A Quick Foreword:

This story is a sequel to the original Learning, and is thusly set in an expanded version of Sonic SatAM lore. There are some very, very light instances of characters borrowed from outside of the SatAM canon, as well as a heavy dose of original content. There will be political themes, though I don't intend for this to be a political drama. There will be romance, though I don't intend on this to be a romance fic, and there will be violence though I don't intend it to be violent etc. It's just me escaping to my own little world and exorcising my demons, which of course you're welcome to partake in as well, if you consider it worth your time.

Newcomers to this story will probably be able to figure out the background as they go, but to best understand the context of this fable I'd highly recommend reading The Learning first, which is available in its entirety in PDF form at this location:

sandandmercury-net/satam/thelearning-pdf

(You'll have to replace the dashes with full-stops, seems the website doesn't allow hyperlinking in story texts. You can also read the original here on ffnet, though it is an obsolete version with the last chapter missing)

With some (temporary) time off work at the moment, I'm in a happy position to sink a great deal of time into continuing this, so I'd like to welcome your feedback! I'm very grateful for all the encouragement and constructive criticism people offered when I published the original Learning which has left me feeling like the whole experience was worthwhile and something to be proud of.

I'd also like to extend a grateful acknowledgement to DeborahHedgehog of the Saturday Morning Sonic forums, for her support and inspiring me to revisit this universe. Happy reading!

~ SALVATION ~

The Learning, Part II

-= Day Zero, Part One =-

I. To Peace and Unity

Present day. Seven years after the war. Eighteen years after the coup.

"It's not the weather in itself that bothers me," Nicole, Queen of Mobius South, spoke as she strode down the halls of the now-refurbished Castle Acorn.

"May I ask what it is then, that bothers you?" The coyote at her side asked. His name was Antoine Depardieu, Captain of the Royal Guard.

"It bothers me that everyone seems to take it as some kind of omen. It seems there is an air of doom hanging over my head now. People are thinking that my announcement today will signal the end of the world as we know it. It won't be that way."

"For all our sakes, I am hoping not." He gazed at the floor absently as he walked, looking at his own reflection in the marble, plucking at the buttons on his uniform.

Nicole stopped and looked at him with a smirk. "Are you doubting me?"

"Wha?" Antoine shot up ramrod straight, and saluted her. "No, no your Highness. Not at all. I am having nothing but the most absolute faith in your abilities to-"

"Hah!" She clapped him on the back, with a giggle. "Your accent comes out every time you're worried about me, Antoine."

Antoine smiled weakly. "You remind me so much of the princess, sometimes, your Highness."

She rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled, saying nothing. Then she turned and kept walking, towards the Council Chamber. "Just have a little faith in me. In seven years, I haven't disappointed you, have I?"

The coyote stood for a moment and looked on after her. Her regal, purple summer attire flowing like water around her shoulders as she walked. A meter of jet black hair trailing behind as if to defy the laws of gravity. For an android, in the form of a feline, there was no doubt about her beauty. It was strange to him to think, that as he'd grown older, she had stayed the same. Maybe he'd grow old and grey one day, and she'd still be the same.

Outside, the sky was the shade of slate, Mobius South pine trees swaying violently in the near gale-force winds, under a ceaseless barrage of rain. He remembered, that every tumultuous period in his life had seemed to start with a storm. Be it from the clouds and the rain, or a hail of laser fire from an army of SWATbots. Always a storm.

They stopped at the door, and Nicole gave him a nod as she entered. Antoine turned and stood at the door, ever watchful.

A mile away, a solitary figure cut a path through the pouring rain.

Tough leather boots pounding hard, slippery concrete. Gauging the distance to the next jump. Ten meters. Two meters. Jump.

He vaulted through the air. One more building down. The city lights of Mobotropolis appeared and disappeared below. He watched the droplets of rain smacking and shattering against his legs in slow motion as a flash of lightning exploded across the sky. The next rooftop came up fast. He hit the concrete hard and fast, rolled and hopped over an air conditioning unit, kept running. The dome of Castle Acorn loomed - just a few more minutes, and he'd be there.

He pulled his leather hood down tight around his face, and readied himself for the next jump. He lunged, and the ground beneath his feet disappeared again. He held out his hands and found the sturdy pole of a clothesline - and he swung, vaulted again. Started running again. Almost there.

The tiny speaker in his ear crackled to life, barely audible above the howling wind. "You close yet?"

"Close," he growled. But he was pushing it. "Are they under the dome?"

"Should be," the voice said again. He pushed his finger to his earpiece, trying to block out the cacophony of the storm around him. "That's the Council Chamber. You need to hurry up, you're almost out of time."

"I know." He hadn't counted on the rain restricting his movement so much. He knew he was pushing it, but if he didn't let up, he'd make it.

As he ran, he remembered. Snippets of old memories about this city, from the glory days, hammered into his head. The place had changed a lot. But there was no time to think about that.

He reached for his leg holsters, with each hand, producing a grappling hook in one hand and a crescent-shaped dagger in the other. There was one thing to do. And that was what he'd do.

No time.

When Nicole entered the council chamber, they were already waiting for her. She sat down gingerly at the end of the table, running a brief diagnostic on each of them.

SUBJECT 1: IDENTITY CONFIRMED: LORD CHRISTOF - BROTHERHOOD OF THAMAEL - 26TH & CURR. GRANDMASTER: SPECIES GOAT

SUBJECT 2: UNKNOWN: UNIFORM INDICATES BROTHERHOOD OF THAMAEL: SPECIES BOAR

SUBJECT 3: UNKNOWN: UNIFORM INDICATES BROTHERHOOD OF THAMAEL: SPECIES RACCOON

"Lovely day for it, wouldn't you say?" Christof said from his seat.

Like his two companions, he donned a suit of impeccably crafted black leather armour, the breast bearing the six-pointed star of the Brotherhood of Thamael. He'd let his beard grow long, white and wispy. The circles under his eyes were deeper these days than ever, but his gaze held sharp and strong.

"It's an unusual Summer," Nicole laughed. "It used to be worse, before we had the canals built."

The goat smiled. "I'll never get used to this weather you have down here in the 'South." He reached out and picked up a mug of Mobotropilan Mead, a recipe only recently recovered from the old castle archives, and took a hearty sip. "I don't mean to be rude, your Highness, but I'd like to get through this quickly. I haven't budgeted to be here very long, and I'm short on time. So, to the pressing issue."

Nicole nodded. "The treaty."

A single scroll of paper sat in the middle of the table, an inkwell placed next to it.

Nicole looked at the scroll. Christof looked at Nicole. Christof's two assistants looked at each other.

"Have you read the treaty?" Nicole asked.

Christof took another sip of the mead. "I've gone over it multiple times now. It's certainly been a long time coming, my friend."

"Nearly twenty years..." she whispered. A lot had happened in twenty years. A lot of dead buried. "And though it's from before my time, I understand what's happened with our two nations in the past. And I understand if you have some trepidation about any permanent agreements here."

Christof nodded. "It's been... hard, my friend. Very, very hard. The war ten years ago strained things even more, but I know how it all happened. I was there when Naugus came through, and I know it was only thanks to you and yours that we're not all united as slaves under his rule. But..." He leaned back, and sighed. "There's also people on my side of the Great Unknown who don't see things that way. Some who just don't want to let the past go. The Acorn Empire still strikes a bad chord in Trema, I'm sorry to say."

Nicole listened carefully, sitting still. "Yes, that's true. That's one of the reasons for another action I'll be taking. If I may announce the signing of this treaty tonight, I'll also be making another announcement."

The Lord of the Brotherhood raised an eyebrow curiously. "Which is?"

Nicole produced another scroll from the folder in front of her, bearing the royal seal. She slid it over to him.

He held it up, and read carefully, a few times over - it was only a few lines long.

He set it down carefully. "Are you... serious?"

"What does it say?" one of Christof's assistants asked.

Christof turned around slowly. "It says, as of tonight, the Acorn empire will be abolished."

Nicole smiled. "The Monarchy of Mobius South will become the Republic of Mobius South. My title as Queen will default to that of Prime Minister. My term will run three more years, and then I will step down."

"Don't you have a legacy to uphold?" Christof took another swig of mead, and sat the empty mug on the table.

"Any leadership must have regular succession, otherwise the inevitable result will be stagnation. The Acorn bloodline ended with Sally. I'm also aware of the negative connotation the Acorn name has with the North. I'd like this to be a gesture of good faith towards both the North and South. And maybe, one day..." She gave a wistful sigh. "The single nation and continent of Mobius?"

The attire of the Brotherhood that Christof wore, as well as his manner of speaking, had long led many to believe he was a devil wearing goat's skin. But she knew better, after Sonic had told her. Her mouth twitched a bit with the thought of the hedgehog, as it had so many times before. Where could he be, these days?

"I like the sound of that," the goat said, giving a light nod.

Nicole smiled and leaned forward to take the treaty from the table. "I like the sound of it too."

The hooded figure struck the side of the dome with both feet, dangling precariously by the grappling rope. Arm over arm, he hauled himself up, gritting his teeth against the rain.

He hauled himself up onto the window sill, retracting the hook back into the hand cannon, and peered through the stained glass. "I see them," he said. Four figures, three on one side, one on the other. Queen Nicole, Lord Christof. Excellent. He wiped the sharp blade against his leg. Pulled the hood down. Quick, clean, efficient. He knew what to do. He reached for the lever to open the window.

But there wasn't one. The glass was a foot thick, weather-proof, and set in permanently as part of the structure, just as strong as the ages old brick and mortar that surrounded it.

He took a deep breath. Don't panic. Just punch through the glass. This was his last chance to stop everything. He heaved, hanging off the edge of the window, and swung his fist at the glass as hard as he could.

Thunk. Just a dull crack. And it wasn't from the glass.

It took a second before the pain registered. "Aaaaaaagh!" he bit down to cut his scream short, holding onto his shattered wrist.

He turned back to the whipping wind and relentless rain. Took a deep breath. Then another. He looked down. There was no way to do this quietly.

He shakily took the grappling hook out of its holster again, holding both the blade and it in the same hand. Fired a shot above, catching in between two of the hard tiles, and rappelled down the side.

He spied a window below, and vaulted off the side of the building as hard as he could. The window came up fast.

The glass here shattered into a million pieces as he tumbled through, and rolled clumsily to his feet. He'd lost his grace; his arm felt like it was on fire, and the sock of the injury was making his whole body shiver. He did a quick head-check, keeping his hood low over his face; the door to the council chamber had been sealed shut with a steel rod. A royal guard he recognised was in the corner unconscious, bound and gagged.

No time.

Nicole signed her name on the line, and passed the scroll across to Christof.

He pressed the pen to the page, pausing to take a final look at the Queen of the Acorn Empire. "To twenty more years. Of peace..."

"And Unity."

One of Christof's assistants leaned over to speak into his ear. "Not quite."

"Sorry?" Christof turned to look at him.

A blade slid through his ribs from behind. Twisted in his gut. Turned. Wrenched the other way.

"Christof!" Nicole screamed, leaping up onto the table. But the boar was quick as lightning, tackling her clean off the table to crash into one of the large potted plants behind.

Christof looked on at the scene with bewildered surprise, lowering his gaze down to the blade, donning the Brotherhood insignia, which was now protruding awkwardly out the front of his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out - just a great big gout of blood. He slumped over onto the table, a dark pool spreading out across the polished marble.

"Get off me!" Nicole growled through gritted teeth. She strained and twisted, forcing as much strength as she could into every muscle, but the boar was at least twice her size, and had pinned her fast.

Another blade pressed against the boar's throat from behind, and slit it clean open, the gushing wound saturating Nicole with deep crimson. In the space of ten seconds, the mood had gone from that of a cordial meeting to a slaughterhouse.

The raccoon that had just slain his comrade pulled the corpse off of her, and reached out his hand. "Get up. Quickly."

Nicole took it shakily as he helped her to his feet. "Why did he kill him?" She looked at the boar's prone corpse, fresh torrents of red still pouring from his throat and spreading out across the tiles. Her android brain was working in overdrive, synthetic muscles pumping with adrenalin.

The raccoon looked at her in silence.

"What on Mobius is going on!" she screamed.

He frowned. "I'm sorry, your highness, but it simply had to happen. For the Brotherhood." He took the sword at his side, and brought it to his chest, edging the tip of it in between the two panels of his breast plate. "Xul, take us!"

"No!" Nicole shouted again, lunging forward, but he'd already driven it clean through. He looked at her for a brief, eternal second, before he slumped lifelessly to rest at her feet.

Behind her, the doors burst open. A tall figure stood there, panting, face obscured by his thick black cloak and hood, a crescent-shaped push dagger at his side.

No, he thought. No. No. No.

Nicole instinctively backed up, reaching for the raccoon's body to pull the blade from his chest. If this one was here to take her life as well, he wouldn't be getting it without a fight.

The queen of Mobius South dug her rear foot in, ready to strike. She took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly. "Show me your face."

The intruder slowly raised a hand to the side of his hood, but stopped half way up. He shook his head, sliding the blade back into its pouch on his leg, turned quickly back to the hall.

"Hey!" the Queen shouted out after the shadow, sprinting forward.

The dark shape took a flying leap at the wall opposite the window, grabbing fast onto one of the empty sconces, and prepared to leap across to the other side, where the rain and wind was now pouring in through a shattered window. He turned to look at her, face still obscured by the dark and the hood, before he vanished from sight.

"Sorry," he said.

Before she could think again, the heavy wooden doors at the opposite end of the hall burst open, a contingent of Castle Acorn guards scrambling through, rifles at the ready.

"Your highness!" the one in the lead, Captain Viktor of the second Guard, lowered his rifle and gasped quietly as he lowered his weapon. "By... the... gods."

Nicole dropped the blade at her side and wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the wall, shaking and shocked, eyes like saucers.

Christof, leader of Mobius North, lay fallen behind her, eviscerated, with one hand over the peace treaty he had come to sign, with his two compatriots dead right next to him.

And there stood Queen Nicole of the Acorn empire right before the carnage, Brotherhood longblade by her feet, soaked through to the skin with their blood.

II. Come By, You Have Come Far

Two years earlier.

Miles 'Tails' Prower leaned back in his chair, looking out over the patio balcony to the mountains of the Duruga landscape. Everything was lush, organic, alien. The tavern's patio overlooked an enormous chasm framed at both sides by the mountain ranges that streched above and below, dwarving every other structure and instilling him with both a dissonant sense of impunity and empowerment. The clouds drifted in layers through the enormous space - the light from the hundreds tiny huts beneath the purple sky of twilight reflecting quietly on the water.

He took a quick glance at his journal, sitting open on the table, an empty glass sitting next to it. It simply read:

5th year. 44th day.

Been three months since Marr went back home. About three years since Sonic left. No food, not much money.

Pressing a pen to the page, he held it there a moment, and lifted it away when he heard a door creaking open inside. He wasn't fond of the idea of recording his thoughts in a place where someone could simply look over his shoulder and be privy to it.

Of course, they wouldn't be able to even understand the language. But even so... you never knew, what others might know.

The steps came closer, outside. One of the barmaids.

"Muh m'ghana?" she said.

Tails stared for a while, yawning. He'd heard the phrase. What did it mean? "Sorry?" he said, reflexively. Old habits died hard.

She sighed exasperatedly, picking up the empty glass in front of him pointing to it. "M'ghana," she said. "Muh m'ghana?"

Oh. Right. He scrounged through his pockets of his dirty black pants, pulling out a handful of wooden coins, and holding them out to her with his palm. The maid took what she needed and was back a few moments later with a new sweaty glass full ice-cold... whatever it was. It tasted fruity and bitter as it went down, sparking a dull ache and buzz in the back of his neck. The folks out here in Duruga were different breed to those in the Mobian continent. Shorter, darker-coloured, stockier, less friendly. The local tongues and dialects seemed to change with every settlement he visited, so he'd long since given up hope of learning enough to get him by in his travels.

And after five years since leaving the continent of Mobius... he'd been everywhere. And found nothing - just lost his friends and gotten older, crankier, and tougher. Was he to give up? Would there perhaps be a friendly Brotherhood ship still docked at the harbour where they'd touched down all that time ago, with Marr and Sonic waiting patiently and longingly for his return?

Fat chance.

Not much else to do but keep walking, keep looking, keep charting and recording what he came across along the way. Maybe one day, he'd find himself sitting on the doorstep of his ancestral home, and find a place where he could belong... or at least subsist, long enough to get himself together again, and get ready to find his real home.

The sun had almost set. It was time to get moving - travel seemed to work out better at night, here; the populace were well-built, but along with the fauna, their eyesight was apparently not much to root for. That put Tails in a good position, with his kitsune night vision, to make his way along the dirt roads unperturbed for the most part. Even though he had failed to find any accomodation for the last few days, and thus had not slept for at least seventy-two hours.

He picked the journal up and closed it, and slipped it into his pack. When he stood up, he realised a picture had fallen out of it.

It was a holograph of Marr - the lynx from the Brotherhood back in Mobius North, his tutor, his friend, his...

Tails frowned. He pulled the journal back out and opened it to the last entry's page, and wrote one more line:

Still hurts. Miss home.

He tossed back the last of his beverage, picked up his things and began moving. He was sick to the stomach with hunger but he didn't have enough money to afford a full meal; he consoled himself with the thought that he'd probably be able to pick some of the exotic fruits around the place as he moved. He hadn't seen any of those, now that he thought about it, for quite a few days; the only plentiful kind was some bright blue berries that grew in these parts. And he'd resorted to them enough times to know that they were not worth the severe indigestion and queasiness that they brought for the sake of a meal.

The the air was fresh and moist on the street, not so thick with the tobacco smoke of the tavern. The night had almost fallen but the cluttered streets were still rife with moving bodies of all colours; a cart rolled past him amongst the crowd, carrying a load of bread loaves and tied down only loosely with a sheet of rough staw cloth.

As it passed, he reached out a hand to brush against some of the stock. His clothes were thick and loose, so it would be simple to-

No.

He pulled his hand back, and shoved it back into his pocket. He'd lost enough already on this expedition... his pride and dignity were still intact, and they were worth hanging on to. At least, so far. Looking up, he saw all the hard-set eyes looking at him as he walked, to confirm he'd made a smart choice by refraining - the village was large enough that nary one would recognise another, but even so, it was obvious to these people that he was a stranger.

The clamour and chatter around him began to soften as he neared the outskirts. Which was probably why it was so easy for him to pick out when someone was speaking the Mobian language. It was just a muffled murmur coming from inside one of the cabins. He stopped in the street, not turning his head, to listen. He could pick out some of the common Mobian words. Perhaps it would've been best to keep going. But this was the first instance of someone speaking the same words as he that he'd experienced in nearly a year. Seemed worth checking out.

The house was made of mudbrick, and two floors high; he noted that this was a fair amount larger than the rest. Obviously, it belonged to someone of above-average circumstances. He slowly walked to the door, and gave three quick raps. He waited, and heard the murmuring stop. The light under the door went dark for a moment as a figure came in behind it, and he spied an eye peering through the keyhole.

Then the lights shifted bright again, and he heard the steps moving off, and the talks continuing.

He stepped back, and looked down at himself. He was filthy and he stank of days' worth of accumulated sweat and grease.

I must look like a beggar straight off the street.

He thought for a moment.

I am a beggar straight off the street.

It was worth another try. He strolled up to the door again, and gave the door three firm bangs. "Could I please have a moment of your time? I don't mean to intrude," he said through the door. "I won't trouble you long."

The door creaked open. He saw one green eye peering through the crack, belonging to a badger, old and quite a bit shorter than he. "You speak the tongue..."

"I'm a little lost," Tails said, as curtly as possible. "I'm here from across the ocean."

The badger pulled the door open with a faint trace of resignation. "Come in." His voice was quiet and wheezy, like he'd spent the majority of his life with a set of lungs filled with smoke and his larynx had shrivelled like a prune.

"Thank you," he said, stepping in and feeling a little self-conscious to offer his hand in the grotty condition it was in. "I'm sorry to impose on you... but you're the first voice I've heard in a language I know in a long while..."

"Yo!" a voice called from down the hall. "Hey, Morris! Who you got out there?"

Tails froze. That voice. It sounded a little different, a bit weathered. But there was no mistaking it.

"Sonic?" he called out.

He heard the whirlwind of a spin-dash charging up - and a split second later, he was looking at Sonic, along with a pile of loose books and sheets of paper that tumbled off one of the shelves in his wake.

They stared each other up and down for a moment, each feeling a mix of surprise, joy and consternation. Tails had thought about what it would be like to actually see Sonic again after such a long time of being apart. He'd figured it would be pretty much like this.

"Dang, bro." Sonic finally said, scratching behind one ear. "You could use a scrub-down."

It felt strange to be out of his clothes again after all these years.

When he was just the kit of Knothole, he'd never given it a second thought. None of the Freedom Fighters had bothered much in the way of clothes in the coup days, before they'd come of age. As she'd gotten older, Sally had taken to wearing a vest, and Bunnie and Antoine both took after their late parents' dress customs, but that was about the extent of it. There was nothing vulgar about the appearance of a Mobian sans clothes, but among adult Mobians, it had been something of a sign of social inferiority - as if some may not wear clothes because they did not care for looking decent, or worse - they had not made enough of themselves to afford a set.

But Tails only had one outfit, which was now soaking in a vat of hot, disinfected water. The facilities in this house were quaint and basic, but effective and well-maintained. He certainly felt a lot more fresh, physically and mentally, now that he'd had some time to bathe, but when he stepped out from the bathroom, he walked meekly, wincing at the sound of his naked feet padding on the wooden floorboards.

There was a steaming bowl of soup waiting for him when he entered the lounge.

"Feeling better, big guy?" Sonic asked.

"Mm." Tails sat down in front of the soup, his nose twitching. He'd intended on being polite by waiting a while before he began eating, but the smell was driving him insane. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if I caught your name," he said to the badger. "Was it Morris?"

"Morragannahnun," he whispered, nodding slightly. "You don't need to hold back, boy. You look famished." He knew his way around the Mobian dialect, but his Duraga accent was thick in every word.

Tails bowed his head. "I'm very grateful for your hospitality..." He paused for a moment, trying to wrap his tongue around the name. "...sir," he finished.

"And that's why I call him Morris," Sonic chuckled.

Tails took a spoon full of the soup, and indulged in a gentle sip. Then another. His stomach growled with anticipation. He upended the bowl, gulping down great big mouthfuls. It was delicious... something was so familiar about the taste - the way it scorched the roof of his mouth as it went down. Chilli... must've been Sonic's contribution to the recipe. He wolfed it down madly, letting little bits slip out the sides and dribble down his chin.

He put the empty bowl down, realising what he'd done, and shrank back in his seat. "Sorry."

"Why?" Sonic said. "He puts up with those manners from me every day, man!"

The old badger gave a quiet laugh. "That is true." He looked genuine about his amusement, but he also looked tired and strained. If Sonic was living with this fellow, he'd probably end up pushing him into cardiac arrest at some point. "So, this is the boy you were talking about?" he asked, looking to Sonic. "He doesn't look like much of a boy anymore."

The hedgehog gave Tails a quick glance and smirked. "Guess he ain't."

"You didn't tell me he was a kitsune."

Tails frowned.

"Well..." Sonic shifted his gaze between the badger and the vulpine, cupping his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. "I didn't think it mattered..."

"Is there some reason that it should?" Tails asked, feeling the hair on his arms bristling slightly.

"Nothing against you, friend," Morris said. "But your kind are not well-liked around Duruga. They are sophisticated savages. They are brutal, exclusive and racist. But intelligent and extremely talented also, mind you."

Tails' ears pricked up. "There are more kitsune here...!"

Morris smiled sadly. "Oh, dear. No one's told you anything, have they?"

The kitsune shrugged. "Where do they live?"

Sonic leaned back, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Are you intending to make contact with them?" Morris asked, looking over the rims of his reading glasses.

The way he'd asked seemed to explain all the looks that Tails had been getting from the villagers as he'd been travelling. It occurred now that as he'd headed towards the north-east, the reception from others had been increasingly chilly; when he spoke politely and in Mobian, their hostility simmered to mere mild annoyance. Perhaps they had picked up on the vibe that Tails was not one who'd been brought up with the ways of his kind.

Nevertheless, it was now clear, it was not just a reaction steeped in natural xenophobia. They were afraid. Of him.

Tails inclined his head. "That's the reason I came to this continent. I needed to know I'm not the last of my kind." He felt himself becoming increasingly giddy with the revelation. "I can't believe it..."

The badger smiled politely. "Well, now you know."

"Where are they?" he asked again.

"Why don't we discuss this more in the morning? You look tired. Why not get some sleep?" Morris awkwardly got to his feet, and began to make for one of the doors. "I will see you both tomorrow."

"'Night, Morris," Sonic waved. Once the badger was gone from sight, Sonic looked back at Tails. "I'll get you a bed set up, man. But I wanna grab a brew and get some air first. Come with me."

Tails followed his old friend over to the Duragan version of a refrigerator, apparently nothing more than a heavy stone box. But when Sonic hefted the lid and dismissed the resulting burst of mist with a wave of his hand, Tails saw a bright blue flame burning at the bottom.

"Is that how they keep things preserved?" he asked.

Sonic shrugged, pulling two glasses and a heavy water-skin from the box. "I guess. Some weird voodoo they do here. They light a fire that burns cold and they leave 'em to burn for a couple days." He poured the drink into both glasses, and Tails realised it was more of that 'M'ghana' drink he'd been drinking at the tavern earlier. He hadn't particularly enjoyed it... but he was licking his lips anyway.

Sonic raised his glass. "Cheers, big guy. To the old times."

Miles 'Tails' Prower felt an old grin trickle onto his face. "Cheers."

The air outside was fresher, now that the sun had set. The sky never went completely black in Duruga - the closest it would get was a deep shade of violet. A sun in the distance that had never shone on the Mobius side of the planet was barely visible, a distant, tiny flare peeking out through the haze.

"You look better without all that Brotherhood getup, you know." Sonic chuckled as he took a healthy swig of his drink. Tails looked down at himself, reminded of his nakedness. Indeed, Sonic had never developed any kind of need for wearing clothing and evidently he seemed no worse off for it.

"Is this where you've been for the past three years?" Tails said, incredulous, leaning against the mudbrick wall.

"Maybe a year or so. I did the tourist thing too."

He shook his head. "Man... you know, I nearly walked right by this place."

"So what happened to your chick?" Sonic asked.

Tails frowned. "My... chick?"

"Yeah," the hedgehog said nonchalantly. "Marr. What happened to her?"

The kitsune hung his head, staring into his pot, the pale white liquid swirling around in it. "Mm..."

Sonic looked at him. "Is she okay?"

"She left. She went home." His frown grew deeper. "Left me here."

"I'm sorry, man." He put a hand on Tails' shoulder. The fox didn't pull away or brush it off - he didn't move at all. "Hey... women, huh?"

"Yup. Women." In a sensation that came as a total surprise, Tails felt his bottom lip quivering.

"Well... you lose one, you gain another." Sonic smiled, giving him a friendly nudge.

Tails looked up at him, incensed, with a glare that made Sonic recoil. The kitsune's eyes were glowing blue - his powers were still there. All it took was the right trigger to make them flare up. "And where the hell were you in these past three years? All this time, you could've been dead, for all we knew! No goodbyes, no heads-up. Nothing. You just left!"

Sonic's smile vanished. "Yep... that's how I did it."

The kitsune's glowing blue eyes narrowed. "Friends... don't do that to friends."

The blue blur gave Tails a wayward glance, and stared at his feet - a gesture, Tails realised, that was thoroughly unfitting of Sonic. "I know, man. I laughed it off tonight, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I beat myself up over it every day dude. Every. Freakin'. Day."

Tails let that sink in, taking another swig of his liquor. The heat drained slowly from his eyes. He was starting to feel the buzz now, seeping through his arms and legs. "So why did you leave?"

"Because you were turning into a selfish little turd, that's why." Sonic said.

"Me?" Tails stammered. That one had blindsided him. "I'm not the one who decided to disappear and leave everyone else wondering where I'd gone to!"

"Yeah, well, after two years, I was gettin' itchy." Sonic growled, looking his old friend, in the eye. Looking up. "And I told you plenty of times I was sick of your crap. You know how it feels to be the third wheel? Every day?"

Tails said nothing.

"For two years?"

"Sonic..."

"Don't start with me, man." Sonic gritted his teeth. "You know, I get it. I know you two were in love and all that jazz. That's cool. But every day I'd see her change you bit by bit. You used to be cool, bro. Then one day, I woke up and I realised my old runnin' partner was gone. I'd lost the Big Guy. I'd lost Tails. Instead I was stuck with Ms. Marr of the Brotherhood and..." he raised his hands to his face to make quote marks, "Initiate Miles Prower!" He pulled a face as he said it, trying to sound as retarded as possible.

Tails bit down on his lip hard. That stung. A lot.

Maybe he was right.

All those nights, a three-piece unit. Tails and Marr curled up in one sleeping bag as the fire died down, talking theology and philosophy and whispering sweet nothings. Talking about children and picket fences and family businesses and knitting and the colours of window shutters and -

Oh, Gods.

He didn't want to cry, so he tried to let himself laugh. But he didn't laugh. He sobbed.

Again and again and again.

Sonic's features softened, watching the kid slide down against the wall to land roughly on his butt, in the damp grass. The hedgehog lifted the waterskin to pour another glass of the drink for himself, but he realised he and Tails had already finished it off. He wondered idly how long they'd been out here. Either it had been a while, or they'd been drinking very, very fast.

"Whoa, easy bro," he said, trying to loop a hand under the kitsune's arm. But he was heavy these days, all dense, wiry muscle. Heaving and quivering as he cried. "Come on, man. Get up. I'm sorry."

"I ruined everything!" Tails blurted out. "I lost you and then I lost her too! And I didn't even think about it because I was lost in some... Gods forsaken... freaking... stupid pipe dream!" He smashed a fist into the ground. "Damn it!"

Sonic knelt down next to him. "Ok, now you're just embarrassing yourself," he said. "Get up."

Tails stopped talking, looked up at the sky, and took a long, deep breath. He let it out slowly. "I'm sorry, Sonic."

"Then we both are, hey?" Sonic stood up again, and extended his hand. He was relieved to find Tails reach up and take it, staggering to his feet. He put a hand on the kitsune's shoulder again, and looked him in the eyes. The blue glow was gone - his eyes were just red now, bloodshot through the booze and the tears. "I love you, man."

"I love you too."

They hugged, picked up the two empty glasses, and staggered inside.

"How've you been?" Tails asked, plucking at his Brotherhood uniform. Here he was again, back on Mobius, in the Brotherhood Sanctuary, making small-talk with his estranged beloved, the lynx named Marr.

She smiled politely as she led him through the dark halls. "Not much has changed," she said. "Just back to my old job as librarian. It's nice to get back to the old ways, actually. It's comfortable."

The place was crowded these days. As they walked, Tails found himself brushing shoulders with other members - as he went though, they weren't just brushing past... they were shoving, giving him the strangest looks as they went. It was after a few moments he realised the passing faces seemed familiar... but he couldn't quite put his finger on who they were.

One collided with him at a good stride's pace, and violently rammed him out of the way with both arms.

"Get out of the bloody way!" she said, a rabbit. Tails slithered out of the way and went the rest of the way with his back to the wall. Marr was disappearing into the crowd fast and he had to break into an awkward jog to keep up.

"Marr! Marr, wait up, geez!" he called out. "What's up with these guys?"

Marr vanished through a door in the side, and yanked him by the arm in behind her, slamming it shut behind them. He looked around and realised he was in Marr's quarters.

"They're angry at you. They resent you," she said.

Tails blinked. "What on Mobius for?"

"For what you are. They think things were fine until you turned up on the scene. Every time you come here, you bring bad news with you."

"You've got to be kidding!" Tails scowled after her, incredulous. "So what, Naugus turning up all those years ago was my fault? By virtue of just being there?"

"All they know is, when you're gone, things are okay. When you're here, things are bad. I guess it's pretty simple when you think about it that way."

Tails' eyes began to glow blue with directionless rage, his fists clenching. "That's total nonsense... everyone in this place would be dead if it weren't for me. What a bunch of... ingrates!"

He sighed, remembering something Marr had said once:

"Do not let that fair rose in your cheeks wither..."

She'd been right then. Anger was an way of life for the confused, the damned and afraid. As Tails figured it, he was none of those things. Or at least he tried not to be.

He unclenched his fists, and breathed deep. "Whatever."

Whatever it took to keep that inner peaceful child there. Even so, he found himself seething inside.

He struggled now, to remember how he got back here, and even what he was doing here. Had he come here to see Marr again? That made sense. Idly he wondered who the crib in the corner was for.

The crib?

"Are you... babysitting?" he asked.

Marr looked over at the crib then back to Tails, and let out a mocking cackle. "Oh, no! No, that's not going to be needed for a few more months. Didn't anyone tell you I'm pregnant?"

Pregnant.

The bile in his stomach suddenly started bubbling and spitting, and the glow in his eyes began to return. "No, no one did."

You... bitch.

She'd barely even left his side, after so many years in love together. So many talks of their future together. So many times she'd told him he was the only one who'd ever matter.

You selfish, dainty little bitch.

She looked at him, beautiful and innocent. Stupid and ungrateful. Blissful and ignorant. Didn't it even occur to her how selfish she was acting? Was he really worth so little to her, that she'd throw away all that time in an instant?

"Miles? Are you okay? Wait, what are you-"

Bitch.

He reached out with both arms and grabbed her by the throat, digging his thumbs in, waiting for the life to drain out of

Everything turned white.

"Uuuuunnnhhh..."

The ceiling swam back into view again. The walls were swirling around like they were made of water. The echoes of Marr's strained, confused gasps retreated into the black cesspool of his subconscious.

"Gah!" He struggled to catch his breath, and tumbled out of the bed Sonic had made for him, staggering outside and bringing up last night's soup against the cobblestone wall. He held out an arm against the wall, and through the bleariness of his vision he saw a brief flash of blue ethereal flame flare up and curl around his forearm. Whatever this affliction was, it seemed to be playing with his powers, too.

By the gods, he'd never, ever felt so rotten in his life. The m'ghana he'd indulged in so much of last night had not seemed so formidable at the time. Now it felt like his insides were liquefying. Maybe this had all been a part of some incredibly elaborate ruse to put him through the most excruciating and unpleasant death possible.

"Are you okay, child?" He heard Morris behind him. "I see you and Sonic found the liquor supply last night."

Tails turned around, looking up at him through bloodshot eyes. "I feel like I've swallowed a bag full of razor blades!" Then he turned back and went back to dry-heaving.

"I suppose you've never been hung over before, then," the badger chuckled. "Don't fret, boy. The effects are temporary. You will feel better with some more rest." He held out a glass of water. "Take this. Drink it slowly."

The kitsune snatched the glass out of the badger's hand and gulped the lot of it down in a single swig, setting the glass down at his foot and sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to keep it all down. "Where's Sonic, then?" he finally asked.

"Inside, and he's faring no better than you. Ah, kids... no matter where you're all from, you all do the same silly things to yourselves."

A few hours later, things had stabilised somewhat. Tails now sat cross-legged in one of the chairs in Morris' living room, nibbling slowly on a loaf of bread. His stomach was still in a delicate state and his head still throbbed, but he was now at last convinced, the after-effects of alcohol were not quite as deadly as he'd first thought.

"You seemed surprised that I know your language," Morris said from across the table.

Tails nodded. "You're the first native I've heard in Duruga to speak it."

Down the hall, they could both hear Sonic's snoring - occasionally it'd stutter and stop, and he'd groan loudly from the other room, saying something about how he was never drinking again.

"It's the language of the Kitsune. I believe they took it from the continent you and your friend hail from. The people of this village call me an elder, but I'm really just a bookish old badger. I've studied many of the language of Duruga and become fluent in a good number of them."

"So what was Sonic doing here all this time?"

Morris scratched his chin, looking around to the hall. "He showed up one day in much the same manner as you. He'd been going around stealing from the stores, apparently. Every time someone would make an attempt to catch him, he'd take off - the fastest thing I've ever seen! And then everyone turned to me, to act as an interpreter.

"Once I called him out and talked him down, I suppose he wanted to atone for his actions. All he needed was someone to talk to. So for the past year he's been living here, earning his keep by doing the odd job here and there for me. All things considered, he's done well for himself."

Tails leaned back, impressed. "I think you've quite likely saved both our lives."

The old badger chuckled, and coughed. "Highly doubtful, though it's been nice to put some of all those years of research into the Kitsune tongue to the test.

"So... they're real then... and they're here..." Tails murmured, smiling to himself. "For almost the whole past decade I've wondered if I would ever find them."

"If you're referring to your kitsune kindred, I'd advise you be careful." Morris leaned over the table to find a book of matches, and pulled a pipe from his pocket to begin filling it with Duruga weed. "I'm not sure how they'd take to the sight of an outsider, even another kitsune such as yourself. Especially one with three tails."

He was aware that three tails was unusual, even for a kitsune. Most would develop two at most over the course of their lifetime. More than that number had been rumoured to be a sign of superior power and potential over others - he wondered, momentarily, if he'd possibly be greeted with increased respect or hostility as a result if he were to finally make contact with his kind.

Tails' brows lowered in thought. "What about Sonic?"

"Hah. Not advisable. If he sticks close by you, and they accept you... they'll probably put him through the wringer. If they don't kill him outright."

"Sounds like a pretty nasty bunch..." Tails frowned. "Are they really that awful? I mean, my family were all kitsune, and they were nothing like that. We were loners, to be sure... but we had some respect."

Morris lit the pipe and puffed on it contentedly for a few moments before he replied. "The kitsune here respect their own. Everything and everyone else to them either is kindling or food, depending on the need." He leaned over and blew out a thick plume of smoke. "But I'm not going to convince you to turn back, am I?"

"I've been at this for way too long to walk away from it now. I have to see for myself, if only for my peace of mind."

"Then by all means, don't let me stop you." Morris got slowly to his feet and walked to one of his many bookshelves, pulling one of them down and sitting it gently in Tails' lap. "This is one of my better atlases. It doesn't show the whole continent, but it shows what you need to see. You should hold onto it."

He opened the book up to the middle page, and flicked through a few more to find the one he was after.

"This is us, here. In Plinata." He pointed to one of the dots. Tails was surprised to see just how close to the western coast they were; his bearings had told him previously they were closer to the other side.

"I see," he said.

Morris' hand moved up, to a red dot, further to the north-east, on the other side of a thick, serpentine blue line that carved its way through the land mass. "That's the Enclave there, Gorromandas. That's where you want to go. It'll be a difficult trip, to be sure. You have the river to cross, also. There was once a bridge across, but I believe the rapids destroyed it many decades ago."

Tails smiled, pointing to his three namesakes. "Won't be a problem." He closed the weighty tome and slid it into his backpack that sat at his feet. "I can't begin to imagine how I'll thank you for all of this, Morris."

The old one chuckled heartily, and leaned back. "Well, if you're still intent on publishing that kind of account of your Duruga exploits that Sonic had mentioned so many times, you could give me a mention."

"You got it."

The fox sprung to his feet, and moved to the adjacent bedroom, where Sonic was still lying in bed, but his eyes were open. He must've been listening to the whole conversation.

Sonic rolled over and looked up at his best friend, carrying an expression of both dread and amusement. "Let me guess... you're in the mood for a hike."

Tails smirked, and looked down at his best friend. They knew each other too well. "You up to it, bro?"

The hedgehog rubbed his eyes, throwing the sheets off and staggering to his feet. "Sounds dangerous. Better count me in."