Fennick shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his brushy tail twisting and curling against the horse's smooth, hot flank in protest to the cramping pains in his buttocks and thighs. He was not so accustom to riding as to be able to sit a horse most of the day every day without his body wailing. He gritted his pointed teeth and stilled the flicking of his tail as Falcon trotted past, glancing at him coldly. Falcon was no more used to horses than Fennick, but his stern and stoic nature did not permit any sign of displeasure or pain to reveal itself to the others, and Fennick was determined not to seem any less strong than his brother.

Sighing softly, Fennick hummed quietly to himself and focused on the beauty of the lush forest around him, something he'd never seen before three days ago. The great oaks and elms spread wide branches and huge leaves in a cathedral ceiling a hundred feet above the riders, leaving the forest floor deep and cool in shadow with sprinklings of dappled sunlight dancing like faeries on the occasional patch of berry bushes or sweetly-scented flowers.

Squirrels scurried up the massive gnarled tree trunks to leap about above in great sport, and would pause now and then in their pursuits to shake their tails and chatter angrily at the Knight's invasion. Mice and other small animals rustled through the ground cover, and once a fat badger waddled across their path, seemingly so intent on his destination he did not notice the horses' hooves falling around him. Deer and elk were plentiful and unafraid, watching the Knights with dark, liquid eyes as they paused in their browsing. They had seen no other humans since entering the woods three days ago.

Fennick held all of this natural beauty in awe. He had never seen trees that were not stunted, twisted, and leafless, or such abundance of birds and animals, or a land so rich with fertile soil and clean, clear water. His mind boggled with all the possibilities that lay on the ground around him. Soon, he thought resolutely, I will begin to make myself a good ash bow with deer sinew, and a set of hawk-fletched arrows with real steel tips. Then a hide and oak canteen, and a new shirt. How cheap everything must be in this land! His thoughts lead his eyes to the richly clothed and adorned figure riding stiffly in front of him, a vision wrapped in finely dyed leather, linen, and wool.

Fennick sucked in his breath sharply, feeling blush stain his cheeks a delicate rose and his loins tighten before he dragged his eyes away from Kendel Trent's firm, straight back, golden braid, and the enormous ancient sword crossing him diagonally from hip to shoulder. Kendel had joined them just three weeks ago, and since the first Fennick's lust, love, and longing for the emotionally-distant beautiful warrior-boy had grown exponentially, surprising even Fennick with its feverish intensity and shaking need. He no longer trusted himself to sit near Kendel, nor speak with him.

If only I could be assured he would take it well, Fennick thought hopelessly, Just with understanding, if not with returned emotion. But. Ah, damn, I am so sure that the code that he follows would not allow it; the church he obeys preaches it an abomination. He would hate me, and of all things, I could not stand that.

So intent was Fennick upon his own misery that he did not notice the little straw-thatched inn sitting along the trail in its own lake of sunshine until his horse broke into a bouncy trot, eager for the stables, a good rub, and some oats. Thorn reined in and dismounted, and the others followed. Fennick gave a sigh of relief, and rubbed his lower back with one rough hand as he led the horse into the stable.

Once the horses were rubbed down, fed, and watered, the five men went into the inn, and Fennick glanced around with great curiosity at the cobble and wood walls and the abundance of wooden furniture. A young lady came out from behind the counter and bustled about them like a clucking mother partridge, then flounced into the back to fetch their food and drinks as the men gratefully sank down into the well-padded chairs around the hearth.

Fennick nestled into the embrace to a great rearing velvet throne and curled up, his tail around his delicately furred ankles, too tired to even give their hostess a second glance. He stared moodily into the fire, then shook himself as he felt himself falling into a stupor of sleepiness and turned his gaze to his companions.

Bayolin and Thorn were talking quietly to each other about their rendezvous with Randall, their voices a soothing background murmur. Falcon was already up and prowling the room, pacing back and forth and jerking his tail fitfully as though he was angry, though Fennick could see nothing to upset him. Kendal was staring at the fire as Fennick had just been, his blue eyes distant and dreamy, the lines of his face slack and peaceful.

Fennick's bright green eyes paused there hungrily, soaking in the details of the other man like bread soaking up milk. Kendel's booted feet were up on the hassock in front of him, and his long, lean legs were crossed. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and his head was propped on his hand, with strands of his fine, silken hair curving past his jaw to fall against his wrist. He had-for once-removed the large antique sword from his back, and it hung in its scabbard from the back of his chair. The light from the flames flickered over his china-pale skin, giving it a golden glow and setting his hair alight with an inner blaze. Fennick's eyes stumbled over of the folds of his worn-soft cotton shirt where it fell around his slender waist, then over the skin-tight suede breeches outlining Kendel's smoothly muscled thighs to the tops of his dark green leather boots. Fennick sucked in a breath and swallowed hard, while his mind chasing its own tail in a stupid circle of desire and self-recrimination and his stomach rolling over sickeningly. He frowned and bit at his lip with cat-like pointed canine teeth.

Kendel turned at the soft inhalation to look back at Fennick, and the sand- cat blushed faintly as he was caught staring. His tail flicked rapidly in agitation. Kendel's own eyes narrowed as he studied the other man openly for a moment before turning back to the fire silently, a faint rosy flush marking his cheeks as well.

The food arrived then, dished out to the small, low wooden tables that rested between the comfortable clusters of chairs. Falcon finally sat down beside Thorn, though Fennick noticed that his brother kept glancing his way with a suspicious and irritated look on his face. Fennick reached out and placed choice bits of food on a plate before settling back in the chair to eat, his glass of wine half-finished after one desperate gulp.

Fennick was so engrossed in his food and quelling his riled emotions that at first he did not notice that Kendel had not even spared the food a glance. The blonde warrior remained unmoving, the reflected flames dancing in his eyes, and Fennick licked his hand-pads as he set his plate down, his head cocked quizzically.

" ?" He gestured at the plates. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Kendel turned, his gaze immediately meeting Fennick's questioning eyes and causing another blush. "No," he answered, then looked away again, seemingly indifferent. "I cannot eat, thank you."

Fennick wondered what that meant and how far he could push the younger man's patience before Kendel left the room. Kendel never seemed to get angry; when confronted about something he didn't want to discuss, he either sank into himself and refused to talk or sought out solitude. He picked up a warm bacon roll and waved it temptingly. "C'mon, Ken. You have to keep your strength up, and the food is really good. You should eat something."

Kendel shot him an irritated look, his lips pressed into a thin pink line. "I cannot, thank you," he said again firmly, trying to close the issue.

Fennick waved the roll again, then sighed plaintively. "This is another one of your 'honor' things, isn't it?" He flicked his tail. If that were the case, it wouldn't matter if Kendel starved, so long as he didn't break his word to himself and defile his flawless honor.

"I am punishing myself for breaking the Code," Kendel said softly. "I deny myself comforts I do not need, and I am still weak. Steel must be forged from slag."

Fennick bit his lip again and pressed his ears back, setting the roll down to be forgotten on the table. Kendel already knew what Fennick thought of the Code and his honor as a kutari, and the sand-cat had no wish to rehash that particular argument again, though this again reinforced his opinion that the Code was stifling, antiquated, and presented unreasonable demands on those that would follow it and call themselves kutari. He was almost certain that this was not the first time this week that Kendel had skipped a meal or had ritually shed his own blood to atone for his Code-breaking, and upon closer inspection, Fennick noted that Kendel seemed tired: his eyes were bruised with weariness and his jaw was held tense.

Fennick forced his ears forward and a nonchalant expression to his face, and he shrugged, sliding a wineglass across the low table with an outstretched paw-foot. "You may not eat, but you say nothing of drink. which-certainly!-even kutari masters must do." He returned his paw-foot to his seat and watched Kendel curiously.

Kendel looked at the dark ruby liquid, and then at Fennick warily, waiting for some sort of rude or out-of-place comment or a trick. After a moment in which neither man moved, Kendel picked up the glass and sipped at it delicately.

Fennick grinned to himself.