“Roland!” the giant, Tim, hollers as he races down the street.

He stops two feet from us and bends double to catch his breath. His bald black head glistens in the lamplight.

“Boy, I leave ya be for two seconds and you get out and attack your guard! What am I to do with you?” He asks, exasperated.

I chuckle, shuffling back with measured, limping steps to lean casually against the wall as I fold shaking hands across my chest to convey control.

Honestly, my legs won’t hold and my ribs ache something fierce while white hot pain flares from the holes in my leg and chest. “In my defense, I did just get out of my deathbed to come against an unknown person outside the door.”

Said guard coughs suspiciously as he picks up his sword. “I thought you were going to snap my neck like a twig.”

“Naw, would’ve taken too much energy,” I say.

Good one, my internal voice snickers.

Oh, so now I get your approval. What about when I was trying to save a kid and you were calling me stupid?

You called us stupid first.

Fair enough.

The guard grins and sticks his hand out, unaware of my internal dilemma. “Nice to know I wasn’t important enough to kill.”

I grin right back and shake it. “Glad to know you’re not my enemy.” The words come out more bitter than I'd like.

Tim coughs to break the awkwardness. "You need to be abed."

“I couldn’t stay in there a moment longer.” Tim raises an eyebrow in unspoken curiosity. “Too many memories,” I say, rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hands.

Jace sizes me up before nodding, then runs a finger over his blond whiskered cheek. “I wouldn’t want to stay in there after a night like that, either.”

I don’t bother to correct him. Memories of healers and cages go hand in hand for me. The night before was nothing compared to some things I had been forced to endure... and even do.

“Come along, then,” Jace says. He walks away, leaving me and Tim to follow or get left behind.

I go to follow, but my leg gives beneath me. Tim shoots his arm out and grasps me before the cold ground can welcome me into its dark embrace. He sighs, holding my arm—and by extension me—up as if I weighed as much as a babe. “Somehow I knew you only be putting up a front. I should stick you back in bed and be done with it.”

I shake my head emphatically, then hold a hand to it to stop the world from spinning. “I can’t. Please,” I whisper. The words batter my pride. But if begging keeps me from smelling another herb, I’ll happily beg for the rest of my life... however short it may be.

He watches me another moment, a wince crossing his face as he takes in my bandaged torso, but eventually takes my arm and throws it gingerly over his shoulder. He has to bend down in order to not strain my shoulder with his height.

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“A’right. But Sir David is going to have me hide.”

We enter a stream of people, the mage lights highlighting the grey and brown stone and timber buildings thrown together in a mismatch of ragged homes and stores as the streams of people dodge in and out of carriages and horses, many on their way home after a hard day of work. A few gaunt cheeked children meander between the older folks, and I catch the eye of one, flashing a coin and a signal.

Jace throws me his cloak; Tim catches it for me and helps put it on, ignoring stares of interest and disgust from the multitude.

“Much better. You’d give Old Lady McBeth a heart attack with the muscles you tote around,” Jace says.

“Muscles?” Either my brain is especially slow, a possibility, or this man just said something strange—even for a human.

A small body bumps into me, and the boy slips away into the crowd before I can utter a word. Jace and Tim never even looked at the little body now fading from my sight.

“Don’t worry about it. Suffice it to say Ol’ McBeth has a canny eye for young and attractive,” Jace adds, a hint of mischief in his gaze.

My face must show my disbelief and revulsion; they chuckle. I shake my head at the strange ways of men.

“I should’ve stayed wild. I didn’t sign up for this.” They glance at each other with matching expressions of incredulousness, peer back at me... then burst out laughing.

“You," Jace catches his breath before continuing, "you survived broken ribs, stab wounds, and a silver arrow... but can’t face an old woman? Shifter, you are mighty strange."

That's the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me.

No one did.

My cheeks grow red and I grumble about crazy humans and voices in my head that won't leave me alone.

“You better stop, Jace. You’re a goin’ to be killing the shifter with embarrassment,” Tim says with a broad grin, flashing stark white teeth made all the brighter for his dark skin.

The laughter grows louder and a smile tugs at my lips. We slip into a side alley that smells of damp fur and rotting vegetables.

They stop walking in order to better snicker at my expense.

“You two better stop. Or I might decide there are necks worth snapping... like a twig,” I say, feeling the wolf flash into my eyes.

They immediately stiffen, looking over at me with slack jaws. I just smile. A smile that holds both a snarl and elongated canines: sharp, unnatural fangs.

They both put their hands up and back away. Tim's hazel eyes dart to Jace, then back at me, and he stops, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“Now Shifter, w-we were only teasin’,” Jace stammers, almost tripping over a wooden stair in his haste to get away.

I can’t help it any longer. My breath comes out in stuttering gasps as I hold it in with all I am. I lean over and grasp my aching ribs. Both Jace and Tim look at me, then each other. Tim shrugs his shoulders.

“Has he finally lost it?” Jace asks, watching me with the wary gaze of prey, debating if running or playing dead would be more in his favor.

A loud laugh barks out my mouth. “You shoulda seen... your face!” I gasp out between chuckles.

After a few tries, I’m subsequently able to bring myself back under control... even if I'm still snickering. I lean my hand on the wooden wall beside us as I hold my ribs with my other arm. A sticky residue I wish not to think about makes me move my hand over a few inches.

I look them in the eye, making sure they see my sincerity. Would hate to have a pair of enemies based on a misunderstanding. I'd much prefer to make enemies the right way. “I honestly would not hurt the very people who saved my life.”

Both breathe a sigh of relief, then Tim laughs anew. “I thought you were gonna go all Kursk on us. You be having a wicked humor, Shifter,” Tim says.

“Thanks... I think.” My grin is wry.

“So, let’s introduce him to Old Lady Macbeth. She needs a new youngster to sigh over,” Jace says, a wicked, demented grin curving his lips. He rubs his hands together in morbid excitement.

I back away. “I’m not the only one with that humor, Tim.” Jace dogs my steps, and I hastily back peddle faster.

“No!” I choke out as Jace throws my arm over his shoulder, carefully despite his teasing.

He throws me a sly grin and a wink. “Don’t worry, boy, she’ll only gawk at ya. She don’t bite.” He chuckles at his own pun.

I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

My internal voice laughs. That was a good one.

Grand. My own internal voice thinks someone else is funnier than I am.

That's because they are.

Thanks.

My pleasure.

Sometimes not shrieking out my inner frustrations at my inner voice is a chore.

What, do you think someone will think you insane? You should do it anyway. It would be so much fun to watch.

Shut up.

Your wish is my command, Master.