The Stray

Snow fell in fat, lazy flakes spiralling from curly clouds above.

I stood on a cobblestone street filled with white stone and red brick, imperial and Slavic style buildings. Crisp, winter air bit at my cheeks. I looked down at myself, feeling somewhat confused as to how I got here.

A heavy gray wool coat with thick wooden buttons, a scratchy scarf, thick pants and sturdy leather boots sat on my body. I took a step, packed ice crunching under my feet.

“Comrade Emperor,” a playful voice called out.

I turned. It took my brain a moment to recognize Sage. The Skinwalker looked like a foxy prad, standing tall on digitigrade legs, wearing a stylish, belted beige trench coat and a matching beret with a red star perched jauntily between large, russet fox ears. Her tail swished behind her, brushing against the dusting of snow on a wrought-iron fence featuring a hammer and sickle logo inside of a star.

“Sage?” I asked.

“In the fur!” She winked, offering me her gloved arm. “Welcome to Laika’s dream of 1950’s Moscow.”

“A… curious place,” another voice noted. “A few linear notes in the aether… with a heavy sprinkle of magitek and looming entropy behind the curtain.”

I turned my head.

On my other side, Galateya stood examining a snowflake that had landed on her gloved hand. She looked like her human self featuring pale skin and jet black, straight hair. The eyes remained undeniably hers, luminous violet irises glowing ever so slightly from within. She wore a dark blue coat with a thick fur collar.

“Where are we going?” Teya asked as we started walking, looking around at the vintage 50’s round cars chugging past us across the snowy road. A few pedestrians walked past us, humans and prads walking arm-in-arm, laughing and talking in Russian.

“Cafe Pushkin,” Sage said, pointing a clawed finger toward a warm, golden glow spilling onto the snowy sidewalk. “Come on, don’t let the frost bite.”

We walked into the cafe. A brass bell chimed above the door, announcing our arrival.

The interior was a sanctuary of warmth. Polished wood paneling lined the walls, reflecting the glow of crystal chandeliers.

We sat at a small round table near the large front window.

“This is nice,” I said, unbuttoning my coat as the heat of the room washed over me.

“S’ how she remembers the good parts,” Sage said. “Before the cage and the fire. The parts she wanted but never got.”

“Where’s Laika now?” I asked.

“On her way,” Sage said. “She’ll be here soon. She paws at the window of this fine establishment before heading to cry alone in the icy, side street. Then Comrade Vladimir meets her and promises her the world and seals her fate dooming her to dungeon-servitude.”

Teya sighed as she took her coat off.

“Someone looks pensive,” Sage elbowed Galateya. “Whatcha thinkin’ bout, my draconic BFF?”

“You lied to an entire room full of prads,” Galateya muttered, looking at me. “Told them that you are the Slayer. I don’t know how to feel about this deception.”

“I told a story,” I clarified, “One they wanted to hear. Wattica needed a reason to defect that didn’t make her look weak. And Comet needed a reason to surrender that didn’t shatter her worldview completely. I… connected the dots, that’s all.”

A gray coated commissar in a red cap approached our table, feline claws tapping at a nagan sitting on her leather belt.

“Morning ladies and Slayer of my heart,” she stated.

My mind momentarily careened sideways at the unexpected voice I recognized instantly.

“Nexxy,” I said, looking up at the Serval prad girl with a smile.

“Yeppers.” The commissar grabbed a chair and slid into it. “Mind explaining where I am?”

“Yes,” a tall, imposing, female figure stepped out of the shadowed alcove. I recognized her too. It was “Annie”… the Valley-girl bully human dream-version of Shady. Her human face looked similar to the high school nightmare, except here she was blonde, pale and had silver-gray eyes. She pulled off a white, lush winter coat with an imperious look and occupied a chair next to me.

Shady’s arm wrapped around me in a choke-hold style tight embrace. “Where are we, Skinwalker?” she demanded at Sage.

“We are inside the persistent, looping soul-dream of a very lonely, sad prad doggo,” Sage replied, snatching a sugar cube from a porcelain bowl and popping it into her mouth. “Specifically, the Stratanavigator of the Sleigh Warship Dungeon. Welcome to the deep subconscious of Laika, also known as Rudy the Herald of See-Mass, the Harbinger of Festivus.”

“A dream dive?” Shady tightened her grip around me, making me let out a strangled noise. “You pulled my consciousness out of my beauty sleep for a date in a Soviet cafe?”

“Princess, we are here to prevent the world from being turned into a dungeon,” Galateya stated, “also, please don’t smoosh my… boyfriend so hard. He’s obviously not enjoying it.”

Shady stared at the dragon challengingly and smooshed me even harder. “I found him first. I’ll smoosh him as much as I wanna! Fox, I want answers. How did you pull me across the Astral to a dog’s dream?” Her naughty face snapped to the Skinwalker.

“I did no Astral pullery, Miss Shades,” Sage said, rings of fox-eyes igniting above her head. “You two are an unexpected addition to our Laika-dream-inception. We are currently in the deep Astral and as far as I can determine… you are here because… the five of us are cosmically entwined with the power of multiple Dagaz runes linking our souls.”

I wheezed, tapping the human-Wendigo’s arm to loosen the chokehold. “Air. I need it.”

Shady released me ever so slightly. “Do you now, Mister Cosmically-entwines-himself with sus foxes without my permission?”

I sighed.

“The fox is funny,” Nexxali chortled. “Also, I am digging the local aesthetic,” she preened, adjusting the red commissar cap in the reflection of the window. “Very authoritarian… Shoot first, ask questions never.”

“You look like you are about to arrest someone for thinking about capitalism,” I commented, ignoring Shady’s silver glare.

“I might,” the Serval purred. “If the price is right. So, Slayer of Ships, we are doing a mental heist?”

“We are doing a seduction,” Sage corrected. “Operation Good Girl.”

“Seduction?” Shady raised a dark eyebrow. “Ashy, haven’t you seduced enough Omnids and prads this week? A sadge dog seems like a poor addition to the collection. Also you already have a dog-themed Prima.” She pointed at herself.

“You’re way too bossy for a dog. Also, it’s a… strategic seduction,” I expressed, weaponizing Shady’s own joke. “Not romantic. We need to convince her to defect before she helps Saint Nikky turn Earth into apocalypse-mass.”

“Uh-huh,” Shady poked my cheek with a sharp nail. “I am sensing an unhealthy-for-someone’s spine pattern here, Ashy.”

“Collecting virgin maidens is a perfectly healthy pattern for a young Emperor of his stature,” Sage commented, making Nexxali laugh out loud.

“I… see what you’re doing,” Galateya said sharply, the texture of her human skin momentarily rearranging itself into steel-gray scales.

“What?” Shady tilted her head at the human-shaped dragon.

“You’re scaring him,” Galateya said. “Making him think that you’re going to hurt him.”

Shady pursed her lips. “When did you become the group’s Sherlock, rainbo-scalie?”

“When I learned to wield the Sword of Truth,” Galateya stated, fractal frost spreading around her fingers across the table. “You’re hungry and you’re in pain, but that’s no reason to terrorise Ash here and now. Please stop before I freeze you to the nearest wall.”

“Oh? You think you can take me on?” Shady released me, glaring at Galateya.

“Absolutely,” Galateya said. “I am whole and… I have the absolute love and devotion of a Dreamwalker Knight armed with fourteen thousand souls. Your soul is torn, sheared and boiled in entropy and your Knight is a mere prad, not an Omnid Archmage Skinwalker capable of breaching the dimensional divide. You are no match for me. You posture like the Queen to hide how much you’re hurting.”

Shady opened and closed her mouth. The pompousness seemed to drain out of her in a flash. She blinked at Teya, crossing her arms. Sparks of tears flashed at the edges of her eyes.

“Jeez,” Nexxali chortled. “Our dragon babe grew a spine and is using it as an Astral Sword. What do you know! I’m impressed.”

“And you, Marshal,” Galateya addressed the Serval, making Nexxali’s fur bristle ever so slightly. “You… are hurting too. You’ve bathed yourself in Entropic songs, ground at your soul for decades, ground at everyone and everything around you to break your chains. Plotted and pawed at, twisted events all for us to end here, together in this cafe. Are you satisfied with your feline game?”

“Muchly,” Nexxali answered with a tongue click. “It do be going great. I appreciate the jib of that Truth-sword. Sword me harder, why don’t you, babes?”

Galateya’s eyes flashed brilliant violet, reality between us wobbling with violet refractions at the edges of each object and person.

“You… Leviathan’s CUNT!” Galateya swore, eyes growing wide. “What have you done?”

“What?” Shady asked, looking between the shocked-looking dragon and the smug cat.

“I’ve done what I needed to do to get free,” Nexxali said. “Some of us weren’t privileged enough to be born as Omnids. Some of us had to claw our way up to victory for a long-ass time!”

“You…” Galateya hissed. “You can’t just… do you even realise what you’ve done?!”

“S’already done and there’s nothing you can do to stop it,” Nexxali stated with an extra-smug tone. “Too bad, so sad. Cry me a river, darling.”

I looked at the window, partially ignoring their bickering, which probably had something to do with Nexxali making dastardly plans for our odd circle.

The street outside turned gloomy as twilight settled over the Soviet capital city, turning the snow blue.

A dark figure stood on the other side of the glass, separated from us by a thin pane and a world of difference.

She was small, lanky. A teenage prad girl with floppy dog ears and patches of white, brown and black fur. Her clothes were raggedy. A torn, muddy, oversized jacket hung from her thin frame, offering little protection against the cold. She shivered, clutching her arms around herself.

She cautiously, slowly pressed two paws against the glass, leaving foggy prints on the cold surface. She stared at the warm interior of the cafe, at the patrons enjoying warm tea, coffee and pierogi.

She wielded a look of such profound, awful longing… that it made my chest ache.

Laika. The stray who wanted a home. The girl who traded her life for a false promise of belonging.”She’s here,” Sage’s voice whispered inside my head. “Show her what she missed, Ash. Be the goodest boy. Incept hope into her heart, derail her doomed narrative.”“Me?” I thought back, suddenly feeling mildly nervous at the prospect of the upcoming, potentially awkward social situation. “Why me? Aren’t you the Astral-inception-master here?”“‘Cus you’re the Slayer,” Sage’s voice stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you can slice through things that nobody else can.”“Uhm,” I thought. “What if she speaks Russian? What if I don’t understand her?”

“This is a dream, bruh,” Sage stated out loud. “I’m altering the general weave with the skulk. She will understand you and you will understand her. Also, I’m pulling us deeper to resolve our… personal issues as we’re making way too much magical noise being mildly annoyed at each other for stupid reasons. Toodles.”

I glanced at the spot where the Commissar and the ladies sat just a second ago. Their chairs were now empty, the coats gone.

I looked back at the girl in the window. Her gaze finished its trail over the patrons and suddenly settled on me.

She flinched as our eyes met, ready to run, probably expecting me to shoo her away or yell or bless her with a hostile look the other cafe patrons were giving her.

I smiled at her.

The prad girl froze. Her breath hitched, creating a larger cloud of fog on the glass. She stayed there, shivering in the snow, watching me in the warmth, unable to tear her eyes away from the possibility of a different life. Her tail wagged ever so slightly.

“Reel her in,” Sage whispered from nowhere. “Buy her a drink and noms. Be as honest as possible, but vague enough not to wake her up. Your pockets are full of rubles. Spend away!”

I raised my hand and beckoned to the shivering girl.

It was a small gesture. A simple wave of a hand. To the stray on the other side of the frosted glass, it seemed to carry the weight of a royal decree. Her eyes widened. The white line of fur heading up her muzzle twitched. She looked behind herself, checking if I was waving at someone else in the snowy street.

The street was empty save for the falling snow.

I pointed at the empty chair across from me. Then I pantomimed drinking from a cup.

Laika hesitated. Her paws left the glass. She took a step back, looking at the door, then back at me. The longing in her expression warred with a lifetime of rejection.