Kirwen sat as an island within a sea of forest. Thin plots of farmland separated the town walls from the leafy embrace of the trees. With no trails leading in or away from the town, Kirwen isolated itself, becoming self-sufficient. Only those who had previously made the trek could find it easily enough. Or had enough supplies and patience.

Bard was thankful for his early departure. Mixed with the rain, his trail would be difficult, if not impossible, to pick up. The sky hardly brightened as the new day began. Thick blankets of cloud obscured the sun as it rose, bathing the world in a dull gray. Heavy rain fell upon Bards flat-brimmed hat, causing it to cascade in front of his eyes and hindering his timing to duck under a few low-hanging branches that came to meet him.

Being alone allowed his mind to wander as he walked in a half dazed state. The news of the king’s proclamation filling him with questions he could not answer on his own. Hypotheticals and conspiracies made his thoughts untethered, causing him to flinch at shadows and distant disturbances to the foliage.

Hoping to put as much distance between himself and the town, he walked through the day and most of the second without reprieve. Fatigue only darkened his thoughts and clouded his vision. It was just past midday when his legs finally betrayed him, his foot catching a raised root, his arms barely able to catch him.

He lay prone for a moment, registering what had happened. Picking himself off the softened wet ground, water squelching between his fingers, Bard pulled himself to sit between the offending tree that had tripped him and a boulder that, if he stood, sat just above his chest and as large around as a cart. Shaking his head to dislodge the murkiness within, he decided he should take a moment to gather himself before moving on, wiping the soaked debris from his face.

Looking up, Bard allowed the rain to run down his face, washing away some of the weariness.

“Could be worse. Could snow,” he mused to himself. Looking around, he took stock of his surroundings until his gaze fell upon the boulder to his left. Placing a hand to its slick surface, feeling its rough face scrape against his palm. “This will do perfectly.”

Turning himself so he sat directly in front of the large rock, he placed his other hand upon its surface. Closing his eyes, he steadied his breathing, releasing it in one enormous cloud that was swiftly beaten down by the rain. Nothing seemed to happen and Bard furrowed his brow as he pushed harder against the rough surface. Inhaling deeply, he held it within his breast and let his mind feel the boulder against his palms. He felt the coarse texture against his fingertips, broken only by the smooth scars that marred its face. He felt its solidity and unbending nature push against his own will.

The ring on his right hand released a cool, warming glow. As the moments passed, the glow became an angry red that made the surrounding air radiate and the rain steam as it got close. Bard, unfazed by the heat, relaxed the tension in his body as he felt a bend to the boulder’s will. He released his long held breath. As the air left Bard and connected with the boulder’s surface, he felt a subtle vibration, sending ripples across its surface.

As his is palms pressed against the rippling granite, beginning to sink into its surface. With steadying pressure, he began spreading his hands, coercing the stone apart. Each time he let go of it, the stone fought him, even if only slightly. The rippling would slow, and the stone began to solidify once more. The hole he had started widened and deepened inch by painstaking inch.

He molded the stone until the cavity he worked gave him enough space that he could fit in snugly. He pushed against the opposite wall of the boulder, giving him enough room to sit with a slight bend to his knees. As he released his connection to the stone, the world spun around him. He leaned back heavily and sucked in air into his lungs as though he had been holding his breath the entire time. Bard placed his hands against the ground as if it might fall out from under him.

The sound of the rain outside of his burrow soothed his mind as the world regained its usual stability. As his body relaxed, the cold seeped in from his waterlogged clothing down into his bones. Shivering, he moved his legs aside as far as he could and placed his right hand, palm down, on the floor of his shelter. This time, the stone hardly resisted and his ring only glowed softly as the stone rippled. Bard pushed the stone down until the mouth of the pit reached his elbow.

Leaving his hand inside the miniature void, he let his mind wander and think of the sun. Its warmth upon his face, the way it strengthened him and filled him with life. He reached and grabbed onto that warmth and pushed it down into himself. Light blossomed within him and crawled down his arm until it reached his outstretched hand.

The glow dimmed slightly as a bead of light dripped from his palm onto the floor of the hole. More gleaming droplets fell from Bards open palm in rapid succession until his hand was back to normal. Removing his hand, Bard looked into the pit to see the droplet had grown to the size of a large apple. It shone like a miniature sun, the surrounding air distorted from the heat.

He felt confident in his work as the rays of the palm sized sun barely grazed the top of the pit. Bard tried to get as comfortable as he could as the stone recycled the heat, his muscles loosening as his body thawed. He found as his body warmed, his eyelids grew heavier with each passing second until eventually it became too much and he succumbed to slumber’s welcoming embrace.

When Bard awoke, the afternoon gloom had passed, only to be replaced with the isolating darkness of night. The rain had stopped, but clouds still lingered, deepening the already oppressive void that stared back at him just past the mouth of his burrow.

With his travel sized sun tucked away within its own pit, its light did nothing to help. He sat and pondered his next move, continuing east with the hope no one was following him. Or he could be cautious and start heading north a ways and make a turn somewhere to throw anyone off his scent. As he let his mind wander, his stomach growled at him, reminding him he forgot to grab any supplies before he had left. He cursed himself under his breath.

Bard placed his head back against the stone and tried to stretch within his restrictive confines. With little success, he tentatively stepped into the cool night air. The surrounding trees seemed like splotches of darkness against a darker canvas. The only thing that reminded him of the trees was the breeze that rustled the few leaves that remained in the hidden canopy above.

He stretched, cracking his neck and back as he straightened them from being hunched for so long, his breath escaping out in clouds. As the knots worked themselves out, he groaned in relief.

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Bard was in the middle of trying to touch his toes when he heard the snap of a twig to his left and he froze. The silence that followed screamed at him as he lowered himself into a crouch, squinting his eyes, trying to peer out into the pitch. Nervous energy coursed through him, making his blood hot. He slowed his breathing as his eyes darted around for any movement and his ears perked, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

He was painfully aware of the lack of sound from insects or any other nocturnal creature. The stillness sent alarms through his body. After minutes of nothing happening, Bard decided it was best to be on his way. He rose from his crouched position and made his way slowly to his burrow and retrieved his hat. With a wave of his hand, he saw the light of the heated orb blink out.

As he turned his back to the boulder, his ears perked up as something scraped against the stone, but any reaction from him was too late. Something crashed into his back, forcing him to the ground. He hit the ground and rolled with the momentum of the fall, allowing himself to jump back to his feet.

His left shoulder burned and when he reached to check, his hand pulled away wet, painting his hand darker against the night. Not bothering to wipe the blood from his hand, he held out his palm and spheres of light blinked into existence, and allowed him to see ten feet around him.

He shook the light from his hand and the motes of light spread out around him and circled him in an orbit. He stretched evenly and gave him thirty feet of light to see while, unfortunately, highlighting himself at its center.

Whatever attacked him stayed just outside the reach of the light. A guttural growl spun him around. A large black mass stalked around him just beyond the light. When it realized Bard had noticed, it stopped its movement. Out of courage or hunger, it paced towards him, into the light. The creature stepped a heavy paw into the luminous ring, almost cautiously, then the rest followed.

A large dire wolf strode into the circle, and if Bard was not currently defending against it, he would have thought the creature was beautiful. It had rich, unmarred black fur that seemed to devour the light like a shadow. Large eyes of a deep orange stared back at him and regarded him with some intelligence, assessing him. Fangs dripped as his muzzle pulled back in a snarl. Its claws raked the wet ground as if in restrained anticipation.

“I would implore you to not do this. I would rather not hurt you,” Bard said in a friendly, conversational tone. The large predator almost snorted in derision as a response. “Rude.” Bard readied himself for an attack, bending his knees. "So be it.” The dire wolf circled him once more, its unblinking eyes never leaving Bard.

Bard did not have to wait long. As the wolf was almost to his back, it lunged at him. Bard had expected it and sidestepped the creature, hearing its teeth clash against each other. Firmly behind Bard, the wolf spun itself and did not hesitate to swipe with a massive paw, claws fully extended. Bard flattened himself and rolled away, hopping to his feet and facing the beast, and ran for it. The wolf froze for a moment, not expecting its prey to charge at it, but recovered quickly and lunged again.

Bard ducked the snapping maw and put his shoulder into the beast’s chest, wrapping his arms as far around as they would go. He pushed with his legs, lifting the beast as much as he could, using the creature’s only momentum to assist. Once as high as he could go, he twisted at the waist, bringing the wolf down hard against the ground, the moist soil hardly helping against the impact.

The beast yelped in surprise and pain as its back hit the ground and it thrashed out of Bards iron grip, regaining its feet and backing away out of reach. It shook its head, shaking its mane of fur violently. Its eyes rose to meet Bard once again, but instead of the steady intelligence, anger now filled them and without thought, the beast attacked. Again and again the beast lunged and swiped at its prey, but Bard would spin and sidestep just before claw or tooth could harm him.

He truly did not wish to harm the wolf, but he could try to tire it out. However, his plan was not going as smoothly as he had hoped. Bard felt himself beginning to slow, while, with each dodge of an attack, the beast’s anger grew and the attacks faster, more wild, harder to predict.

Scenarios ran rampant in Bard’s mind, none of which pleased him, but he was running out of options. He back-stepped away from a wild slash to the chest and almost lost his balance as his heel landed on a large rock, rolling his foot away from him unexpectedly. The wolf took advantage of the fluke and lunged in, jaws open. Trying to evade mid correction only made his foot slide more, nearly causing his ankle to roll out of its socket.

He barely felt as teeth sank into his left side. It was only when he collided into the boulder, pain shooting up his body, exploding in fireworks behind his eyes, as the added support helped the beast gain traction. Its jaws clamping down tighter, teeth nearly meeting in the middle. Bard let out a scream as his vision blurred. In a blind panic, he cupped his hands together and brought them down like a hammer onto an anvil against the wolfs skull.

Out of frustration more than pain, the wolf tossed Bard aside as if he weighed nothing. Seizing the brief reprieve, Bard rolled onto his back, catching his breath and assessing the wounds on his side. Ragged, torn craters met his fingertips; fortunately, nothing had gone clean through. Still, the slickness he felt in his hands troubled him.

A black silhouette filled his gaze, eclipsing all else in its path. He felt a dense weight press down onto his midsection, causing pain to ripple through his wound, causing Bard to scream. The pain sobered his vision and brought the beast’s crazed visage into clearer detail. It growled with fangs oozing saliva in a mockery of a smile as it peered down at Bard pinned beneath its massive paw. Their eyes met. The growling grew louder as Bard matched its tone. The pain melting into anger.

Why shouldn’t he kill it? It meant to do the same to him.

No. I am not an animal, I shall not die like one!

His thoughts only fed into his anger. He nearly flinched as he felt burning coming from his ring. Not daring to look away, he touched his ring with his thumb. Bard was taken aback by the burning sensation against his skin, intensifying as his anger grew. He focused on that heat, let it grow.

Growing bored with the staring contest, the wolf put more weight onto the paw that rested on Bard. The wolf tilted its head in mild curiosity as Bard did not scream but deepened his glare. Not wanting to play with its food any longer, the wolf lifted its head to strike.

As its head came down with jaws open, aimed at his neck, Bard let out a guttural cry, raising his hands under the descending predator. Just as the tooth nearly met flesh, Bard let out a guttural cry, raising his hands under the descending predator, releasing his rage along with the building heat of his ring. With a yelp of surprise, Bard threw the beast off its would be prey.

It soared through the air a short distance at bone shattering speed into the boulder. It slid top the ground whimpering and whining as Bard slowly got to his feet. With shaking knees, Bard stalked to the wolf that now pressed itself against the stone, unable to get up. Bard came closer with each step and the wolf snipped the air between them, frantically trying to ward off the threat. But still he stalked forward, undeterred. The ring on his finger glowed red. Any moisture near it sizzled into steam off the surface.

As he stepped to the head of the beast, it stopped its snapping and whining. It looked up at him now with fear in its eyes. Gone were the anger and wildness that had driven it to attack.

“I had asked nicely.” Bards tone was cold and indifferent. He raised his right hand, the ring still ignited. The wolf watched the hand go up and close into a fist. It let out one long breath, resigning itself to fate as the fist came down. The wolf closed its eyes in timid anticipation of the pain that would end him.

But it never came.

Instead, it felt an intense heat on the fur of its muzzle. Opening its eyes, the wolf saw the fist had stopped just above his head. The glow and heat of the ring gradually waned until finally being extinguished. When it did, Bard lowered his arm to rest at his side, and fell into a sitting position, nearly careening onto his back. Holding his side where the wolf had grabbed him, their gaze met once more. Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke.

“I am not a monster.”