Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 03 (Patreon)

The table of predators in the far corner erupted in cheers, and Marlot glanced in their direction. The brown bear who worked for L’nard brought a tray with drinks to them. It made the Watering Hole louder than the last time he’d been here, but it didn’t detract from the bar’s atmosphere.

“This would be more enjoyable with Trem,” he grumbled, returning to his drink and downing what was left of it. He winced as the motion stretched his injured side. He missed the days when he could shrug off any injuries he got during a chase. Now he’d have to go without for a few days while he healed. He motioned to the lion behind the bar with his empty glass.

L’nard placed a filled glass before him. “I take it you haven’t managed to talk with Trembor.” He picked up the empty one.

“What makes you think that?” Marlot replied, looking at his new drink dejectedly.

“You’ve never ordered a third heater before.” He rinsed the glass and added it to a tray of more that needed washing.

“Have you seen him?”

“He hasn’t been by since the last time you two were here.”

“How about family functions?” he asked hopefully, “You’re all pretty tight, right?”

L’nard chuckled. “We’re close to our immediate family, but there’s so many of it’s close to impossible for all the branches to be close the last time all of us were together I was…” he trailed off as he looked into the distance. “Five, I think.”

Marlot nodded, wonder what that would be like, so many family members together. He sipped his drink. It had always only been him, his sister and parents, back home. With the rare visit from his mother’s father, and he recalled one of his father’s siblings visiting once. Trembor’s family dinners were terrifying, but also filled with love and—drank half his glass.

“Don’t drink do fast,” L’nard said, placing a bowl of nuts before the wolf and then moving on to another customer.

He eyes the nuts disdainfully, then grabbed a handful. He didn’t like them, too close to the green stuff for his liking, but nuts were protein, and he barely ate today. He was doing his best to stretch what was left in his cooler until he was healed. Right now, eating less still felt more attractive than the alternative. If he spent his food budget on prepared meals, it’d go broke quickly, and the artificial meat was… He shuddered as he contemplated having to eat that.

“You,” someone said, taking the seat next to him, “look like you’ve had a bad day.”

Marlot eyed the nervous-looking hare in a suit, who swallowed nervously under the stare.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. You just look like someone who can use the company.”

“I’m mated,” he replied and winced internally. He had the contract, but what was that worth when the other party walked out on you barely days after it was signed. Trembor had wanted it too, he’d wanted Marlot to acknowledge their relationships for years, so why had he just walked out like that?

“Oh, no-no, not like that.” The hare laughed nervously. “I just meant you looked like you could use someone to talk with. I know I’m just prey but—”

“You’re not just prey,” Marlot cut him off, annoyed at someone defining themselves by something so basic. “You’re someone who happens to be prey.” He looked the male over, part of him realizing that yes, he was prey, so maybe he could lure him home and have a meal after all? The suit was practical, well made, tailored, so not cheap. His gray fur was vibrant and shiny, his node pad glistening; so healthy. His claws short, but trimmed. A professional job, Marlot guessed. This male wasn’t used to manual labor. “You can relax. You’re definitely outside what I can afford.” He offered a hand. “Marlot Blackclaw.”

“Al,” the hare answered, shaking it. “It’s a shortening of it.” He added at Marlot’s tilted ear. “It’s foreign, and it gets tedious having to explain it all the time.”

“More than this?” Marlot asked, trying to get more. His program needed at least a full name to have a chance.

“Good point, but this usually satisfies the other person. And it’s kind of you to say I’m safe,” he continued, dashing any chance Marlot at getting more of his name, “but being careful is how I’ve stayed alive this long.” L’nard stepped before them. “Whatever’s on tap, thank you. So, bad day?”

Marlot shrugged and winced.

“Ah, I see.” The hare paid for the glass with the foamy liquid the lion delivered. He sipped it and made a face. “Failed hunt?”

“You have an eye for it?”

“Survival instinct.” The hare smiled. “In the right context, an injured predator is safer to be around, but the smart ones know that and learn to fake it. Being able to tell the difference is key. You also don’t look famished, so you haven’t reached the point where you’ll go after the first nervous hare that runs from you, especially if you’re outside your usual hunting grounds.”

Marlot was impressed at the reasoning, not many prey thought about it that much, even those who survived to an older age. “I miscalculated; my meal had buddies waiting for me, and I wasn’t paying attention. They made me pay for picking him.” He stretched his arm, enduring the pain. “Just bruises and small cuts.”

“Will you be making them pay once you’re healed?”

Marlot stared at the hare. “Is that how you think we work? That we hold grudges?”

The hare gave a nonchalant shrug and took another sip of his drink, making another face.

Marlot shook his head. “Letting the fact some prey bested me get personal is the quickest way to ensure I’ll go hungry. I lost his one. There’re others out there. I’ll do better research next time.”

“Don’t you hunt with your mate?”

That hurt. He’d looked forward to that first hunt as a pair. His planning, his lion’s instincts. He took a sip from his drink, having the liquid burn away the lump in his throat. “We’re taking some time apart.” Did that sound as lame to the hare as it did to him?

“Oh.” The hare looked shocked but quickly recovered. “I didn’t think predators had those kinds of problems.” He sounded like he had no idea what to say.

Marlot’s snort was angry. “Everyone does.” But he’d never imagined he’d be one of those ‘everyone.’

What had led Trembor to walk away? They’d been talking. The lion had been unreasonable in his demand they involve the enforcers after he’d promised his source immunity for the evidence he’d provided. He’d locked Trembor out of his pad so they could talk; so Marlot could explain his reasoning and get his lion to see he was right. Instead, Trembor had exploded and left without listening to one thing Marlot said.

“I suppose that’s true,” the hare said, “I never had a family; being prey, I felt it was unfair to make someone suffer if I got eaten. Then I was too busy to work to think that.”

“There’s still time,” Marlot said. “From what I see, you’re successful, that puts you in a safer position than the most prey. GO find yourself a pretty female, have cubs, make a large family.” He trailed off, remembered Trembor’s siblings’ cubs mobbing him how afraid he’d been, but afterward how fondly he’d looked back on the incident, how he’d looked forward to the next time.

The hare shook his head sadly. “It’s too late for me. All I have is my work. I don’t even remember what it’s like to spend time with someone for more than a night’s relief.”

“It’s never too late to relearn.” Marlot wondered what led someone to prioritize their work so much they lost all other interactions. It distracted him from his own problem. What kind of male lived for work, what kind of prey. Wasn’t their need to have children something of a genetic imperative?

“Maybe for others.” He looked at his barely touched glass, made a face, and took another sip.

What led this male to sit here, force himself to drink something he didn’t like. Was he so desperate for the company? He had seemed confident enough, still did. But that could be an act, Marlot thought. Social camouflage was a thing. Every assumption Marlot had made about this male’s value was based on how he looked and smelled. Someone could spend their meager funds looking that way, instead of working at achieving it. It was why he relied on his program. It could see through the camouflage he couldn’t. Should he follow that instinct this time? The male was here, and while the Watering Hole didn’t allow predation, the moment he stepped outside he was fair game.

“You look like you’ve just put me back on your menu,” the hare said, smiling nervously.

Marlot shook himself. He was letting the hunger do the thinking for him. L’nard’s bar was in a good neighborhood. His customers were comfortable, which meant productive, so more expensive. He couldn’t afford to risk having to pay a tax outside his budget. It wasn’t like the hare looked to have a lot of meat on his bones.

“What cause you and you mate to separate?” the hare asked, and Marlot narrowed his eyes. On the other hand— “sorry, I guess that was too personal.”

“Somewhat, yes.”

The forced smile was nervous. “I did say I wasn’t very good at these kinds of things.” He stood. “I should get going, work and all that. I do hope you and your mate get back together it’s… well, I really hope you do.” He hurriedly left, looking preoccupied.

Marlot glanced at the clock. Who worked this late? Maybe it was a prey thing, maintaining a high tax could mean the difference between life and death for them in a way predators didn’t have to think about too much. Again he considered the hare as a meal, watching him exit the building, walk outside the protection L’nard enforced.

Not enough meat for the risk, he reminded himself. And with his injuries, he wouldn’t be able to run after the hare. In a few days, he’d have more people in his program and better prospect. He’d also know better than to let Trembor distract him.

Trembor was the one who’d walked out, walked away, so he shouldn’t let the lion bother him. He should go out, find himself some male, and get his lion out of his system that way. He looked around the room; it registered that two of the regulars were missing tonight, the wolf and coyote. They were friends of L’nard, he gathered. Maybe their absence was a sign he and Trembor weren’t meant to be.

From what he could see, the two weren’t the only lovers not in attendance. The bar seemed to be filled with singles and groups of friends, rather than couples enjoying each other’s company. That was too depressing to think about.

He picked up his glass, noticed it was empty, and motioned L’nard for a refill.

The lion took the glass without putting one down for a replacement. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“It’s only my third,” Marlot protested.

“And you’re a two-drink male. Going for a fourth while depressed worries me you’re on a slide I don’t want to enable.”

“I can go drink elsewhere,” Marlot threatened.

“You can,” the lion answered calmly. “There are plenty of bars out there who don’t care enough about you to keep you from making a mistake. That’s not me. I like you Marlot and I’ve seen too many people drink themselves into stupidity and then death. I’d like to make sure you stick around long enough you and Trembor work things out.”

“You think there’s hope for us?”

L’nard chuckled. “I’m proof there’s hope for everyone. So yeah, I think there is. You two just need to talk, work it out.”

“He won’t talk to me,” Marlot snapped. “He blocked me across the board. I don’t even know what I did. He just walked out while I was trying to explain he was being unreasonable.”

L’nard looked at him. “Then give him more time to cool down, and that means you need to not drink yourself into stupidity so you’ll still be around when he does.”

“Where’s your female?” he asked to change the subject. He didn’t like the lion when he was so damned reasonable.

“Tiff’s traveling.” He smiled wistfully. “She’d promoting her latest movie. Drezz’s off with her.”

That explained why the wolf wasn’t here, and the coyote was probably off with him, staying by his lover.

Lucky them.

“How do you do it? Let her go like that? I can’t stand that Trem isn’t with me.”

The lion looked pensive, and when he spoke Marlot had the sense he’d changed his mind on what he’d say. “I spent years pining after her, and it was years after I got over that, that she picked me, so I know she’ll come back. Until then, we talk every night.”

“I wish I could do that.”

“Then do it.”

Marlot glared at the lion. “He blocked me.”

L’nard let out a breath. “You have a recording app on your pad, right? So talk to him through it. You can save it so once you two are talking about you can send it to him if it’s still relevant, but even if you don’t, it won’t be stuck inside you, festering.”

Marlot nodded slowly. It did make sense, even if he didn’t think it would help.

“Good. I’ve now done my bartender duties and dispensed sage advice. I have to move on to the other customers before one of them decides to start a riot. I can’t enforce the ‘no predation’ rule if I’m the first one they eat. Just go home, Marlot. You have to live your life regardless of what happened.”

“Thanks. “He stood. “But to be clear, I am still pissed that you’re cutting me off at three drinks.”

“You are welcome.” L’nard grabbed a bottle and a glass and moved to a weasel who looked like he belonged on a stage. At least when L’nard’s tigress was in the bar, she looked like the rest of them.

Outside, the cold wind chased some of the alcohol’s fog out of his mind. In the car, he started it for heat and waited. He couldn’t drive off like this, he had to let some alcohol burn out. He should go back inside where it was already warm.

He took his pad and scrolled through the apps until he found the recording one. He started it.

“Trem.” He stopped, unsure of what to say. Feeling silly for talking to a recorder. “I thought you loved me.” He stopped again, watched as the seconds of the recording turned into a full minute. He should shut it down. “Why? Damn it, how can you just walk away like that? How can you be so unreasonable that you won’t even let me explain how you were wrong? The world’s not fucking dry or wet. It’s not that clear cut. Sometimes it’s just humid and it sucks, and you have to make deals with people you’d rather not so justice will be served.” And the law could be damned, he didn’t add.

That would make things worse. Trembor had been an enforcer; the law meant everything to him. If only he could see there were times when the law just got in the way of justice.

“I just need to know why Trem. If that one act of not following the law was enough to break us up, I need to know why you kept me around for almost four years. You can’t say you were surprised. You’ve seen me work before, I’ve broken the law before, so why did your claws break on this one? Tell me that, Trem, and I’ll be able to move on. I’ll be able to pick up the pieces you’ve made of my life and make something out of them. At least tell me that, Trem. Please.”

He shut the recorder off and wiped away the tears.

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