Indigo Rain by Watts Martin

breathing in the silence that ensued for several long seconds. Then footsteps came toward the kitchen.
    “I said ‘no.’ You’re not behaving like victims. Perhaps you’d better leave now,” Indre’s voice came, sounding firm. She could tell by the next noises—the solid thump, the pained wheeze, another footstep—that they’d just shoved him aside.
    More noises. A fight between both of them and the assistant? She crawled out as quickly as she could do while still moving silently, and risked a peek around the corner. Yes. Keeping herself hidden but straightening up, she looked around quickly and found her weapon of choice. She grabbed a rolling pin and brandished it like a club, then winced as too much weight settled on her injured foot.
    The second man disengaged from the fight and started to enter the kitchen, then stopped momentarily at the sight of the raccoon. “Let’s not make this hard,” he said, keeping an eye on the rolling pin.
    “Let’s make it as hard as possible,” Roulette growled.
    He tried to move toward her; she kept the rolling pin raised threateningly. When he made a grab for her she spun out of the way—on her good foot—and slammed the pin into his shoulder in the same movement. He cursed sharply, staggering.
    She grinned, breathing a little hard. Maybe dance moves would work in a fight.
    The man stepped back, then darted to the side away from her, turning back around with a chef’s knife in his hand now. Roulette’s ears folded back.
    The bell on the door jangled again. Gregir and Lisha both burst in, Alfon close on their heels. The first man looked up and backed away from the assistant baker, putting up his fists and facing the wolf. Lisha started to circle around toward the kitchen.
    When she entered, the man spun around to face her. Roulette moved forward with the rolling pin, and he pivoted, trying to hold them both at bay with the blade.
    Lisha motioned for Roulette to step back, and she stepped forward.
    “Stay back,” he said. “You’re unarmed and I will stab you.”
    She stepped forward again, eyes locked on his.
    He took a breath, then charged at her with a yell, holding the blade in front of him.
    Roulette started to move forward, but Lisha pivoted gracefully to the side, her hands grabbing his arm and adding the force of her throw to his charge. He flew into the baker’s table behind her, dropping the knife and staggering.
    Lisha moved forward again, but he limped out of the kitchen. His companion was doubled over against a wall, wheezing, while Gregir looked at him impassively.
    They both edged toward the door, while their six foes closed ranks. “You’re going to be very sorry about this,” one muttered, and they both darted outside.
    “Where’d you learn to do that?” one of the baker’s assistants said to Lisha, sounding admiring.
    “Guard training.”
    Roulette dropped the rolling pin and sagged against the closest counter.
    Lisha ran over to the raccoon, then stopped just short, arms partially out as if she were either going to hug Roulette or throw her hands up into the air. “You’re hurt. What did they do to you? Where are you hurt?”
    “Everywhere,” Roulette said wryly.
    “I shouldn’t have let you storm off like that. Gregir said you needed time alone and, and I wanted to give you that, but then you didn’t come back after two hours and—” She caught her breath. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
    “As am I,” Gregir rumbled. He seemed to be very pointedly looking away from Lisha.
    Roulette pushed herself upright again, then walked to Indre, giving him a gentle hug. “Are you all right?”
    “I think so,” he said, returning her hug. “Nothing broken.”
    “Thank you so much. You saved my life.”
    “I just did what was right.”
    “We need more of that these days,” said Gregir.



None of the three spoke much as they walked back to the Aid Society. After Roulette turned down Gregir’s offer to let him carry her to keep the