Crickets sang in the nighttime forest. Rite followed in Twinkle’s footsteps, focusing on controlling his breathing and watching the sides of the trail for potential danger. Cookie was behind him, with Smasher minding their backs. After three nights of resetting empty traps, the adrenaline that had given him the energy to patrol after training wasn’t there.

“I don’t get what’s tripping 'em all,” Cookie groused. “A week of patrols and all we’ve got to show is night mist? It’s killing the metrics!”

“Metrics?” Rite asked.

“Ambassador’s get hasn’t had to meet standards, huh?” Cookie’s scorn made Rite’s shoulder blades tighten. “It’s different out here, tinder.”

“Hold it.” Twinkle’s harsh whisper forestalled any response, and the team froze. After a tense moment, Twinkle jogged forward. “Got one!”

Cookie was past Rite in a flash, with Smasher following close at his heels. Rite trailed behind, watching the too-silent woods. It seemed too easy, after long nights with nothing to show for it — especially with the day patrols coming up dry, too. 

By the time Rite reached the small clearing, the animal was stunned, and Twinkle and Smasher were tugging it free of the cage while Cookie held the spring-loaded door open. Someone’s stunner lay discarded to the side; the dimly pulsing light at its base showed its charge had been fully expended, giving them an hour and a half to complete their task. The team didn’t spare him a glance as they focused on their work, coordinating in half-phrases that meant little to him. Rite studied the limp, furry form and a twinge of pity lanced his gut. The body was thin, bones visible through the stringy fur, and distended nipples promised kits somewhere. 

If they still lived.

“Stupid, irresponsible owners,” he muttered, shaking his head. “If they could see what their carelessness caused.” He sighed, acknowledging that most of them wouldn’t care — not about animals — and approached the TNR team.

“What can I do?”

“Stand there with your thumbs up your butt?” Cookie’s tone was pure poison as he strained against the trap's powerful springs. “You’re supposed to know this, tinder.”

Anger swirled through Rite’s limbs, and he opened his mouth to — finally — tell Cookie where he could stuff his attitude.

“Cookie. Enough.” Smasher ended the argument, but tension swam through the air, undissipated by the curtailment.

Biting his tongue, Rite grabbed a limb and helped pull.

A deep rasping growl provided sufficient warning for him to stiffen, but not enough to counter as a heavy body crashed into him, throwing him sideways to the ground. His skull struck the soft humus, and he had enough presence of mind to be thankful they weren’t in the rocky Sigma parcel. Rough paws shoved off him, forcing what little air remained in his lungs out, and he wheezed, watching with watering eyes as the massive canine leapt at Twinkle next.

A flash and an electric crackle drove the beast back, and Twinkle faced it with coruscating energy encasing his fists. The beast crouched, growling, before lunging forward, snapping its massive jaws. The dirt beneath its feet rippled, throwing it back down. Smasher grinned and raised her hands from the earth.

“Two for the price of—” 

“Look out!” Movement behind the tiny woman drew Rite’s attention, and he gasped out the warning. Two more beasts — one canine and one feline — leapt into the fray, with claws and teeth seeking the tender flesh beneath their black uniforms.

Rite shoved off the ground, rising to his knees, as Smasher and Twinkle both went down. His shaking fingers wrapped around the tangle-lines at his waist, and the night went still around him. Fluid like an ancient river in its well-worn bed, his hands snapped up and out, releasing the cords at the perfect moment to send them arching through the air. They looped around the canine and feline. Once the lines struck their targets, they went to work — coiling like living things around the beasts until they were left with just enough flex to breathe shallowly.

Then the first attacking beast snarled, back on its feet and ready for round two. Rite fumbled, searching for another tangle cord, but came up empty-handed. 

“Oh, sh—”

A stunner lashed out, smacking the beast’s side with a crackle of dispersing energy, and the canine collapsed in a heap. Smasher released her grip on the stunner, and the handle blinked dully in the night.

Rite sagged, gasping for air as Twinkle and Smasher shoved the tangled beasts off and rose, checking their — fortunately minor — injuries. Then he realized the constant stream of swear words coming from Cookie throughout the fight had included instructions.

“Stupid tinder, why didn’t you get this filthy thing out of the way? My team needed me, and instead—”

“Enough, Cookie!” Smasher ran a hand through her hair, standing it up in wild disarray. “We all know you’d have dropped the door before you let anything happen to us. But the kindling got to it first.”

Rite gawped at her, then at the feline with its head still inside the trap. If Cookie released the door, the spring would — 

Acid burned his throat, and he spun away from the TNR team, losing his dinner in the forgiving darkness. Once his stomach stilled, he rinsed his mouth with the body-temperature water from his canteen, and Cookie’s latest grousing came into focus.

“— expect me to leave you with this useless bit of —” The trap’s clang cut him off, but not for long. “He’s like a cure for breathing. That’s why I had to do it.”

Rite froze, attention sharpening, and Twinkle and Smasher seemed similarly caught.

“Do what?” Twinkle’s voice held a strange note that Rite couldn’t pin.

“I turned down the promotion.” Cookie glared at Rite. “I can’t trust my team to this bit of tinder.”

“My team.” Smasher’s face was unreadable as ever, and Cookie glanced at her, then away with a pout.

“Well, yeah, but…” Cookie shrugged. “It’s not his team.”

“Cookie,” Twinkle began.

“He’s right.” With his polite half-smile firmly in place, Rite’s eyes skimmed the clearing, the trap, and the incapacitated animals before landing on the small pack they took turns carrying. He crossed to it and pulled out a spare tangle-line. “This isn’t my team. Not now.” He met Twinkle’s eyes — windows that showed his distress — then Smasher’s — hooded and secretive. “Maybe not ever. I’ll leave you to sort this out among the team.”