“If I leave you loose, how am I supposed to know what you’ll get up to. Stay tied until we reach the village.”
“Squeak?”
So that’s what it was?
You’re taking me there yourself? You wanted us connected because you were worried? If that was the case, then well….
The otter quietly held out one front paw toward Rutilian. But no such luck. Rutilian let out a hollow, incredulous laugh and bypassed the tiny outstretched paw entirely, fastening a leash around the otter’s neck in one swift motion.
“Squeeeak!”
Burning with betrayal, the otter stomped both hind feet against the floor in protest — but Rutilian paid him no mind and stood up. The only one watching the whole scene play out was Pumice, sitting on his bed across the room, stifling laughter.
The cord hung long between them — one end at Rutilian’s wrist, the other at the otter’s neck. With no other choice, the otter fell into step behind Rutilian, leash and all.
“Squeak, squeak.”
This is the greatest humiliation of my entire life.
Trotting along to match Rutilian’s pace, the otter soon found himself surrounded by horses of various colors and Knights with swords at their hips. He was craning his neck looking for any Knights in shifted form when his body was suddenly lifted into the air.
“Eek — eek?!”
“If you fall off at this speed, you die on impact. So sit still if you don’t want to die.”
Rutilian settled the otter onto the front of the saddle, swung himself up onto the horse in one motion, and delivered that bone-chilling warning.
“Squeak!”
“Sit still. Otherwise you’ll be hanging off the side.”
“…?”
Hanging where exactly. Am I thinking what I think I’m thinking?
“I heard something squeaking like a chick earlier — you’re bringing that along too?”
“Drop it off at Roen Village on the way.”
“Why? I’ve been enjoying watching you two lately — why not just keep it?”
The otter had been gripping the saddle tightly when the voice of an unfamiliar man approached, words accompanied by the clatter of hooves. He turned his head toward the sound.
“Squeak?”
His eyes landed on the orange tail visible below the man’s back — and he quietly closed his mouth. From above, from the side, there was no mistaking it: that was a tiger’s tail. A tiger Therianthrope. The very species he’d wished he could have transmigrated into.
“…Squeak….”
Caught off guard, the otter spooked slightly and tried to burrow into Rutilian’s chest — only to be stopped immediately. Rutilian grabbed him by the scruff and set him back in the front of the saddle. The otter looked up at him reproachfully, but Rutilian didn’t even glance his way.
“Seems I startled it. My apologies.”
“Go get ready for departure.”
“Squeak….”
Yeah. Go away….
After the tiger Therianthrope moved to the head of the column, Rutilian took his place at the very back.
“Eek — squeak…!”
Before he could even think another thought, the horses up ahead kicked up clouds of dust and surged forward all at once. The horse beneath the otter did the same. The moment it broke into a gallop, the otter’s body was thrown side to side.
“Hold the saddle. You want to fall off?”
Rutilian caught the otter by the back before he could go flying and planted him back in the saddle, reprimanding him with an exasperated look.
“Squeeeak!”
Of course I don’t…!
The otter clamped his front paws around the saddle and held on for dear life. In an instant the horse cleared the castle gate, blazed through the city, and shot past the outer wall. The speed was such that even with both paws locked on the saddle, the otter kept bouncing.
“Eek! Squeak!”
Your horse is way too intense! Tell it to slow down!
His body kept launching into the air and smacking back against the hard leather saddle. At this rate he’d be carted off on a stretcher by the time they arrived. He desperately wanted to look back at Rutilian, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Squeak…?”
Just then, that aching, rattling body was abruptly scooped up — and landed squarely in a solid, warm embrace. Rutilian’s arms. The sudden consideration left him blinking, stunned, and then Rutilian spoke.
“Hold on tight. I don’t have a hand free to steady you.”
The front paws that had been gripping the hard saddle migrated to Rutilian’s shirt instead. The otter immediately clutched the fabric tight and buried his face in his chest.
The Knight Order had set out in the morning, easing up on the horses’ pace periodically to manage their stamina — but never stopping to rest. Around the time the sun began to set, the horses pulled to a halt in front of a familiar-looking inn, sides heaving as they caught their breath. The otter loosened his grip on Rutilian’s shirt, readying himself to dismount — but Rutilian didn’t get off the horse. He glanced toward something, gave a slight nod of his head, and spurred the horse forward again.
“Squeak?”
With the horse moving again, there was nothing to do but burrow back into Rutilian’s chest. Where are we going? The otter fixed him with a persistent, questioning stare — and Rutilian tilted his head slightly to meet his eyes.
“I’m taking you to the village first.”
“Squeak….”
A look of helpless dismay crossed the otter’s face. Rutilian’s horse ran on tirelessly, eyes fixed straight ahead. At this rate, they’d part ways without him having accomplished a single thing. Time was running out.
If it weren’t for what Pumice had said that morning, he might have been unhappy, but he would have accepted reality. But hearing that Rutilian was about to leave the Knight Order soon and set off on his own — that made it impossible.
If they parted ways like this, it was a death sentence. There was no way to live comfortably in a world headed toward ruin. So what now? At this speed, they’d reach the village by late in the night. Was there any way to stop the horse — and Rutilian? Regrettably, only one option came to mind. And this was something he would have done even if he were still human.
The otter swallowed hard and glanced down. The powerful, muscled legs of the galloping horse came into view below. He fidgeted with the cord around his neck. It had been tied a little loosely. The cord connecting Rutilian’s wrist to his neck — it could be his salvation or his doom.
To think it would come to this.
It was time for a life-or-death bungee jump.
The otter drew a deep breath and flung himself out of Rutilian’s arms and into open air in one smooth motion. He didn’t let himself hesitate — hesitation would only mean landing harder.
“Squeak!”
The cord snapped taut around his throat and the pain was so sharp his eyes nearly burst from his skull.
The sudden, reckless movement made Rutilian yank hard on the reins. The horse reared up on its hind legs in resistance. Faced with an unavoidable fall, Rutilian snatched the otter out of the air one-handed and landed cleanly on the ground.
“You—!”
His heart was slamming against his ribs. Rutilian’s hands moved quickly, urgently working to loosen the cord from around the otter’s neck. When the otter cracked his eyes open with a faint whimper, Rutilian exhaled with relief and checked him over, running his hands across his body.
“Squeak…. Squeak….”
“Are you out of your mind? What the hell was that!”
The furious shout cut through the haze clouding his head like a splash of cold water. He wasn’t sure why, but today of all days Rutilian’s eyes looked like they were burning — red as flames.
“Squeak….”
The whimpering continued, and Rutilian’s warm hand moved over and over across the otter’s throat in long, soothing strokes. At that gentle touch, the otter began whimpering in a way that was less pain and more something like a sulk.
“Haah….”
Rutilian pulled the water canteen from his hip and held it lightly to the otter’s muzzle, tilting it so the water trickled in. Watching the otter sip it down in small gulps, Rutilian let out a long breath of relief — then looked at the otter with a deep furrow between his brows.
Drinking the water brought him fully back to himself. It was a tremendous stroke of luck that Rutilian hadn’t tied the leash too tight. And it was an equal stroke of luck that Rutilian had snatched him out of the air mere seconds after he’d jumped.
“What are you, seriously. Whether you’re a wild animal or a Therianthrope — there’s nobody as reckless as you!”
“Squeak…. Squeak….”
Now that his breathing had settled too, he had to face the torrent of sharp questions raining down on him.
“Squeak.”
I’m sorry.
The otter carefully took Rutilian’s hand with both front paws. He hadn’t expected Rutilian to get this angry. Seeing how shaken he looked, the otter felt too guilty to even meet his eyes properly. Because — selfishly — he was relieved. He’d actually succeeded in stopping both Rutilian and the horse.
But then he looked around, and something felt off.
“Squeak…?”
Where did the… horse go?
“Squeeeak?!”
“What?”
Still cradled in Rutilian’s hands, the otter began flailing, whipping his head back and forth to scan the surroundings. Rutilian, reassured by the otter’s neck turning just fine, looked around as well, his expression calm.
“Squeak! Squeeeak!”
It’s gone! The horse is gone!
But unlike the otter, who looked utterly alarmed, Rutilian appeared entirely unperturbed.
