I start to run, but it’s half-hearted. Might as well get it over with.

Someone tackles me. Another pours water over my head.

It takes everything I have not to break arms or snap necks. The ease with which I could steal the breath of the pups around me if I lose control of the swirling depths of darkness within that waits like a prowling panther hits me with a load of bricks in the pit of my stomach. It takes the joy I found in playing with the pack and reminds me why I have been a lone wolf.

I am a danger to each and every Shifter here, whether I kill them by my own hands when startled or those after me take their due… the blood is still on my hands and chills me colder than the ice-cold water racing down my spine.

“Alright, rascals. Back off,” Sir Rey barks.

“Thank… you…” I whisper, trying to regain the care-free persona I’d lost over the last few seconds. I keep my head bent, scarred they may see the assassin in me if I look into the laughing faces.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sir Rey says.

I’m drenched in a waterfall of water from above, and I have two knives drawn before I even glance up. I find my dragon looking entirely too innocent with a big, empty pot hanging from her teeth. Alyssa smiles from MY dragon's back and gives me a little wave.

“Figured you needed a good bath. You stink.”

Gaffaws surround me, and I give both Alyssa and Nova a sarcastic salute. They take the day.

Nova gives me a toothy grin, her horns glistening in the setting sun, before waddling off into the trees, the unmistakable sound of a tree crashing every few seconds causing me to wonder how in all that is good and holy I didn’t know she was there.

We were too busy trying not to kill anyone, Cynic says, concern tightening his voice.

Who knew trying not to kill would be harder than the killing itself.

“Th-that was c-c-c-cold,” I get out through chattering teeth.

“Serves you right, runt. Payback is sweet.” Sir Rey winks and saunters away, chewing on a stick that sends the sharp scent of pine into the air, almost overpowering the fear and uncertainty coming from the man.

He's seen through me. Master Purple would have my hide. But then, he knew me before. He was likely to see through it. But this is a concern for later. Right now, the fire is calling. I hightail it back to the fire with laughing and way too happy pack mates at my back.

~~~

Later comes the dreaded conversation. Sir Rey catches me as I am on lookout duty. I have used the time to prepare myself for what is to come. And to think on what has been and what I hope will be.

My hands clench into fists. I’m a danger to those around me. If I can’t control the dark monster within… no. I cannot think like that. I must to learn to control it.

Without the anger within, it seems more temperate. Less volatile. But in my fear, it almost tempted the bonds I still have around it. And those bonds are unlikely to hold since I haven’t had reason to strengthen them in some time.

You have more knowledge of this. What is it and how do we control it?

You need help of mages. We need help of mages.

I sigh. They hold no love for Shifters.

You asked me how. I told you.

I wanted a doable task.

No, you wanted easy. I give truth, not ease.

His words are accurate. And it causes my fist to clench, uncertainty roiling in my gut at trying to approach those who could tear me to shreds with a single word.

I have not drifted far into their territory for good reason. The Masters hardly ever called any of their slaves to the southern country—and if they did, it was considered a death sentence. Even a highly trained assassin is no match for a magic wielder.

Mages are finicky. Powerful with their own code, they can be the most dangerous creature on this world. But they have one weakness.

The further they are from where their homeland, the less powerful they are. No one outside the mage’s ruling class understands the reason for this. And the mages have single-handedly done what no other nation has been able—keep the Empire at bay. It helps there is a large desert and sea between them, but the true reason is the power the mage’s hold.

And Cynic wants me to infiltrate their country and find out what’s inside me when they are at their most powerful. Great. Just great.

“I could smell the stench from camp. What has you so worried?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I snort, trying to keep my wolf from biting and my man from lashing out at a pack mate. It wouldn’t be reasonable, and I don’t especially have the energy for it. “What do you think?”

“I think the boy I once knew survived horrors I’m not sure I can imagine to be the man he is today.”

He’s got me there. But what truly surprises me is the sorrow that smells like a bitter weed in the air and the tears beading in his eyes he doesn’t allow to fall. I don’t know what to say, or what he wants me to say.

His face shows he sees through my mask, seeing my annoyance. “My prince, what would you have me do? Act as if your past didn’t happen?”

“That would be preferable, yes,” I mumble, going back to sharpening my blade. The soft snick and ring of the blade striking the whetstone rings in my ears with an easy cadence that has grown habitual.

The old man smirks as he sits down beside me, chewing on an evergreen twig. The minty, sharp scent makes me sneeze.

“How can you stand that?” I ask, my nose twitching as I struggle not to sneeze at the overpowering scent.

“My nose isn’t what it once was.”

I shake my head and turn my eyes back to the knife I’m sharpening.

"Where did he send you? You are not the innocent boy who left."

I shouldn’t be surprised, neither at his question nor his insight. He’s as sharp as the scent of his little twig. I turn my eyes to the darkened valley, seeing the typical colors washed in the silver of the moon, the trees bare of leaves as they wait for snowfall. Far into the distance are the mountains capped in snowy white. I watch for anything unusual beneath the trees or gently rolling hills. Everything seems calm. A rat darts across a clearing, barely making it to the opposite end before an owl shrieks.

Sir Rey shrugs, also watching the valley, but his eyes follow a couple silvery birds gliding in the distance beneath the stars in the black abyss. “It was where I woulda sent you. The only safe place is in plain sight. But the difference is I never would’ve sent you off in the first place.”

I finally look at him. And I snatch the twig from his mouth and toss it off.

He looks at me in mock surprise. A rough chuckle escapes me; a sound entirely devoid of humor. “I’m not so naïve. I’ve used this trick once or twice myself.”

"Who are you? What are you?" he almost whispers, his hands twitching in the need to hold something sharp.

I go back to sharpening the knife. "It is unimportant."

He shakes his head.

"You disagree?" I ask.

"You know I do, my prince. There are few places who could have made you this—" he cuts himself off, glancing at me with an unreadable gaze that is almost a mix of a scowl and a grimace, but that doesn't hide the way his heart pounds and a hint of uneasiness mixed with fear filters into the air from his pores.

"Monstrous? Dangerous?" I ask, looking up to meet his gaze straight on.

"Callous," he finally says, his dark eyes watching me with a wariness I'd not wish for in my old friend. "You are not the boy I knew. You almost killed Ben when he grabbed you from the tree. I feared I would need to kill you to prevent you killing my pack when they drenched you in water. What happened, boy? What made you a monster?" he whispers the last so low I almost don't hear it... but I do.

And something I'd run from and tried to hide from peeks its head from the depths of my soul with a vengeance. Blackness seeps from my chest, trying to slither free from my soul.

I hiss out a breath, shoving it back within even as it feels as if it's freezing me from the inside out.

"What are you?" Sir Rey repeats, backing up and putting his back against a tree even as a silver blade glistens in his bare hand as he stands stock still with both the fear of a prey animal and the stalking assurance of a master predator... but one who is unsure if he's met his match with another master predator.

"I am many things, old friend. Monstrous is likely one of them. Callous... yes. I had to be." My quiet confession takes something from me. "But I am also forgiven and working on remembering what makes one alive rather than merely existing." I look up, feeling the coldness in my soul in my gaze as I meet his eyes again.

The pain and sorrow and stark fear in his eyes makes me wince. I'm not so callous as I'd like him to believe. His disbelief in me hurts worse than a stab in the back. He... he was the one who bound the wounds my father inflicted and the only one who believed me over my cousin. Were it not for the belief my father holds in me and the forgiveness of the Allfather, this would have broken me. But the still-healing pieces in my soul are held by the Allfather, and he won't let me go.

Still, this shakes some of the confidence and freedom I had gained, and I feel the numbness of the assassin filtering from the hurt and aching part of me. It covers the pain and helps me think clearly until such a time as I am able to confront the demons within.

It is time for the thoughts and opinions of others to stop mattering. It's time I do what I know is right and needed whether anyone approves of me or my actions... or not.

But that is much easier said than done.

"Sir Rey, I am Roland. I am Alpha. And I am heir to the throne. Am I worse than my cousin that you would take him over me?" My question is genuine. Sometimes the dragon you know is better than the dragon you don't.

He looks away, but sheathes the blade with a sharp snick.

"And here I thought you'd kill me."

That startles a laugh from me. "No. If you'd have poured cold water on me..."

He cracks a grin, coming closer to sit on a rock. He squints at me. "There's still some of you there, isn't there, Lifkar?

My eyes tingle and I look away at the old name I haven't heard in quite some time. Alec once gave me that name because I always had a bleeding heart for the little creatures of the forest. It stuck, almost a derogatory term, even though Alec meant it as a Gift.

"He died," I reply softly, fingering the edge of the now sharpened blade. It slits my finger, and I smile sadly, the coppery tone of blood meeting my nose and overpowering the sharp wariness and almost sweet and minty curiosity from Sir Rey.

"No, he's just hidden," Sir Rey says, getting up and walking back to camp before I can reply.

I'm left staring at his back, unsure what that conversation did.

One thing's for sure. Nova is going to have my hide if I don't tell her my plans soon.

She peeks her head from over the tree at my left, trilling and tilting her head in question. I believe she thought her body was hidden behind the tree... but she's just a bit too wide. It's like trying to hide a bowl behind a toothpick. Doesn't work.

She stomps over, bending her head down and blinking one big brown eye at me in concern. I touch her snout, and she breathes out a soft breath, another trill rumbling her throat.

"What am I to do, Nova? It seems no matter where I go, someone fears me."

I don't.

Thanks. So much, I reply to Cynic, trying not to smile.

I try, he retorts, his voice dry as a desert.

I let the smile crinkle my eyes before I turn my eyes to the peaks in the far distance that holds both my brothers and the village of Were who accepted me.

Tomorrow we will see how cats and dogs mix.

I sigh. I fear this is going to be my greatest regret or greatest achievement.

If I can introduce the Shifters to the Were without casualty... I could die a happy wolf.