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Lee

My arm hurts. It always hurts. The pain's like an itch--like the kind you get in your throat. You can't really do anything to be rid of it. It's always just there.

The pain in my heart's the same way.

"Come on, son," Uncle Arthur sighed as he laid down his trusty blacksmith's hammer, a soft, chime-like ring rippling through our tent as the tool daintily struck his anvil. He grunted as he stretched his back and it cracked, then he stared at me sitting in the corner and his mutton chops fluttered in the heavy breath he let out. "This is supposed to help cheer you up. Why not go out and mingle a bit? Grab a turkey leg!" His stumpy tail wiggled at the idea of food.

I peered blankly through the flapping cloth that lead outside and watched as furs in medieval costumes tromped by laughing, giggling, and--once-- dueling. That's the only thing I've done all day: Sit and watch.

"I'm not hungry," I said remotely.

"Who said it was for you?"

Oh.

The dry straw covering the ground crunched beneath his boots as he came toward me. His steps kicked up its sweet, dusty scent and reminded me of when we harvested the wheat together back at the homestead. I'm glad we finished before I got hurt. I wouldn't have been able to drive the combine, and Uncle wouldn't have gotten all of the fields cleared. That would have been much-needed money down the tube and more things to worry about.

I was on the ground and leaning against one of the four wooden posts that erected our tent. The fur and skin along my spine pinched as I did my best to push myself up a bit with one arm. It's stiff work. The Sarmiento brace clasped onto my right limb like a clamshell keeps the broken thing straight and aligned, but accidentally moving it still sends pain firing through me like a gunshot. I've learned to just pin it to my side; hence the difficulty getting up.

Uncle's footsteps became hasty. "Easy, easy," he babied, crouching down and offering me his paw. His dappled blue fur was spiked with sweat, his leather apron riddled with dark specks that he'd been wiping from his brow. I looked up into his hard yet jolly face, his blue eyes somewhat dulled, and I immediately felt ashamed of myself. Here he was helping me again. That was all he ever did it seemed. He shook his outstretched hand and weakly smiled.

I could at least go and do something like he'd suggested; maybe catch a joust. I couldn't help him forge, but I could at least get out from under his feet. I was hurting him by being so sullen, and I was tired of sitting anyway.

I put my paw in his and he hefted me up carefully. "Good lad," he said with a grin. He then clucked around me like a mother hen and patted dirt and hay from the back of my breeches and surcoat.

My ears flicked to the grumble of his belly to which he paid no mind. He hadn't eaten all day. Neither had I, but I hadn't been able to stomach much since--well, you know. I'd lost some weight, but it wasn't obvious.

I'd be sure to get him something; especially after he suggested me to do so to begin with. "You want anything in particular?" I asked.

He stopped fussing over me, licked his lips, and then he scratched his chin. His eyes rolled around in his skull as if he were looking for an answer written on the back of his eyelids.

"Yes," he finally said.

"What?"

He chuckled and sat his big, leather-gloved paw atop my head and ruffled my hair playfully. He used to do it to me when I was a pup and I only came up to his waist. It made me smile. Fond memories began to flicker in the back of my mind.

"Have fun," he chimed. "That's what I want. Can you handle that, Lancelot?"

My heart warmed. He hadn't called me Lancelot since I was a pup either.

I grinned and relished in the loving sentiment of his paw atop my crown. "Yes, m'lord."

"Good!" he bellowed happily. "Now go on! Shoo!"

And with that he ushered me out of our tent and into the Heart of Albion Renaissance Fair.

This was my favorite Ren-fair, no doubt. Uncle and I had a reputation amongst the other reenactors as "the Knights of the forge" and we were always anticipated to come, but I almost didn't. Since I left the hospital six weeks ago I hadn't felt like doing much of anything. I mean, my humerus was fractured so I honestly couldn't do much to start with, but it was more than just my bodily injuries that kept me down.

I looked around, still at the mouth of our tent, to see if anything interesting drew my attention. The sooty scent of fire pits and charred meat wafted down the channel of other bland, oatmeal colored tents spread out all around me. My nose twitched as it took in the enticing aromas, and I grimaced as it stung, a bolt of sharp pain shooting between my eyes and down the back of my skull.

The split in the pad from where Red had punched me had to have stitches put in it. It still hadn't healed completely as, being a dog--a species so reliant on their schnoz--it was constantly flaring and opening the wound bit by bit. I'd tried over and over again to take it easy on the sniffing, but--damn, that's like asking a cat not to use their claws. I'm sure there'd be a scar, pale white down the black of my nose pad, and it would always be a constant reminder to how I'd attacked my best friend. Well, my once best friend.

I couldn't bear being around him anymore as, seeing his leg so swollen and mangled, it made me angry at myself. I'd been the cause of that. If I hadn't run offstage like a crybaby-coward than he wouldn't have followed; we wouldn't have fought, and Red wouldn't have fallen down that hill. What's more was that I endangered Sasha. I knew that that monster--Corbin apparently--was out lurking and waiting for an opportunity to strike. And I gave him that opportunity. It was my fault. Like Red and me, he could have gotten severely hurt again. If he had I never would have been able to forgive myself. Well, I wasn't forgiving myself about Red either-- I couldn't.

I just couldn't do it anymore.

Nothing within gazing distance drew me to it, so I just headed off into the throng hoping I would come across something.

As I went the sound of flapping cloth from the tents and from flags jutting up here and there began to increase. The wind was picking up. For a dry December day it was relatively nice out; even I had to admit that. The sun was bright; the sky was cloudless and blue. Still, the air cut you to the quick. Inside our tent it had been relatively comfortable--hot even given that Uncle's forge was heavily stoked--but outside I grew to feel exposed. I wished I'd brought a heavy cloak or something. I had a jacket, but I didn't want to break clothing protocol. Attire from the age we're representing is all we're supposed to have on; that's the unspoken rule. Well, it's unspoken until other reenactors start to heckle you about it. "Whot's that metal contraption on your breeches, my man? A whot? Zip-pah? Whot's a zip-pah? You some kinda mad fur with your zip-pah undone?" It's annoying as hell sometimes, but what can you do. I'm just as passionate about it as they are, obviously. That jacket would have been nice, though.

Regardless, my costume was getting envious eyes. Or I hoped it was my costume. It's surprising how many female enthusiasts there are when it comes to reenacting, and a gaggle of them--pretty, too; around my age-- had just caught sight of me as I passed by a merchant selling handmade jewelry from an enormous blanket spread out on the ground. They were various species, all thin-framed with tiny waists and elegant limbs hidden beneath the draping fabric of their Chemise gowns. As much as I admired their richly colored attire, I knew that they weren't admiring mine. Well, they were, but--more so--they liked what was in it.

One of them I'd seen before. She was a posh little Tigress from my school, and she nodded toward me and whispered in one of the other girl's ears. That girl smiled devilishly and watched me approach.

It was rare to find an attractive male in this kind of environment; I knew that. Watching for a Knight of my own used to be fun little game I'd play while walking around, but unkempt barbarians and portly mercenaries outnumbered stunning men in armor 100 to 1. The girls were all too aware of that fact and--not to sound narcissistic--but I'd been told how cute I was time and time again. They saw a prize of me, and--suddenly--I was very much sought after.

They eyed me hungrily as I passed awkwardly by. I waved out of pure politeness. One of them bit down on their lip and growled. After that, and with a fearful squeak, I began walking with utmost haste. I left the merchant tents altogether and waded into the crowd lolling about in the square where the food stalls were set up. I thought I'd be in the clear. Surely to God they wouldn't be so bold as to -

Nope. They were following.

"Shit," I spat.

Now what? I couldn't run away; not without crying from the pain my arm would give me.

While thinking about what to do I picked up my pace, but they continued to gain on me. They moved in mass--a chattering, lacy, fast-footed flock. The ribbons in their hair whipped about in the cold, their breaths fogging the air, and I couldn't help but think that--to a straight guy--this would be a dream come true. To me it was a nightmare. I sped up even more and didn't look back. I couldn't let them catch me. I couldn't handle skirting around the fact that I was gay with them. Flat out tell them? Not an option. The Tigress went to my school after all, and I'd already spent so much time avoiding that fur yanking question: "Are you gay? That fox, Sasha, he is; Rudy Kendrick, too. You must be, right? That's why the football coach came after you?"

I never answered anyone who asked me that. I'd just shake my head out of scorn and walk away. I don't know what idea that gave them, but soon furs stopped badgering me. Though, I guess since she was hot on my heels the Tigress thought that I'd return her affection. Fantastic. At least that means I wasn't in danger of my parents discovering the truth. They were a nightmare after everything happened and I got to go home, but that's something I really don't feel like talking about.

I rounded a huge oak tree in the middle of the square and then took off down the Lane of Arcane. The tents here were a rich, abysmal purple, and all of them had their flaps drawn and closed. No, all but one.

I could practically hear the girl's thighs rubbing together as they hurried closer and closer, so I did the only thing I could think of: I rushed inside the open tent, drew the flap, and shrouded myself in darkness. My breaths came heavier than I would've thought. My broken arm limited my physical performance, so I hadn't really been able to exercise. I guess I was getting a bit soft. I just stood rigid and still with nothing but a thin sheet of cloth between me and my pursuers, and soon I heard them glide to a stop outside. They paced around, whispered, sighed, and then--to my relief--they left.

"Oh, thank God," was all I could manage as I did my best to relax. Then I jerked around, my arm bursting in agony from the movement, as a candle flame popped into existence and with it a black, hooded figure sitting at a small, ornate iron table.

I had a miniature heart attack at the sight of them. Corbin with his hood drawn over his face, shrouded in black, immediately came to mind and made my fur stand on end. I just stood there without breathing, without moving at all.

"I see," the figure said dreamily. The tone of their words seemed to tickle across my skin, soothing my fright like a mint balm.

"I know."

That voice.

"I know all."

It couldn't be.

I just stared at the fortune teller as though looking at a ghost. With precise, fluid motions they lifted up their hands. The heavy sleeves of their robe fell backward as they reached for their hood, revealing forearms of white fur that glowed paler in the candlelight. They clasped their baggy cowl and pulled it back; a shiny, black, button nose appeared on a short, tapering muzzle-- white just like their arms.

"I know..."

I gulped down the lump that had risen in my throat. My eyes widened.

"I know that you did NOT just come into my booth unannounced without a good reason, you knave!"

I nearly collapsed, staggering backward in surprise. I hadn't seen that coming.

The ermine stared icily at me with one of her eyebrows cocked. The fine points of her canines protruded over her bottom lip, glinting like sheathed daggers as she scowled. Ebony hair shone atop her head and down her neck.

She bobbed forward sharply. Her voice had been so soothing; now it was like glass scratching glass. "Well?"

"Uh...err...um..."

Her sparkling blue, orb-like eyes rolled heavily as she crossed her arms. "Oh, bloody hell. A troll has wandered into my midst." She leaned forward a bit until her nose was nearly stuck into the flame of her candle, watching me. "Please tell me Guttural is not your only language?"

I shook my head. "No--no, I'm sorry. I was just..." I stopped. How was I going to explain myself exactly? Besides that, why was I so damn flustered? She just sat there with eyes piercing me while she waited. I didn't want to embarrass myself even more, and so I just stood and peered back. Then I saw the smile on her face.

Psssshhh, she spat, grinning wider afterward. "I don't care what you were doing. I was just having a go at you." Her shoulders bounced beneath her robe as she leaned back and chuckled; her little ears fluttered like butterfly wings. "Lighten up, Sir-stick-in-the-mud."

If only she'd known. Still, I tried.

"Again," I said. "I'm sorry. I was hiding. I was kind of desperate. I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

"Oh, you're fine," she said cheerily. She propped her elbows on her table and rested her head in her paws. Her hair was longer than I thought, and it cascaded forward from her hood like streams of oil and framed her face. And what a face it was. She reminded me so much of Sasha it wasn't funny. A smile wriggled coyly across her muzzle as she surveyed me. "And who were you hiding from?"

"Uh," I stuttered. I felt myself blush. My tail wagged out of pure confusion. "Some...some girls. They were...uh..."

She squinted her eyes and I jumped as she interrupted me. "Come into the light; I can't really see you that well. I mean, you have a nice voice and all, but I'd like to put a face to it. Name too if you would be so kind."

God was she direct.

"My name's Lee," I said as I stepped forward into the golden aura of her candle. She glanced quickly over me, but--unlike the other girls--she didn't seem impressed. Turns out she just had one hell of a poker face.

"My, my," she said. "You're beautiful."

My face burned hotter. Like I said, I'd been called cute countless times. Beautiful, though? That was a first. However, I think I preferred it more.

"Th...thanks?"

"No problem," she chirped. Then she blew out her candle and everything was instantly submerged in darkness. I couldn't see a hand two centimeters in front of my face.

I gasped as something brushed past me, and then her voice was at my back.

"I'm Kelly by the way," she said. Then light burst in blindingly as she drew open the tent flap. "Come on," she beckoned. I covered my eyes with the paw of my good arm and followed.

Outside I blinked the spots from my eyes and turned to get a better look at my new acquaintance. It was difficult to get a good sense of her. The heavy robe she had on swallowed her whole and fell to the ground at her feet. She was about five inches shorter than me though, and from the thinness of her neck I could tell she must have been delicate; I recalled how dainty her forearms were as well.

"So," she chimed, swaying there.

"Yes?"

A grin spread wide across her muzzle. "You owe me."

Sparks bloomed in the pit of my stomach. Nervousness I bet. "Uh, alright; I do in a sense. What do you..."

"Let's get something to eat. You're treat," she said. "Fair enough?"

Oh crap. This was what I'd been running from wasn't it? I was beginning to think I'd escaped the tiger only to wander into the den of a lion--so to speak. Still, there was something about her that I couldn't pin down. It was--she was--unorthodox to say the least, but I was fascinated. She reminded me of Sasha, there was no doubt, but -

"Helloooooo?" she sang leaning over and looking up into my face. "You still with me?"

I shook my head. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Well?"

"Uh."

"Goodness, your indecisive," she chuckled. "Think about it and I'll be right back."

Then she winked at me and breezed through the tent flap to disappear inside.

I just stared blankly at the purple cloth swaying in her wake, blinking occasionally. Then my thoughts went mad.

What the hell is wrong with me? What is this? Why do I feel this way? Who is this chick?

A feeling--a sickeningly familiar feeling--writhed in the pit of my stomach. It crept through my middle and into my chest, and my heart began beating a rhythm that a six legged giraffe couldn't dance to.

Was I...did I like this girl? A girl!? What the hell was going on! I turned my back on the tent and clutched at my chest. This doesn't make sense, I thought. Sasha--I'd never had feelings for anyone other than him. I never thought I'd be able to. Now, out of nowhere, I get attracted to someone else, and it's to a girl!

"Alright, studly," Kelly said as she emerged from the tent behind me. "You made up your mind?"

I couldn't do this. I felt like I was betraying my one true love by having these feelings. I felt like I was betraying myself, like the world was playing a cruel, sick joke on me to watch me writhe.

"Kelly," I said in turning. "I can..."

Oh my God. Oh my God.

"You can...what?"

My fur, my skin, my everything began to tingle. I'd say it was from relief, but I think it was out of shock as well.

She'd shed her gaudy cloak, and her body--which I hadn't seen--was more or less what I'd imagined it to be: Lithe, curvy. However, she was well toned and athletically built too. She wasn't in a dress like the other girls, but had on a loose fitting yellow blouse beneath a tight, black bodice fastened together with chord. It accentuated her hourglass shape and flowed down to a pair of tan breeches that sat high on her hips, the legs of which were tucked into a pair of knee boots with a sufficient amount of heel. She'd pulled back her black hair and pinned it up with a golden cuff and pin, unrolled her sleeves to the middle of her forearm, and had a more agreeable cloak tucked under her arm.

She, her--I say it to define Kelly but I can't make myself agree to it. In all ways Kelly was feminine; Kelly exuded femininity, but Kelly had no breasts. She wasn't flat chested either; it was rather toned. There had just never been female glands there. Ever.

"You...you're a..." I stuttered.

Her lips pressed flat for a moment while she watched me carefully, and then she grinned. "A guy?"

I nodded, speechless. If she'd--he'd--left that cloak on I never would have known. It was both amazing and dumbfounding.

"Only in body, and even then--I mean..." She sashayed about, flicking her hips; she was elegance personified. He was. She grinned back at me so captivated. "Even that's a stretch."

"So you're..."

"Transgender? Yessir," she said confidently. Then she peered sharply at me. "That a problem?"

I shook my head furiously. I didn't even flinch to the pain that flared in my arm. "No! Of course it isn't!"

She continued to glare at me suspiciously as if rating my honesty, but then she smiled. "Relax. I knew it wouldn't be. Thanks for being honest, though."

My ears bobbed curiously. "You knew?"

"Honey," she sighed. "Gaydar may be some made-up, delusionary concept, but..." She winked at me. I blushed. "I could tell. I know how to get past that stony defense of yours. After all..." She daintily pressed her forefingers to her temple, closed her eyes, and spoke dreamily again. "I know all. I see all." I laughed. She grinned and winked at me again. "So, you still buying, Sir Studly? Or have I frightened you away?"

"Well," I said sheepishly. "Do you...do you want me to refer to you as...uh...as..."

She giggled. "I'd prefer feminine pronouns when describing me if that's alright."

"Y...yeah," I stammered. "Okay. Good. I mean..."

Damn was I flustered. My face was aflame. I just knew I was making a fool of myself.

"Am I going to have to keep repeating 'calm down, relax' over and over again?" she asked.

"No," I said, taking her advice.

No. I was just confused by this that was all. I'd never been so thrown off by someone. Well, Sasha did that to me in a sense, but he didn't like being mistaken for a girl. Kelly wanted to be mistaken for a girl, and that wasn't a difficult thing to do. This was a whole new area for me. It was a little liberating to be honest.

"Good," she said. Then she began to take my right arm, noticed the brace on it, and took the left instead. I didn't try and stop her. I didn't want to. I was surprised by that. "What happened?" she asked, glancing back at the brace as she tugged me along.

"Long story," I said.

"Oh? I love long stories. I have a few of my own."

"No doubt."

"Wanna swap'em? Get to know one another a little more?"

I looked over at her smiling earnestly up at me. She tightened her grip on my arm.

"Sure," I said.