(no subject)

[cog_nomen]

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.

He still wasn't sure what to hope for. Picking through cribs, he suspected it didn't really matter. A baby was a baby, and he would love his child regardless. He chose a sturdy feeling crib, and paid the carpenter. The man looked him over, and arched his brows.

"Not that I'm not glad to take your money, Master Alchemist," He said, counting coins. "But couldn't you just transmute some wood into a crib?"

"My wife and I are somewhat old fashioned." Cade laughed. At the carpenter's curious look, he explained further. "We specialize in organic transmutation. It's a relatively new field."

"Oh, those strange creatures we keep hearing about?" The carpenter nodded once, and pulled a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper out to mark down Cade's address. "I can't understand that myself. I mean, what's the use in those critters?"

Cade wasn't entirely certain he wanted to spend the time explaining the future benefits of the experiments he and Jessa were conducting. He did his best to sum up. "The chimera teach us a lot about how to fasten magic to humans - who are naturally resistant. Eventually, we could learn how to repair injuries."

"Like... magical doctoring?" The man shook his head, and faked a shiver. "No thanks. I'd rather just heal on my own."

It was an easy thing to say while the man was healthy and whole - Cade suspected that those who would benefit more directly from his research would be far more receptive. It was easy to dismiss something you didn't need as unnecessary. If and when it became important to this man, he would be glad for the research. Cade contented himself with that and a nod. He relayed his address to the man.

"Alright, Master Alchemist." The man nodded, and laid the note in the crib to indicate that it was sold. "I'll have my boy bring it up later."

Satisfied, Cade left the shop. There was at least one less thing to do after the baby arrived. They still needed blankets, clothes, and toys, but those could wait for the baby - easier to buy appropriate colors and designs when they knew what those would be.

---

As the day wore on, Shatura felt worse. They covered a lot of ground, with no further pause. Though they had set his arm, the bites remained untreated. Roan had offered to help with them, but his fingers weren't delicate enough for the sewing, and they had nothing to put stitches in with anyway. They pressed on. Since they reset the arm, feeling returned to it. The witch-hunter wasn't entirely sure if that was a blessing. There was a throbbing agony that came in went in slow, infected pulses. He said nothing about them, just kept his attention on tracking.

It wasn't easy, his vision occasionally swam - partially from lack of sleep, he suspected. Still, he could pick up the trail and their best bet was to keep on it to keep their lead as small as possible. The tracks had slowed, and now they stopped. The chimera and alchemist parted ways, and stopped. They had paused here, and Shatura decided that he would, too. He settled on a fallen log, enjoying the moment's rest.

Roan drew up behind him, and sniffed around in a circle. He seemed more comfortable on four legs than two - each Thusswolv seemed individual in their preferences. Shatura had met one or two in his time, but none of them seemed quite like Roan. They all had a deep, feral hatred of alchemists. This one was different - not simply in appearance, but philosophy. None that the hunter had met before would let an alchemist live, promise or no.

"You were born a Thusswolv, weren't you?" Shatura thought aloud, thinking afterward that it might be taken as a rude question.

"Yes," Roan answered without blinking or pausing. His concentration on following the motions of the chimera. His tail waved slowly behind him as he paced around in a circle. "My mother was a Greatcat."

"I thought you looked a bit different." Shatura shifted the sling carefully, peering down. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but the wounds were oozing now. His dark skin showed angry red lines radiating from each, creeping ever further.

The wolv stopped and peered at him curiously, question clear in his expression.

"You've got a thicker mane," The hunter explained, pulling the sling back into place. It wasn't going to start looking better without medical attention, and it wasn't going to get that while he was sitting here. "And your tail is longer."

"I have several brothers." Roan chuckled, ears turning backwards as the corners of his canine mouth turned up to indicate a smile. Shatura knew what those teeth were capable of, and found the expression somewhat disturbing. "So I suppose I'm not used to standing out."

"They're subtle differences." Shatura got back to his feet. "Let's continue. It seems like they made up their minds to change direction here."

The footsteps became more measured - it had turned from fleeing for their life to a controlled retreat. He glanced up to orient himself.

"They changed direction." He had very little knowledge of the countryside here, but a deliberated change of direction would probably meant they were headed toward a town. "Northeast."

"There's a town - I stopped there on my way in." Roan trotted ahead now, his nose to the earth tracking the easy footprints. The tracks lead through the easiest parts of the forest now, easy to follow. The hunter didn't mind doing a little following, letting his swimming vision rest. "They probably mean to pick up some supplies there before going into hiding."

"They'll have a tough time hiding from us." Shatura chuckled - he knew what the man looked like. "The chimera won't be able to go into the town - we'll have the opportunity to get at the alchemist alone."

Roan sank into silence, perhaps not liking the idea of killing the alchemist at all. It was fine, so long as he aided in the death somehow - even this bit of tracking was enough - then his pack would honor him as a blooded adult. Shatura had no such qualms.

"Why do you do it?" The Thusswolv asked after a long moment progressing without words. "Hunt alchemists, I mean?"

"The rewards are good." Shatura said, simply.

"You don't seem like the greedy sort." Roan answered quickly - as if he'd expected that answer. Shatura did not miss the backwards angle of the wolv's ears. He was listening carefully to the hunter's answers, a fact that was surprising.

Rolling his shoulders, Shatura debated weather or not he really wanted to talk about any sort of intimate details with someone he had known for only a few hours. He decided, at last, the answer was no. "Ask me again sometime when we are better friends, Roan, and I'll give you a real answer. For now, satisfy yourself with the knowledge that the reward -is- good."

Another long silence greeted this information, and the witch-hunter wondered if he hadn't just wounded the tenuous friendship beyond healing. He breathed a gentle sigh, and missed the clarity of mind that the infection robbed from him. His thoughts were growing sluggish under the slow tide of pain. There was a heat growing in his head that he suspected had nothing to do with the cool fall air around them or the travel. A fever.

He watched the hypnotic motions of the wolv's tail in front of him, the waving tail like a pendulum as the creature moved forward at a steady trot. It was a reassuring, mechanical motion. The animal grace and ease of the motion was easy enough to concentrate on. Lulled, he followed afterward, concentration only on keeping himself upright and going.

"He didn't seem anything at all like they told me." Roan's voice carried back to Shatura.

"What?" His trance broken, Shatura asked for the wolv to repeat.

"My pack-mates told me they were all cruel monsters." Roan paused momentarily, catching a stray scent that crossed the path they followed. "But he had the chance to kill me, and he didn't."

"He saved his own life, in the end." Shatura mused, and the wolv glanced sharply back at him, realizing.

"He couldn't have known." He turned and went back to following the trail. "I promised that he would never see me again. I broke that promise, but it made us even. I still can't break my first promise."

"You're limping. Is that from his pet?" Shatura felt some small measure of satisfaction as the Wolv's pace altered - the limp suddenly better disguised in his gait. "You'll aggravate it that way, I've already seen."

"A net." The wolv admitted, sounding embarrassed. It would be somewhat humiliating to be netted up like a common animal - the Thusswolvs looked feral but did not lack intelligence. They were, after all, still mostly human underneath all the fur. "But he had a right to protect himself from me. I would have also tried to stop him, were he coming after me."

"Self preservation isn't unnatural, no." Shatura was somewhat confused, himself. Something Roan had seen had shaken the wolv enough to make him question his right - the right of the entire world - to kill alchemists. The Rojian knew that they were people, just like anyone else. That was partially what made them so dangerous - thirst for knowledge combined with a powerful magic that allowed them an easy way to attain the answers they sought. Though, the alchemist sparing the Thusswolv once his identity was discovered made little sense to Shatura. Even with a promise that the wolv himself would not kill him, if he held the knowledge, he could send others. In the alchemist's situation, Shatura would have killed Roan.

"The chimera." Roan began, then stopped. The witch-hunter did not press him, concentrating mostly on keeping his own pace natural and steady. Conversation gave him something to focus on other than pain, but he felt his attention sliding from it rapidly.

"He treats it as if they were friends, and not a master and servant." Shatura observed. He had noticed the way the footprints of alchemist and chimera went along side by side. They weren't walking one ahead of the other - leader and led, nor was the Chimera carrying the Alchemist. The distribution of weight in the prints showed that each was careful to lean on the other only as much as necessary. Back where they had stopped, the pattern of motion suggested they were speaking rather than milling about aimlessly.

"Yes." Roan agreed, as if glad he did not have to bring up the subject on his own. "They respect each other. I expected something different."

"He's only human, Roan." Shatura felt his balance giving a bit, righted himself. The wolv looked back toward him, hearing the change in the cadence of his steps. Suddenly, he circled back. Shatura hesitated, and then found his fingers deep in the Thusswolv's mane. He was offering his shoulder, and the hunter didn't find himself in a position to refuse. They moved on, neither leading the other. It was terribly ironic, Shatura supposed, considering they were following tracks that indicated their pray had passed in a very similar fashion. "Fully capable of human kindness and human cruelty. We know he's an alchemist, but we don't know who he -was-. He could have done anything before the Overmages saved us and banned the art."

Considering for a long moment, Roan moved on beside him. The witch-hunter could feel the soft slide of fur over his fingers, and the pull and shift of muscle under them. It was fascinating, what alchemy had achieved - a self proliferating species. Two, really. From one tribe of barbarians who had a little inherent magic. Thusswolv were a fascinating paradox. On the one hand, they were a predator to be feared. Razor sharp claws, a powerful jaw, and a build that combined all the best of apex predators. Backed by the reasoning mind of a man. Having never really thought about it now, Shatura marveled at the detail that the alchemists must have gone through - this was no patchwork shamble of creatures. Up close, the creature appeared perfectly formed, smooth and without defect. Distantly, Shatura noted how fine and soft the fur underneath his fingers was. He would have expected the stiff, wiry hair of wild animals. It seemed that Roan consistently turned out to be more than he expected, and he respected the Wolv more and more for that.

---