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He only vaguely remembered arriving here, after tearing through the ground in order to get away from that wretched devil girl he had last met. Quickly he ate through the distance, and arrived in a copse of stubby, gnarled trees. Strange. Then again, everything seemed gnarled here, as it was marred by the presence and marks of Satan. Shuddering, Kiche crouched low to the ground, wandering amongst the trees, hoping to find a good place to hide in case that ebony nightmare came back to haunt him. She had looked injured, but it could have just been a ploy. It probably was. Everything with heathens was just some sickening game.

As he continued to slither between the trees, fumbling over roots and uneven ground, he realized he heard a voice. His heart plummeted, knowing it would belong to yet another one of those savages. There was no escaping them. Run from one, run into another, such was this new life of his. But his ears were tickled with curiosity as he began to make out what she was saying. "You should be nicer to my friends." Was she talking to someone else? Were ther two monsters out there? Where was this girl anyway?

He whirled around in an attempt to pinpoint the sound, and was suddenly confronted with the sight of a pure white heathen. Had she been behind him this whole time? Kiche wondered how bad his hearing could be if that was the case. Narrowing his eyes, he looked on the little savage, finding once more that he was not afraid. She was small, after all, just like the last one. He could probably outrun and lose her between the trees if it came to that. But that wasn't really the most important thing on his mind that the moment, to be sure. Kiche was more interested in with whom she had been speaking. There didn't appear to be anyone around.

For the first time in his life, Kiche engaged in conversation willingly, "Who were you speaking to, just now?" That sounded polite enough. But Kiche was wary, wondering if it was some trap that he had walked into. He did not take a step closer or look her in the eye, he merely casted his ginger head about, noting all possible escape routes.

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The way the wolf flinched and teetered at his voice did not surprise him. Hadn't he done the same when approached by those other wolves? Yet it was strange, for a moment, to see his own fleeting trepidation mirrored in the body of another. Especially of one with so savage and upbringing. Flickers of pity crossed his mind, and he considered shrugging them off. Was he being too hard on these heathens? This hell was all they ever knew. Was that excuse enough? He shook his head lightly, deeply confused and unsure and disgusted, but pricked his ears forward to listen to her response.

Bobcat. Kiche didn't know what a "bobcat" was. In fact, even though he had lived in a human household, he did not know what a "cat" was, although he could recall hearing the term once or twice. But when the strange heathen cast a glance at a very specific patch of snow and utter the word, "invisible," Kiche was suddenly more sure of one thing than he had ever been in his life: this wolf could speak and hear the voice of God. And he was her friend. His heart nearly stopped, as it had threatened to do on multiple occasions lately. Was his world spinning? Kiche sought to make sense of the world, which suddenly seemed so much brighter and more colorful. Bobcat. Invisible. Bobcat must be another word for God. Yes. Kiche was so sure of it.

"So you speak to him, and he just answers you? Just like that?" It seemed almost too good to be true. Kiche had tried speaking to God his whole life, and he never got an answer and never had his prayers answered. But maybe they were being answered now. A flow of ecstatic questions bubbled from his mouth, "What's it like, talking to him? Is he always invisible? What does he think of me? "
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By now he had abandoned the term "heathen" for this one particular soul. When he looked at her now, his tail waving expectantly and his faced creased hopefully, he thought only messenger of God, voice of God, saint. Of course! He should have known when he saw her white coat. She alone in this world seemed pure, although her body seemed to indicate that she lead a savage lifestyle. Curious indeed, why God would chose to make friends with someone in the shape of these heathens. Once more, Kiche wondered if this could possibly be a trap. But he had to hear more, he needed to seek reassurance from God, to atone. Perhaps this girl could help him.

She answered all of his questions carefully, slowly, saying that Pangur — this must be God's true name— could be mean sometimes. Kiche knew that. God was a fearsome entity, all powerful, and not always so loving or forgiving. He was very strict and very harsh. And apparently he only appeared in a physical form for this girl. Did she realize what a gift she had been given? Kiche envied her momentarily, and wondered why God had chosen her as a vessel rather than him. Perhaps she was more pure, more holy than he. The thought made Kiche's confidence waver, and he felt very small in the eyes of God, before this dove of a girl, even if she was much smaller than him.

Next, she introduced Kiche to Pangur, which Kiche thought of as unnecessary. God was all knowing, he needed no introductions. But perhaps it was just a matter of formalities, so he shrugged it off. However, watching her face closely, he noticed she frowned. His heart nearly broke. God hated him, he knew it. God knew about that fight in the forest with that other heathen, God knew all of his sins and hated him for it, God knew how unclean he was at the moment. Kiche was suddenly very embarrassed and realizing how very unworthy he was in the eyes of Pangur. However, the little angel lied and said that Pangur thought he was fine. Kiche would have to make do with that. Perhaps he could repent and make up for all of his horrible actions of the past few weeks.

It appeared to Kiche now though that this pure angel was looking for a name with which to call him by. He volunteered it easily, smiling, even, "My given name is Kiche." He paused for a moment, feeling a pang of homesickness, "But you can call me Fatman. That's what I usually go by." Saying his true name made him feel a little better, and his tail waved happily behind him. "And what is your name?"

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how very fitting for this occasion :3

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She had never had a nickname? That struck Kiche as strange. Humans had nicknames for everything. There was the "potty" and, the car was named "bessy," and the neighbor's children had been "those rascals." He didn't think it was possible for her not to have a nickname. "That's ridiculous," he said with an almost childish giggle, slightly embarrassed when she reached out to touch him with a paw, "You got to have a nickname. Everyone has one, even if they don't know it. I bet yours is Angel." Suddenly, inexplicably, his ears tilted backwards and he retreated inside of himself. He felt weird. Calling her angel felt weird, even if he had said it in his head just moment ago. Something was different about saying it out loud.

His heart, now on a roller coaster it seemed, rose joyfully when she told him that Pangur liked his nickname. He was very proud of it, and always had been. To know that God approved, though... that was something he could hardly put words to; but he could put a smile to it, a very deep, radiant beam. But the smile faded slightly at her question. Live here? No, Kiche didn't live here. He lived at his house with his masters, wherever that was. How could she call this hell-hole home? How could she like all of this... wilderness? This was all very confusing, almost too much for Kiche to take. He began to answer her slowly, wondering how exactly to respond, "No, I'm not from here. I'm lost. I don't like it here. It's so scary." Kiche was so like a child now, the way his head hung and his tail fell. "I can't even find any food or any way to get home. This place is like hell. I guess I'm being punished." He glanced over at the place Aisling had indicated Pangur to be sitting, wondering if God would tell her about all the horrible things he'd done, if she'd leave him when she knew he was no better than all those other savages.

"Please don't leave me. I'm scared."
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At first she seemed a little confused and unsure of her nickname, which made Kiche feel even stranger. Had he said the wrong thing? But no, she called it funny. Kiche didn't really see the humor in it, since Angel was a very pure and devout name for a pure and devout wolf, but laughed along with her. A team. Yes, he thought, A team, us against the world. Maybe we can do something to rid this place of these awful savages. Maybe we can tame them. But he kept those thoughts to himself, thinking that the topic would have to be broached at a later time. Not now, now was a time for introduction and merriment. Oh how good it was to be with a believer!

Kiche did not catch the look she exchanged with Pangur. But suddenly he was very, very aware of how close she was as she whispered to him. An uncanny chill shuddered down his spine visibly that he could not quite account for. It wasn't that cold. However, he was awoken from his hazy reverie by her abrupt cry of pain. His firebrand gaze fell on where he assumed Pangur was —which was, to say, wherever Aisling was looking— wondering if he had hurt her. And why. Fingers of confusion tugged his mind this way and that as he sought for some sort of answer. Nothing made sense. But Pangur was a malevolent God, and perhaps never needed to explain anything to anyone.

But all that was forgotten when he felt the brush of Aisling's pale fur leaning into him. He became very acutely aware of how small she was, how innocent she seemed. The way that Aisling gasped when he said "hell," was a kick to Kiche's heart. Yes, he had known it was a bad word —one of his many sins— but it was the only name for this place that he knew. And he had all the world to be afraid of. Apparently, she thought otherwise. Strange, strange, strange. Always this strangeness. There was another feeling growing from the depths of his chest when the angel took a seat next to him, leaning against him. This feeling was the strangest of all, and Kiche was torn between how he felt about this feeling. It had been a long time since he had had such platonic contact... although, parts of it didn't feel so platonic. Should he be so close to an angel? Did he deserve this? "I don't think I'm very good, Angel. Pangur knows. This world is so... strange to me. Foreign. Evil. Do you know why no one else can see Pangur but you? This place is full of heathens. Bad wolves who do bad things, and that's what scares me. But lately I don't know if I'm any better than them. And that's why I think you'd leave me. But I don't want you to go, you're the only one I've met that... I feel I can trust. If Pangur chose you, I know you must be good."
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