It took a moment or two for Wallace to decide his next course of action. His first instinct, of course, was to hide. He was downhill from a proven sorceress, naked as the day he was born. He may have been many things, but a warrior was not one of them. He had scrapped, of course. He knew how to throw a punch as the next man of suspect virtue. Even so, he had no illusions about how his bar-brawling knowledge would serve him, if somebody started throwing fireballs or trying to turn him into livestock or whatever the hell wizards did.
However, two things changed his plans before he could commit to them. The first was when he realized that the bobcat had not moved. She stayed where she stood, staring down at him. No drawn claws, no weapon in her hand, no muttering arcane syllables or opening portals to nightmare dimensions with her mind. She was so still that, were it not for the obvious spark of life in her emerald-green eyes, Wallace might have convinced himself that he was staring at a statue that had been erected behind him as a joke.
The second thing was those eyes, themselves. She looked down at Wallace like a predator looks down at prey. No, not merely a predator. A predator stared down their quarry because they hungered, because hunting was how they fed. This woman, with her sharp eyes and her loose little half-smile, looked like a predator who never knew hunger, who hunted her prey because doing so amused her. Wallace hated looks like that. They reminded him of arrogant watch captains, of half-drunk men in taverns who turned out to be a shitty lay. They reminded him of a wormy little thief who hated him almost as incandescently strongly as he hated him. It reminded him of someone else, as well, and now that he was thinking of her, of her...!
Running was no longer an option, now that he was reminded of her.
"A fine morning to you, stranger." Wallace put his hand on his hip, making sure that as much of his naked body was visible as possible. "I don't think we've been acquainted, yet."
"Dierdre," the bobcat replied. "We have most certainly been acquainted, before."
Wallace made a show of confusion and thought. "Hmm... the voice certainly sounds familiar, but I fear I'm drawing a blank. I imagine I would recognize a creature like you, if I'd run into you bef..." Then, with a theatrical flourish, he pretended to remember. "Ah, yes! You must've been the lass I met, when I first came to stay at this manor house!" He laughed, his tone becoming more acidic with each passing moment. "Oh, how silly of me. I simply couldn't recognize you without your legs spread."
Acting like an ass did not have the intended effect. If anything, Dierdre's look of wanton superiority only got sharper and more oppressive. "I wish to strike a bargain with you," she said.
Wallace laughed. "I know better than to strike any kind of bargain with you, Fair Child."
"You know what I am."
"Aye, I..." Wallace faltered. Remembering how he could recognize one of the fae reminded him of her. His mood soured further. "...I've had run-ins with your kind, before."
"And yet you decided to eat what I'd offered you." Dierdre's eyes danced with mischief.
"No bargain," Wallace insisted. "What now? Are you going to lay a curse on me? Or just stare at my plums and think about getting your pheasant stuffed a second time?"
Dierdre sighed. Like many of her kind, she made pretenses to being polite and soft-spoken. Being met with crudeness and poor manners would, eventually, animate her out of her statuesque mien. If not because she was upset, then merely to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.
"No bargain," she repeated, with a note of promise in her voice. "An understanding, then."
"Understand this, Fair Child," Wallace thought to accompany the statement with the crudest gesture he could think of, but thought better of it. He wanted to keep his arms and legs free, in case he needed to run. Instead, he added "Return my clothes. And Beck's too, while you're at it."
"Oh. Were those your clothes I took?"
"You're damn right, they were. I stole them, fair and square, which makes them mine."
"And now they're mine, because I've stolen them."
It was an effort of sheer will for Wallace not to show teeth. "Aye. That would be how it works, I suppose." He began to sidle away from his hiding spot. "I suppose you're here to steal what I brought back, as well."
"I am." Dierdre's smile was still placid, still as pleasant as a spring morning. Were it not for the glint of her eyes, it would be devoid of malice.
Perhaps it was unwise to play his hand like he was about to. Perhaps Wallace was making a mistake by taunting the supernatural creature in front of him. Still, it could not be helped. He was reminded of her.
"You're wasting your time," he said. "Unless you plan to steal the clothing of every man, woman and child in the village down there, I can always get more. I'm sure you could do it, and frankly it would be funny to see. At least, it would right up until the witch-hunters show up."
Dierdre continued to stare down at Wallace, her expression unchanging.
Wallace, having not been blasted apart by magic, was emboldened to continue. "All I need is a pair of trousers, and I can leave at any time. I've got my trophy, there's nothing in the house worth stealing other than a few old books and a dormouse's maidenhood. The only question here is how much of a trial you want to make it, and how badly I'll want revenge at the end."
Silence followed, after that, broken only by the sound of morning creatures stirring awake in the distance. Eventually, Dierdre spoke. "Have you spoken your piece?"
"Suppose I have," Wallace muttered, somewhat sobered.
"Good." Dierdre finally moved. Stepping off to the side, she found a large stone and, as if afraid of getting her dress dirty, she sat with a dainty, almost ritual air. Knees together, paws on her lap, back straight and chin up. She was still uphill from her prey, so she naturally had to stare down her snout at him, but beyond that she was every bit the prim and proper lady she pretended to be in the daylight.
"You have it in one," she continued. "In fact, I believe you and I had all the same thoughts. That is what I wanted to come to an understanding about."
Wallace had almost managed to sidle to one of the nearby trees. Another few feet and he would have been able to break line of sight and run. He did not delude himself into thinking she did not notice, but still he decided to play along. "Go on," he said.
"I am prepared to make you a promise."
That caused Wallace to stop. "A promise? From a Fair Child?"
Dierdre nodded. "I give you my word, rat-rake." She put a paw to her chest and closed her eyes, solemnly. "You are free to leave this place, under your own power, whenever it pleases you. I shall make no effort to bar your escape. I even promise to return your stolen effects, once you are away from the village of Chuleigh."
For longer than he would later be proud to admit, Wallace was silent. He may not have known a lot about these sorts of things, but he knew enough to know that an unprompted promise from the fae was extremely unusual. They were bound by promises, as he understood it, unable to break them even on pain of death (if they even died. Wallace wasn't sure about that.). It caught his attention, and only a minute later did it spark distrust.
"A good deal for me," he said, at length, "but what's in it for you? What am I supposed to give up in exchange for this kindness?"
"Exchange?" Dierdre's eyes opened, and she laughed. "Are you now offering to turn this moment into a deal?" She watched as Wallace bristled. Her grin was toothy. "I thought not. I have already agreed that we will strike no bargain. This is an understanding."
"Fine." Wallace folded his arms, trying and failing to assert some kind of control. He was quickly learning that being naked made that harder, as well. "An understanding. Then tell me what I'm supposed to understand."
Dierdre rose, just as daintily as she sat. Her steps down the hill made no sound and turned none of the leaves beneath her foot-paws. At last, only at the bottom of the hill, did she stop looking down at Wallace. A good head shorter than him, she actually had to look up. It did very little to blunt her menace.
"As I said," she began. "I will make no effort to bar your escape. Your escape. You may leave at any time."
Wallace nodded, more than a little leery to be within arm's length of the bobcat. "I may leave, but Beckett stays?"
"He stays." Dierdre's expression was suddenly harder, her brow furrowing like a growing thundercloud. "I will not allow him to escape my grasp. Not until I have my satisfaction."
"I've seen this before." Wallace backed away, just a bit. "This is revenge, then? Some kind of Fair Child grudge?" He had his promise. He could still run. Maybe if he was fast, he could grab the trousers and go. Morbid curiosity, however, slowly won out to self-preservation. "If I'm not a part of this, why am I here?"
Dierdre smiled, again, but her smile was anything but happy. She advanced on the retreating rat. "Because I want you to be here, rat-rake. I want you to parade your genitals in front of my prisoner, and whisper lewd suggestions into his ear, and desire his-what did you call it? His 'maidenhood?'-with all the unsubtlety you can muster." She raised her paws, fingers curled. "It torments my prisoner..." She grabbed Wallace by the chest, claws digging in to his short fur, as she whisper-snarled up at him. "...and I want him tormented."
"Fuck..." Wallace blushed. He grabbed Dierdre's paws with his own, but stopped short of pulling them off of him. "If this is an attempt to seduce me, it's not going to work."
"Will it not?"
Wallace was, at that moment, painfully aware that his cock was starting to escape its sheath. "It won't," he lied.
Dierdre let out a deep, sultry chuckle. "No need to be modest, rat-rake. You forget how we became acquainted. Could you honestly say you do not find the idea... tantalizing?"
He felt himself brush against her skirts. The linen was impossibly soft. "I... I don't know."
"You don't know? Come now." Dierdre removed one of her broad paws from Wallace's grip and placed it behind his head. She pulled him close, whispering. "You do enjoy it, do you not? The thought of a helpless stranger, naked and vulnerable as a shivering fawn. Held in place and unable to resist your predations. A prime treasure, waiting to be plucked and claimed as your own."
"F-fuuuck..."
"Honesty, mortal. I have given you nothing but honesty, this morning. Why would you hurt me by denying me the same?"
Wallace swallowed, nervously. "I-it's not that." Slowly, he pulled himself away to look into her eyes. "I just don't know what 'tantalizing' means."
"Oh." Dierdre's expression fell, somewhat.
"Does it mean hot? Because it's really fucking hot."
For a moment, Dierdre seemed compeltely stymied. "Uh..." Then, recovering, she once again fixed the rat with a confident smile. "Y-yes! Yes, I think you have the spirit of what I am trying to say."
Wallace laughed, a boyish noise completely at odds with the mass that throbbed with excitement, between his legs. Even when he tried to resume some manner of distrust, the heat remained in his eyes. "So, what are you bringing me in for, eh? You think I'm the kind of man who will ravish a stranger?"
Dierdre laughed back. "Have you truly forgotten how we first met?"
"Oh, that was no ravishing. You wanted every inch of what I gave you."
She would not respond to that. She would not respond to that. It was filthy and crass and denigrating, delivered by a disgusting mortal who insisted on treating her with patent disdain, and she would not entertain such vulgar offerings. Not today. That was not who she was, today. Perhaps later, when the object of her obsessive vengeance quest was not writhing in her claws, she would drag this rat with her into the world beyond the tree-line and let him defile her body with his filthy paws and his hot, foul-smelling seed. Today, however, she was in control. She was the predator. Not him.
"Rut him, or don't." Her expression was firm. Regal. As cold as the Queen of Winter. "It matters not to me. Your being here is good enough for my purposes. You have seen the way he trembles? The mouse fears the sight of your exposed tassel, almost as much as he fears his own. How much more would he suffer, if he knew it waggled for him?"
Another laugh from the rat's mouth. Then, slowly, he sobered. Partially, he remembered what it was he was talking to. "What did he do?" he asked. "Beck, I mean."
"Do you need to know that?" Dierdre replied.
Wallace opened his mouth. Then, he paused. Was telling him a favor? He knew enough to know that the fae turned everything into favors, and that it was bad to owe one to them. He racked his brain for the right words to say. "Er... well, you see... how am I supposed to help you with Beck's punishment, if I don't know what his crime was? Worse than that, what's stopping me from stealing the little mouse away from you, if I don't know how valuable keeping him around is?"
"You really have had run-ins with my kind, before." The bobcat allowed herself a smirk, before sighing. "The details I shall keep to myself, for if you tell my prisoner it denies me the joy of seeing him find out for himself. However, it is not he who has wronged me. A grave injustice was performed, long before your time, and the pathetic attempts of his ancestors were insufficient to give me my satisfaction. Therefore, the burden falls to him."
"Sounds rough. What..." Wallace scratched his head. "...what's getting him to run around naked all day doing to get that debt repaid, then?"
Dierdre's expression hardened. "Never you mind that. I take my payment from him however I please."
Wallace held up his paws, unwilling to push the issue.
Dierdre, upon seeing this, once again became serene and proper. "Very good. Now, then..." With a wave of her hands, the clothing items Wallace had stolen leapt from the bushes and into her waiting arms. "...I shall be taking these with me, meager rags that they are. You shall return to my prisoner and keep him company, won't you?"
The young rat did not respond, right away. It was not the sight of magic being performed that scared him. Making a bunch of clothes move was hardly an example of fell sorcery. What made his whiskers twitch was the fact that his hiding spot had been so trivially uncovered, that his stolen goods had apparently never been safe. Had she followed him? Observed him? Wallace had not noticed the slightest hint of a tail, when he went to hide the clothes. The thought had not even occurred to him, so quiet was the journey. He could handle being outclassed by a magical being, but being outclassed in matters of thievery?
It was yet another thing that reminded him of fucking HER!
"Rat-rake?" Dierdre's voice cut through his thoughts.
Wallace shook his head. Then, he attempted to feign confidence. "Of course, marm. Somebody should, at any rate." He slipped past her and headed up the hill, eager to escape this conversation and return somewhere where he might have the barest shred of confidence.
Before he could crest it, however, the bobcat's voice rung out again from the bottom. "Oh! One moment!" He turned to see Dierdre, eyes shining and lips parted in a toothy grin. "Since we are going to be working together, it seems rather uncouth of me to refer to you as 'rat-rake.' Might I trouble you for a name?"
Wallace bristled. "Do you think I'm a fool?" he shot back. "I'm not giving my true name to a Fair Child."
"I did not expect you to," Dierdre lied, her disappointment expertly masked. "Even so, there must be something I can call you by."
Wallace sighed and rolled his eyes. He thought for a moment on a suitable use-name he could throw, to satisfy her. One sprung to mind, immediately, and after a bit of consideration (and a moment to remember what she had taught him about use-names), he decided it was safe enough to use.
He stood tall at the top of the hill. Hands on his hips, feet apart, shoulders wide and head held high. The morning sun shone through the leaf canopy, highlighting his body in light that was just beginning to lose its orange tinge. He tried his best to look the part of the questing knight. Were it not for his wiry, skinny body and his complete nudity, he might have pulled it off. Failing that, however, he at least took solace in the fact that standing like this exposed himself completely to the fae beneath him. Taking a deep breath, he announced himself:
"I... am Sir Wallace of Kainsbury, slayer of the Great Wyrm Thor-Damn-a-Miss."