The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time we reached our caamp again but the air was still thick and damp.

Master walks straight to the fire pit and lays the big fox down on a flat stone beside it. The carcass lands with a soft, wet thud, its red tail flopping limply over the edge. Blood still slowly drips from the bolt wound, mixing with the rain on the stone.

I immediately drop to all fours beside the fire, tail lashing once in determination. “I’ll fix it,” I mutter, voice a little embarrassed. “Watch me, Master. Your kitten can at least do this right.”

I lean in close, ears forward, and start poking at the fire with a stick. The fire is still alive just barely, a few stubborn orange embers glowing under a layer of wet ash and half-burned twigs. The wind shifts at the worst possible moment, blowing a gust straight through the camp. I hiss in frustration and shove more dry tinder in, blowing hard on the embers.

Big mistake.

A thick blast of white smoke erupts upward, rolling straight into my face. I cough, ears flattening, but I keep going, adding more twigs, brushing harder with my hands. The fire flares for half a second… then immediately chokes again turning into a proper smoky mess.

My tail lashes angrily behind me, slapping the grass. “Stupid… stupid rain,” I growl under my breath, cheeks burning under my wet fur. I keep brushing anyway, refusing to give up, even as the smoke gets thicker and starts drifting sideways toward Master and the dead fox.

I glance over my shoulder at him, blue eyes wide and a little sheepish, “It’s… it’s going,” I insist, voice thick and pouty. “Just a little smoky. That’s fine, right? Makes it feel more like a real camp. More… us.”

I crawl back to him immediately, pressing my whole soaked body against his leg again, “Master can fix the fire better anyway,” I murmur against his leg, rubbing my cheek in slow, claiming circles. “But I tried. For you. Even if I made it all smoky and stupid…”

Master crouches beside the fire pit and takes over without a word. His hands move with that calm, effortless precision I love so much, shifting wet logs, blowing gently on the embers, feeding in drier twigs from the bundle he’d kept wrapped in cloth. The fire sputters, fights, then finally catches properly.

He straightens, reaches into his satchel, and pulls out the hunting iron dagger, “Butcher the fox while I keep the fire going.”

My ears snap forward. My tail lashes once in pure, delighted surprise, then curls high and proud behind me. He’s trusting me with this. Giving me the knife. Letting me provide for him properly. “Yes, Master,” I purr.

I take the dagger from his hand, letting my fingers brush his on purpose, claws grazing his skin just enough to feel him. Then I drop to all fours beside the dead father fox, tail wrapping twice around Master’s ankle so I’m still physically chained to him while I work.

The blade feels perfect in my grip.

I start with the same calm. First cut, right behind the jaw, sliding the iron in deep and clean. The hide parts. I peel it back in one smooth motion as I then begin precise, practiced slices along the belly, around the legs, separating the pelt in one beautiful piece that I lay aside like a trophy.

Blood runs warm over my hands, mixing with the rain still clinging to my fur, but my movements stay steady and sure. I then remove the organs neatly as the meat comes away in perfect strips.

When I’m finished, the fox is reduced to neat professional cuts laid out on the stone like something from a proper butcher’s stall in Merchant Cross.

I sit back on my heels, bloody dagger still in my hand, and look up at Master with wide, glowing blue eyes full of smug, spoiled pride. “See?” I murmur. “Your kitten can be useful. I did it perfectly… for you.”

I crawl forward immediately, pressing my whole blood streaked front against his leg again, face nuzzling hard into his thigh. “The fire’s still smoky,” I add softly, rubbing my cheek against him, “but the meat will taste even better that way… because I prepared it for you.”

Master’s hand comes down on my head first, warm, heavy, perfect. Fingers slide through my damp blonde hair, then settle behind my ears and start scratching in slow, firm circles. My ears flick once, then flatten completely in helpless bliss. A ragged, broken purr explodes out of my chest so loud it drowns out the crackle of the smoky fire.

“Mmmph… Master…” I whine softly. “Right there… yes… good… so good…”. He keeps scratching for a long moment, letting me melt into a puddle of wet fur and purring bliss, then gently tugs me forward, toward the fire.

I follow without hesitation, crawling on all fours right beside him, shoulder pressed to his hip, face nuzzling into his thigh the entire way. My tail stays wrapped around his wrist.

Master sits down on the spread cloak near the fire pit. I immediately crawl into his lap. He strokes my back slowly, then murmurs against my ear, “You’re still soaked… and now you’re covered in fox blood too. We’re not near any proper water here.”

I make a small, unhappy noise against his throat, tail squeezing his wrist tighter. Master keeps petting me, calm and steady, thumb brushing the base of my ear. “Tomorrow we’ll head out,” he says quietly. “Either east to the marshes or north to the Silver River. We’ll get you properly clean. Can’t have my kitten smelling like wet dog and blood for days.”

I huff a tiny, spoiled laugh and nuzzle harder into his neck, fangs grazing his neck in a gentle possessive nip before I soothe it with a slow lick. “Fine…” I murmur, voice already sleepy and content. “But only if you carry me the whole way tomorrow. And keep scratching me like this. And tell me I’m good again…”

Master’s fingers pause for just a second behind my ear, then he gives one last slow scratch before he speaks. “I make no promises.” The words are calm, almost teasing in that quiet way of his.

“Master…” I whine, voice thick and pouty, pressing my face harder into his neck. “You’re so mean to your poor wet kitten…” But even as I complain, my body betrays me as I melt completely against his chest, purring louder than ever.

He doesn’t argue. Just stands, lifting me with him for a moment before gently setting me on my feet beside the fire.

Master starts with the meat. He skewers the bigger cuts onto sticks and sets them over the smoky flames. Then a small drying rack and quickly sets it up near the fire. He slices the remaining meat into thin strips, salts them with a pinch from the little pouch, and hangs them neatly to smoke and dry overnight.

The meat cooks… okay. Not great. Not terrible. Just… meh. A little tough in places, a little too smoky in others, the outside charred while the inside stays a bit chewy. But it’s warm. It’s ours. And he made it.

“Mmm… acceptable,” I mumble around the mouthful. “Tastes better because you cooked it.” We eat in comfortable silence, sitting close enough that my knee rests against his thigh. Between bites I keep stealing glances at him. When we’re done, he pulls out one of our iron canteens and offers it to me first. I take a long drink, cool water cutting through the smoky taste.

After we finish eating, I crawl straight back into his lap, straddling his legs and wrapping both arms around his neck. “Tomorrow we’ll find proper water,” I murmur against his throat, nuzzling slow and lazy. “But tonight… I’m staying right here. All night. You’re not allowed to move unless I say so.”

Master’s voice perks up “So kitten,” he says, calm as ever, “two routes or three routes depending what you want. We can continue north through the forest until we get to the Silver River. We could head east to the marshes. Or join the minor trade routes of the Pepper Trade Republic and head towards the village of Clear View which is, I believe, about an hour from the coast.”

My ears flick forward at the sound of his voice, then slowly flatten as the options sink in. My tail, still wrapped around his waist squeezes hard.

The thought of any route that takes us near other people, merchants, traders, strangers who might look at him, makes my tail lash.

I nuzzle harder, lips dragging along his jaw, then nip once right under his ear. “North,” I growl. “Silver River. No people. No villages. No Pepper Republic idiots staring at you like you’re something they could buy or barter. Just trees and water and us.”

“East to the marshes might have warm springs… but it’s too open. Too many eyes. Too many things that aren’t me watching you.”

“And Clear View?”. “A village? An hour from the coast? Full of merchants and sailors and people who’d dare look at what’s mine? No. Never. I’d tear their throats out before they finished saying hello.”

I press my forehead to his, blue eyes locked on his, pupils blown wide. “North. Silver River. Quiet water. Deep forest. No one else. Just you and me and the sound of the current. I’ll hunt for you there. I’ll wash this stupid wet fur stink off in the river while you watch. I’ll curl around you every night until the stars forget how to shine.”

“That’s what I want, Master. That’s the only route I’ll accept.”

The fire is still crackling when Master finally speaks again “Then north it is.” That’s all he says.

Just those four words. He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Doesn’t need to. He simply stands, lifting me with him before setting me down beside the tent flap before he tthen ducks inside the opening. I follow instantly, crawling in on all fours, tail high and swaying, shoulder brushing his leg the entire way. 

Master lowers himself onto the bedroll first, stretching out on his back. Cloak still draped over his shoulders. I don’t hesitate. I crawl straight over him, knees on his hips, chest pressing flush to his, face burying deep into the crook of his neck. My tail unwraps from his waist only to coil around his torso.

“North,” I murmur against his lips. 

"Good cat." he responds.

My pupils blow wide as I lock on his face, on the calm curve of his mouth, on the way the firelight catches in his eyes and makes them glow.

I bare my fangs wider, slow, deliberate, lips peeling back as a low, rattling growl starts deep in my chest. All I care about is him looking at me like that, saying it like that, owning me with two stupid little words.

I surge even more forward.

“Good cat,” I echo back at him. My tail lashes once before it then coils tighter. “Say it again. Say it slower. Say it until I believe it’s the only thing left in the world.”

My pupils stay blown, fixed on his right eye, tracking every tiny flicker of light in it. I lean in until our noses brush, fangs grazing the corner of his mouth, not biting, not yet, just hovering there with trembling restraint.

My ears twitch once as I press my forehead to his, blonde hair falling damp and tangled between us. “You’re mine,” I whisper. “You called me good. You said it. You can’t take it back. You can’t ever take it back.”

"Of course" he says it. His hand then comes down on my head as he leans in. His tongue flicks out, warm, wet, deliberate and licks the tip of my nose in one slow, claiming stroke.

My whole body locks rigid. Pupils blow even wider.

"Now come on kitten, Master’s tired” he murmurs. He then curls onto his side, pulling me with him like I weigh nothing and I go instantly without any resistance as my body moulds to his back.

“Sleep, Master,” I whisper against his skin. “Your kitten’s got you. No one gets near. No one touches. No one even breathes in your direction unless I allow it.”