He woke to the sound of his sailboat grinding up against the island’s shores.

Andrew sat up. He’d made it home. The sun was high in the sky. The wind must’ve carried him the rest of the way. He felt elated, but that feeling was quickly washed away by terror. He’d let the boat drift for much too long. He could have missed the island, and the wind would have kept carrying him north into uncharted waters. Andrew didn’t want to imagine what gods and demons lay in the treacherous darkness that way, so he got up quickly to drag the boat properly onto shore.

It was after that, Andrew realized just how much pain he was in. His shoulder had turned into stone, and every exertion of energy felt to Andrew like it was his last. His breathing came sluggishly, and his pulse pounded in his temples like a countdown.

He was dying. He knew this now. He needed to get back to the castle.

Andrew didn’t bother dragging the boat further up the beach. The tide was still going down, so he had at least a few hours before the waves would start coming back to take his sailboat. And as for Victoria…

Andrew glanced down the western end of the beach, where the onyx rocks stood out of the sand like its own castle, one which rose from within the surface of the world. They wrapped around the corner of the island, continuing on to form outcrops and cliffs. Andrew tried to see where his eyes couldn’t. Somewhere below one of the outcrops would be the cave he left Victoria in.

He couldn’t go to her yet. Not unless he wanted to die by her feet from his bullet wound. No, he’d have to come back tonight or dawn tomorrow.

He only hoped she wouldn’t wander and find the sailboat. He turned and trekked into the forest.

The castle’s marble spires stood stark cold against the foggy sky. Andrew found Ignar outside in the courtyard, sweeping up the maple leaves as they fell from the overgrown maples guarding the entrance to the castle.

The wolfman looked up as Andrew approached.

“You are back.”

Andrew answered by falling face-first into the nearest leaf pile.

When he came to, Andrew found himself in bed with the covers pulled to his chin. He tried to get up, but a huge fur-covered hand placed itself on his chest.

“The Boy Master needs rest,” said Ignar. “The wound is small but your courage will take longer to heal.”

“How long was I asleep?” Andrew asked. He wanted to get up and check on Victoria, but the wolfman’s hand kept him still.

“Not long,” replied Ignar. “I only just finished dressing your shoulder.” As he said this, a sheep homunculus breezed through Andrew’s vision. He saw her looking at him with those watery yellow eyes, but she quickly glanced away and continued out the door. She was holding an armful of bloody cloths and was followed by another homunculus, this one balancing a metal tray in her short arms.

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Andrew caught Ignar staring after the homunculi. He mused out loud, “Sometimes I forget your base is a wolf.”

Ignar looked at him. “Why only sometimes?”

“Because you’re smart and know a lot of things wolves don’t,” Andrew answered, “like medicine and cleaning. But then you do things like drool after a sheep homunculus and the illusion is broken.”

Ignar was silent. He seemed to take what Andrew said deeply. Even his jaw moved like he was tasting the words, trying to get at all the nuances hidden between the lines. Then he turned his yellow eyes on Andrew. “Sometimes I forget you are only a boy.”

Andrew said, “I want to ask you about Constantia again.”

The wolfman didn’t try the oblivious act this time. “I recall telling you she was a failure.”

“Is she still alive?” Andrew asked. “I want to see her.”

Ignar frowned. “I do not think that is a good idea, young master. No, that is not a good idea at all.”

Andrew pushed, but no matter how much he insisted or lied, Ignar would not budge.

The wolfman soon changed the subject. “How was the hunt?”

Andrew looked up at the ceiling. “I hate how you call my outings hunts.”

“Homunculus see no reason to dress up truths.”

Andrew didn’t answer.

“Master is recovering well,” said Ignar. “He has begun taking short walks down the hallways.”

“That’s good,” said Andrew, and tried to mean it. The ceiling was spotted with mold. Paint was beginning to crack in one corner. He fought down the shudder as he recalled the events in the town. He hadn’t realized how much luck it’d taken for him to be here, how close he was to never coming back. Still looking at the ceiling, he said, “There were complications with the… operation.”

“I see that.” Ignar pointed to Andrew’s shoulder.

“There was a detective,” Andrew went on. “People knew the girls were missing. It made taking anyone else impossible. There were also fewer people on the streets. I suspect they know of the coming storm.”

Ignar made a sound, and at first Andrew didn’t know what it was in response to, until the wolfman said, “Girls?”

And then Andrew realized his mistake. He immediately trudged on, hoping that by piling on details he can take the wolfman’s mind away from the slip-up.

“There were three constables, two were on the docks by my boat. One had a gun and he shot me. I stuck them both with the syringes. It was the only reason I made it back here alive.”

Ignar’s lips pulled back. His teeth were curved and yellow and glowed with saliva. “You said girls. There was more than the one you brought to Master.”

Andrew stopped talking. He was deathly aware of Ignar’s massive paw still on his chest.

“The Boy Master,” said Ignar, “is hiding something.”

“No,” Andrew said. “No, I’d never lie to you, Ignar.” He tried to turn away so his heartbeat wouldn’t be felt through the thin cotton sheets.

“That day, you had bread in your pockets,” Ignar continued in a low growl. “Was it for the other girl?”

“I never caught another,” Andrew said. “The other missing girls had nothing to do with me.”

“You lie.”

“I am not!”

Andrew was breathing hard now. Sweat drenched the bedsheets. He could feel the heat from Ignar’s palm, the heaviness of the wolfman’s claws pressing through into him. He tried to stay still, like a rabbit freezing in the sight of a predator.

Ignar just stayed still. Not a muscle twitched in his steel jaw. His eyes seemed to lance into Andrew’s soul, drawing out everything he wanted to hide from the wolfman.

Then, just when Andrew’s heart is about to burst, Ignar let him go.

The release was almost as painful as the pressure. Andrew coughed to cover the scream trying to come out from inside him. He couldn’t show any respite, because that’d be giving away his guilt. In his struggle, Andrew heard the door open.

Ignar was standing in the doorway. He was grinning. Andrew waited for the wolfman to say something, to growl or to snarl or anything a wolf might do, but Ignar simply nodded, then left.

Andrew didn’t know what was worse. Not knowing what Ignar was thinking, or finding himself worrying about what was going on inside a homunculus's head.