Once I had sold the Breaker Bears to the butcher for a tidy sum (which paled in comparison to my existing fortune), I headed to the shop of Gavin, the tailor-cloth merchant I had met when I had come previously.

“Hello?” I called, ringing the small bell on the counter.

The tailor bustled in, caught sight of me, spread his arms wide and exclaimed “Ah, Lyte, my fine friend. What can I do for you today?”

“Some clothing for this young lady,” I said, indicating Tear who was standing by my side.

“Of course!” the large man said jovially, then called back into the shop “Wifey, we got a customer~”

There was a muffled thump, and a few moments later a solidly built woman came through the same door the tailor had emerged from.

“Good evening,” I greeted her, and she returned it. I bent down and looked Tear in the eye, “take your time, pick out whatever you'd like.”

She nodded and allowed herself to be led off into the shop by the tailor's wife.

A few moments of silence passed before the tailor leaned conspiratorially over the counter. “I can't help but notice the fine piece she's wearing,” he whispered in a stage whisper, “you holding out on me?”

“Relax,” I chuckled, “you don't have competition, that's just something spare I had on me, and it's the only clothing she's got.”

“An' I'd heard that you had some Breaker Bear skins to sell,” he said. I stared at him in astonishment.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked, “I came almost straight from the gate!”

He leaned back with a satisfied look on his face. “News travels fast in this town,” he said.

“Never underestimate a merchant's information network, huh,” I smiled wryly.

“So you do understand!” he exclaimed jovially.

After about half an hour passed negotiating for the price of the Bear skins, buying a few bits and pieces I needed, and talking about events in town, the curtain leading to the back of the shop opened and Tear stepped out followed by the tailor's wife, who I now knew was named Henrietta.

The young catgirl was wearing a snug fitting robe in a similar style to the one I had given her, though cropped shorter, to just below the knees instead of to the ankles, and lower cut, exposing more of her neck and some of her collarbone, the fine silvery chain of the Horseshoe Pendant visible against her exposed lightly tanned skin. The deep, dull blue of the robe contrasted strikingly against her skin and vivid orange hair. Through the opening in the front of the robe I could see that she was wearing a pair of skintight thigh length black shorts. She was still barefoot but, from what I’d heard from Gavin, beastkin typically spurned the use of shoes unless the terrain demanded it.

Tucked under one arm was a bundle which I assumed contained various other clothes.

“You look much better,” I told Tear, who averted her gaze but, unusually for her, didn't throw out a comeback.

“You wait outside, and I'll settle up,” I said, and she nodded and left meekly. As she left, I noticed that the robe had an opening to match the front’s, her noticeably better-groomed orange tail waving gently with each step.

“Did she get everything?” I asked the tailor's wife, once she had left.

“Nightclothes, underclothes, spare clothes, a cloth for drying herself, and the robe she had been wearing,” she listed off on her fingers, staring off into space, then she turned and looked at me seriously. “I don't know what the story is with you two, but that girl seriously needs some meat on her bones,” she said quietly.

“I agree,” I told her equally seriously, “and I'm working on it.”

She seemed to judge my sincerity as acceptable and nodded. “I made sure to give the material a little slack,” she said, her voice returning to her normal matronly tone, “so that she can fill out a bit without having to buy new clothes.”

I thanked her, and she waved it off. “I just can't let a fine young girl like that waste away,” she said jovially, and headed back into the shop.

I turned back to the tailor. “So, about the cost?” I inquired.

He looked around conspiratorially, and with a low voice asked, “Do you have any more of that silk?”

I tapped my chin and hummed as though making a difficult choice. “I do, but-” I began hesitantly, then just left it at that.

The tailor couldn't quite suppress a flash of concern that passed across his face, and I laughed internally.

“How about a dozen rolls of silk?” he asked, and I knew he was offering less than he would have normally started negotiations with.

“Done,” I said instantly, pulling the silks out of my world storage and placing them on his counter, then holding out a hand.

I enjoyed the look of incredulity on his face. He seized my hand firmly, the surprise being overtaken by a huge grin. “For an old merchant, you really got me good,” he chuckled, “but why didn't you push the price further down?”

“Tear seems to like her new clothes,” I answered simply.

“Ah! A satisfied customer!” he cried, spreading his arms wide, “Well, friend Lyte, do come again whenever you need something!”

“I will,” I nodded, heading out the door to join Tear outside.

I found Tear waiting just outside, and, as I approached, she hurriedly hid something in her bundle.

“Whatcha got there?” I asked curiously.

She was silent for a moment before asking cautiously “Will you throw me out of the tower if I don't tell you?”

“No, of course not,” I ruffled her hair, I was glad she was opening up to me, though she did still have moments like this where she seemed to revert back to being a tough independent street survivor. “Oh, but if it's poison, you should probably know I'm immune to all of them.”

“It's not!” she shouted indignantly

“Talking of hiding things reminds me; I forgot to tell you yesterday, but there's a hidden safe built into the wall above your bed, behind the painting of sunflowers, in case you have anything you want to keep especially safe, not that it would be very likely for anyone to be able to steal anything inside my tower. The method of setting the code is written on the inside, so not even I would know what you set it to.”

A long moment passed as Tear scrutinised what she could see of my face, hidden as it was behind my mask. “You're too trusting,” she stated with a slight sigh, seemingly accepting my sincerity.

“That may be true,” I chuckled, “but I've yet to meet anyone or anything that could kill me, and your current situation is a result of that over-trusting nature of mine. Isn't that right, Miss Stab-a-lot?”

“I only stabbed you once,” she complained, which I felt rather missed the point.

I sighed, and said, “Well let's get back home then.” I paused and swivelled to change direction mid-step, as a thought emerged from my mind. “Actually, no, there's one more thing we need to do first.”