaned against the balcony railing high up in the trees, gazing at nothing. His scalloped ears turned to the sound of his wife's toe claws against the wooden steps; she would join him in moments in their lofty vantage amidst the massive redwoods. The strong scent of needles mixed with that of his children and the last remnants of horse imbedded in his tunic. To this he detected a bit of hot tea climbing the stairs too. He smiled, grateful for a day with his family, bereft of any responsibilities save their delight. His snout broadened with mirth as memory of being a child himself just yesterday returned. He could still feel the enthusiasm of scampering beneath the tables, tangling with Rickkter who he just knew he had to best at everything cause none of the grown ups understood how naughty the raccoon really was. And then later, after they were adults, the deep certainty that he had to show the bear Christina deference and be obedient to her lingered still which made him feel somewhat awkward when he ordered ale at her husband's tavern. But the innocence and simplicity of his brief return to childhood, and the manner in which it ended with Rickkter over Christina's knees getting his rump smacked by a meaty bear paw while he whimpered in the corner sore from where that paw had struck his rump moments before, brought a laugh from his throat even as Kimberly crested the top of the stairs with two mugs of steaming tea in her paws. “You sound cheerful,” she remarked as she settled in next to him, offering the mug in her left hand. He accepted it and wrapped his right arm about her shoulders. “Just remembering things. It is good to be home again. And I'm glad that storm is finally breaking up. I bet we'll be able to see stars in a hour or two.” Kimberly leaned her head against his shoulder, one large ear brushing the scar across the right side of his face. He did not flinch. “That was a sweet little tale you told them about what you did.” He lifted the mug to his snout and lapped at the tea to test its heat. The flavor was bitter at first, but sweetened with spices he'd known in his youth. She'd used the chai and black root he'd blended from the spices he bought from Peacock's Feast in Metamor a few days ago. He could feel the desert in those scalding drops. He grimaced and blew across the mug, steam rippling away and into the pleasant night air. “That's a little too hot still.” “You said the chai had to be hot to make good tea.” “Aye, I just thought it had sat longer. Do not fret. I think my tongue still works.” “Not enough,” Kimberly prodded with a gentle laugh. “Charles, what really happened? With Jessica?” He smiled and tightened his grip, pulling her close to his chest. His claws pricked at her kirtle as he pondered his words. “In truth it was Weyden who saved her. She planted a hyacinth in Lake Barnhardt; it was making us all forget things. She'd attached spells to it that turned us all into children. While the titanic battle of wills was engaged above between husband and wife, I and everyone else was playing in the barracks under the watchful eye of three experienced mothers. I acted and thought like I was seven years old again. I was even without my training and used my Sondeck to try and throttle Rickkter. You would have laughed to have seen us romp. Poor Rick doesn't want anyone to know about it; please don't mention this to anyone. It'll embarrass him and everyone else.” Kimberly blinked a few times and then blew across her tea. She turned her head so that she could see his expression clearly with her left eye. “Was Misha there?” “Thankfully, no.” “Then you might be able to keep the secret.” They both chuckled knowing what the one-eared fox would do should he learn of their age regressed adventure. Kimberly's tail rubbed against his own and he rested the toes of one foot over her own; as long as their toes were they could hold feet almost as well as holding hands. She rested her mug on a flat stretch of railing and then let her husband draw her in closer to his chest. “Is that how our children will be?” “Mostly. They'll be a little easier to handle without the Sondeck, except La...” he caught himself and tensed, letting his wife slip out of his arms as he stepped back, some of the tea spilling over the side of his mug and burning his hand. He ignored the burn and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He felt her paws slip beneath his tunic and find his bare chest. She did not need to grip his fur to draw him back to the railing. “I'm sorry,” he murmured softly. When he opened his eyes he could see that tears had blossomed in hers. He set his cup next to her own, then pulled his wife in close, arms wrapping tightly about her back. Her arms slipped beneath his vest and tunic, pushing it up against his shoulders. He loosened his grip a moment to shrug the vest off and yank the tunic over his head and toss it on the wooden floor of the balcony. Likely some Glen scout was either feeling embarrassment or should be just then but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms, bare but for the brown fur that coated them, around his wife who nestled against his lithe but strong chest. He could feel her whiskers trembling and pulsing against his fur, and as she shook with the sudden spike of grief, he felt his heart brim with indignation. You never stop missing those stolen from you. Nay. And he certainly wouldn't either. Charles held his wife for perhaps a minute before she pushed back, wiping her cheeks with her paws. “I'm sorry, Charles. I know how much you wanted to train him.” Even those words felt like a knife wound to the chest. Is that all she had to say about having your youngest and most precious son stolen from you? He swallowed and tightened his grip on her sides, but did not force her back into his chest. “I love you, my lady. You did what you could. More than I would have asked. It's not your fault the Lothanasi would not help. It's not your fault.” Garigan did say that he suggested sending for them a few days earlier. “I love you, Charles. I... I miss my little boy.” Fresh sobs erupted from her throat. Charles felt a tremble creep into his arms. In a voice so quiet even he could not distinguish the words he murmured, “I barely knew him.” “He asked about you,” Kimberly choked between her cries. “Once he learned to say what few words he knew, he always asked about you.” You will see him again. “I will see him again,” Charles assured her, leaning forward to nuzzle her snout. “And so will you.” She nodded, letting herself fold into his chest again. He cradled her close and shut his eyes tight, fighting back the tears. Together they stood, quiet but for their trembling and the grinding of their teeth. The steam rising from their tea ebbed. Crying won't bring back your son. “Crying won't bring him back, my love,” Charles echoed. He stroked one hand down the back of her head, rubbing his thumb behind the soft flesh of her ear just the way he knew she liked. “Come now,” he said in a lighter tone, “last night I was being spanked for being a naughty child and now we do this to ourselves?” She blinked and looked up at him. “You were spanked?” “Quite well in fact, and I probably deserved it. Would you rather not hear of that as we drink the tea I made for you?” Kimberly's eyes brightened and, despite the tears still standing in those eyes, a smile formed on her snout. “Aye. Thank you, my love. I'm sorry.” “I know.” He bent down and reclaimed his tea which no longer steamed. She turned to the railing and, after picking up her mug, sipped carefully at the tea. A grimace crossed her features and he chuckled again. “Do you not like it?” “It is very bitter.” “It gets better. If it is too bitter a little honey will help.” She gestured at his chest and then at his tunic still deposited in a pile behind him. “Your shirt?” He glanced at it, and a gleam came to his eye. “I will pick it up on our way back down.” “You'll catch bad airs like this!” His smile broadened as he stepped to her side at the railing, not caring for the moment who else saw his naked chest. His tail found hers and tried to entwine together as best they could. “Then you will have a wonderful excuse to keep me from riding out to the Narrows in the morning.” Kimberly laughed, nearly spilling her tea over the side of the railing, but he steadied her hands. She stared out into the darkness of trees and little lights. A long sigh escaped her chest and with it breathed her words. “I love you.” “And I you.” He nuzzled the side of her head and in a low voice whispered, “Now what I'm about to tell you, you cannot tell anyone, even Baerle, or my hide will not remain attached to my body for long. Because I was not the only one who got a spanking last night.” Her smile remained all through his tale. The mugs of tea warmed their hands and with every sip reminded him of home. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>