Ripples in the Water

Dray straightened at Stov's dry greeting, two pairs of eyes meeting his as he patted the packaged stuffing under his arm. “I had to pick up some things, like this felid.”

Erold grumbled as Dray slapped at his back, dropping his own package with a thump. “He bullied me the whole way here.”

Dray laughed, setting the packet on top of Erold’s and smiling at Neri, who'd perched herself in the corner on the box they usually used as a monitor stand, her curly blonde hair tied back. “Looks like you’ve already made some progress.”

“I’m cutting them out, she’s stitching them up. Not much to it.”

He pulled the hatch down again, blocking out the cooling air and the rush of city noises. “Good to hear, because marking out the pieces was a drelf.”

“So glad I wasn’t here for that part.”

“Yeah.” Turning again, he eyed Stov pointedly. “So how’d that 'urgent' coursework go?”

Stov glanced up from carefully carving along the line on the smooth backing of the down-fabric, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “I helped you with the measurements.”

This guy, he mouthed at Erold and Neri. The dramatics drew a smile from both of them, his little brother snorting as he lifted a bottle to his lips.

Thumping Stov on the shoulder with the side of his fist, Dray peered down at the pieces that still needed cutting out—not many, actually. “Nice. Looks like we'll actually finish it tonight.”

“We might have, if you hadn’t just tipped the balance.”

“You tip it right back again.”

“...We’ll never finish.”

“That’s the spirit.” He turned to Neri, carefully picking his way over the mess of pieces tossed towards the bench along the back wall. Ducking a longer strand of glow-string, he snatched up a couple. Hm. Wasn't just those, either. It looked like a couple of markers and other things had ended up on the ground.

“Somebody knock into the bench?” He set them on the table, taking a quick look at Neri’s work. “Good stitching!”

He got a quick smile in return. “Thanks.”

Stov clearing his throat made him glance back, the other thumbing at the bench. “Something knocked into it, but we don’t know what.”

He blinked, the smile falling into a frown as he stepped back. “'Something’?”

“Probably just a fluff-dragon got in under the hatch. Wasn’t closed properly when I opened it up.”

Dray hummed under his breath, leaning on the surface, things scattered everywhere.... The little markers had spilled out of their container, still where they’d fallen when it'd tipped over. And the tool-cage attached to the wall'd been rattled, the carving knives that usually hung from their slots now lying on top or the floor.

“I knew you’d want to study the crime scene, so I left it like I found it.”

He flicked a dry glance back at Stov. “Thanks.”

“He’s planning to join Uncle Ment in the force. You should hear him, he’s already lecturing me about therrolves being people. He’ll make a great handler.”

“Therrolves are people, mew.”

“The scary kind of people....” Neri murmured.

Dray tuned them out, turning his attention back to the mess and rolling one of the markers with his finger. Something about this looks... strange. Glancing up, he raked his eyes over the shelves. Most items were in place there, but... were they slightly off?

Did the slot feeder used to be right there? The game tokens seemed just a little less neat, too.

If a fluff-dragon had gotten in, I feel like more things would be on the floor.

“...stories are just blown—”

“Hey Stov,” he interrupted his friend’s rant, “did you move anything? Nothing else was out of place when you came in?”

“Oh look, Uncle Ment’s in the room.”

“No.” Stov ignored Erold’s comment, his brown eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”

Dray regarded the synthsheets, scribbles of measurements, rough diagrams, and a small cartoony sketch Stov'd made of Likkle—the character they were making a floffie of—rippling under his finger. “And no one moved the synthsheets?”

A series of “no”s answered him. He frowned. “If a felid or a fluff-dragon had been in here, why would these be laid out like this? I stacked them yesterday.”

“Hrmmm.” Erold planted a hand on his hip, rubbing at his chin and doing a bad job of deepening his voice an octave. “My investigative senses are tingling.”

Dray rolled his head to fix him with a look. “It’s not something, it’s someone who’s been in here.”

Erold stiffened, a stifled “what?” coming from Neri, her eyes flicking to the curtains and the hatch.

Stov went expressionless. “You’re sure it wasn’t just one of the others?”

“Even Frihn wouldn’t leave everything like this.” Dray started scooping up the markers, tipping the holder right-side up again. “And if he had he would've messaged me. Besides, him and Laif barely ever come over by themselves. Ranz only comes by for matches, too.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever been here,” Neri said quietly. Her gaze flicked up to his as he turned to her, her fingers fidgeting at the edge of the fabric. “Who would want to come in and look around?”

“Some scuzz-addled creeper, probably.”

He glanced at Stov. “Or it could be someone like us who was just curious. At least he didn’t take anything. Still,” he went on, stepping over to Erold and picking one of the Lucky Canid meal packets off the floor, “I’m going to send a message out. We should make sure we lock up after we’re here, so we don’t end up with creeps crawling around.”

“...What if he comes back?” Neri was still throwing glances at the hatch.

He smiled at her, popping a fry-ring into his mouth. “He won’t while we’re here. And if he does, the hatch is strong enough to keep anyone out.”

She just glanced at it again, a crinkle hovering around her eyebrows.

Now that he thought about it, maybe keeping his suspicions to himself would've been a better idea. Picking out another ring, he drew one of the stuffing packages over and flopped onto the floor, crunching decisively. “Okay, enough with all the negative weight. Let’s get Lik stitched up and stuffed."

As they set to it, Dray glanced over at a very-quiet Erold staring off in the direction of the hatch, eyes unfocused.

Couldn’t really blame him. Didn't seem so cozy anymore with the dark lurking behind the curtain, and the ghostly whispers of traffic on the street seeping in through the cracks.

“Catch.” He tossed a wad of soft, fluffy stuffing at him, giving Erold a smile when he twitched and fumbled at catching it. “Come on, stormcloud, we’ve got a gift to make.”

The shadows of imaginary creeping stalkers faded as they worked. But the chatter stayed muted, Erold still flicking glances over, Neri's knees curled up off the floor.

It was late when they finished.

And the final product flopped down, almost as tall as him. Waving one of the paws with a grin, Dray quoted, “'Let’s sniff for clues!’”

“You’re such a child.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, he covered the floffie’s ears, shaking his head at Stov. “Don’t listen to him, Likkle. You’re a good, mature canid.”

As Erold rolled his eyes, Neri laughed. “I think it’s turned out really well. He’s cute.”

Turning the toy around, he admired the glass-bead eyes, flicking the tongue extending out of the stitched mouth. “Better than the official ones. ‘Tia’s gonna love it." Handing it over at Neri's gesture, he announced, "You’re all getting credited and signed up for hugs when it’s officially hand-over time, by the way. And she will crush your ribs.”

Stov groaned quietly, and Dray gave him a sympathetic pat. “It’s only once. You can check into the medical centre afterwards and get a pass for less coursework as a bonus.”

“Look forward to it.”

“It can already see her dragging it everywhere. It’s taller than she is,” Erold put in, anticipation shining in his eyes.

Grinning, he tousled its head. “It's almost—”

Krunhk.

The sound of something falling outside cut him off, all eyes instantly flicking to the window.

“What—?”

There was a soft clatter, and he cut Neri off with a quick gesture, all of them frozen as they listened. His heart thumped lightly in his ears, quiet breathing suddenly the only sound in the room.

Until soft panting snuffled outside, a quiet crunch like brittle shards under a boot reaching his ears. Something scratched at the wall, near the window.

"Is... is it a felid?"

The prowler snooping around their nook flashed to mind. But that didn’t sound like anything human.

Therrolf, his mind threw out, and he shoved that away. There hadn’t been one outside the doghouse in wars. And they’re just people.

Even people can be shadowed, though.

Another quiet crunch-shuffle, a soft snuffle, and his eyes caught the others’: Erold and Neri’s wide as she clutched the floffie, Stov’s narrowed. Holding a finger across his lips, he slowly crept up to the window, the beat of his heart quickening. Probably just a felid. Nothing big.

Nothing but a false alarm.

His fingers caught the edge of the curtain, the glow from inside reflecting off the half-milky glass and obscuring his view—

Apart from a pair of unblinking, glowing yellow eyes.