The occasional dust devil was the only company to be found on the road. As the shadows began to stretch, Renier's steps grew heavier with each passing stride. Three weeks on this seemingly endless path had taken its toll on the young boy's spirit and body. The very stones he walked upon echoed with loneliness.

His short bow and falchion, which had allowed him to survive, hung heavily at his side. With every step, the falchion's hilt knocked gently against his leg, a rhythmic reminder of his progress. 'Three long weeks,' he mused with a sigh, 'and still more to go. I never imagined this road could feel so infinite and deserted.'

Once a shield against the elements, his cloak now felt laden and gritty. The hood pulled low over his eyes, concealed a face streaked with the dust and grime of the road. The food supply in his satchel had dwindled to near-nothingness, and the gnawing hunger was an ever-present companion. The three rabbits he had killed were long gone, and he didn't dare to eat the berries that dotted the sides of the road. It was a careful balance; if he hunted, he didn't advance, and if he advanced, he didn't eat. 'I'll need to stop and hunt soon,' he mused, 'or maybe just a bit further, and I'll come across a village or a caravan that can sell me food,' he hoped.

In the dimming light, Renier's gaze settled on a Roman milestone ahead. Despite the weight of time, the marker stood firm and proud, its inscriptions witnessing countless journeys. With tired legs, he moved closer, longing to find some hint of his progress or how much further he had to travel.

The surface of the milestone, a mix of ancient engravings and nature's reclaiming touch, teased Renier's weary eyes. Straining to decipher the faded letters, he felt a mixture of hope and anxiety. 'Lykhnidos can't be too far now. Perhaps another week or a little more,' he pondered, momentarily using the stone's sturdy presence to support his fatigued frame.

He noticed a small thicket of bushes, a clearing at its center to the side of the road. Their interlaced branches seemed to offer a protective embrace, and Renier decided this would be where he'd rest. He unfurled his bedroll on the relatively flat ground, its worn fabric a familiar comfort against the cold earth.

He gathered twigs and dried leaves with practiced hands, arranging them into a small fire pit. The flint and steel he kept in his satchel sparked to life after a few strikes, the resulting flame dancing and flickering, bringing warmth and a sense of security to the encampment.

As Renier sat by the fire, lost in the gentle crackling of the flames and the thoughts of his journey, a distant, eerie howl broke the stillness. His heart skipped a beat. Another howl, closer this time, followed by several more in quick succession. Wolves. The knowledge settled heavily in his gut.

Renier's hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his falchion. 'Merde, another night of trouble; well, at least I won't dream about her tonight,' he silently affirmed. He stoked the fire, making it blaze brighter. Wolves would avoid fire, or so his father had told him, and he hoped the light and heat would keep them at bay.

Drawing his cloak tighter around him and positioning himself so the fire was between him and the direction of the howls, he pondered his situation. 'They might just be passing through or curious. I have my weapons, the fire, and my wits. I'll make it through the night,' he bolstered himself with these thoughts while looking for a nonexistent tree to climb.

Throughout the night, Renier remained alert, the distant howls reminding him of the wilderness around him. Yet, the fire's warmth, the bushes all around him, and his resilience gave him hope and the strength to face what the night had in store for him.

The night grew more profound, the once roaring flames now subdued to mere embers, painting a warm orange hue against the encompassing dark. The only sounds breaking the stillness were an owl's sporadic call and the gentle rustling of leaves. Every soft noise set Renier's nerves on edge, each whisper of the night magnifying his sense of vulnerability. But fatigue, persistent and overpowering, began to lull his wary senses.

Slumber, though not intended, took him. It was a restless kind, filled with shadows of his journey.

Ayg floated in front of him, a look of worried concern on her beautiful face. "Child, quickly, there's danger!" She alerted, urging him to wake up. Then, she performed a hand seal, and a blinding white light shot from her hands.

Within this haze of half-sleep, the sudden bright light startled Renier awake. A pressing, palpable menace clawed at his heart, dragging him to action.

His eyes shot open. The surrounding shadows now held predatory glints of yellow, and the low growls of wolves resonated with chilling clarity. Panic seized him. 'Not now, not like this,' Renier's mind raced, even as one of the wolves, bolder than the rest, lunged.

Pain, sharp and immediate, coursed through his arm. But amidst the surge of agony, Renier's instincts kicked in. He swiped with his falchion, managing to repel the immediate threat. However, as he took in the scene, the gravity of his situation settled heavily. Three wolves, sensing a potential meal, were in the clearing. 'Focus. React. I can't die here!' he thought desperately.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a flaming log and hurled it towards an advancing wolf. The brief flare startled the creature, but Renier knew he was merely buying time. He quickly nocked an arrow into his bow, the string biting into his injured arm. Releasing it, he watched as the arrow found its mark, taking down one adversary.

However, the odds remained overwhelming. The wolves circled, their eyes calculating, weighing the risks and rewards. 'They're waiting for me to weaken,' Renier realized, feeling the pull of dizziness from his injury.

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With a surge of defiance, he uttered a war cry, a challenge echoing through the still night. The two wolves hesitated, taken aback by his fierce resistance. Seizing the moment, Renier swung his falchion, wounding another wolf. 'Just a bit more, show them you're not an easy prey,' he urged himself.

His display of strength and ferocity seemed to tip the balance. Gradually, the wolves began to retreat, their confidence shaken by this unexpected show of defiance. As the last predators disappeared into the inky blackness, a wave of relief and exhaustion washed over Renier, causing his knees to buckle beneath him.

Staggering back to the fire, he managed to revive it into a protective blaze. His thoughts were a whirlwind - relief at surviving, anxiety over his injuries, and the dawning realization of his mangled arm.

Fumbling with his good hand, he opened his satchel, pulling out bandages and a poultice of herbs known for their antiseptic properties, a flask of strong alcohol to clean the wound, and needle and thread for stitching.

He cleaned the gash with gritted teeth, the sting of alcohol making him wince. Then, after applying the herbs, he began the agonizing process of stitching the wound shut, his fingers trembling but determined. 'One stitch at a time... I can't let it fester,' he urged himself. He finished exhausted, knowing he had to keep vigil or he might be attacked again. Wolves were tenacious with perceived prey.

Sitting by the fire, he remembered the woman and the blinding light. She had been his constant companion in his dreams every single night. Always floating on top of the mandala and always performing the same hand seals. Like she was trying to tell him something he couldn't quite grasp. A mystery he had no time to figure out. When morning came, he finally fell asleep.

Ayg appeared again." Child, copy my hand seal, now," she commanded as she floated on top of the stones, performing hand seals, urging him to mimic her. A soft blue glow emanated from the mandala carved on the floor as she finished. Like he had done once before, he copied the hand seals she had performed, and the woman smiled and faded away.

As he slept, a soft blue light emanated from Renier's right hand, enveloping his whole body, but it quickly sputtered out.

"Boy, you all right?" a man in leather armor asked as he shook Renier by the shoulder. "He has a fever," he told his companion, "let's tak' him back wit' us, and the capt'n can decide." One scout draped Renier over his horse's rump while the other gathered his belongings.

"The wound's closed and ain't festerin'. I think he needs some drink. Bring clean wat'r," Renier, in his haze, heard a person say. He tried to open his eyes, but exhaustion wouldn't allow it. "Here, have som' of this," a young female voice said as he felt the moisture on his lips. He opened his lips slightly to allow the glorious liquid in and swallowed.

"Merci," he said in a raspy voice and fell back into slumber.

He opened his eyes and squinted, the daylight painfully sharp against his eyelids. The muffled jangle of harnesses and the warmth of a small, enclosed space greeted him.

“Easy, easy,” the same young female voice advised. He blinked, adjusting his gaze to find a young lady kneeling beside him, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. Her eyes were the color of the sea he’d traveled to Cattaro, and her dark hair was pulled back, a few loose strands framing her face.

“Où…?” Renier’s voice croaked out, his throat parched.

“You’re saf' wit' us,” a young lady with almond-shaped hazel eyes and chestnut hair said softly, offering him a cup of water. “I’m Mira. Yo' be' foun' by the scouts, alone, hurt.”

"Merci mademoiselle," he replied without thinking. Then, seeing the look of incomprehension, he quickly switched to Venetian, "Thank you, signorina."

The memories of his journey and the vicious wolves that had set upon him rushed back. He peered under the blood-stained bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. He'd managed to suture the wound himself, a skill taught by his father before darkness had claimed him. But strangely, it was mostly healed now. Only a dull ache and the itching of the scab that had formed remained.

“Ye's been out all day. 'member yo'r name?” Mira asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Sorry, my name is Renier,” he replied, accepting the water and sipping slowly, the liquid soothing his raw throat. “I’m traveling to Lykhnidos,” he answered with an uncertain voice.

Mira’s hand reached out, resting gently on his good arm. “We be headin' towards Lykhnidos. Ye can trek with us till then.”

Questions lingered in Renier’s mind, who these people were, where they were from, but he felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he whispered, his stomach grumbling from the emptiness.

Renier took another careful sip, the cool water a balm to his parched throat. “My satchel,” he croaked, remembering the meager rations he had left. “I need to eat,” he said embarrassingly, pointing to his once again grumbling stomach. Mira’s gaze softened, a small smile touching her lips. “I got somethin' better. Ye needs warm food.” She uncovered a small pot by her side, the aroma wafting to his nostrils, making his mouth water. 'How long has it been since I had warm food,' he mused as the first spoonful of stew entered his mouth.

“Mmmph Thmank Ymmph,” his eyes sparkling with a mix of embarrassment and sincere appreciation, a dribble of broth escaping his lips. He swallowed quickly, cheeks flushed. “Thank you, Mira,” he said more clearly as the rolling movement of the wagon stopped. "Stoppin' for the night, I reckon. I'll be back later. Enjoy yo'r stew," said Mira as she quickly exited the back of the wagon.

As Renier finished the last of his stew, Mira popped her head into the wagon and said, "We be settin' camp. Cap'ain wants to see yo'?" Renier, his strength renewed by the food, assented and moved towards her.

The camp was bustling with activity, people setting up tents, tending to horses, and cooking over open fires. Mira led him to a bonfire where a group of rugged men and a stern-looking older man sat, discussing the route ahead. “Renier,” she said, “these be the scouts, Jovan and Ilija, that found ye. And this be Tomas, the cap'ain.”

Jovan and Ilija nodded at him, their gazes assessing, while Tomas fixed him with a piercing stare. “Ye’re lucky to be alive, boy,” Tomas remarked gruffly, his eyes not unkind.

“Thank you all for your kindness,” Renier replied, meeting Tomas’s gaze steadily.

“Mira's been nursing ye,” Tomas said, glancing at Mira with a hint of a smile. “We'll drop ye at Lykhnidos. 'bout ten days. Ye can help with the mules, or ye won't eat,” he said in a tone that implied the conversation was over.

The next few days settled into a comfortable routine. Renier would be up before dawn. He would do his exercise routine and weapons practice, then help pack and travel most of the day. In the afternoon, he would help set up camp, dig a latrine, tend to the mules, have dinner, sit by the fire listening to the grand stories the guards would tell, and then sleep; however, his dream helper did not appear even once.

On the last day before reaching Lykhnidos, Renier approached Tomas, the firelight casting flickering shadows on the ground around them. He hesitated momentarily, then spoke, his voice clear and determined, “Captain Tomas, may I have a word with you?”

Tomas looked at him; his gaze was stern, as always. “Speak up, lad.”

“I… I’m thankful for your help and Mira’s. We're nearing Lykhnidos. I heard you will travel to Konstantiniyye, and I was wondering…” Renier paused, gathering his thoughts. “Could I perhaps travel with you and your caravan?”

Tomas raised an eyebrow, studying him. “What business ye got in Konstantiniyye, lad? The city's, teemin’ with deviousness and thievery.”

Renier met his gaze unwaveringly. “I'm traveling to join my aunt there.”

A silence fell between them as Tomas scrutinized Renier. He seemed to be weighing his sincerity and evaluating his potential contribution to the caravan. Renier held his breath.

Finally, Tomas nodded slowly. “It'll be three months to Konstantiniyye. Ye’ll continue to work hard every day. Ye’ll obey orders, no backtalk. Ye get food, safe travel, and no more. Deal?”

Renier's heart leaped, and he nodded eagerly. “Deal. I’ll do whatever it takes. Thank you, Captain.”

Tomas nodded back, a flicker of a smile touching his lips. “We’ll see how ye hold up, lad. Welcome to the crew.”