“I always read. You know how sharks have to keep swimming or they die?

I’m like that. If I stop reading, I die.”

- Patrick Rothfuss

In a walled city, the Howling Peaks and the Bloody Marks clans faced off against the Wolfgang clan who stood with the humans, ready to defend their homes and their lives.

I was frozen with fear, terrified of the next few seconds.

Then, in a flash of lightning, the backline of the aggressive werewolves leapt into the air.

Even as Bastian cried, “Armin!”, the Wolfgang militia were already leaping to meet them. The thunder rolled, more lightning split the sky and the two forced clashed together, snarling and biting, slashing and fighting.

I was grabbed roughly and dragged away from the front line. Jurgen thrust me behind a cart.

“Stay there!” He ordered and I knew to obey.

In the town square, I would be a hinderance and not a help.

I’d already done what I could.

I would have struggled to make out the difference between the werewolf clans in the daylight, let alone at night as the rain began to pour, darkening their fur until they all looked the same.

Thank goodness werewolves knew each other by scent!

The captain of the soldiers of the human city could be heard crying out to only attack werewolves that attacked humans and to hold the back line. I could hear screeches and howls, growling and whimpers and knew nothing of what was going on.

The full moon was obscured behind the opaque clouds and the only light came from the blinding streaks of lightning.

Even as one flashed, I saw Bastian and Gero in the middle of the town square fighting with raw, violent instinct. My heart twisted and my breath stalled. I couldn’t help. I could only watch them strike at each other, unable to even tell if anyone was winning. Bastian was younger and stronger but Gero had no fear of blood, human or werewolf.

He had another advantage.

To my knowledge, Bastian had never killed anyone.

“To the rooftops!”

I looked up, not knowing who cried out but saw werewolves running along the thatch.

“They’re heading for the church!”

The werewolves leapt onto the tiles and began to strike at them with their fists and powerful hindlegs.

“Jurgen!”

He was already climbing up, throwing his entire weight on the werewolves, striking them down then leaping into the church itself. I couldn’t see anything of him after that and the door was barred.

I turned to see the captain fighting a werewolf, slinging his sword at him, the werewolf, unable to protect himself from the blade edge, staggered backwards, a deep gash across his chest. He growled which became a whimper and retreated.

A body flew past my location and I screamed to see Bastian land hard against a wall. He must have been instantly bruised, winded and possibly suffering a broken rib or two but he got up and lunged back into the fray. I darted forward, keeping my eyes fixed upon him as he renewed his battle against Gero. The other alpha was dead on the ground and his werewolves were in retreat but Gero refused to back down.

“I’m going to peel your skin off while you’re still breathing!”

“Is that what you did to Dietrich and Margit?” Bastian snapped.

“Ha!” Gero spat blood out. “Christel had already killed Margit in her sleep and chased down Dietrich before gutting him. She has a real talent for mercilessness.”

I heard their words, watched them circling each other. Gero was limping but Bastian was bleeding.

“How long do you think before she’d turn on you?” Bastian demanded.

“I wouldn’t disappoint her like you have.” Gero lifted his head. “Caught your breath yet?”

“I was waiting for you to stop feigning the limp.”

Gero snarled and faked a lunge at Bastian, leaping onto the top of a house. Bastian followed, kicking at Gero as he did so, forcing the werewolf back and their fight continued above, fast and brutal until Gero knocked Bastian onto his back. I screamed as Gero launched himself into the air, coming down to put his claws through Bastian’s chest. At the last second I thought I saw Bastian roll but the two of them disappeared into the house amidst an almighty crash.

There were a few, long horrible seconds where I stood, frozen…

…when a body was thrown through the door, the wood splintering around him as he landed in the mud, his body attempting to breath in rasping, desperate gasps.

I didn’t know who it was. I couldn’t see enough detail.

Out of the gloom of the house, the other werewolf strode, limping and his right arm clutching at his abdomen while his left arm looked like it was dislocated, hanging uselessly by his side.

The fighting in the city stopped, as if sensing an end.

All gaze turned towards the sodden, bloodied pair.

And then, beautiful, brilliant, illuminating lightning gave a bold finish…and I gasped which became a sob as I saw Bastian standing over Gero.

He stared down at him.

Gero snarled something unintelligible.

His words never reached us.

Bastian struck down and hard, Gero’s body jerking and then…it slumped into the mud and moved no more.

I pulled myself to my feet, clinging to the eaves of the roof nearby.

“Bastian…”

He heard my broken call and turned to me.

If I hadn’t been holding on, I would have fallen.

His right eye was bloodied and swollen shut, there were gashes all over his body and the arm which he returned to covering his stomach, was smeared with blood.

He staggered on his feet, made an attempt to speak…and collapsed.

Finally my stupid freeze response let go and I sprinted across the ground.

“Bastian!”

My foot hit something and I tripped and fell hard, skidding through the mud. I didn’t have a chance to pick myself up as claws gripped my throat so tight I could feel my spine screaming.

“There’s no one to stop me now from ripping your throat out…” Christel’s voice whispered in my ear from behind and I heard the hiss of her jaws as she opened them wide…before screeching, throwing me to the ground. I scrambled to get away and looked back.

Gwen stood behind Christel, a bloody sword in her hand.

Christel turned and snarled, blood gushing from the wounds on both sides of her chest where Gwen had driven the sword through.

Gwen didn’t let her get a word out.

She stepped back and swung.

I turned away, hearing Christel’s body strike the ground…in two pieces.

I gagged in the mud and dragged myself towards Bastian. He was on his face in the mud. I tried to push him over but he wouldn’t go. He was too heavy.

“Come on…come on!” I cried.

Abruptly there were bodies all around me and in a panic, I began swatting at them.

“Don’t touch him! Leave him alone!”

“Bethany!” Gwen grabbed my arm. “We need ta get him ou’ of the mud an’ rain. My house is o’er there.”

Many willing hands picked Bastian up and carried him to Gwen’s house where he was so tall he had to be laid on an angle to fit on the bed. I pushed past the pall bearers and sat on the bed. Gwen lit candles and in the flickering light, I could see the damage was even worse than I feared.

“No, no, no, no, no…” I said over and over as if denying the obvious would make it go away. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding!”

“Bethany, tha’s a mortal wound…”

“I don’t care!” I cried. “Gwen…help me please!”

She nodded and retrieved cloth from a trunk. “Staunch the wound. I wi’ boil water an’ fetch some salt.”

I did as I was told. “Hold on, Bastian. Hold on.”

“Bethany,” I looked up to see him squinting at me with his one good eye, “it’s okay…”

“No, it’s not okay!”

“Hey…” He lifted his hand with a grimace and touched my cheek. “If you’re safe…then I die happy.”

“So I get to live miserable? What a contemptible jerk you are!”

He laughed then groaned and his body spasmed in pain.

I stood up, watching helplessly as he began to die before my eyes.

“Don’t you freaking dare!” I yelled at him.

“Bethany?” I spun and saw Armin at the doorway. His eyes dropped and found Bastian on the bed. “No…” He came forward and knelt. “This cannot be…”

“Armin,” Bastian twisted to look at him, “I need you to look after the clan.” Armin was too in shock to pay attention. Bastian hit him weakly and he looked up. “You’re alpha now.”

“Like hell I am!”

“They’ll need…an alpha…” Bastian winced. “Someone…to keep them…safe…”

“I’m not a leader.”

“You are now.” Bastian groaned and sucked air through his teeth. “Make sure…you get…Bethany home. Swear to me you will.”

“Home…”

“Swear it!” Bastian held out his one good, blood smeared hand, Armin reached for it, clasping his hand between both of his. Bastian nodded and slumped into the bed, his eye closing.

“This can’t be…”

“Home!” My cry caused him to jump out of his skin. Armin looked at me. “Armin, how fast can you run?”

“Like the wind but…”

“I need you to do something for me. It might just save Bastian’s life.”

It only took a minute to explain it to Armin who took off like a bolt of furry lightning into the darkness. The rain was beginning to ease off and the thunder was far into the distance. Gwen returned with salt, the water she had set over the fire before she’d left, boiling in the pot. She tossed in a large handful of salt and stirred it until it had dissolved. She tipped the water between two pots to help cool it a little and then we soaked the cloths.

“We’ll clean what we can ta keep any infection from settin’ in and then bind the wounds.” She explained. I nodded, mutely. “Bethany, I canna pretend tha’ he probably won’ survive no ma’er all tha’ we may do.”

“I’ve got just enough hope left for a miracle.” I murmured, cleaning a gash as gently as I could before binding it firmly. “I can’t let go.”

It took an hour to dress all of Bastian’s wounds. I was sure I had added my own tears to the salt water by the end of it.

“I ha’ ne’er known a werewolf to act so nobly.” Gwen said softly, dabbing a warm, salty cloth around Bastian’s closed and swollen eye. “We’d be dead e’en with your help if not for him.”

“He’s quite the gentleman werewolf.” I replied, trying to scrub my hands clean. Suddenly exhaustion overwhelmed me. “I can’t…get it off…”

“Soak your hands for a moment…an’ breathe.” Gwen urged and got up. I looked around the room with eyes that felt red and gritty. Gwen’s home was just one room but it was cosy and warm. She was digging through her trunk again and emerged with a pile of clothing. “Here, let me see your hands.” She cleaned my fingers and wiped away any marks of blood. “Now, change in’o these and I’ll get you somethin’ to eat.”

The clothes were a little scratchy and loose but once I’d drawn the ties at the bodice tight, it all seemed to make sense.

“You look well.” Gwen smiled, her mane of red like a halo of crimson around her face. “Here, eat this.”

I fell upon the tomatoes, chunks of bread and cheese with a ferocious appetite becoming a werewolf. After a diet of burnt meat, muesli bars and a few strawberries, the humble meal was a feast. I saw Gwen pick up my modern clothing and raise her eyebrows.

“Perhaps, one day, you wi’ tell me where you came from…and who did this marvellous stitch work…”

I laughed…and promptly burst into tears. At some point I slept, unable to keep my eyes open anymore. When I woke, I found Gwen watching over Bastian.

“How long was I asleep?” I croaked.

“Abou’ two hours…it’s not long til dawn.”

I shivered and pulled the shawl she’d draped me with over my shoulders. My eyes lit nervously upon Bastian in the bed. His normally ruddy skin was so pale it looked like marble.

“How is he?” I asked, frightened of the answer.

“He slips closer ta the brink o’ death.” Gwen admitted. “I hope your miracle is not long in comin’.”

Barely ten minutes later, my miracle arrived.

There were several cries of fright and one soldier cried,

“It flew over the grass like a bird!”

I leapt up and ran to the door, flinging it wide.

Standing in the town square was a lithe figure, dressed in his elven clothing with a hood over his face.

“Faelan!”

He spun around, already running before his eyes had found me. I shifted sideways and he slid inside, Gwen rising in fright.

“Am I too late?” He asked, drawing back his hood, his pale gold hair shimmering in the soft light of the house.

“I…” I gestured helplessly to the bed. Faelan immediately went to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed. “He…”

Faelan didn’t need me to explain. He lifted the bundle of cloth pressed against Bastian’s abdomen. His eyes flinched.

“Bloody hell…”

“Faelan!”

“Forgive me…” He cleared his throat. “The damage is extensive...”

“Can you heal him?”

Faelan studied the other wounds but returned to the main one. He rested his hands lightly across the damage and concentrated. I held my breath and waited.

“I can feel his body attempting to heal him…but it is a battle fought in vain. However, had he not possessed the healing ability of a werewolf, he would have died long before now.” Faelan turned to me. “If I merge my healing ability with his, I should be able to restore him to a point where his own body will be able to take over.”

I stared at Faelan as he looked back at Bastian.

“Faelan,” I whispered, suddenly doubting my wisdom, “what will this do to you?” Faelan leaned forward, pretending not to have heard me but I knew otherwise. “Faelan!”

He sighed and paused. “I…will bear some…ramifications of such an extensive healing.”

“Oh no…”

“But I will have it no other way.”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Bastian?” His one good eye glared daggers at Faelan and his hand grasped Faelan’s arm weakly.

“I won’t…have you sacrificing yourself…for me…”

Faelan tilted his head and gave Bastian a superior look. “You are welcome to try to stop me.” He pried Bastian’s hand off and laid it on the bed. “Bethany,” he turned to me, “I will need to concentrate.”

“I understand.” I got up and looked at Gwen who had watched the exchange in awe. We left the house together and I shut the door quietly.

From behind me, I heard frantic panting. Armin stood in the mud, gesturing wordlessly.

“Faelan is in there with him now.” I assured him before he regained the ability to speak.

Armin leaned down, hands on his knees. “He barely…touched the ground…so fast…”

“You better sit down before you fall down.”

In the cold blue light of dawn, we began to see the toll taken on the city by the attack. There was a bit of damage, rooftops torn apart, the church’s tiles broken and slipping down randomly to shatter and the ground was littered with shards of coal embedded in the mud that would dry out once the sun appeared.

We sat on the steps of the church and I shivered, tucking my arms around myself as if my own body heat was a match for the relentless bite of dawn.

“Here,” Armin put his arm around me, “Bastian will kill me if I let you freeze to death.”

I sagged against him, my head on his shoulder.

We watched the lightening of the blue shadows, the trudge of the soldiers, the stirrings of the citizens and heard the call of the early birds.

“I didn’t ask what happened after Gero…”

“The Bloody Marks had already fled after their alpha was killed. They’ll spend days fighting amongst themselves, trying to establish a new alpha. I doubt, after word gets out about what Gero did, that they’ll dare cross into Wolfgang territory again.”

“And the Howling Peaks?”

“Gero despised weakness…so most of his clan was here…and there weren’t many that survived.”

“There must be some children left…”

“Left behind with nursing mothers…I’ve sent two of the militia to scout on them and, if they seem to be struggling, I’ll go as an emissary and offer them shelter in Befest.”

I gazed at him, observing the softness in his countenance. “You’ve changed your tune.”

“It was time for a new song.” He lowered his eyes. “I mean…I’d prefer it if Bastian was around to sing it…” We were consumed with our own thoughts, doubts and fears for a few minutes. “That...creature, Faelan…do you really think he can heal Bastian?”

“I know, without a doubt, that he’s going to try.”

“How? How can he possibly help?”

I swallowed, trying to conjure words to explain Faelan. “I take it you don’t know what elves are?” Armin shook his head. “Elves are…they’re like higher beings.”

“The way he ran, it was as though he flew.”

“No, not higher as in up there,” I pointed at the sky, “I mean, they are almost angelic and they possess a kind of…divine light within their bodies which keeps them healthy and young. And they can share that light with others…but it is a finite amount especially with one like Faelan.”

“I don’t understand,” Armin cleared his throat, “but I want to. I want to understand. I want to share this vision Bastian has for werewolves…of a culture…”

I blinked and looked at him. “Were you listening to us when we walked from the old bastion to the offering stone?”

“I…was curious.” Armin shrugged. “You share a connection with him that I do not. We were like brothers…”

“You still are.”

“But not enough to be trusted with such a…unique vision for the future.” Armin sighed. “I could take offense…but I can also see that Bastian was being cautious. He didn’t want to risk your future for the sake of ours.” He shook his head and gazed at the lightening sky. “I still don’t fully understand it…but I’m willing to try.”

I hugged close to Armin and I felt his surprise at my embrace. “You’re a bit of a softie underneath all that snark, aren’t you?”

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d deny it.”

The captain of the guard approached, clearing his throat softly. We sat up.

“I wanted to let you know that, because of your help, which I still am having trouble believing…there were only three human deaths…to nineteen werewolves.”

I shivered quite violently. “I’m sorry about those who lost their lives and their families.”

“As am I.” Armin added. “If not for Gero’s treachery…”

“They were all soldiers,” the captain said firmly, “and though we have no love for werewolves…we now have greater respect. Because of that, I wanted to confer with you as to the funeral rites of werewolves. We have gathered all the enemy werewolf bodies and put them outside of the city but if something is not done about them soon, disease will fester in their corpses.”

“Burn them.” Armin said quietly.

The captain nodded and I deeply appreciated his sensitivity in not wanting to offend the werewolves.

“I…there is one of your own who fell…”

Armin sat upright and looked at me then back at the captain. “Several of my militia are wounded but none fell.”

The captain glanced at me and I gasped.

“No!” I leapt to my feet. “No…he didn’t!”

“He is over there...”

Jurgen’s body was laid out respectfully in a cart. The young woman who Jurgen had said resembled his wife, Saraid, was laying wild flowers beneath his fingers. She looked up in alarm at our approach and stepped back.

“It’s alright.” I said, unable to stop the tears. “It’s…very kind of you…”

She licked her lips and gazed down at Jurgen’s serene face.

“Part of the church roof collapsed, a beam broke free…it should have crushed me. Instead, when I looked up, he was covering me with his body…he saved me.” She lifted her head, tears streaming down her face and making no attempt to stop them. “Why?” I couldn’t speak past the tightness of my throat. “Why did he do that? Why save me?” She put her fingers over his hand. “Why call me by my grandmother’s name?” I swallowed, pressing my lips together. She saw the conflict on my face. “He knew her, didn’t he?” I nodded. “Did he love her?” I nodded again. She wiped at her nose then leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.” She whispered to him.

There seemed little else to say. Armin asked if Jurgen could be buried in the human graveyard. The girl insisted on picking the plot herself. I knew I might never know for certain, but I suspected that Jurgen and Saraid would be reunited once more.

Fingers of sunshine began to stretch across the mauve sky, the only time I’ve known purple and yellow to mix and not create brown. It was a true miracle as the fingers of light spread longer and winder. And as they did, the broken city and its exhausted but alive inhabitants, began to rise for the day. I stayed with Armin, aware of the looks the humans were giving him, now able to see him properly.

“Maybe I should have hidden the ears and tail…” He muttered.

“Oh I don’t know,” I giggled, “look…”

There were a group of children peeking at Armin with trembling curiosity. They seemed to be daring each other to come closer and closer. Even without a werewolf’s ears, I could hear their fascination with Armin’s. Armin tried his best at a smile but they only scattered when his pointed canines appeared, regrouping around a corner of a building and making their advance again.

“What’s the time, Mr Wolf?” I laughed.

“It is morning…”

Armin was confused then we looked up as Gwen crossed the square with a tray in her hands.

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“Milk an’ bread.” She offered. “I know tis no’ much…”

“Gwen, how are you still awake?” I asked, taking a mug from the tray and a piece of the bread.

“Oh I ha’ slept here an’ there,” she insisted, “an’ I’m sure I ha’ slept more than you.”

I didn’t doubt that. I was beginning to sag in exhaustion again with warm milk in my belly. I glanced at Armin who was sniffing his.

“Don’t be rude.” I hissed.

“I don’t know what it is.” He argued.

“I drank mine, you can drink yours.”

Armin sighed and gulped a mouthful. He paused, letting the flavour rest on his tongue then quickly downed the rest.

“Must be a werewolf thing.” I laughed.

“It’s not mead…it’s not water…” Armin licked his lips. “I don’t know what it is…but I like it.”

“You should ha’ ano’er.” Gwen insisted, handing him a full mug. As she turned to offer bread to the children, I caught Armin staring at her.

“What?”

“Her hair…is it…hot?”

His remark wasn’t all that funny but I was tired and laughed out loud. Gwen looked back at us and I gestured at her to come over, Armin growling at me to cut it out.

“Armin wants to know about your hair.”

“Oh,” Gwen blushed and immediately began fussing with the loose plait of wild red locks, “tis a mess. I washed it only just afore the call to arms an’ I ha’ nowt done anythin’ wi’ it.” The more emotional she became, the stronger her accent until it was thick and textural. “It gan frizzy an’ migh’ look a righ’ mess…”

“Can I touch it?”

She stared at him. Armin swallowed and looked away.

“My hair bein’ stroked by a nameless werewolf…”

“I have a name.”

“So do I.”

“Armin.”

“Gwenhwyfar.” She held out her plait. “Now tha’ we are acquainted…”

Armin reached out tentatively and touched the curl at the end. “It’s so soft…”

Gwen looked at me a little helplessly.

“I’m guessing werewolves come in some pretty standard colours?” I nudged Armin.

“Tawny, black and white…I’ve never seen hair like this before.”

Armin seemed utterly transfixed by the vibrant hue. I glanced at Gwen and saw that she was eyeing off Armin’s ears.

“Well, I think it’s only fair that you let Gwen touch your ears now.” I remarked.

Gosh I was flippant when I was tired.

“Oh…no…” Gwen drew back. “I wouldn’ dream o’ it…”

“I don’t mind…” Armin cleared his throat. “If you want…”

Gwen stepped forward and reached out for the tips. Armin’s ears immediately flattened. She retracted her hand and he groaned.

“Sorry…sorry…I…try again…” But Armin’s reaction was still the same.

“Gwen,” I stood up and took her hand, “start at the base,” I put her fingers into his hair and let them find the base of Armin’s ears, “then rub upwards.”

“Just like a…” I shook my head urgently at her, hoping she wouldn’t liken Armin to a domesticated dog. Gwen clamped her lips shut and nodded then ran her fingers up his ears. “Oh…they’re so soft…” Her fingers reached his tips but rather than go defensive, Armin seemed to become almost placid. I leaned to look at his face. His eyes were closed as though the sensation was entirely enjoyable.

Gwen scratched the base of his ears, probably falling upon domesticated dog instinct but the effect on Armin was hysterical. He began to make small grunting noises, tilted his head and his leg twitched. If he hadn’t been sitting on his tail, I could have imagined that it would be wagging.

I stifled outright laughter.

“I’m going to leave the petting zoo…” I blurted and walked away, sniggering into my hand. It wouldn’t surprise me if, in a moment, Armin was on his back, letting Gwen rub his belly. “Just a little bit more wolf in them than they’d like to admit.” I giggled then put my hands on the door of Gwen’s house. “Faelan,” I whispered, “I’m coming in.”

The fire had died down overnight and the candles were either out or tiny flickers. However, the room had a distinct glow, coming from the bed.

Faelan sat on the edge with one hand on top of the other, resting lightly on Bastian’s abdomen. It was easy to become used to Faelan’s elvish glow which I supposed had something to do with the divine light of Iffah. In daylight it was almost indiscernible but in the darkened space of Gwen’s abode, I could see it shimmering about him, running down his hands and into Bastian. I gazed at the transference of healing power, not daring to go any closer but unwilling to leave.

Not long later, Faelan lifted his hands and gave a soft sigh.

“It is done.”

I took a hesitant step forward.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Faelan nodded, standing so that I could take his place. “I have healed his wounds to the point that his body will be able to restore him fully within a week. However, he must be cautious not to reopen the internal wounds for at least two days.”

“Armin!” I called, staring at where the mortal gash in Bastian’s abdomen, which had nearly signed his death certificate, had been. The werewolf and Gwen were quick to respond, Armin darting forward.

“I don’t believe it…” He breathed. “Bastian?”

The Wolfgang alpha remained still with his eyes closed. The one that had been a bloody mess was still red and bruised but the swelling had reduced. There was a dark red line going from his forehead, through his eye and into his cheek which had been lost in the swelling. I suspected Bastian would have a rather impressive scar but it looked as though he wouldn’t lose an eye. The rest of his wounds were beneath bandages but as Faelan had said, the one hindering Bastian’s ability to heal had been dealt with.

“Sleep is his greatest ally now. He will…live…”

Gwen gave a little shriek and I heard a thump behind me, twisting to see Faelan’s body slumped on the ground.

“Faelan!” I heaved him over easily, being so much lighter than Bastian and recoiled at the sight of his face. The eternal youthfulness was gone from his features. There was a terrible grey tinge to his skin, the pockets beneath his eyes were dark shadows and the glow about his body was all but non-existent. “No, no…no…”

“Forgive me,” he said in shallows breaths, “I have…over extended…myself.”

“I told you to be careful!”

“He…would have…died…if not…” Faelan’s eyes closed. I shook him hard.

“Faelan! Don’t fall asleep! What can I do?”

His lips moved but his voice was so soft I had to lean down close.

“…Ilanard…mother…”

“I understand,” I cupped his cheek, “I’ll get you home. Armin,” I took up and turned to the werewolf who was staring at the elf in disbelief, “Armin!” He shook his head and looked at me. “Take Faelan back to the door he came from. Can you do that?”

“Carry him to the Wand?”

“Yes. When you’re there, call for Rob. It’s likely he’ll be waiting for you. Tell him, Faelan needs his mother in Ilanard.”

Armin swallowed. I knew he was considering the long sprint across Alte Fehde with a body in his arms. “I…for my brother’s healer, I will do it, I swear.” He knelt and heaved Faelan into his arms. “He is so light…like he is hollow.”

“Be grateful he isn’t a lump of stone.” I urged. “Run, Armin.”

Without another word, Armin left the house and the city. I felt Gwen’s hand on my shoulder.

“I am sure he wi’ do his best to save the fair haired man.”

“If he dies...” I closed my eyes. “What have I done?”

Gwen’s words of encouragement fell on deaf ears. I sagged beside the bed and put my head on my arms. I cried for a while before my body gave in to sleep.

The next I knew, there was a weight on my head. My brow furrowed and I rose through the levels of sleep, drawn to the surface. I blinked and yawned.

“Princess, you’ll get a crick in your neck if you sleep like that.”

I lifted my head and my bleary vision cleared to see Bastion gazing at me with his one good eye open, the other peering through a squint.

“Hey,” I said, my exuberance softened by my sleepiness, “you’re awake.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

Bastian’s eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “My physical wounds do not compare to the shame of my behaviour.”

“You saved so many people…” I argued.

He managed to prop himself up a little against the bedhead, refusing any help, grimacing and sinking against the boards and a bolster cushion.

“But the one I was charged with looking after…I nearly forcibly seduced.”

I blinked, the memory returning to me.

It seemed like a year ago.

Bastian’s face was wreathed in shame. There was no trace of the seducer or even of the flirtatious werewolf I was used to at ‘House of Figs’. I licked my lips, gathering my thoughts and reached out to take his hand.

“Bastian, look at me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I…I wanted to say yes.” He kept his eyes closed and swallowed. I felt a blush steal across my skin. “I wanted to throw myself into your bed and lose myself in the moment…to be safe in your arms where the memory of what I’d seen wouldn’t be able to reach me, even if only for a little while.” It was hard to talk about and my chest was tight. “But I’ve been down that road before, driven by grief and rage…and ended up in Eden’s bed.”

“You speak of the death of your mother?” I nodded. “You see me as a type of Eden?”

“Oh no,” I looked up and found his amber irises gazing at me fearfully, “no, you are nothing like Eden. You are honourable and kind and selfless…” Bastian snorted softly and shook his head, turning away. I put my hand against his cheek. “No really, you are.” He swallowed and I brushed some of his tawny mane from his brow. “Maybe…we wouldn’t have regretted sleeping together…but can you really see me as your alpha mate? Strong, courageous…buxom?”

“Any alpha would be lucky to have such a mate.” Bastian argued softly.

“Really? Me? Here…” I clasped my hands together. “Bastian…what if I’d gotten pregnant? I’d be carrying a werewolf cub. I might be able to give birth in my world but the moment he or she displayed any wolf tendencies…I’d have to relocate here.” I closed my eyes.

“And you don’t love me.”

His words caught me off guard. I opened my eyes and met his gaze which was sorrowful.

“I…I do love you…but I am not in love with you.” I confessed and he turned his face slightly. “The truth is…if I stayed here for much longer or if I let my guard down around you…I could quite easily fall in love with you. You make any woman feel like she’s a goddess and who can resist a man like that? But my life is a mess as it is, Aunt Jo is depending on me and so is ‘House of Figs’. I can’t add falling in love with a werewolf alpha from a fictional world on top of what I’m already dealing with.”

Bastian nodded. “Yes, of course you’re right. You are for your world and I am for mine.”

“Actually, I had a thought about that.” I crossed my legs on the bed and leaned forward. “Your dream for a werewolf culture…you saw a glimpse of what it might look like, or the seed planted in your mind of what werewolves could achieve in my world. But it’s too far from this world. It’s like trying to get from A to Z without the rest of the letters of the alphabet. But…these humans who are showing signs that they might not be…adverse to relations with werewolves, they have the next steps.”

“What do you mean?”

I retrieved the tray Gwen had left for Bastian when he woke. “Look, milk and bread, freshly baked and vegetables that were harvested from their fields.” I put it on his lap. “They can show you how to plant and harvest, how to turn heads of grain into wheat to make bread. And, maybe, with a bit of negotiating, you can trade for the things you can’t get.” I held out the cup. “They have cows, Bastian…cows full of delicious milk.”

“And you think you don’t have what it takes to be an alpha mate?” Bastian took the cup. “Look at you, developing steps to negotiate peace and trade…”

“To be honest, I’ve been a bit inspired by watching Armin and Gwen flirt.” I giggled.

“Seriously?” Bastian glanced about. “Where is he?”

“Taking Faelan back to the door…” I clamped my teeth down but the words had already left.

Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “Why would Faelan need to be taken back to the door?”

He didn’t take Faelan’s collapse well.

“Bloody elf…I told him not to.”

“You’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for Faelan.”

“And what could my life have cost him?” Bastian shook his head, and grimaced. “I hate his superior smile and his calm façade and his skill in the kitchen…he’s so unbelievably annoying…but he’s my friend even if I want to break his nose some days…if he dies because of me…”

“I don’t think he’ll die.” I admitted. “If anyone can help him, it’ll be Bronwyn.”

“I hope so.” Bastian paused. “Don’t ever tell him I consider him a friend, will you? I don’t want him to think his smug elf self has won me over.”

“I won’t breathe a word.”

He took the news of Jurgen’s death to heart, somewhat comforted by the thought of him being buried close to his human wife.

“He was more my father than my own blood was.” Bastian said quietly and I saw tears trickle down his face, stinging the red mark over his eye as they went. “Bethany…I…”

It was amazing the change less than two days had made. I wouldn’t have dared to climb into bed beside him in his bedchamber when he asked me. Now, when he didn’t, I clambered over him carefully, squeezing between himself and the wall and let the alpha werewolf lean against me.

“He knew,” I whispered, “the moment you changed sides, he knew you’d broken that final bond of vengeance. Jurgen died finally confronting the evil he’d lived with most of his life.”

“I will miss his counsel…but I am so glad, for all those years, I had him speaking softly against the tyranny of my father.”

He slept and I, warm and finally comfortable, nodded off again. I knew I needed to get back to my world and to ‘House of Figs’ and Aunt Jo. Now that I had the haiku, I could cross Alte Fehde and go through the door…but I couldn’t leave Bastian alone.

The afternoon was well on its way when I pried my eyes open, wondering if I would ever feel well rested again. Bastian was awake and I guessed Gwen must have checked on him as he was enjoying some meat lightly roasted. He nudged me and nodded towards the fire she’d stoked into a warm blaze. Curled up in front of it was a large wolf.

“Armin?” I whispered as softly as I could.

Bastian winked then put his finger to his lips as Gwen re-entered the house. She picked up a blanket and draped it over Armin. I thought I saw his tail shift slightly. Gwen was quick to escape quietly.

Bastian snorted. “What a complete sham you are.”

Armin opened one eye and glared at him.

“What happened with Faelan?” I demanded.

Armin yawned, stretched and transformed, his spine curling upright and he jerked his head back, shaking his mane and giving his tail a flick.

“Give us a moment…not all of us have had the benefit of laying around all day.”

“Oh stop complaining. All you did was run.”

“Hey, I carried someone!”

“Who weighs about as much as a twig!”

“Guys!” I barked. “Armin, how is Faelan?”

“I took him to the door,” Armin glared at Bastian, “you have a lot of explaining to do, by the way, and that man who smells weird was waiting for me on the other side with a woman who looked a lot like Faelan.”

“Bronwyn,” I sank against the wall, “Rob had the presence of mind to go get her.”

“Rob took Faelan and carried him through another door with the woman. Then a dour faced gentleman who smelled of blood gave me something called a, cappuccino?” He looked at us and we nodded. “And something to eat called a muffin and I ran all the way back here.” Armin grabbed a stool and dragged it to the bedside. “So, Bastian…now that you’re awake, I’d like to hear, from you, just what your vision for the future of werewolves looks like…cause if it has milk in it…I’m ready to listen.”

Bastian’s recovery was nothing less than miraculous but even so, to fully heal, he would need days of rest. Despite pointing out that Armin was perfectly capable of taking me back to the door, Bastian insisted on accompanying us. We stayed another night at Gwen’s house and she cooked stew with potatoes, carrots, thick chunks of meat and a little barley thrown in. While I could see the vegetables rattled Armin’s palette, he consumed all of it for Gwen’s benefit.

She waved us off from the gate and I could see Armin’s tail droop as we turned and left.

The journey to the Wand was slower than the violent pace of the past two days. Armin carried me but Bastian had to go much more slowly. If he tried to push himself, I pointed out that Faelan wouldn’t hesitate to heal him again, even if it meant sacrificing his life. Bastian eased off on his lope and by early afternoon, we began the climb up the slope to the den.

Once inside, I found my bag still sitting by the door. I checked the pocket, the haiku tucked inside.

I picked it up and turned to the two werewolves.

“Well…I suppose I ought to be going.”

“In that?” Bastian nodded at my outfit.

I smiled. “I’m going to wash it at home and send it back to Gwen…via Wolf-o-gram?”

Armin frowned. “What?”

I laughed. “If I left a bag here, would you mind taking it to Gwen?”

“Oh…if I must.” Armin’s mouth curled up in a grin. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“So much so.” I giggled. “But it’s so sweet.”

“Sweet? I’m not sweet! I’m a devilish, ferocious, wild werewolf!”

“Until someone scratches you behind the ear.”

Armin grimaced. “That…I was not expecting that…”

“If you should choose to mate with a human, I would support it.” Bastian said calmly. “However, you must go into such a bonding with eyes wide open to the adversity you will face together.”

Armin sighed. “Perhaps the differences are too great to traverse…”

Bastian looked at me and winked. “Oh…but they’re worth it.”

I didn’t blush but smiled. “You’re getting back to your old self.”

“A few more days and I will be fully healed.” Bastian saw me lick my lips. “Bethany, what is it?”

“Oh gosh, this is really hard to say…” I swallowed. “Bastian, if…if you need to stay here…I understand.”

“What?”

“The Wolfgang clan needs its alpha. You have vulnerable clans out there who might need protecting and you have your own clan that is grieving for the loss of two of its own and the betrayal of Elke’s sister. It’s too much to ask someone to work a job in my world when you already have so much to bear.”

Bastian gazed at me, his amber eyes tinged with doubt.

“At least he’s not doing it alone.” Armin said, surprising both of us. “Look, a leader needs vision and this ‘House of Figs’ has given him that. I think it’d be stupid to lose it when it’s just a few hours here compared to your world.” He was struggling to wrap his head around the time difference but I was surprised and heartened by the way Armin was willing to take it all in. “Your militia supports you, Bastian, now more than ever. They saw the depravity of the werewolf nature…they don’t want it. I think, if we take this…momentum and run with it…”

“We could start to see real change,” Bastian looked at me, “and not just the absence of conflict.”

I nodded. “I think it’s really possible.” I sighed and looked over my shoulder. “I’m happy to help if I can…”

“You’ve done more than enough. You have your own world to look after.” Bastian leaned down and kissed my forehead. His eyes conveyed deeper intent but he stepped back and nodded. “I’ll be back at work tomorrow.”

“I’ll make sure we have enough meat on order.” I smiled. I grasped the door handle and pushed, the Observatory beyond, bathed in light. I stepped across the threshold, turned and waved at the werewolves before closing the door. I sighed, leaning forward to sag against the bookshelves.

“Bethany St James?”

“Hi Rob,” I said quietly then looked at him, “you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Query, have you contracted an optical infection?”

Rob’s earnest face made me laugh.

“Okay, first thing’s first…how is Faelan?” Rob took my bag and led me out of the Observatory and into ‘House of Figs’. “It was a brilliant idea, by the way, to already have Bronwyn here.”

“I calculated that there was a ninety one percent chance that Faelan would require the divine light of Iffah to recover from healing Bastian and wished to be prepared.”

“Just ninety one percent?”

“I allowed for the possibility that Bastian would already be dead by the time Faelan reached him.” Rob admitted. “I am relieved that this was not the case.”

“It was close, Rob,” I sighed, “so very, very close…”

It was surreal being back in the café after five nights in Alte Fehde. I felt displaced and tired.

“How’d you reach her?”

“You spoke of an abandoned outpost and of the ruins of the elves of Xephis. I simply applied logic, found my way to the outpost and cried out her name.”

“Gotta love those sensitive elven ears.” I nodded.

“She was swift in coming. As the time delay between this world and Ilanard is not as extreme as between this world and Alte Fehde, she had not long arrived when the werewolf returned with Faelan.”

“What happened next?” I asked, slumping on a chair and sagging on the table.

“Rafael said he would look after Armin as I carried Faelan into Ilanard, following as swiftly behind Bronwyn as I could.”

“She didn’t attempt to heal him herself?”

“She said he needed to be soaked in the divine light of Iffah.”

“But Faelan and Bronwyn have both been banished and Faelan’s brother wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of them…” Panic began to set in.

“Bronwyn led me to a cave which passes from the neutral border into Iffah.” Rob explained. “The other side is sealed with bracken and is completely overgrown but Bronwyn said that the divine light was still present. It was not as highly saturated as it is closer to the heart of the elves’ territory but it was close enough to help restore Faelan.”

I put my head in my hands.

Rob’s hand rested on my shoulders.

“Bethany St James, you require rest.”

“I suppose…” I whispered then tried to drag myself up. “What time is it?”

“Only half an hour before opening.” Rafael remarked, striding in through the back door. I froze and stared at him, suddenly remembering that I hadn’t told him I was going to visit Alte Fehde. Rafael folded his arms, his hair almost fully red but so dark it was like dried blood and gave me a critical glare. “Don’t you look quaint?”

I glanced down, recalling I was in Gwen’s dress and tunic.

“I…”

“Does the wolf live?”

“Yes,” I managed to nod, “Bastian lives.”

“And the elf won’t die. He’ll have to come back to rub Bastian’s nose in it.” Rafael took his apron from the hook and tied it around his waist, flicking his sharp locks out of the halter necktie.

“You…you’re not angry?”

Rafael looked at me. “I’m bloody furious,” I cringed, “but mostly at the danger you put yourself in.”

“You’re the one who told me to make a stand.” I blurted weakly.

“Not to risk your life!”

“I…I know.” I swallowed. “I get it, Rafael…but I didn’t know what else to do…”

Rafael raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you at least get the haiku?”

“I did.” I fetched it from the pocket and cleared my throat. “Conceived in darkness, to see transgression undone. Frail, tenacious hope. And it has three of five at the bottom.”

“You have all but the last haiku then.” Rob observed.

“Yes,” I looked at Rafael, “I don’t suppose you were able to find the last one?”

“Not as yet.”

I shook my head. “I hoped it would provide answers but it’s equally as much of a riddle as the rest.” I scrunched my eyes shut and pressed my fingers against my head. “I can’t think through this fog…”

“You need to sleep.”

“We’ve just opened!”

“Then have a shower, wake up and when you start to fall over, go and sleep.” Rafael began to prep his beloved coffee machine. “Rob and I can handle the café.”

“We have no grillardin or dessert cook.”

“I altered ‘House of Figs’ social media site to inform the public that we are unable to open the café itself but our take away coffee window is still in operation.”

“And Faelan made sure we had plenty of sweets to offer.” Rafael looked at me sharply. “Go and have a shower!”

“You know, you’d almost be a white knight if not for your tone.” I muttered then dragged myself up.

The shower revitalised me and as grateful as I was to Gwen for the use of her clothes, it was a pleasure to be back in my own things again. The sun was shining brightly and there was a little warmth to it, signalling that winter was drawing to a close and spring was around the corner.

After my shower I set about reading all the messages and emails I’d missed on my phone.

There was a single line text from Jet after the message I’d sent him, apologising for the way I’d spoken to him.

“Be back Wednesday.” I sighed. “Well…that’s hardly comprehensive but at least he’s coming back…today or tomorrow? Oh I’m so confused. Blimmen time difference…”

I did a search on my phone for some Celtic styled clothing, wanting to buy Gwen a dress or skirt as a thank you for her kindness. It wasn’t hard to find some beautiful items and, after a bit of a browse, I decided to buy myself something as well in case I ever went back and wanted to look like I fit in. With that done I collected all my dirty washing and took it downstairs, dropping it all in the machine before heading into the café.

Rafael was working briskly at the window while Rob handled the monetary transactions and let the customers know the food that was available to buy.

Though they were doing a brilliant job, my heart ached considerably at the notion that I had been summoned to ‘House of Figs’ by Aunt Jo to look after it…and now three out of five staff were missing.

Eustace had not returned and possibly wouldn’t ever come back now that he was a father.

Bastian was recovering from grievous injuries in his world and starting the werewolf renaissance.

Faelan was soaking up the divine light of Iffah in Ilanard after nearly killing himself healing Bastian.

‘House of Figs’ felt greatly diminished.

It was hard not to be discouraged.

“Query, are you planning on visiting Jo today, Bethany St James?” Rob asked even as he worked swiftly, bringing bottles of milk out of the fridge for Rafael.

“I should.” I nodded. “I haven’t for…oh gosh, what day is it again?”

“Tuesday.” Rafael barked.

I was reluctant to abandon them. I pottered about, delaying my departure and, as I tidied the bookshelf near the bay window, I spied a familiar face striding up the path.

The effect was overwhelming. I immediately ducked down and held my breath. A second later I heard a loud rap on the door.

“Can’t people read?” I heard Rafael mutter.

“Query, could you answer that knock, Bethany St James?”

I couldn’t move. I was frozen, huddled on the floor, trying to stay out of sight.

The knocking continued and I heard Rob walk around the counter, heading towards the front door. It was impossible for him to have not seen me yet he said nothing. My heart was racing and my chest tightened like a tourniquet. I thought I was going to snap in half.

I heard the front door being unlocked and there was a horrible moment when I heard it open…only to slam into the immoveable foot of Rob.

“Let me in.” Kendra demanded.

“The sit down portion of ‘House of Figs’ is unfortunately closed today. If you require a coffee, please join the line for our takeaway window service.”

“I’m not a customer. I’m family! Where on earth is Bethany?”

I cringed, curled up with my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

“Bethany St James is unavailable at the moment.”

“She should be here.” Kendra said sharply. “‘House of Figs’ has been closed for two days!”

“We are not closed. The takeaway window is open.”

“The café is closed, then.” Kendra’s tone was scathing. Any pretence at civility was gone. “Where are all your staff?”

“Our grillardin is recovering from a physical injury and the dessert cook is suffering a deficiency in his body that is being rectified.”

“Why didn’t Bethany tell me this?” Kendra demanded. “She’s got no idea how to run a café! You can’t just close it down. You’ll lose business! I could have a grill chef and a dessert cook here in a matter of hours to take over.”

“We have every confidence that ‘House of Figs’ will be fully staffed tomorrow.”

I heard Kendra huff. “I don’t want to have to deal with the remains because she’s messed it up. It’s just not good enough.” I heard her heel screech on the veranda, gouging the slats with a crescent shape before she stormed off. I heard Rob close the door and lock it securely. Then I heard him walk towards my position and squat down.

“Bethany St James…”

“It’s all a mess…I’m a mess…I’m not good enough…” I wept, shaking. “I’m falling apart, Rob.”

“Then I will hold you until you pull yourself together.” Rob said, putting his arms around me. “We all will.”

I shook my head. “You’re so busy. You shouldn’t waste time on me.”

“What you call a waste, I call an investment.”

He refused to be pushed away and I sank against him.

“Rob…I stood against a werewolf army and called the leading alpha a liar…so why do I go to pieces here? Why…why can’t I stand up to her?”

“You have been conditioned by expectation, condemnation and fear,” Rob said calmly, “and in the face of the one who was held up as your example, you experience crippling self doubt.”

“You mean, because I didn’t know the werewolves and I was unknown to them, I could be braver than I am here?”

“It’s harder to break the mould than make a new one.” Rafael remarked from behind the counter.

“With those who consider you brave, you rise with their encouragement. Here you have convinced yourself and been convinced by others, that Kendra is better than you.” Rob lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes. “I would never let her into my IDV.”

I tried to get my breathing back under control. “I…I…don’t know how…to not go to pieces around her…not when everything she says I think is right. ‘House of Figs’ is a mess, I’ve lost three staff…I’ve driven Jet away.”

“You must not let these lies take root.” Rob lifted me up. “Jet is coming back. Your staff are not lost but merely, having a reprieve and two will more than likely be back tomorrow. And the true test of an establishment is how it survives under pressure. ‘House of Figs’ is not a mess. It is a survivor. You are a survivor.”

I didn’t end up going to the hospital that day. Rob and Rafael both decided that I should not go on my own in case I ran into Kendra and she tore strips off me for getting ‘House of Figs’ into such a state. I rang the hospital and spoke with a nurse, asking how Aunt Jo was and explained I was unwell. I tried to help in the café but eventually I was shooed out and told to sleep. Rafael made me a cup of warm milk with some herbs or flavour in it that I didn’t quite fully recognise but it was effective. I slept for hours, woke up enough to eat and fell back asleep again, only rising when my alarm beeped.

It was incredible the power a good sleep had on putting things in perspective. I recalled my extreme reaction to Kendra and likened it to some nightmares. It was terrifying at the time but upon waking and thinking about it with a clear head, most of them are absurd and not scary at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t rattle me but cowering in a corner was not how I felt I would react if I saw her again today.

Mind you, that wouldn’t stop me from trying to avoid her if I could.

I walked down the stairs and paused, hearing voices. I nearly tripped over my own feet in my haste to get down and saw Rafael and Rob in conversation with Bastian. I gave a little gasp and flew at him. He turned to towards me, grabbed me around the waist and spun me around.

“I could get used to this.” Bastian chuckled, holding me warmly. “Hello princess, how are you?”

“How am I?” I leaned back in his arms. “How are you?” My fingers touched his face, tracing the red line through his eye. “This didn’t heal without a trace…”

“I kind of like it. It’s a mark of pride and I think it adds to my rakish good looks.” Bastian chuckled, his canines showing brightly. “You’re welcome to check out the rest of me…”

“Oh brother…” Rafael moaned.

“It seems Bastian has lost none of his excess of charm.” Rob remarked.

“The greetings at ‘House of Figs’ seem to have become much more tactile of late.”

I twisted in Bastian’s arms to see Faelan standing at the back door. I disentangled myself and ran at him. Faelan wasn’t the kind of person to grab me and spin me around so I didn’t lunge at him like I had at Bastian. He gazed down at me and smiled with warmth in his expression and a beautiful glow around his elfish self.

“You’re alright?”

“I have been restored by the light of Iffah.” He nodded.

I swallowed then smacked his arm. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”

Faelan held out his arm and I looped mine through it. “It was a fine line between healing and dying…but it seems my efforts were not in vain. Bastian.”

“Faelan.” Bastian folded his arms, his muscles flexing. “I suppose I should thank you for what you did.”

“I suppose you should…but I did not heal you to illicit your gratitude.”

“Oh good, then I won’t bother.” Bastian sauntered away, waving his hand like he was swinging a lasso. “Come along people, let’s get ‘House of Figs’ back on track.”

In between serving food and cleaning tables, I heard some of what Bastian and Faelan had been through. Faelan had lain in the cave with his mother watching over him. They had to be completely silent lest their voices be caught by a patrol and their hiding spot, discovered. And yet, despite their silence, a bond had formed between them again. Perhaps it was just the reforging of an old bond or a brand new one but Faelan spoke of his mother with more understanding. He even talked about visiting in the future although I suspected he was still not comfortable with staying at Elvan.

“Perhaps you might visit with me?” He asked as he began to whisk egg whites into a frothy frenzy.

“I’d really like that.” I nodded. “I owe Bronwyn some books and she’s a good person to talk to, kind of like an aunt I just discovered I had. And maybe there will be a bonfire and some dancing?”

“I think, perhaps, I will leave the dancing to you.”

“Faelan, give me half a chance and I’ll drag you into a jig.” I laughed and he smiled.

Bastian’s recovery had taken longer but as Alte Fehde’s time ran much faster, he was greatly improved by the time he’d returned to ‘House of Figs’.

“How’s Elke?” I asked.

“She had already heard of her sister’s despicable actions when the militia returned to Befest. I explained everything, including the real cause behind her father’s death. Had I told before Christel’s betrayal, I doubt she would have believed me but now…”

“I hope she gets through it alright.” I paused. “What about the clans that were left defenceless?”

“Bloody Marks have retreated deeper into uncivilised territory. If they ever emerge, I would be very surprised. Armin travelled to the Howling Peaks himself and offered sanctuary to the mothers and children. Only a few took him up on it.”

“Werewolves are very proud, aren’t they?”

“They are.” Bastian’s eyes grew sad. “Perhaps, when the weather turns bad, we’ll reach out to them again.”

Because ‘House of Figs’ had its grillardin and dessert cook back after an absence of two days, business was booming and they had their hands full cooking, baking, preparing and serving. When the time came to visit Aunt Jo, I put my foot down and insisted I would be fine to go on my own.

“I won’t take you away from here when there’s so much to do.” I insisted.

“What if you run into Kendra?”

“I’ll…keep an eye out for her…and probably hide.” I admitted. “It’s just one day. I can do this.”

Reluctantly they agreed. Perhaps if Eustace had been there, I could have taken him but he was not and from what Rob had said, there hadn’t been a word or sign from the dragon world.

It was a pleasant walk to the hospital. At the nurse’s station in ICU, there was an envelope with papers inside of it from Dr Ishani, reports written about Aunt Jo’s condition and the lack of improvement. Chris from legal had included a list of things I needed to get together. He’d already emailed all of it but he’d been kind enough to put a check list in place so I could mark off when I had the paperwork.

After flicking through it, feeling the bite of fear and doing my best to ignore it, I went into Aunt Jo’s room. It was strange. Just over two months earlier, seeing her in the bed, comatose and plugged into all manner of machinery to monitor her life signs, had unnerved me. A woman who had always been so bright and vibrant and compassionate, lying as though dead with only a beep now and again to let me know she wasn’t.

But I didn’t find it so intimidating now.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“I don’t want to get comfortable with the idea of you in a coma,” I admitted, “but I suppose, being uncomfortable about it won’t change much either.”

I sat on the end of the bed and looked at her. “So…I went to Alte Fehde and did my best to mess everything up there. Nearly started a war…again. Nearly lost Bastian and Faelan in one night…was this close to, well…you know…with Bastian.” I hooked my leg up. “You offered for me to come live with you after mum died. I should have said yes. I could have done without that rotten six months…and I would have been here to help out, to meet the guys and I might have been able to stop you from falling into the coma. At the very least, you wouldn’t have had to leave haikus everywhere, the purpose of which I still don’t understand. It seems you want me to go to all the worlds, well, except Infinitus. What am I missing, Aunt Jo? What aren’t I understanding about all this?”

She was unfortunately not forthcoming with an explanation. I watered her plants, because I’d brought a couple more over the course of two months and jigged the coffee bag so that the room smelt like Rafael’s station first thing in the morning. I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.

“See you tomorrow.”

I enjoyed the sunshine on the way home, turning into the cul de sac where ‘House of Figs’ rested at the far end, just waiting for me to come home.

But I paused at the corner, standing in front of Gary’s house with the distinctive blue tiles and white picket fence. The orange tree with its blood red fruit stood by the front gate, its branches reaching over onto the footpath. The smell of citrus still permeated the air, the tree refusing to acknowledge that its time for bearing fruit was over.

I looked up, seeing an orange, larger than the rest probably because it had been too high to reach, causing the branch it was on to lean down above my head, its dimpled skin the colour of World War II lipstick. I just stared at it, debating whether or not to knock on Gary’s door.

It was Wednesday.

Jet might be home.

But I’d received no messages.

No texts, apart from the single one about getting back to Glenwilde today.

As I stood there, I felt my anxiety grow, remembering how harshly I had spoken to him after only just conveying that I kind of understood where he was coming from with his obsessions and focus.

I didn’t know what to think.

I just stared at the stupid orange, remembering that, once, when we were a lot younger, he’d given me one.

My shoulders drooped along with my resolve. I was about to walk on when a shadow crossed over the path and I saw an arm reach out and grasp the orange above my head, plucking it from its tenacious hold on the branch.

I spun around and saw Jet standing behind me. He was dressed as he always was in black jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt under a short sleeve one and his beloved red runners. His hair was a little rumpled, probably from sitting in a seat on a train for hours. In one hand he grasped the handle of a medium sized suitcase on wheels. In the other he held the orange.

He gazed at me with his brown eyes, blinked…and handed the orange to me.

I looked at it, my heart sinking.

“Jet…I’m so sorry…”