71 BONE AND GLASS

"You do know goblins were created by demons, right? They're basically little ugly weredemons." Ursula said as they walked towards SkyHaven's entrance gates under fresh sunlight.

"One demon created a curse that made goblins. They're afflicted. They're as much weredemons as I was when I was given Darkblood's Kiss from that snake."

Ursula raised an eyebrow, "That's a radical thought."

"I know— I'm getting freaked out by my own thought process to be honest. But….. I don't know anymore. I'm adjusting."

They made it to the entrance gates, waiting patiently behind a slowly growing line of merchants, heroes and leather traders.

Ursula leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Well, I suggest you start figuring it out in silence until we're outside the city walls again. If one of these yuppies hears you, we won't be running because of dark-gods. It'll be because of you."

"Right."

They cut through SkyHaven in silence, watching the city go from newly made apartments built over storefronts surrounded by workers and street performers to dry stone roads filled with wild-eyed veterans and beggars. The Bonehelm Boneyard Kennel was lodged right in the middle of the impoverished industrial back-end of eastern SkyHaven.

"This is where you work?" Ursula asked as they faced the building. Unlike the factories it was made of wood and stone with terribly juvenile signage.

"Don't judge a book by its cover." Claude replied.

"Everyone judges books by their covers." Ursula replied. "My initial judgement was that it's cute….. and smells exactly how I thought a kennel would."

Claude took in the scents of dog fur, natural soaps, dried meat and urine. Immediately he felt himself begin to relax. Even with his world view flipped on its head— again, he knew one thing for sure.

Dogs.

"Let's go." He headed inside, no longer limping.

Ilka perked up as he walked through the door,

"Mr. Grey— oh, hi Claude!"

"Hey. My dad's home sick. I'll cover for him today."

Ilka began filling out the attendance sheet, "And who will cover for you, Claude?" She asked without looking up.

"Me." Ursula stepped inside the all too small front office. She looked infintely bigger in the cramped space even in just a sweater and jeans.

"H-h-hi….. d-do I k-know you?" Ilka blushed and avoided eye contact.

Ursula smiled knowingly, causing her freckles to dance on her cheeks, "He knows, sister."

Claude nodded and yawned. At the same time, Marvin the front desk cat hopped up with a warning bark. Claude waved. The cat waved back.

Ilka's face turned even more red— making her ocean blue eyes standout like never before.

"It's not a big deal— if you don't mark us as late." Claude said.

Ilka nodded solemnly and began adjusting their times. "I've become a criminal at such a young age…"

As Claude and Ursula pushed through the side door to get into the kennel clearing grounds, Ilka called out, "Oh, Claude, heads up! Martha is in a sour mood."

"How sour?" Claude asked with a hand on the door.

"Like those candies we give to owners who don't exercise their dogs enough."

Claude cringed.

"What? That bad?" Ursula asked as they entered.

"Yea. Martha's never sour…. At least not at work. The dogs are her medicine. For some reason today it's not working. I don't like that."

The door to the front office closed behind them. A small walkway between rooms welcomed them. To the left another door loomed, Claude opened it to reveal a closet full of visibly used items. Padded gear, arm guards with nasty bite marks, thwacking sticks, musical instruments and belts with bags attached to them.

"Ok, here's your charmers flute. You'll also need some wrist guards and a treat belt." Claude said and began handing Ursula the items in reverse order.

"So that's what you carry in your left boot." Ursula said as she was handed the wooden flute with holes going from small to massive.

"Yep. They work pretty simple. Big holes make a big clear sound. That's for lulling. The smallest hole creates a sound me and you can't even hear— it hurts the dogs so only use it for emergencies. That's for alerting."

Ursula nodded. "Got it."

Claude led her down the hall and through the door and the world of canine rearing and rehabilitation welcomed them. It was still relatively early so only the young were outside. They came trotting over as Claude and Ursula entered.

Claude turned to Ursula with intense eyes, "Don't panic or change anything you're doing. But, keep your hands unfisted and don't stop directly in front of the elf-hound."

"The what?" Ursula tried to keep even spirits as the bizzare and unique array of scarred dogs approached from across the open area.

Claude pointed to the leftmost dog. It resembled an old-world greyhound— the racing dogs. Only it had a head more like a Doberman in terms of snout density and pure white eyes with tiny glowing blue blood vessels and a sort of goatee made of finer hairs. It also had two very long tails.

"I've never heard of an elf-hound." Ursula said.

"They're a pretty new breed. Only fifteen years old. Unethically made by scientists and alchemists on Raider and Tangent Thief payroll. The only problem is because they're knew, their behavior is unpredictable— and people are dumb as dirt." Claude made a grunting sound, "I mean damn, you genetically enhance collagen production and sensory portions of the dogs brain in embryo, then act surprised when the sensory type dog is thrown off by the hormone fluctuation and body temperature of a human in its path. This dog was bred to spot and hunt elves— and they act surprised that it finds humans uncomfortably visible."

"Ridiculous." Ursula said.

The dogs surrounded them with wet nosed sniffles. The elf-hound stayed back and off to the side, but her tails wagged all the same.

"Sit."

They all sat.

"The elf-hound is Lixir."

Ursula nodded and waved.

"The Sunlandian Shepherd is Sol." Claude pointed to the dog seated in front of them.

She'd seen many Sun Shepherd's. Made for herding Auroch's and guarding homes. The dog was huge— like a mastiff with floopy ears and an overdeveloped upper-back where it could store extra water and glucose in its muscles. It made the dog capable of supernatural strength and stamina feats after quality meals. The dog was tawny colored with a black snout and paws and one of his ears was torn three different ways.

"Hey, buddy." Ursula reached out and scratched behind his floppy ears that hung below his snout.

"Next up, we've got Rocko." Claude said.

The mastiff-primal hybrid barked and jumped up to lick Claude's face as Ursula took a half step closer to Claude.

"Rocko? As in the one who almost took your arm off?"

The dogs tail wagged as if they were talking about juicy steaks and chasing squirrels all day.

Claude nodded and aggressively rubbed the dogs back and belly, "Yes— that Rocko. But he was only acting like that because of what my dad is—"

For a moment, Claude panicked before considering thanking the gods as Martha opened the door into the clearing grounds.

"Rise and shine, furballs. We've got a lot to get through today…." Martha's warmth was forced, fading as she got the rest of the dogs out and running around. Then she turned back to the door and started messing with the lock.

Rocko quickly left them to go join the other swarming dogs.

"Let's go." Claude said to Ursula.

Martha had known Claude since he was young. She was one of Gil's first hires. The kennel originally belonged to her father— and his father built the place after retiring as a gold ranked Knight known as Knighthound.

Claude used to sneak into her locker to see his portrait when she was a teenager. He looked cool and had a unique approach to being a knight since he used trained hounds better than even some Beast-Tamers thanks to his support style class-kit that kept them shielded and superpowered in the worst of circumstances. He'd still sneak in to see the portrait if it was there….

But now Martha was an adult with the same red tinted dark-brown skin as her father and nappy dark Afro as her superpowered grandfather. It reminded him of sheep's whool— which felt ironic considering their line of work.

Claude and Ursula came to a stop behind her. She was so focused on the doorknob that she didn't even hear them. For a moment he watched the muscles in her back pop and flatten as her arms and hands went to work.

"Hey, Mart." Claude eventually said.

She turned, plain face marked with sweat beads, "Little grey. How goes it, man?"

Claude shrugged, "It goes."

Martha looked over to Ursula, then she smiled for real as she looked between them both a few more times, "I know this ain't who I think it is…."

Claude pinched the bridge of his nose, "What did my dad say?"

Martha giggled, "BANE!!!!"

In a literal second, a massive bald-headed man with excessive body hair was at the window built into the door. He looked from Claude to Ursula and smiled, causing his massive mustache to move like it was a living rodent, "HAHA— it's her!"

"It's me!" Ursula smiled in confusion.

Martha stood and held out a hand to the berserker.

They shook up.

"So, you like wrestling with our boy here under the sheets?"

Claude threw his arms up, "Oh— come on! That was a misunderstanding!"

Ursula made the same face as the rest of them before grinning evilly, "I do, but only because he likes to let me win."

Bane and Martha hesitated for a moment before exploding with laughter and shouts. The dogs began to howl and bark at them like a crowd of four legged supporters.

"Damn, LG— I didn't know you were the type to like getting handled." Martha wiped a tear.

Claude had to pry himself out of the headlock Rocko put him in amidst the chaos, "I'm not— what the hell are we talking about right now…?"

They continued laughing.

"Oh man. I think I've found my home. Cute dogs and people who love to mess with Claude as much as me."

"Isn't it great?" Martha agreed.

"He's so stiff." Bane yelled through the glass, "Like an overworked muscle."

"You guys are great. I come to work to escape, you know?" Claude said as one of the dogs nipped him in the butt.

Martha reached over and grabbed his shoulder, "Don't we all?"

She let go and turned to Ursula, "I like you, girl."

Ursula smiled, "Likewise. My name is Ursula."

"I like that." Martha said, "So, you come with our Primal-Tamer for work or just to look around?"

"Work." Ursula answered firmly.

"You got any experience with dogs?"

"You could say that." Ursula said, thinking of a particular few back home. They were worse than the dogs in the kennel. It was almost disrespectful to the dogs to relate them.

"Great." Martha said, "Rocko, Brutus and Pretty need a bath. Hawk and Boots need their claws clipped and coats oiled. Jumper needs a tooth cleaning. I'll cover training and exercise drills on the main floor today with Bane." Martha explained before turning to Claude after looking at the clock once, "Hey, don't leave those back rooms today. Cool?"

"….. What's wr—"

"You stay where you're assigned. Do you understand?" Martha pressed. Looking as stern as her knightly grandfather in the portrait once left in her locker.

Claude blinked in confusion.

"We understand." Ursula said and took Claude's hand, "Lead the way, little-grey."

Claude and Ursula got to work on the dogs. Rocko was the most energetic and difficult to deal with, causing the two of them to be covered in dog hair and soap by the time the next dog was brought in.

Claude enjoyed teaching Ursula how to clip nails. It was a delicate process that required a special bond to be shared between dog and man. They didn't communicate like humans— but they were more so. And you had to pay attention to every unspoken word for the process to go seamlessly. He enjoyed teaching the language to Ursula.

He enjoyed.

Something he hadn't done in such a way for a while without an added dose of anxiety.

They were halfway through oiling Boot's coat when the doors into the kennel opened again.

Claude kept a hold on Boots leash as the dire wolf-dog's stood in the massive metal basin they called the bath. Ursula scrubbed away at his sides, picking thick wiry Arctic white fur out of the brush after every stroke.

"My goodness— how do you have this much hair?" Ursula asked the massive long limbed dog.

Boots groaned as if he too wondered that before leaning over the tub and dipping his snout into the bag at Ursula's belt where treats were stored.

He crunched away.

Ursula continued cleaning.

Claude interjected, "Now would be a good time to get those sensitive areas— while he's distracted."

"Righ—"

"Hands in the air!"

"You! Put the dogs up or I start pelt-farming!"

Claude, Ursula and Boots looked up at the sound of commotion.

Claude took off. Ursula called after him before being trampled by Boots. They ran down the small halls split by small rooms until they reached the door leading outside. The door where Bane was once leaned up to talk to them from the other side. The light was off. Not that it mattered to him, he was heading out.

At least that was the plan. The handle was frozen.

"She told us to stay here for a reason." Ursula said.

Claude looked back at her— him and Boots had matching glowing eyes. And fangs. And claws.

"Scary…" Ursula thought. Claude was the only person to illicit that animal fear in her. Like she was standing off with two rabid wolves instead of a boy and dog.

"Open the door." Claude said in a jumbled mess due to his teeth changing into fangs.

"Claude. You know I usually have no problem listening to you, but this isn't a joke. You got lucky with the dark-eaters. Those detectives are pretty high brass, though. And they aren't here for you, but they will be if they talk to you for even a second. You're loaded with secrets. Either Martha knows and is trying to keep you safe, or she has her own she wants to keep you away from." Ursula explained.

Claude was only taken out of his territorial rage by the thought. "Does Martha know? About my dad?"

He turned and looked out the window to watch the chaos die down on the main grounds.

Bane showcased a masterclass in canine handling as he rounded up the dogs with a combination of charmers flute work and treat placement, leading them out back where they could claw at the door the second he closed it.

Then it was just Martha, Bane and three Detectives.

He'd scarcely seen Detectives. They were nothing compared to the dark-eaters. No bald heads and crazy tattoo's. No dark porcelain masks and white eyes. Just people. Well tailored people with sharp eyes that seemed to be taking in every atom of the place in real time.

They all wore black slacks, grey button ups with a vest over that and black whool cloaks with gold pins. Same boots, same pure silver swords at their hip and great sword at their back. Except one of them wore heels on a silver spike and weilded a scythe— though it was closed up and sheathed at her back like the others.

She was pretty. Platinum blonde hair tied to the back of her head. Dark brown eyes. Glossed lips and a visible neck tattoo. She also had silver nails.

"You're Martha?" She asked. Her voice was like silk if it could entice you.

"I am."

"Nice to meet you." She held out a hand as the other detectives circled her like sharks.

Martha took it warily.

"Mmmmm…. You're pretty." The blonde detective purred.

"This how you start all your investigations?" Martha asked.

"Only the ones I know will be a….. treat."

"Fucking freak." Ursula whispered, "Detectives are always….. weird."

Martha tried to let go. The detective wouldn't budge.

"So, what's this I hear about you being a werewolf."

The suddenness of such a serious question was both bizzare and fitting to what Claude had seen of her character.

"Rumor. Unfounded bullshit." Martha said with a shrug.

"Is that right? Because your accuser said she found you in her chicken coop. She said the light of her lantern reflected from your eyes. Humans don't do that. Do any of you do that?" She asked her detectives.

They didn't reply. Like human sculptures told to act alive, they continued walking.

"I was not in her coop. I have wolves here— I took some of their droppings and placed it near the coop— where our fences met, so she'd stop being raided by foxes." Martha explained.

"And the eyes?" The detective asked with a manic hunger.

"Go get a lantern and try it." Martha invited.

"Mmmmm…. I've got a few things I'd like to try." The detective leaned in— still holding Martha's hand— that now bled. As she pulled Martha close, red smoke spun from her mouth and off her shining lips.

Martha tried to back away but she was held by the other detectives.

She inhaled the red smoke and snarled.

"Oh come on, pretty girl….. that's not enough." The detective blew another plume of smoke into Martha's mouth.

Martha grew angrier— more feral.

"More." The detective said.

Martha shook in the detectives grips.

Claude was forgetting why he was hidden behind the door.

The detective wasn't satisfied and pulled Martha into a kiss where she was smothered by the smoke.

"We're done here." Claude stood up and dove through the glass window in the door.

At the same time, from the grounds beneath the detectives holding Martha, wooden vines exploded from the ground, knocking them aside as it psuedo tree took shape.

Claude roared, letting off his rage like it was a suffocating heat.

The backdoor burst open- knocking Bane over completely as fifty dogs, wolf hybrids and experimental breeds came charging in response to the call of the tamer.

Claude shifted in two steps. He put on ten pounds of pure canine muscle, fur bloomed from the pores in his skin, the bone density in his legs increased exponentially to support his new high endurance form. His lungs grew. His nails thickened into white claws. He used them to the best he could as he scaled the tree.

In the distance the knocked down detectives tried and failed to get to their feet as vines spiraled out of the cracks in the floor and tied them down. The faster dogs ran over to them and ripped their weapons off with the belt still attached.

Claude stayed hidden among the branches on the trees, peering down at the detective from the shadows.

She'd spun Martha around and held her by the throat with her silver coated nails. A wicked smile split her lips. And she was….

"Blushing?"

"And who might you be, feral man?"

"He's no one!" Martha spat—

"Quiet. You're not as enticing anymore."

"What's your problem?" Claude asked from the shadows.

"No problem. Only purpose, honey….. why don't you come down and I'll tell you all about it?"

"I'm good. I'm not a fan of smoking."

The detective giggled, "What are you a fan of?"

"You leaving."

The detective's giggling blush fest faded as she went deadly serious, "No dice, beast. I'm not leaving here until I've got a fresh werewolf pelt to lay in my dining room."

The dogs filling the open area growled in disagreement, making the ground shake.

"There's no werewolves here." Claude said.

"Explain yourself then."

"Beast-Tamer."

"The usual cop-out."

"Truth."

"Prove it or I'll have to come up there and do it myself. After I'm done with your….. packmates, of course." The detective looked at Martha and the dogs.

Before she could even get a laugh out, Claude flipped out of the tree and landed in a low crouch on the ground below.

"Runts are usually the most fiesty. How will you prove your humanity, anklebiter?" She asked. Up close, her beauty was overshadowed by unease.

Her hair was too perfect. Like she greased and brushed it manically for hours. Her eyebrows were too plucked. Her pupils too small and her irises too firm in one color, like she was a living embodiment of extremes down to the soul.

Claude calmed and felt his human form take over once more. He held a hand out.

Rocko snorted and trotted over with the sword and belt still in his mouth.

Rocko came to a stop beside Claude.

"Drop it."

Rocko's tail wagged and he growled.

"Dude…. Not right now." Claude whispered.

Rocko barked with the belt in his mouth and jumped around.

Claude forced his taming power to the surface, powered by his will and connection to the wild. Like the time in the forest against the snake, he felt his voice change- and the world with it in response.

"Belt, buddy. Now."

Rocko shivered and dropped the belt before sitting beside him.

Claude pet the massive dog and picked up the belt. From there he unsheathed the sword.

"You're hunting werewolves— of course, some angry neighbor threw the only rumor that would stick to dog handlers on the city outskirts. As a result, pure silver weaponry is probably in your kit. Like this sword." Claude took out the blade.

It had no hilt. To be fair, if it was for slaying werewolves, as he assumed, then they didn't need the defensive potential of a hilt. If a werewolf got that close, they were dead anyway. The sword was clearly a slash focused weapon made for quick strikes from behind in a flurry. To wear down sizable beasts.

The blade was also sectional. He found a button on the handle and clicked it.

The sword fell into sharp pieces connected by silver wire. Suddenly he was holding a bladed whip that was twice as long as before.

"What are you gonna do, runt?" She asked.

Martha looked terrified.

"Prove you wrong." Claude brought the whip back into sword form and ran it across the top side of his forearm.

His blood ran. His jaw clenched at the pain. The dogs whined in worry.

The detectives all watched intently.

When he was done, he dropped the sword, blood dripping at his feet all the while.

[98% HP Remaining]

"Leave now. There's no werewolf here."

"I'll be the judge of that." The detective looked ready to tear into Martha—

"You already were. Judgement passed the moment Claude dropped the blade. Ursula said as she came out.

The two detectives on the ground suddenly lost all the color in their faces.

"And who are you? If I were to guess? Werebear. You've got that density to you…. Let's see if you have the ursine madness—"

"If you hurt me, you hurt my name. If you hurt my name, my father will ash you before you can say hot." Ursula explained.

"And who's daddy?"

"Rory Legrand, The Red Knight of Rage."

The detective for once, didn't look like she was controlling the floor.

She loosened her grip on Martha. "Why are you in this backwater shitpit, princess?"

"Why not." Ursula shrugged.

"Det. Cyrene, we should leave. He…. He passed the silver test." One of the grounded detectives said.

"He volunteered to take it. No one does that." The other said.

Det. Cyrene looked around, visibly growing angry, "You spineless puppies! The fuc— I'm not leaving! YOU! You attacked two members of law enforcement. I could have you sent to the halls of the basilisk. You may not be a werewolf now but if I leave you with the right gang, it's only a matter of time. Then you'll be a cute little science experiment for the alchemists there. Maybe you'll have the cure in your blood you sorry piece of s—"

"Detective, Martha passed the silver test too. You attacked her after." Claude said.

"There's four witnesses who can attest to that." Ursula said, "My fathers not a fan of abuse of power." Ursula almost gagged at the lie, "It's not very….. uhhh…"

"Knightly." Claude finished.

"You can leave. Or you can kill Claude like you want to. But then I'll bring the sun down on your whole precinct." Ursula said.

Rocko barked to further drive home the point.

Det. Cyrene's once perfect face was made grotesque as veins pulsed in her forehead and her mascara dripped from the tears. In the midst of her psychotic sobs she started to laugh.

Claude and Ursula involuntarily backed away.

"HehehhahahahHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SHIT!" She inhaled like an addict who got their fix. Then she pushed Martha to them and pointed at Claude and Ursula. "One reason. Give me one reason— and I'm in heaven. Do it— please. Haha….. just…. Mmmmmmmhm— just one. I'll take half a reason to have your skin!"

"Y-you have to let us out. To stop her." One of the detectives said.

Ursula rushed over with frosted hands and broke them free of the vines. They immediately grabbed her and left.

Leaving the rest of them in the kennel maingrounds to look between eachother both in pure terror and confusion.

They were silent for a moment. Claude didn't like seeing the sadness. He tried to fix it.

"See— I don't like being handled. I don't like you or you or you being handled either." Claude said in reference to their previous teasing gestures.

Martha looked at him and laughed— but it sounded like a sigh. "Bless your heart, Claude."

"Mine too." Ursula said, "I feel like we just saw a demon in human skin."

"Yea no kidding. I hope I never see that woman again.."