An Echo of the Unperceived

The slight smile and the hands lifted placatingly did nothing to stop the hairs on the back of Dray's neck lifting. Just something in the way the man moved, in the way his sharp hazel eyes flicked over him.

And the collar glinting around his neck, just above his leather jacket.

Shihk, I have to get out of here. If he could get enough of a head start, he could make it over into the underway where the nose-freeze grew—

“Hey hey hey, easy there, pup.” The man fluted a soft sound that froze Dray in his tracks. “I’m not here to hurt you, or take you in, or bite your head off. I just want to talk.”

His fingers clenched against sweaty palms as he edged another step back. “Why?”

The other smiled again, casually canting his head and dropping his hands to his sides, still open. “Name’s Jos. I think you’ve already guessed what I am, am I right?”

Dray wondered if he could hear his heart attempting to throb out of his ears. He was familiar, and Dray could’ve sworn he’d seen him with Uncle Menton before. “Are you with my uncle?”

He hadn’t immediately jumped on him, at least, so maybe he did want to talk. Unless he was stalling so his kinmit could ambush him. Dray threw a quick look around, stomach clenching in knots. Was that a shadow in the bushes—?

A brief laugh snapped his attention back to Jos. “And here I thought you wouldn’t recognise me. I’m the Penn Draig of his team, not here to drag you in, or hunt you down, or any of the things it looks like you’re thinking. I’m just here to talk. Give you a little advice.” The man paused, and every muscle in Dray’s body somehow wound tighter. “From one thyre to another.”

His jaw tightened as Jos’s eyes met his deliberately. He refused to reach for his neck, even as the bite twinged, tingling hard enough to make his cheek twitch. “What kind of advice?”

Jos blinked, tilting his head, before switching back to an easy and friendly and very obviously nonthreatening smile in an instant. “How much do you know about your new condition?”

He refused to react. “Enough.”

“Good. Then you’d know you’re not going to make it past Dragon’s Crown,” the thyre said breezily.

And everything in Dray abruptly froze. “What?”

“I can see the signs.” The man gestured towards him as Dray took half a step back. It felt like someone had replaced his lungs and shoved them up his throat, just below where his heart pulsed between his teeth. “I can already sense you, though I’m not sure if you can sense me yet from the way you’re reacting. By tomorrow I’d bet every measly pinse the bosses pay me that you will. You’re running out of time, pup, way too fast. And that’s going to be Hahll’s breath on you.”

Dray's tongue shrivelled up, his throat closed. That couldn’t be right. I’m not— He didn’t feel that bad. There was that vague feeling, but it was barely anything. It couldn’t be.

The ground threatened to disappear beneath his numb legs. He couldn’t be right. “You— you’re trying to fold me.”

Jos just tilted his head, and clicked.

Something yanked at the inside of his head, blanking him out. Dray twitched, his hand clamping over the bite as it bit down deep into his bones, his breath hitching, throat clenched tight as if he— Shihk. Shihk. What was that?

“You can feel the hollow, can’t you?”

By the time he realised the other was moving, Jos had already crossed half the distance between them. Dray snapped back, baring his teeth, the fuzz of his pulse ringing in his head and the pain spearing down straight to his ribcage drowning out his jrahking sense. Don’t. Don’t.

“Alright, alright, no need to hiss.” Jos took a step back, waving his hands. “You’re not quite sold on it. That’s fine. I won’t force you.”

Shihk. He shook his head, trying to catch his breath, trying to rattle out a thousand jagged fragments of confusion and bone-deep fear coiling up in the pit of his stomach. No. This wasn’t happening. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. Had he...? He hadn’t hissed. He hadn’t done anything, had he? He'd almost—

“Jrahk.” Dray dug his fingers in his scalp, the ringing of his ears blocking out the sound of the trees rustling, turning it to static. His hands shook.

“...Shihk. You alright there, pup?”

Shaking his head, he stepped back, the bark of the weeping-branch digging into his back, clammy sweat sticking his shirt to his skin making the roughness of it ten thousand sandpaper times worse. Oh Light. Oh Light this wasn’t good. I’m— Something caught in his throat, a sound he couldn’t choke out, didn’t want to. No. He couldn’t tell if it would come out human or—

Ley please. I need to get out of here.

“Easy there, pup—”

“No.” He stabbed his hand out, lips curled back from his teeth like a cornered animal, forcing the thyre back as he tried to approach again. “You... stay... stay the sluhk away from me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to set you off like that.” The thyre held his hands up, a stricken expression on his face. “I’m sorry, pup. Really. I just want to help.”

“Then get away from me,” he snarled. His head pounded, skin crawling like cracked ancient parchment about to roll up and skitter away on the wind. Stumbling back, he shoved away from the tree, every fibre screaming at him to bolt, every nerve telling him not to turn his back.

“Shihk, kip, I can help. I can make it stop. I can help you, alright? Just listen for a moment. Calm down.” The man’s fingers twitched as he visibly stopped himself from taking a step forward. “Listen to me. Yes, you’ll turn on Dragon’s Crown if you keep running away. The only way you can make it is if you let me help you.”

Dray's hand squeezed around the crook of his neck, teeth gritted. As if. First he told him he was going to turn on Dragon’s Crown, then he messed with him, and now he was offering him the only way out. That was what this all came down to, wasn’t it? Trying to shove him in the yard.

Blinking away stings of sweat, he backed further down the path, holding the therrolf's gaze defiantly. “Let you lock me up. That’s what you mean.”

“I know you’re scared. You’re not thinking straight.” Jos kept his hands out, as if he needed them near any weapons to be a threat. “But kinmit helps make the process easier. I’m not lying, you can look it up. It can make the miasma less potent, help ease the symptoms if they’re showing too early.”

His spine crawled. “I’m not part of your kinmit.”

The thyre took a step forward, his muscles loose and low as if he was trying to approach a feral canid. “I’m not saying you are, and you don’t have to be—”

“Get back,” he barked.

The man stopped, and Dray took the chance to back further down the path, risking a quick glance over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the wall from here, but the city was visible past the trees. Not that far.

“Please, pup. You’re going to make this worse on yourself. I swear on my tines I won’t hurt you. I know how it feels—I went through this.” Jos tensed, ever so slightly. He knows I’ll run. All pretense of playing nice and friendly would go out the window when he did. “I know it sounds like I’m just trying to take you away from your family, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you together. To keep your life as normal as I can.”

“You can’t promise that.”

He didn’t deny it. “I can promise to do my best if you come with me. And let you visit your family as often as you want. Menton being your uncle will make that easier, if you’re part of my kinmit. But I can’t guarantee that if the rest of the force are the ones to take you in. They will throw you in the canid yard if they catch you, and I know they’re close. They’ve got enough details for it, Dray.”

He’d already known that. But hearing it tightened the coil in his gut. Dray swallowed. Maybe there was a thread of truth in what Jos was saying. He couldn't run forever.

The thyre tentatively took a step towards him when he didn’t speak, and rumbled a soft clicking... churr. It called to him, tugging deep in his chest. Like it was telling him it’d be alright. Like... a monster’s call echoing in a dark tunnel, seeking him, fangs dripping black ink.

And he remembered what he was talking to.