BOUND BY RULES

  The next morning, the barn was quiet, except for the soft rustling of hay as Drak entered. He spotted Nalli right away, standing and stretching her large, muscular body near the back of the barn. Her fur rippled as she moved, and for a moment, Drak was struck, still unable to get over how graceful she moved despite her size. She glanced over at him, her yellow eyes attentive but calm.

  “Piujuk ullak—I mean, good morning,” she said, her voice strained with minor discomfort. “This wound of mine itches like little fire akKalajuks. I've been trying not to tear it open all night.”

  Drak chuckled, “That’s how you know it’s healing.” He stepped towards her and stopped a few feet away, leaning against a stall post. “Trust me, I’ve been there. I had stitches once when I was younger—fell off a friend's horse, if you can believe it. It itched for days, almost drove me insane.”

  Nalli raised an eyebrow, her gaze following him with mild curiosity. “You humans are so fragile, falling off things. You’re not built like us.”

  Drak smiled, rolling up his sleeve to show her the faded scar that ran along his arm. “Not as tough as a direhound, sure, but we bounce back pretty quick.” He glanced at the bandages on her side. “You’re healing up well. Just don’t give in to that itch, or you’ll regret it.”

  Nalli snorted, but she shifted slightly as if trying to resist the urge to scratch, her left ear constantly flicking in irritation. “Easier said than done,” she muttered. Despite her usual sharp-edged tone, there was something softer about her this morning, and an ease in the way she spoke.

  Drak felt it too. There was more accord between them, a strange sense of understanding after everything they had talked about the night before. They weren’t quite allies, but they weren’t enemies either.

  Nalli eventually sat down, her massive direhound body lowering to the barn floor with a controlled thud. She studied him for a moment, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “So, what is the plan for today, then? You said you'd help, and I’m still here, so I assume you have got something.”

  Drak shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m still thinking through it. I think the first thing I need to do is figure out a way to get us some proper direhound registration papers. I don’t want you to hide out here forever. It’s risky… for both of us.”

  Nalli tilted her head, her ears flicking slightly in curiosity. “Registration papers? What nonsense is that? Since when do you need papers to exist?”

  Drak sighed, realizing this wasn’t common knowledge outside human lands. “It’s not just existing,” he explained. “In human territory, every direhound has to be registered under a handler. They’re assigned a unique number, and the handler gets a registration permit that proves ownership. Without that paperwork, you’re considered… well, ‘wild.’ And wild direhounds inside human lands are either captured or worse—especially if the containment teams get involved.”

  Nalli raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Petty human nuances and rules,” she muttered, folding her arms across her chest. “Seems like a lot of effort for nothing.”

  Drak shrugged. “Maybe, but those ‘petty rules’ will keep people from asking questions. If I can register you somehow, you’d at least be able to walk around without everyone panicking.”

  Nalli huffed, her tail flicking in irritation. “If it gets me out of this dwelling sooner, do what you have to do. This barn isn't getting any more comfortable.”

  Drak nodded. He knew they couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hiding her in the barn was only a temporary solution. “I’ll figure something out,” he said, more to himself than to her. “It’s just going to take a little time.”

  Nalli’s gaze softened slightly, and she let out a low sigh. “Fine. I will wait. But don’t delay too long, human. I’m not used to staying in one place when I have a mission to complete.”

  “I know,” Drak replied, offering a small smile. “I’m working on it.”

  For a brief moment, there was silence between them, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was more like they were both coming to terms with the situation as two very different beings who had somehow ended up on the same path, for better or worse.

  Nalli’s watchful stare softened, and a moment later she let out a slow, thoughtful breath. “I’ve been thinking about it all night,” she began, her voice lower and more sincere than usual. Drak straightened slightly, sensing the change in her demeanor.

  She met his eyes with a steady, almost resigned look. “I don’t like this situation. Not one bit. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I need your help if I’m going to get out of human lands safely. I’ll admit that, even though it pains me.” Her expression tightened, and she hesitated, clearly wrestling with what she was about to say next. “I’ll go along with your plan. Reluctantly.”

  Drak blinked, taken aback by her sudden admission. He had expected more resistance from her, but here she was, agreeing, albeit grudgingly. “You mean… the saddle?”

  Nalli grimaced as if just the word itself tasted bad. “Yes, the stupid human saddle. IkKumanngituk! The fate of my people depends on me, and if wearing that ridiculous thing and letting you ride me is the price I have to pay to help them, then so be it.”

  She paused, her golden eyes honed like a sharpened blade as she leveled a finger, clawed and deadly, at Drak. “But hear me, human. This is taking a lot for me to agree to. More than you can probably understand. I expect respect. The moment you try to order me around, or think you can treat me like one of your docile beasts of burden, I’ll rip you from that saddle and stomp you into the dirt. Clear?”

  Drak swallowed hard, instinctively taking a small step back, but he nodded. “Clear. I swear, Nalli, this isn’t about control or treating you like an animal. I respect you. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”

  She studied him for a moment as she mentally weighed the truth of his words. After a tense silence, she let out a grunt, satisfied for now. “Good,” she said, her voice quieter. “Because the only reason I’m agreeing to this is because I don’t see another way. My people are depending on me, and I can’t afford to fail them.”

  Drak nodded again, his throat tight as he took in the full responsibility of what she was saying. He knew this wasn’t easy for her, and in a way, he admired her for it. “I’ll do everything I can to help you get out of here safely. I promise.”

  Nalli huffed, a little of her usual defiance creeping back into her posture. “You’d better. If this goes wrong, I’ll make sure you're the first one to know.”

  Drak couldn’t help but smirk a little. He wouldn’t admit it to her, but was starting to like all her threats. “Understood.”

  Nalli collected herself, pulling herself up to a standing position. She made herself taller and puffed out her chest, as if to reclaim a sense of pride after their discussion. Her ears twitched as she gazed down at Drak, her posture still commanding despite the vulnerability she had just shown. With a low hum, she paced the barn once before walking back over to him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she posed her next question.

  “So, you’ve got me agreeing to this—kuviasotikak—strategy of yours,” she started, her voice sharp but more curious now than hostile. “But how exactly do you plan on getting these so-called papers of registration? Don’t tell me you believe they’ll just hand them to you?”

  Drak scratched the growing stubble beneath his chin, looking thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he admitted. “I’m going to visit the Tribute library.”

  Nalli blinked while flicking her ears in disbelief. “A library?” she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

  Drak couldn't help but grin, amused by her reaction. “It's a place filled with human knowledge. Laws, records, old texts… they're all there.”

  Nalli rolled her eyes and huffed. “I know what a library is, human. We have them in the Nightmoon Veil as well.”

  Drak gave her a soft shrug. “I wasn’t saying you didn’t… But in all fairness, I'm still trying to understand the limit of your knowledge of humanity. I figure I can read up on the direhound laws.”

  Nalli huffed, her tail flicking behind her impatiently. “And you really think that’ll help us? You think reading old scrolls will get us what we need?”

  “There might be something useful there,” Drak continues. “Humans love their words and laws. And if there’s any way for me to get you registered, it’s probably buried in there, maybe.”

  She eyed him skeptically but didn’t dismiss the idea outright. “You really think you can pull this off?”

  Drak looked up at her, his expression fierce with determination. “I have to try, don’t I? It’s the only way to keep you safe. If I can find something that’ll work, we might actually have a chance.”

  Nalli studied his face for a long moment before relaxing her shoulders and letting out a long sigh. “Alright, Drak. If this library of yours doesn’t have what you need, you’d better have an alternative scheme. I’m not sticking around in human territory any longer than I have to. Once I'm fully healed, I'm gone.”

  “Fair enough,” Drak agreed. “I’ll head to the library first thing, and we’ll go from there.” He moved over to his steam-bike and slid it back from its spot.

  Nalli nodded, but the wariness in her eyes remained. In the face of her tough exterior, Drak could see the trust she was putting in him.

  Drak halted mid-step, his hand resting on the smooth copper handlebars of his steam-bike. His gaze lingered on the polished metal, their curved surface distorting his reflection like a warped mirror. The circular fittings stirred an uneasy memory: the direhound control collars. How could he have overlooked that? Their requirement in human lands was a law as unyielding as the metal they were made of. A knot tightened in his chest. He’d been so focused on moving forward with their plan that he hadn’t stopped to think about everything that would need to be put in place first. He knew what he had to tell her.

  But how is she going to take it? He wondered.

  Rolling the bike toward the barn door, the truth hung on him. The paperwork and the saddle were an obstacle already; but the collar was non-negotiable if they wanted to move freely in the open. Nalli had agreed to go along with him so far, but this… This felt like a sudden and unavoidable betrayal waiting to happen.

  He turned toward her, inhaling deeply, guiding his steam-bike with him as he approached. Nalli stood where he’d left her, watching him with a piercing regard that made it clear she was not one to miss the subtle shifts in his behavior. She looked stronger now, more in control, but the intensity in her eyes told him just how unpredictable she could be.

  “Nalli,” he began, his voice steady but edged with caution. He tread carefully, dreading the torrent that might follow. “We need to talk. There’s something important I forgot about… that you need to know.”

  Her ears flicked toward him, her expression becoming stone. “What now, Drak?” she asked, crossing her arms as her tail swished impatiently.

  Drak hesitated, his fingers brushing over the handlebars of his steam-bike in some vain attempt to search for reassurance. He took a breath, trying to steady himself before speaking. “In human territory, there are two major things that direhounds are required to have,” he began, his voice cautious. “They must be registered… and they’re required to wear a control collar at all times.” The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, and he forced himself to meet Nalli’s penetrating eyes. “It’s the law.”

  The shift in Nalli’s demeanor was instantaneous. Her fur bristled enough to raise the hackles on the back of her neck and back, a low growl rumbled in her chest as she took a step closer. “A collar? A human chain!” she snapped, her voice cutting like a blade. Her claws flexed at her sides, glinting in the dim light. “You think I’m going to wear one of those degrading things? Like some docile pet tied to a human leash?”

  Drak raised his hands defensively, his posture tense. “I’m not saying it’s right. But without it—”

  “Auka,” she interrupted, her tone sharp and unyielding. “You’re not just saying it’s not right, Drak. You’re telling me this is required now? First, it’s papers, then a saddle, and now a collar?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, the nostrils of her plumb nose flaring. “What’s next? A leash? Or do you expect me to roll over and sit on command? How do I know this isn’t some sick ruse. I should have known better than to trust a human.”

  “Come on, Nalli, it’s not like that,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration that was quickly growing woeful as he spoke. “The collar isn’t my rule. It’s human law, and you’re in human land now. If you don’t wear one, people will know you’re unregistered with a single glance! You’ll be hunted, Nalli. You know what happens to unregistered direhounds.”

  She took another step forward, her height towering over him now. “Oh, I know what happens,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Your precious laws chain my kind into servitude, and your handlers make sure we stay broken. Don’t pretend this is about my safety, Drak. This is about you wanting to keep your hands clean.”

  “That’s not fair,” he desperately shot back, his emotions starting to boil over as a lump tightened in his throat. “I’m trying to protect you the only way I know how. I don’t like this any more than you do, but if I'm going to get you through human territory without raising alarms, the collar is non-negotiable. It’s not about controlling you. It’s about keeping you alive!”

  Nalli stared at him for a long moment, her jaw tight and her chest heaving with restrained fury. Finally, she let out a derisive snort and looked away, her tail lashing behind her. “Trivial human rules,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Chains made to soothe your fears.”

  Drak could feel his eyes well up, and his throat tightened further as he tried to speak again, but the words caught, and a tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He quickly wiped it away, swallowing the lump that refused to budge. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “That’s all…” His hands gripped the handlebars of the bike to steady himself, but his shoulders slumped under his emotions.

  Nalli’s ears flicked at his trembling tone, her gaze wavering as she noticed the wet streak on his face. It startled her in a way she couldn’t name. This human, this guileless land-tending boy, was crying for her. She didn’t know what to make of it. In her culture, tears were a rare and sacred thing, a sign of mourning reserved only for the dead. Was he mourning her? Did he think she was already lost?

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Her fur bristled again, but not with the same anger as before. Instead, a strange emotion swelled in her chest in a way that brought her confusion and discomfort. She hated the way this human's sentiments bled into her senses, like the warmth of a fire she couldn't resist. His pain was unmistakable, and no matter how much she wanted to resist it, it kept clinging to her like a shadow. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice edged to the point of sharpness, but quieter now. “Why would you care this much about someone you owe nothing to? Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  Drak’s head lifted, and his red-rimmed eyes met hers with an intensity that made her pause. “Because I do care,” he said, his voice breaking again but no less firm. “You’re not just someone to me, Nalli. It’s hard to explain… you’re more than that. I don’t care what it takes; I’m not going to let you face this alone. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

  Nalli’s claws flexed at her sides, and for a moment, she didn’t know whether to lash out or turn away. He was frustrating, stubborn, and naive. Yet there was something about him, something raw and unpolished, that made it hard to dismiss him outright. He wasn’t doing this out of pity or obligation. She could feel the candor in his words, the way it betrayed his resolve, and it unsettled her.

  “You’re a fool,” she said finally, her voice low but hidden with an edge of something else. Not anger, not quite, but something more conflicted. “You have no idea what you’re bearing your fangs for. You don’t understand what it means to carry the burden of survival, to fight for your people every day.”

  Her words were harsh, and she couldn’t fully meet his eyes. As she stood, she felt her anger cooling, replaced by reluctant appreciation that was also somehow filled with resentment. She knew Drak was trying. He may not understand her struggle, but she could see he was making efforts in his own clumsy way.

  After a moment, she exhaled sharply and turned away. “You’re going to regret this,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “But… I’ll let you try. Just don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

  “I know you won't,” Drak said softly. “And I know it’s wrong, but it’s the only way to keep you out of harm’s way. If there were another option, I’d take it in a heartbeat. The collar… it would just be for appearances, only.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?” she growled, though her voice had softened, just barely. “To wear a collar... It's degrading. Every second I have it on… I'll be reminded by what your people have done to mine.”

  Drak met her gaze, feeling her words sink in. “You’re right,” he admitted, the inflection in his voice sincere. “And I’m sorry. I promise you, this is only temporary. Just until we get you on the other side of human territory. I’ll make sure you don’t have to wear it a moment longer than necessary.”

  Nalli stared at him for what felt like an eternity, her expression unreadable. Finally, she exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “Fine,” she muttered. “You’d better be right about this, because if you’re wrong...”

  Drak nodded solemnly, finishing her thought. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure this works.” He took a steadying breath, brushing his hand over his face to wipe away the remaining tears. “I’ll be back later,” he said, his voice firmer now, though a trace of emotion still clung to it.

  Without waiting for her reply, Drak quietly gripped the handles of his steam-bike and pushed it outside the barn. He couldn't help but glance back at Nalli. She had sunk to the floor, leaning against the wooden wall with a slump that made her look much smaller than she was. Her arms rested on her knees, her gaze lost somewhere far away, deep in conflicted thought. It tugged at something inside him to see her so worn and so resigned like that.

  Drak felt his heart beset with emotion and guilt. She had already been through so much, even before he found her, and now, because of him, she was being asked to endure even more. She didn’t deserve this, and he could understand her detest. He knew that. Though, what choice did they have? He didn't want it to be like this, to put her in a position where her pride was at war with her survival. Yet, what had he expected when he decided to help her? Nalli was a proud direhound, a warrior on a mission for her people. And now, she was depending on him, a human. She wasn’t just some wounded stray he could patch up and send on her way. Or could he?

  The matter pressed down on him, making his chest tighten. This whole ordeal had become so much bigger than him, and the stakes were far higher than he could have imagined. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it. What was important now was Nalli. She had agreed to his plan, despite how it hurt her. Despite what it cost her pride. She was trusting him, if only begrudgingly, to see this through.

  Nalli didn’t look up as he started up his steam-bike, and that silence between them hurt more than he’d expected. She seemed resigned to the path ahead, but not in the way he had hoped. There was no sense of partnership in her body language, only a quiet acceptance of the reality that had been forced on her. She had given in, but at what cost?

  Drak swallowed hard, his commitment settling deeper within him. He had to make this work. Not just for himself, but for her. He would find the information, get the registration papers, and find a way to make this plan go smoothly. He owed her that much. More than that, even. He would make it up to her.

  This plan has to work, he thought. I won’t let her down. Not after everything she has sacrificed already.

  With one last look at the barn, Drak turned and headed towards the city, determination burning in his chest.

  ***

  The sound of the steam-bike’s engine filled the air as Drak stood before the decorative iron gates of Tribute. His mind buzzed as he pieced together his next moves. If he was going to help Nalli, he absolutely had to figure out how to get her registered, and the Tribute Memorial Library seemed like the best place to start. Somewhere within its shelves had to be something to get them through this mess.

  The gates began to slide open, and Drak revved the bike’s engine, ready to merge into the gathered throng of people heading into the city, but just as he started to engage the throttle, a sharp tug at his collar jerked him back, causing the bike to sputter and stall.

  “You're not going anywhere, boy!” a gruff voice growled behind him.

  He turned, heart pounding, and was met with the stern gaze of one of Tribute's gate guards, his bright blue uniform catching the early light. The man’s crisp, pointed beard whipped in the breeze, and his grip on Drak’s coat didn’t loosen. Drak’s heart sank. For a moment, panic flashed through his mind. Had all his effort hiding Nalli been for nothing? Did they already know about her?

  “You pull a stunt like you did yesterday when the gates were closing and I'll toss you in the stock pens for the night. Do we have an understanding?” the guard snapped with brisk authority.

  Drak’s mind scrambled, and then the memory hit him. He’d barely squeezed through the gates yesterday while he was rushing to get back to Nalli. He swallowed the lump in his throat, relief washing over him. They didn’t know about her. This was just about his reckless driving.

  “Y-Yeah, I understand,” Drak replied, nodding vigorously. His voice barely cracked as he mustered a polite apology. “Won't happen again, sir.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes for a second longer, but then finally released Drak’s coat with a grunt, waving him forward. Drak breathed a sigh of relief and revved up his steam-bike again, easing through the gate with far more caution this time.

  As he passed under the iron archway, joining the bustling crowd of workers, merchants, and travelers, Drak’s mind returned to the task at hand. The incident with the guard rattled his nerves. He thought, for the briefest moment, everything was falling apart. However, the encounter taught him a lesson, and he steeled his resolve. He had to be smart, quick, and above all, careful. This had to work. For both him and Nalli.

  Drak navigated through the winding streets of Tribute, weaving between pedestrians and carts as the steam from his bike puffed in rhythmic bursts. The city had a predictable flow this time of morning, and the route to the library was simple. Yet, with everything weighing on his mind, the old path seemed surreal today.

  As he neared the courtyard of the grand Tribute Memorial Library, the city's buzz began to fade into the background. Drak couldn’t help but slow down as he approached the imposing structure, memories of his last visit flashing through his mind. It had been years since he'd last stepped foot here, back when his days were carefree and his biggest concern was finding some interesting stories to read.

  He parked his steam-bike near the library’s front steps, admiring the building’s timeless, rounded design. Its curved, stone fa?ade was adorned with intricate carvings, each commemorating humanity’s great figures of old, and at the heart of the courtyard stood a towering monolithic obelisk, its cold, smooth surface engraved with the names of fallen heroes of the past. The cobblestone steps ahead of its impending presence led up to the library’s grand terrace, and beyond, the massive doors to the library loomed, sealing behind it the wealth of information that lay within.

  Taking a deep breath, Drak dismounted and ascended the stairs where the faint tap of his boots against the smooth stone echoed in the courtyard. He pushed the door open and entered quietly.

  Inside, the library was even more magnificent than he remembered. Towering bookshelves lined its circular walls, forming a maze of knowledge that stretched far beyond what the eye could see. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old ink, but Drak’s attention was immediately drawn to the central masterpiece of the library. Above, a giant orrery hung suspended from the ceiling like a literal chandelier of stars beneath a mosaic of stained glass windows. Brass and copper arms reached out in all directions, holding delicately crafted spheres in motion, their slow orbit tracing the exact movements of ancient celestial bodies above the firmament of Ardraelion.

  Drak found himself momentarily entranced by the sight, watching as the planets moved silently in their paths. It was humbling, really, to stand beneath something so grand. It made him think of just how vast the world was outside the borders of human territory.

  I can’t afford to be distracted, he thought, shaking himself from his trance. Drak headed toward the central help desk. He had a mission, and there was no time to waste. Finding the right information on direhound laws was his top priority, and somewhere in this vast library was the key to Nalli’s survival.

  Drak made his way to a round marble counter that sat directly beneath the massive orrery. The brass planets turned lazily above him, casting soft reflections of light that flickered across the floor. Behind the circular desk, an elderly records keeper sat, meticulously cataloging a stack of scrolls with steady hands. He was a slight man with sharp, bird-like features, his curled gray hair and tight posture giving him an air of stern facility.

  “Excuse me,” Drak began, clearing his throat as he approached the desk.

  The records keeper looked up from his work, peering at him over a pair of small, wire-rimmed spectacles. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for the self-help section. Specifically, the texts regarding the direhound laws,” Drak explained, hoping his request didn’t raise any suspicion.

  The man studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was figuring out whether or not to acknowledge the request. Then, without a word, he stood and motioned for Drak to follow.

  He walked behind the records keeper as he led him through the labyrinthine aisles of towering bookshelves, each filled with countless volumes of knowledge. The further they went, the quieter it became, until they reached a dimly lit section at the far end of the library. It felt almost forgotten, as if only a few people had ventured this deep in recent years.

  “This is where you'll find what you're looking for,” the records keeper said, gesturing toward the shelves. “The statutes on direhound regulations are... thorough.”

  Drak looked up at the shelves and felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. The sheer number of texts was staggering. Books and scrolls, many of them thick and bound in worn leather, were stacked from floor to ceiling. There must have been dozens of volumes, each detailing the intricacies of direhound laws, regulations, and amendments over the past century.

  “Thank you,” Drak muttered, trying to not let his nerves show. In truth, his search wasn’t quite as simple as registering Nalli the old fashioned way. She needed to remain free. He had to find a solution that wouldn’t permanently subjugate her within the system.

  He needed a loophole.

  The records keeper gave him a curt nod and disappeared back into the maze of shelves, leaving Drak alone with the daunting task ahead of him. He sighed, rubbing the side of his neck as he stared at the rows of dusty books.

  This is going to take a while…

  With no time to waste, Drak began pulling out the first few volumes that seemed relevant, their leather-bound spines crackling softly under his fingers. Each tome was heavy and had faded, embossed lettering that hinted at years of use. He stacked them on the nearest table, dust rising in small, lazy clouds as he placed them down. The room seemed to grow quieter as he took a seat and opened the first book.

  He took a deep breath, and started to read.

  ***

  The dry rustle of pages greeted him again and again as he scanned endless lines of dense legal jargon. Initially, he found an interesting passage on the mandatory legal dynamics of human and direhound handler-servant pairs. But the eager in his hopeful searching was quick to sour. The words of each passage blurred together. Each tome was full of paragraphs of regulations, subclauses, and cross references that seemed to go in circles and that often contradicted themselves. Some sections were so convoluted he had to reread them several times just to piece together their meaning. As he did so, time slipped by unnoticed, the faint ticking of the massive orrery above the only entity that dictated the passage of time. The elaborate mechanism continuously cast shifting patterns of light and shadow across the table. It felt like the gears themselves were scorning his attempts to wrap his mind around the words in front of him.

  Drak’s hand became smudged with ink from the annotations he scribbled on some scratch parchment conveniently left at the table, his handwriting growing sloppier with every entry as he jotted down phrases:

  Handler registration protocols

  Collar compliance certificates

  Emergency transfer doctrines?

  Anything Drak found intriguing or noteworthy, he'd write it down in the hope he would commit it to memory later. The words painted a daunting picture of what he and Nalli were up against. The system wasn’t just complicated, it was built to keep direhounds firmly under control, with little room for exceptions.

  Drak leaned back, running a hand across his face and back through his messy hair, all the while glaring at the text in front of him as though sheer force of will could make the answers he sought magically appear. A pang of doubt crept in as he glanced down at the scattered pages and notes before him. What if this wasn’t enough? What if, even with all this preparation, they couldn’t slip through the cracks? For a moment, Drak let his mind wander as he imagined the barn way off in the distance. He thought of Nalli, her defiant spirit and the diminished look she’d tried to hide earlier. That was why he was doing this.

  If this is what it takes to keep Nalli safe, you have to push through, no matter how arduous the task seems.

  Drak kept reading, delving deeper into the texts, praying that somewhere among these volumes was the answer he needed.

  Except it wasn't working as Drak found himself fighting back the urge to yawn.

  He rubbed his eyes, the words of another statute blurring uselessly on the page. He leaned back in his chair, bones stiff from sitting for hours. With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up to his feet, stretching his arms high until his shoulders gave a satisfying pop.

  He wandered the aisle beside his table, trailing a hand along the rows of spines as though the answer might leap out at him. There were countless texts on direhounds alone: The Domesticated Qimmit: A Century of Service, On the Breeding and Conditioning of Ardraelion Direhounds, The Evolution of the Collar: A Handler’s Guide. Some looked clinical, others written like treatises on obedience, every title steeped in the human perspective of ownership.

  Drak’s brow furrowed as he passed them. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but none of these seemed right. Then his eyes caught on a larger volume wedged between thinner tomes, its spine stamped in fading gilt: History of the Mounted Expeditionaries.

  Curiosity stirred in him despite himself. He hesitated, then tugged the heavy book free. The cover creaked at the binding as he carried it back to the desk. This one felt different from the rest. Not law. Not rules. A story.

  The first chapter spoke of the Eastern Forest Incursions—the time when villages had been torn down by beasts so savage the army itself faltered. Drak read of General Ardan Volcrest, a war hero who had grown weary of endless conquest. The words were quoted in bold script: “If the Direhounds were once our fiercest enemies, and are now our bound companions, then let them stand beside us as equals where the frontiers test us. Not as tools of war, but as partners in survival.”

  Drak’s brow creased. He whispered the line aloud, as though tasting it. Partners in survival. It sounded almost… noble. A strange thing for a general of that time.

  The book moved on, recounting the Council’s approval and the forging of the Expeditionaries as something private and separate from the military. They weren’t conquerors, the text claimed, but guardians. Their duties stretched from mapping rivers to defending villages from monsters that lurked in the forests. Their motto, “Together we face the dark, so others need not,” was etched across the page in ornate lettering.

  As he read further, the descriptions grew almost mythic. Captains leading frontier forts, Blademasters instructing direhounds and humans alike, Scouts darting ahead into the unknown. To the writer, they were pioneers. Heroes where the military could not tread.

  Drak leaned an elbow on the desk, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

  Heroes. That was one way to put it.

  Still, as he skimmed the passages about direhounds being treated as “partners rather than possessions,” something moved in him. He'd bet the vineyard that Nalli would scoff at the phrasing, but compared to what he’d seen of most handlers in Tribute, it felt… different. Better.

  The words painted the Expeditionaries as both admired and distrusted. Common folk revered them, while the military sneered at them. Drak traced a finger along one passage that described “The Point of Khijaad,” the most dangerous of all their posts, where skirmishes against the Posek’s had spread like wildfire near the desert.

  He exhaled, closing the book partway and staring at the rotating orrery above. He had come here for loopholes. Paperwork. For answers to keep Nalli safe. Yet here he was, instead reading the story of an order that sounded more like what he had always dreamed of. Dangerous work, yes, but meaningful. Work that mattered.

  It’s time to refocus.

  Then as if the Mounted Expeditionary history had been all the distraction he needed, something caught Drak's attention on an open page from a previous book he’d already read through. A small asterisk next to the diagram of a direhound control collar. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just imagining things. Below the diagram, in tiny, almost unreadable print, was the note:

  *Broken or malfunctioning control collars may require a special registration permit.

  Drak sat up straighter, the fog of monotony quickly lifting. His pulse quickened as his mind raced with the possibility that he had just stumbled upon the insight he desperately needed. Could this be it?

  He quickly flipped to the index, searching frantically for any mention of special registration permits. His fingers ran over the pages until he found it, buried deep in the middle of the massive legal index. The text directed him to a section on provisional registration for direhounds with defective equipment.

  Drak quickly turned to the page, scanning it with growing anticipation, and sure enough, there it was. An entire subsection about obtaining temporary registration for a direhound with a broken or malfunctioning collar. The law allowed for a temporary permit while the new collar was ordered, but it required proof of purchase for the replacement.

  “Yes!” Drak whispered under his breath, feeling the weight of the hours of fruitless searching lift off his shoulders.

  He continued reading, absorbing the finer details of the law. The permit was valid for a limited time, just enough to get a new collar fitted, and it required a visit to the vital records department to verify the claim. More importantly, it would not require Nalli to be appraised in-person by a government evaluator. The wording was strict but not impossible to navigate.

  Drak’s mind whirled with ideas. He remembered the old antique shop in the market district with the outdated control collar on display in the window, something that could pass for broken if handled right. If he could get his hands on that collar, claim it was malfunctioning, and then apply for this temporary registration, he could buy enough time to get Nalli out of human territory before anyone noticed his ruse.

  He slammed the book shut, his spirit charged with renewed energy. Now he had a real plan. He would get Nalli that temporary permit, and with it, they'd have the cover they needed to keep her out of danger.

  Drak stood up from the table, slipping the heavy books back into place on the shelf, and made his way out of the library, his next goals clear.

  Vine & Fang? Feel free to rate the story and follow the author for future updates!

  A

  AkKalajuks – Ants

  Anniasuitik – Shaman of Medicine

  Anirnaq – The First Direhounds

  Anirniq – Soul

  Anga – Yes

  Atsinguak – Gift

  Auka – No

  I

  Ijik – Eye(s)

  Ikialuit! – Damnit or damn you, depending on phrasing.

  Ilisimaik – Craziness

  Ipatsik – Understand

  Ipvit – You

  K

  Kaijuuti – Coyote Tribe

  Kakiannangituk – Unpleasant

  Kavinguak – Much noise

  Kulgoskarrik – A lizard, known for dropping its tail when frightened with a sudden loud burst

  Kutsutak – Yellow

  Kuviasotikak – Ridiculous

  M

  Mitappuk(s) – Joke(s)

  N

  Nakummek – Thank you

  Nalligik – Love(s)

  Nokel-katantik – Honorable

  Nuni Lunikk – Moon Mother

  Nunivak – Pick berries

  Nutaqq – Child

  O

  Omajualuk – Monster

  P

  Paunngak – Berries

  Pattangaititsik – Protecting

  Piujuk – Good

  Piunngituk Silatsuak – Bad Earth

  Pijagia-keh – Different

  Pilluak – Smart, clever, skillful

  Pitsatujuk – Powerful

  Q

  Qilakpaangut – sky-eyed wanderer who flies like a startled birdling

  Qimmit – Dog (or like a dog)

  S

  IkKumanngituk – Stupid

  Siku – Ice

  Siitani – Star cycles, or revolutions around the sun

  Sungittotanuk – A symbol

  T

  Tatannamek – Amazed / How Fascinating!

  Takutsuapuk – Kindness

  Tatsika Napattulik – The Darkened Forest

  Tillia-Kattak – Vermin (More than one meaning?)

  Tikatsiak – Strong twine

  U

  Ukalik – Hare

  Ukausik – Language of Direhounds

  Ukiuq – Winter

  Ullak – Morning

  Nalligik-Paunngak Kutsutak-Ijik (Nalli) – Love(s) Berries Yellow-Eyes

  Akkitu-kumik Taggana-Tak (Umbra) – Soft-Scratch Shadow-Side

  (Uvaguk or Uvak)-kaik sollu pitsiak. Pik sivo-ganik – (We or I) Come as kin. Do not fear.

  Sakkik sollu pitsiak! Ipvut napaq kunulik… Amarik! – Appear as kin! But stand with… enemy!

  Qamut qimmit! Pilluq! – Cowardly dogs! Move!

  Sunas pait mittsikappuk, atiq? – What is your real/true name?

  Nuti Nannguk Kunnak – Great Fault of Kunnak

  Takutsuapuk aje atsinguak – Kindness is a treasure

  Vine & Fang posted for free reading. Redistribution prohibited.