(This scene contains content some might find upsetting. For a list of content warnings by scene, please check the chapter titled “Episode 2.5: Duxon”)
Tobei didn’t know where he was, nor how long he had been there.
It was dark. He pressed his hand into the surface he was sitting on—cool stone. Blessedly cool stone. Immediately, he slid to the side to press his throbbing head, his hot cheek to the floor and let out a sigh. The floor tilted and wobbled like he was at sea, but he was familiar enough with the sensation that he knew he wasn’t. Just very, very drunk.
Once the cool stone had done all it could for him, Tobei took a slow, deep breath with parted lips to taste the damp air around him, hoping it would provide a clue as to where he was. He tasted the whiskey oozing out of his pores, a lot of musty earth, and herbs. Lots of herbs, of all kinds.
Of course. He must be in the infirmary’s storeroom.
Whether it was shame that turned his stomach or simply whatever he’d consumed in the last few hours, he wasn’t sure. Almost certainly it was both.
What had he done?
His first instinct was to find more of whatever he’d been taking so he didn’t have to look anyone in the eye when they found him like this. When Kadie inevitably found out how much he’d robbed from her. From the people in camp who were actually sick.
Oh no.
Tobei’s eyes flew open, his monster’s vision seeing the outlines of shelves and barrels even in the darkness, which served only to make him more nauseous as they tilted and spun around him. Luelle’s medicine. No, no, no. If he’d taken it, if he had actually stooped that low…
Disgust, self-loathing shoved its way up his esophagus, threatening to burst from his throat. But he kept his jaws clamped shut. He had to know. And after he knew for sure, then he could puke his guts up all over this fucking floor.
Tobei pushed himself, very slowly, back to a sitting position, his back against the wall. He felt around him—he was crouched in a corner of the storeroom under a shelf, behind a barrel. Hiding like the fucking coward he was. Trying so hard to keep this shameful display far from the camp’s eyes, even as drunk as he’d been when he crawled back here.
He could never seem to get drunk enough not to care. Or maybe he did when he blacked out, but just couldn’t remember.
He stretched his legs out, preparing to crawl out from under this shelf, when one of his feet knocked against a bottle that rattled and rolled across the floor. He froze. No. No no no no—
Tobei grabbed the bottle and picked it up. Sure enough, it was Luelle’s medicine; he could tell from the size, the faint blueberry smell wafting from the cork. But … it was still corked. He lifted the bottle to his ear and shook it, listening to the joyous swishing of a full bottle.
But, Tobei wasn’t ready to let himself off the hook yet. There were other bottles he might have drained, of Luelle’s medicine or the pain potions or any number of other concoctions. Still, it gave him enough hope to make his way out from the corner and veeeeeery slowly into a standing position. He felt around for one of the glowstones set into the wall and flicked it to quietly wake it without waking any of the others. He didn’t want the light under the door to alert anyone to his presence. He also didn’t want the sudden light to make his head explode.
A faint orange glow filled the room. Perfect.
Tobei looked around—too quickly. He had to grab onto a barrel to steady himself. The next time around, he was much more careful. He took in the floor—an empty whiskey jug … and that was it. Relief was beginning to buoy in his chest. He felt sure that whatever state he’d been in when he’d broken in here, it wasn’t one where he’d think to replace any plundered treasures neatly back on the shelves. To be sure, he made his way around the storeroom, along each shelf, opening each box and making sure nothing looked out of place. He found the rest of Luelle’s medicine—all full.
Apparently, he’d come in here with his own whiskey jug, grabbed one of her bottles, and had either decided not to take it, or, more likely, simply passed out before he could. Relief rolled off him in sheets of whiskey-scented sweat.
Still, he wasn’t proud of coming in here in the first place. Of being in this condition right now. And … there was something else. He felt it chewing away at the back of his brain, working its way steadily toward the front. Something had happened, and it was his fault. It was why he’d gotten so wasted in the first place.
Just like that, the shame was back, burning cold from the crown of his head down, down, over his whole body. Every inch of his skin, every bone in his body felt it.
What was it? What had he done?
Tobei pressed his hands, then his forehead into the stone wall, and let his eyes drift closed. The sick squirming in his gut told him to turn back, to stay in sweet ignorance for as long as he could. But he knew the chewing in his head wouldn’t stop until he faced it, whatever it was.
So he thought back. Followed his Chaotic mind from the forest outside to a stream to Jac to the tree Ben had grown for her to the party Tobei had planned—
The party.
The wave of shame crested and broke over him, flooding his nostrils and mouth, burning his eyes, filling his lungs.
It had all been his idea. To have a party, to have it on the ground. Every fucking person in camp had told him it would be a bad idea, but he’d made it happen anyway. There were children there. Luelle could have been killed—Tash almost was. And even though they hadn’t been, the beast had, and Tobei had watched Belle’s heart break. Right in front of him. He’d seen how furious Jac was. How conflicted Daivad had been.
Belle had been so terrified to tell her story, but she’d done it anyway. So well. If the beast hadn’t been able to interrupt the meeting, the camp would have sided with her, he knew it. But now…
All of this was Tobei’s fault.
No wonder he’d ended up in this storeroom.
Tobei could feel the spiral beginning—that wave of shame becoming a riptide that sucked him under toward a whirlpool he knew he wouldn’t survive. That he shouldn’t survive. He was ready to quit fighting the current, to let it drag him down into the oblivion he deserved, when the storeroom door opened.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Daivad stared at Tobei.
Tobei stared at Daivad.
Daivad squinted, taking in Tobei’s pathetic state, his no doubt horrific scent, his wobbling stance. Then untied the canteen from his belt and shoved it at Tobei.
“Drink that,” he ordered, then started to move around the storeroom, grabbing supplies and dumping them into a bag.
Tobei pressed his back against the wall, relishing the coolness of it through his shirt, and drank obediently, small sips at first. The storeroom wasn’t large, and Daivad was. Maneuvering his shoulders past shelves and stacks without sending bottles crashing to the floor was quite a task, especially with Tobei standing there, but he performed it well.
“Someone hurt?” Tobei asked, when he was sure he could safely let words out of his mouth without letting anything else out too.
“No.”
Tobei watched him carefully. His face was as empty as ever, his voice just as monotone, but Tobei knew Daivad wasn’t handling the recent events well either. Daivad stunk of a whole mess of emotion scents, and he wore his lack of sleep as dark circles under his eyes. And if no one was hurt, then Daivad could only need a stash of medical supplies for one reason.
Bandages, a few simple potions and salves to clean wounds and fight infection, and—a handful of the energy pills that they handed out like candy back in the army. Daivad tried to conceal what he was stuffing into his bag, but Tobei could tell, if not by sight, then by the scent or sound. Daivad was packing for what he expected to be an eventful trip, it seemed. And, of course, there was the fact that he had a cloak on—the man never put anything around his neck or shoulders when he was just going around camp.
It made sense. While Tobei avoided his emotions by drowning them, Daivad did it by killing them. Very, very violently.
When Daivad had finished his packing, he slung the bag over one shoulder and wordlessly grabbed Tobei’s arm and hauled him out of the storeroom.
“Blegh.” Tobei had meant to say something like “I’d name that idea a bad one, brother. I’m quite sick and we might both end up wearing whatever’s left in my stomach,” but the short, involuntary noise that came out of him instead communicated the sentiment adequately, and Daivad continued to drag him out of the infirmary and up to the forest, though he did make sure Tobei was facing away from him as he did.
“Mother Dark,” Tobei mumbled miserably as early morning light assaulted him. Bless these oversized trees, because just thinking about facing true sunlight made him wince.
After giving Tobei a moment to adjust to the morning light, Daivad resumed hauling him forward. He knew what came next. The stream, and the bucket.
Sure enough, the trees parted to reveal the clearing—and Ben’s little tree in the middle of it, the yellow flowers around its edges now looking slightly wilted. Tobei noted the hesitant stutter in Daivad’s step as the stream came into view, but Tobei’s vision was still wobbly enough that he couldn’t tell what had made Daivad pause. It wasn’t until Daivad had pulled him right up to the stream that Tobei noticed the neat square of cut earth just before the roots of a tree, and the stone slab that rested on it.
Clarix — a good monster
Shame sizzled up Tobei’s neck all over again, and without any more guidance, he stripped down to his underwear and dropped himself into the cool water of the stream. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the grave, then flopped backward until he was fully submerged. The shock to his system took him fully out of his head for a moment—all he felt and all he thought was the cool water on his skin and the smooth stones against his back. He wanted to stay here and never think again.
But a large, rough hand was pulling him back to the surface, as always.
Daivad guided Tobei back to a seated position, his hair plastered to his face, and a little, very wet burp slipped out of his mouth. His words a little gummy, Tobei said, “I love you, brother.”
“Then don’t puke on me.” When Daivad had fetched the bucket Tobei didn’t know, but suddenly he was shoving it into Tobei’s hands.
Another small burp. “… Do my best.”
Then he hunched forward and emptied his stomach.
After the stream, Daivad dragged Tobei to the kitchen and ordered him to sit at a table. Daivad was one of the only people brave enough to enter the inner kitchen, especially when Doll was busy cooking, and Tobei, lying slumped over his table, listened to the heated argument between tiny chef and giant asshole with a faint smile on his face.
“—Cain’t just barge in here an’ start grabbin’ shit!”
“It’s here to eat, isn’t it?” Daivad asked as Tobei heard him opening the big stone coldbox.
“At meal time, when it’s served. If just anyone comes burstin’ through that door liftin’ this, that, an’ the other, suddenly I’ll only have empty plates to pass out. You can wait on that bell just like the rest of us, you fucken tree. Maybe if you ate a normal amount you wouldn’t scrape your scalp on every ceiling.”
“‘Like the rest of us’?” Daivad asked. “Every time I come in here you’ve got a spoon in your mouth. And it hasn’t done anything to help you see over the counter.”
Doll sputtered for a moment, searching for a comeback. “I—I don’t … It’s taste-testing!”
“Right.” Before she could argue further, Daivad disarmed her with, “Tobei’s sick. The broth’s for him.”
“Oh.” The shift in her tone squeezed Tobei’s heart. “Well, why ain’t you say so? Give it here. And don’t think I ain’t seen the rest ‘a the shit you swiped.”
Once Doll had prepared Tobei a quick little soup, Daivad brought it out to him and they sat eating in silence (aside from Tobei’s slurping). Daivad wolfed down some dried meat, his usual travel snack. Tobei had been sure the moment Daivad finished his food, he’d be gone—it was clear he wanted to be gone. The man couldn’t sit still. His leg bounced, he cracked his knuckles at least five times, kept shifting in his chair, which cried in protest every time like it was in physical pain beneath his bulk. But he stayed at the table, sending Tobei the occasional appraising glance.
Whatever it was Daivad was looking for in Tobei, he seemed to find it just as Tobei had made it halfway through his soup. Suddenly, with a squeak of relief from his chair, Daivad stood and said,
“Tell Ben I’ll be back within a week.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to leave.
“Week?” Tobei asked, his mouth feeling much more under control now. “It won’t take you a day to catch them, much less seven.”
Daivad stopped, but didn’t turn. After a moment, he said, “I’m not going after them.”
“After what, then? Can’t be a camp. Not with your sides bare like that.”
“When’s the last time I covered my sides?”
“I’m not talking armor, I’m talking allies. Brothers.”
But Daivad didn’t answer. He just said, “Tell Ben,” and left.
Tobei didn’t hurry to finish his soup, or even to make his way back to his own house. He packed his own bag, grabbed Nani’s case and strapped it to his back, hauled out Kunin’s old military saddle, and wrote a note to leave in Ben’s house, and made his way back to the forest floor, all at a very hungover pace.
He didn’t have to hurry. When he whistled, Kunin was there in a flash.
Tobei set aside the saddle and threw his arms around Kunin’s neck while the Wolf did a happy, impatient little dance in place. “Of every Wolf in the world, I’d name you Fastest, Ku. Don’t forget to slow down sometimes, give the world a chance to admire your beauty, yeah?”
Kunin huffed, excited. The sight of the saddle told the Wolf it would be quite a journey, and he was ready to run.
When Tobei released Kunin, he saw Drauge trailing along behind, tail up, looking around for Ben.
Tobei gave Drauge an apologetic scratch behind his ear. “Sorry, bud. I swear it won’t be long you have to wear the name of Lone Wolf, alright? A week or less. Kunin and I gotta keep the Traitor Prince from getting his own ass killed.”