“Kill you?” Jack chuckled, clapping a paw on Sarkozy’s shoulder.  His grip tightened as the smaller fox flinched, and Jack slapped him across the back of the head with his free paw.  “That was for biting me.  We couldn’t kill you – think of the paperwork we’d have to fill out, right Luke?”
        “Right,” the otter replied as he holstered his revolver.  “And the sooner we get – “ he stopped speaking as he laid his paw on Sarkozy’s arm, closing his eyes as Jack glanced over at him.
        To Luke, the World had gone hazy as if it could be seen through rippling water or thick haze.  He fought it, and gasped as his surroundings came back to him.  “Luke?  Luke!  Are you all right?” Jack asked, his expression one of concern for his friend.
        Luke blinked a few times and shook his head.  “When we get back,” he said slowly, “I’m asking Pete if I can go see Doc Thomas.  I’d hate to have something like that happen when someone’s shooting at us.  Someone might get hurt.”
        “No kidding,” his partner said as he goaded Sarkozy into a walk.  “Come on, little fellow.  We’ll have to get that dye off of you so we can get a better look at you.”  He grinned.  “Do you think Pete’ll give us a cut of the reward, Luke?”
        The otter laughed softly.  “He’d better. It’s in our contracts, after all.  I don’t think the Mayor and the Council would want a strike on their paws.”
        They stopped at the boarding house only long enough to collect the rest of the fox’s clothes, then nearly had to drag him aboard the bus to take them into Kyuquot.


August 11, 1935
1700:

        “What – you found him?” Circling Eagle said as the otter and the fox hauled their arrestee through the open doorway of the building.  Another officer looked up curiously as Luke and Jack half-dragged the reluctant Sarkozy through the squadroom and into the back of the building where two cells stood idle.  After shoving him into a cell, Jack took up a guard position at the doorway until Luke had taken the pawcuffs off of the short, slim vulpine, then closed the door as his partner stepped out.
        Sarkozy gabbled something in his native language as he looked around the cell, then finally sat on the hard bunk and started to cry, cradling his face in his paws.  As Luke and Jack watched him, their sergeant entered the area.  “So, he was here, huh?”
        “Yeah,” Luke said.  “He came over from Canada early this morning - in woman’s clothes, if you please – and his fur dyed.  Jack and I caught him in the woods behind old Mrs. Mueller’s house.”
        “Great job, both of you,” the bobcat said as he smiled.  “You can fill out the reports tomorrow, and I’ll get a message sent to Seathl.”
        Just then Sarkozy leaped up and grabbed the bars, the sudden movement causing all three officers to start in surprise.  “Please, I beg you, kill me,” the Hungarian fox pleaded with tears in his eyes.
        Circling Eagle looked at Luke, who shrugged.  “He asked us to kill him when we caught him.”
        “I might’ve thought a bit about it too, after him biting me,” Jack added, rubbing his left paw meaningfully.
        “Well, Mr. Sarkozy, you’re not going to get killed around here,” the bobcat said, “so just relax and get some sleep.  One of us will be around with some food in a while,” and he led his two officers out of the cell area.
        Once they were in the sergeant’s office Pete said, “Good work, you two.”
        “Well, it was Luke’s idea to check out the ferry slip,” Jack said.
        Luke smiled sourly.  “Yeah, and it had us walking all over town looking for a short, gray-furred young girl.” 
        The three of them laughed as Circling Eagle picked up the telephone and tapped the cradle a few times.  “Hello, Jane?  Yeah, it’s Pete.  Look, we’ve got one in the cell back here and . . . no . . . look, could you please ring the diner and have Billy’s boy bring over two sandwiches and something to drink for the prisoner?  Thank you, Jane,” and he hung up the phone, scowling at it.
        Jack said, “I’m headed out to get my paw looked after.”
        “You coming back here?” Luke asked.
        “No, I think I’ll hit the saloon next,” the fox laughed.  He had joined up with the local Temperance League after a bout with alcoholism, and had been off the bottle for four years so far.  Jokes about his drinking were his way of dealing with the occasional craving.
        “Okay, just don’t show up hung over tomorrow,” Luke chuckled.  After his partner had left the building Luke asked his sergeant in a quieter tone, “Can I talk to you a minute, Pete?”
        “Sure, Luke.  What’s it about?” the bobcat asked after he and the otter had stepped into the office.  Luke waited until Circling Eagle had closed the door before speaking.
        “Well, while we were arresting Sarkozy, something strange happened,” and he described the strange mist that obscured his surroundings.  “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, and go see Doc Thomas tonight.”
        “Good thinking,” his sergeant said approvingly.  He opened the door and said, “Hey, Fred!  I need you to take a message to Luke’s wife.  He’ll be home late.”
        “Sure thing, Sarge,” the almost cadaverously thin husky said.  He stood up from his desk and walked out as a young lynx squeezed past him. 
        The kitten had a small brown paper bag and a small bottle of milk in his paws.  “Hey, Sergeant!” he said.  “Here’s the food you asked for.  Can I see the prisoner, please?” he asked, his ears canting forward.
        Pete laughed and waved him toward the back of the building.


        He had to get away.
        He wasn’t going back to Canada.
        Sarkozy dried his tears and started to study his situation objectively.  There weren’t many options still open to him, unless . . .
        The fox studied the bed he sat on, then looked at the bars.  None of them were horizontal, so he discarded that idea.
        He looked up, then sat up straight as a young lynx wearing an apron over his trousers and undershirt stepped in slowly, carrying a bag and a small bottle of milk.  “Here you are, Mister,” the boy said, placing the items on the floor and pushing them over to within easy reach.  He stood there, watching to see if the fox would take the offered food.
        Sarkozy was at first reluctant.  He had eaten several hours earlier, so he didn’t feel hungry.  But the fox almost immediately realized that he had no idea when he’d next get the chance to eat.  He leaned over and reached through the bars, picked up the bag and the bottle, and sat back.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.
        The lynx kitten watched him eat for a few minutes, then walked out.  Sarkozy sighed as his hackles rose.  Caged and fed like an animal . . . at least the milk was fresh and the sandwiches were tasty and filling.  There was even an apple for dessert. 
        When he was finished he lay back on the bunk, staring at the ceiling.


1720:

        “Hello, Officer Kelso!  Come in, come in,” Thomas Windsong said as he stepped back and held the door open for the otter.  The equine, a man about Luke’s height with fur so dark brown it was nearly black, left the door open to catch the night breeze as he said, “Sorry I didn’t come to the door sooner.  I was almost done eating, and my wife makes the best broccoli and cheese pie on the island.  Care for anything?” he asked, gesturing with a napkin in his paw.
        “No thanks, Doc, and call me by my first name, okay?” Luke replied, then caught himself as he heard the tone of his voice.  Kyuquot didn’t have many people in it, and everyone got along with each other.  “Sorry, it’s been a busy day,” he said.  “Thanks for the offer, Doc, but I’ll get something at home.  I need to talk to you.”
        The horse cocked an eye at the otter, and nodded.  “Come on to the back yard, then,” he said.  “It’s cooler.” 
        The breeze and the deepening shadows did make the yard feel cooler, and as Thomas’ wife ushered their colts off to their room the two men sat down in chairs facing each other.  “Now, suppose you tell me what’s bothering you,” the town’s shaman said, stretching out and crossing his legs at the ankles as he sat.
        Suddenly Luke felt as if something was holding him back and preventing him from speaking.  Thomas sensed his hesitation and said, “Take your time.  Relax, and the words will come.”  His voice was deep and soothing.
        “Well . . . I started having these visions about a month or so ago,” Luke said, and slowly he related what he had seen and what he had been doing about it.  As he spoke, he removed his shoes and dug his toes into the grass as the breeze ruffled the fur on his feet.  Thomas merely listened, his eyes half-closed as a paw touched the small medicine bag suspended by a leather thong around his neck. 
        “So, when I touched Sarkozy, everything just seemed to go hazy,” Luke said, frustration coloring his tone.  “Doc, I can’t work like this.  Suppose something happens and somebody gets hurt because I wasn’t there for them?”
        The equine pondered that and asked, “Have you considered asking the totem to help you?”
        “It’s a bear, not an otter,” Luke replied.  “I can’t figure why – “
        “The spirits choose who they will choose, Luke,” Thomas said.  “My own totem is the badger, after all.  Suits me, really; just look around you,” and he waved at the expansive vegetable gardens that took up a good portion of the yard.  Windsong’s family lived by selling produce in the town market.  “So welcome your totem.  Let it guide you.  Listen to what it has to say.”
        Luke shook his head.  “I don’t know how,” he admitted.
        “Of course you do,” Thomas urged gently, “you went to Mother Hanakan’s classes, same as me.”  He stood up, then sat on the grass and beckoned for Luke to do the same.  “Close your eyes and call to it.”
        Luke started to feel foolish for coming over to the shaman’s house, but recalled what Mother Hanakan had taught him as a kit and took several slow, deep breaths.  Well, I’m here, Bear, he thought.  Talk to me.
        Suddenly he was standing again on a spur of rock overlooking a sunlit forest that seemed to go on forever.  The sky overhead was dark and featureless, and a darker haze lurked to the east.  “But we caught Sarkozy,” he protested, turning to the Presence.  “The danger should be over.”
        “But it is not,” and at the sound of the Bear’s voice he flinched.  “The danger only increases.”  And the Presence pointed, and Luke turned in that direction . . .
        He found himself lying flat on his back, breathing as if he’d just run miles and listening to crickets as they started their evening song.  Near him Thomas still sat, a darker presence in the twilight.  “Welcome back,” the horse said.  “You’ve been away about a quarter-hour or so.”
        “That long?” Luke asked, sitting up and getting his breathing under control.  His eyes suddenly widened as a thought struck him.  “I have to make a call.  Can I use your phone?”
        “It’s in the front hall,” Thomas replied.  “You passed it on the way in.” 
        The otter got to his feet and dashed into the house, snatching up the phone’s pawset and tapping the cradle.  “Hello, Jane, this is Luke.  Connect me with Pete, please?  Okay . . . Pete?  Luke.  Look, don’t ask me how I know, just look in on Sarkozy, okay?  I’ll be there as fast as I can . . . what?  Look, never mind how, please?”  He hung up the phone and turned toward Thomas, who had stepped into the hall.
        “Bad news?” the horse inquired.
        “I need my shoes,” the otter said, heading past the equine.  “Look, can I come around again?  I’m going to need your help.”
        “You know where I am, Luke,” Thomas replied with a smile.


1830:

        Luke ran down the street to the police station, passing several furs who were enjoying the warm summer evening.  The police station was dark except for two lighted windows in the upper story where Pete lived.  As he reached the door he pulled his key from a pocket and unlocked the door.
        “Pete?” he called out as he entered.
        “Luke!  Thank God,” Pete’s voice came from the back room.  “Get the doctor, quick!”
        “What happened?” the otter asked as he rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of the pool of blood.



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