This chapter is dedicated to @thujawhiskey because I know she'll like a cutesy scene. <3

Fell and I sit in our pens for at least an hour, collecting the curious looks of Wayler's Drecks. The coyote, eye swollen and pus filled from his morning training, props his chin up on the gate and stares at us. Yet, Arc is ever vigilant, and every time the poor coyote opens his mouth, Arc slams a fist into the wall. The pup snaps his mouth shut and cowers instead.

I want to feel bad for him, but in reality, I'm thankful. I haven't yet figured out the entire situation. Explaining it to the coyote wouldn't help anything.

Fell leans on our shared wall, silent but awake. He yawns occasionally, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

"You can take a nap," I say finally, sitting down on my mat.

"That's okay." He shakes his head. "I need to know what's going on. I might miss something if I go to sleep."

"But you haven't got any rest since yesterday."

"Sometimes it sucks to be nocturnal." He glances at me and smirks. "Are you worried about me?"

"Of course I am." I scowl at him.

"You shouldn't be. I can go days without sleep."

Regardless of the tension building in my shoulders, I smirk. "Remember last time you tried that? No naps, just seventy-two hours of solid awareness."

He groans. "Wayler figured out pretty quick how violent I get, huh?"

He leans against the wall, two toned arms folded on the top of it. His messy tan hair stands up at awkward angles, making him look a lot like a puffer fish. The scar on his right shoulder glitters in the sunlight that beams down from the window. It's an old wound, but the skin is still the color of a kitten's paws.

"Do you think this is real?" I ask, standing up and crossing to stand beside him. Our elbows touch, and neither of us move to seperate. It's calming.

"Drecks are bought and sold all the time. Dreck Trading, remember?"

"Yeah, but that guy... Anderson... It seems like he actually takes care of his Drecks."

Fell meets my eyes. They search me for a minute, not answering. So, I continue.

"It has to be a trick. To lure us in or something."

He sighs. "I don't know, Cani."

"Do you believe them?" I pull off the wall and back up a step. "Do you seriously believe that if we go with them they'll set us up in nice rooms and feed us?"

Fell runs his hand through his hair and stands up straight. "I don't know what to believe. I don't think Anderson and Amelia are sinister, though. They just don't have that... feel to them."

"Feel? What are you— a mindreader?"

"I'm just using my instincts."

Even I can't fight back against the instinct card. I cross my arms over my chest.

"They're humans, Fell," I plead.

"Yeah, but so are we."

For the second time, our eyes meet. He's not wrong. I fight daily to retain what ounce of humanity I have left in me. These people, though, these traders, they're different from me and Fell. They're worse. Right?

They made us, genetically enhanced us. They're different.

"I don't trust them," I whisper, sinking down onto the straw bed.

"Then trust me." His voice drifts towards me like a Spring wind, carrying more emotion that I've heard from him in months. The stone statue that is Fell breaks for half a second, and I look up at him. He's perched on the wall like he might try to jump over and join me. He could easily do it, if the constant fear of getting caught didn't hang over him like a storm cloud.

"Trust me, Cani. We can't keep living like this, being punished for existing, cringing at the very scent of Wayler, training every spare second of every day. He's just keeping us alive enough. Don't you want better?"

"Of course, I do. Better seems unattainable, though. We are what we are. Life doesn't get better for us, it just gets worse."

Fell growls, and before I can stop him, he's leaped over the wall and into my pen. His landing is absolutely silent, as was his jump, but we both freeze. Are we waiting for the same sound— the barn door opening, Arc's guttural warning to us, a janitor to appear out of thin air?

Regardless, nothing comes. The night is as quiet as it was in the half-second before Fell jumped, in the empty spaces between our whispers. Can the other Drecks hear us? Do they care?

Fell sits beside me and pulls my hand into his. One of his claws has broken off somehow, and the handlers must've not gotten around to sharpening what's left because it's dull and soft.

"Listen," he whispers, so much more quiet than before. It's almost not speaking at all. Instead, I might be reading the vibrations of his breaths against the fur that lines my ears. "It doesn't matter if Anderson is better than Wayler or if we'll get treated better. As long as you and I stick together, we'll be fine. Do you know why I haven't lost a fight yet?" I shake my head. "Because you give me a reason to come back here. I would have let some other Dreck kill me a dozen tournaments ago if I didn't have you."

Something in me breaks. My heart? My resolve? Either way, I'm warmer than I was two seconds ago. Safer. Happier.

"What does this have to do with our decision?" I whisper.

"As long as we stick together, I'll be happy. Whatever you want to do will be okay with me. I know we deserve better than this, though."

I shake my head. "How can we? We're murderers."

Fell puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. "No, we're champions," he says, in a perfect Wayler voice. A single laugh vibrates through my chest.

"Go to sleep," I say, gently shoving him away from me. He flops around clumsily for a second.

"Alright. If you really want me to."

He stands to leave, but my fingers are still tangled in his. Instead of pulling them apart, Fell looks down at me.

There's so much going through my head right now. What will happen if we go with Anderson? Will Wayler make us go to complete the sale? Are they truly as nice as they act? Is this our chance at freedom, at escape?

What if I make the wrong decision?

"Will you stay?" I ask, looking up at him. As serious as he was already, his face drops even further. He swallows but nods. I make room for him on the mattress pad, and we lay down together, a tangle of limbs and fur.

Fell wraps his arms around me; my body curls into the small space between us. With my cheek pressed against his chest, I listen to his heartbeat taps on his ribcage. There is also a softer, rhythmic vibration coming from deep in his chest.

"Are you purring, Fell?" I ask with a smirk.

He laughs. "Go to sleep, Balto."

"Don't call me that."

"Go. To. Sleep." Fell raps me on the back of the head. "Or I'm leaving."

I sigh in agreement, closing my eyes. Maybe in the morning everything will be clearer. Maybe the world will make more sense in the daylight.