There weren’t many times Leor had to raise his voice at a woman. He never had to do so. Mostly since they avoided him all together. It was his permanent scowl and attitude that repelled them, Gerald once told him. But this one was different. She held no fear against him, no sense of malice. At first glance, Ceri was a timid, religious girl with a purifying smile as bright as the sun. She stood firmly against Leor, unafraid of a man two heads taller, and met his furrowing brows with her own.

“We are taking this child with us and that’s final,” Ceri shouted with the wolfling in her arms. She cradled the wolfling as if it were her child. The silent Edgewoods echoed back her proclamation.

“No. Do you not realize how dangerous those things are? One tried to kill us.” Leor fired back, brushing past her. He kept pace as he guided them to his forest home, occasionally checking the trunks of oak for the triangular symbol.

Ceri persisted and jumped in front of Leor’s path, shoving the pup into his view. “Look at the poor thing.” She peeked at its underbelly. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

The wolfling stared blankly at Leor with its single silver eye, oblivious to its fate of being left in the woods or being taken from it. Leor stared back. The wolfling’s eyelid slanted over its pupil, forming a permanent scowl similar to his own. “A child with the eyes of a man”, Gerald said to him the day they met. The eye reminded him of all the Edgewolves that hunted him when he was a boy. The wound and scars on his body burned at the thought.

“He will grow to be a predator,” Leor repeated. His throat squeezed out the words. He was tired of his repetitious response.

Ceri froze in place and looked Leor in the eyes with a fiery blaze that complimented the orange tint of the setting sun. The air around suddenly grew heavy. Her voice was no longer smiling. “Sir Leor, we are not predestined to become anything. We are free to choose our fates as we desire. Just as Lord Ludwig had chosen to defy the Old Ones and free humanity. Just as I have chosen to become an apprentice of faith. Just as you have chosen to be our guard. We all can make our own choices and this Edgewolf should be no different. Isn’t that only fair?”

Leor was taken aback. His words were trapped in the desert that was his throat. He looked towards Alden, who had the grin of a proud father, as he nodded in agreement with his student. It didn’t seem like he was going to be of much help in quelling her sharp tongue. Leor narrowed his eyes at her as a final attempt to break her posture. But it did little to bend her will. While Leor’s scowl was meant for submission, Ceri’s carried no such force. It was gentle and kind. He did not understand why she cared so much for a wild beast. He sighed in defeat.

“Do as you wish but do not expect me to take care of it,” Leor mumbled, turning his cheek.

With a jump of glee, Ceri pampered the Edgewolf as she pranced through the woods to continue their march. Silence fell between Alden and Leor as Ceri’s laughter faded into the distance for a brief moment.

“Admirable, isn’t she?” Alden muttered, breaking the silence as he walked alongside Leor.

Leor sealed his mouth, attempting to suppress his emotions, but the corners of his lips could not resist twisting up slightly. “Admirable” was a suitable way to describe it. He has never met a woman with such strong will.

Alden saw the subdued grin and placed his hand on Leor’s shoulder. “That girl is a free spirit. Perhaps, one day, you too will come to understand this.” smiled Alden.

The comment was lost on Leor, unsure what to make of it. But if it was one thing, Leor could sense the kindness in Alden’s voice as if he spoke true to his heart. He could only wonder if Alden and Ceri would treat him differently if they knew he was a Purblight.

Coming upon another symbol, Leor examined the stock of an oak. His finger caressed a warm, gooey substance. Blood. He rubbed the red plasma between his two fingers, then wiped them clean against the bark. It was neither fresh nor dry. Scanning the area, more blood trailed towards their destination. Large claw markings on the ground and trees followed the trail. Leor glanced at Ceri and Alden, who had a ghostly look on their faces. It must be their first time seeing so much blood, Leor thought.

As they traveled deeper, the sounds of crashing water grew stronger. So did the stench of blood and rotting flesh. Realizing this was the same direction the Edgewolves came from, Leor checked on the whelp. It shook violently and hid its face in Ceri’s chest.

What Leor feared came to reality. Piles of mutilated bodies of Edgewolves littered a cave entrance on the side of a mountain cliff, adjacent to a massive waterfall that poured its contents into the rift. Clumps of flesh and limbs were torn from their skeleton, tossed aside, uneaten. Bones stabbed through the corpses like the spikes of a sea urchin. Flies spat their grotesque fluids onto their meals, turning them a moldy green and filling the air with the scent of death. Ceri and Alden covered their mouths, choking back their urge to vomit.

The claw and teeth scarring on the rotting tissue were enough for Leor to deduce this was the work of the late Edgewolf. The leftover limbs and body parts indicated a fight of dominance, but even then, Leor had never seen an Edgewolf that tore the entire pack limb from limb. This was not normal Edgewolf behavior. The sight was truly unsettling, but he pressed onward into the cave. Into his old home that was now a wolf den. Mouths covered and noses pinched, Ceri and Alden followed closely behind him. Ceri resumed her tight grasp onto his cloak as they entered the dark.

The cave was narrow and tight but grew spacious with every couple of steps. Water from the river above seeped through the sedimentary rock and dripped echoing plops. Their boots were sticky with blood. Leor used the jagged walls to guide him down the dark path until his eyes adjusted to the cold, wet darkness. He searched the cave’s abyss. By now, he knew he’d come across an old torch. His eyes brightened when his hand came across what he was looking for, but it was a fleeting feeling. The torch was soaked, so he could not light it.

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Ceri noticed his frustration and scavenged her bag with shaky hands. It took longer than she wanted but she fished out a clear glass rod. With the press of a button along the side, the item shined brighter than what his torch could’ve done. It was like there was a tiny sun in her palm. A Licht Rod, Leor said to himself. A bitterness spread on his tongue. Part of him hated the idea of relying on the Gywn’s power, but he could not protest its use now.

Their faces sank. The Licht Rod revealed a lone decaying Edgewolf amidst the now illuminated cavern. Its fur was painted crimson with blood. Its throat ripped from the neck. Leor could tell this one was a female by the thinner fur and lack of male genitalia.

Then, the wolfling’s nose pointed up and sniffed the air. It jumped from Ceri’s arms and whimpered as it pawed the carcass for a response. The corpse offered nothing but a slight pushback from the wolfling’s constant prods. Tears welled in its silver eye. It let out a deafening howl that would make any man cower, then cuddled itself by the corpse’s still heart, unfearful of the blood.

“Mother. . .” Leor said with a shudder.

Struck with tears that have yet to fall from their ducts, Ceri and Alden glanced at him, confused by his remark. The silence was heavy as it was only the sobbing of the Edgewolf that filled the breaks between the dripping water.

“It’s his mother,” Leor emphasized before dry shallowing. “Young ones only do that to their mothers.” His voice was distant and melancholy; his eyes shared the same.

A faint prayer came from his side. Ceri and Alden mumbled prayers into a golden lightning bolt made of two three-cornered shards connected by a thin middle, the sigil of the House of Ouranós. Their voices synced with one another as if they had practiced many times before. Though Leor paid them no mind. He heard none of their mourning for the beast, only the cries of a woman. Was it Ceri or was it in his head? A question he did not want an answer to.

A tug on his garbs startled him. Ceri looked at him with glistening eyes.

“Sir Leor, are you alright?” she asked. Her voice trembled as much as her body.

Leor shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yes. . . I’m fine.” He paused to think, wondering what he should do with all the bodies. This was supposed to be their camp for the night, and he doubted the rancid smell would be forgiving. “I shall give these Edgewolves a proper burial. Ceri, Alden, you may do as you wish but do not leave the cave. Stay close by,” he commanded.

Hours passed and the moon shone bright in the sun’s place. Leor’s underclothes were splattered with wolf blood. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he stood over the last grave of the female Edgewolf. The wolfling sat by his feet, watching his work in silence as it did for every grave he dug.

Leor looked down at the wolfling. It stared longingly at the piles of dirt, not uttering a single howl. Honor the dead with a face of steel. Leor respected that for keeping your wits with you in the face of the dead was a hard thing for anyone to bear. He unearthed the shovel he took from the cave and decided to give the wolfling time to heal.

Crumbling leaves trailed after him. To his surprise, the wolfling followed behind Leor, camouflaged in his shadow. Does it not want to be alone? Another thing the Edgewolf shared with his youth. He grinned and continued on, but instead of heading back into the cave, he guided them to the rift’s edge. Leor dangled his feet over the ledge and the wolfling sat beside him, still as a statue.

The moon’s full shape was clear as day. Its sheer size looked like it could be picked from the sky like an apple from a tree. The waterfall stretched from end to end, spewing water into the rift. Sounds of the raging river faded as quickly as the water disappeared into the black gorge.

Leor’s chest felt lighter as he sat and stared at the same place he used to. Often for the same reason he brought the wolfling there. To clear his head. Only this time, his mentor would not be coming to scold him to stay away from the rift’s edge. His eyelids hooded the thought.

“Some liquor would hit the spot after such a long day,” Leor said aloud.

Of course, the Edgewolf said nothing in return, but Leor preferred the silent response. It made him feel as though he were speaking to himself. Made him feel comfortable. He paused before speaking again.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know it’s hard,” Leor said, staring at the full moon. “Death comes for all and you are one strong little monster. I’ll give you that.”

The Edgewolf cocked its head in Leor’s direction. The moon’s white reflected off its curious silvery eye. The wolf cannot fathom human speech, but perhaps it could sense Leor’s intent. Leor tried his best to keep his gaze away from the wolfling. There was silence again. He fidgeted with the grass by his hands, pulling blades one by one until he sorted his thoughts into words.

“All alone,” Leor mumbled. Quickly realizing his mistake, he corrected himself. “You, that is.” He paused. “Ceri — that feisty woman — refuses to leave you be in these woods where you belong. Where you are amongst your own kind. A place where you can find a new home.”

A sudden bark interrupted him. The Edgewolf now stood on all fours with a mean snarl. It took no words of man to understand the wolf disagreed.

“Ah, I see,” Leor chuckled, surprised that the Edgewolf understood his words and could reply. “You too, huh?” The Edgewolf seated itself again and kept facing him.

Leor lifted his hand from the ground and edged his hand towards the Edgewolf. His hands were always used to harm its kind, never to comfort them. Yet, his hand steadied the fear well. Impatient, the Edgewolf slid its head underneath his hand. The fur was soft, softer than his sheets at the inn. His hand ran through the black coat as if it were made of water. “If you are to travel with us, you must abide by my command. Understand? I don’t want you causing any more trouble.”

The Edgewolf nodded.

“Good,” Leor grinned. “Perhaps we should name you. Calling you by ‘you’ and ‘it’ would be tiresome.” He observed the wolfling's black fur and how its body blended with the shadows. What was that word mentor used to describe the night? He pondered until he recalled what he was searching for. “Yoru. How about it? You like it?”

The Edgewolf remained silent. It wasn’t clear if Yoru wagged his tail for the name or the head scratches. Nonetheless, the name suited him. Then, the snapping of twigs drew their attention. Surprised, Leor and Yoru jumped to their feet. Hand over sword. Fangs flared. Ceri and Alden popped out from the trees with their hands raised overhead.

“Don’t attack!” Alden said a single droplet of sweat inched down his cheek. The color in his face whitened more than it already was. “We did not mean to eavesdrop. We just did not want to spoil your moment.”

“Getting along now?” Ceri asked with a smug grin. She was clearly boasting about bringing along Yoru. It somewhat irritated Leor. She looked at them and giggled. “Aren’t you two peas in a pod?”

Her innocent laugh warmed him more than the summer night heat. Perhaps she was right, he thought as they all marched back to the cave for the night.