“I want to go. Essie's going. You’re going. I wanna go.”

I nod, accepting my brother's words at face value.

“Then let’s get you ready. It’ll be cold, long, and desperate. But choice has been taken from you too often. I will leave what I can in your hands.”

He crashes into my legs, almost toppling me.

“Thank you, kino.”

I smile, feeling my eyes crinkle. “You’re welcome, bud.”

I hope this isn't a mistake. Barry doesn't understand yet what he may be getting into. The journey will be long and hard... but so is life. At least with me, I can keep him safe, especially since this will only be a scouting trip. What could go wrong?

Famous last words, Cynic says in the back of my mind.

~~~

“Ya shouldn’t be goin'. Ya haven't healed yet,” Healer Morgana admonishes. “And you, by golly, shouldn’t be taking the kid. He’s too young.”

She bustles up, following me into the little round shack Barry and I have called home for the short time we've been in the village. I bend down to get through the door, the thwack of her cane on the hard packed ground ringing in my ears as her head clears it by feet.

I try to stand straight, but wince when pain flares through my ribs. The consistent lifting and moving to help the Were prepare for a long journey hasn't been kind to my recovering body. The knowledge I should've healed long before now is a constant worry in the back of my mind, but I’m holding onto the hope the silver took a toll that caused this and will recede in time.

I’m healing slow as a human, even with Cynic taking The Beast on more often to give my internal walls time to unwind. It allows my strength to channel into the physical wounds instead of holding the cage, but after a certain point... It’s almost as if there's a wall and past it, it won’t heal any farther.

The wounds still reopen with every shift to wolf; the slash on my leg from Commander Vex has yet to heal despite stitches; and my ribs still bother me from breaking almost a full month past.

It’s been three weeks since the battle with the jingoist. I’ve been sitting on my haunches most of that time, getting to further know the Imperial and Flash. You wouldn’t know it to glance at the two, but they have much in common. The two are devious apart... but together? They are scary, especially adding Zephora to the mix.

Never make them enemies, idiot. They'd juperoll us quicker than a gilderol on Rush.

I have no idea what you just said, but I agree.

Gilderol were once many in this world. They would clench an enemy with unforgiving claws and roll their bulk over it until there was nothing left but pulp.

That... is terrifying. Thank you for such an image.

You're welcome.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I shake my head as I grab another gift from the Were, pushing the dagger into the sheath. The imagery from Cynic a bit much, but I agree. The leaders of this village would indeed juperoll an enemy into pulp. And they about did such a thing to me... even if unintentionally.

It about drove me crazy, being a lone wolf until I stumbled upon this quaint little place that acts more like a family than any village I’ve seen. Now I can’t seem to find a single moment for myself.

If I sneak out, Flash is there to rambunctiously herd me to wherever there’s food. Should I be awake and seeking alone time in the middle of the night, there is always a guard outside the door, window, and someone watching the roof—usually with a dead rat, bird or other small animal they present to me as if it were some gifting with a wide grin. If I find my way up a tree, Morgana shouts at me to come down before I pull something. If I try to go swimming in freezing cold water... you get the point. As an assassin, you’d think me better equipped for stealth.

Well... I am... but I don’t feel up to knocking heads together to escape from stealthier cats than any Shifter assassin I've ever met. They are made for stealth that took me years to develop; much to my chagrin.

Heather went home on my third day in the village, both to check on her little one, Shasta, and to be sure everyone was recovering well under the apprenticing healer since Morgana followed me out here and stayed.

I would be flattered, except for the fact Morgana barely disguises she isn’t here for me. She has spent more time around the Imperial than I have, which is saying quite a lot. A small smile crosses my face at the thought. I'm happy for them. They seem very... deserving of each other.

“Thank you for the concern. Barry… he’s been through much, but I won’t take this from him. Zephora has promised to protect him and Essie and the other apprentices. But I cannot stand aside, nor do I plan on dying. Besides, who would ya have to practice on then?” I throw a small grin her way, but it’s tempered by an uncomfortable pull of the wound in my leg when I twist. My grimace is concealed beneath a wry grin, but a single lifted brow and pursed lips show I haven’t fooled her a bit.

“Let me see. Won’t do to have ya going into battle with bones grindin' on each other.” She motions with a come hither flick of her knobby fingers.

I reluctantly raise the front of my tunic. She’d badger me until I relented; ask how I know.

“Hmm. Have ya ever healed this slowly before?” She runs her hand along the gashes I received from the Were over a month past, ignoring my flinch. The gashes are still a raised and appear almost like a rash, but they are healing, adding more jagged scars to my skin.

I shake my head, a slight slump to my shoulders. “These wounds should have healed in a week. Less on a full moon.”

She retreats and I let the shirt drop, a frown deepening the wrinkles around her mouth. “I suspect your body has been through too much at such a young age. Not to mention your soul is as scarred as the rest of ya. It needs healing, and perhaps the wounds there have been left to fester.”

Her piercing eyes pin me in place, flashing golden for a split second.

“How is one to deal with wounds of the heart? Unseen. Unknown—” I whisper as I drop from her gaze.

“Alone,” she finishes for me. “Lad, ya should know ya’re not alone any longer. But ya shan’t trust us enough to let us help, eh?” she says, her weathered, sharp eyes gracing me with such understanding it makes me want to retreat.

I try to shake it off, but she’s hit a bit too close to home for comfort.

“I try,” I say shortly, rubbing the back of my head.

“Aww, hon, I know. I’m here if ya ever need anything.”

I impulsively give her a hug. I’m not the affectionate type, but she’s gone far beyond what most would've for a stranger. Her body is stiff before she softens and pats my back with the hand not holding her cane. Her scent of herbs and flowery magic mixes with a hint of surprised affection, coloring the surrounding air with sweet scents.

With an awkward cough, I pull back, moving as if I'm a gangly teenager just coming into his limbs. I trip over a stool, then right it with shaking fingers. Who knew giving a hug to anyone other than my brothers would be so hard? Granted, she is a scary lady who is more than she seems... perhaps my nerves are warranted.

She cackles out a laugh, her mouth morphing into a grin that shows missing teeth and deepens the wrinkles around her eyes.

I grab my bundle and pack and head out the door without meeting her eyes. Her laugher and good-natured, citrus-scented amusement follows me out the door, somehow making my heart lighter.

It’s time to see about some dragons.