Disclaimer: I do not own Terrier.

Beka's POV:

"Would anybody like some more cheese?" Phelan held out a wheel of fresh cheese for our morning breakfast. Almost everyone sitting around the circle raised their hands.

As Phelan passed cheese slices around, he kept his eyes on me. I looked back, with an expression demanding he tell me what he finds so interesting. Finally he shook his head and explained, "Hey, Beka, have you ever gone out with a rusher?"

I froze, my smile disappearing from my face. Rosto whipped his head around, watching my expression closely. Ersken dropped the drink he was holding and told Phelan, "Look, back off. This is a really touchy subject with our Beka…."

Kora looked back at me, obviously interested in my answer. When she saw my expression, she sighed, saying, "Look, it's not that important. We all know she's our friend through and through! So just drop it."

I smiled in appreciation towards Kora, and she smiled back, winking. Aniki, who sat right beside me, put an arm around my shoulders. I can't believe I found such good friends here.

"No," said Rosto, still watching me carefully. "I want to know."

Aniki dropped her arm from my shoulders, glaring at Rosto. I could tell she mouthed something, but I wasn't paying enough attention to see what it was. Instead I stared straight ahead.

"No." My voice was expressionless and slightly cold as I answered the initial question. I knew it shouldn't be that big of a deal, but ever since this topic came up, an image of my mom after her husband left her has been in my mind's eye.

Silence settled over the table. No one really wanted to add to the subject after hearing the tone in my voice. I saw Ersken open his mouth, hopefully to change the subject, but he was interrupted by Rosto.

"Why?" he demanded, eyes cold. I knew he wouldn't drop this until he got an answer. I felt my hand close into a cold fist.

"Because," I began, shaking slightly. Some part of me knew that they had a right to know, and that I had bottled this up for far too long. I continued, "Because, when I was eight years old and living in the Cesspool, my mother was married to a rusher. I thought they loved each other with all their hearts, but I was wrong. He discovered she had lung rot, so he beat her and stole everything we had of value. Then he abandoned us, leaving my mother behind with two black eyes and blood trickling from her mouth. I never forgave him. I hunted him down, found the hideout him and his gang were at, and handed them over to Lord Gershom."

I stared straight ahead, not entirely wanting to see their reactions. I knew my eyes must look like pools of ice; such was my anger at the memory.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, to comfort me, but I shook it off. Standing, I ran out of the courtyard where we were having lunch, into the street. Pigeons flocked to me as soon I stepped into an alleyway pretty far from our lodging house. I sat down against the wall, hearing the whispered voices surround me. I listened intently to help take my mind off my troubles.

I was down by the river, and then…

Mama? I brung you the bread…

I didn't even see him coming, must've been an assassin or sommat…

I drank in the information, letting my mind focus on deciphering what my birdies were saying. I couldn't concentrate that well, though. Every time a bird mentioned an abusive husband, my mind turned back to my mother and the previous conversation.

I heard a rock tumble down the alley, waking me from my reverie. I looked up quickly, startled to see three rough looking men surrounding me. Cursing, I rose to my feet, mentally reprimanding myself for not hearing their approach. I didn't have my whistle or baton, either. I'd left both back at my room.

"Well, yer a pretty mot. You'll do." One rusher stepped forward, grinning wickedly at me.

"'Eh, check 'er for loot," another one grunted, nudging the leader with a smirk.

Fear rooted itself in my mind. I opened my mouth to warn them that I was a dog, and they'd best not hurt me, but no sound would come out. Curse my wretched shyness.

I merely looked at the ground, trying to think of a way out of this. Nothing came to mind. It was three against one. I might have been able to take them with a uniform on my back and a baton in my hand, but now I was just an unarmed Beka Cooper.

He grabbed my throat with one hand and started searching my clothes with the other. With the feel of his rough hand at my throat, I finally reacted, if only for survival.

"You'd best not hurt me. I'm a Dog."

The man searching me laughed, saying, "An' how many times have we heard that one? 'Oh, don't hurt me, I'm a dog', or 'I'm related to the King, back off'."

Anger surged through me. I lashed out, kicking him hard down low. He released me, doubling over. The other two snarled in fury, lunging forward. I fought, but the two of them managed to pin my arms behind my back. I pulled my foot back to start kicking again, but froze at the feel of cold steel on my neck.

The leader had come back on his feet, his face strained in a grimace. "None of that, now. Don't move or I'll slit yer throat an' search your dead body."

I stood perfectly still, breathing ragged. I new if I took him down, it was only a matter of time before the other two pulled out blades and killed me for the trouble. He grinned, whispering, "Now that's a good dox—"

He was interrupted by a roar of rage and a blow to the face. When he flew backward, the blade knocked my jaw hard. I fell to the ground, trying to recover my breath and figure out what just happened. When I looked up, I saw Rosto fighting the two remaining thugs. He had two blades; one in each hand. The two rushers only had one blade each, but they still outnumbered him.

I saw the silver flash, slicing through the air as they fought. Rosto was pushing them back towards the wall, but the leader was getting back up. I knew I had to do something.

Steadying myself, I stood to my feet and tackled the standing leader, slamming him back onto the ground. His head hit the rocks, and I saw his eyes roll back in his head as he went limp.

Standing, I turned to see one of the rushers slip behind Rosto while he was concentrating on the other. He raised his knife, bringing it hilt down in a slashing motion towards Rosto's skull. I leapt forward, grabbing his wrist moments before impact.

I was strong, but not strong enough to halt it completely. The knife came down with considerably less force then before on my collarbone. I heard something crack, and I cried out in pain.

The rusher took advantage of the distraction and tore his wrist out of my grip. He grinned wolfishly at me as I swayed with a new wave of pain. I tried to move into a fighting pose, but felt tears prick my eyes as I did so. I was saved trying to fight by a knife the whistled through the air and landed in the thief's chest.

I swayed harder, suddenly feeling nauseous. I fell backward, just wanting to lie down for a little while. I felt warm hands catch me before I hit the ground, and I looked up at Rosto. He lifted me up back into a standing position, but still had to hold me upright so I'd stay. He looked me in the eyes, and said urgently, "Are you alright?"

"Yah," I managed to say. "You can let me go—I'm not some helpless princess."

He obediently let me go, and I clenched my teeth in pain. He looked at the strain on my face and snarled, "I'm going to make these sarden rushers wish they never, ever messed with you."

I was about to protest until I looked into his coal black eyes and saw the anger there. I looked down and rasped, "I'm going to go back to the lodging house. I was a fool to leave without any weapon, or at least Pounce."

He nodded, and watched me take a step forward. When I did, I felt a fresh wave of pain wash over me and my legs give out. Rosto caught me, this time picking me up and carrying me bridal style. I opened my mouth to complain, but he cut me off with, "You're not in any condition to try and walk back."

"But what about them?" I whispered, resigning myself to be carried. It actually felt kind of nice knowing someone cared enough to want to carry me back.

Rosto glanced back at the rushers and whispered, "I've memorized they're faces. If they ever show themselves at my Court, they'll regret it."

I nodded, letting my head fall back on his shoulder. He began to walk back towards the lodging house, taking care not to jostle me too much. We stayed in silence for most of the walk, but closer to the house he finally said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For poking my nose where it doesn't belong. I shouldn't have pushed you to answer that question of why you hadn't gotten involved with a rusher." He looked sincere, so I smiled up at him.

"Did Koran d Aniki set you up to say that?" I asked, a smile tugging at my mouth.

He pouted, saying, "How did you guess?" Face turning somber again, he said, "They pushed me to go after you, but it was my choice to apologize."

"Wow. With a little more work, we'll have you trained good." He smiled down at me with a look that clearly read, 'You wish'. He stopped walking, looking indecisive as he gazed at me, before he leaned down and kissed me. I felt a tingling sensation wash over my body, but I ignored it, pulling my head down and breaking the kiss. I looked at him and whispered, "Didn't you hear a word I said before? I don't want to get involved, Rosto."

"Please," he whispered, "just give me a chance. I won't be like your father."

I looked into his eyes, knowing I should say no. Instead, I found myself murmuring, "One chance. You only get one chance."

He grinned, an honest grin, as he continued walking. "You won't regret it."

Author's Note:

Wow, done another one. This should keep people happy for a while; I might not be able to update as quick when school starts again. I think I've done pretty good in my campaign for more Terrier stories.

Was it confusing at all? I tried my best to make it clear, but I'm not sure if I succeeded. Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!

Padfoot