There wasn't going to be another Jula.

He wasn't going to let an untrustworthy person that close to him again, and because he wouldn't let anyone get close enough to prove or disprove his trust, then that made everything all nice and neat. There wasn't going to be another misplaced trust. There wouldn't be another episode of believing someone was good just because they belonged to an order he thought was good. No more turning his back on someone he thought was his friend.

That still stung, and deeply. He hadn't spent alot of time with Jula, but the time he had spent with her or around her had totally disarmed him. She had with a few short meetings totally subverted his suspicions. He was amazed that he had done what he did, now that he thought back on it. He wouldn't have put down his guard around someone else he'd known as well as her. Maybe he was just weak over a pretty young lady. Perhaps that helped disarm him, then allowed her to strike the first time he let his guard down.

Just for a fluttering instant, there was chagrin over what he did to her. He had left her to die, knowing full well that he had delivered a mortal wound. He had just walked away, leaving her to suffer in a pool of her own blood. That seemed, callous. But then he remembered what she did to him, and it suddenly didn't seem good enough. He should have clawed out her eyes, tore out her tongue, broke all four of her limbs, then driven a spike through her back and let her try to find her way out of the room. Instead, he had been merciful. Well there wouldn't be any more of that. Mercy was for the weak, and he wasn't going to be weak.

That was the old Tarrin. That was when he had the luxury to be friendly or trusting, before harsh reality had taught him some very hard lessons. Out here, in the cruel world, he had to meet its cruelty head on. He had to fight tooth and claw for what he wanted, or else he would never get what he wanted out of life.

He was getting worked up. He settled down and closed his eyes, conjuring images and memories of Janette. That was always easier in cat form. His memories of her all took place while he was a cat, and they were flavored by the cat's mind and instincts. They always made more sense when he remembered them in cat form. It never ceased to calm him down, to make him content. Just the memory of her scent, a scent that had the power to make him feel completely secure, was usually enough to bring over him a kind of temporary feeling of safety, of home, though it was a mere shadow compared to being held in her arms. When he was there, it seemed that the world was being held away, and she would be there to banish everything that made him worried or afraid. That kind of security seemed so distant to him now, the selfless, almost blind trust that only a child or an animal could have for another being. He had that kind of trust in his little mother, and to a much lesser extent, Dolanna. She too could soothe him in ways that nobody else could, not even Allia. Perhaps it was an extension of trust, a trust that she could make things right again, no matter how wrong they seemed.

Had he been in humanoid form, he would have chuckled wryly. The mighty Were-cat, so wrapped up in his self-reliance, was almost childishly dependent on others for his own sense of security. Without Dolanna, Allia, Keritanima, and Miranda around him, he would feel totally lost. Each of them had that strange unspoken power over him, the power to make him feel secure, something that he couldn't really bring to himself anymore. They were family, and Tarrin's human part was powerfully grounded in family. That was something that was strong enough to carry over, to make him want to form a new family group, so strong that it overrode the Cat's independent nature.

It was just the situation. He'd only been Were for about six months or so, and that was just a drop in the bucket compared to all the other craziness that went on after he got to the Tower. It was all still so new to him after seventeen years as a human, no matter how normal it felt. He was just what Jesmind called him, a cub, a mere child, and he had no guidance from his elders. He was adrift on a sea of chaos, with a leaking boat. That he'd gotten this far was amazing to him. It gave him just a bit of hope he'd live to get the leaking boat back to land. If someone else didn't come along and capsize him first.

The door opened, and Allia entered the room. She was wearing a loose fitting black vest that left her arms and midriff bare, showing off her brands and her tight stomach, not to mention her ample bosom, and a pair of sleek cotton trousers that hugged her full hips enticingly. Her ivory amulet was displayed proudly, standing out in stark contrast to her chocolate skin. He tended to forget how perfect, how beautiful, she really was, because he saw her every day. To him, she was just Allia, not a stunning woman of exquisite beauty and formidible strength and skill.

"Brother, Dolanna wanted you to know that we'll be casting off soon," she told him, then she seemed to notice that he was staring. "What?"

"I'm just remembering how pretty you are, sister," he told her in the manner of the Cat, a method of communication that her amulet would allow her to understand.

"You've seen alot more than this, deshida," she said with a slight smile.

"Sometimes it's not the product, it's the packaging," he told her, an old Wikuni adage Keritanima had used a time or two. He wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to mean, but it certainly made sense in the context he was using. "Where did you get those?"

"Renoit's acrobats gave them to me," she replied. "I was just glad to get rid of those Arakite robes. They were stifling. At least these fit well enough."

"The vest is a bit loose. Don't be bending over in front of any men."

"Tarrin, brother, if they want to look, I'll open the vest for them," she said bluntly. "I'm not a squeamish human girl. They can look all they want, but touching is another matter."

"They'll never ask, but they'll all want you to do that," he told her with a cat smile.

"Whatever," she said, sitting down on the bed and looking down at him. "Are you going to be alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not dead, brother. I can see that you're upset."

"I'm not upset, it's just more like I'm annoyed," he replied. "I don't know if I can take being cooped up on this ship, surrounded by strange people, for very long."

"Dolanna said it would take us about fifteen days to reach Tor," she told him. "I know that Tor is surrounded by forest. Maybe she could be persuaded to give you a day or two to yourself."

"Goddess, that sounds like paradise," he said with a large sigh. "To be surrounded by trees and green and smells again. I'd drag a Giant by the ear for a longspan for that."

"Patience, deshida," she said in a loving voice, reaching down and scratching him behind the ear. "Sometimes you have to travel the saltflats to reach the oasis."

"Patience isn't something I have alot of, sister," he grunted.

"You should get some, then," she told him. "The things I've taught you should show you the wisdom of patience."

"Maybe, but I am what I am," he told her.

"And I wouldn't have you any other way," she said with a warm smile. Allia always did know exactly what to say. Sometimes he seriously underestimated his quiet sister.

"Come up on deck with me," she asked. "I'll carry you. You don't let me do that often."

"You never ask."

"You're always in Miranda's lap," she retorted. "What is it about her that you find so interesting?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly as Allia picked him up. "Something about her just sings to me. I really think it's the Cat more than me."

"Maybe it can see something that you can't," she proposed.

"Probably," he agreed.

The air was warm, promising the arrival of spring, and the sky carrying only a few clouds. It was afternoon, nearly sunset, and the tide was falling so quickly that one could watch its retreat from the land. The four moons, which goverened the intricate and complicated tide action, had to be at a concerted point for the tide to drop so rapidly. It did happen from time to time that the four moons all pulled the tide at the same time and in the same direction, creating what many sailors and historians called the Great Tide. Be it low or high, it was always the most severe tidal movement of the seas to be seen, moving the sea in or out by as much as fifty spans of water at the northern lattitudes. Tarrin watched the tide drag the ship away from the dock, being held comfortably in Allia's arms as she and Dar shared space at the rail to watch the ship leave. The others were nowhere to be found, and the performers were all busy with getting the sails ready to be unfurled.