"Damn it!" Valen's fist slammed the wooden table, rattling the plates. "We could've done more. Why weren't we suspicious? Why didn't we save them?" He paced, the whip coiled around his wrist pulsing with his agitation.
Mona watched him, her tail flicking. "We find where they're takin' them," she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing her insides. "Maybe we can still help."
Valen's gaze snapped back to the parchment. "The destination isn't listed. Only a 'private buyer'... origin, 'private seller'. But the royal seal..." He trailed off, the implication heavy in the air. "This can't be. Lord Aldric outlawed this after the uprising. He swore to uphold the peace." His eyes darkened. "But if this caravan is connected to Calamor... it means someone's breaking that peace. Someone with enough power to twist the system itself."
"Mona." Valen's brow furrowed. "I need you to stay here. Keep safe. I'm going into town to trace this caravan." His hand lingered on the door handle. "Promise me you won't leave."
She looked up, her expression a blend of concern and resolve, and nodded. "I promise." Her tail curled around his leg. "But be careful," she added, her voice a soft mewl of worry.
With a final nod, Valen was gone, his boots echoing on the cobblestones. His mind raced with the discovery, his heart a lead weight. The thought of his friends, the beastfolk of Calamor, in chains drove him forward. The city's smells and sounds washed over him—merchants' cries, the clang of a blacksmith's hammer, children's laughter—a world blissfully unaware. His destination was clear: The Crescent Moon, where whispers often turned to shouts.
He pushed into the dimly lit room, the scent of cheap ale and candlewax hitting him first, then the underlying musk of the patrons. Before he could call out, a sultry figure blocked his path, emerald eyes gleaming.
The elf's gown shimmered like moonlight, her raven hair a cascade over one shoulder. "Looking for something... or someone?" she purred, her voice a silken whisper.
"Fioré," Valen said, voice low and urgent. "Tell her it's Valen. She'll know."
The elf's smile widened. She nodded and slipped into the shadows. Valen took a seat, his hand resting on the whip at his side, its handle a familiar, comforting weight. The air was thick with secrets, and his own pressed down on him.
A moment later, Fioré appeared, sliding into the opposite chair with a panther's grace. "Qu'est-ce qui t'amène?" she asked, her voice a seductive purr. "What brings you here, my dear?" She saw his desperate gaze, and raised a hand. "Ah. Private matters. Very well." She welcomed him into her private room.
"Fioré, I need your help. Something's wrong." He leaned in, glancing around. "A caravan leaving the city. The manifest said 'livestock,' but the smell... it was beastfolk."
She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Beastfolk? In a caravan?" She took a sip of wine, eyeing him over the rim. "Mon cher, your stories are as vivid as ever." A gentle clink as she set the goblet down. "I will take your word for it. However, I can't risk direct involvement without something more tangible, Valen."
"Fio, I'm serious." He leaned closer. "Mona's with me now. She tracked the scent. Said it was like Luna's." His eyes searched hers, desperate for recognition. "We need to know where they're being taken. Who's behind this."
A flicker of memory crossed Fioré's face. "Ah," she murmured, taking another sip. "The little catfolk with the golden eyes. So curious." Her smile faded. "And now you say she has found something troubling."
Valen watched the subtle retreat in her demeanor. "This isn't just about me. Luna's part of Calamor too. If the imperial guard is involved, she isn't safe."
"Valen, you know that poking your nose where it doesn't belong stirs a hornet's nest. We have all made our peace here, non? Carved a life from the shadows. What good will this bring?"
"I know the risks. But if there's a chance someone is enslaving beastfolk again, I can't ignore it. You know that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And if Luna's in danger, you won't be able to ignore it either. I don't understand this... this coldness." Valen's voice was thick with bewilderment. He'd thought her a friend, someone who understood the struggle. "I thought we were on the same side. Fighting for a world without fear."
She leaned back, her eyes scanning the room before returning to him. "We are on the same side, cher. But I have responsibilities here. Luna is well cared for. If you wish to be a hero, then go. But, Valen," she warned, her smile turning cold. "The law has teeth, and you are poking a very large beast."
"I understand your concerns. But I can't sit idle. I'll bring you proof. Then you'll have no choice but to help." He stood, his chair scraping the floor. His eyes held a silent plea.
She studied him, her emerald gaze unreadable. "Très bien," she said finally. "But be careful, Valen. The shadows are deeper than you think." She leaned in, her voice a whisper. "If you find what you seek, bring it to me. I will help you. But I cannot guarantee the cost."
"Understood." His jaw clenched. Her lack of urgency was a stone in his gut. He nodded curtly and strode out, the door swinging shut with a final thud.
Fioré watched him leave, her expression troubled. The claim was ludicrous. The peace was stable. Wasn't it? But Valen was not a man swayed by whispers. He had seen horrors that changed a soul. With a sigh, she rose, her gown whispering across the floor as she went to Luna's chamber.
She paused, then rapped gently on the door adorned with a small brass crescent moon. "Luna, ma chérie? A word?"
Inside, Luna looked up from her sewing, her large doe eyes curious. "Madame Fioré?" she called, setting her needle aside.
Fioré stepped in, a mask of serenity on her face. "Luna, my dear," she said, closing the door. Her eyes scanned the room. "Is all well?"
Luna's ears flattened slightly at Fioré's tone. "Yes, everything's fine," she said, a little too quickly. Her paws trembled as she set the sewing down. "What is it, Fioré?"
"Just a... check-in." Fioré forced a smile, stepping closer. "Luna, do you remember the night I found you?"
Luna nodded, her eyes widening. "Yes," she whispered. "Two men... chasing me. They had ropes. They smelled... scary." She shuddered, her tail tucking close.
Fioré's expression grew serious. "Do you remember anything else, darling?" she asked gently, stroking Luna's fur. "Anything that might tell us why?"
Luna's eyes clouded. "It's... fuzzy. They talked about a 'big payout'... a buyer who paid well for 'rare stock'." She swallowed hard, fear rising in her eyes. "That's all I remember."
Fioré's eyes sharpened at 'rare stock'. "Luna," she said, her voice urgent but soft, "that is important. It could mean the beastfolk being taken are special. Not just any slaves." She took a deep breath. "Thank you for telling me."
She leaned down and kissed Luna's forehead. "Merci, ma petite. You have been a great help." With a gentle pat, she straightened and moved to the door. "Now, get some rest. If you remember anything else, anything, you come to me."
As Fioré reached for the knob, Luna's small voice piped up. "Madame Fioré?" She turned back. "Oui?"
"Could... could I invite my friend Mona to visit?" Luna's gaze dropped, her cheeks flushing. "I miss her. I think she'd like it here."
"Your friend?" Fioré's eyes searched hers. After a moment, she nodded slowly. "I suppose it could be arranged. But only if it is safe for her. The city is not so welcoming anymore."
Luna's eyes lit up, her tail flicking joyfully. "Oh, thank you, Fioré! She's good company, I promise! And so clever!"
With a small smile, Fioré nodded. "D'accord. But be careful, Luna. The world outside is not always kind." With a final look, she slipped out, closing the door.
Fioré's final warning—"The world outside isn't always kind"—echoed in the quiet room, and the words twisted into a key, unlocking a door Luna kept locked deep inside. The memory didn't come back as a story, but as a flood of sensations.
The kind of rain pelting the fields. The weight of a food pouch in her hand. Her brother Blitz's ginger fur, damp with her tears as she nuzzled him goodbye.
It had been a night like any other in Jule until the cottage door slammed open. Their neighbor, Mr. Arte, stood trembling. "Rinna! They've taken Millie!"
Luna's mother, a majestic creature of snow and shadow, didn't speak. A sound ripped from her throat, half-snarl, half-sob, and she was gone—a blur into the darkness, chasing her daughter's scent.
Luna stood frozen. "What do you mean, 'taken'?"
"Traffickers," Mr. Arte choked out, his eyes wide. "They're snatching the young ones. They'll be back for more. For you."
The world tilted. Luna remembered running then, her paws pounding the streets, her calls for her mother swallowed by the night. She found nothing but the smell of fear and distant torch smoke.
When she returned, hollowed out, the cottage door was ajar. Inside, Mr. Arte knelt beside a trembling Blitz. He looked up at Luna, his face a mask of pity and resolve.
"Your mother is a fighter. She's out there. But you, child, you must run. Now." He pressed a pouch of food into her hands. "There's a place near Calamor. Whisperwind. A refuge. Go. Don't stop for anyone."
She remembered the feel of Blitz's fur against her cheek, one last time. "Be good, brother."
Then she was running, the moon her only guide. The journey was a blur of terror and exhaustion. Days later, her legs gave out in a sun-drenched clearing. She collapsed into the tall grass and fell into a sleep of nightmares: shadowy figures with ropes, her sister's cry.
A hand, rough and cruel, closed around her midsection, yanking her into the present.
She gasped, clawing instinctively. A musky, human stench filled her nose. Her claws found flesh. A curse. She twisted, biting, and her paws hit the ground.
"Got the little 'un!" a man roared. "Imagine the coin if we find her mom!"
Her eyes locked on his face—harsh, bisected by a jagged scar. His companion lunged. She darted, a phantom in the grass, and then she ran. Not toward safety, but toward the city lights, praying she found a friendly face.
The memory released her as suddenly as it had seized her. Luna sat bolt upright on her bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the phantom scent of the traffickers still in her nose.
She hugged her knees to her chest, her tail wrapping tightly around her legs. "They're okay," she whispered to the silent room, a desperate mantra. "Mother was strong. Millie was brave. They're okay."
But the doubt was a cold stone in her gut, and she knew, with the certainty of a scar, that she was lying to herself.
***
Valen pushed into the quiet of his home, the day's failure a lead weight in his chest. He'd scoured the city from the brothel to the taverns, turning over every stone. Nothing. His eyes scanned the room for Mona, but found only stillness.
"Mona?" he called, his voice worn thin. He kicked his mud-caked boots against the wall. "Nothing new on the caravan." The frustration was a live wire under his skin. "But I'm not giving up. We will find the truth."
From a shadowed corner, two yellow eyes gleamed. Mona emerged, a piece of parchment clutched in her paws. "I've been busy," she purred, her tail flicking with excitement. The parchment's edges were ragged from her grip. She'd found a piece of chalk and covered the paper in crude, earnest scratches, her tongue poking out in concentration.
Valen's gaze softened. "What have you been working on?" He took the parchment. The marks were clumsy, but held the ghost of letters. "You've made progress."
"Mona, can you tell me what it says?" He crouched, his voice gentle as he scanned the chalky scrawl.
"It says... 'Welcome home, Valen.'" Her voice trembled, eyes locked on the paper as if the letters might flee. "I... I don't know if I'm doin' it right."
Valen's heart squeezed. He could barely make out his name, the rest a hopeful jumble. "You're doing wonderfully," he said, his smile warm and true. He couldn't help a soft chuckle. "Such a quick learner." He ruffled the fur between her ears. "Keep this up, you'll be out-reading me soon."
Mona's eyes went wide, her tail swishing. "Really?" She leaned into his touch, the praise warming her like a sunbeam. "I wanna be smart as you, Valen!"
He laughed, the sound easing the day's tension. "I'm no scholar, but thank you." Her kindness was a balm, a warmth in his chest. He stifled a yawn. "But it's time for rest."
Mona watched him stand, her tail giving a tentative twitch. "Valen?" Her voice was small, hopeful. "Can I go see Luna?"
Valen nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "We can try. But you'll need a disguise. It's not safe for you in the city." He led her to a chest and pulled out a cloak, too large for her small frame. "This should do." He wrapped it around her, the fabric swallowing her form. "It'll hide your ears and tail. Keep the hood up, understand?"
With the cloak secured, he gave her head an affectionate pat. "Good night, little one."
He watched her for a moment—her eyes reflecting the candlelight—then turned toward his bed, weariness pulling him under. Sleep claimed him quickly, his dreams a turbulent sea of half-formed plans and shadows that danced just out of reach.
Mona's thoughts raced like a wildfire as Valen's words settled in her mind. 'We can try' didn't mean 'wait until tomorrow', did it? Her eyes gleamed with excitement under the hood as she slipped out of the house, her heart fluttering like a caged bird's. The night air was cool and invigorating, a stark contrast to the warmth she had just left behind.
With the cloak billowing around her like a shadowy shroud, Mona took to the rooftops with a grace that belied her usual feline laziness. Each bound was calculated, her muscles coiling and releasing with the precision of a creature born to the night. The cobblestone streets of Calamor stretched out like a labyrinth below, the distant glow of the Crescent Moon beckoning her. Yet, as she drew closer to the brothel, her eyes locked to a peculiar sight. Below, several guards surrounded a container resembling the one they had passed earlier. She recalled his surprise. Valen said this isn't right...
Before she met Valen, she would have written this off as human noise. But now, she realizes it can't be ignored. Her ears perked up, her eyes narrowing, and she froze just before her next leap. Her heart raced, and she bit her lip in concentration. If she told Valen, she could get into trouble, but if she didn't, she might miss a chance to help someone in need. She knew he would want to help, but what if it was a trap? Her instincts screamed at her to stay hidden, but her newfound courage urged her to act.