Pastel's mind was racing, and he couldn't control it. He couldn't control much of anything anymore. It was like being caught in a storm, in the middle of the ocean, and no longer knowing up from down. Pastel saw himself again, years earlier, spinning in a wave at the same time as the splintered hull of a boat. The surface shimmering like splinters of light. "Daaaad!" Pastel shouted, his eyes wild.

  "Shit Starf, you gave him way too much! He's completely lost it! We barely got a few sensible words out of him before he went off the rails. Now he thinks I'm his father!"

  A wolf behind replied: "Don't worry, it'll pass and we'll have our moment. It'll be easier afterwards, he'll be more tired, I tell you."

  The big stag, still close to Pastel, stroked his quivering belly. Pastel opened his mouth and yelped, looking around, still confused. The stag said, devouring Pastel with his eyes: "And I must admit I liked to see him twitch and spit with rage like that... it turned me on".

  In Pastel's mind, the whirling slowed down. He tugged at his limbs. "I'm tied up. Shit... Help!"

  "Ah, there he is again!" Said the one whose name must have been Starf.

  "Please let me go! It hurts... you don't understand..."

  "The stone, where does it come from?" the stag asked softly, in Pastel's ear, before stroking the back of his neck with his muzzle. He loved the smell of his sweat. He could smell his fear. Pastel could feel his erect sex caressing the stag's belly as he approached. Despite the cold night, a wave of warmth swept through him, chassing the disgust he first felt. What was in that potion they gave him?

  "It was given to me... after the first attack, I need to go... it's important otherwise..." Pastel's eyes widened as he remembered where he was, and to stop himself from speaking he suddenly bit down with all his might on the neck of the deer that was now leaning over him.

  The deer let out a howl of pain and leapt backwards, but as Pastel was still firmly clinging to his neck, he instead toppled the wooden structure where Pastel was hanging, as blood spurted and ran down his fur.

  "Little shit! He almost cut my throat!" Furious, he tried to crush Pastel's head, now on the ground, with a blow from his hoof, but the wolf held him by the arm, and his foot vibrated the ground instead.

  "Damn dog! Corpse's scum! Shit!" He held his neck to contain the bleeding."Don't worry we'll take care of him later, come on we'll fix you up." Said the wolf as he led the deer out of the cabin.

  Pastel was face-down in the dirt, panting in pain as the wooden structure he was still tied to kept him grounded. He tried again to free himself from his bonds, grunting. In his open mouth, the earth mixed with the deer's blood. The structure seemed to be broken and he managed, without freeing himself, to ease the tension.

  "I've got to find the stone... the brigands have driven me mad, I'm losing it I've got to..." He couldn't help muttering, still under the effect of the potion he'd been given.Pausing in his effort, he heard shouting outside. Were they coming back to finish him off? Suddenly he realized that a fight was taking place outside. After a moment, silence fell and slow footsteps approached his hut.

  Someone entered, but Pastel could only see muscular legs. He couldn't help shouting: "Go away you ugly useless fucker! Or kill me and you'll be damned for eternity!"

  "Wooow, it's okay, buddy. It's over! I'm here to set you free, don't worry. Almost all the morons are dead." Yeen bent over Pastel to untie him. The latter slowly got down on all fours, groaning, before standing up to look at whoever was standing in front of him. A large gnoll with a white belly and a brown body speckled with gray. In his coat were the bloodstains of those he had just killed.

  "Heavens, are you all right? You're full of blood!" Yeen said, holding out his hand to Pastel.

  "Don't worry, it's not mine. I'm sorry I didn't slit that sweet-smelling deer's throat, what am I saying, excuse me I... who are you? I don't know if I can trust you but what choice do I have wow that's a big sword..."

  Pastel, again had let out a loghorae of words with a look of surprise and didn't stop talking until he was out of breath. "Okay..." Yeen replied with a frown. What a strange fellow, he thought as he looked at the naked body of the fox, who was perhaps a dog in fact, or a strange mixture. His coppery coat was covered in dirt, but his eyes still shone with bright intensity.

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  "I'm sorry, it's unbearable they made me drink something... disgusting, hot... that makes me say what's on my mind, things I shouldn't say and things I shouldn't do." He blushed suddenly but looked up at Yeen anyway, sketching a faint smile.

  "Come on we've got to go quickly before daybreak, I think the one you chomped got away. You tell me your story later after you've had a bit of a rest, will you?"

  " Wait for the stone! The magic stone they took from me! Oh I should have ripped out his carotid artery, then his eyes, then his heart!" Pastel had lost his temper again but staggered, his legs still numb.

  "What are you talking about? What does your stone look like?"

  "Green, about this big. Like a big olive... or a little plum... or"

  "And who had it? Do you remember who took it?"

  "The deer... we have to go after him! It's so important! Please, we've got to find it!"

  "Wait, this thing? I found this in their loot."

  Yeen took the stone out of his bag. Pastel was stunned by the sight of his stone. What incredible luck that this gnoll had noticed this tiny stone in a brigand's camp after a battle? A little more and it was as if the stone had been found on purpose. He was certain it was still with the deer that had escaped...

  As they found Pastel's clothes torn in a corner of the hut, he resolved simply to dress in an oversized tunic, found in a half-collapsed tent.

  "It stinks of sweat... besides, this place reeks of blood."

  "You're awfully mouthy for a guy who came within an inch of dying. Hurry up, follow me." Yeen hopped nimbly out of the camp before turning to see Pastel who, despite the stimulating effects of the drink still taking effect, still seemed numb from the hours spent tied up.

  "Wait, do you mind?" said Yeen, who returned to Pastel's side and, without waiting for an answer, lifted him with ease, pressing him against his muscular chest.

  "I'm Yeen, by the way."

  "Pastel."

  Pastel clung to the gnoll's neck without adding anything. The thick, rough fur gave him warmth. As his agile carrier made his way deeper into the forest, he couldn't help but notice his scent."Nutmeg, clove, white flower, musk, red earth..." he thought.

  They retrieved Yeen's provisions, which were still clinging to a tree by the river, before moving further away. By the time they had settled a few kilometers further on, in an unassuming glen by a small stream, birds were chirping timidly and dawn was breaking through the trunks. After drinking from the stream and rinsing off his pellage, he sat down by the fire Yeen had just lit.

  "Normally I'd try not to draw attention, but in the morning fog, this light won't draw too much notice, and besides, we need it. It's been quite a night! Here, you must be hungry."

  The foxhound greedily seized the victuals the gnoll handed him. He couldn't help but squeal with delight as he savored the bread, herbs and dried meat. The gnoll, also chewing his meal, smiled at Pastel's enthusiasm.

  "And what were you doing all alone like that on the road? It's not very safe."

  Finishing swallowing his mouthful, Pastel replied, sputtering, "I'm used to it, I've spent my life on roads and trails... with my family first then... by necessity. Important things."

  "You speak like an elderly fox, how old are you, say?"

  "I'm not a fox, I'm a foxhound. And I'm 20... wow, this thing is amazing. It's the best thing I've ever eaten in my life!"

  Yeen burst out laughing, revealing an impressive row of fangs, which Pastel didn't fail to notice, with wide, impressed eyes. "What an incredible beast," he thought, barely restraining himself from saying it out loud.

  "The food's always better after the fight."

  "I don't like fighting." Pastel replied simply, as transparent as ever. He glanced at the gnoll; fire shone in his pupils. "You like fighting, don't you? You're a mercenary, aren't you? Am I wrong?" Saying his words confidently, Pastel surprised even himself. Where did this confidence come from?

  Yeen took a second to try and interpret his interlocutor's shining gaze. "Mercenary, yes..." He hesitated, "But I've got my principles. I don't accept dirty jobs. I protect honest people... and honest interests. Not like those goons who are now cold as mud."

  Pastel didn't answer, thoughtful. He didn't know if he could trust this somewhat rustic gnoll. But what choice did he have? Perhaps in exchange for the promise of a little gold, he could help him.

  "I... I need your help, Yeen."

  "I'm not taking any jobs right now. Those brigands had some valuable stuff that was worth it, but now I'm going home. I need a vacation."

  Pastel was stunned by his savior's cold response.

  "If you're heading in the same direction, we can walk together, but nothing more. I'm heading east."

  Pastel gritted his teeth, bitter. He wasn't sure what to say. After a silence filled with a few sparrow chirps, he said simply.

  "Okay. Yes."

  "Come on, get some sleep." Yeen sighed, settling himself half against a log, one hand on his sword, the other on his belt, closing his eyes.

  Pastel, too, stretched out on a bed of leaves and tried to close his eyes, but his mind was still racing. "Calm down, Pastel. He's right, you have to sleep or the rest of the day will be hell. Just breathe.

  Pastel closed his eyes and focused on his sensations, trying to slow his thinking. His breath slowed. He felt his heart throbbing in his chest, pumping warm blood through his body. He could feel the heat of the fire and the crackling embers. Behind his eyelids the dawning day... He remembered the warmth of the gnoll's arms.

  "Nutmeg, clove, white flower, red earth and... what else?"

  A wave of warmth swept through his body. His sensations still heightened tenfold by the drug, he inhaled, his breath ragged. He felt the air slip between his fangs, into his chest.

  "Nutmeg, clove, white flower, red earth..." He thought of the texture of the mercenary's spotted fur and without realizing it pulled up his tunic, revealing his body. His mind was feverish, burning with a haunting thought.