General editing done over all the chapters. Site is not letting me load new documents (Had to work on my phone which I disdain), so I can't promise quicker updates. Trying to work out these kinks and get back to working on my laptop.

Also, still a bad fic, still has all the bad writing qualities - loquacity, fetishes, complex words and syntax, no beta, etc, etc. [Thumbs up] Y'all enjoy.

Hawkz

The crowd hooted and hollered, mad and drunk over the capture of the beast and the perception of victorious superiority that proceeded it. Man rules over beast once more. Soldiers and noblemen with their rapiers squiggled forth, fearful and hesitant until their swords drew blood, after which they strutted like an alpha wolf in spring. So cocksure of their brawn bleeding into lecherous arrogance. Never mind that the beast was chained, starved, dehydrated, reduced from his former greatness until only a hollow husk survived. Those that survived the beast's capture showed off wounds and healing scars as if they did more than scream and flee. The cage occupied the center of the festivities initially, but games and shows bullied it off to the side where it was subject to the cruelties of the city's citizens. Children, the elderly, the rich, the poor, the free, even some enslaved; all mocked the beast's predicament and shuddered in fear when it deigned a snarl or bodily shift. Only when the cage held, the hexes and charms suppressing the beast's prowess, did audacity seep back into the audience. So long as the cage held.

Jane gripped the leash a little tighter, feeling bilious and edgy at the blatant sadism permeating the crowd. They cared not for another's suffering, and certainly not for hers. Jane was a slave. For a society to accept such barbarisms as valor beget a society tolerable to the subjugation of others against their will. Staring at the caged beast provoked a sympathetic light in her eyes.

Yes, she wanted to say, I know your pain.

The dog yawned and scratched its ear with its hind leg, wholly unconcerned with the affairs of man. Its coat was washed and brushed to a shine that spoke of a pampered upbringing and perfumed oils scented its fur. Meanwhile Jane hadn't bathed since last week and the sweat from her labors resulted in a malodorous whiff that threatened to grow. Smells of mud and dogs, grass and meadows coated her as much as clothing did. Speaking of which, she needed to change her uniform. The Master had guests coming this eventide and he despised disgraces in his presence. Jane knew how he dealt with disgraces.

Jane gave her companion a rueful smile, but the beast looked not at her, not at anyone, so she moved on. She couldn't help throwing a look over her shoulder as she walked away. The beast looked to be in pain, physical pain. Jane shook her head to dislodge the thought. Trouble would be an understatement should she be caught.

The Master's house was large but not grand. He had wealth but no title, so he took to courting the nobility for whatever bones of grace and prestige they might throw his way. Jane returned the hound to the Master's study silent and unobserved, as slaves should be, and departed just the same. There was no blessing like the ignorance of the Master to your existence. The Master's hunting hounds stayed in the stables and these dogs Jane preferred to dote on. The alpha was crazy about kissing her and liked to sleep beside her—along with the rest of the pack, all huddled into crevices for warmth or laid about at obtuse angles so that some part of them touched her—and it was the alpha whose head rested on her stomach as it rose and fell with each breath. Her heartbeat and breathing had been his lullaby, and others, since puppyhood. The hounds may listen to the Master but they loved the slave. Jane in turn loved them; arguably she was the only one who did. Jane tumbled with them, fought with them, ruled over them, fed them, nursed their wounds, sung to them deep in the night, whelped them as puppies, and eased them back into the earth when their time came. She was their world and they hers.

It was no secret amongst the other servants and not one they were keen to share outside their circle. Chances are the Master would see it as an insult and seek punishment. How could his hounds love a slave over the master, their true master in his eyes? The other servants may not love Jane but a code of conduct existed: Servants, slaves, their ilk stick together, for if they don't defend each other no one else will. So the cook who ate while he worked and the silver polisher who nicked pennies from drawers and Jane who had the love and loyalty of the Master's hounds had allies. Probably not friends, maybe never friends, but silent allies who omitted truths and observances to keep the peace within their circle. To give one of their own one less beating.

The hounds bayed at her arrival, smelling her through the door and Jane knew she'd really have to bath well after her visit. The Master had taken them hunting earlier—hunting the beast as did all the other noblemen and their sycophants—and the hounds were covered in filth and grass stains and blood and soaked. Muddied paw prints on her uniform a small price to pay for affection. Love was a rare commodity for one of her kind. Some said a weakness. A slave who offered love was a fool; a fool who courted dangers and despair by offering the one thing their masters could not lay claim to. But whoever said Jane gave her love to the Master? No, she had love for the common man, the stranger, the children, and the hounds. The beast. Older slaves muttered warnings. She played a dangerous distraction, they said. Jane paid them little mind. She knew about kindness and its consequences.

A small act of kindness can change the world, her mother often said. Jane liked keeping what she could of her parents alive. For her father, it was the sky and stars, while for her mother, these quaint adages by which she lived her life. It didn't always help, but it kept the cynicism and gloom at bay. So it was one of these truisms that Jane chanted to herself as she crept from the stables, away from the warmth of the hunting dogs and to the beast's cage six days hence. Six days to gather her courage.

Wolflike, thewy, and ancient in ways her people could only fantasize and envy in other creatures. Creatures similar to the one that wandered too close to this city-state were like to be ensnared. Some escaped, some didn't. This proved to be one of the unlucky ones. Jane could relate. Luck seldom favored her either. However careful her steps, the bucket's water sloshed over the side, which drew a grimace from her when it chanced to hit her fingers, though it had significantly cooled by the time she made it to the beast.

Blue-green eyes glowed from within the cage, shining with unnatural intelligence as they watched her from afar. Jane couldn't keep the shivers from rolling up and down her spine, her flesh prickling in warning. Primal senses buried deep generation after generation stirred into being. Turn back, they said. She courted danger, potential death by going to this creature. Jane steeled herself, still trembling from the cool air and a niggling sense of fear but her steps were resolute. No turning back now. Not while the poor thing continued to hurt. Another's pain unsettled her to this day. Call it an additional weakness, one of many she had.

Those eyes watched her, and when she grew too close its lips curled back revealing sword sharp canines, all pearly white and capable to snapping bone, steel—anything. Jane gulped. It did not look happy to see her. Jane opened her mouth to speak but her jaw clicked shut.

Does it even understand speech? Probably not. Though those keen eyes says it understood everything else; it understood how cruel people could be. Jane's eyes flickered to its wounds, inflicted by sword and stone. He may not be able to fit through the bars but Jane was small—always small, still small—and they did not hinder her.

A lethal paw, claws extended, caught her shoulder and drew a strangled cry from her. Blood. Blood flowed between her fingers trying to stem the laceration. From outside the cage, she withdrew the rag—lukewarm as was the water—and pressed it to her injury, wheezing out a hiss. The rag cleaned up her wound some, doing no more than wiping away the blood really, but Jane kept eye contact with the creature.

"Your turn," she said, her words stronger than she felt. One of its ears twitched, eyeing her actions then going back to her face. The tension in its muscles mitigated some. Inhaling and fighting to amass audacity, or rather willingness to take foolhardy risks, back through the bars she traveled, back into the cage. This time it didn't swipe at her but Jane knew better than to think it friendly. Hostility bled into its eyes, held back only by a smidgen of tolerance plus curiosity. She, Jane, was a curiosity. Once more her throat bobbed as she gulped trying and failing to swallow and bury the fear crawling up her throat. Crouching by its ribs, under the watchful stare of the beast, Jane cleaned the beast's injuries. When she concentrated on the blood and gashes, Jane could almost imagine him one of the hounds and her fingers gained a tender, delicate touch.

A growl rumbled through its body when her hands dug into a painful looking wound that spanned from the belly to the backside. Jane flinched and withdrew her hands, chancing a glance at the beast. Its eyes were closed, paws clenched, otherwise it did not pull away from her ministrations. A couple of frightened breaths later, Jane resumed caring for it. The water was cold and dyed a thick red by the time she finished cleaning its wounds—alas, she had no bandages on her to keep them cleaned—and a dull sun powdered the sky a pale, pale whitish blue along the horizon. She could afford to stay no longer. Though she turned to look at the creature, the beast to not return the favor, keeping his back on her as she left.

One instance of kindness does not a kind person make.

She will not come back, the creature told itself.

And so she didn't. Not until two nights later and then every other night since.

The alpha did not like how she smelled upon her first return, snuffling and shying from her touch like an upset lover. The others clustered around her, sniffing and inquisitive of why she smelled of the beast they hunted only so long ago. Feeding them soothed most of the packs worries along with affectionate rubs and petting for the alpha to huff and forgive her transgression. Jane rolled her eyes at the dog, smiling when he rolled into her stomach like his puppy days. When the doors to the stables banged open, Jane expected Cassandra or stable boy Rook. Her face went ashen and she scrambled to her feet and from there to a bow when the Master stepped into the light. He so rarely came by the stables, unless going for a hunt. Jane's stomach twisted into unpleasant knots when his feet slowed and stopped in front of her.

"My guest last night," the cautious pace of his speech told of drunkenness that continued to leech at his senses, "he inquired about good hounds for the hunt. Where is the stable master? Where is that thrice damned slave?" It was early in the morning, and the stable master always walked the horses for some light exercise least their caretakers wish to run them that day. Jane told him as much in low, respectful tones. The Master frowned, not registering her presence. However, he came back into focus and startled as if just registering her existence.

"You then. Do you know hunting dogs?" Better than he ever would. Better than any in the household. Jane gave a demur, humble reply that she took care of the dogs, yes. He grunted, not really acknowledging her, and ordered her to fetch him some more wine and something to break his fast. Jane bowed again and scurried to the kitchens. Some of the dogs made to follow her but a subtle hand gesture stayed them. She returned promptly, snagging a quick bite of yesterday's bread for herself as she walked back. Unfortunately for her the Master stayed in the stable, eating and drinking and complaining that the stable master was late, damn him. Busying herself with tasks gave her an excuse to wander away. She breathed a near audible sigh of relief when Kairo, the stable master, returned, taking the attentions of the Master with him. Her luck, it seemed, did not extend that far.

"Aye, sir I know the dogs, but Jane here takes care of them, raises them. She knows these dogs better than any one in the stables." Jane cursed his self-deprecating nature. She'd prefer the Master not really know of her.

"The girl?" he said, incredulous.

"Aye, raises them from pups, trains them. She's given you your best hounds in all the years I've been in service, sir. Young but capable. The alpha you're so proud of is her finest work." Jane dared not look up and dared not leave her task, but when the Master barked for her presence, there was little else she could do but obey.

His eyes blinked more than usual, albeit the brightness in his cheeks said he was more awake. Or the wine was doing as alcohol does and tempering his headache. It clearly did not improve his mood much as he scowled at her arrival.

"Kairo here says you know my hounds best. Tell me, which is the finest tracker?" Compared to her night with the beast, this man seemed a hundred times more frightening in comparison. Jane fought down her insecurities and answered accordingly.

"Dreyfuss, the spotted hound with the three legs, sire, is your best tracker but Arco is your swiftest hound. I suggest using the two if you desire using the dogs to hunt down anything like rabbits or foxes but if you seek only deer and boars then Ribs alone or with one of the hounds with stronger jaws are better suited. For deer, Mugi is able and good but there is no hound stronger and few faster than your alpha, Kazi. It would be he you want for boar hunting." There was a beat of silence before the Master asked other questions—who sired which pups, their age, health, strength, temperament and Jane answered them all, sometimes forced to have the dogs perform tricks or behavior to prove her point. One glance up showed the Master was looking at her, right at her. Jane licked her lips, mouth and throat feeling painfully dry when the man stayed silent, seeming to think.

"I see." There were a few more beats of silence. "Select hounds for foxes, ready before the midday meal. No more than three. If they do not perform properly, I'll be back." Both servants gave him a bow as he left the stables.

Kairo gave her an encouraging smile. "They'll do fine. Your dogs always do." He left to resume his duties but Jane felt queasy. After all, she knew how the Master dealt with disgraces.

Foxes. Intelligent creatures. Fleet of foot and fighters when circumstances demanded it. Fear of an opponent did not keep them from engaging larger enemies. Her eyes perused the pack members, shifting through all her recollection of the dogs' traits, habits, characteristics, and history of past hunts. Arco the swiftest, Kazi the alpha, and Gunner the cleverest. The latter had rarely been out-tricked by prey and he lived for the praise of others. So long as Master praised him, there was nothing Gunner would not do. Master just had to praise him. Jane bit her lip.

Leaning in front of the herding breed, Jane brushed her fingers through Gunner's black coat. Black and white and shaggy, his coat was delightfully warm in the cooler seasons. Jane rubbed his ears and he hummed in pleasure. "I'm begging you Gunner, please the Master. He may not praise you during the hunt, but I promise you all the belly rubs and pork scraps in the world if you'll do what you do best during this hunt." Gunner tilted his head at the girl's sad tone. He whined, brown eyes showing concern. Jane kissed his brow. The whippet and the alpha got similar treatment just before they departed.

Kazi turned to look at her, his eyes astute, before refocusing on the hunt. The Master sat on his finest mount, a rich brown stallion and dressed in attire almost as pompous as his companions. His guests slouched with a confidence money couldn't buy and they gazed at his show of fine stock with envy and hubris. They both craved what he had and disdained him for it. There was, however, a ring of truth when they complimented his hounds and the Master sat a little straighter.

"I always make sure to raise my own hunting dogs, of course. A man who doesn't know his own dogs, isn't worth much is he? Yes, these I've selected only the finest bitches for and they've been great hunters in the past. Should sire greater hunters in the future." His ignorance and assuming undue plaudits made Jane uncomfortable. If anything should go wrong, his wrath would be double. The Master hated looking bad, especially in front of blue bloods.

The horn sounded and they left the city in pursuit of fox fur.

Jane lost her fear of the men when the hounds returned to her care, Arco limping and Gunner slavering so badly white foam drooled at the side of his mouth. She cooled them down with water and ice, careful they didn't drink so much as to be sick. Poor treatment of her dogs always fueled her rage. She startled when the stable doors banged open a second time that day, the Master ginning and sweeping his arms in elaborate, vain circles.

"And at last, here are the hounds. Fabulous beasts, if I do say so myself." His guests nodded, eyeing the beasts covetously. One pair of eyes found her and Jane patted herself on the back for not flinching.

"Who's the lass?"

"A mere servant. Nothing more," the Master said with a disinterested wave. "She just bathes and feeds the animals. Simple things really."

The guest's eyes sparkled as they read between the lines. "So she raises and trains your dogs. In a way."

The Master's grin grew a defensive edge. "I suppose you could say that. Yes."

"How much for her?" The others started, wondering how the conversation became a sale of a slave. Cupidity was half the core of her Master's soul; the other half was dedicated to business intelligence. He never valued slaves as people, but he was not blind to their uses in labor, knowledge and service skills. His grey eyes did not glance over to her but his posture hardened.

"I'm afraid she's not for sale. The dogs are too attached to her, as you can see. They've always had a weakness for females." The crowd laughed, as if sharing an inside joke and the guest let it slide, smiling, but his eyes found her again and Jane ducked her head to the dog in her lap, making a show of looking for ticks and burs.

"Yes, I can see she's very…attentive. Perhaps if the dogs grow weary of her," his voice trailed off in suggestion.

"Of course, of course. Should the dogs grow weary of her." They smiled at each other, neither wearing a genuine grin and the crowd left soon after that. Jane hugged the dog a little closer to her. Her luck with the Master, it seemed, was running out.

The beast did not stir awake at her approach any more, never opening his eyes beyond a lazy slit, breathing in her scent and then sighing it out once he verified it was her. Jane continued to clean his wounds, unable to bring bandages with which to wrap them. She wasn't even sure if the townsfolk would notice and if they did, their reactions could be inimical, not good at best. So, she made due with rags and soap and buckets of warm water. Days turning to weeks, weeks to months and now autumn was halfway gone.

She didn't really talk to him, not any thing more than short phrases in low tones. The beast visibly jumped when she began singing once. It turned to look at her, keen blue-green eyes haunting her from within the darkness. Jane's throat closed at the sight and didn't resume singing the rest of the night but the beast's gaze never left her, even as she walked away Jane felt his stare. That had been almost a week past now. Finding out his gender had been, interesting. Yes, interesting. This beast certainly had intelligence. And pride. Massive amounts of pride. When Jane inquired if he was a 'she' because of it's luscious fur coat, made a great performance of showing her just what his gender was. Jane never burned so red before and she swore he wore a smirk by the end of it. She muttered an insult under her breath then and he swatted her with his tail, slapping the wet rag up into her face.

Yep, lots of pride in this one.

His wounds were mostly healed but he looked thin to her. Too thin. Jane chewed her lip in thought. If no one else was feeding him, the beast forgotten since the festivities…

Jane left her bucket in the cage and he turned to watch her go. It was unusual for her to leave before the hour prior to dawn. Every one in the Master's house was asleep, even the 'guard' but even so, Jane winced each time her foot landed on a squeaky floor board. She couldn't carry that much in her hands but bundling it up into a makeshift sack allowed for a larger portion even if she staggered beneath the weight. He was a rather large beast, after all.

It perked up at her arrival, nose flaring and drinking in deep the smell of raw meat. Jane was sure he'd be drooling if he wasn't so proud. She unwrapped it before him, but the beast only sniffed, haughtily rebuffing her tribute. Sighing, she stepped forth, catching his eye, and made a show of ripping off a piece and eating it. She chewed slowly, then getting lost in the flavors. Meat was a rare commodity for her and even raw it invoked pleasing sensations across her palate. When she opened her eyes, the beast was staring at her transfixed. For some reason Jane blushed.

"See? It's not poisoned."

It blinked a few more times at her, sniffed again at her offering and proceeded to eat. Jane beamed a smile at him. He swung around to look at her when she snuggled into his belly, a little awkwardly splayed against his side so she could see the stars.

It was a beautiful, clear sky tonight, star bright and white against the black-blue backdrop.

The flashes of a childhood stung her eyes and her voice worked to mimic her mother's. It was a poor imitation, but if Jane closed her eyes—and she dared not, not with a night this beautiful—then she could imagine her mother singing to her. For now, just her own voice would have to do. Several songs subsequently, when her voice hitched in a way that said it grew hoarse, Jane noticed how slow and resonant, almost bass-like, the beast's breathing became.

He was asleep.

Jane tilted her head to see his face. Peaceful. His scowl smoothed into something like Kazi when he was a puppy. It made Jane smile and she was careful not to make noise as she packed up her things and left. She nestled back in between the hounds again, Kazi finding her stomach and resting his head there, huffing his vexation that she continued to leave. She scratched his ears in calming circles and he hummed his delight. Sleep beckoned her, too, and Jane was not long in joining her bedmates.

A rough hand on her shoulder woke her, jarring her unpleasantly. It was Rook, the stable boy. He looked frightened but then again, he always looked scarred someone would raise their hand to beat him. It took a few years, but he relaxed more around Jane than before, though still skittish.

"The seneschal wants to see you."

Jane rubbed sleep from her eyes, muscles lethargic. Her brain battled for concentration. The head butler? She yawned.

"He wants to see you after breakfast. I can feed the dogs today," he offered.

"Thanks Rook." Her gratitude was sluggish, like the rest of her body, but nothing a slash of cold water wouldn't fix. The seneschal took not a heartbeat to look at her before sending Jane out with some matronly servants who promptly scrubbed, washed, and cleaned away her outer layer of dirt and dog smell. It took more than one bottle of shampoo and scented soap but the smells did come out, leaving her reeking of some flowery concoction. They even gave her a tunic and trousers, like the base attire squires wore in casual, very casual, settings. Jane blinked in confusion but obeyed.

The seneschal nodded to himself next time he saw her and wasted no breath with frivolous words. "The Master enjoyed the hunts over the years. Continue your work to such standards." It was as close to praise as he's ever given any servant and Jane inclined a bow. "Your service thus far has earned you this mark of promotion. You are to accompany the Master on his over night hunts."

The news sent a chill down Jane's spine. "What?"

The butler's face remained flat and unemotional. "Wash your ears properly and listen. The Master does not like to repeat himself and neither do I. You will accompany the Master on his over night hunts to take care of the hounds and whatever other tasks he asks of you. His aide will see to his personal wants but you must be ready to assume whatever chores he requests of you. We'll have to teach you numbers and letters of course—"

"I am literate. Sir," she said, tacking on the polite moniker at the end through slightly ground teeth. Surprise came across his face but that was the only emotion he showed. She had not always been in this position and she held onto those memories viscously, even fostering knowledge and memories outside this house to sustain her. One day, she'd get out. One day, she would not longer be here. But that was far in the future and Jane held no illusions presently. Until then, she'd amass knowledge and keep her head down.

The seneschal nodded again, and that was that. He reviewed her duties and rehashed again and again the etiquette and mannerisms expected of her. Like the Master, the butler did not accept disgraces to the house. She was to bath regularly now, at least every three days. Jane kept her head down and nodded. As it was, her promotion did not go unnoticed and not all the other slaves viewed her gains kindly. Some of her greetings went unanswered but Jane merely bit her lip and sought no confrontation. The set of clothing was undyed and the pants one size too big—she had to pull the strings ridiculously tight—but it was better than her previous outfit.

The cook gave her a second glance at dinner, taking in the bathed scents though his eyes caught her lack of shoes. Still a slave. He jerked her nod and handed her the standard bowl of soup and bread. Cook ruled these kitchens and he didn't take brawls at this table, slave or servant or freeman. Nevertheless, Jane ate that night in the stables after taking scraps for her dogs and treats for the younger ones. That night she doesn't go to the beast's cage, staying with her dogs, hugging Kazi next to her for heat, security, and comfort. He stayed near her but his head is up, alert as if listening for dangers, throughout the night and his teeth flash at shadows and sounds.

Just like his grandmother, Jane hazily thinks before drifting off to sleep.

Her heart doesn't let her stay away from the beast for long. Confusion wages war when future hunts gain her trinkets, insignificant to the Master but imbued with meaning for one of her status. A comb, regular access to the bathing facilities—soap! shampoo!—little canisters of beeswax, and a vest and gloves for the winter months. But no shoes, never shoes, so she continues to bind her feet with cloth in the snowy times of the year like all her ilk and Jane believes this fact alone keeps their ire at bay. It doesn't matter that she shares her good fortune. The gardener who always gets crackled and bloodied skin under the sun and Jane gives him a generous helping of beeswax for his lips and skin each time she sees him. She sneaks soap out to wash the little ones and they get less sick, their wounds less likely to get infected and even brushes the children's hair, giving the girls braids if it's long enough or cutting the boys' spiky heads into something "fierce".

Tidbits of kindness that people all took yet did not always reciprocate. So when one of the older servants—one who bought his freedom and lived as a reminder for what could be—came up to her, silently holding up a pair of suspenders, Jane beamed and launched herself to hug the old man. He chuckled, patting her head like she was his own granddaughter, and returned to his post. The suspenders worked much better than the strings along her waist.

Still, the gifts from the house unnerved her and she's visiting the cage again, carrying the meat in her knapsack. Jane made sure he never went hungry. The hounds had tricks besides hunting and tracking and balancing treats on their noses. Finn carried messages and goods from the stables to wherever she was, much like a courier and as he got older he became grouchier but he performed his duties well and Jane knew he wouldn't confront the beast. Finn dropped off the food, just a few steps outside the cage but within the creature's ability to use one paw to drag it back in. The beast stares at her and then, in a great big show of petulance, turns his back on her, showing only his rump.

Jane couldn't help it—she laughed.

He was grumpy and mad at her. He laughter only vexed him further and one of his hind legs pushed her out of the cage. Jane bowled over with laughter now, smothering it with both hands in case someone should hear and wander over. Trouble hates nothing as much as a smile, and this beast was most certainly trouble. Regaining her breath, though peppered with giggles and ear-to-ear smiles, Jane sat up.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd miss me. I missed you, too; I just let myself be distracted with other thoughts. I'm sorry." She spoke softly and speaking to the beast wasn't weird but it had that gawky quality people assume when talking to strangers. Her stiff speech acquired a more natural flow the longer she talked and Jane found she liked talking to him. He listened well, even as he continued to sulk.

"You probably can smell the difference and are undoubtedly grateful for it. My master was pleased with my work—I take care of his dogs, I have since I was taken in—and so I've been receiving trinkets. Little things to him but much valued by people in, in my position. I'm a slave you know." The beast didn't react and Jane appreciated that. "Of course you don't have such a barbaric custom where you're from, I'm sure, but here slavery plunders on. The Master gave me a comb and the seneschal told me to grow out my hair. It, it kind of makes me nervous. Their attention. I'd prefer not to be noticed. To quietly gain my freedom. I fear that may no longer be the case. I'll be going on hunts with him and his," she chewed around for a judicious word, "companions. Nobles. I don't like nobles. They take what they want with no care or concern for how their actions affect others." She had the beast's attention now. "Just look at you. They took you, you who did them no wrong just so that they could feel mighty." Jane coughed out a laugh. "Barbaric."

She looked around the cage. No lock or mechanism that she could see. Nothing that Jane could lift or unlatch to free him. She bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I don't even know how to free you."

The beast rumbled something, nudging her with his large head. Jane leaned into his bodily heat. He was magnificent. Elk-like antlers, maybe more reindeer-ish, antlers sat atop his cranium as proud as a ram's horns. Four points were broken or snapped off, undoubtedly from the chase. They looked thick and strong, capable of gorging a charging bull or boar. His coat thicken and fluffed up to its winter potential, a beautiful grey-white collage with alternating shades of light and dark and intersected with thin patches of ebony. Under no conditions could Jane hope to lift one of his paws—he was lean, still, too bony she thought, but his form did not beget weakness. Sometimes Jane wondered why he didn't just break the cage. Then her mind's eye flashed the wards. Of course. Magic.

"I feel bad referring you as, well, you. You should have a name. What's your name?" There was a beat of pause and Jane flushed red. "Right, can't talk. I can give you a name.

"Fluffy." One of those same paws poked her in the stomach and Jane wheezed out all her breath at the force. "Sourpuss. I should call you that out of spite." His green eyes were not amused but Jane caught a smirk, she thought it was a smirk, tipping up his muzzle.

"Fine, not Fluffy. I can name you Spot or Reindeer Dog or—" He rumbled a warning and Jane huffed. "Like you have any better ideas." The fur around his collar bristled as if he lacked ideas, good ideas thank you very much. "I'd love to hear these ideas, God of Reindeer Dogs." He let that one slide as he was thinking. He nodded to one of the it torches.

"Kaunaz? You want your name to be Kaunaz?" Jane tested the name on her tongue, raising a skeptical brow at her companion. "You're hardly a light in a dark tunnel, though I guess you're acceptably smart." He snorted at her then, his nose thrust into her belly and squishing her into his side. Jane giggled and scratched the top of his muzzle. He grumbled, pulling away to make it easier on her to breath but butting her when she stopped petting him.

Jane told him about other things—the dogs she raised, what their traits were, whom she favored, the alpha of the pack, what the Master's house was like, what her life was like—but Jane shied from darker, heavier topics. This was the first 'conversation' she's had with him and she didn't want it to be marred by unpleasant things. A yawn tore through her throat, cutting off her explanation of how she got these suspenders. Jane rubbed her eyes. It was time for sleep. She promised to return and told him not to attack any dog courier carrying his food and tapped her foot until he grunted what was grumbling assent. She hugged his chest goodbye and promised once more to come back and see him soon.

He watched her go and when she disappeared behind a building, "Kaunaz" flexed and rolled his spine, closing his eyes for concentration. His reserves were still low. He had to stay longer than he thought. But, he inhaled the scent of dogs, flowers, soap and her, it is not all bad.

She came back on the first day of snow, cheeks red as apples behind her scarf. She wore a vest and two layers of tunics but that wasn't good enough for the cold, he saw her shivering but still she came and smiled at him.

"Hey Kaunaz." A silly name, but he supposed it would have to do for now. "I brought you a real treat." Indeed she had and Kaunaz couldn't believe she managed to carry it. A leg of venison fresh with blood fell before him but Kaunaz did not eat it. He growled at the intruder. The girl turned to look behind her and smacked—smacked!—his muzzle.

"Be nice," she warned. As if she could honestly threaten him. "He helped me carry it. Baldur is strong and I couldn't carry this all by myself." Hearing his name the cop crept closer albeit cautiously. He stared Kaunaz down, analyzing and watchful. If he should harm his pack mate, Baldur would charge.

Kaunaz sat straighter. A mere dog should not dare to challenge him, caged or not. Jane ignored or was ignorant of the tension. From the corner of his eye he saw her leave and give the dog such affection. She never looked at him thus. Kaunaz suddenly felt spiteful of this canine and curled his lips back to reveal many teeth. The cur dared disregard his presence, focusing on the female human. She petted and coddled him, rubbing all his tender spots and murmuring words of love. Kaunaz's spite became physical form in a discontented growl. He did not like sharing his things. Baldur's hackles, in turn, rose and he growled right back. In the back of Kaunaz's mind, he complimented this dog for valor, foolish valor that would get him killed, but not all had the temerity to challenge him. It was another shock then, when the female wound on him with a vehement stare.

"Don't think about it Kaunaz. I will brook no violence on your part."

The beast seethed. Her help made him heal faster and he wished not to linger in this primitive city. He would stay just long enough to turn it to ash for its inhabitants trespasses but not a lingering fortnight. He supposed he could let this girl live. The very least he wouldn't go out of his way to kill her, although casualties and consequences were a part of battle.

She fetched the dog a bone from her same knapsack and the canine was content to let his caretaker be. Kaunaz expected her to leave then. She was full of surprises, this one. Back into the cage she came, cuddling into his side. Part of him wanted to push her away, rebuff her presence for the slight she gave him; instead, he watched her. As usual, she turned her gaze to the sky and in moments was telling him about the celestial mythology her own father told her as a child. She spoke of him with incredible love, as if he never really died, and as long as she kept his memory going a part of him her father continued to live. Kaunaz envied a part of that. The only family he enjoyed was his mother and on occasion his brother. Father, yet not his father, that man he preferred not to dwell on. Even when not singing her timbre was lullaby-like, calm and quiet. Loud enough just to be heard and when it diminished you leaned in, yearning to hear more. Kaunaz realized she had been quiet for some time and opened his eyes to look at her. She did not look at him, keeping her gaze on the stares but he could smell the sadness, the loneliness.

"They died. Sick as I recall. A bad harvest and infestation of rodents that year and of all possibilities, they died yet I lived. Many people perished or grew sick and feeble. Many lost their wealth or means of income. Farmers too weak to plow the fields, laborers who couldn't lift heavy packages. There were many stories like that. So, when my landlord needed extra income, he was sly enough to find it. My parents had no relatives, not within the city at the time, but their house was their own. Bought and paid for. I learned might is not right but those are the rules of this city. The landlord had the might and just enough legal prowess—a bribe—to confiscate the house and all it housed. I became a possession, no more a person. He wanted to keep me but one of the Master's servants was going around buying folk. They needed more workers and workers were cheap those time. Sick, weak workers but so cheap and if you spent a little time feeding them, sometimes they'd get better. Lots of profits to be made in such a market.

"So I was traded. It was winter then." The girl's eyes followed the snow, waiting until the snowflake crashed to earth and then found another in the throes of gravity. Kaunaz supposed that is why he was getting this brief biography. His tail shifted around his leg, draping over her to provide warmth. It'd be inconvenient for her to die now. She petted his tail, breaking her focus on the precipitation for marvel over his handsome figure. Kaunaz preened at the thought. She turned back to the snowflakes after a few moments.

"Chance threw me into the stables instead of with the washing women, learning to weave or cook or other the other domestic tasks then. The hound master at the time was old and he thought me a boy." A rueful smile tugged at her. "I was dirty enough I suppose. Short hair, too." Her fingers made pleasant strokes along his underbelly. "He never learned my name, just called me boy and I was scared of being sent back to the kitchens so I never told him. He died by the time I was ten, perhaps less than, and he taught me the hounds well enough that I managed on my own. They've been my family ever since."

He caught her eye and held it. There was more to that story there. Women do not raise dogs, not here. Here women are domestics, thus, she was an anomaly and anomalies have stories. His blue-green eyes sparkled at the insight. The girl gave a shallow gulp, looking away.

"Some other time, perhaps," she mumbled. He curled tighter around her. He wanted the story now. She made to move but his bulk held her down. She rumbled his "name" in warning and he wanted to laugh now. A wisp of a women, human, trying to intimidate him. Oh, what fun. She proved a slippery little thing, squeezing and squirming out from his back legs and vaulted in between the bars before he could catch her. Well, wasn't she just full of surprises.

Kaunaz showed all his teeth in a grin. Baldur took his post in front of her. She soothed him with an ear rub and soft words. The dog leaned into her touch and obeyed. This girl did have a way with dogs, perchance she told him truths. She left then, Kaunaz watching as she turned the corner. He enjoyed surprises.

The hoarfrost of winter churned and stiffened to knee-deep snowfall and Kaunaz was left, forgotten, in the town square, pushed off to the side and let be. Everyone was huddled around their fires, keeping warm and eating and drinking and staying indoors. Everyone but her. She—Jane—visited him in the night, telling stories, telling experiences, telling him about her life's ambitions. Freedom. She was close. Closer than before any way. The Master used hunting as a means to entertain his blue-blooded guests and winter did not stop them from chasing stags and rabbits and foxes and any other creature not hibernating until spring. One time she was going to be gone for weeks so she brought him a feast and told him of her departure. There was no acknowledgement at the time but Kaunaz did not enjoy his solitude during that period. Not like his used to.

She had become a bantering acquaintance, teasing him, reading to him from pilfered—"borrowed"—books and even brushing his coat on one occasion. He made her repeat the measure every week since. He loved being groomed and looking neat. Internally, Kaunaz shuddered as to how bad he smelled. Nothing a simple spell couldn't rectify but he was amassing his magic for a grand finale and he would not waste his scheme on pride. Not this time. Besides, his visitor smelled sufficiently pleasurable to make up for the fact he hasn't bathed since before his capture.

That night was a book night, reading to him a tale even he was not familiar with but one he found engaging. War and terror over a throne by two brothers, it was a tale made all the sadder by that love the siblings continued to hold for one another despite despicable acts they committed. Before their eyes lay the destruction they blasted upon the other but close their eyes and each saw and felt better childhood times, wishing so much for peace as they waged war. How poignant a tale. Kaunaz shuddered at the similarities. She closed the book at the last ten pages and recited it from memory. Although the story was not a happy tale, it had a happier ending, if only for the two brothers. Kaunaz was, therefore, immensely pleased when she recited what her people called "the Paradox Poem". It contradicted itself in every line and Kaunaz relished in the ordered chaos of it all.

In winter Jane could not afford to stay long, the nights too cold for her despite her vest and Kaunaz's body heat. "Be a good boy," she often told him at her departure, smiling as he grunted an eye roll. Her scarf dangled unbound from her neck, packing her things when Baldur hugged close to her and growled. Jane looked up to see a man staring. He hustled over to her, his face an image of concern but something in his smile made her gut churn.

"You should not be so close. That's a dangerous beast young lady." That voice sounded familiar. Jane ducked her head in a bow and kept her gaze from him.

"Thank you kind sir, but I'm alright." Jane turned to leave but the man was in front of her. Behind her, Jane heard Kaunaz shift.

"It would be a shame for this barbaric beast to mar that pretty face of yours. It would not do for one of Mister Quinn's servants to be injured. You do wonders with those dogs. I don't think I've ever seen such remarkable hounds." He spoke easily, eloquent and comfortable despite being so near the very beast he warned her was dangerous. "I must say, this seems an odd destination, especially given the hour." His question was light, almost off-hand. Jane ducked her head lower, knowing just how bad a liar she was.

"Sometimes, at odd hours, the dogs get restless. I take them out for a stroll to soothe their nerves, stretch their legs. He was just curious as to the creature's smell." Not entirely a lie. Some nights she did have to walk the dogs at odd hours and, initially, they were curious about the beast's smell. Because that smell was all over her. That curiosity over the months lessened to an extent as she continued to visit Kaunaz.

"Is that so? Well, I would hardly be a gentleman if I didn't escort you the rest of the night through your walk. There are dangers out this time of night." His posture was amicable, open, but Jane shied away.

"I thank you for your offer, but—"

"I insist." He was less than a step from her personal space and she within an arm's length of the man. Jane shivered not from the cold and her voice floundered to find a reason to leave. Alone.

The cage rattle ominously, the man whipping his attention to the beast's foreleg that struck the bars, sendings pallid yellow spikes of magic at the contact. Jane used the distraction to bolt, Baldur at her heels not a heartbeat later. She didn't stop running until she was in the stables, safe behind locked doors and cocooned in her pile of hounds and panting for breath and clarity. Whatever that was, she didn't want to know.

Jane did not visit Kaunaz or send dogs carrying sustenance to him for many nights, risking only brief visits at the break of dawn under the pretense of going into town for supplies. Kaunaz was not happy with her but Jane put him out of her mind, focusing on dogs and freedom. Tunneling her vision helped get her through the days at the cost of blinding her to events around her.

Spring battled with winter for dominance, swelling some days with warmth and losing others to a bitter chill that bit deep into people's bones. It was on one of the warmer days Jane got thrown into the town's fountain and that piece at least could be considered good luck. The Master was in a rage, other servants trying to calm him down to no effect. Jane was walking the Master's house dog, an easy light target in reach. He grabbed for her, rattled her worse than a thirsty drunkard pounding on a tavern's door, his words lost as he choked and waved her about, finally pitching her into the fountain. One of the servants cooled down their master when Jane came up sputtering for air. Those who noticed turned to stare. Everything stuck to her figure and wrapping her arms around her self did little to abate the effect. Of all possible people to make eye contact with, Jane found that same guest running covetous eyes over her form, but he was not the only one. Two unnaturally bright blue-green eyes smoldered from the sidelines. A youthful fellow, an older friend of Rook's, took off his jacket for her and Jane sneezed out a thank you.

Jane shook her head to try and clear out some of the water, her voice raspy. "What happened?" The young man sighed, showing his unease and fatigue, but spoke low. "Master's ambitions." He need not say any more, but he did. "Sorry, hound master." Jane stopped squeezing out her hair to face him. He looked guilty for being the bearer of bad news but bore it well for such a young man. "They plan to finish the hunt—hunting the beast—this spring and the nobles 'offered'—sacrificing really—the Master's hunting hounds. I saw what that thing did to the other dogs who came too close. I'm, I'm truly sorry."

She saw what that beast had done too, the dogs shred to ribbons but, he was so calm now, and her dogs gave him food, cautiously of course, but, but to sacrifice her family for pride? Jane locked her knees to remain standing.

"Why was the master angry?" He didn't prize these hounds, not like she and he could always buy more, have her train more, rebuild his stock. Why the anger?

The youth chewed his lip, swallowed his unease and did not prolong her suffering. "Because they, the nobles, are taking his dogs for the hunt. And you, the hound master. To be returned afterwards, of course. But he is not to accompany them in their pursuit of the beast." Jane could no longer stand, or hear, or breath, or think.

People in power, how they abused her. A shudder worked through her body at the image of that guest, the man whose name she didn't know but whose face was clear as day. He was a noble. He would be there. And so would she. Alone. The Master was cruel and possessive but he did not cross that one line every slave feared. On some level, he had principles to which he adhered. More than likely, that guest had no such qualms.

"The master said no?" The hope in her voice made her want to cringe and the older boy winced.

"If it matters, he argued." He was not being unkind with his words. Nobles, men in power, they took what they wanted, and the Master's possessiveness over his property—for that is what she was—offered a cold solace. Jane nodded her understanding and the boy helped her to her feet, him being not much younger than her though significantly taller and stronger. The walk back to the house was silent and lonely in spite of the person at her side. She had to do something, was a vague notion in her mind swamped by dread.

Spring.

Jane gained a sudden hatred of the day's warm weather. She wanted eternal cold and snow, a perpetual blizzard, a miracle to keep her family alive. Because that is what it would take, a miracle or a tragedy. The beast's premature death, perhaps?

But, he didn't do anything wrong. He's just trying to live. Part of her heart didn't care, not enough to sacrifice her hounds. For the first time in a long time, Jane cried herself to sleep. Oh, please, let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up.

It was a nightmare, one she lived.

Down in the town square, Kaunaz saw Jane emerge from that fountain, instincts swirling to the surface. His magic hummed to life, strong, bright and green. The magical guards along the cage crackled in respond and Kaunaz burned away the cheap magic.

Spring gave him vitality. Energy. Power. He could tear apart this pathetic metal box like a child crushing flimsy cardboard. But not yet. He wanted to await night, when his visitor was due. One passerby came close and spat in his direction.

Hatred, hot and violent, snaked into his visage. The man, middle-aged, clumsy, and dressed in such a fashion that impressed none but his other, simple-minded mortals, flinched from what he saw and scurried away. For so long he played the good captive; it was time these mortals saw the monster beneath the mask and learned, once more, to fear and respect his kind. The beast buried head into his front paws in case a by stander perceive the change. No one else noticed and "Kaunaz" smirked. After tonight, this city would burn.

Jane did not show that night. Or the next, or the day after that. Not for many nights. Kaunaz snarled, his magic boiling as furious as he was over her disloyalty. That stupid little slave girl had audacity to forgo him? And for what? Did that man claim her? The beast gnashed his teeth at the thought. If she wouldn't see him, then fine. He'd set the city ablaze and her along with it. It was not quite night, the sun rimming the horizon a bloody orange red and people still crowded the outside.

Perfect.

The beast flexed his shoulders once, twice and the bars groaned under the magical strain, snapping with precise metal flicks, and then just for flair, he shattered the rest of the cage in an explosive show of magic. People were already screaming and running. Kaunaz breathed deep, drinking in the chaos and his magic spiked again in response, wanting very much to frolic and play and wreck havoc. Soldiers with lances and spears ran to the center, looking for the cause and paling when they saw him, free and strong and untold preternatural ability gushing from his every pore. He enjoyed their screams, their pains, their deaths. Just like old times.

The green fire surged outward, seeking anything resembling fuel and the screams grew. The beast grew bored with only his canine form and green magic washed over him, flowing away to reveal a man. He wandered, killing as his pleasure against those faces he remembered and he never forgot a face. He found the man who spat at him and particularly enjoyed his torment. His pace was lazy, unhurried, avoiding the slums for the smell and filth, instead going to the wealthy district with large house and scents of opulence and power and money. People were bottle necking the city gates and he did not stop them. Let them run and spread their fear.

The fourth house he found him. A noble, young by his standards, not so young by theirs, and the man's eyes narrowed when recognition hit. The fool thought him a vagabond and took up arms against him. Thin, skeletal fingers flattened his esophagus, leaving just enough air to wheeze in and out for a slow death. The man twisted and grappled, fighting death to ill effect. The man smiled, watching him squirm so. The roar of the fire consuming the city was distant but his pumping blood, the thrill of this, echoed in his ears. It had been too long.

"God and ghouls, what are you?"

The man sneered at the man asphyxiating before him. "Still capable of speech, hmm? Some would call that impressive. Not I. I am far, far above you mortal, and you should know better than to touch what is mine." The man sagged against his fingers, limp and moments later growing cold. He tossed him aside. He forgot about her initially. Perhaps she was still alive. If she was… He grinned. How did they like being hunted?

He remembered her smell well though the smoke and carnage blurred most things together. He sighed, an impatient flick of his wrist weaving together a rudimentary tracking spell. Man form or not, he quickly covered the distance to find her in the stables.

Jane tucked a few more things into her knapsack, barking orders to the pack to gather the puppies. Arco was on her third trip running puppies too young to survive on their own past the city gates where other pack members lay in wait. She tied another sack onto one of the omegas, whatever foodstuff she could manage, and sent him running with two body guards. Most likely people would not bother dogs, carrying things or not. People just wanted to escape and that is exactly what she and her family were doing. Kazi and some of his strongest circled the pack, attacking strangers and growling away potential thieves. Jane slipped a short knife into a side pocket and flint into her pack. She tightened the laces on her boots. Good to go.

There was a prickling sensation tickling her neck and she had no time to contemplate why or what when Kazi and his beta looped closer to her, snarling at the intruder, the other dogs falling in line as their commander dictated.

A man. Tall, very tall, but then she was so short. Dressed in leather and armor, mostly black with splashes of green and gold. His gait suggested an imperial upbringing but there was a predatory shadow to everything he did, including his smile. Jane stopped breathing when she found his eyes. Stormy blue green and wickedly delighted. How she knew the latter, Jane did not know and didn't want to know how she knew. She stamped down the apprehension leaking into every limb.

"Take what you want. We're leaving."

"You found your freedom, you suppose." Eloquent, rich as molten chocolate and authoritative—he sounded casual; he sounded dangerous. Jane swallowed.

"I, I will offer you no trouble. They won't attack unless I say so, so back off and we'll leave in peace." Green flames blundered up the hill, licking at the sides of buildings, finding them to its liking as it consumed and consumed and consumed as it worked its way up the hill. The rising heat made her sweat while the rising smoke stung her lungs. Jane coughed.

"Look it's dangerous to stay."

"Danger did not stop you before."

Jane squinted at the man, the smoke now getting into her eyes as the fire got closer. "I don't know—"

"You did call me by a different name and I wore a different body then, but I assure you I am one and the same." He ignored the snarling canines, as is five large threatening dogs could do him no harm. Jane hoped he was merely foolish and not confident within reason. She backpedaled slowly to the rear entrance, the dogs reading her motions and stepping in time with her but always guarding. Baldur advanced when the man got to close, running up and snapping at his calves. His opponent was quick as a whistle, leaping precisely and kicking the dog back. Baldur whined, hobbling and leaning into his ribs.

"No!" Jane shouted but the damage was done. Her pack, her family, charged to defend their fallen comrade. His face showed monstrous delight in hurting her dogs. Jane made to run past him, aiming for Kazi but his fingers latched onto her bicep and no amount of struggling loosened his grip.

"Let go!"

He laughed at her attempts. "You'll find it's not so easy to escape me in this form. Though I am still impressed how well your body can turn in tight spaces." He hinted at an answer Jane was terrified to verify. One of her hands slapped his open check. The impact stung her palm but Jane scowled at him.

"I told you not to hurt them. Go away!"

He flexed his jaw. "Still full of surprises. Oh, I like you. I'll like you very much, I think. But I'd prefer you to call me my real name and not 'torch'." He smiled at her, all teeth, all unnaturally sharp. "Loki. Call me Loki."

Fear curdled inside her stomach and Jane felt sick. "What?"

The man sighed, releasing her arm and made his way to the horse's stalls. He reached for an apple, relishing its crisp taste. Jane ran immediately for Kazi, the dog struggling to stand and defend its caretaker, its true master. "I know you're smarter than this. Surely you've put the pieces together." Jane hugged her dog close.

"You're Kaunaz? You, You're the beast? But, why…?" Jane shook her head negatively. "Fine, you have your freedom. Take it and go. Leave us alone."

Loki swallowed the last bite, tossing the core over his shoulder. "Jane. Jane, Jane, Jane. Your people did a disservice—a cruelty—to me. Don't you think I deserve recompense?"

"You're burning the city to the ground! Probably killed half a dozen, may be more, people in the process. Revenge was yours." Jane now stood in front of her dogs, trying in vain to protect them from this beast-turned man. Loyal to their bones, the dogs croaked out growls and barks and vain threats with each step he took. Jane grew panicked the closer she got, claustrophobic distress darkening the edges of her vision.
"Wait, wait, wait! If this is all you wanted, then, then why tolerate me at all? Why bother?" Wounded as they were, Jane herded them to the back exit, slipping them out as she distracted this predator. Only the alpha remained and he would not, would never leave her. Loki bore a cruel smirk that edged into a shark's grin. He acted flippantly, as if the smoke were not rising and the fire not burning. Jane fought for clarity in a haze.
"Truly, I cared not for you. Not in the beginning but healing takes time and I needed time. You accelerated that process with your kindness. I must thank you for that. If not for you, I could not have accomplished this." He swept his arms wide. He liked to gloat, monologue. Good. That gave Jane time to stall, to get away. She shifted closer to the door. "At least, not this soon. After that, I suppose you became a curiosity." With a lovely, berceuse for a voice. A voice that should sing to me every night. Yes, Loki liked that idea. He moved quick enough to grab her, eliciting a startled yelp from her, eyes wide and wary. Her fear smelled divine. The dog made to move but even through her fear Jane cared for her dogs and commanded his restraint. Loki pulled her close, almost touching, almost hugging her. "After that, you became mine. I find that fair recompense for your people's trespasses, don't you?"

Jane dug deep for courage, more like foolishness, and hissed at this man-beast creature. "I did not trade one collar for another."
"Oh, Jane. What makes you think you have a choice?" He forgot she was naturally left-handed. It found the knife from her sack and the blade whistled by his throat, leaving a bloody mess. Loki roared his displeasure. Canine and human bolted, neither wishing to stay and see what new ways his ire expressed itself when pushed. Loki pressed a hand to the would, feeling the blood pump out with each heartbeat.
That mere mortal kept getting the drop on him and his insides oscillated between attraction and rage. The latter colored his timbre when he bellowed out the human's name, a howl that clamored with his magic sending the green flames hotter and higher. Loki bared his teeth, feeling them elongate and the cramping spasm as his bones shifted. Prior to the change his hand sizzled with magic, healing the cut but leaving his hand sticky with blood. His face shifted and grew out at his mouth and nose, a half muzzle speckled with fur. All his dark hair shuddered into white and grey where only thin wisps of black remained and his eyes blazed with magic and fury. Jane's name snarled into a howl, a call for the hunt, and down in the city, Jane begged her feet to go faster.

.