I limp over to the blue-eyed youngster, wishing to check on her. She looks up at me with hero worship in her eyes, and I almost wince. I was only doing what anyone would, not enough for her to be looking at me like that.

I bend down on a knee before her, well; I stagger down, truly, but we won’t mention that. The stab wound in my chest is still bleeding and sore, despite healing for a week—Healer Morgana is going to have my hide for getting into a fight and reopening it. But what was I supposed to do, roll over and die? Still, her coming displeasure is—scary. She's scary.

I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. “What’s your name, little cub?” I ask.

“Esmerelda, your grace, but most call me Essie.” She gives a charming curtsy, but winces as she rises.

My own ribs give a pang in sympathy. I wish I hadn’t caused her pain, but I don’t regret saving her.

Her two front teeth are missing, giving her a slight and, quite frankly, too stinking adorable lisp. I'd guess her to be around ten full seasons... which, despite me disagreeing with such matters, is older by two full seasons than many begin their training with the Mothers. Were begin their apprenticeships early, young cubs being seasoned by the Pride Mothers. This

I chuckle, my eyes crinkling in a smile despite my—situation. “I’m no grace, Essie, but thank you for the honor. How are you feeling?”

She draws her chin up, “Royalty are those who act as you did. So you are a grace, your grace. And I’m great!” She replies, fairly bouncing, her hands gesturing with every other word.

I shake my head. Oh, the spirit of youth. I’m still feeling activities from a year past since I’m getting old.

I rustle her hair; she hisses and bats me off, showing pointed teeth.

Getting up... oh boy. The air seems to condense against me, weighing down my shoulders. “Can someone help me up? As much as I'm loathe to admit it, I’m feeling older than my great-grandsire.” I say.

Black grasps my elbow and pulls me to my feet. I give him a nod, even as I get a few slight smirks from the others.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know, but you try getting up after getting attacked by cats.”

A few laugh, but most still watch me warily. Besides the mother and Black, the others are still smarting from our fight.

Ahhhh. If only life could just be easy and they could get over their pride of being beaten by a Shifter.

“We need to get you back to camp, Shifter. Our Imperial will wish to meet you.” The Black says.

I glance from Black to the others. I really don’t wish to travel with these folks. Black, little Essie, and her mother I’m fine with, but the others have enough prideful anger in their eyes to stab me in the back first chance they get. Or at least challenge me in order to get another crack at it, but I don’t feel another fight in me. Not now.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Thanks for the offer, but I need to return to the city.” I say, my quiet words clipped.

“That’s not a request, Shifter.” The mother says, if not unkindly, definitely with an edge.

I glance around with narrow eyes. The only thing I get back is unblinking, challenging stares. I stifle a growl. Seems I’m to be a prisoner, after all.

“Pleassse come and meet grandpa? He’s tha bessstest!” I look down at the girl, and where I was prepared for a fight, I can’t risk hurting her or one of her friends or loved ones.

I’m getting soft in my old age.

I run a hand through my hair, and it pulls at the wound in my chest that's been feeling oh so much worse since my pool dive last night.

A low rumble escapes my chest at both the pain and the feeling of being trapped. Again.

“Fine. But if I decide to leave after meeting him, do I have your word that you will not hold me against my will, nor bound in action nor deed nor threat so that I cannot leave?” I address the mother cat, who seems to be the leader of this group.

They exchange glances, and a lithe, slightly short Were glares at me. His lip curls up in a snarl, showing pointed teeth like that of a vampire.

I match his glare by showing my wolf. His eyes flash, but the next instant He backs down... before my wolf gave him a lesson, wounded or not.

“Deal.” The mother says at last. “We just wish you to meet his grace. You can ride the berserk.”

“Don’t think you’d make it otherwise.” Black says under his breath. I glare at him, but his bright smile says he doesn’t care what I think; or what I heard.

I stifle a chuckle. I like him, although he’s a cat.

They break camp, and I would do nothing, but my ma taught me better.

She’d have my hide, prisoner or free man, if I didn’t show some manners.

I grab a bucket and douse the flames, then help the others pack up their hammocks. Which happen to be at least half-way up most of the trees. They toss them down and I make quick work of turning them inside out and strapping them up. It’s an ingenious and well-designed setup, if complicated.

I finish tying the last strap, my back and chest slicked with sweat and the torn stitches dribbling with fresh blood and dying the bandages someone haphazardly threw on a dark crimson.

I lean against a tree, putting my forehead to the cool bark.

“You didn’t have to help us, you know.” The mother says, pressing some bandages into my hands.

I give her a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, but I prefer to show some manners, even if I am a prisoner.”

She stoically stands her ground, her eyes cataloguing every move I make like the predator she is. Her pupil slits with something she sees. “Not a prisoner. An honored guest. You’ll see with time.”

I huff. “Honored guest. Sure. Are all your honored guests made to attend their feast of honor when they’re worried about a village dying before they can return?” I shut my lips with an internal wince, afraid I have said too much. I can't even blame this one on tea.

Her silver eyes soften a hair, going back to rounded pupils. “You’re worried about Videlia?”

I grit my teeth and nod.

She sighs, and I can’t help but think her posture relaxes some as well.

“We heard of the attack. The jingoists won’t return for some time, but I have scouts around the village and outlaying paths. I’ll know when they return, in plenty of time to help the city—should it come to that.”

My eyes widen a fraction before I can temper my surprise. “You would help the city? Why?”

She shrugs, the nonchalance tempered by flashing eyes. “We’re neighbors, are we not? Besides, we have friends there, too. You aren’t the only one who was worried.”

I test the air and only get the sweet, slightly spicy cinnamon scent of sincerity.

My shoulders give a fraction, and a weight I didn’t know was there, lifts. “That... helps. Thank you.”

She begins to drift away, but looks back. “I was wondering—were you avoiding our company because we stink as bad as you?”

I gape at her. I didn’t know she had a sense of humor... even a bad one. Her eyes spark even as her lips press in a thin line as she walks away to help finish getting the Berserk packed.

Woman. Who can understand their wiles?

I couldn't agree more.