Faisand was best at concealing the tension.

Demarle was plainly anxious, and Brittery seemed angry- which didn’t really hurt things for her. She took it out on her clients, and they left impressed- her hell-cat act seemed only to improve by her reaction to the general mood. Daucery, by contrast, seemed jittery and mercurial, enough to put some Runge off. They’d look between her and Brittery, and they’d seem to be reconsidering the whole idea of balling Nerre, on the grounds of safety and common sense.

And Magarce tried the hardest of all to act normal, and failed the worst.

She was still stubbornly working, though nobody thought it was safe- she wouldn’t hear of stopping, and her only comment on the matter was “I hate them!”. That was it. The other girls didn’t know what to make of this. Even in exile and isolated from their strict culture, they still tended to assume that any interaction had to be honorable and polite, respecting the intentions of others, and to have the whole situation totally denied… it threw them, made them very anxious.

Daucery, alone, resembled Magarce in attitude, so she wasn’t troubled by that part, but she was very upset by the idea that her crazy new friend was in danger.

Magarce went about her business in a world that vibrated with terror, all colors too bright, all sounds primed to startle through simple panic. It was really the absence of event that made it so bad. Nothing happened, nobody came to attack her. One guy had joked, “Are you really worth fifty thousand credits?” causing Magarce to be completely lost for words. She just stared at him, and he raucously laughed at her and went off with Brittery.

Magarce had asked Daucery what was going on. Nothing in her experience on Ause had prepared her for a place where the citizenry could see someone sentenced to death, with a massive bounty on her corpse- and ignore it completely.

“I think part of it is, people don’t believe it. The reward is too high. It seems like a prank, a joke.”

“Did you say part of it?” said Magarce. “What’s the other part?”

“This is Verss. More than that, we’re pretty high up. Uh, don’t go out, okay?” said Daucery. “But Verss is where you go when other places get too hot to hold you. They’re kind of proud of it. It’s like, now you count as important. A lot of people would never turn you in now, you became sort of the essence of what Verss likes to think it’s about.”

“Then why shouldn’t I go out?” mewed Magarce. Her ears were flattened, and her eyes kept peering towards the door- she plainly had no wishes to do it, but needed to hear the explanation anyhow.

“At lower levels in Verss they won’t care about that, and they’re too desperate to question the reward. The thing is, guys like that don’t get up here easily- cops get them. There’s supposed to be free passage throughout Verss except for the peak estates which are gated communities- like your guy Tieb came from, fifty thousand credits is nothing to him- but really what happens is, low-level guys don’t get ten feet up here, without getting run in on suspicion of suspiciousness…”

“Fucking cops.” grumbled Magarce, automatically.

“Don’t say that again, okay? We pay our cop bill like anybody else but it can double or triple if they think you have a bad attitude- and right now you need them to be catching those low-level guys.”

“Sorry.” said Magarce. “It takes a little getting used to… what do you mean, level? You keep saying that.”

Daucery’s eyes bugged out. “How long have you been in Verss? How did you even get here and not know that?”

“I got a ride here! Faisand let me in and I haven’t been outside once, yet…”

“Now’s not a good time,” said Daucery hastily, “but seriously? So you’re saying, you haven’t been in Verss at all. Ever. Is that right?”

“You’re making it sound like I’m stupid.” said Magarce, in a sulky voice.

Daucery hugged her. “Nah! I’m just sayin’, there’s things that go on here that you couldn’t imagine!”

Magarce carefully didn’t mention her bloody career as a space pirate. She flicked her tail, and said, “What does that have to do with levels?”

“It’s not a… what do you call it, word that means something, sounds like something hard?”

“Dick?”

“No, like metal… metaphor! It’s not a metaphor, not like social levels or something. Look, you say you got a ride here, right? You must have gone right up the face of Verss to get to the Cathouse. What did you see?”

“Buildings, roads, walkways… you guys, I mean the Runge guys, they must have covered every inch of the mountain!”

“Whoa. Stop. What mountain? Verss is built on a plain. Actually somebody told me it was a sort of rock outcropping, like a hill, but certainly not a mountain.”

“But it’s…” Magarce trailed off.

“There are a lot of levels.”

Magarce listened, wide-eyed, as Daucery explained the reality to her.

“The Runge are funny creatures. They like teaming up. They want to be in a pack, and they’re really territorial, they’re proud of where they live. And there’s always some who want to be in the biggest, baddest pack of them all- and they’ve been coming here, for years. Centuries. They built up, not out. Verss is like one enormous building…”

“You mean, instead of climbing up the surface of it to get here, like I did, you could go in to the center?” Magarce tried to imagine what it would be like to have a whole city hanging over your head.

“Not likely. You’d get rolled, first of all, but before you got very far, you’d hit blockages. It’s called subsidence. Verss crushes the lower levels. Stick around, you’ll feel little quakes as the city settles.”

Magarce cringed. “There’s that levels thing again. You’re saying that the low levels are more dangerous?”

“Very. You won’t notice it so much way up here, but if you did travel around Verss- which you shouldn’t be doing now- but if you did, don’t go down and don’t go in. The rot starts low and starts at the center. The cops keep the top and the edges from being too dangerous. Of course they’re dangerous too, but you just pay them off and watch your back…”

“Hey!”

Both felines looked up, startled. It was a Runge voice, and Faisand had gone outside- Brittery was occupied, and Demarle was apparently getting a snack or something.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get pussy around here?”

Daucery’s eyes immediately went very green. “Hey, baby! He needs to ask, nicely.”

The guy sauntered over. Magarce was beginning to be able to identify things like Runge clothing styles, partly through comparing what the pirates had had with the attire of her recent wealthy customer. This guy seemed to be dressed expensively. His fur was jet-black. He said, “And what if I’m not good at asking nicely?”

“Then,” said Daucery, her tailtip flicking, “he gets more.”

“Maybe I want a lot more.” said the guy.

“Small stuff,” said Daucery to Magarce, “I’ve got matters to attend to…”

Magarce considered this. The guy wasn’t even looking at her, which had her affronted- and then she remembered Demarle’s warnings. Even without them, she could have told that something was going on, for the tone was strange, the guy strangely aggressive, Daucery beginning to tremble, her eyes too green and wild.

“Lemme watch!”

Daucery blinked. “What?”

The guy looked surprised, and gave Magarce a close look for the first time. “You’re gonna do what?”

“Okay,” said Magarce, “how bout watch and masturbate?”

Daucery was speechless, but the guy let out a guffaw. “I like her! So you want a show? We might be more than you bargained for, are you sure you want to see this?”

“Yes please!” said Magarce, taking on some of the childish attitude she’d used with the banker. Daucery eyed her suspiciously, then shrugged. The guy clearly didn’t understand that Magarce intended to be a tiny watchdog, and Daucery clearly didn’t care. They set off towards one of the back rooms, Magarce taking up the rear, but not lagging too far behind for fear they’d duck into the room and shut the door on her.

Magarce scampered to keep up- they were moving faster and faster. For a moment, she thought of the banker guy, and what it would’ve done to him to see her chasing the besotted pair. She wasn’t even undressed- she wasn’t supposed to be stripped to the fur on the lower level, only on the balcony or in the back rooms, but she’d borrowed one of Faisand’s dresses and she didn’t really fill it out in any direction. Apparently that too had its charms- for some.

She found it unsettling that the guy wasn’t even after her. He only wanted Daucery, and he was hungry, ripping off his shirt even as he trotted down the hallway. Daucery glanced back at him, her mouth open, and Magarce saw the green flare in her eyes, reflecting the light from the entrance to the corridor.

Magarce had to dart through the door, because Daucery was right there, slamming it behind them and leaning against it, panting, her ample ginger-furred breasts heaving in her excitement. Magarce saw, with the clarity of dangerous moments, that Daucery’s body was twitching, tailtip flicking spastically, her leg muscles jerking slightly as if some energy was romping through the ginger cat so violently that it was ricocheting off her body parts. Daucery’s grin was manic, and her ear flicked harshly, her eyes too bright.

“I know what you like.” said the guy smugly. Daucery nodded, her rictus grin unwavering.

“You do?” mewed Magarce.

“You ready to be my bitch?”

“She’s a Nerre, actually…” said Magarce, even as Daucery nodded more.

“Shut up.” said the guy. “Me and Daucery, we have an understanding.”

Magarce didn’t need any more convincing- this was the sort of thing Demarle had warned her about.

“Can I play too?” she said, watching the flash of irritation in Daucery’s eyes.

The guy just laughed. “You can hold her paw. But you can’t have any. Not the way she likes…”

Daucery smirked.

“Go on.” he said. “Show her how you like it.”

At this, Daucery promptly dropped to all fours, and turned to face away from Magarce.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” said the guy, and Daucery moaned and pressed her body to the floor, her butt sticking up. “I’m gonna fuck you until it hurts…”

“Hey, you’re not s’posed to do that!” said Magarce. “You…”

“Stop.” said the guy. He’d got his pants off, and was showing a long, scarlet wolf-cock protruding from his sheath. Magarce half-expected him to turn on her, attack her in some way, but instead his tone was one of exasperated authority.

“Stop, and look here.” he said, gesturing at Daucery’s rear, stuck boldly in the air, her tail quivering to the side. Magarce could see the shocking pout of Daucery’s vagina, see the glistening, smell her scent. It told a story that was no surprise to Magarce, that Daucery was blind with lust. The surprise was in the guy’s tone, and the way he was explaining himself.

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care, but you need to understand this is something that we do. I learned this about my little bitch a while ago. She wants this, and she wants me to sound like this. Don’t you know who I am? Do you think I’m some punk off the street?”

“I…” said Magarce, but he didn’t let her finish.

“I’m paying seven hundred and fifty credits, little moralizer, and I could pay that twice over- and do you, the same way. Except you don’t want it, and I doubt you could stand it- and she does. And look at her- she’s a match for me. I think you need to sit on your diminutive ass, watch this, and get the hell out of the way. You might learn something.”

Daucery wriggled her ass, and whimpered. The guy’s eyes flickered.

“And here’s your first lesson. Watch her cunt. Bitch, brace yourself, because you know what’s gonna happen to you now. I’m gonna lay fuckin’ waste to you. I’m gonna grab you and you’re gonna think a hurricane hit you…”

Daucery’s pussy pouted harder, and a drip of feline lube trickled out.

The guy lifted an eyebrow at Magarce, and his amusement and satisfaction were plain. He wasted no more time on the little Nerre, but moved directly towards the big one. Daucery shuddered and moaned, feeling him shift into position, and she set her paws apart and braced herself for all she was worth.

“And we show her how it’s done…” said the guy in a lewd rasp, and he lunged forward and seized Daucery around the waist with both arms, grabbing her with a violence that startled Magarce, even with all the warning and foreshadowing.

Magarce promptly scooted forward, to get a closer look. She figured it was only fair, the way Daucery had scooted in last time, and she didn’t think it would be noticed. She didn’t touch either the guy or Daucery, though, because it seemed so primal that she wasn’t sure touching them would be safe. The guy’s cock jutted under Daucery’s furry belly, for she’d stuck her butt up so high that he’d missed. His large, coarsely furred leg lifted and stamped, his back working as he thrust against her ginger fur. Through his legs, Magarce could see Daucery’s, trembling violently with the muscles standing out. There was a throttled scream of frustration, and a muffled noise. After a moment, Magarce worked out that the guy’s mouth was full of Nerre scruff- he was biting her, a sure way to get a feline to go unresisting, at least at moments like these.

The big wolf hips drew back, squirming, the leg stamping again, and Magarce saw just a glimpse of feline pink, a flash of lubricated flesh winking out from under the wolf- and then he had her, he had his aim sorted, and the next thing Magarce saw- right up close- was the swollen Runge cock jabbed into Daucery with all the guy’s strength, plunging so rapidly into her that Magarace barely saw it splitting her wide, barely saw the swelling of an incipient knot stretch her further. It was gone in an instant, thrust to Daucery’s depths, revealing only the narrower Runge cock-base and the guy’s straining hips as he shoved hard against her upthrust butt.

Daucery shrieked, and Magarce recognized the sound. Pure wanton cat-lust.

He held it there for a few seconds, and then Magarce had to scramble backwards, startled. She knew from experience that Runge had a way of hunching and working their cocks in you when they fucked you- they’d ram it home and then work it around while their knot got inflated. This guy hadn’t read the instructions. His hips moved less than half as fast as the usual Runge, but covered an alarming, unnatural range, one that Magarce had never seen before.

She stared, from a safe distance, as the guy withdrew more than half his wolf cock from Daucery, clamping his arms around her body and pulling until a bulbous shape emerged from the ginger cat’s pussy to the accompaniment of a sharp yowl- and then, the lupine body doubled and tensed, and the bulbous shape squashed against Daucery’s crotch- and popped in with a loud squelch and a ragged feline shriek.

Somebody had mentioned knotpopping. Was it Demarle? The term had meant nothing to Magarce, and Runge with each other couldn’t do what Magarce saw. The females had a muscle that tensed and locked them to the males. Magarce’s body had no such instinct, but she was tiny and the result was much the same. Most Nerre would have a similar experience.

Daucery wasn’t most Nerre. She was a tall, rangy creature, and in a state of high arousal she shared with other Nerre the tendency to melt into a wailing, dripping feline puddle craving deep-thrust dick. And this she was doing- but Magarce could tell from the sounds she was making, from her bristled-out tail, from the way her claws dug at the floor, that she was intentionally playing with fire.

The fire was a flaming scarlet and fiercely erect- and Magarce watched in astonishment as the guy pulled at Daucery with a mighty heave, and wrenched his knot out of her again, in an even more inflated state, and then shoved, snarling, until it wedged its reluctant way back in. He was going slower, but then he had little choice, because what he was doing was impossible.

Magarce watched one more emergence of the throbbing, swollen knot, one more straining burial of its girth within Daucery’s bristling, shrieking body, and then thought she’d better get a sense of Daucery’s expression. You couldn’t really go by sound, not with Daucery, not with any proper Nerre. It’s awkward, thought Magarce. We scream and shake as if we’re being killed on a good night, and how are you supposed to tell if it’s really a problem?

She slunk carefully around to where she could see Daucery’s face, noting first that the ginger feline looked just as bristley and haggard from this end. Daucery’s eyes were shut, and the side of her face pressed the floor, nuzzling drunkenly, her jaw half open, appalling noise coming from it. Magarce considered this, nodding- all nominal. She wondered if it was a matter of tolerating Cery’s debauchery and explaining it somehow to Demarle, covering it up. Magarce understood the concept of debauchery you had to hide. It was very familiar to her. Having a friend who also had secrets seemed nice, reassuring.

The guy’s breathing had become more and more harsh, sometimes through an opened, panting mouth, sometimes buried in the nape of Cery’s neck. Every time he bit her scruff, Daucery shook and howled her surrender. He went for her neck again, and Daucery’s eyes opened, right in front of Magarce, and Magarce could see the flaring green wildness of climactic Nerre sexuality, undimmed.

Then, as the guy started to come, his body jolting and spasming, he grabbed with his arms. His grasp went forward, across Daucery’s breasts, over one of her shoulders- and with a series of yelps through Daucery’s neck-fur, he grabbed and pulled, hard, and his hips went forward, his back arched, Daucery’s body went nearly vertical under him as he pushed down with all his wolfish strength, trying to drive his crotch entirely through hers in a mad fit of carnal ferocity.

Magarce was inches from Daucery’s face, and her eyes went suddenly wide. A horrible cry rang out. It wasn’t all that different from the horrible pleasure-cries she’d been making all along, more guttural, somehow deeper- but Daucery instantly stopped nuzzling the floor. She did not move, apart from the shaking, and her ears went back, flattening themselves against her head, and her eyes stayed wide but didn’t look at anything.

“Cery?”

The guy was still redoubling his efforts, shuddering and coming atop her. His jaws wrenched her neck, but Daucery’s head barely moved, for her pose was now frozen tensely as she stared at nothing.

“Daucery!”

The ginger feline began whispering, as if to herself, dreamily- “…not good, not good, not good not good not good…”

Magarce took in the situation, with Daucery’s stricken look- her ears were back, but her expression was tragic, as if she’d let him down somehow- at the massive wolf still with his eyes squeezed shut in passion, body convulsed with his climax as it dragged on- and she knew instantly what had happened. She’d flirted with it herself more than once, and couldn’t really understand why Daucery was reacting as she was, but she didn’t have to understand that part.

Magarce darted forward and cuffed the guy’s nose, claws out. “Get off her! Get out of her, get out of her!”

“Gah! What? What the hell is…”

“Get out of her, right now!”

“God damn it! Why did we invite you?” shouted the guy. Daucery’s gaze, unseen by him, began to glaze over.

Paws ran along the corridor as others heard the change in tone.

“Get out! Pull out!” screeched Magarce, cuffing at him again, dodging a blow as he let go of Daucery to swing at her.

The door flew open, and Demarle stood there. “Oh, no!”

“Listen, you can’t just do that!” bellowed the guy.

“Bullshit!” said Magarce, her ears laid back, getting right in his face. “After what I just saw? Works a little different with us, huh? Pull out of her right now!”

The guy drew himself up. Daucery sagged, no longer seeing anything, and went limp. He glanced down at her, his ears showing confusion.

“Now!”

Faisand had also appeared at the door. Demarle clung to her in horror. The old grey cat’s jaw was set, and she looked over the scene wordlessly.

The guy stopped arguing. He put his hands on Daucery’s rump, and he pushed with them and tugged with his hips. It looked like he had to pull very hard. All of the watching Nerre cringed, even Magarce, to see the force he had to use, to see the ginger-furred mons balloon obscenely out, showing a ring of pink flesh that stretched and stretched agonizingly as if giving birth to a swollen, oversized Runge knot.

The red knot popped out, and the red wolf penis slurped out after it, and red kept coming and flooded the inside of Daucery’s legs and the bedspread, lots of red, way too much. Magarce’s heart jolted to see it- it was her worst suspicion. She turned on the guy, claws bared.

“Get out!”

“Now hang on,” he said, “there’s something you have to know…”

“Get out!” yowled Magarce. She slashed at him with bared claws, but he dodged, too quick for her.

“Listen, I am a doctor! It’s how I can afford this, and I have a better idea…”

Faisand took one look and ducked back out the door. Magarce advanced on the guy again.

“I need to take her back to my place, I can care for her there, and you can have her back when…”

“What?” cried Demarle. Magarce, wild-eyed, circled, and then, in desperation, attacked.

The guy was too fast, impossibly fast. He was, perhaps, some sort of martial artist as well as a doctor. He had Magarce’s paws locked in a hand-grip, grinding her wrists together painfully, then twisting her arms and resuming the grab, this time with her paws behind her back. He twisted them, and the tiny feline screamed in pain.

“The way this’ll work…” continued the guy.

“What?” repeated Demarle, distraught. “Stop it, stop it!”

“It… gah… what the hell?” said the guy. Even though he was twisting Magarce’s arms, even though she was blind with pain, she was still trying to gut him with the claws on her feet. Her tail bristled, and her body twisted, heedless of the arm lock, desperately trying to do him damage. Although his knowledge of his fighting craft was obviously complete, the fact that Magarce wouldn’t yield had put him into real trouble. He wasn’t ready to break her arms- his ears, his tail, all showed that he was intimidated- and Magarce simply would not let up.

There were footsteps in the hall, both light and heavy.

“In here!” came Faisand’s voice, and the doorway was filled by a thin old grey cat whore- and a Runge cop, his gun drawn and leveled at pretty much everybody in the room, indiscriminately.

That did it. Everybody but Magarce froze. Even the doctor had apparently learned about Verss cops. It was dangerous to call on them, excite them in this way, because you could end up as one of a roomful of corpses, and your story would be covered up to spare embarrassment. If you complained, you might get another visit, and eventually there would be nobody left to complain.

Faisand said, very clearly and carefully, “Remove this man. We won’t press charges.”

“What ch…” began the naked guy, but the gun swung his direction and he stopped immediately.

“Let the girl go!” said the cop, eagerly, as if hoping for resistance.

“Uh…” said the guy, for Magarce was still trying to eviscerate him. “Little help here?”

Faisand and Demarle moved in, and as the guy released her, they pounced. Rather than try to arm-lock her, they simply sandwiched her in a two-Nerre hug, as if they’d rehearsed it and had experience tackling hysterical felines. From between them, a dreadful shriek of rage and despair rang out.

The guy, tail between his legs in terror, started to gather his clothes, but the cop bellowed “Hands where I can see them!”, and held the guy at gunpoint while he kicked at the clothes until he was satisfied there wasn’t a weapon in there.

“Get them fuckin’ clothes on and get moving!”

“But I’m a…” said the guy, and then thought better of it. He dressed, and skulked out, followed closely by the cop, who appeared much more interested in the now-quelled threat of the guy than he was in the aftermath of the situation. From down the corridor, they heard the door close behind the two of them.

There was a sob from between Demarle and Faisand, and they carefully released Magarce, who wobbled and fell over, ignored as the two other felines rushed to Daucery.

As they looked over the stricken ginger feline, they heard a noise, and saw Magarce, too blind with adrenaline to walk, crawling over to help. It wasn’t a reassuring sight- unless you badly wanted another pair of hands to carry your comrade to the emergency room.

Cursing, reeling, Magarce got her paws under her and helped with Daucery, who was so big it took the other three to lift her. Demarle made a keening sound of horror, for she was in the middle and her white fur was getting badly soiled by red blood, but she didn’t give up.

As they reached the front room, Alonifi came to investigate, and Faisand cried, “Get the door! Hurry!”

A taxi was waiting. At first, Magarce thought Faisand had called that too, but the elegant silver cat’s expression told a different story- she looked disgusted, and looked up and down the street, and then bent over to talk to the cabdriver.

“Don’t tell me. You saw the cop, did you?”

“Two hundred. Get you to the hospital real quick. Come on come on…”

“Vulture!” hissed Faisand, looking again for any alternative.

“Hey, come on, you know how hard it is to get cat blood out of upholstery?”

“That’s plastic and you know it.”

“Two hundred for all of you and the blood.”

“Alonifi!” cried Faisand. “You stay home!”

“Nice try. She didn’t count. Still two.”

Alonifi scampered back inside, and the Nerre ladies piled into the back of the cab. Faisand waved bills at the cabbie, and then yanked them out of his reach.

“Move, you wretch! Go!”

He had the decency to reply only with acceleration, and they were off, his horn blaring, the small turbine generator that powered his electric motors ramping up to a supersonic shriek, tires clawing at the pavement. Magarce held Daucery’s unconscious head, and marveled at the way things fell apart.

“Say.” remarked the cabbie. “Is that little one the kitty with the reward for…”

“No.” snapped Faisand, with unwavering certainty in the tone of her obvious lie, and the cabbie relented, and drove like a fiend to the hospital.

They didn’t have to wait around at the hospital. Nurses and orderlies rushed over as soon as the cab pulled up, and Magarce at first found it heartwarming to see the obvious concern. This lasted about fourteen seconds. They had a stretcher, and with the help of the Nerre they had Daucery safely on the stretcher and heading into the hospital very quickly. And then…

“Alright, move it, go, go!”

The cabbie hit the gas and whooshed off with a chirping of tires and the whine of his turbines.

“You too, move it, out of the way!”

Magarce blinked. “Hey, we have to go with her! Where are you taking her?”

“We can do one family m…”

“I am her mother.” said Faisand, quickly, while the others were still too startled to react.

“Alright, you, come this way, the rest of you move it! Clear out!”

The orderly was really aggressive. Both Magarce and Demarle were bristling. Magarce glanced over her shoulder, and another vehicle was already pulling in to where the cabbie had been.

“Go!”

The next thing she knew, she was halfway down the street with Demarle by her side, surrounded by Runge pedestrians of all decriptions. Her paws were shaking, and she wanted to bite.

“That.. asshole!”

“I guess I understand.” said Demarle. “I wish I’d been quicker, but Faisand will take care of it. We need to get home, she’ll call us.”

Magarce glanced around huntedly. “You know how to get back there?”

“Of course! It’s actually really easy… well… maybe not… Look, trust me, I know how to get back. There’s a sign that says 346B, see that?”

“Yeah,” said Magarce, “good for it, what does that mean to me?”

“Not much, but it tells me we’re pretty close to the surface and need to head there and then go counterclockwise around Verss. We need to get to 346A first, right away. The letter tells you how deep into Verss you go, we need to be at A depth so the cops are more active and we don’t get mugged.”

Magarce’s ears, already laid back, went back even farther. “What about the number?”

“Where we’re at, it’s so expensive the streets have names. We’re actually on Tally Road- not the one in the mountains with the stories and all that, ours is probably named after it. But the important thing is that Tally Road extends from 337A to 345A, and we’ll be coming out at 346A. Our place is near 342A, next to the hotel and the Estrai restaraunt…”

“Hey!” shouted a voice, and Magarce froze in her tracks. Demarle walked another step and then noticed, and stopped.

“Hey! Hey! I know you!” shouted the voice. It was a Runge male voice, full of self satisfaction, with a peculiar edge to it, an edge that said- this is a funny joke, and I am the joker.

“Hey! Where you been hiding? The fuck? You’re not gettin’ away this time!” The voice was getting closer, fast.

Magarce squeaked, and clung to Demarle, shaking. Demarle looked around frantically, her ears now laid back as well, and her already fluffy tail bristling out to absurd levels.

A big Runge male burst through the crowd. He cried, “You little fucker!” and Magarce’s cling got tighter, her claws digging into Arle- and the guy rushed forward and slammed into a backslapping embrace that was almost a tackle- with another male Runge who’d also burst through the crowd from the opposite direction. The trembling felines stood, dumbfounded, as the two big guys hugged, babbling, right next to them.

“Holy shit! You fucker! It’s you, it’s really you! What happened?”

“I know, I know… God, it’s so good to see you… you know how it is, they transferred me on no warning at all…”

“But you could have called! Emailed me!”

“I… it was a week before I knew which side was up, and then… I was embarrassed…”

Demarle glanced at Magarce, who shivered and looked up at her with big eyes.

“So… first we get out to the surface at 346A…”

“Yeah.” said Magarce. “Let’s do that. Please.”

They hurried off, leaving the two Runge still clinging to each other, even the backslapping forgotten as they talked.

Magarce and Demarle were silent, their paws scurrying them along through the alien crowd. It was tricky, because they were so much smaller than the Runge. Seeing the street signs was a problem. On the other hand, it was very difficult to see the Nerre as they wriggled and dashed through the crush of wolfish bodies, and that might have been a blessing. Magarce didn’t say a thing until they reached the surface, emerging into the afternoon sun where the crowds were thinner.

“I need the gun back. Demarle, I need it.”

“What?”

Magarce shook her head, as if to clear it. Her tail was bristled out irregularly, and looked disheveled, and Faisand’s dress had a bedraggled look on her from all the crowd jostling and its already loose fit. “You’ve got to find me that gun. Where did Faisand hide it?”

“We decided…” began Demarle.

“No, I’m telling you I need it. You just made me run through a huge crowd of guys who might have tried to kill me, and all I could do is try to hide behind you if anything happened. Some bodyguard! You need to find that gun for me.”

“But… Look, I know how it must seem, but that was totally normal for Verss. You’ll have to get used to it. It’s always like that.”

“It was out of control!”

Demarle smiled wryly. “Then don’t go down to the first hundred or so streets, and don’t go in past B depth, if that. Why should you? We’re supposed to be pretty high class. Thanks to Faisand, we are. We don’t have to go in very deep, or down very far. I swear, it wasn’t as dangerous as you think. Around A depth it’s about as likely to get mugged as, as… as flying a plane and getting it hijacked, okay? It doesn’t usually happen.”

Magarce didn’t reveal for a moment that she herself had happened to the pilot of a sort of plane, on Verss. Her mind was whirring away like mad, for it seemed that to get what she wanted was a matter of life or death, and without missing a beat, she pivoted and tried another angle.

“But it’s not about things happening, it’s about the role! You don’t seem to realize how trained I am- I am trained like you wouldn’t believe, I’m so good. I have to be able to use that as a threat. I’ll walk a little taller…”

Demarle snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes apologetically, for she didn’t mean to hurt the tiny feline’s feelings. Magarce spotted this and bore down even harder.

“You see? You see? How do you expect me to intimidate looking like this? How can you expect me to be a bouncer for you guys like this?”

“But we don’t really.” said Demarle. “Faisand’s showing you how to fuck. It looks like you might catch on that way. I thought you were really hot. Why do you have to be a…”

Magarce broke in, with deadly conviction, pointing back the way they had come. “That’s why. Back there. I’m telling you now, that’s why you need to do this for me.”

“Daucery?”

Magarce sensed victory. Arle seemed off-balance, and Magarce closed in for the kill, staring right into the bigger Nerre’s eyes. “I followed Daucery when she took that guy on. I conned them into letting me be there. I was there when she got hurt, and I tried to get the guy out of there- and I couldn’t. We lost time while he ran his bullshit. Faisand had to get a cop, with a gun I might add, and we waited, while Daucery was bleeding to death, because I couldn’t get the guy out of the way.”

Demarle’s eyes had filled with tears. Magarce’s were dry, and her stare was hard.

“You have to get me that gun again. Daucery might even be dead now because I didn’t have it. If she isn’t… well, I hope she isn’t. But seriously, seriously. Do not put me in that situation again.”

A passing Runge blinked curiously at the sight. The tiny kitten in a dress stood like a hero, staring down the much larger feline who wept and waved a paw helplessly, giving in, stammering, “I promise. I’m sorry. We thought…”

“I don’t care what you thought. I have to be able to do my job.”

They resumed walking, slowly, heading counterclockwise around the face of Verss and towards their place. Magarce hugged Demarle, standing on tiptoe to do it better. “Thanks! It was important!”

Demarle was pulling herself together. “You don’t know the hospitals we have here. I’d bet anything that Daucery is okay. She was alive when they took her in, I saw she was breathing. She’s still alive. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah?” said Magarce, curiously.

Demarle quirked her ears a little at the smaller feline’s tone, having expected more joy and gratitude, and less “Thanks, I got what I wanted!”. However, she wrote it off as more evidence of the strange kittenish girl’s toughness and bravado, and explained. “They’re really good. It’s gonna cost a crazy amount, but Faisand can get it. She can just go to the bank. She’ll okay whatever it takes to keep Daucery alive.”

“Where did she hide the gun?”

“I think I have some ideas… but listen, enough about the gun, we’re talking about how Daucery… huh!”

“What?” said Magarce.

“Oh, nothing, just that I guess you’re right. I’m trying to persuade you that there’s nothing to worry about, when you’re already not worried. Right? You probably think it’s silly of me to get upset like that.”

Magarce hugged Demarle again. “No, it’s okay! It’s part of your charm!”

Demarle laughed. “Oh, all right! Just don’t judge me too harshly, okay? I can still see you trying to claw at that guy while he nearly twisted your arms off. It kinda turned me on…”

“That’s unusual!” joked Magarce.

“I promise, it’ll stay unusual- we’ll get you that gun, and you won’t have to try and wrestle a wolf twice your size.”

“No, I mean, you being turned on isn’t unusual…”

“Maybe I can find better things to do with that little, fierce body, hmmm?”

“Get me the gun, then you can do what you like. Please do! But get me the gun.”

“What, you want to have it while fucking?”

“It doesn’t go off by accident.” said Magarce, echoing a dead voice of her memory. “You don’t get to tell me where to point it.”

Demarle blinked. “Don’t point it at me!”

“No,” said Magarce, “I mean… never mind. Something somebody said to me once. But yes, I want it where I can get it at all times.”

Demarle nodded slowly. “I guess I can see why you feel that way. I guess we can get used to that. Creepy but safe?”

“You’re gonna be incredibly safe.” said Magarce. “Nobody’s ever gonna be more safe.” She thought to herself- nobody’s ever gonna control me like that again- and hastened her step.

Back at the hospital, the doctors worked rapidly but calmly. “Worst one this week. Suture! Thanks. Why do they do it to themselves? Sorry, I know that’s a stupid question. But don’t they care that it hurts?”

“Usually they’re just blinded by lust,” said the other doctor, “but I saw who was with this one. It was Faisand, that celebrity whore. This one does it for the money.”

“Hope she got enough, then, because she’s gonna be out of action for a while. Yeah, ready to close up. Check that heart rate… okay… big girl, isn’t she? Tough kitty.”

“Good thing, too. Though you might say, not big enough.”

“That’s not really fair. They can’t really be with our guys the way they are with their own.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah, well, I have a wife. So I wouldn’t know.”

When Daucery woke up, it was at first hard to tell the difference between dream and reality, because the room was so different and her head felt like a cloud of dream floating motionless in midair. She couldn’t feel anything, and it took a good ten seconds even to make sense of the shapes that resolved themselves into a hanging bottle of Nerre blood on a high steel bracket, suspended over a very industral-looking bed-frame, in front of an equally industrial-looking chair, which had Faisand sitting on it.

When Daucery registered that it was Faisand sitting there, she involuntarily began a weak, dazed purring, and at first Faisand didn’t reply, except to look gratefully at her foolish friend and purr herself.

After a little of this, Daucery mumbled, as if to herself (though she was trying to speak to Faisand), “…so it really was not good huh?”

“No, dear.”

“…doctor will I play the violin again? heh…”

“You should sleep. You’re going to be there for some time recovering…”

“…don’ wanna sleep. Take me home…”

“No, dear. I’ll stay with you and talk with you, but soon you’ll be tired again and you’ll sleep.”

“…how’s the lil’ terror? She was right there.”

“She tried to kill the guy with just her claws.”

“…heh! figures…”

“I was hoping I could talk with you about that…”

Daucery leaned her head over to meet Faisand’s eyes. “Yeah?”

Faisand held paws together primly, picked her words carefully. “It seems that you have struck up a friendship with the girl.”

Daucery coughed, and winced. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

“But I know you.”

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” said Daucery. “Because let’s do it later, or not bother…”

“I’ve just said I know you. Do you really think I’m going to lecture you about what you will learn, or not, in your own time?”

“Yeah. I mean no. You wouldn’t do that- you don’t do that. Actually you do it to Alonifi, but you never do it to me. Why?”

“I just told you. And it’s Magarce I want to speak of.”

“All right, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s this. Daucery, do you think we had better get rid of her?”

Daucery blinked. “What brought this on?”

“Seeing her fighting the wolf that hurt you. The way she shot at you. I just have a feeling, and I’m wondering what you think.”

“Well, she’s kind of like me…”

“That’s why you’ll be honest with me. You are more than a little like her.”

Daucery nodded, and stared at the ceiling in thought, which Faisand did not interrupt.

“She fought the guy hard, huh? You’re not alarmed easily.”

“She was frightening.” said Faisand.

Daucery thought more.

“Demarle won’t like it.”

“Demarle,” said Faisand, “will pout. I’ll make her cookies.”

Daucery chuckled, carefully, lest she have to wince again. “You’re a little like me too, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” said Faisand.

“You’re right. We do need to get rid of her. Demarle will just have to pout.”

“Don’t tell her I said that, please? She would stand it, with good grace, but I value her just as she is.”

Daucery yawned. “Ja value me?”

“For this, dear. I look forward to when you have better graces and are easier to stand, but until then…”

At this, Daucery laughed, then winced. “Ow. Oh, crap, did they shave me?”

“Of course. You were operated on.”

The towering ginger cat was getting more groggy by the second. “Did they, do you think they shaved my cunt? That might be kinda hot…”

“Prickly, and it takes forever for your fur to grow back and not show it. It does make some of the wuffies very licky…” said Faisand reminiscently. “But for you, dear, no. There’s a dressing on your belly, that’s where they… oh, she’s out.”

Faisand, her ears quirked in polite dismay, considered the unconscious, Amazonian feline.

“Strays. We are such strays, we are so tenuously in this world, and now I’ve got to break it to this new girl that she’s too wild for us. I daresay it will sound absurd even if it was coming from the likes of Daucery. But we are strangers here ourselves… I wonder if she could be tamed? Daucery, dear, what are the odds we can teach this girl to be more sensible than you?”

A snore was the only reply Faisand got, and the old courtesan settled in for a rest, attending Daucery as she slept.