NOTE: Implied sexual content near the end of this chapter.

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“Oh, that’s not good.”

Trace looked up at Slick’s words, the tablet in his hands unable to compete with the seriousness of that tone. “What’s not good?”

Slick pointed down to the street, and Trace stood to have a look. The captain was at one of the vendor stalls haggling over something. That was pretty normal, and the vendor wasn’t new. Trace had seen him before during the rain festival and the cacti harvest. No complaints had been lodged against the shop, and no disturbances had been noted.

Still, the captain looked like he’d swallowed a cactus rind, spines and all.

“Should I have the vendor’s permits revoked?” Trace asked, swiping through the screens to pull up the data. It looked like the man sold trinkets and charms. The captain had a soft spot for anything fox-related, but that didn’t explain the look on his face.

“I don’t think it’s the seller,” Slick said. He moved away from the window and started putting his gear back on. “The vixens switched on us again. The first one is back.”

“Hmmm?” Trace frowned, scanning the street until he found the black spot of fur further down the street. He returned his gaze to the tablet and switched to the camera closest to that end of the market. Black Fox was still wearing the half-mask that hid the upper half of his face, but the movements had changed. He was noticeably more outgoing and flirting with a girl while attempting to buy her one of the sweets from the stall. At least two wolves appeared to be egging him on. “You think so?”

“You think that’s the third one still?” Slick asked, reaching out to feel Trace’s forehead.

Trace swatted the hand away. “Obviously not, just not sure how you figure the Boss is angry over that when the fox is nearly the full length of the market from him and not in line of sight. We only noticed because we have higher ground.”

“He noticed,” Slick said as he slid his shoes on. He stopped by the small fox shrine and let one hand rest on the latest small trinket the Captain had picked up. “I’m going to send him up. You’re best at calming this. You’re working on those trackers, right?”

“Working on them, yes, but they aren’t ready yet.” It was frustrating work.

“Still. You’re the second. You handle his moods better than I do.”

Trace scowled. He hated being handed tasks others didn’t want just because they said he was better at it. “And what are you going to do?”

Slick was tapping at his short sword with his fingers, impatient and edgy. “I’m going to go find something to kill.”

A sigh slipped from Trace’s mouth, but Slick was already gone. “And you think I’m any happier about this?” he asked the air. “Those three are just confusing.” He turned his attention back to the screen. “Or are you a fourth who’s better at mimicking?” He split the screen so he could keep watching the fox while pulling up the data he had on the tracker. The problem was that it was too big to be put on a person without them noticing. He could make it look like jewelry or something, but then they’d have to get the fox to wear it - and he’d probably have to make three, one for each fox. That would increase the data he’d get and they would know exactly what each fox did when outside the village. Yet three times the monitoring was also three times the risk of discovery. More, if they were able to spot differences on each other faster than on themselves.

No, he had to confine it to the one fox. “The mask, maybe?” It would be easier to attach a small tracker to it. He wouldn’t have to worry about the fox shifting with it on and noticing the pull on his fur, so the adhesive wouldn’t need to be adaptable.

“You think that would work?”

Trace looked up at the captain, who didn’t look any happier inside the room than he had down in the market. In his hand he clutched a black sash with a golden fox dancing down the length. The fine cloth was probably silk, and purely decorative. It was being absolutely crushed in the captain’s grip. “It’s less likely to be noticed if we can attach it there. We wouldn’t have to worry about getting him to wear jewelry or carry a specific weapon, since it’s something he already wears. I doubt he’d let me just grab it from his face, though. And for everything you want it’s still going to be noticed. It’s not perfect yet, but closer.”

“I see.” The captain added the sash to the small shrine they had, draping it over the statuette. The wolf was quite the collector. Then again, he could afford to be. The West Wolves were the main pack of the Desert Devils, eight wolves (including the captain) who were the best ninja of the wolf village. They had yet to fail a mission, and grumbling about their methods was kept to a minimum. Most wolves liked to keep their tongues, after all. It had only taken a few protesters for the message to sink in.

Trace set the tablet aside and walked over to the taller wolf. “Boss, you shouldn’t worry. We’re closer than we’ve ever been. He’s not going to slip away that easily.”

“He’s already slipped away,” the captain growled.

Trace reached up to rub at the tense shoulders and massage the muscles standing taunt along the captain’s neck and tried to gauge what the white wolf needed most. “Not far. They are switching places. The first one is back, right? That rules out kidnapping and other, darker, options. They’re working together.”

The shoulders eased a bit. “Yes, they do seem to be working as a team.”

Trace kept the words ‘skulk’ and ‘pack’ locked tight behind his teeth. Instead he unbuckled the swords his captain was carrying and the overly decorated (and hardly useful) light armor. “Lighten the load,” he said, echoing his actions. “Share the burden a bit.”

The captain breathed out, then turned to face Trace. With one hand he cupped the dark wolf’s cheek. “You won’t leave, right?”

“Not by choice,” Trace said, as honest as he could be. He lifted himself up and gave the captain a small peck on the cheek, then turned his head so the other man could scent his neck.

The captain took the offered opportunity, burying his hand in Trace’s hair and scratching at Trace’s scalp. Their captain was always clingy, particularly when reminded of him.

“I’m here,” Trace whispered, shivering as the scenting turned to kisses and the grip on his scalp turned more possessive. He moved backwards towards the bed, grabbing the captain’s shirt to pull the larger wolf back with him. This would be a far more enjoyable way to distract the captain than the usual sparring match, if the man was in the mood. “Be here with me?”

The captain followed, locking their lips together and rolling them onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. It seemed he was quite happy to be distracted.