this is after pray for you, i know that much... but can we say this is after the puppies are born?

Honestly, he worried about her sometimes. No, most of the time. See, Aisling was such a happy creature, so keen and eager to believe in things like "silver linings" and "the good side" of heathens. Kiche had yet to find it in him to believe in these things. If Pangur had asked him to, that would be another thing, except he thought he could remember Aisling saying that Pangur didn't really like anyone. Thus, he didn't have to be as nearly as accepting and happy as Aisling was. Instead, he took it upon himself to watch her, to try an take care of her, because God forbid she get herself mauled by one of these strange heathens. Kiche, after all, had nearly had his tail torn off.

And this was why he followed her out of the cult's forest.

He should have called out, probably, and walked with her. But something stopped him. Perhaps she was going to meet someone, or something like that. He was suspicious and paranoid, even more so since he had been attacked. Therefor, he follow her at a distance, trying to be as quiet as possible. That did not stop him, of course, from cracking the occasional twig or tripping over the roots that had gone awry. But she hadn't seemed to notice him. The angel just kept walking, floating blithely through the forest and sticky, nasty waters that sucked as his legs. Thus far, she had met up with no one.

Or had she? Eventually, the stumbled upon a glorified puddle, and Kiche could vaguely make out her exclamations. Her excitement warmed his heart. It was so like her, to get excited about silly little things like this big puddle. But just then, as Kiche stood there, concealed in the forest, he noticed a massive brown shape coming towards her. Was this what she had come to see? Angrily, he decided he better put a stop to this. "Aisling," he called, trotting out of the forest, "What are you doing?" His tone was accusatory as he shot a look at the grumbling hulk that loomed ever closer.

i lol'd so much while writing this

The manner in which she greeted him was innocent and sincere enough, but Kiche could not be so sure. What if she decided she didn't want to kiss Kiche anymore? That she's rather kiss this gigantic brown mass because it was bigger and stronger and more capable of protecting her? Did she have that in her? Kiche couldn't say. He had the damnest time trusting anything in this strange, profane world. But he would rather assume the worst, of course, because he had been born a pessimist. He nudged roughly at her shoulder as if he hadn't even heard her, whispering, "Aisling, why are you doing this? Do you not like kissing me?" His orange eyes sparkled coldly as he stared at her, waiting for her to turn around and face him and come to her senses.

"Quit staring at the damn thing and look at me!" his voice rose dangerously, he was impatient. "We need to talk!" About a lot of things. Not just this... new fellow she had taken a liking to, but about the wolves back at the cult. She needed to know about the attack, and about what had happened at the puppy den. And about what Borden had promised him. Because of course Pangur would need to be there for the puppies, too. He would have to be introduced to them soon. After all, he was God.

Now that the young mountain had come closer to take a drink, Kiche could get a better look at him. Honestly, he was terrifying. It looked as if it were mostly muscle, partly fur, and all rage and badassery. That was disheartening, since Kiche couldn't figure out how he was supposed to compete with that. Sure, he was very devout and very very good, and he always tried his best... but... What if Aisling liked her men rough and rugged? He sagged visibly under the weight of this thought. Do I just give up?

But suddenly a great big black bulb was wavering before his face, bumping the tip of his nose, and he told himself he needed to relax. She really was saying all the right things. Why was he doubting her? Of course she likes me. He exhaled suddenly, unaware that he had been holding his breath at any point, and let his fur lay flat once more. Things were going to be okay. As long as Aisling liked him and he had the puppies, everything would be okay. He needed to have both, otherwise... well. He had no idea, but he really didn't even want to consider the possibilities.

His angel was talking again, and his attention jumped back to the present, to reality. When she mentioned bear and angry simultaneously, the gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on him. Or, well, the "angry" part, yes. The "bear" part? Well, that raised a red flag in his mind, and it sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps Aisling would know? "Bear?" he gulped, turning to look at the earthen boulder.

s'okay if i play the bear a little bit, yeah? :P oh man this was amusing to write

Thirst apparently sated, the bear took up it's ambling walk once more. Slouching closer, ambling nearer. It was not that it was headed directly at the two morons, but anything within a mile radius was simply much too close. His anger abandoned in the face of a dun, hairy Armageddon, he only felt the icy-finger grip of terror running down his spine. He looked over at his little white angel as she spoke to him. "Uh-huh. You can fight it!" What? He didn't like the way she was looking at him suddenly. Fight it? Was she insane? How could he possibly fight a BEAR? Where had she gotten such a crazy notion? Except then he remembered. It was a snippet of conversation from months back that played in his head, repeating over and over, an eerily happy broken record.

Angel: Fatman, have you ever fought a bear?
Idiot: Oh yes! I have, Angel. Tore it's head clean off!


Tore it's head clean off. At the time, he had thought she meant those stuffed animal things that his masters had given him. Looking up at the bear now, he could not see an ounce of likeness. There was no stitched on smile or button eyes. Only barely concealed yellow fangs and beady black-holes, pin pricks of darkness. This was not what he had meant. "But Aisling," he replied feverishly, desperate to put an end to this silly idea of hers, "I ca— " But that was only a moment before Aisling jumped out in front of the bear.

""Hey! Bear! Go away!" Too late. Much too late to do anything.

If it hadn't seen them before, it had seen them now. It's monstrous head veered slowly, catching sight of the little white wolf that had appeared before it. Everything was very still for a moment. The bear did not move, almost as if it hadn't actually seen her. Then it gave a ground-shuddering roar that tore the air. Kiche's whimper was completely drowned out, and his bladder exploded in sheer horror. For a moment, he just stood there paralyzed as he had often done in the face of rage and violence. Except he knew he had to do something. Aisling expected him to fight the bear off, and even if he knew he couldn't fight any sort of bear, he also knew he couldn't disappointed her. He also couldn't just let her get annihilated her.

So he threw himself at the bear, hoping to land on it's face or something ridiculous like that.

badbabdabdjsdfaksd

Midair, he heard his name, an exclamation. Obviously, the voice belonged to Aisling, but he couldn't catch what she had said. Was she egging him on? Did she want him to stop? But it didn't matter now, did it? He collided with the hairy boulder at full speed, ramming into a shoulder. But the bear did not buckle and falter as he would have assumed, in fact, it did not move it all. It was immobile, resolute, unyielding. Oh, and very, very angry. It's displeasure and rage was announced with an earthquake, a roar. The saint's resolve crumbled. "AISLING!" He squealed, suddenly ducking his head to avoid a furry tree-trunk arm that swung at his head, "AISILING RUN!"But there was no way he could fight this, so of course he ran too, bolting from under the bear, racing past the white girl back into the safety of the trees.