The Shade

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NOTICE: This story is undergoing significant revision. Unfortunately, life's gotten pretty busy and editing is taking longer than I expected. As of this post on 6/20, I'm about 50% done. I hope to finish the bulk of the remainder over the weekend. Sorry for the delay.
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The Shade
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Chp.1: Uncomfortable introductions
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The hum of the light rail mingled with the distant sounds of traffic as it trundled along between the tall buildings of Aesall's old-town district. The sun was setting rapidly on a cool Friday evening, dragging long fingers of shadow across the cityscape and blanketing the sideroads and alleys in darkness.

Groceries in hand, Reed stepped off the train and set off along a dimly lit street. He could make out the top half of the old mage’s college above his neighbors’ roofs. The old three-spired building seemed to loom a bit more than it usually did over the narrow road. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but it looked as though the stained-glass window above the entryway was broken. Reed idly wondered when that had happened without him noticing.

Almost as soon as said thought crossed his mind, a stiff breeze pushed at his back. He looked at the trees, which remained almost stock-still. Nervously, he quickened his pace down the street. He was the only one still out. “Not too surprising,” He quietly muttered to himself. “I’m usually the only one ‘round here who works late, after all.” After far too long, Reed found himself fumbling for the keys to his own narrow three-story home. He stepped off the street with a sigh of relief and turned his key in the lock. The door opened with a satisfying click, and he stepped inside. His fingers reflexively brushed across the decagram inscribed into the door. Most newer houses didn’t have them, there was no need these days.

The main room was in the same state of vague disrepair as always. Reed grabbed a beer out of the sparsely populated fridge and slumped into his disheveled sofa. The sun had gone down fully now, leaving the city mostly dark. Right as he flipped on the TV, a large black shape rushed past the bay window. Reed whipped his head towards the disturbance. He sat very still for a minute. No sounds followed from outside. He slowly stood up and cautiously approached the window. The empty street below was all that greeted his eyes. He stood there, gazing out on the street below. His eyes picked out each individual cobblestone from behind his thin-framed glasses. Eventually, he pulled himself away from the window and sat back down. A restless sleep found him on the sofa about an hour later.

Reed was jerked awake by the blare of his second alarm. With herculean effort, he slapped at his phone.  Clearing the sand from his eyes, He stumbled over to the bathroom and stared himself down in the mirror. He was of average build, with gray-blue eyes and short, sandy hair. The dark circles under his eyes reminded him of the few photos he’d seen of his grandfather, one of the last living mages in the world. Once The Magic died, Reed was dragged off to the now derelict mage’s college to study with the few mages that were fit enough to teach, to try to squeeze the last few drops of The Magic from the husk of a dying world.

Once the hopelessness of the situation became apparent. he was allowed to leave. He went to a trade school to study Drafting. “It really was for the best,” he thought to himself, “Magic’s difficult to handle at the best of times, and the beasties that sniff it out aren’t really any better.” His memory wandered back to the last creature that he and his fellow initiates had encountered. A dragon no larger than a cougar reared up in his mind, gray scales shimmering and wide eyes projecting hatred at him and his fellow students. Even with a knife jutting from its chest, it summoned the last whiff of The Magic in the air to blow a fireball at them. The rather lackluster battle had permanently scorched the college grounds, burning the shadows of two former classmates into the marble wall. He wasn’t proud of what happened that day, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

he scrolled through his newsfeed for the day. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, until the headline “Mage’s College vandalized” scrolled up onto the screen. Unbidden, a thought forced its way into Reed’s mind. He rigidly stepped back over the mess on the floor to his window. Indeed, he remembered, the large stained-glass window set into the front side of the college was smashed, and now he saw technicolor fragments of glass and warding chalk dangling from the lead cords that were meant to hold them in place.  He wondered why anyone would target the college, it was hundreds of years old and completely abandoned for the last five.  The place was a cultural landmark, a sign of times gone by. He mentally shrugged off the question, figuring that teenagers didn’t need an excuse to be stupid.

One halfhearted bowl of cereal later, Reed donned a light jacket over his faded T-shirt and stepped down the stairs to the second floor. As he did so, he shivered involuntarily. The air seemed to be electrified in an all-too-familiar way. He wondered if it was just his frayed nerves deceiving him after yet another short rest. Out of an abundance of caution, he crossed his chest with what he thought he remembered to be warding gesture.

He rounded the second floor and fixed his eyes on the final flight. His eyes picked apart each of the 14 narrow steps that led up to the solid oak door. He saw two shadows from under the door, blocking the daylight from entering. He immediately sighed with relief. “It’s just a few solicitors going door to door.” He trotted down the stairs, undid the deadbolt, and popped the door open. His jaw dropped. He stood exactly still, eyes wide, arm outstretched and still clutching the doorknob - albeit now with a white-knuckle grip. “H-h-h,” he stammered. The stuttering rapidly gave way to a shout as he leapt back from the doorway, inadvertently throwing the door wide open. The decagram carved into the frame flared with a white light, and a shadowy mass reeled back from the entrance.

Reed staggered halfway up the stairs hands thrust out in front of him defensively. He tore back up to the second floor and began to frantically rummage through a pile of trash in his grandfather’s old closet. Shakily, he drew back with an old-world revolver clutched in his left hand. He opened the cylinder and confirmed the presence of a single silvered bullet in the topmost chamber. He closed the weapon, cocked the hammer, and shakily proceeded back to the stairway.

With nearly a kilogram of confidence in his hands, he stepped down into view of the doorway, and aimed the weapon squarely between the beast’s eyes. By this point, the creature had recovered from the initial shock of the old entry ward and had turned its head to face him. Two huge silvery-yellow eyes stared Reed down, gazing just above the barrel of the gun and right into his own. He expected the same rage and resentment that he saw in the eyes of that dragon years ago, but instead found the surprise and fear that thundered through his own mind. They stood motionless, staring into each other’s souls for what felt like an eternity. Reed’s shaking finger tightened on the trigger, his body willing him to put the creature down.

Slowly, the thing lowered its head to the ground. Never breaking eye contact, it pulled the rest of its body into view of the doorway. Reed noted the presence of an oozing gash that travelled in a messy arc from just behind the creature’s right shoulder blade all the way to its thin and obviously malnourished midsection, surrounded by matted ebony fur. The creature’s whiskers twitched in what seemed to be a pleading gesture. Finally, the creature’s eyes shut with an air of finality. Reed’s hand trembled. Gritting his teeth, he slowly lowered the weapon to his side. Finally, he squeezed out a whisper, “Would you like to come inside?”

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Chp. 2: Get Well Soon!
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The enormous black creature that was passed out on the third floor of Reed’s home gave him some significant pause. It resembled a long, thin fox, about 14 feet in length, with a long, spindly snout and short, stocky legs that were tucked into its thick black fur. It was curled into a tight ball and looked much smaller than it did a few hours ago at the door. His Grandfather’s old house was far from spacious, and the second bedroom was still full of his old belongings.
“That reminds me,” Reed thought aloud, “what exactly are you?” He walked downstairs, back down to the dusty closet that he’d torn apart earlier. He rummaged through the pile of old boxes, silently cursing himself for not keeping things more organized. After an agonizing search, he found his quarry – an old dusty tome titled “daemones occidentis”. He dragged the book up out of a decrepit cardboard box, blew the dust off the front cover, and began to flip through the pages. Scores of detailed illustrations and detailed descriptions flew past his fingers until a familiar black shape caught his eye:

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“next I wyll speak of the shades, or royal basylyks. Blacke or royal of coat and Posses’d of thyn body as tho a wulf mad with weasyl, and withe eyes of quyksilver and brymstone. As wyth dragouns, they can be ful malycyous, but are of peaceabyl temperament when invyted into a hosse…”
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A newer addition halfway down the page continued the thought:

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“Shades are tenacious seekers of Magic and are willed to travel great distances or go to great lengths to obtain it. Consequently, they are not seen without a thick cloak of Magic about them. They are fiercely intelligent and possess strong wills. They can be reasoned with in the common tongue but cannot naturally speak it. As with other beasts, a modified Hamish artifice can be used to facilitate conversation…”
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A large and painstakingly detailed glyph filled the remainder of the page. It reminded Reed somewhat of the basic artificing that he was taught during his college days, but it was far more advanced that anything that he had gotten up to in his year of training.

The next page was filled with detailed sketches of different ‘shades’, including strikingly detailed sketches of their anatomy, both external and internal. Reed cringed a little at the thought of picking apart such a large creature and recording each gruesome detail. Though macabre, the sketches were useful. Judging by the lack of quills and slight build of the shade upstairs, she was a female. This realization cemented Reed’s desire to never meet a male of the species.

Casting an intrusion of dark thoughts aside, Reed set the book down on the floor and began rummaging through the old stacks of boxes again. He produced a few pieces of warding chalk, a small bag of ashes, and several small semi-precious gemstones. He tucked the whole lot under his shoulder and proceeded up the stairs again.
Indeed, he noted, as he grew closer to the shade that was curled up behind his sofa, he felt the air grow thick with that all-too-familiar cerebral electricity that he thought had disappeared from the world forever. He had never tasted The Magic in such quantity before – the feeling of it flowing down his arm from his outstretched hand was almost intoxicating, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he closed his palm. Rivulets of condensed energy trickled between his fingers and fell onto the floor.

Reed’s movements must have been louder than he imagined, as the shade lying before him stirred slightly. Her back legs shifted slightly as if in some discomfort. Her back half rolled over slightly, giving Reed a glimpse between her legs. “definitely a female,” he noted sheepishly. He tiptoed over to her front side and produced the chalk from under his arm.

Carefully, Reed copied the glyph from the book onto the floorboards a few feet from her head. Minutes passed, with the shade’s shallow breathing and the soft scratching of chalk filling the room. Line by line, Reed’s trained hand etched the glyph precisely on to the floor, he figured he was lucky that artificing only required the precise construction of a given glyph instead of any real casting knowledge.

15 minutes later, Reed stood up over his work. The glyph seemed to glimmer in the dim light, iridescent drops of Magic collected on the precise lines and rolled towards the center of the piece. Reed held out his palm again, willing Magic out of the air and into his body. He threw his head back, muscles coiling with pure energy. Gritting his teeth, he poured the Magic back out of his hand and onto the floor, pooling it into the artifice at his feet. His vision went white, and gradually faded to black. Stars sparkled in his vision as he fell on his back with a muffled thud. The glyph on the floor had vanished, leaving the collector symbol that lay at the center burned into the wooden boards. Fragments of gemstones were scattered haphazardly around the smoking mess, some still spinning like tops atop the wreckage. “Maybe I overdid it a bit.”

Reed turned his attention back to the shade. Her face was now lightly coated in sparkling gem dust, but she seemed otherwise physically unharmed. Her breathing had grown shallow and labored, and her legs seemed to be twitching slightly. Reed crawled over to her and placed his hand on the soft fur covering her head. He wasn’t sure what to do – if he woke her up abruptly, she could bite his head off without a second’s pause. On the other hand, he felt that leaving her alone could end with her expiring on his floor.

Reed eventually mustered the courage to lightly touch the side of the shade’s long snout. Her ebony fur was long, soft, and silky. A few more assertive taps later, two enormous silver eyes sprung open and immediately widened in shock. The shade let out a small yip and jerked back away from Reed’s outstretched hand. She collided with the back of the sofa and immediately let out a yelp of pain as her right front leg gave out under the strain of her sudden movement.

The pair gazed at each other from their compromised positions, Reed lying backwards on the floor, arm still foolishly extended in the air, and the shade lying half on her side, one leg dangling uselessly towards the floor. The tension in the air slowly dissipated as Reed pulled himself upright and cautiously extended a hand towards the creature. He mentally cursed himself for leaving the revolver downstairs. He composed himself as best he could and cleared his throat. “You’re hurt,” he said in his best diplomatic tone, “I’m not going to hurt you, please try to calm down.” He knew that the panic in his own voice compromised the statement. His head spun with questions – where did she come from? How was she hurt so badly? How is she alive at all?

The shade hunched down and squashed her body against the tall back of the sofa. She let out a labored whine as she drew her injured side close. Midway, the sound metamorphosed into something much like a human groan. “Why are you helping me?” Unbidden, a silky, melodious voice pushed its way into his head. “Thank god,” Reed blurted, “‘least I didn’t bring a rabid animal into my house. Sorry.” She seemed taken genuinely taken aback by the comment.

 “Are you going to finish me? You should just kill me now.” Wet, wide eyes pierced Reed’s soul, slit pupils glimmering with a mixture of ice-cold fear and burning anger. She broke the gaze eventually, eyes sinking towards the floor in resignation.

“I’m not going to do anything now, until I get a grip on what’s going on.” Reed staggered to his feet. “You’re a shade, right?” He started stammering,” You shouldn’t - I thought – everyone thought the last beasts died off years ago.”

Her eyes flashed back up towards him. “What do you mean? That’s not funny – do all humans enjoy braying bad jokes -” The adrenaline from her rude awakening seemed to be wearing off, and her entire body was starting to droop. Her breath was starting to rattle in her throat, and even the saccharine voice in Reed’s head had rapidly grown too faint to make out.

“That cut on your side. It needs to be taken care of.” The shade didn’t so much as react as Reed slowly approached the exposed gash on her side. It looked fresh, but it was still oozing slightly and in dire need of attention. “I’ll be right back.” He rummaged through the ancient first-aid kit buried under the bathroom sink and found a few rolls of gauze and a variety of sterile pads.

After some quick web searches, Reed poured a small heap of salt into a water-filled bowl and, after a warning, started to flush the wound and surrounding area as best he could manage with the solution. The shade whined and tensed her body when the saline-soaked pad touched the cut, but mostly remained still. Reed carefully positioned a few sterile pads over the length of the cleaned gash and wrapped the gauze around her trunk, eliciting a faint growl when he pushed the roll of bandages under her soft belly.

Reed washed his hands in the now-pink water bowl. “Not too bad for a first-time adventure in trauma care,” he pondered aloud, “hopefully the cut stays clean at least.” The shade’s breathing had calmed somewhat, and she was now lying on her side on the floor. One half-lidded eye peered at him lazily as he admired his handiwork, and the corner of her lip pulled itself backwards in an exhausted grimace.

Though he didn’t really have anything seriously useful for the pain, Reed produced two hangover-grade ibuprofens from his medicine cabinet and offered them to the shade along with a fresh bowl of water. One distrustful glance later, she took them in her mouth and greedily lapped up water with her wide tongue while Reed helped to support her massive head. A long silence quickly overtook the room.

The shade fell into a proper sleep a few minutes later. Reed carefully set her head on a sofa cushion as he got up again, taking the opportunity to run his hand through her long, silky neck fur. He glanced at his phone to check the time – 8:30 PM. Judging by her exhausted appearance and her injured state, he figured she would likely be out until tomorrow morning. He decided to use the precious evening hours to run out to buy a few more groceries. What he’d brought home earlier was only a week’s worth for him alone, and he doubted that the shade would share his tendency to skip breakfast.

As he wandered the aisles of the grocery, Reed pondered his current situation. The beast was clearly intelligent, and although he didn’t know who or what she was running from, he wasn’t about to dump a living thing back out onto the street to die. Not without getting some answers, anyway. He hoped that he’d have more answers and fewer new questions on Saturday.

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Chp. 3: Revelations
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The shade awoke to the savory smell of fried eggs and bacon. Reed was humming softly as he tended to the various necessities of a continental breakfast. Sunlight cascaded in through the bay window, lending a cozy radiance to the disheveled room.

“Wow, 13 hours of sleep, huh? That’d even be a stretch for me during my college days. Are you feeling any better?  I’m getting some food ready if you’d like.” Reed gestured theatrically to the set of sizzling pans on the corner stovetop.

The shade stretched cautiously, her rounded ears flattening against her skull as she tested her injured side. She eyed Reed nervously, head cocked faintly to the side. “For me?"

“Especially for you. You don’t look like you’ve eaten anything proper for the last few weeks.” Reed dumped the contents of the pan onto a large yellow serving plate and set it on the floor a few feet from where she lay. “This may be a stupid question, but do you have a name? I think we were both a bit overwhelmed yesterday.  I’m Reed, by the way.”

She dragged her eyes away from the plate on the floor to examine Reed quizzically. “I don’t suppose I have a ‘name’ in the same way you humans do, but my pack always called me thistle – It was my favorite flower when I was small.” With a few uneven steps, Thistle positioned herself and began to ravenously devour the steaming contents of the plate. Reed even thought for a moment that he heard a faint purring from the shade as she wolfed down the first good meal she’d had in far too long.

He silently wondered if purring was even a thing that these creatures were capable of. The Grimoire he’d unearthed seemed much more focused on their enormous teeth and needle-sharp claws than any more endearing features. Reed found himself mentally running a hand along the stiffer fur of her sinewy back and dragging his half-closed hand through the downy fluff that covered her thick tail. His train of thought was swiftly derailed when Thistle loudly licked the now-clean plate, her long and flat tongue picking up any small morsels that evaded her previous assault.

After a dozen eggs, half a slab of bacon, and a mixing bowl full of water, Thistle’s hunger finally subsided. She fell back on her haunches, tail swishing side to side, and ran her tongue meticulously along her lips. “That was fantastic, Thank you Reed.”
“It’s no trouble. ‘least you’re making my weekend a bit more interesting. And not eating me.” Thistle chuffed, but her apparent mirth quickly degenerated into a series of rapid, rattling coughs. Reed shifted uncomfortably as her stock-stiff tail slowly relaxed back into a resting position. An awkward silence stormed the room.

“I’m happy to help is all, I mean.” Reed averted his eyes and drew a hand across his chest uncomfortably, “But, I need to know how you got into this kind of mess” From what he remembered of last night, Thistle’s predicament wasn’t an accident – she’d been running from something. Considering that the last beast sighting he’d heard of was a gryphon about the size of a housecat, her presence in the city might have raised quite a few eyebrows.

Thistle’s ears drooped in resignation. “Right.” Her tail began twitching irritably at the tip. “I left my pack to track down a well of magic. It was strong, and I needed it – badly. We’d gotten into a fight with a band of hunters – they hurt my father, and he wasn’t strong enough to heal on his own.” She shot a sideways glance at Reed, who had settled on the floor a respectful distance away. “It was far away – too far. I thought of turning around but coming back with nothing would mean letting my father die. Eventually I found the source – a burned out old hut. I went inside without thinking.”

Thistle was frozen in place, tail shot straight out behind her, tensed forelegs terminating in razor-studded paws. “In there – a dead shade. He hadn’t spent any of his magic and I should have known something was wrong – I should have – “Her rapid breath caught in her throat and she let out a shallow whine. “I got caught in the side by – something – “Thistle went silent, her claws cut deep into the hardwood. “I fell over and someone – some humans jumped on top of me. They held me down and bound me into some old stone. I tried to fight it - to fight for my family - but they kicked at my side until I couldn’t see straight.” Her keening redoubled. “I still remember the last thing he said to me,” Thistle sobbed, “We got you girl. We lost the first few, but we got you. You’re ours forever now.” Wet tears streaked from her tightly shut eyes, marking her downturned muzzle with pitch-black trails.

Reed rose to his feet and approached the destitute creature. Without a word, he threw his arms around Thistle’s neck. She howled and pulled him backwards so that he landed next to her, arms still wrapped tightly around her. Reed Buried his face into her chest fluff, stroking the back of her long neck rhythmically. He whispered wordlessly to her as she coiled around him in a tight embrace. The pair remained locked tightly together until Thistle’s howling broke into hiccupping whimpers. “Mages pulled me back out of the stone every few years to drain me. Always different people, always different places.” Tears splashed down onto Reed’s shirt from above. “Finally, one of them made a mistake. He got too close with the stone and I smashed it. I Ran past him and broke through a window onto the street. I landed badly, but I got away. I needed to find some magic for myself – to rest.” Thistle hiccupped softly. “I went to the nearest well I could see, and that’s what led me to your door.”

Reed stroked the side of the shade’s silky throat. “That’s awful – I’m so sorry – you’re safe now,” He Rambled, “They’re not going to find you here. I promise.” An indeterminate time later, Thistle’s grip relaxed, and the two spilled onto the floor.

Reed Eventually pulled himself back up into a sitting position, his sinewy arms thrown out behind him for support. He stared at Thistle silently. She’d curled her long body around itself and into a tight ball under the shaft of sunlight that glared in through the window. Her long nose was buried in the thick fluff of her tail, and her wide, desolate eyes stared out into the cold light of day.
She looked like she could do with some time alone. Frankly, Reed concluded, they both could. “Thistle, I’m going to step out for a while, alright?” She didn’t so much as flick an ear at him. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.” Following his soft remark, he heaved himself to his feet and slipped backwards down the stairs.

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Chp. 4: Make Yourself at Home
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Reed shouldered his coat and set out into the street. The sun was now high overhead, and the narrow cobblestone road alongside his house had sprung to life. He pushed through the loose crowds of passerby and headed for the center of town. As he meandered through tightly packed rows of shops, his mind remained fixed on Thistle’s predicament.

From what he’d gathered during her outburst, she had nowhere to go and her immediate family was either dead or so far away that they might as well be. She was hurt, scared, and alone in an unfamiliar part of the world and needed somewhere to lay low - at least until she recovered some of her strength.

From what he’d read in “Daemones Occidentis”, shades were supposed to be very close to their packs, and Reed silently hoped that Thistle wasn’t going to do anything drastic after pouring her heart out to him. Reed resolved that he would do his best to make her stay comfortable, regardless of how long it lasted. He decided to sacrifice the spare room next to his to serve as a makeshift nest - he’d need to do some reorganizing, but it would probably be worth it if he could keep an eye on her.

Secretly, he hoped that she’d stick around for at least a little while – aside from a few loose friends at work Reed didn’t get out too much. Having someone around to brighten up the house was something he could quickly get used to. He shook his head vigorously, snapping himself out of the unproductive train of thought. He muttered to himself, “She’ll do whatever she wants to.” Reaching the end of a long city block, he rounded the corner just in time to see an old man produce a stuffed gryphon from his cart and hand it to a gleeful child. Reed strode up to the cart while the vendor settled on a price with the little girl’s mother.  Without thinking, he bought a medium-sized shade plush, tucked it under his shoulder, and turned back around the corner to head home. He reflexively gritted his teeth as the old man called after him, “Your girlfriend’s gonna love it!”

By the time he’d pulled himself out of the ensuing thought spiral, Reed found himself back on his own familiar street. He squinted down the road at his house and sighed with relief when his eyes finally alighted on the still-shut front door. He’d only been out for a bit over an hour, but the fact that Thistle hadn’t taken her leave reassured him. Though he still wasn’t sure if she’d be dexterous enough to turn the handle, he was convinced that she’d have no trouble tearing it from the frame if she wished. she Hurt and malnourished, as she was, Reed still remembered treating her, feeling the thick bands of muscle that ran along her back and belly beneath her dense ebony fur. When She grabbed him upstairs, he could feel a strength beneath her restraint that could have torn him to pieces if she’d willed it.
After discarding his coat by the door, Reed hopped upstairs. He heard something shuffling above him, and slightly quickened his pace. As His head crested the topmost stair, Thistle let out a surprised yip and pulled back from the spare room door with a sharp crack. She turned to face him, tail swishing nervously against the wall; the sundered doorknob still gripped tightly between her jaws. She sheepishly lowered her head and let the dented handle fall onto the floor with a muted thud. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Reed laughed, “Nothing I can’t deal with anyway. ‘Least you’re not putting any more holes in the floor.” The shade glanced down nervously at the claw marks embedded in the center of the room. Reed quickly continued, “Anyway, I thought that you’d be more comfortable if you had a proper room to sleep in. I don’t know if you’re planning to leave just yet, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.”

Thistle’s eyes widened slightly, and she drew herself back up to her full height. Standing, the top of her shoulder came to just above Reed’s elbow. She sidled up to him slowly, her lengthy neck arched upward so that her snout was at his eye-level. “Thank you,” She murmured, “I don’t know where I’d have ended up if not for you.” Maintaining eye contact, she pushed her wet nose against Reed’s chest, leaving a small dark patch on his faded green T-shirt. She pulled back quickly, and Reed reflexively brushed a hand against his sternum.

After a quiet lunch, Reed pulled the cracked door to the spare room off its hinges and set it aside.  After some hurried cleaning, the spare room lay nearly bare before them. Thistle pulled the queen-size mattress from its old metal bedframe as reed pulled the frame apart and stacked the disparate leftover rods in a rough pile by the single side window. Several old blankets were shaken out and dropped at the door, and Thistle wasted no time in spinning them into a roughly circular concavity atop her now lonely mattress. After some tentative circling, she roughly dropped down on top of the whole mass with a groan. Her huge paws kneaded the material up and down rhythmically. “This will do nicely,” She purred, “But I still think there’s one thing missing.” She trotted over to the window and dragged the rose-colored drapes across its face, filtering the oblique sunlight and shading the dimly lit room with a subtle red hue. “Perfect.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with the curious shade cautiously poking around the rest of the house. She took considerable time exploring downstairs, which was chock-full of strange magical items left behind by Reed’s grandfather. After her curiosity died down, Reed changed the dressings on her wound. It was far from healed, but the redness at the edges had died down, and a large scab was beginning to form over the center. Thistle tentatively tugged at the clean dressing with her teeth but abandoned the prospect after Reed’s amused reprisal. Following the exertion, she indulged in a late afternoon nap.

Once Thistle dozed off, Reed slipped into his own room and brushed a cloud of papers off his drafting desk. He pulled up his laptop and quickly ran through the technical specifications that some irritable engineering lead sent him for an electric motor. He set the laptop off to the side, squared up a piece of paper, and started to draw. With ritualistic precision, Reed spaced straight lines with a compass and straight-edge and, stroke by meticulous stroke, built a full ring of identical stator coils all around the central shaft. After over an hour, his meditative state was shattered by the feeling of hot breath pouring down his neck. His pencil skidded across the paper, leaving a thick black scar through the nearly finished rotor.

“Oh - Hi there, Thistle,” Reed muttered, “God, you’re quiet when you want to be.” A trembling left hand reached up and brushed the top of Thistle’s snout. She pulled away with a snort and Hovered her massive head just above Reed’s shoulder. She scented the air before turning her incandescent eyes towards the half-finished sketch. She snaked past him and gave the sheet a gentle nudge. “What is this thing?”

With a plaintive sigh, Reed squared the once again and reached for an eraser. “It’s a sketch for a work project. I was going to finish it while you were sleeping.”

“So that’s what you do – draw things?” Her long tail had curled over to his other side and was slowly beating back and forth between the wall and the legs of his chair. “The other humans that you work with, do they just pull them out of the drawings? That’s a good skill to have.”

“Not quite. I make models that other people use to build those things. I just always start with a sketch No magic involved. Just hard work, dedication, and a lot of time. The way he spat those final words while stiffly erasing the damaged center of the drawing took Thistle by surprise.

“I am sorry for scaring you – I hope I didn’t ruin too much work.” She pulled her body back behind the disgruntled man, leaving her tail splayed dejectedly on the floor. “I thought it was good, even with the mark on it.”

“Well, thanks. It’s not that bad, I just need to redo the center part here – I guess it’s only a few minutes down the drain.” Reed cast the eraser aside, and it clattered along the edge of the table before coming to rest precariously on a corner. He grabbed a fresh pencil and turned back to his work.

“I used to scratch my own picture into trees when I was little. It was really more vandalism than art, I suppose.” A hushed whine emanated from behind the chair as something large settled uncomfortably to the floor. “I know hands would help, but how did you learn to draw so well?”

Reed leaned back in his chair. “Well, practice is a big part of it. but once you’ve got the shape of what you’re drawing done it’s vital to be able to pick out the most defining features. Start there and work outwards. Eventually, you’ll get enough features on the paper that you can feel good about calling the drawing done.”

The tail had started moving again, faster than before. “You should draw me.”

Reed set his hands down on the table and turned his head to look behind him. “I don’t think that I’d do you justice. I usually don’t draw anim-any living things. They don’t come up much in my work, I mean.”

The mischievous tail wagged even more furiously.  “Just pick out my most defining features and work outwards. You made it sound so easy!” Her teasing was accompanied by a firm snout-nudge at Reed’s drawing hand. “Tell me at least, where would you start?”

“If you insist, just don’t go and bite my hand off when it doesn’t come out looking perfect.” After his Blithe reply, Reed set his old work aside, squared up a new sheet of paper, and quickly sketched out a rough outline of Thistle’s triangular head.

“First thing’s definitely your eyes.” Several quick pencil strokes later, two scratchy dinnerplates began to manifest on the triangle. “Then there’s the pointy button nose, and finally your round little ears.” As each was mentioned, they were carefully roughed into the sketch.

“What about my teeth?” A huge black maw snapped loosely shut next to Reed’s ear. A row of deadly, pearly-white teeth hung to the side of his face until its owner was playfully shoved away moments later.

“I’m getting there. It’s from most to least important, remember?” Reed began to pencil in the top and bottom jaws. “Besides, I’ve hardly seen your teeth – I only really notice the two little fangs that sometimes hang out from under your top lip. They’re even doing it now!” Thistle’s tail worked furiously back and forth on the floor. She said nothing, but the sudden straight face she bore belied her mild shock.

After the two finally agreed on the basics, Reed set to detailing the sketch. With the same focus as before he carefully added one clean line after another, highlighting her angular snout and the almost self-illuminating shine in her eyes. The result, he had to admit, bore quite a striking resemblance to the enraptured beast that sat on her haunches before him. Reed set the sketch reverently down on the floor, and Thistle hunched over it, carefully examining each of the fine lines that made up her doppelganger.  Without another word, she snatched it up in her mouth, and trotted out of the room.

Reed took the shade’s sudden disappearance as a good sign and spent another few minutes completing his motor sketch. Finally, he cleaned off all the guide lines, deftly brushed a pile eraser fragments on to the floor, and placed the sketch on top of his laptop. “Later,” he persuaded himself, “I’ll start the model tomorrow.” He heaved himself upwards and strode into the kitchen, rejoining the rest of the world.

He fixed up Four tri-tip steaks, one for himself, two to take the edge off Thistle’s appetite, and the final one to ensure that she didn’t decide to eat him later. He hoped that she’d be comfortable enough with him to ask for more food if she needed it instead of going hungry. Unwilling to broach the subject with the likely-sleeping creature, he instead heaped everything onto a plate and silently hoped that she didn’t mind being woken up as much as he did.

He inched across the room towards the open doorway of Thistle’s makeshift den, wiggling the plate side to side provocatively. “Hey, wake up,” He murmured, “I made some – “

A massive pile blankets in the center of the room practically blew apart following his announcement. With a surprised yip, two wide, wet eyes and the beginnings of a head poked out of the pile. “O-oh,” Thistle sniffled, “I just need a moment.”

A few awkward moments ensued as she laboriously extracted herself from the self-created tomb. Reed noted that the wound on her right side was clearly affecting her more than she tried to let on. After many seconds of struggle, she rolled herself upright on top of the pile. “You made dinner. Thank you.”

Reed stepped forward to set the plate down. He noticed his sketch amongst the wreckage, the formerly immaculate paper pockmarked with numerous wet splotches that smudged the lines. “Uh oh. What’s wrong?” He chuckled guiltily. “I told you it wasn’t going to turn out good.”

“It’s not that – this is the first time anyone’s done anything like this for me.” Thistle suddenly appeared extremely interested in her paws.

Setting the plate down, Reed sat on the nest beside the mourning creature and gently stroked down her disheveled head fluff. “It was no problem,” he reassured her, “But I don’t think that’s actually why you’re upset.”

Thistle leaned into the petting, catching the man off guard and nearly sending him rolling sideways off the pile. “It – it just reminds me of my pack.” A large tear ran down her snout and pooled at the end of her nose. “I need to accept that I won’t see them again.”
“Well, we don’t know that. They could still be out there somewhere.” The lie fell through Reed’s teeth before he could catch it. “I mean, anything’s possible.”

The shade looked warily at Reed. “Really? Do you think so?” Her tail emerged from the pile, weakly twitching. “We could use magic to track them down – do you have any spells that work that way?”

Reed shook his head, mentally chastising himself for offering false hope. “Well, I don’t think – I didn’t learn any tracking spells. Hell, the only spells I can really do at all are the ones you have to draw.” He filled the ensuing silence with an explanation, “Besides, it’s not like I had any spare Magic lying around to practice with when I was learning.”

“What do you mean? It should be everywhere.” Quizzically, she lifted her snout and scented the air. “There is plenty in here.”
“A lot of that’s leftover from my granddad’s old crap. In fact, You’re the first thing I’ve seen with any more than a whiff of Magic stuck to you in years.” Reed flexed the hand that was buried in Thistle’s mane, causing a static-like crackle to fill the air. “You’ve got a lot more than a whiff on you, that’s for sure. If anything, you’ve got more on you than when we first met.”

Thistle’s snaky body heaved with a sigh. “Well, yes. It’s sort of like a second coat. We – I need it to survive and, If I am doing well, I make extra magic that I can’t use. That leftover falls off into the air or onto the ground, where you humans can pick it up. Did you think It just grew on trees?”

Her head fell, pulling away from Reed’s outstretched hand. “If there’s no magic lying around, it means that they’re all dead.” A barely perceptible whine escaped her. “Either dead or trapped like I was.”

“I think a lot of the stuff I was taught suddenly makes sense.” Reed’s hand reflexively grabbed at his hair as he felt himself slipping into a thought spiral. “We only learned offensive spells and basic artifices, and every time the college dropped – killed another beast, our practice hours got cut.” He shakily stood up. “The Magic didn’t just die, it was murdered.”

He quickly recollected himself. “I’m sorry about your family, Thistle. He turned back towards her and reached an arm out to stroke her again. Her eyes were screwed shut, and tears leaked down her angular cheeks to stain the old patchwork quilt that loosely cradled her head.

An idea forced its way into Reed’s mind. He deftly released the shade’s neck and trotted downstairs. He retrieved the shade plush that he’d purchased earlier from its hastily chosen hiding place behind the stairs and returned hesitantly to Thistle’s den.

“I got this for you earlier. I thought it was stupid in hindsight – it probably still is.” He offered the plush to her. It looked almost comical in comparison to the real thing – its paws were much larger than they should be, and while reed could quite comfortably rest his entire outstretched hand on the top of Thistle’s head, he could wrap his fingers around to the plush’s ears with the same grip.

Thistle eyed the offering for a moment before scenting it with a cautiously outstretched nose. She carefully took it in her jaws and set it between her two front paws. She ran her long tongue along the plush’s back, alternately smoothing and roughing its fur. A few of these cycles later, she dropped her head on top of the damp and disheveled toy with a whimper.
“Thank you, Reed.” Thistle’s huge yellow eyes closed again and, though tears still streamed down her dark face, it seemed as though she was done discussing her grief.

“Good night, Thistle.” Reed crept out of the now-dark room, leaving Thistle once more to her own devices.  Hours later, he returned to check on her and found the plush toy rhythmically bobbing up and down in a coil of warm black fur. The plate of food stood cold and untouched at the edge of the nest.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chp. 5: Coping with Competition
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunday morning arrived all too soon for Reed, and the glaring light of morning lanced through partially open blinds and right into his defenseless eyes. He weakly threw his hand out in front of his face in a futile attempt to return to the comfortable abyss of sleep.

Once his foggy eyes had cleared, they were presented with a scene of absolute carnage – his drafting corner looked as though a tornado had ripped through it. Finished sketches were scattered about even more erratically than usual, and the once-neat stack of blank sheets had mysteriously disappeared, save for a few badly perforated stragglers. The old coffee cup he used to store his different pens and pencils was turned over on its side, and the embossed silver Mages’ College logo on its side caught the sunlight, which assaulted his eyes from a new angle.

He rolled out of bed and, with a sense of somber purpose, began to clean up the mess. Though his sleep-riddled mind was never really in doubt about the perpetrator’s identity, his eyes still reflexively followed the trail of lightly savaged papers out of his door and around the corner.

After rescuing some of the more important implements from beneath his bed, Reed stalked into the main room, ready to give Thistle several pieces of his mind. Upon rounding the corner, however, all his ire evaporated immediately in an involuntary giggle.

Thistle was coiled in the far corner of the room with her head down and a comically undersized pen clutched firmly in her jaws. She was using the utensil to awkwardly assault a sheet of paper that lay between her front paws. Her tail mirrored the sharp poking motions made by her head, lending her motions an almost dancelike quality. Judging by the pile of ink-stained rejects that spiraled out from her resting place, she wasn’t having much luck.

The sudden noise at the doorway shattered the shade’s intense focus. She squinted at Reed with eyes almost as bleary as his own. “You broke my concentration.”

As she stared across the room at the bewildered man, Thistle’s expression of vague annoyance quickly transitioned into confusion, followed slowly by a smirk of vague realization. “I have decided that I want to learn how to draw.” Her matter-of-fact delivery was punctuated by the clatter of the slightly damp pen falling from her jaws and onto the floor.

“Not having much luck, are you?” Reed gestured to a particularly mangled page. “You’ve got to put the ink ON the paper, not THROUGH it – I’d definitely start there if you want to improve your technique.” The lame joke was received with a flat chuff from across the room.
“This is more difficult than you made it out to be,” Thistle sighed, “I almost feel cheated.” With a groan, she uncoiled her long body and flopped loosely onto the floor. “I know what features I want to add, but I can’t put them down properly.”

“Remember what I said last night – being able to visualize stuff is really important, but practice has to come first. If you’re really interested, I could teach you later.” Reed huffily retrieved his pen from where it landed by the shade’s large paw. “After I buy some more art supplies, I guess.”

A long awkward silence filled the room as Reed wiped the pen down on his pants leg, and searched the hallway for its demolished cap. He abandoned the prospect as hopeless after some minutes of searching.

“I might as well make us some breakfast then,” Reed sighed, “You want anything in particular?” He flung open the fridge door. The smell of fresh ingredients finally cut through the remaining tatters of sleep that clung to his mind. The pair agreed on a repeat appearance of eggs and bacon from Saturday.

Reed’s first impromptu art lesson was rudely interrupted by the angry buzz of his phone. He picked it out of his pocket with a single hand, his eyes still focused on the strangely dexterous movements of Thistle’s snout. It hadn’t taken long for her to vastly improve her pen control.

“Shit.” Reed leapt from his resting position on the side of Thistle’s nest, phone clutched tightly in one hand. “Shitshitshitshit.” A trail of hushed expletives followed him all the way out the door and into the bathroom.

“What is wrong?” Thistle stared cross-eyed down the barrel of the pen at the escaping figure, tail swishing anxiously. “I can start again if you wish.” Her pleas were rebuffed by the hasty slam of the bathroom door.

“It’s not you,” Reed shouted through the door, “It’s my own fault for forgetting about the first date I’ve had in nearly a goddamn year.” The latter half of the already muffled sentence was nearly drowned out by the sudden hiss of a shower. He emerged 5 minutes later; his head still submerged in a half-donned T-shirt.

“I’ll be back soon – try not to destroy the place!” Reed sprinted down the stairs, snatching his wallet and keys from its perch on the railing as he flew by.

“Reed wait, what is a – “ Thistle’s eyes followed the running man down the stairs. Her ears pricked up and her tail twitched with each heavy descending footstep. As the front door slammed, she let out a low whimper and let the pen fall from her mouth with a muted thud.

+++

“I had a great time – let’s definitely do this again – yeah? – Yeah, how about the Laguna downtown? Ok – ok – sounds great. Wednesday It is then!” Reed waved goodbye to the retreating figure in the twilight outside and gently shut the door. Once he heard the click, he leaned his back up against the door, hand still gripping the knob. He wasn’t certain yet, but it seemed like he might have pulled it off.

He waited for his heartrate to slow before he shakily peeled himself off the solid oak at his back and reopened his eyes. “Shit!” He yelled, “I pulled it off!” No sooner had the words escaped his lips than he saw two huge enormous eyes blink on in the darkness before him. Though he was fairly certain he was safe from disembowelment, Thistle’s sudden appearances still caused him to jump.

“Who was that?” Thistle’s latter half protruded awkwardly down the stairs, The normally relaxed fur of her neck and chest was puffed outward uncharacteristically, and her nose twitched back nervously in the direction of the mysterious almost-intruder.

Reed finished composing himself and started up the stairs. “That, Thistle, was my date.”

Thistle rigidly stalked towards the door, looking straight through the human and out through the narrow windowpanes set into the top of the front door. She slunk down onto the bottom step, pushed her nose right into the Reed’s chest, and deeply sniffed him. “Is she a friend from your work? I didn’t know you worked so closely with other humans.”

Perplexed by her reaction, Reed tried to push her head away from his chest. “Her name’s Zoe - we met a while back on the train – the night I met you, actually.” He shifted awkwardly as Thistle’s investigation shifted down his body, finally ending with a huff at Reed’s old beaten sneakers. “I guess we both got lucky, huh?”

Thistle’s unamused eyes snapped back up to meet Reed’s. “What is a ‘date’? Is this something that you would do while at your work?” She peeled her snout off Reed’s squirming frame and retreated a few feet up the stairs behind her.

Reed sighed nervously. “I guess it’s like courtship would be for you. When a guy meets someone-“ His feeble attempts at explanation were cut short by Thistle’s neck fur shooting straight up. She looked like she’d been struck by lightning.

“Courtship?” The shade’s stock-still head and wide yellow eyes remained fixed on Reed even though the rest of her body was trying its hardest to reverse up the stairs. “What – what do you mean? I have never smelled her on you before.” Her semi-retractable claws faintly scrabbled against the boards, trying and failing to find footholds in her mock scramble.

“Well, we were only talking a few days ago.” Reed restlessly scratched the back of his neck. “I took her out to a restaurant today and we really seemed to hit it off.” His eyes darted upwards to avoid meeting another one of Thistle’s soul-searching stares. “I mean, we really hit it off.”

Thistle’s fur bristled again, sending a wave of dark coloration all the way down the length of her lithe body. “How did – how could you trust someone you do not know at all like that?”

“It’s probably a bit more casual with humans than with you. If two humans are, well,” Reed shifted on his feet and started shuffling towards the stairs. “It’s pretty late. Let’s get you some food and talk another time, okay?”

“Do you want to have sex with her?”

“What difference does it make to you?” The directness of the question tore straight through Reed’s cordial demeanor. “This feels a lot like an interrogation, Thistle. I’m not sure what you’re hoping to get out of these questions, but it’s honestly none of your business.”

“None of my business?” Thistle’s wide eyes searched the ceiling before she dropped herself down into a hunched pose. “If she decided to come in to, well, mate with you, she could have seen me. What then?”

“What are you even talking about? Zoe didn’t even cross the damn doorstep.” Spitting his words, Reed flung his coat onto the rack and stomped towards the deflating shade. “I’m not dealing with this right now. I’m going to sleep.”

Thistle shrunk deep into the corner to allow the human to storm his way past her up the stairs. After a few seconds of crushing silence, Reed’s coat collapsed off its precarious perch on the rack with a scraping thud. Thistle crawled upstairs much later to find the stack of cold and uneaten steaks from last night had been hastily dumped out of the fridge and into a metal mixing bowl.

+++

The first part of the morning passed largely without incident. Although Reed eyed his guest with some contempt during their third enormous breakfast together, he soon regained his carefree outlook on life as he became more certain that things between himself and Thistle had returned to their familiar semblance of normal.

Given her complicated history with nearly all the people she’d met, having a phobia of humans was perfectly fair. She’d been through a lot recently, Reed considered, and he resolved that he would be a bit more careful with who he invited over for the time being. He did his best to push thoughts of the long-term out of his head. If she couldn’t handle a single person at the door, how would she be able to survive when she eventually took off again?

“Hey, I’m sorry about last night, okay?” Reed’s voice broke the amicable silence.“It was late, and I didn’t really expect to be ambushed like that as soon as I got home.”

“I’m sorry too,” Thistle responded, “I should not have poked my nose where it did not belong.” Her eyes remained focused on the far wall during her apology, and though her tail seemed to be at ease, an occasional twitch belied some subtle emotion stirring deep within her.

The awkwardness was rapidly blown away by the blaring of a phone alarm from across the room. Running a hand through his sandy hair, Reed dragged himself up from the table and silenced the device with a prejudicial swipe of his hand. “Looks like it’s that time again. God, time flies, right?” He began to stroll into his room to change for work but stopped short when he noticed the luminous stare directed at him. “Uh, what’s the matter?”

“How long do you think you will be gone?” Thistle was shifting her weight around nervously, her tail playing side to side as though it were being pursued by some unseen predator. “What if someone comes in while you are away?”

“Thistle, don’t worry about it. This is a safe neighborhood – people won’t just let themselves in.” Though the pair had discussed his day job before, it seemed quite clear to Reed that the implications of his impending  absence were only now reaching the vulnerable creature.  A pang of guilt shot through him as he realized that he was about to abandon her for so much of the day.

“Look, I’ll only be gone for a bit, okay?” Reed’s eyes desperately searched the room for something to focus upon aside for the vulnerable ball of fur that was currently pleading with him. Suddenly, an idea shot into his mind. “Here, come with me.”

Reed led Thistle into his room, popped open his laptop, and fired up a video chat app. “I’ll try to call you on here at around lunch time. That’s probably about 5-ish hours from now. Just watch this screen, and you should see me pop up. I’ll need to be a bit subtle about it, but we can at least let each other know that we’re okay.”

Thistle’s eyes widened as she gave the screen a curious nudge with her snout. “Is this a kind of seeing stone? I have never seen one so big or so clear before.” The device’s touchscreen responded to her probing, causing the small machine to hum to life.

“Oh!” Thistle leapt back with a start and caught her rear leg on Reed’s bedframe, causing the whole thing to jerk back an inch or so. The unexpected loud noise once again alarmed her, causing her to throw her ears back and drop her belly to the floor.

Reed giggled at her display and folded the laptop back into a resting position. He started a conference and connected his phone to the other end. After a few seconds, his face appeared on the laptop’s screen.

“Hi Thistle. how’s it going?” The echoing voice on his laptop caused Thistle’s ears to prick forwards.

“H-hello,” Thistle said apprehensively, “Where did you learn to do this?” She snaked her head side to side, confused at the lack of parallax in the virtual scene. Reed shifted the phone away from his face, causing Thistle to start once more at the sudden change in the scene.

“This way you’ll at least have something to look at.” Reed turned off the app on his phone, causing the screen to suddenly go dark. “I can even leave the phone on during my train ride – give you some kind of tour of the city”

Thistle’s eyes snapped back onto the human. She was evidently much more relaxed, and her tail swished back and forth with some nervous amusement. “Yes, I think I would like that very much, Reed. Thank you.”

Reed nodded jovially and began to set out towards the staircase. “Remember, I’ll be back soon. Try to keep that in mind.” With that final remark, he descended the stairs and set off into the street.

Minutes later, Aesall’s skyline popped up in miniature relief on the laptop screen. After some awkward seconds, the picture zoomed in on a small herd of buildings in the center left. “This is the downtown row. I work right down there, on West End. I’m going to take a walk down to the train station and ride it over there.”

“Oh, it is beautiful in the daytime!” A muffled and crackly voice returned through the phone. Reed realized that he’d forgotten to brief the shade on the concept of speaking into the microphone. At least he’d remembered to tape over the laptop camera so as to avoid making a scene in public. “I’d only seen a few streets in the dark – it is much bigger than I had imagined.”

Reed turned the camera towards himself and smiled. “And these,” He said, gesturing magnanimously behind him, “are my people. This is the train that I ride every weekday. It goes over the city square clear across to the other side of town. You get a great view from up here – my favorite part of living in the city.”

After quickly giving thistle a panoramic view of the car’s interior, he pointed the phone back out onto the city. The train began to accelerate, quickly reaching a good speed as it ascended onto its elevated rails and whizzed towards the bustling heart of town.
“See, this isn’t as bad as you thought, huh?” Reed’s voice was partially drowned out by the mechanical hum of the train.

“It is much nicer than I expected. I have never really had the time to explore a real human settlement before. My pack stumbled across an old abandoned village long ago, but we were too busy hunting to be able to stop.” She paused momentarily. “We did not want to stop, either. My mother always told me that humans brought bad luck with them wherever they went.”

“Do you think she was right?” Reed’s question hung in the air for a few seconds, with only the gentle vibration of the train and a slight rustling from the other end of the phone filling the silence.

“Well, humans did capture me and steal me away from my home.” Thistle spoke apprehensively, carefully considering her words. “However, a human also took me in when I escaped. I suppose, then, that it depends on the human.”

 “I think you’re damn right,” Reed chuckled darkly, “It depends on the human.”

The conversation largely died down, with Reed showing off more of the city’s skyline as the train trundled along on its familiar route. Finally, the train screeched to a gentle halt at the west-end station, Reed’s end-of-the-line.

As he stepped up from his seat, Reed noted with mild horror that his fellow passengers had vacated the seats around him and were staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity.  Indeed, he remembered, only purrs, yowls, and the occasional yip had been escaping his phone for the better part of 30 minutes. Reed had remained so engrossed in his role as an impromptu tour guide that he’d forgotten that Thistle’s Magic-made ‘voice’ was only in his head. He stepped awkwardly from the train, and hurriedly continued down towards West End.

“Alright, I’ve got about 5 minutes of walking left. I’m coming up on the town square now.” The phone scrolled past the old cathedral at the heart of town, moving in a large loose bend across the town square. Mist from the fountains caught the morning light and lent the entire picture an iridescent quality.

“I lied,” Reed laughed, “This is my favorite part of living here. We need to figure out a way to get you out here. Trust me when I say that it’s even better in person.” Reed took the wordless purr on the other end of the line as a good indicator and continued his journey.

Finally, he arrived at the front doors to his building, and said his goodbyes to Thistle. “I’ll talk to you again at lunch, 5 hours from now. Promise.”

“goodbye Reed.” Thistle’s purr was the last thing that carried through the line before Reed tapped at his phone and left the call.

+++

At lunch, Reed sat down in a secluded section of the courtyard outside of his office and joined back into the video call, eager to see how Thistle had been holding up. He stood up in panic when he noticed that his phone was now the only device on the call.

His productivity spiraled as he robotically paced around the fourth-floor office in a cold sweat. He knew that Thistle was nervous being alone, and rightfully so. He hadn’t really considered her side of the situation - If she had really gotten away from someone in the Mages’ college, they would certainly be searching for her. She was quite possibly the last of her kind, and that would make her invaluable in the wrong hands.

After too many excruciating hours, Reed finally found himself riding the train back across town. Though the city was gorgeous when illuminated in the early evening sunset, he couldn’t focus on anything but the possible danger that his friend could be facing. His mind raced faster and faster, playing through any number of horrible scenarios. In every case, his brain failed to find an outcome that allowed him to move on from her.

As Reed hurried off the train, he realized that he’d never really felt this way about someone before – this seemed to be more than the simple kindness he’d initially believed it to be. He couldn’t help but feel that his emotions for Thistle ran deeper in a way that he wasn’t sure that he could fully explain. His brisk walk rapidly morphed into a run, and finally a sprint as he barreled through the front door of his house.

The bottom of the stairs was shrouded in darkness, and Reed’s eyes struggled to adjust to the gloomy interior of the room. He threw himself up the stairs, and nearly fell flat on his face when his foot slipped on something. His elbow smashed into the hardwood stair, breaking the worst of his fall. He fell prostrate on the floor, cradling his arm. His eyes barely focused on a dark puddle that lay ominously on the middle step. He leaned over and unceremoniously dropped a finger in the puddle. When he drew his hand back to his face, he saw that it was stained a deep crimson.

Reed’s face fell, and he hauled himself back up to his feet and resumed his charge up the stairway. “Thistle,” he hissed, “Please be okay. Please.” His heart sunk further as his frantic gaze crossed a pile of torn and freshly bloody bandages that were seemingly abandoned in the center of the shadowy stairway.

He sprinted around the corner on the second floor, narrowly avoiding being dropped by another crimson puddle on the floor. He followed a series of messy drips up the final flight. Time moved as if in slow motion, and his eyes remained fixed on the increasingly large spots of blood and carmine pawprints that now encrusted the dark boards of his floor. Finally, he threw himself through the doorway and into thistle’s room, practically falling on top of the disheveled pile of blankets that lay still in the center of the room.

The pile of blankets softly yelped and shifted weakly under the weight of the human’s awkward landing. “What – who’s there?”
Reed dug through the pile, which eventually shifted to reveal Thistle’s gigantic head. Her eyes opened dreamily and, with great effort, focused on the outline of the human kneeling next to her.

“Oh,” she whispered, “You did come back for me.” Her voice wafted into his head like it was carried on a breeze from far away. “I thought you’d left. You – you promised-“

“Thistle, what’s wrong? What did you do?” Reed’s hands worked furiously at her makeshift tomb until he felt it – he pulled the remaining sheets away to reveal a large crimson bloom emanating from beneath her shoulder, soaking into the mattress and throwing the scene into stark relief against the dim golden hues of the rapidly setting sun.

With herculean effort, Reed rolled the half-conscious shade over onto her side. She began to pant softly, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as her head sprawled sideways onto the floor. “I felt so trapped in them, Reed. I could hardly breathe with them on, so I bit them right off.” She blinked slowly. “I went upstairs and waited for you – you said you would be there.”

Reed took off his shirt and pressed it down hard onto the reopened gash. Blood leaked freely from Thistle’s side, and before long his makeshift compress and hands were completely soaked. “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry.” Tears tracked their way down the sides of his face. “I tried to get back in, I did. You weren’t on the other side.”

Thistle’s eyes finally closed as every sign of stress slowly melted from her face. “It’s alright, Reed,” she murmured, “You came back – you’re the only one who has come back.” With the last bit of strength, she had, she pulled her head forward and planted her muzzle softly onto Reed’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around the back of her neck and gently followed her head down to floor.
The last thing she heard that night was the desperate pleas of a man’s voice telling her to just stay awake.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chp. 6: Drastic Measures
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next two days passed in a blur. Thistle was lapsing in and out of consciousness, and a distressed Reed alternated between caring for her and collapsing by her side out of his own exhaustion. After missing a day of work, he tersely rebuffed a slew of worried calls from co-workers and his manager, simply stating that he’d be cashing in some much-needed vacation time.

The first time he had changed her bandages all those days ago, the then-reluctant Thistle was at least providing some assistance in handling her enormous form. With her unconscious, however, Reed was left with the herculean task of maneuvering her body alone.

As Reed’s shaking hands played across the shorter fur on the female’s belly, Reed realized just how warm she felt. He wasn’t certain on the specifics of shade biology, but it seemed quite clear to him that she was suffering from a high and rapidly worsening fever. As he rolled her over to wrap the dressing behind her back, He couldn’t help but wonder how a healthy shade would react to receiving belly rubs. His sleep-deprived mind rapidly descended into a mire of thoughts - him petting Thistle, feeling her rumbling purr through his chest as she lay on her back in his arms. He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and quietly resumed his somber task.

With the first aid finally complete, Reed sheepishly stood over the shade’s near-lifeless form. She was lying awkwardly on her side now, half of her body laying on the pile of stained blankets that had composed her nest. Her legs sat at awkward angles, splayed out to minimize contact with each other in a futile attempt to cool down. The last set of fresh dressings that Reed owned were already stained a light red in a few spots, and the loose bandages around her chest were skew and clumsily overlapped.

A quick glance at the now-ragged wound that had sunken deep into her ribcage confirmed that it wasn’t closing like it had before. Though the injured shade had initially thrashed around in discomfort when he tried to clean it, her protests had grown weaker hour by hour. What was once spirited discomfort was replaced by delirious moaning, and thoughts that began as fully formed sentences devolved into gibberish as they continued far past their reasonable stopping point.

An increasingly worried Reed ransacked the downstairs area, searching desperately for any information or artifacts that his grandfather might have secreted away in the corners of his old home. During the later hours of his desperate search, a thought began to form unbidden in the back of his mind, despite his best efforts to push it out.

That evening, during one of the shade’s rare bouts of lucidity, Reed kneeled by her side and softly stroked her downy neck fur. “How’re you feeling?”

“Am I going to die?” Thistle stared wild-eyed up at the human, a tear escaping down the side of her wet face. “I don’t want to die. Not yet anyway – “ Her weak protests were cut short as her whole body was wracked with an involuntary shiver.

“You’re not going to die, not if I can help it.” Reed fixed his grip around her head and held it steady until her fit had passed. “You’re very sick, but people have recovered from worse.”

“I’m not people.” The matter of fact statement cut the weak air of hopefulness in the room to tatters. “I am not a person – not a human. I was told my whole life not to get caught by humans because if I did I would get sick and I would die.” She started to whimper. “And now here I am – caught up by a human, and I am sick, and I am dying.” She began to heave, causing small rivulets of red blood to well up on her side and further mat the white fabric of her bandages.

Her misery was interrupted by Reed shifting his hands to her upper neck and turning her head to look at him. “You’re going to get better because I don’t think I could deal with you getting worse.” Reed sighed hotly, “I forgot how nice it is to have someone at home to talk to – you’re my friend, Thistle, and I have precious few of those as it is. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let one die right here in my house.”

The thought that had been incubating in Reed’s mind forced its way out into the open. “I used to study with the Mages’ College, yeah?” He pushed past the fearful glance that was suddenly cast in his direction. “I couldn’t do potions for shit – nobody I knew could, but we still had to learn.”

The man gripped handfuls of the black fur below him hard, riding out another violent shudder. “Ingredients were limited, and we only did a few potions every year. Still, I remember an ancient little cabinet up on the fourth floor. This nasty old lady used to unlock it every other week it and throw out these little sachets of herbs onto our desks.” His eyes screwed shut briefly as he stood up. “I’ll be back soon – I promise.”

“Wait – what – where are you going? I don’t…want…” Thistle had started to fade, and her infrequent shuddering was slipping into a constant weak tremor. Her tongue spilled out onto the floor again, no doubt from a mixture of exhaustion and stress. Her shallow breathing hitched slightly, causing her eyes to widen and her head to jump up from its resting position on the cool hard floor. Slowly, she drooped again, and returned to a state of semi-alertness, staring at nothing out the curtain-covered window.

Wordlessly, Reed kneeled again to firmly hug the creature’s neck, relishing tearfully in what he thought might be the last hug that Thistle would be able to remember. With a sense of vague dread, he set off down the moonlit road towards the decrepit outline of the Mages’ College.

It had been a long time since Reed’s last visit to the old college grounds. He’d originally vowed to never return to the place – there was too much history in the place that he’d hoped to never unearth. As he crossed the chipped stone steps that led to the disheveled main hall, he was plagued by uninvited memories of his rigorous training.

He remembered standing out in the open, practicing casting forms in excruciating detail until he and his classmates could barely stand, siphoning every microscopic speck of the Magic out of the air. He remembered the intoxicating euphoria of the stuff, feeling it coil through his muscles and brain, filling him with an unspeakably perfect sense vitality. He also remembered the spearing pains and fever dreams that accompanied its eventual departure if he clung to it for too long. No discipline was needed for the students who tried to hide magic from the school, as the withdrawals killed them when they finally lost control of it.

Reed remembered the almost sexual pleasure of draining magic from Thistle’s coat when they’d first met – how the rush of energy through his body had caused him to black out and fall to the floor. He wondered in hindsight whether the exertion had hurt her.

His cautious stride carried him up to the tightly shut oak doors of the hall. He glanced at the cobbles by his feet as tens of thousands of iridescent glass shards caught his eye, glinting weakly in the moonlight. His gaze traveled upward, finally landing on the shattered window some 30 feet above him.

“This must be the window that Thistle broke through,” Reed mused, “Place looks proper abandoned though.”  No attempts had been made to repair the glass or even to board up the gaping hole that now marred the building’s face. Still, the realization that the shade had made her escape right where he stood set him slightly on edge.

He pressed his ear against the door for a minute, listening intently for any sounds of life within the cold hall. Hearing nothing, he pushed down hard on the door, and after much protest, it creaked halfway open before jamming itself against the now-uneven tiles that jutted from the heavily shadowed floor.

The man crept silently through the first floor, the faint tap-tapping of his footfalls serving as the only ambiance within the building. He continued almost on autopilot up the winding double-stairs, finding himself at last on the top level of the structure.

Reed fumbled in his pockets in nearly complete darkness and held his breath as he switched on the dim light on his phone. Once his eyes had adjusted to the slightly reduced gloom, he wandered through the myriad hallways until he finally stumbled across a familiar classroom. Old pieces of broken glassware lined laboratory shelves behind a cluster of workbenches. Pieces of arcane instruments lay discarded on the floor, and the place looked as though it’d been picked through numerous times. He tentatively wandered through the colossal wreck, casting his dim light into every nook and cranny of the chaotic scene. Finally he saw the familiar oak cabinet in the very rear of the room. It sat resolutely under a half-pile of shattered glass, splintered shelves, and any number of crumpled pieces of paper.

Working quickly now, Reed shoveled bits of debris away from his prospective prize. Finally freeing it from the rubble, he pulled on the small silver handle on its face only to be rewarded with the stubborn thunking of the sealed locking mechanism. He sat back for a moment, considering his options. Unlike everything else in the pile, the obviously enchanted cabinet stood nearly pristine even after years of neglect.

Reed felt along the surface of the wood, testing the magical boundaries of the box. Though there was a powerful warding spell laid upon it, the magic that tied it together was old and starting to fray at the edges. Though he could try his best to break the ward if he had magic of his own and spare time, he was sadly short on both. Throwing stealth to the wayside, Reed took an old board in his hands and swung it at the cabinet’s face as hard as he could. The board evaporated into splinters as it struck the cabinet’s face, but not before leaving a sizeable dent in the once-pristine surface of the door.

A few loud crashes later, Reed’s shaking, bloodied hands tore the splintered door from the container and began to pick through the disheveled ingredients. The numerous blows that he’d delivered to the cabinet had knocked many vials over, and their spilled contents had collected in a loose pile on the tile floor below.

After much searching, Reed found a few undamaged parcels of potion base. Most of the ingredients used in potions, tinctures, and other types of biological alchemy remained common in the world. As it turned out, the extinction of a few plants – sageradish and nec divinarum - were responsible for the death of the entire school of alchemy.

Those plants absorbed the magic into their leaves, and the imbued plant matter acted as a catalyst to allow the body to absorb raw magical energy.

Slowly, Reed picked out the other ingredients that he would need for a basic healing tincture. The cabinet’s stocks were sorely lacking in many areas, and It would take some experimental-at-best substitutions in order to produce something useful. He ended up tucking several questionable ingredients under his arm, including an old vial of opium tincture, some tobacco, and three different garden herbs. He searched around the room for a working potion still and, finding nothing, set off towards the door – it wouldn’t take too much effort to cobble one together out of his grandfather’s junk back at home.

As Reed rounded the corner out of the lab, a brilliant flash caught his eye. He reflexively dropped into a channeling stance just as a bolt of white-hot fire caught him squarely in the shoulder, flinging his body sideways and sending his parcel of meticulously-gathered ingredients skittering across the floor.

With a shout of pain, Reed drew the residual energy from the firebolt out of the air into his body, wincing at the sizzling sound of his own rapidly burning flesh. With his one still-good arm, he flung a sputtering yellow projectile back towards the silhouette of the attacker. Though the spell lacked any real power, Reed’s assailant was clearly not expecting a fight, and was already walking down the hall towards him.  The makeshift acid arrow caught the shadow squarely in the neck, and a loose gurgle escaped them as they crumpled into the shadows.

Reed staggered over to inspect the lifeless figure.  A man of average build lay face-down on the ground, dressed in loose-fitting streetclothes. Reed rolled the corpse over in order to get a better look at his assailant. The unmistakable face of one of his former classmates stared back up at him. Reed couldn’t remember his name - D-something - in the heat of the moment, but he remembered the face like he’d seen it yesterday. His hands still clutched a wicked boar spear. Inset into the crossbar, about 12 feet along the haft, sat a dense and dark object.

Reed pulled the curio from its loose socket and turned it over once or twice in his good hand. It seemed to be a gem – a large garnet – inscribed up and down with extremely detailed runes and sigils. Though he wasn’t sure of its function, the humming energy that it radiated was enough to convince him to pocket it. Shakily, he recollected what he could of his ingredients before hearing footsteps pounding up the stairs opposite him. He ducked into a side-passage and sprinted down the fire stairs back into the sleeping city.
He’d made it about halfway home before the adrenaline wore off. Vision went fuzzy as Reed was suddenly made aware of the searing pain that rocketed through his left arm. He didn’t dare look at the wound, opting instead to try and convince himself that the hit couldn’t have been so bad if he was still running. He quickened his pace as much as his screaming mind would allow.

Sweating bullets, he stumbled up to the second floor. He began to assemble glassware, barely clinging to consciousness as a wall of numbness began to creep up his ruined arm and into his shoulder. After sending a boiling flask spinning to the floor, he managed to mix the opium tincture in with the potion base and a few other simple ingredients. The Resulting goop was heated over his stove burner for what seemed like far too long. The slightly burned goop was scooped onto a paper towel and allowed to cool.

Reed removed his torn jacket and glanced briefly at where He’d been hit. The formerly smooth skin of his shoulder was sundered, leaving a massive blackened crater. The fabric of his shirt had melted into the wound, and long trails of rapidly forming blisters marked the trails of plasma that the firebolt had blown into after its impact. With a sharp hiss, Reed peeled back his shirt and greedily smeared the poultice across his ruined shoulder.

The relief that he felt was almost instantaneous, with the wound rapidly scabbing over and feeling returning to his extremities. He’d been dealt a glancing blow and the caster’s form wasn’t perfect, but the amount of punch delivered by that firebolt was substantial. Reed realized that if not for his now-ruined leather jacket, he might not have been left with an arm worth saving.

Flexing his shoulders rewarded Reed with with pins-and-needles spears of pain that ran up and down his arm through its still-limited range of motion. After the moderately successful trial run, he crossed his fingers and began to mix another batch of tincture for Thistle.

By the time the second helping of mediocre salve had been prepared, Reed’s own wound had healed to point that it now had the appearance of a bad burn that was about 2 weeks old. The pain he felt, though substantial, was measurably dulled by the potion’s effects, and nearly all the feeling had returned to his fingertips.

He transported the entire container of salve into Thistle’s den, rolled her onto her side, and began to apply the thick paste directly onto her weeping wound. A protracted sigh of relief escaped her half-open mouth as her panting slowed and deepened back into a more normal breathing pace. Her legs leaned outwards in a stiff catlike stretch, and her tail coiled tightly before straightening itself back out, appearing almost as though it was rebooting. Her final posture was far more relaxed, and her fluttering eyelids abated their manic dance in favor of locking the creature into a deep and restful sleep.

Exhausted, Reed laid his head down next to the sleeping shade and ran his hand through her silky neck fur. His fingers trailed along the coarser fur on her side, tracing above the now rapidly closing wound that had plagued her for days. He drifted off listening to the slow and steady sound of her breathing.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chp. 7: Confessions
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Reed awoke with a start some time early in the morning, finding himself now thoroughly entangled in the still-sleeping creature beside him. His head lay firmly on Thistle’s belly, and his shoulder ached dully from the weight of a heavy snout resting upon it. Hot, sweet-smelling breath gently brushed against his exposed neck, causing him to shift awkwardly in an attempt to extricate himself from the pile. His stirring roused the enormous coil of fur, and two eyes materialized in the black mass on his chest to blink slowly at him.

“Mhhm… Good morning.” The shade’s maw stretched open into a wide yawn, exposing a set of wicked, pearly white fangs that glinted in the half-light of the bedroom. She stretched her legs out in front of her awkwardly, trying her best to avoid scratching Reed’s legs with her razor-sharp claws.

“Morning Thistle,” Reed sputtered, “ I was… I guess I was a bit more tired than I thought.” He struggled to pull his feet out from the tangle of fur and cloth beneath him. “How’re you feeling?”

Thistle seemed more awake now, and her nose snaked its way over to the wound on her side. She probed tentatively along the length of the still-open wound, crossing her eyes to examine the dried paste that covered it from the elements. Finally satisfied, she ended her inspection with a quick barrage of licks. She immediately regretted the decision and began to try to clear the doubtlessly foul taste of the potion from her mouth.  “Much better, thanks. What did you give me last night?”

Reed fought the urge to jab a finger into her extended tongue as she licked the roof of her mouth with mild disgust – though he was quite certain that the move wouldn't cost him his hand, he didn't want to antagonize the sleepy creature. “Oh, it was just some medicine that I got from a couple of old friends. He did his best to deflect Thistle’s confused stare, unsure if it was due to his poorly constructed lie or his awkward positioning in the middle of her nest.

“What kind of friends would do that to your arm? It smells like you were burned.” The shade’s head floated up to his shoulder, causing Reed to wince as her wet nose made contact with the blistered flesh. After a brief internal struggle, she dragged her pink tongue across the burn, her eyes closed in concentration as she thoroughly washed the wound over many delicate tongue-strokes.

Though Reed initially flinched back at the unexpected contact, his tensed muscles relaxed almost immediately as waves of relief followed her initial caresses. “It’s complicated. I went to the Mage’s College, remember? They had some potion supplies over there - I went in and borrowed them.” He rolled his shoulder carefully, allowing the moist tongue to continue its thorough massage. “I guess somebody over there wasn’t keen on sharing.”

Reed’s heart began to pound as the memories of the previous night began to flood back to him. He reached into his pocket and produced a nearly dead phone. He apprehensively searched the news for any articles related to the Mages’ College or any recent murders. He was mildly surprised to find none. “I… I think I killed someone.”

Thistle’s gentle first-aid continued for a few more seconds before she finally drew back. A sparkling string of saliva briefly linked her maw to his shoulder before her tongue severed the bridge. She resumed her efforts to clear the medicine’s taste from her mouth.
“It sounds as though someone tried to kill you, and you defended yourself.” Thistle’s ears flicked dismissively. “I can still smell the magic on you, someone poured far too much into this attack. It looks like it just splashed everywhere instead of going into your body.” Her tail swished dramatically to illustrate her point. “Besides, you did it for me.”

“You risked your life for me, Reed.” Two huge eyes bored into Reed’s soul as the head floated up to his eye level. Thistle’s nose drew so close that her slow breaths rolled across the man’s face. She held the stare for a few seconds and, without warning, planted a lick firmly on Reed’s exposed nose. “And for that, I am grateful.”

“Uh… it was nothing,” Reed stammered, “Really. I’d do it for anyone who needed help. It’s not like I’d be able to take you to the vet’s office anyway.” The joking tone he was hoping to achieve never materialized, leaving him staring right back at Thistle. The awkwardness was compounded as he wiped her saliva from his nose with the back of his arm. “Excuse me, I’m gonna… gonna go make us some food.” He turned rigidly on his heel and stepped out of the room.

As he sweated in front of his sizzling breakfast-to-be, Reed’s mind shifted into overdrive. His would-be murderer had yet to appear on the news, so maybe he had managed to get away with last night’s misadventure. Thistle was right, after all – this man had tried to kill him and he’d only acted in self-defense. His former classmate’s stone still sat heavily in his pocket, its weight enticing him to handle it. He absentmindedly fondled the gem as his mind flooded with thoughts about Thistle.

Although Reed was surely no expert on shade social customs, it seemed obvious to him that licking his face was not a normal expression of thanks. The way she’d curled around him as he slept was highly questionable as well, and her willing service as a makeshift pillow was something that Reed doubted would be afforded to even close friends.

As He worked, Reed did his best to push the stubborn thoughts about Thistle’s intentions out of his mind. Alarmingly, they were rapidly substituted by even less appropriate mental images of Thistle – her lithe tail, the graceful contours of her thin back, and the sweet smell of her breath. Reed shook the thoughts out of his head with a violence that honestly surprised him. She was probably still delirious from her fever – that would make so much more sense than the spiraling rabbit hole of implications that he’d concocted. Hell, he was probably still delirious too. Reed swallowed hard, set the bauble on his kitchen counter, and returned to Thistle’s den.

Later in the day, Reed strolled into the kitchen to find Thistle standing expectantly around the corner. At her feet sat the recently recovered gem, now slightly damp. “Where did you get this?” The shade’s tail flitted off the ground nervously, and though her eyes remained fixed calmly on the human in the doorway, an occasional flicker of fear ran across them as she glanced at the apparently inert artifice.

“I found it on that guy, from the College. He had it set into a spear…” Reed’s eyes widened as the implications of the nighttime ambush finally hit him. “This is a binding artifice, right? The kind that – well – you know,” he swallowed, “The kind that got you.”

“Yes, it is. This one looks like it is much stronger, though.”  She sprung forward and her wide eyes filled with fear as Reed leaned down to pick it from the floor. “Wait! Don’t touch it. Please – let me.” With extreme caution, Thistle plucked it up in her teeth and sprinted off into her den.

“They weren’t looking for me,” reed murmured, “They were looking for you.” He eyed the retreating shade’s form with concern. Any guilt that he’d harbored over killing his former classmate evaporated as he reflected on the horrid fate that Thistle could have returned to if she were the one that had gone searching for magic in that horrid tower.

+++

The next day passed quickly. Reed’s vacation time had almost expired, and the early dawn marked the last Friday that he’d have free for what felt like far too long. No news about a murder or break-in down at the Mage’s College had surfaced yet, and every passing hour lent Reed a confidence that he didn’t know existed within him. Thistle seemed more confident too – her rapidly healing wound allowed her more freedom of movement, and she’d taken much more interest in the human's exotic day-to-day activities.

The afternoon had only barely begun when Reed took it upon himself to start poking through the proper history of the old Mage’s College. If they were willing to kill someone to recapture Thistle, it was surely only reasonable that he did his best to inform himself. The history he’d learned while studying was all very old – the college was one of the first to be founded in the new world and acted to ensure that only the strong and the loyal could handle The Magic in its pure form.

Reed’s eyelids rapidly grew heavy as he flipped through another chapter of ancient history – he was much more interested in what was happening while his grandfather was alive – what deals were made that led the college to hunt every single beast down? Surely they would have noticed that their powers faded with each kill, or that it grew harder to produce even simple artifices to clean the school halls or tend to the vulnerable herbs that had begun to wilt in the garden.

The man’s silent musings were rudely interrupted by the sound of haughty purring from the den across from where he sat. Thistle slunk out into the room, brushing the substantial length of her body against the doorway before strutting deliberately towards the sofa that housed the suddenly confused man. Wordlessly, she positioned herself next to Reed, pressed her nose under his hand, and lifted her head up, causing his arm to fall loosely between her ears and along her downy head-fur.

“You spend a lot of time with those things.” Thistle’s purring slowed as her eyes zeroed in on the book clutched in Reed’s hand. “What are you looking for?” Her head floated up over Reed’s shoulder, her intruding snout blocking the view of half a page of decade-old enrollment records.

“I’m not sure yet. I guess I want to see what changed between then and now” Reed’s right hand released the book to gesture along an invisible timeline, while his left began to ruffle the fur behind Thistle’s ears. His efforts were rewarded with an encouraging purr.
“You look bored. I do not think that you are having too much success, otherwise you would have stopped searching by now.” The shade’s large head broke free from the confines of Reed’s increasingly firm petting and nudged the cover closed. “I do not see the point in reading if books are all this boring.”

“Well, a lot of them can be,” Reed said hesitantly, “But sometimes we can learn a lot from boring books.” He quickly headed off a dismissive look from the creature that had begun to curl around the side of his seat. “Besides, many books have some really interesting stories in them.” Reed nodded his head towards the dusty old shelf in the corner. “Look over there. Those were all the old story books that my granddad used to read to me when I was little.”

Thistle rolled back to her feet again and silently trotted over to the shelf. As her hips swung side to side, her retreating tail drifted skywards, leaving an embarrassed Reed to sheepishly avert his eyes as the appendage brushed itself surprisingly gently against the side of his face. As he stared intently at the stovetop across the impetuous tail ran along his nose, leaving a strangely sweet scent hanging heavily in his nostrils.

After a series of involuntary sneezes, Reed’s eyes opened to find the shade sitting at his feet, her mouth respectfully gripping a thin, cloth-bound book. She dropped it gently next to Reed before resting the substantial weight of her head in between his legs just long enough to exhale a long, hot breath directly into his lap. Reed shifted uncomfortably as he stared into the huge yellow eyes before him.

Thistle finally broke the stare when she nudged the book open on the couch with a surprisingly precise jab of her nose. Her gaze slowly dripped down the text of the yellowed front page. “What’s this one about?”

“Well, that’s a children’s book, ‘The Chimney Dragon.’ It’s been a long time… but I think that this one is about a young human and a dragon that become friends.” Reed eyed the shade curiously. “Wait… you can’t read, can you?” He stifled a mirthful laugh. “How can you talk about books being boring if you don’t even know how to use them?”

Thistle’s purring subsided. “I never had the chance to learn,” she huffed, “Besides, can you pounce on a deer from fifty feet away?” Thistle licked her chops predatorially, her gaze locking back onto the human that was shrinking into the couch in front of her. “Please read this one for me, Reed. How does it start? Were they afraid of each other?”

“Well, yeah. They’re terrified of each other when they first meet.” Reed began to page quickly through the sparsely populated pages of the book. “But they eventually get used to the idea that neither one wants to hurt the other, and eventually they figure out that they actually care about each other…” He paused to stare right at Thistle’s expectant face. “When the human gets hurt, the dragon realized that he couldn’t bear life without his friend, and so he goes out to get help. He risks his life to get medicine from the town below.”
Thistle’s face was inches away now, her fur seemingly standing on edge as she purred loud and deep, her huge dark pupils pointed like voids that pulled the whole world into them. “What happened then?”

“And then,” Reed whispered breathlessly, “They lived happily ever after.” With that, the shade’s muzzle moved forward, catching the human’s mouth in a deep kiss.

Reed’s hands dropped the book, instead reaching around Thistle’s substantial neck. He clung to her fur as she pushed forward, sending him backwards into the couch. The two battled fiercely for control of the kiss, rolling sideways. Reed landed roughly backwards against the couch, and the pair ended up spilling off the couch and onto the hard floor.

With a groan, Thistle broke the kiss by pulling her head back. She was panting almost as desperately as Reed, who was awkwardly splayed on top of her, gasping for air. A long black tail brushed against the man’s back, trying desperately to hold him close against its owner’s soft belly fur. They stayed like that for a moment, locked in a deep embrace. Thistle wrapped her stocky front legs around Reed’s back, while he threw his arms around the base of her neck. The sweet scent of her clean fur filled the air, where it combined seamlessly with the telltale musk of arousal.

Thistle abruptly rolled over to the side, causing the unsuspecting human to roughly tumble out on to the floor. Reed’s hands reflexively grabbed at her fur in a vain attempt to steady himself, eliciting a yelp of surprised pain from the shade. She started upward, leading Reed to swing under her now rapidly ascending neck for a second before he fell unceremoniously on his back.

“Sorry,” Reed panted, “I… I didn’t think you were going to jump up like that.” The tightness in his pants was rapidly fading as he scratched the back of his neck with a trembling hand. “You have to warn a guy, you know?” a few strands of long black fur still clung between his fingers, soundly resisting his attempts to free them.

Thistle righted herself properly and curled her tail tightly around her now-sitting form. Her eyes were averted as a hind leg extended to tenderly scratch her assaulted mane. “Sorry. I thought… I wanted to make sure that this is what you wanted first. I wanted to make sure that we did things right.” The tip of her tongue anxiously wet her nose in a display of submission. “This is too weird, right?”

“Oh gosh,” the human breathed, “Of course this is what I want. Is this… this whole situation strange? Of course it is.” He got to his feet and reached over to caress the huge black head that was turned slightly away from him. “Most good things that happen in life are strange – they need to be strange so that we notice them at all. You showing up at my doorstep was one of the weirdest things that’s ever happened to me.” The words evidently stung the creature, causing her tail to coil even tighter around her body as a faltering whine escaped her throat.

“But,” Reed continued, “It was one of the best things that ever happened to me, too.” His open fingers found a niche behind Thistle’s nearly flat ears and began to scrub back and forth vigorously. “I care a lot about you, girl - If this is really what you want, then it’s what we’ll do. Because I lov-“

The shade’s stormy demeanor instantly melted and she spun around to catch Reed on the face with a well-planted lick. The gesture quickly morphed into another passionate kiss, with both parties standing somewhat apart this time. Reed’s hand ruffled the creatures’ head fur, leading her to coo softly and push the flat of her head against his palm.

Nearly a minute later, Thistle drew her head back once more. A string of saliva followed her half-open maw backwards, glittering in the light before finally breaking a second later. “Follow me.” She slowly rolled forward onto her feet, and her lithe tail curling around Reed’s waist possessively.  Hesitantly at first, she led him across the main room into her den. Inside, she split from his side to roll backwards onto the top of her nest. Her hind legs gracefully splayed open for him, revealing a sparkling wet slit set squarely between her stocky thighs. Though she tried to wear a façade of confidence, her sparkling eyes and frantically swishing tail belied her anticipation.

Reed took a moment to survey her. The shade squirmed sheepishly as the man’s piercing blue eyes cascaded down her long neck, over the front paws that sat crossed on her upturned chest, and along each of the three sets of perky nipples that adorned her softly heaving belly. “What are you waiting for,” she huffed nervously, “It’s your turn.”

Reed began to hastily disrobe in front of the expectant beast. Every article of clothing that he peeled from his wiry frame only served to excite Thistle more. By the time he stood naked before her, she was panting heavily, her hips rolling back and forth in a barely perceptible thrusting motion.

“Do you want to be on your back, then?” Reed’s question was answered with a series of rapid, hungry nods. He breathlessly crept towards her, his stiff member gripped firmly in one hand as he stroked a palm across its length. Finally, he stood barely apart from her back legs.

He dropped into a kneeling stance and pushed his hips forward, straddling the base of her thick and fluffy tail. Reed carefully pressed his own belly against the shade’s legs so that his penis sat flat on her lower stomach, a few inches forward of her dripping sex. He leaned forward into her, pushing her rear legs forward along with him and relishing the sensation of the silky fur between her thighs rubbing against his shaft. A few sparkling drops of pre leaked from his head and wet her belly-fur.

“Are you ready? It’s no hard feelings if you want to go back.” Reed’s final question was nearly drowned out by the shade’s needy whines and whimpers. Indeed, Thistle’s whole body had begun to quiver, and her teeth were nearly chattering in apprehension.

“I’m ready,” Came her rapid reply, “I have been ready all week.” Her rapid breathing had turned into a steady, anticipatory pant, and the bulk of her tail was braced against the naked man’s back, ready to press him into her at a moments’ notice. A steady trail of moisture had begun to cascade down her sex, leaking down to wet her other entrance at the base of her tail before pooling in a series of large drips on the fabric beneath her.

Without further ceremony, Reed firmly placed his hands around the bases of the shade’s legs. He pulled his hips back and lined his head up against Thistle’s entrance. She gasped involuntarily as his shaft made its first contact with her expectant lips.

 “What’s wrong?” Reed had frozen right against Thistle’s soaked slit. His head had only barely begun to part the glittering folds of her sex, and his eyes fixed on the shivering creature with concern. “We can still stop if you want to.”

Thistle’s paws had shifted away from her chest and were now covering her eyes as best as they could manage. Her panting had sped up, and her huge eyes were screwed tightly shut. “No, do not stop. It is just that I have never done… this… before.” Her hyperventilation was interrupted by an exasperated sigh. “Tell me, will it hurt?”

“Look at me,” Reed purred, “I want you to know that I will never hurt you. If we go too fast, just say something.” Reed gently extended a hand to pull her nose towards his head, and gazed deep into her sparkling eyes. “I’m gonna start now, okay?” The slightest of scared nods followed from the beast.

Reed pulled back on her leg with his free hand, and slowly buried himself in Thistle’s quivering sex. As he did so, the shade gasped sharply. Reed quickly silenced her by pulling her head in close and passionately kissing her. His head turned sideways to accompany the opening of her maw as he hilted himself for the first time.

“Stop… Just… just stay like that for a moment.” The faltering voice was accompanied by Thistle weakly breaking the kiss and staring deeply at the man on top of her. Her upper body curled slightly as she shifted her weight around, and her muscular walls clamped down experimentally on the foreign intruder within her. Reed shuddered with pleasure as she yipped and yelped softly, her muscle contractions massaging the full length of his shaft.

After lying still for a minute, Thistle nodded once again. Reed slowly pulled back, eliciting another wave of gasping enunciations from the creature below him. He snuck a glance between the shaking legs, relishing the sight of his shaft buried firmly within the black mass of hot, embarrassed fur beneath him. A few beads of fluid had escaped their union and were dribbling down towards the base of the shade’s tail in small rivulets.

The man thrust into her again, flexing his hips on the downstroke to push even deeper into his lover than before. Despite her size, she was amazingly tight, and Reed had to work carefully to get his angle right. The sudden thrust elicited an ecstatic yowl from Thistle, who caught his neck with a slew of short and needy licks. More folds parted deep within her, guiding the human’s shaft up to the entrance to her womb.

Reed’s thrusting motions steadily intensified. Before long he was pounding rapidly into Thistle’s battered folds, heady spurts of fluids escaping onto her already soaked belly with every other thrust. Thistle’s gasping had grown breathier and more desperate – she was getting close.

Without warning, the shade’s body lifted and began to coil its way around Reed. She wrapped fully around him once, with her neck craning to barely bring her head back around to his face. Her tail repeated the maneuver, and pulled him close into a deep embrace.
She squeezed Reed tightly, locking his hips firmly against her own, her fluffy coils constricting him so that he could barely breathe. She was in control now, and her rhythmic constrictions forced Reed in and out of her slightly, pushing them both closer and closer towards the edge of a powerful shared climax.

Reed’s own thrusting motions grew shorter and shorter as Thistle cooed softly into his ear. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he wildly threw himself against the shade’s slit, pressing himself against tightly against her while he furiously dumped wave after wave of his thick seed into her.

Thistle’s climax followed almost immediately. She squeezed the man so tightly that he saw stars as she keened loudly at the sky. Her folds began to quiver, and her hips rolled back and forth under Reed, the extra stimulation only serving to milk his shaft harder. Reed pressed down hard on Thistle’s belly with the flat of his palm, letting out a yell as he felt his shaft slip past his hand and dump one final load of semen into her. A few drops of thick white cum spurted from her spent sex, joining the pool of other fluids that lay below her.

They both rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms for what felt like hours, alternately kissing, screaming, or simply gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Finally, they lay still, still locked together and breathing heavily as they gasped for air.
Finally, the pair unwound and fell breathlessly sideways onto the ruined sheets below them. Reed limply extended a hand to pet the side of Thistle’s exhausted face. “How was that,” he murmured, “Was that okay?

Thistle’s eyes drifted closed slowly as a smile crept across the corners of her mouth. “Yes, Reed,” she whispered, “That was okay. That was perfect.” Sleep found them a few minutes later as they curled up together in the golden afternoon sun.

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The sudden buzz of a ringing phone buffeted the inert pile of fur, cloth, and pink skin that rumbled deeply in the center of the room. A hand shot out of the pile and began slapping uselessly at the collection of clothes that its owner had so callously discarded a few hours earlier.

Blinking heavily, Reed dragged the device up to his sleep-plagued face the very instant that the call bounced. He moved stoically through the motions required to unlock the device, and after only the third attempt, managed to fumble his PIN into the emotionless touchscreen correctly.

During this valiant struggle, the shade that was curled up with him began to stir as well. Thistle was planted at the base of the pile, her upturned belly acting as an impromptu pillow for the human who presently lay with her. Her rumbling purr shook the entire room, and jostled Reed’s head and upper body where they lay pressed into the lower half of her soft stomach.

“Why would you be up already? Turn that horrible thing off and come back to bed with me.” Two huge eyes blinked slowly at the distracted man as Thistle’s lithe body curled over to allow her to sniff the small black brick clutched firmly between his hands.  She delivered it a sound poke with her nose and sent it tumbling onto Reed’s stomach. She quelled the subsequent look of irritation with a quick lick to the human’s mouth.

“That could’ve been important,” Reed mumbled, “What if… well… I guess if it really mattered someone would’ve knocked by now.” He responded to the unexpected lick by sticking his head out and softly poking the end of the shade’s long, wet nose with his own. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy, you know that?”

Thistle’s head started back slightly at the sudden contact. Her wide black pupils crossed briefly, trying their best to focus on the human at the end of her snout. She delivered another lick, much more confident than the last. Her tongue caught under Reed’s top lip, causing him to reciprocate by tilting his head. He pulled thistle’s snout down in order to bring her into a long, experimental kiss.
The pair took their time to explore, staring intently at each other as they watched for expressions of pleasure or discomfort. They slowly began to build a natural rhythm, and by the time they broke apart again, Thistle was heaving softly, and Reed felt uncomfortably stiff under the thick wrappings of blankets that surrounded him.

“You know, you’ve never told me,” Reed said mischievously, “What’s your opinion on belly rubs?” He raised a single finger and pressed it lightly against the shade’s sternum. He began tracing small circles on the center of her chest.

“’Belly rubs’? I cant say I… Oh.” Thistle’s confused expression suddenly melted away as the rest of the man’s slowly circling hand contacted her chest. His palm lay flat against her ribcage as he continued the motion, slowly lowering his hand with each subsequent lap around her chest.

Thistle’s purr had gotten fainter and more distracted as she watched the human work. Though she had started out with her usual almost-predatory focus, she began having trouble focusing when the hand had travelled about halfway down her body. His hand slowly crept lower and lower, with the circles growing more and more compact.

“There’s nothing wrong with your back, but this side is a lot more fun to play with.” Reed smirked as he ran his finger along one of her topmost nipples. He rubbed it in slow, rhythmic circles, gently at first, but rapidly growing rougher in response to Thistle’s agitated whining. After her breathing had grown shallow and hot, Reed released her and continued moving his hand down.

Thistle rolled backwards fully, causing Reed to follow her down again. He landed on his side next to the creature’s sizable frame. He shuffled his lower body around awkwardly until everything from his bellybutton down was firmly pressed against the beast’s side.

Reed’s hand had almost arrived at its final destination. He pressed his palm down hard into the shade’s soft belly, listening with satisfaction to the breath of air that roughly escaped her throat. He began to widen his circular strokes, varying their pressure from a gentle caress to heavy enough to force air from the shade’s breathless mouth.

Thistle was well and truly aroused now. Her hips had splayed wide open for the human lying next to her, the short fur between them matted and glistening with arousal. Reed’s hand finally crossed the threshold, and his movements grew much more deliberate as he felt half-blindly around the slick space between her quivering hind legs.

Thistle moaned loudly, informing the man that he’d found his mark. His hand rested gently on top of her slit, tracing the same shallow circles that he’d started out with on her chest. After a few seconds of teasing, Reed slipped the beginnings of his middle finger inside, eliciting a squeal of delight from the trembling beast at his side.

Other fingers on each side spread her slit out as she panted roughly. Reed’s finger worked in and out of her, slowly probing deeper as thistle began to subconsciously buck against the intruding hand. Reed worked his other arm under the shade’s side and began to stroke up and down the length of her belly, paying special care to the now-firm nipples that studded her belly.

Just as the shade was about to burst, Reed’s hands stopped their crusade. His fingers pulled straight out of her quivering flesh, bringing with them a sparkling trail of fluid that dribbled out on to her already soaked nethers.

“Why-why did you stop?” Thistle’s pleas came almost immediately as her eyes snapped back into focus. “Please, please don’t stop” Her legs shifted around uncomfortably, as if suddenly aware of the absence of a male between them.

“Well, I dunno,” reed teased, “This is nice and all, but what’s really in it for me?” He drew a finger along the length of her folds again, eliciting a moan and a full-body shiver from the begging female.

“What’s in it for you? How about the fact that I have not eaten you yet?” Thistle followed up the statement with a sharp snap of her teeth. Reed didn’t flinch.

“You and I both know that you wouldn’t eat me. ‘sides, I’m too gamey.” He returned his fingers to their resting place on Thistle’s sex. “I’ll keep going, if you promise to do something for me later.”

“What? What is it?” Thistle’s eyes widened in desperation.

With a grin, Reed reached up to the creatures ear and whispered something. Thistle’s ears flattened against her head and her tail went stock-stiff. After a moment’s consideration, she nodded emphatically.

The very second Reed received confirmation, he plunged three fingers back into Thistle. She practically screamed at the sudden entrance, and quickly returned to rocking back and forth under the power of the man’s simulated thrusts.

Once more, Thistle was about to climax. Reed’s fingers slowed once more, causing the shade to yelp in frustration. Rather than stopping however, the slick fingers were joined by their remaining brethren as Reed balled his hand into a fist. He lifted himself up off the bed to get better leverage and pushed his hand down into Thistle as hard as he could. As the widest part of his fist passed into her, she yelped in pain. About 8 inches in, this apparent discomfort rapidly gave way to a near-continuous whine as she clamped down hard on the foreign intruder. Reed felt around inside of her, testing the soft folds on all sides of his hand.

Thistle’s contractions around his forearm were enough to send her over the edge. Her eyes rolled back in her head as rivulets of cum escaped from the seal around Reed’s arm. He rode her orgasm out with her, alternately burying his fist within her and slowly drawing it back, doing his best to match he pace.

After what felt like minutes, Thistle collapsed backwards, exhausted. Reed drew his hand out from her sex, eliciting a tired moan from her as her half-focused eyes stared at his soaked fingers. “Now, Thistle, it’s time for you to pay up.”

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NOTICE: This story is undergoing significant revision. Unfortunately, life's gotten pretty busy and editing is taking longer than I expected. As of this post on 6/20, I'm about 50% done. I hope to finish the bulk of the remainder over the weekend. Sorry for the delay.
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