The Swan's Song.

Chapter 11

If you didn't, go read my profile message posted on January 21st. Good insight on my reasonings for Brixley being the way she is right now.

Art is coming, it is just slow. The current artist is a person like me and you and is going through college and life.

In May, I'll be able to reliably pay commissions for the story and I will do so. I've had people ask about Ko-Fi and I'm thinking about it. Idk though, let me know your thoughts about a Ko-Fi and I will see what's up.

XXX

"Hey, dipshit. Wake up."

Swans' eyelids shot open as he heard the words, the only thing gracing his vision being the fluorescent bulbs of the light fixture from outside the cell reflecting off the ceiling.

He was up in an instant, his boots hitting the ground and his body standing up as he looked at the cell door.

The big black wolf from Sako Squad, who carried the sniper rifle, eyed him from the opposite side of the cell with a smirk.

"I've been ordered to take you back to your room, unless you wanna stay. You look like you belong here, anyway." She said.

Swan simply looked at her, noting the quite gorgeous coat and body she had. Anthro women, according to a few brave souls inside NORAD, were highly attractive and the pinnacle of natural beauty in the world; a common sore spot for human women if those same people were to be believed.

The wolf in front of him had a slim waist and a flat stomach. He could see that through her combat shirt. Her chest had ample bust, and her thighs were powerful looking with her pants being practically form fitting despite being the ripstop material which composed his shirt sleeves.

This wolf was highly attractive.

"Maybe those guys were on to something." Thought Swan. He hadn't seen anyone on base that was unattractive, per se.

But that didn't mean he was attracted to any of them.

There is a difference between knowing when someone was pretty versus being attracted to them.

Swan wasn't certain he could ever harbor those feelings towards an anthro even if his 'dating choices' now were 'narrow and slim' much like the wolf in front of him. He could see that she was cut like an Amazonian goddess, but it didn't matter to him.

Not much did anymore.

He had been soft on a girl he thought was cute when he and her were both fourteen in NORAD. Swan was quite sure that she was dead when the civil war ended inside the bunker, and from that day forwards, he hadn't quite felt the same about relationships.

That, and he hadn't seen a human woman who was alive for the past five years.

Fighting always came first. Survival came second. Love came four hundred and ninety eighth on the list.

Or four hundred ninety ninth. Swan wasn't certain. He wasn't thankful of being reminded about such things and quickly moved them to the back of his mind with a scowl.

"You're probably weird enough that you like seeing little human boys in cages, huh?" asked Swan, flatly. The wolf dropped the smirk, opening the cell door.

"Move." She said. Swan decided that maybe a different approach would be a bit more feasible in whatever the hell his life had just become. Taking a step, Swan shook his head.

"Oh. You must be Anastasia Zhukov. The second jester in this comedy of horrors." Said Swan. He had kind of forgotten who was really who, especially when it came to the anthro's he hadn't been around quite a lot.