Chapter Seven

 

Stern returned Cyra’s kiss happily. His arms were around her waist, and he drew her in to lean across his torso. Cyra felt lust and love in equal measure, radiating no fear at all in the moment. When the kiss ended, Stern gave her a smile. “Good morning, Cyra.”

 

“Good morning,” Cyra smiled back, staying where she was stretched across his pectorals. “I feel good today.”

 

“Yes,” Stern said as he squeezed her lightly. “That’s a wonderful feeling.”

 

“I think seeing you and Trish the other day helped. You were so concerned for me, even when she was scrambling your brains,” Cyra giggled.

 

“I was,” Stern agreed, his body reacting to the memory.

 

“I talked with Trish last night, after…” She trailed off, biting her lip gently. “And we think that maybe I can go a little further tonight. Not like her, but maybe a little closer... if you’re okay with that?”

 

Cyra’s worry spiked as she asked, and Stern ran a hand gently down her back. “If you’re sure, then yes. I would welcome anything. I just don’t want you hurt. You mean too much to me for me to let my lust control me unthinkingly.”

 

Cyra swallowed hard, her love for Stern spiking, and she kissed him again. It was demanding, deep, and passionate as she tried to show him how much his care for her meant to her.

 

Stern groaned and broke the kiss before she was ready. “Cyra, we need to stop. We have a dungeon to run,” he panted lightly.

 

Cyra blinked slowly at him, not having wanted to stop, but his words penetrated her brain. “Oh, right. I… sorry.”

 

“No,” Stern soothed her. “Nothing to be sorry for. Your kisses are starting to make me want more, and it’s not time for that, yet.”

 

Cyra blushed, but she was smiling as she leaned over him. “As much as you want Trish?”

 

“Yes,” Stern said, meeting her green eyes. “Equally.”

 

Cyra beamed, then leaned down and rested her forehead against his. “And I want you as much as I want her. I’m going as slow as I can because, if I rush, it might mean a setback. So I end up awkwardly trying to do more, but hold back, too.”

 

“I know,” Stern whispered. “As much as you love me, I love you back. Trish loves us both just as much, too.”

 

Cyra sighed softly, then sat up beside him. “Okay. We’ll be waiting for you.”

 

“I’ll hurry,” Stern said when Cyra got off the bed.

 

It was only a few minutes later when Stern came out of his room, buckling his backpack in place. “I’m ready.”

 

“The full bag?” Trish asked.

 

“My parents have told me of their runs,” Stern said. “The later dungeons go a lot easier if you have your bag… from the length of the dungeon to things like needing rope.”

 

“Hmm...” Trish said. “That would hinder my ability to fight.”

 

“Cyra and I should be the ones to carry them,” Stern said. “Anyone who’s going to end up in melee can just carry a first aid kit.”

 

Cyra was already heading for her room. “I’ll grab my full bag. Train as you fight, right?”

 

“In this case, fight as you fight,” Stern chuckled, “but yes.”

 

Trish tapped the back of her belt. “I have my kit. What you say makes sense... I wonder how the siblings will take the bags?”

 

“We’ll find out shortly,” Stern said.

 

“True enough,” Trish agreed.

 

Cyra came out, buckling her pack on. “Okay. I’m ready.”

 

“Let’s go,” Stern said. He grinned at Pawly, who was already sitting by the front door. “Sorry, your majesty. Your attendants needed their gear to serve you.”

 

Pawly meowed and lifted a paw as if in benediction.

 

Cyra giggled. “She’s always so cute.”

 

Stern and Cyra had to put their bags beside them when they took seats at the table. Pawly claimed the chair to Stern’s left again. The same serving girl came out to take their order, but paused when she saw the dwarven siblings coming to the table.

 

“Breakfast, dark ale,” Vulk said as he dropped into a chair.

 

“Breakfast and tea, please,” Cammie said, giving her brother a glare.

 

“Please,” Vulk added, looking away from his sister.

 

“Five breakfasts, a kettle of black tea, and one dark ale,” the girl said before hurrying away.

 

“Why the bags?” Vulk grumbled.

 

“Later dungeons require many things,” Stern replied a bit tersely, unable to help himself. “Rope, spikes, sleeping bags. I will always carry my bag, as we might need the items later, and getting used to it now is just smart.”

 

“You’re not going to fight?” Vulk snorted.

 

“Brother,” Cammie said overly-sweetly as she turned a death glare on him, “are we going to have to talk again?”

 

Vulk looked away from her. “No. I don’t remember hearing his perks yesterday, though.”

 

“Because you both agreed and left before I could,” Stern shrugged. “And my perks are easier to show than explain.”

 

“We’ll explain in the dungeon,” Trish said. “Stern was the bulk of our damage before.”

 

Vulk snorted softly. “I see.”

 

Pawly hissed and glared at Vulk. He jerked, startled.

 

“Easy,” Stern said, soothingly rubbing Pawly’s head. “He’ll learn.”

 

Cammie frowned, clearly trying to put things together, but was derailed when the server came back with the kettle and cups for the table and her brother’s ale. “Thank you, Keita.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Keita replied, her gaze going to Pawly. “Is the kitty nice?”

 

Stern gave Keita a nod. “To those who respect her. She also loves petting. Did you want to try?”

 

Keita looked back at the bar where her father was serving someone. She nodded, then moved around the table and held her hand out to Pawly. Pawly sniffed it, then pushed her head into the girl’s palm. Keita smiled and gave Pawly a light scratch behind the ears.

 

“Keita, breakfast is up!” an older woman called from the kitchen.

 

Keita scurried off, glancing at her father who gave her a questioning look. “Sorry, Father.”

 

Her dad looked toward their table, frowning when he saw Pawly’s head. “Hey, the cat—?”

 

“Is mine,” Stern said. “A summons. She won’t leave a mess.”

 

“A summons? Well, okay…” The man was clearly doubtful, but he did his best to keep his suspicion and distrust off his face.

 

“A summons?” Vulk asked. “The cat?”

 

Pawly growled softly, eyeing Vulk like he was lunch. She cut off when Stern stroked her head.

 

“We’ll explain in the dungeon,” Trish said again, firmly, “unless you want to walk away now?”

 

“No!” Cammie said quickly. “We’ll wait. Won’t we, Vulk?”

 

Vulk grumbled under his breath. “Fine. Whatever.”

 

Keita was back with their food a minute later. It was the same breakfast soup as the day before. She wished them all a good day and, with another look at Pawly, left them to eat.

 

Stern and Cyra both pulled out chunks of sausage for Pawly, who ate them as if it was her just due. Cammie watched with interest while Vulk snorted softly.

 

There was some tension, as Vulk was obviously not sold on the idea of Pawly being a summons. That meant they ate in silence, leaving the inn in the same silence.

 

~*~*~

 

Cammie led them to the dungeon behind the Walkers’ hall. The wooden overhang took up half the space of the inn. The support posts for the covering were steel and looked aged, but cared for.

 

The guards stood around a waist-high wall, allowing a single group at a time over it. All around, groups of Walkers were waiting to go in or talking to others. Stern could pick out the loners or pairs who were hoping for groups. A lot of attention turned their way when someone noticed Stern and quickly spread the word. The conversation dropped off, and the majority of the Walkers stared at their group.

 

“Problems?” Trish asked as she took up a broad stance.

 

“He’s not blighted, right?” an angelic man asked, his wings rustling nervously behind him.

 

“Irregular,” another said. “He’s staying at the inn. Innkeeper told us to leave him be.”

 

“A crew?” an elven female asked.

 

“Pawsitively Irregular,” Cyra said. “We’re pulling shards today.”

 

Silence followed her word for a second before someone laughed. More joined in until laughter filled the open air. Pawly was unsure if they were laughing at her, so she bristled a little. Stern could feel contempt, amusement, and curiosity, but the anger and fear had faded.

 

“What happened to your armor?” a dwarf asked.

 

“Camouflage,” someone else answered. “I hear a lot of the Rescue Squad has taken to doing it. Darkhand does it, and it’s spreading.”

 

“It looks ugly as sin. Darkhand really does that?”

 

“At least the colors aren’t bright and gaudy,” someone else said.

 

The conversation turned away from them and toward the last speaker who was suddenly trying to answer questions.

 

Trish approached the guards, as no one else had. “We’d like to go in. The five of us.”

 

The captain looked the group over, then at Pawly. “Cat?”

 

“Summons,” Stern said tightly, aware that some were still listening in.

 

“The cat?” the captain asked incredulously.

 

Stern sighed, then enlarged Pawly. That got a lot of attention, especially when she chuffed and shook. “Yes.”

 

“Right… uh, go ahead.”

 

Trish looked over the wall and found swirling mist on the ground. “I almost forgot the drop.” Without another word, she stepped over the wall and dropped into the mist.

 

Cammie and Vulk went right after her. Cyra looked at Pawly, who chuffed, before she vanished. Stern looked back at the stunned expressions, ready to go after his friends, when someone yelled at him.

 

“Hey! You got a summons and an upgrade for them, already?”

 

Stern snorted, then motioned to Pawly. “I thought it was obvious.”

 

A couple of people laughed.

 

“But in what dungeons?” the questioner pressed.

 

“Dude!” someone snapped. “That isn’t right.”

 

“But—!” the questioner started to defend himself.

 

Stern didn’t stay to listen— he just hopped over the wall and vanished. The crowd jerked when Pawly was suddenly gone from where she’d been sitting a few feet from the guards.

 

“She really was a summons,” another person said, causing more conversations to pop up.

 

The captain watched the Walkers, then glanced at the dungeon entrance. Pawsitively Irregular, hmm…?