(no subject)

[cog_nomen]

"How far have we come?" Conlan panted. His panic had faded to a blind run, instinct fueling his flight for as long as fear-released chemicals could sustain his body.

As exhaustion had set in, his senses had returned. His body felt leaden, heavy. HIs pace had slowed gradually from run to trot and at last to a walk. Now he wondered if he could continue to do even that.

"We ran most of the night, master." The chimera was pacing himself to match the alchemist's steps. I'm not sure how much ground we've covered, but I don't know where we are."

"Further than we've ever been before, then." Conlan looked up, trying to guess the direction they had come in from the position of the rising sun.

"Than -I've- ever been, master." Thenotay had lead them well, considering. Conlan guessed they were headed toward the mountains, and Guth. They'd circled some to keep on steady ground. "You've been all the way to Tura."

"So I have." The alchemist did not intend on returning there. "But we can't go there, now."

"You can't mean to go back." Thenotay paused, and the alchemist dropped his hand from the creature's shoulder at last, and stopped. He sank down to his knees, trying to catch his breath. He concentrated on turning the shallow panting into deep, cyclical motions. "We aren't safe there."

"We aren't -safe- anywhere, Thenotay." Closing his eyes, the alchemist sighed, and thought. "They know who I am, and they know what I look like. Our best chance is to keep moving."

"Perhaps we should move away from people entirely." The chimera's voice grew quiet, ending with a slow grit that indicated hesitation. "...You could hide more easily without me."

The alchemist shook his head, gravely. He was not about to abandon Thenotay for the simple reason of ease. "No. You're my responsibility, and my friend." It did not need to be said that friends did not abandon each other at the first signs of trouble.

Leaning back, he took stock of the situation. They had no supplies, no food. Conlan had some money, true. It was in his pockets as it always was, just in case. On the other hand, he did not even have proper shoes on, simply the light socks in which he'd slept. His clothes were simple, rumpled from sleep, and certainly not enough to keep out the cold for very long. He had very little to work with, but he'd made more with less in the past.

"We'll move toward Guth." Conlan sighed, and picked himself up again. His muscles were tired and sore. "We can make it before tomorrow morning if we keep moving the whole time. We'll have to rely on our lead rather than surprise."

"You have to rest." The chimera parked himself in front of Conlan. Thenotay could be downright stubborn when he wanted to be, and the firm set of his posture revealed that he would not bend on this matter.

"We have to keep our lead." The alchemist stood up, wincing. "A few sleepless nights and some exercise won't do any permanent damage. If they take the road, they may still arrive there before we do."

Thenotay remained seated. Conlan sighed. He reached out to take his friend's skull in his hands, turning the chimera's face toward him to look him eye-to-eye. The mixed materials felt cool in his fingers, a fact that he suspected he'd never get used to - living things were warm. Thenotay was alive, and no doubt about it. He still didn't understand some things about the Chimera, the way a parent is surprised by the growth of a child, but he valued Thenotay's input. Now, he was surprised at the creature's ability to adapt, something he supposed he'd built in without even knowing it.

"You're not worried about our home? It's the only place we've ever known." Conlan questioned.

"Everything important about it is right here with me, Master." The chimera explained. He lifted his chin from Conlan's hands, and stood up again with a soft clatter. "I value nothing of wood and straw. There is no use in having feelings for materials."

"I might argue that point," The alchemist was somewhat tickled by the irony. "I have some great affection for a thing of calcium and iron."

"It's not the same." Thenotay turned his head over his shoulder, his tail flicking slightly to show his displeasure at being compared to something he could see an obvious distinction in. "Your chairs don't return your feelings for them."

Conlan's breath had mostly recovered, and he felt a little better for holding still. He stretched his muscles, working down his arms, twisting his back from side to side, trying to limber them from their tensed states. They moved reluctantly, unwilling to move without a struggle. He was tired, and he still had lots of ground to cover before a rest would be in order. His legs, in particular, were stubborn. They felt heavier than usual, and he stretched them out with the aid of his hands. He considered the chimera's point distractedly. There really wasn't any comparison between Thenotay and the inorganic materials that compromised him.

The chimera watched him, almost curiously. He was keeping watch, and thinking at the same time, Conlan guessed. He would have liked to know the Chimera's thoughts, but time would not grant them anything spare to stand and talk about it.

"Come on, I'm ready now." He put his hand out, and the chimera came for him to lean on. "I didn't mean what I said."

"Which part?" The Chimera didn't look around at him, picking their path out of the trees and underbrush carefully - though it was impossible to hide their tracks.

"You're not a thing, Thenotay." Conlan apologized. "You are more than what you were made from, as we all are."

"I should hope so." There was a raspy, grating chuckle from his friend. "Aren't humans mostly water?"

"Mostly. That reveals a lot about their tidal nature, I suspect." The alchemist chuckled and turned his eyes upward toward the tree canopy. "Anyway, you're the one real friend I have, Thenotay. I don't mean to hurt you."

"Master, I wouldn't trouble our friendship with hurts over such things. I have no others to fall back on." Though the tone was light, Conlan detected a deeper hint of truth in the words.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, each weary in their own right.

---

Harry revealed all the agitation she kept so carefully hidden. His wings were a constant stir of motion, his voice raising again and again on her journey until she at last banished him from her in agitation. He circled overhead, occasionally darting down to pick some hapless rodent from the tall grasses alongside the path on which she rode. Time had done nothing to soothe her anger. She felt irritable, and kept her horse at a fast walk with no chance for rest and no time for it's attention to stray.

She could not believe the nerve of the witch-hunter to use her so, but more so she was frustrated with her own blindness. She had slept in the same room as an alchemist, and been completely unaware. Granted, the man had no visible sign of his trade, and he was wise to live in secrecy. Singer was somewhat surprised to find that one, even well hidden, still existed. Then again, she supposed he could not be the only one left - lore taught her that things survived even when they were thought completely lost. Humanity was particularly incredible at survival, and Alchemists were among the most intelligent of those.

It only made sense that hiding in some of the most outlying towns, one or two survived. Singer would inform the Overmages of her discovery on her return, though she hoped the problem would be solved by then. Hoped, but did not expect. The witch-hunter was untrustworthy and the wolv was incompetent, she realized now. The match had been the best one to make, she'd been told, but she resented it. He was weak. She expected weak children. If the Thuss were to continue as separate races, both sides needed only strong offspring.

The thoughts only deepened her frustration. Things had been simple enough until she'd reached maturity. Childbearing had been a chore she wanted over with quickly, so she had rushed into it. Of course she regretted it.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she lifted her eyes to watch Harrier swoop in the sky. The hawk dipped sharply, folding it's wings in tight to it's body as it plummeted toward the grass. At the last second it adjusted it's angle expertly , opening it's wings and snapping back into the air like a kite brought up short against an air current. From it's talons hung the long, unorganized curls of a dead snake. Singer smiled to herself - at least one of them could get their aggravations out.

Sitting up, she kicked her horse into a gallop. It felt better to run than move slowly - and she wanted to be back in the city sooner rather than later. She'd had her fill of sleepy farmtowns and their sleepy farmfolk.

---

He was shopping, the date of expectancy drawing closer and closer. Jessa had pointed out that they were woefully unprepared, and she was right. They did not have clothing, a crib, or blankets for the child. Money wasn't an object - they had just been busy. Then it had slipped his mind, while he sat at home on their vacation and poured over the work he had sworn not to touch. The plan had come together, and he was drawing up the schematics for a descriptive circle, checking and re-checking. Such things were far from his thoughts as he examined miniature knit clothing, the colors pastel and soft.

A shaded stall caught his attention, it was little more than a blanket under four braced sticks that held up a second blanket, filthy from exposure to the rain and elements. The man beneath was little different, equally shady and dirty. His wares were suspiciously new to be secondhand, and singular in a way that indicated that they weren't manufactured by the man selling them.

"Where did you get this?" He questioned, considering notifying the authorities.

His clothes apparently revealed his status, and the man shook his head quickly, standing up. He touched his brow and averted his eyes before answering.

"Didn't steal'it Master Alchemist," He said, his voice older than his years. Cade suspected that disease was a factor in it. "Took it out of the rubbish - though It's clean enough." He amended rapidly, when Cade's eyes slid suddenly toward the items to inspect them for signs of filth. "Woman never used them. Said her baby boys were born... twisted."

Birth defects weren't unheard of, but the thought was hardly pleasent. He did not want to think about the imperfections that could happen in the womb with his own child so soon on the horizon. He pushed the thoughts from his mind.

"Thuss woman, sir, but nothing wrong in that." The man continued, apparently mistaking Cade's lingering for interest. "The babies didn't live, so there's no trace of animal fur in there."

It was common practice for the newly born and bonded pair to share a crib. Cade shrugged his shoulders - it didn't truly concern him. He would not buy anything from such unlucky circumstances, but the items weren't illegally obtained. He waved the man away and continued along the venue, his thoughts refusing to leave alone the idea of twisted Thuss babies. He hadn't heard record of birth defects among the beast-bonded before. Yet, recently, he'd heard whisperings of such things beginning to happen. He wondered if there wasn't some sort of disease that they had become carriers for. Infant immune systems were weak, and it was highly likely that contamination could occur between mother and child. It was a matter that only concerned him insofar as the Thuss were fantastic research subjects.

Continuing on, he found what he was looking for at last, in a carpenter's shop. He'd fully intended to commission a crib long ago, but he hadn't gotten around to it. Instead, he had to hope that one was in stock. Clothes were another matter entirely - he would have to hedge his bets on colors that would suit the baby, and the baby's currently unknown sex. Jessa said she hoped for a girl, and had chosen a name for a girl, going mostly on Cade's guess.