“Tai needs antihistamines to able to come within twenty metres of any animal living or dead,” Faol stated.

And the Hyena was right out, which left…maybe Em? Not the Ocelot: by all appearances she was friendly and kind, but there was always just the slightest chance she was waiting to slip a knife in her back. “Alright,” Orfeus said, and then rethought. “How do you know that?”

Faolan frowned, weighty, judging, like Orfeus was the source of all the problems on Earth or at least all the ones that affected Faol personally. Then he nodded, some decision reached, and turned abruptly on his heel and strode away. After a few seconds he stopped to shoot her a black-browed look, beckoning.

“You can’t always assume I’ll follow you,” Orfeus said, to her back: Faol had turned around again. Orfeus shrugged and tagged along.

As they entered the room, Faolan hung his mask up on a hook, and the lupine face seemed to glare at her as Orfeus trailed uncertainly in.

Faolan’s room was considerably larger than hers, and she couldn’t claim favouritism when most likely it was a matter of seniority. O’Hallow had said Faol might have been here since he was very young. Looking around, this certainly didn’t look like a room someone had grown up in. Surely Luga hadn’t started his protégé off in a cupboard like all the rest.

But maybe.

And if so, then Faol had earned this: space to prowl around in and to hang weapons on the walls. He seemed fond of all types of weapons as far as Orfeus could tell. There were two axes, one battered and old, another a blunt-curved handle that would glow with a sharplight edge when activated. A long staff ended in a feathered blade, not unlike Orfeus’s baton. Beside that was a….whip? Next to that were claws like those Faolan wore now, but made of what looked like pig-iron. If there was a bed, it was in the next room. Lucky Wolf, getting a den with more than one room. Orfeus certainly didn’t resent it in the least.

Her eyes fixed on the wall and she frowned. A wolf pelt hung up in pride of place next to Faol’s weaponry, all grey and brindled. That didn’t look like false fur.

Splodge made a yowl of complaint. “Me too,” Orfeus agreed in an undertone, but loosened her grip, which had gone reflexively tight. Faolan turned, frowning a question. Orfeus nodded at the pelt, summoning up a smile that came out wintry and sharp. “You people have a lot of nerve.”