Chapter 13

They came to a trading post, after several days travel, high amidst the slopes of some nameless mountain. Caled seemed well familiar with it, and trudged through unbroken snow with renewed vigor as the small collection of buildings came into view. Not much to speak of, just a cabin, maybe twice the size of the one the woodcutter's lived in, a stable and a small outbuilding. It smelled of wood smoke and horse and something brewing though and the dog galloped forward, leaping and bounding through chest high snow.

Caled paused before they'd cleared the tree line though, frowning through his light beard.

"Here." He dug through his pack and came out with a hat lined with short fur, with flaps that came down on either side of the face. "Keep this on, and stuff your tail down the side of your pants. The market for rumor out here is as good as for furs, and there's no reason to spread tales about a neko traveling the highlands."

Dharsha did as he was bid. Dropping his trousers and sliding his tail down the inside leg. The coat covered the hole in the back of the pants, but confined, his tail tended to twitch of its own accord and there was no help for it.

He followed Caled up the trail the dog had made, and they tethered the horses in a recently cleared area outside the small stable. A man stomped out onto the covered porch as they were about it, generous belly and full grey peppered beard.

"What, you back already?"

"Aye," Caled pulled off a glove and ran a bare hand through his hair. "Thought I might try Chesna instead."

The trader's eyes traveled to Dharsha curiously, and Dharsha hunched his shoulders a little, huddling deeper in his coat. He had a reason to beware human men. Caled stepped forward, heading towards the porch steps, drawing the man's attention back to him and the pelts he taken from the packs.

"I've a full load still and there's a fox fur or two that I'd trade to top off my supplies and buy dinner and a real bed for the night."

The trader nodded, the merchant in him overtaking the curiosity. "Stable your horses then. There's stew warming and day old bread."

Caled gestured to Dharsha to do just that. And Dharsha gladly enough took charge of the animals while Caled went inside the post to barter with the trader. The dog preceded him into the stable, taking stock of all the scents. Horse and mule and goat, though the mule scent was old and fading. There was one horse in a stall and a pair of nanny goats that the trader probably used for milk. A few hens peered down at him from the loft, softly clucking at the disturbance. There were a handful of empty stalls, and he unburdened the animals and did what he'd been taught, rubbing them down, before portioning out grain and leaving them in their stalls.

He hesitated going into the trading post proper, his tail thumping nervously inside his pant leg at the prospect. But Caled was in there and he did not wish to make the man come out seeking him, so he steeled his nerves and climbed the steps to the post. He stomped snow off his boots before trying the door. It swung inwards into a room crammed with things. Baskets and blankets and beads and carvings, sacks of this and that, leather both raw and formed into gear. Furs and clothing and all manner of other things stuffed onto rough shelving or overflowing barrels. There was a counter upon which sat a pair of brass scales, and an assortment of other things. Behind it was a wall stocked with glass and ceramic bottles of liquid. There was a doorway behind the counter, from which the smell of something savory came.

Caled stood on one side of the counter talking to the trader on the other. They both glanced at Dharsha when he entered. They were speaking of weather and passable trails.

"The animal stays in the barn," the trader said sternly and for a fearful moment, Dharsha thought he was speaking of him, before he realized the dog had slipped in with him and stood with ears down at his side, as if she realized that she was due a night with no company but horses and goats.

"Fair enough." Caled nodded at Dharsha and he reached down and patted the dog's head consolingly before opening the door and shooing her out. Caled beckoned him afterwards, and he followed the trapper through the door behind the counter to a small room that served as kitchen and dining room. There was hearth with a cast iron kettle hanging over it, and a battered wooden table. And leading off from that, a set of doors.

Caled had apparently made use of this place before, for he seemed to know his way about. He ladled out two bowls of the stew and motioned Dharsha to a seat at the table. It was a foreign courtesy and likely the first time anyone in these human lands had invited him to sit and eat as a man might sharing the same table. Careful of his awkwardly positioned tail, he sat and hunched over the bowl. It was more meat than vegetable and even over cooked as it was, it was the best meal he'd had in memory. The trader came in with a ceramic jug and a set of scuffed mugs. He poured a clear, pungent smelling liquid into each, including one for himself.

Caled downed a sip of his and winced, baring his blunt teeth. "Fresh from the still, Franc?"

"What, too much of a bite for you?" The trapper chortled and downed all of his in one gulp without so much as a shudder.

Just the scent of the stuff made Dharsha's ears twitch under his hat. The flash of a grin touched Caled's lips, and he lifted the mug and took a healthy second swallow.

"You not man enough to swig home brew, boy?" The trader, Franc, asked Dharsha and Caled gave him a look and shrug. Dharsha lifted the mug, and the liquid barely touched the back of his throat before he hissed softly and coughed, choking on the foul stuff. It was worse than some of the things the woodcutters had forced down his throat. He pushed the offensive stuff away, to the amusement of the two men. Caled drew the mug over, not prepared, apparently to let the stuff go to waste.

"Take the bottle," Franc offered, heading back to the front of the post. "You know the drill, Cal and I'll trust you to leave the room as tidy as you found it come morning."

Caled nodded, and sat for a while after, staring at the fire, Dharsha's mug between his fingers. Finally he rose, and nodded to Dharsha. "Come on."

He pulled his coat back on, and Dharsha did the same, following him out to the stable, where they collected the packs and the dog and headed to the back of the post where a small outbuilding sat against the back of the main one.

There was an oil lantern just inside the door and a little box of matches. Caled struck one against the doorframe and it flared to life. He lit the lantern and its warm glow showed a small, functional one room space. The dog pushed past, exploring everything as they shuffled in. There was a low wooden bed with a bare mattress. A roughly made cabinet. A table with a basin, a woodstove next to which sat a pile of tinder and split logs. One little window, the panes of which were frosted over. Dharsha dumped the packs, while Caled hurried over to light the woodstove. Dry tinder was fast to blaze and soon a cheerful fire crackled.

"There's bedding in the chest." Caled directed, and sure enough there was. Well-worn sheets and thick blankets and pillows, protected from vermin and pests by cedar shelving and tight fitting doors.

Caled piled snow in a large cast iron pot and placed it atop the stove to melt and warm while Dharsha made the bed.

It was a small space and it did not take long for the heat from the stove to warm the air. Dharsha freed his tail and his ears and sat on the edge of the bed, idly petting the dog, while Caled rustled in his packs.

"So - - you head to - - Chesna, now?" Dharsha asked. He had no idea where this place was and could only hope that Caled had no intention of abandoning him here to go there alone.

"Good a place as any." Caled pulled out a leather bound kit. He poured the warmed water into the basin and put more on to melt. Then soaked a rag and began washing face and neck. He sighed, as if the washing were some great relief to him, and cast off his shirt to rinse his torso. In the light of the oil lantern, his skin seemed deep golden and marked with shifting shadow as muscle moved under skin. He had the fine, lean musculature of a man who indulged in a great deal of physical activity and yet ate sparingly.

Caled took a swig from the bottle he'd brought with them from the main cabin, and let his fingers drift over a thin gleaming blade in a pouch in the kit. He made some decision finally, for he soaked his face again and took out the blade, scraping it along the coarse beard under his jaw.

It was fascinating to watch. Though Dharsha had paid little enough heed to the Woodcutters sparse grooming habits, usually being forcefully occupied otherwise, watching Caled shave the hair from his skin was a reminder of how different their two races were. Neko bodies were covered in a fine, soft layer of fur. Sometimes so translucent that it was hard to differentiate with human skin. Sometimes, as males grew into mature adulthood, the pelt might grow thicker and fuller. Most certainly manes would thicken, fine and luxurious and never would a blade touch them. The hair on Dharsha's body was the fine, thin growth of an adolescent, a pale golden coat that lay flat and soft against his skin. His mane was no fuller yet than any human man with a full head of hair, but it would grow and thicken as time passed. Perhaps never so full as his alpha male brethren, but even a clan bound male took pride in a fine mane.

Caled finished with his shaving, wiping his face afterwards with the wet rag. He cleaned the razor and placed it back in the pouch, ever careful with his belongings. Even drenched in shadow, his face was considerably leaner without the scruff of beard. Dharsha made a point not to stare, and crouched by the woodstove with the dog while the trapper took a final swig from the bottle and snuffed the lamp flame.

Dharsha's eyes were quick to adjust to the darkness. Quicker than the dog, whose tail thumped softly against the floorboards. It was warm enough by the stove and this dog better company by far than the last he'd shared residence with. He had no problem sleeping there, and allowing Caled the bed. The embarrassment of that morning some few days back and his terrible mistake still stung.

Perhaps Caled sensed the root of his hesitation, for his voice came, soft and weary from the shadows of the bed. "Shared warmth is a more valuable commodity than preserving bruised pride."

Dharsha drew breath, then another, then rose and crept towards the bed. The slats under the mattress creaked a little when he slipped in and he lay close to the edge, under the covers, afraid almost to move.

"I've never paid for sex, or taken it against a partner's will," Caled said softly, the slightest of slurs in his voice, the slightest scent of that potent home brewed liquor on his breath. "And with you, with any man or woman forced to endure what you - - well, how could it be otherwise?"

Dharsha was not entirely sure Caled expected a response. He had no notion what to say if he did. What he had endured - - it seemed some nightmarish thing that lurked always at the edges of his mind now. It crept up on him unawares during sleep or even wakefulness when he let his thought wonder. Caled did not repulse him. Far from it, really. But still, when the man brushed past unexpectedly, he could not control the flinch. The instinctive lurch of fear. So perhaps Caled's words were not so far from truth.

"There was a time," Caled murmured, on to other topics. "That I slept nightly in beds far more hospitable than this, though admittedly never with so exotic a bedmate - -" he trailed off, turning on his side, his weak human eyes struggling in the dark to make out Dharsha. Weak human eyes, weak human sense of smell, blunt human teeth and nails, limited human durability. All of these things and still they managed to instill fear in their adversaries. One on one, there was little reason for a healthy neko to fear a human man. Dharsha turned his head to study Caled's smooth shaven face.

"I'm sorry," Caled said and Dharsha had no idea for what. "It's not, you know, that I abhor the thought of a man in my bed - - for I don't - -"

He was intoxicated. The woodcutters had often babbled when they were deep in their cups, admitting things they might regret later, and take out upon a hapless audience. Even the Lady had grown maudlin when she'd had one too many glasses of the sweet wine she liked to drink.

"It's all right," Dharsha said softly.

Caled sighed, and Dharsha noted that the smell of the liquor smelled sweeter on his breath than straight from the bottle.

"Why did you leave those comforts for this life?" He could not leave well enough alone, and it was rare for Caled to speak so much, or admit such personal truths.

The trapper laughed. "There are many things that drive a man into the wilds. Many things."

Not much of an answer. There were some personal truths that even liquor could not spur. Dharsha thought of his own people and the banishing of certain young males who did not have the sense to bow to clan hierarchy.

"There are those of my people who lose themselves in the deep forests. Younger brothers or sons who seek to usurp the clan males. They can't help themselves when the urges hit sometimes, and become outcasts because of it."

Caled threw an arm over his face and made a strangled sound, a laugh maybe. Hard to tell with the muffling of flesh and bone.

"Then your people and mine are not so different after all." He finally said and buried his head in the pillow after, letting out a gust of air and falling, finally, into slumber.