"That's why you just brush off what you know," she said with a meek look at him. "You know I'm all but in heat, but it really doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Not a bit," he said firmly. "I know it's a part of you that you can't control. It does eat a bit at my own instincts, but it's nothing I can't control. It doesn't change what I think of you in the slightest. In a few days, that'll ease, because you'll come out of season. Just be patient."

"You know, I feel better," she said sincerely, looking into his eyes. "I guess I felt that if you knew what I was feeling, you'd take advantage of me. Not that I'd mind," she remarked unconsciously. "And right now, I feel, well… indignant. It's like I'm saying 'here I am, come take me,' and you don't even twitch."

Tarrin chuckled. "That's your ego," he told her. "Were-cat females take rejection about as well as human women do."

"It's embarassing."

"It will pass," he said. "You'll feel much different tomorrow."

"I hope so." She glanced at him. "You mean it does affect you?"

"I'm not dead, cub," he told her. "That's why it's called instinct . Responsive females produce an instinctive reaction in the male she is trying to catch. It's basic biology."

"But unlike me, you can control it." She chuckled ruefully. "It's madness. I know you don't really like me and I don't have a prayer, but I still can't help feeling… well, sexual."

"Welcome to the world of instincts," he told her, standing up. "Even with yours suppressed, do you see how they can affect you? Even without you knowing it."

"Yes, I do," she replied honestly. "I feel like a slut."

"That's a human misconception," he said dismissively. "Now you get a lesson in one thing that all Were-cats learn."

"What?"

"How to let an instinct affect you without letting it overwhelm you," he replied. "This was actually good timing. Letting you cope with being in heat is good practice for you."

"I'm so glad you think this is such a good thing," she fumed, standing up. "You don't feel frustrated."

"And if I succumbed?" he asked. "What if I did take you for mate. What do you think would happen then?"

"I have no idea."

"You'd feel that your instincts would have to be satisfied," he replied. "It would hurt you more in the long run, because you'd just be teaching yourself to submit to them whenever they became uncomfortable."

She blinked, then gave him a long look. "I guess you're right," she admitted.

"I think that's about enough on that," he said, looking down at her. "Are you ready to go?"

"Let's go," she replied, rubbing her paws together.

There was very little more instructional conversation for the rest of the night. Tarrin led Jula around, and together, they sought out and discovered twelve more ancient objects. He observed her during that time, watching as she practiced jumping from roof to roof, snuck about people's homes with surprising stealth, learned the joy that her body and its abilities could bring. She seemed to adapt very quickly, as he knew she would. Alot of what he could do was an instinctive understanding of himself, and though her instincts were suppressed, it still managed to show in her. She was a bit more tentative, maybe even clumsier, than an experienced Were-cat, but that too was natural. Cubs rarely had the same grace as their elders. Though he was only Were for a little under a year, his reliance on his nature for his very survival had given him an ease with himself that surpassed naturally born Were-cats five times his age. Jula seemed to sense this, and she strove greatly to match his effortless grace and elegance in movement. She failed, but he knew she would fail. It was the trying that mattered. Just like an animal's cub, she was copying what she saw in her parent, mimicking him in preparation for the day when she would be on her own.

The games ended on a rooftop deep in the city, about an hour before dawn. Tarrin had stopped to take out the medallion and gauge their distance from the object it had discovered. Jula was behind him, paws on knees and catching her breath. She wasn't used to such activity. She had the strength of her blood, but she had burned out her endurance nearly an hour ago. She didn't exercise that much before she went mad, and it showed in her weak constitution; her strength would never wane, but her ability to apply that strength over time would weaken if it wasn't exercised regularly. Her regenerative recovery was slowing as she tired. She was also hungry, and in her delicate mindset, letting her go hungry too long would be very bad for her. He knew it was nearly time to go back, so she could eat and rest, and reflect on what she'd learned that night.

That was when the scent reached him. It was strangely canine in texture, but there was an unnatural pall laying atop it, infusing it, a horrible smell that he likened to burning ashes and sulfur. And beneath that was that same smell of corruption, of evil, that he had smelled once before.

"Tarrin? I smell…"

"Quiet!" Tarrin snapped, standing up and putting the medallion away. That canine component to the scent marked them as those Hellhounds that Camara Tal had seen. He scanned the streets below, seeking with his nose and his ears. The scent was coming in on the wind, and the wind was coming from directly ahead. The area before them was rather old houses stacked beside one another, almost like one continuously long building facing the street running left and right. They had to be on another street, and since he'd never smelled them before, he wasn't sure how far away they were.

"What is that?" Jula asked plaintively, putting her paw over her nose. "It smells awful!"

"Hellhound is my guess," Tarrin told her grimly, squatting down and scanning the street that ran from side to side below them. "Look behind us, Jula. They may just be diverting us. They'd never come at me from upwind unless they did it on purpose."

Jula turned around, and gasped immediately. "There are men coming up behind us," she said quickly. "Men in black cloaks. Tarrin, look at them!"

Tarrin turned to look, and he saw them. Four men wearing black cloaks, and they were dancing from rooftop to rooftop with a speed and a jumping ability that defied human limitations. They were about two blocks away, and they were coming up on them fast.

Tarrin didn't like this. Four men, who may not be men, and those Hellhounds to deal with as well. If that wasn't bad enough, he had Jula with him, and he'd have to worry about her safety. Trying to go around them wasn't an option; they were too far away, and could change their direction to intercept. That only left going forward, but the owners of those unnatural scents were in front of him, and they were an unknown enemy.

"Listen to me," he said in a quiet tone, his eyes igniting from within as he prepared to either fight or flee. "I'm going to lead them off. The first time you see an opening, run. Go back to Dolanna."

"I'm not leaving you!" she protested, her own eyes flaring into radiance, and she extended her claws.

"You stupid cub!" Tarrin said hotly, turning on Jula as the first of the four men hit the roof only one away from theirs. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!" Tarrin lunged forward as that first one crossed his roof and vaulted into the air to land on the roof Tarrin and Jula occupied. The move seemed to startle the airborne man, almost as much as when Tarrin reached the edge of the roof, turned his body sideways and put his arm straight out behind him, then whipped that arm over his body to impact the man in the shoulder just short of the edge of the roof. It was vast overhanded blow, instantly changing the man's momentum from forward to straight down, and it sent the man rocketing into the alley between the two buildings, smashing into a pile of old stones and debris with a loud crash. The other three skidded to a stop when they realized that Tarrin could prevent them from landing on the roof, looking between them. Tarrin saw that they all had exactly similar facial features; they were triplets. They had a handsome face with swarthy Arakite skin, black hair, and were tall and sleek. Their scents reached him, and they seemed human… almost. There was human in it, but there was also something else, something that seemed faintly similar to what he smelled off the Empress of Arak. A smell of wrongness, but nowhere near as strong as it was in her.