Anatol snorted and jerked awake. He blinked his eyes against the sunlight that shone in through the small, heavily meshed window that faced east. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat upright in the chair. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep during the night, but somehow it had snuck up on him. A yawn slipped out, causing him to open his mouth wide while sucking in a deep breath of air before smacking his tongue and lips at the taste of morning mouth. He glanced at Sheila and saw that she was both awake and watching him intently. “Good morning,” he said in a tired, yet cheerful voice.

“Why?” the vixen asked, studying the priest intently.

“Eh?” he grunted, flicking his ears for a second to get rid of an itch. Confused by the question, he frowned. “Why what?”

“Why did you sleep in that chair,” she replied, scowling at him with distrust.

“Oh,” he replied, nodding knowingly. “You asked me to stay last night.”

Sheila’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as she studied him. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he replied as he straightened his slightly rumpled clothing. “It was after the doctor sedated you. You were struggling against the restraints and wouldn’t sleep. I removed them and said that I’d stay and watch over you while you slept to keep you safe.”

Her expression changed to one of deep thought and confusion while she tried to remember the event. Eventually she simply shook her head and shrugged. “You didn’t do a very good job of it.”

“I didn’t?” Anatol replied, surprised at the statement.

“Not only did you fall asleep, but you snore, too,” she griped. “It woke me up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that,” he replied, smiling apologetically. “It wasn’t my intent to fall asleep. I’m sorry if my snoring disturbed you.”

Sheila gave him a small, brief smile. “So why’d you stay? Why didn’t you just go home after I fell asleep?”

“I said I would stay and I did. When I give my word, I do my best to keep it,” he explained, scooting the chair a little closer to the bed. “Besides, I thought you might be comforted seeing a familiar face when you woke up.” His smile faded as he saw the dejected look on Sheila’s face. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?”

Looking at him with pleading eyes, Sheila asked, “Is there any way you can get me out of here?”

“I don’t quite think you’re ready to leave the hospital yet,” he gently stated.

“Not out of the hospital, out of here!” She waved her cast around the room. “This place is like a fucking prison cell. It’s not much better than that hole they had me locked up in.” She reached out and grabbed at his hand. “Please. Just put me in a regular room where I’ll be able to look out the window and there won’t be bars and locks on all the doors! I promise I’ll be good! Promise!”

“All right,” the priest replied, patting her hand. “I’ll talk to the doctor and see about moving you.” He stood while still holding her hand. Giving it a brief squeeze, he let go, turned and walked to the door where he pressed the button. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” he said while waiting for the door to buzz.

He made his way down the hall to the combination security and nurse’s station. As he was buzzed through, he nodded to the nurse. “Who’s on duty today?”

“Doctor Freedman is on right now,” she replied, buzzing the door for the exit.

“Thanks,” Anatol said on his way out the door. He weaved his way through the halls to the men’s bathroom where he relieved himself before wandering over to the office that was shared by the various psychiatric doctors. Sticking his head in, he saw a small otter sitting at one of the desks. “Doctor Freedman?”

The otter looked up at the priest and smiled. “Father. What can I do for you?”

Anatol stepped fully into the office and leaned against the doorjamb. “I was wondering if you could see fit to have Sheila transferred from the maximum security wing to a regular room?’

“I don’t have a problem with it, but the FBI might,” the otter responded. “They specifically requested a maximum security bed.

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “However, Zig Zag is now the legal guardian, not the FBI. Would that make any difference?”

“Maybe,” the doctor replied, leaning back and chewing on the pencil he held. “It depends on whether they have her in protective custody or not. I’ll call the contact on record and ask for clarification on her status. If they don’t object, then we should be able to move her.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” the priest declared.

“No problem,” Dr. Freedman replied.

“How’s your back?” Zig Zag asked as she came out of the bathroom, tying the belt of her bathrobe.

“Still stiff, but I’ll live,” James replied as he carefully did a few stretching exercises to try and limber up a little.

“Would you like me to give you another backrub?” she asked as she walked up behind him, laying a hand on the base of his spine. “I really don’t mind doing it.”

James groaned as he straightened up. “No thanks. I’ll be fine,” he replied, turning to her. Gathering Zig Zag in his arms, he started to give her a kiss but a knock at the door interrupted them.

“Geez,” Zig Zag groaned while disengaging herself from the embrace. “What now?” she asked as she walked over to the door. Peeping through the door, she saw a bellhop holding a bundle of flowers. She opened the door and looked out. “Yes?”

“These flowers just came for you, ma’am,” the young fur said, offering the bundle. “Manager thought it might be some ploy to get up here to see you so he sent me up with ‘em.”

Zig Zag took the bundle of flowers and nodded. “Thanks,” she said, before closing the door. Annoyed at the interruption, she walked over to the small dinette table and pulled out the card before setting the flowers down.

“Secret admirer?” James asked as he buttoned the shirt he’d put on.

“I don’t know yet,” she replied, opening the small envelope. She read it and cursed.

James frowned and walked up next to her and tried to read the card over her shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Dear Zig,” she read. “PT Barnum’s coming to visit. Expect record turnout. Love L. PS – You owe me thirty five for the flowers.”

“PT Barnum” James echoed, his brow furrowed. “What’s that all about?”

“I think it’s Logan’s way of telling me that everyone and their brother knows where we are and that I should expect a media circus,” she replied, crumpling the card. Growling, she flung it in the general direction of a trashcan, not bothering to watch if it went in or not.

“Oh well. After that little scene in the airport, I can’t say as I’m surprised,” James replied, tucking his shirt in. “You think it’s safe to eat down in the restaurant or should we have room service?”

“Yeah, we should be ok,” she replied, frowning. “So much for casual dress today. I’m going to have to look good for the cameras again.” Looking at the flowers, she snarled and cursed.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” James said, concerned for her mood. “No reason you can’t dress casual despite the cameras.”

“It’s not that,” she snarled, picking up the bundle of flowers and shook them at James. “I can’t believe Logan paid thirty five dollars for these weeds.”

Anatol leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. His morning had been a busy one, having gotten approval from the powers that be to get Sheila moved, and then being with her during the move. He’d finally gotten a chance to eat breakfast while she settled into a nice, semi-private room. His hunger sated, he was nursing the remains of the coffee, enjoying the quiet of the relatively empty cafeteria.

A quick glance at the clock showed that it was almost ten o’clock. He drained his cup and gathered the remains of his breakfast onto the tray before disposing of it on his way out. As he passed by the lobby he saw that security was busy dealing with a couple of reporters who wouldn’t take no for an answer. A quick glance through the double sliding glass doors showed several remote broadcast vehicles belonging to local TV and radio stations, each with their share of reporters and technicians gathered around them. He shook his head as he stepped onto the elevator. No doubt there would be reporters trying to sneak in and get a picture or quote from the vixen.

The priest nodded to the guard stationed near the elevator as he exited. Proceeding down to the room Sheila had been placed in, he was pleased to see another guard sitting in a chair outside her door. He gave the man a curt node before entering the room to see Sheila bent over, leaning against the ledge of the window, looking down at the growing crowd outside. Anatol froze in mid step at the realization that the waging tail of the vixen was the only thing remotely obscuring his view of her rear. The meager hospital gown hung loosely down under her, completely ineffectual in its duty to protect her modesty.

Sheila glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. “Hey! How was breakfast?” she asked, before turning to look down at the crowd. “Man, there sure are a lot of news hounds down there!”

Anatol shook himself while at the same time running a clawed finger around the inside of his collar, the material suddenly feeling tight against his neck. “Breakfast was quite nice,” he replied, walking over to stand next to the vixen. He reached out and gently took her arm. “You really should be in bed, you know.”

“Do I have to?” the vixen whined as she straightened and turned towards the priest. “I’m tired of sitting around in bed. It’s so boring.”

“I know, but you need to rest up,” he said, taking the IV stand in one hand while using the other to support her as she walked back over to the bed. “You want to get out of here as soon as you can, right?”

“Yeah,” Sheila reluctantly agreed, pouting. “But the doctor said it was good for me to be out of bed as long as I didn’t strain myself.”

Anatol smiled. “For short periods of time,” he said, correcting her as he helped her back into bed. Reaching down, he pulled the covers up, doing his best to ignore the large amount of fur that was on display. “

“But I’m bored,” she complained, crossing her arms over her stomach and pouting. “There’s nothing to do in here.”

“Why not watch TV?” Anatol suggested, dragging the remote for the TV up and off the floor by its wire. “I’m sure there must be something on you can watch.”

Sheila rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh yeah, like I wana watch crappy soap operas or the news.”

“I could go and get you a newspaper, or a book from the gift shop if you like,” the priest offered. “You could even borrow my Bible to read if you’d like.”

“I’m not that desperate,” Sheila growled. “Besides, I prefer romance novels to fiction.”

Anatol gasped as he sat straight up and clutched his chest with a hand. Glowering at the vixen he said in a most serious voice, “You wound me! How could you say such a thing?”

“Oh get off it,” Sheila replies, rolling her eyes again. “You ain’t angry and you know it.”

“Oh? What makes you think I’m not mad,” the priest snarled.

“For one thing, your ears aren’t all the way down,” Sheila replied. “The second is that you didn’t show your fangs, your claws never flexed and your hackles are down.”

Anatol dropped the pretense and laughed. “I guess you’ve got me,” he admitted. He narrowed his gaze and nodded at the vixen. “You’re pretty good at reading a furson’s body language.”

“Hey, I’m an actress, you know?” She cheerfully replied. A few seconds later, the smile faded as she turned to look out the window. “Besides, you learn to read a person’s body language pretty quick when they beat you for screwing up. I had to guess what kind of mood they were in and what they wanted half the time. If I didn’t...”

“That’s all in the past now,” the priest said as he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Nobody’s going to hurt you any more, or try to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Sheila glanced at him then looked away again. “I think that was part of the problem,” she reluctantly admitted. “They never once made me do anything I wouldn’t have been happy to do any other time. It was just the fact that I didn’t have a choice that made it so…so… fucked up.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself tightly at the memories. “That and the memory of what they did to Arden.” She shook her head and looked at the priest with tearful eyes. “Why would they do something like that? How could someone do something so cruel?”

“They are creatures of evil, Sheila,” he explained quietly. “They may look like ordinary males, but they are pure evil and need to be destroyed. They will feel God’s wrath some day. I promise you.”

“Yeah, right. Like that’ll ever happen,” the vixen grumbled, looking away again.

Zig Zag groaned and let out a low curse as she spotted the mob scene in front of the hospital entrance. “PT Barnum indeed,” she grumbled, gathering her belongings as the taxi pulled to the entrance. She winced at the flash of cameras as she climbed out of the cab. A moment later, she felt James join her. Together they approached the reporters with their microphones.

Question after question was fired at the pair in rapid succession as they tried to push their way through the crowd. Unable to reach the door without using physical force, Zig Zag finally held her hands up. “All right! All right!” she shouted, quieting the reporters down some. “I’ll answer all your questions, but not here.” That started another flurry of questions, which she managed to ignore through great patience and some gentle hand gestures. “Look! I’m not answering questions out here. I’ll arrange with the hospital for a formal press conference, OK?”

“Will Miss Vixen be there?”

Zig Zag looked around, trying to identify who had asked the question but quickly gave up as several others repeated it. “I don’t know. I’m going up to her room now. We’ll have to see if she’s feeling up to it yet.”

Ignoring the rest of the questions, the pair managed to make it to the main entrance and beyond where they were met by a several security guards and the hospital administrator. The administrator, a tall, thin greyhound, looked out at the mob scene and frowned. “It looks like you’ve drawn quite a crowd.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t by choice,” James replied, frowning at all the cameras. He was beginning to understand Zig Zag’s dislike of the media.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Zig Zag declared. “We tried to keep things quiet, but you know how it is.”

“Indeed I do,” the greyhound replied. “My name is Donald Westphall, though I’d appreciate it if you’d just call me Donald.”

Zig Zag took the greyhound’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Please, call me Zig Zag and this is James.”

The greyhound nodded as he shook James’ hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” James replied, releasing his grip.

“Do you prefer Don or Donald?” Zig Zag asked as they walked towards the elevators.

“Either one works, though I do prefer Donald,” he stated, pushing the button to go up.

“Donald it is,” Zig Zag declared. “I was wondering if it would be possible for you to find some place where we can hold a press conference? I’m afraid that they’re probably going to tear down the hospital if I don’t throw them a bone.”

The greyhound laughed as the trio stepped onto the elevator. “I’m afraid that you’re right. I’ll have Cathy arrange something for you.”

Zig Zag let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” Donald replied. “It’s not like we haven’t had to deal with the media before. We’ll round them up and put them in the lecture hall.”

“How many people should we expect?” James asked.

“Oh, generally about twenty or thirty if it’s just a local story,” the greyhound answered. “Since this is national news, I’d say closer to fifty or sixty.”

James’ jaw dropped for a second. “Good lord! Why so many reporters?”

“It’s not just reporters,” Donald replied, holding the door for the pair before exiting himself. “Camera men, sound men, sometimes there’s a director or some other busy-body-type person with them. It can add up pretty quick. I remember a press conference we had about five years ago when no less than one hundred and fifty people tried to get in. One of the national networks wanted to bring twelve people in for it. After that, we drew the line at three people total per organization. Ah, here we are.” He nodded to the guard outside the door before opening it for the others.

“Zig Zag!” Sheila gleefully called out while using the remote to turn off the TV. “Hey! I was just watching you on the tube!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Zig Zag replied with a smile as she gave the vixen a big hug. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Ten thousand percent,” the vixen declared. “I’m finally out of a cage and into a real room with a real window, TV and a private bathroom. Only thing missing is a decent tub.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll have you back in Columbus in no time. First thing we’ll do is take a dip in the hot tub, ok?” Zig Zag replied, giving her hands a squeeze.

“Sounds good to me,” Sheila replied with a smile.

James looked over at the other bed and frowned. “I thought you said she was being put into a private room?”

Donald nodded. “You don’t see anyone else in here, do you?” he quipped. Smiling, he again nodded. “We have a limited number of truly private rooms and none of them are on this floor. Sidney wanted to keep her up here on the psych floor for now.”

“I’m not crazy, you know,” Sheila growled. “You guys don’t have to keep me locked up any more.”

“You’re right. You’re not crazy,” the greyhound replied, pulling up a chair near the bed. “However, you have been through a very traumatic experience and we want to make sure that you’re fully prepared to reenter society. The last thing we want is for you to have a relapse in public.”

“I’m not going to have a relapse,” she declared. “I know what’s real and what isn’t. There’s no question in my mind any more. Zig Zag erased any confusion I might have had yesterday when I first saw her.”

Doctor Westphall gave her a kind smile. “I know, Sheila. I’m not arguing that point. However, we just want to take thing slowly and make sure that your return to a normal life isn’t too stressful. One year may not sound like a long time, but a lot has changed while you were in captivity. I’m not just talking about the outside world either. You’ve changed a lot too, though you may not realize it. I think we’d all rather you discover those changes someplace safe rather out in the cold, harsh world.”

“I don’t need that! I’m not crazy!” Sheila threw up her arms and let out a frustrated snarl. “I don’t need to be locked up in some nuthouse!”

Zig Zag reached down and gave Sheila’s hand a squeeze. “We’re not saying you need to be locked up. I’ve been looking into a place in Columbus where we can transfer you to. It’s kind of a halfway house for females who’ve been---raped like you have. You won’t be locked in, but the doctors will want you to attend some sessions, and they’ll make sure that you keep taking your medication. Once they’re satisfied that you’re ready, we’ll see about getting you home again.”

“I don’t want to go to a halfway house, Zig Zag,” the vixen pleaded. “I want to go home, sleep in my bed, lounge about in my house, make banana daiquiris in my kitchen and soak for hours on end in my tub! MY tub!”

Zig Zag glanced over at James for a moment before turning back towards Sheila. “Hon, I don’t know how to tell you this…”

“Tell me what?” Sheila demanded, glancing between James and Zig Zag.

“That you don’t have a house anymore,” James said, walking over to squat next to the bed where Sheila sat. “The lease on your townhouse ran out about the same time Zig was accused of your murder. Tammy had all your stuff packed up and put into storage. Someone else lives in your townhouse now.”

“She WHAT?” Sheila rubbed the bridge of her snout and snarled. “Fine! I don’t care about the townhouse. When we get back, I’ll find a new place to live, unpack my crap in there and then I’ll sleep in my bed!”

“It’s not that easy,” Zig Zag softly explained. “Since the storage rental is in Tammy’s name and only her name, we can’t get it out.”

“That’s silly. Just tell Tammy that….” Her eyes got wide as her voice trailed off. “What’s happened to Tammy?”

“Nothing that we know of,” Zig Zag replied. “She cashed out her shares in the studio and moved away shortly after that. We haven’t heard much from her since.” She glanced again at James before looking away and then back up at Sheila. “To be honest, nobody’s heard anything from her since last Christmas.”

Sheila’s mouth hung open for a moment in shock. “Well, haven’t you tried to find her?”

Zig Zag nodded. “Yes, we have. Hell, after the DA tried to say that I killed her, too, the FBI got involved and started looking for her. She told so many people she was leaving town, and the flight crew of the plane she took remembered her, so I was cleared of that, but nobody knows where she went after she flew into San Diego. According to the FBI, she bought a used car, paying with cash, and that’s the last anyone saw of her.”

“Great! Just great,” the vixen groaned as she dropped back to lie on the bed. “So do you actually have any good news for me?”

Zig Zag cocked an ear at the vixen for a moment before nodding. “You won’t have to worry about working for a while.”

Sheila frowned. “I think that’s kind of offset by the fact I’ll be in a nuthouse.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the tiger stripped skunk replied, shaking her head. “After you disappeared, I put your payroll in a trust fund along with the studio’s cut from sales of your videos. A number of the crew tossed in their cut as well. You’ve got quite a nice little nest egg going there.”

Sheila struggled to sit back up and scowled at Zig Zag. “How big of a trust fund?”

Zig Zag shrugged. “Oh, somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred and twenty.”

“A hundred and twenty thousand dollars!” Sheila barked.

“Yep,” Zig Zag said, nodding. “Originally it was just the crew contributing, but once word got out you were still alive, donations started pouring in from all over the place. Lord only knows what it’ll be like once you’re out of the hospital.”

Sheila’s eyes got wide at the thought of so much money. “Wow.”

Donald stood and passed the chair over to James. “If you will excuse me, I must get back to work. I hope you’re feeing much better soon,” he said, patting Sheila’s hand.

“Oh, I am! I am!” Sheila replied with a wide grin.

He turned to Zig Zag and nodded. “I’ll have Cathy setup that press conference, ok?”

“Thank you, Donald,” Zig Zag said, shaking his hand.

“Press conference?” Sheila asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Zig Zag replied, frowning. “Since the media found out you were here, they’re ready to storm the building. I agreed to give them a press conference so they’d back off a bit.”

Sheila nodded. “Should I be there?”

Both of Zig Zag’s ears perked up. “Do you want to be? More importantly, do you feel up to it?”

Sheila waved off the question. “Sure! I feel fine. Just find me a scarf or something to cover my head and I’ll be good to go.”

“All right, then. As long as the doctor has no objections, then we’ll see about getting you down there, too,” Zig Zag replied. A knock at the door drew her attention to Anatol who was standing in the doorway. “Hey! There you are!”

“Are you ready for your surprise?” the priest asked Sheila in a conspiratorial voice.

Sheila looked a bit confused and then simply shrugged. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“OK. Close your eyes,” he directed. He waited for her to close her eyes, then stepped fully into the room and held the door for the two nurses who were pushing a pair of small carts, each one with an infant sleeping comfortably inside. “Keep them closed,” he chided as he moved to pick up one of the infants. “Hold your arms out,” he said, grinning widely as he carefully lowered the kit into her outstretched hands.

Sheila’s eyes snapped open as she suddenly realized what Anatol was doing. She sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t do this,” she said trying to hand the infant back.

“Yes, you can, Sheila,” Anatol insisted. “They’re your kits. At least look at them before you give up on them.”

“I—I—“ Sheila stammered as the priest gently pushed the infant towards her. She looked down at the kit and saw the burnt orange and white color pattern on a face that was oddly familiar and strange at the same time. The kit squirmed a little, batting at the blanket it had been wrapped in with one hand. Sheila glanced up at the others then back down to the infant, smiling sheepishly. “She’s got his ears.”

“And your coloring,” Zig Zag chipped in.

Using the claw on her right index finger, Sheila tickled the kits chin while saying “Coochy coochy coo.” She watched as the kit opened its eyes and looked at her with black, slit pupils, surrounded by bright yellow irises, which seemed to be floating on a sea of red. Sheila’s eyes flew open as her ears lay back against her head, her hackles rising. “No!” She cried out, tossing the infant onto the bed. Panicked by what she’d seen, the vixen scrambled off the bed, yanking the IV line from her arm in the process and scrambled away from the kit until she was backed into a corner. “No! It can’t be his! It can’t be!”

The nurse quickly gathered up the kit and placed it back in the crib before checking to make sure that the wailing infant hadn’t been injured.

Anatol darted around the bed to kneel on the floor near where Sheila lay curled. “What’s wrong?”

“Keep it away from me!” the vixen spat in horror. “Keep that monstrosity away from me!”

The priest exchanged confused looks with Zig Zag who was now also kneeling next to the terrified vixen.

“You don’t understand! Those eyes!” she curled up into a ball, with her back in the corner as she watched the nurses and their charges nervously. “They’ve got the dragons eyes,” she growled in a low voice.

“Dragon’s eyes?” Anatol asked. Confused by the statement, he stood and walked over to the nurse who had again picked up the kit and was rocking it to calm it down. Carefully, the priest pried open the eyes to see normal looking, blue irises around a black pupil. He frowned and shook his head. “You’d better take them back for now. We’ll try again another time.”

“No! Don’t bring them back!” Sheila snarled. “I don’t want them! They’re not his, I tell you! They can’t be!”

“Not whose, Sheila?” Zig Zag asked, placing a hand on the vixen’s knee.

Sheila frowned and glowered at her friend. “Arden’s!”

Zig Zag looked over her shoulder at Anatol and James, giving them both a rather confused look before turning back to the vixen. “Sheila, nobody’s saying that they’re Arden’s kits.”

“Then why do they have his eyes?” Sheila demanded. “Why do they have the eyes of a dragon?”

“What are you talking about, Sheila? What are ‘eyes of a dragon’?” Anatol asked, kneeling again next to the vixen.

“You know what I mean!” she declared, grabbing the front of his frock. “Black slit pupils with bright yellow irises surrounded by blood red orbs! You saw them, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

The priest sadly shook his head. “No, I didn’t. They were the perfectly normal blue eyes of a newborn kit.”

“No! That can’t be,” Sheila cried out, holding her head in her hands. “I saw them! It opened its eyes and looked at me! I saw it! I saw it!”

Anatol took Sheila's arms in both hands and gave her a gentle shake. “Listen to me, Sheila! That couldn’t have happened,” he said insistently. Reaching up with a hand, he gently pulled her muzzle around so she was forced to look at him. “Newborn kits don’t open their eyes for several weeks. You must have imagined it.”

Sheila’s looked even more confused as she tried to digest what he’d said. “No, I didn’t imagine it. I saw it!”

“Sheila, think! Think about it,” Anatol insisted, giving her a reassuring smile. “I looked at her eyes, Sheila. They were perfectly normal. You must have imagined it. It’s your mind playing tricks on you again.”

“My mind---playing tricks again?” she rhetorically asked, hugging herself tightly.

“Yes. We both know that it’s impossible for someone’s eyes to change like that, so you must have imagined it.” Reaching out with one hand, he brushed away an errant bang and smiled at her. “Remember, we’re going to concentrate only on what can be real, not on what could be fantasy, right?”

Sheila nodded. “Concentrate on what can be real, right.”

“Good,” the priest cooed as he and Zig Zag helped her up. “Now, how about we get back into bed and rest up, OK?”

Sheila climbed into bed and pulled the sheets up around her. “They’re really not his, right?”

“No, they can’t be his,” Anatol replied. “Isn’t that right, Zig Zag?” he asked, looking at his cousin.

Zig Zag blinked and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.” She turned, walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, as she looked down at all the cars in the parking lot. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that Sheila would be able to forgive her for lying to her once again. She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see James standing next to her. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her muzzle in his shoulder as he hugged her tight.