It had been the faint drag marks and bent grass that had finally 
led her to find the boy as he huddled in the darkness of the overhanging 
foliage.  His eyes stared out, faintly glimmering, animalistic and bleak.  
He was shivering in the chill night air, his usually neat robes ragged and 
bloody.  A cut over his eye had bled, matting his dark hair.  

	"Mousse?" she ventured.  He did not respond.  "Come out, boy!"  
Still nothing.  She heaved a long-suffering sigh, and hitching her own 
robe, crawled in under the bush.  The branches rose just above their 
crouching heads, interlacing and weaving in a dim tapestry that shut out 
the stars.  She reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, but as she did
he started, throwing himself back against the side of the bush.  Ling 
crawled further, reaching out again with a calming hand.  "Hush..."  He 
seemed to come back to himself for a moment, recognition in his eyes.  

	"Master...  I--"  Desperate sorrow warred across his young 
face, and settled into a kind of bleakness, a dead gaze that beseeched 
her to explain why the world was so cruel and cold.  
	"Hush," she said again.  "I know."  Taking his hand, she led 
him unresisting from the leafy cave.  He followed like a zombie, 
stumbling mindlessly after her.  

	He remained that way for two days.  Sitting in the darkest 
corner of Ling's hut, he stared bleakly into the fire and did not move 
to eat or sleep.  She bound his wounds, and left him alone.  {I'm not 
going to coddle the boy.  Besides, better he comes through this on his 
own...}  Still, by evening on the second day she was beginning to worry.  
{That spoiled little brat of Cologne's may just have ruined one of my 
best students.}  She leaned against the wall, staring at Mousse for a 
long time.  The cut on his forehead was healing nicely and so were his 
other injuries; one of the benefits of being young.  {It really was his 
own fault, and yet...}  She began to prepare the evening meal, vaguely 
frustrated with herself for no reason she could fathom.  {Poor Mousse.  
I suppose you never heard the old Amazon joke.  The only thing more 
useless than a gentle man is a bucket with a hole in it, and you don't 
have to explain things to the bucket.}

	She chuckled quietly to herself, but her amused air faded 
quickly.  She had seen this coming.  Mousse had been mooning over the 
girl for years, but she had always refused him, despite his persistence.  
Lately her refusals had been getting more violent.  Ling put a little 
more force into her chopping.  She -knew- Mousse could defeat the 
little hussy easily, Ling had seen to that.  The boy learned fast, 
and practiced hard.  Cologne's girl might possibly become skilled in 
time, but right now all the girl was capable of was brute force. 
{And yet here we are...  I told him.}  

	She scowled, dashing the chopped pieces of vegetable into the 
broth and admonishing herself to be realistic.  {Since when do the 
words of an old woman weigh anything against the blindness of young 
love?  I suppose I can't really blame him.}  Ling began shaving flakes 
of ginger from the root with quick, sure strokes.  She found it a lot
easier to blame the little blue-haired hussy, who seemed to take an 
uncommon joy in not only defeating Mousse, but in going out of her way 
to abuse and humiliate him.  Of course, Cologne wouldn't tolerate the 
slightest hint that her favorite great-granddaughter might be
out of line.  Ling threw down the ginger root in disgust, abandoning 
the attempt at cooking entirely.  {I swear, Cologne bends over backward 
for that girl...}

	Ling sat lotus-style on a cushion across the fire from the 
motionless young boy, chin in hands.  Both stared into the crackling 
flames.  {That great-granddaughter is Cologne's only weak point.  
Unfortunately I'm in no position to take advantage of it.  Even if 
I managed to remove Cologne, the other elders are so cowed by her...}  
"What to do, what to do..." Ling muttered to herself.  A slight 
rustle broke her train of thought.

	"Master?"  Ling looked up to see Mousse staring at her, 
sorrow in his eyes.  "I'm-- sorry!"  The boy stumbled over his words, 
pouring them out like water.  "I-- she-- why does it hurt so much?"  
Tears trailed down his face, and he subsided, looking utterly miserable.  
Ling hunkered down, staring into the fire again.  

	"Yes.  I told you, but like any pain it can't be described 
with mere words.  Your heart aches, young Mousse.  Welcome to a new 
day."  She sat up in a decisive motion, spearing him with a 
calculating glance.  "I have only one question to ask you, boy.  Do you
still love her?"

	He stared at his hands.  "I--"

	"Do you still love her?"  Her voice was a bit sharper.

	"No!"  He sat up, his eyes blazing.  "She hates me, and now I 
hate her!  I thought she cared about me, I thought that she was just..."  
Mousse ground a fist into the dirt.  "Why should I-- -How- could I 
love someone who treated me the way she has?  I feel broken, Master!  I 
feel like a useless toy that someone has tossed aside because they've
tired of it.  I never want to see Shampoo again!"

	"Good."  Ling beckoned the young Mousse to her, looking him in 
the eye.  "I want you to promise me something, Mousse.  I want you to 
continue to pursue Shampoo."

	"WHAT?"  He sprang up in shock.  "Why?"  His mouth firmed.  "No!  
I won't do it!"  

	"You dare defy your master, boy?"  Ling's eyes glinted, baring 
a bit of her true steel.  "You will do as I ask.  You will continue 
to play the lovestruck young fool, Mousse.  You will create the illusion 
that you still care for her.  I realize this is asking much of you..." 
 
	"Asking much?  It's -too- much!  I won't!"  Mousse shouted.  
"How could you ask me to do such a thing?"  

	Ling drew herself up, stern and forbidding.  The small woman 
fairly crackled with intensity, and her battle aura was almost visible, 
flaring faintly along her skin.  

	"You require reasons?  All right, I will give you those reasons, 
young Mousse.  Because it will advance your training in the Hidden 
Weapons style greatly, although that is merely a side benefit.  
Continuing and maintaining deception and illusion is an aspect of the 
art you have barely touched upon.  Because I require someone to be close 
to Shampoo.  Whether or not she likes or dislikes you is immaterial, as 
long as she tolerates your presence, because it is Shampoo that is the 
only soft spot in that cauldron of iron that Cologne calls a heart.  
No matter how harshly Cologne may treat her, she -needs- her.  And that 
is a weakness I intend to take advantage of; not now, but when the time 
is right.  But finally, because I am your master!  I have never valued 
blind obedience, so I am -asking- you to do as I say."

	Ling sighed, and the fire went out of her, leaving her looking 
merely tired, a tiny wrinkled woman who rubbed her shaven head with a 
tanned, scarred palm.  "I apologize for being so forceful, but this is 
important.  I can't allow Cologne to remain in control of the tribe; 
she is too harsh, too unbending, too bound by tradition.  She refuses 
to accept change, and in the end that may kill us all.  Unseating her 
from control of the Joketsuzoku will be difficult, and most likely take 
a long time.  I still feel that her love for Shampoo can be used 
against her, and for this I need you.  But it is your decision.  
Choose what you will.  I'm going to sleep."  

	Turning her back on Mousse, she marched into the sleeping 
room and rolled herself up in thick blankets.  Sleep eluded her, and 
she tossed restlessly for hours, her thoughts racing.  Finally, she 
heard a soft footstep in the doorway, and lifted her head.  Mousse stood 
there, a skinny dark shape against the dying embers of the fire.  

	"Master?"

	She remained silent.  He knew she was awake, Ling was sure she 
had taught him well enough.  
	"I'll do it.  You have my word."  He turned and was gone.  Ling 
laid down her head and expelled a sigh of relief that she hadn't 
realized she was holding in.  {This will change everything...}  The 
old woman slept.

	*	*	*