The dungeon master, some great-grand generation back, became lazy with the waste generated by the prisoners. He hated the stink, hated the filth, and hated his post. He had the prisoners of the time tunnel down to an underground stream, thus giving himself a bathing area and eliminating the need to pay for a public bathhouse.

It later transformed into the Bucket Brigade. Buckets of waste and slop are deposited in these waters and left to nurture the trees and grasses on downstream, where the small river emerges into a lush and generous vegetation.

The Town Dungeon Keepers so generously provide the fertilizer needed for the vegetation to flourish.

What most don’t know? The original master made a way to sneak concubines into the bathing chambers, after which he eliminated the prisoners he used to make the tunnel.

Pleasant, right?

But his paranoia and ill-tastes make it to where I can now emerge from the dark dungeon in the midst of trees just outside the city walls of Greyston. All I can say is thank all that is good and holy it's not spring, or we'd be leaving the city by boat.

Greyston is a medium-sized city built on a small rise in the center of a large wetland area that floods in spring with the icy waters coming off the mountains as it thaws. The city has a large ring of grates along the lower portions of the outside walls, which leads excess waters to an underground river, keeping the city from being a flooded marsh like the rest of the valley.

The city flourishes off what is both its curse and blessing. When the floods recede, Greyston cultivates the drying areas for rice and other wetland produce. The floods bring in the minerals and decomposing materials it takes for plants and animal life to flourish.

Flash takes one look at my little brother in my arms and hisses out a breath. Heather emerges behind me, and she shakes her head when his eyes question her, asking silently if we got the others.

The pity and compassion in the countenance of the cats around me is too much.

Morgana is waiting for me, so I shove past Flash, placing my brother on the prepared blanket. I roll him gently to his stomach in a smooth and practiced movement.

The wounds look worse out here in the torchlight, the festering creating jagged black edges and puss leak from the wounds themselves.

“I ain't gona lie, deary. This looks bad,” Morgana says in her straightforward manner, pulling no punches.

Despite, or perhaps because of her words, she immediately gets to work. She dips her hands in a dark sap.

“I need a place ta work. I can’t do what needs done here. He needs warmth out of the weather.” She says, slathering ointment on the wounds and gently coaxing tea down Barry's throat.

Most of the black stuff ends up coughed back up… but the immediate release of his muscles and the soft sigh from his lips helps ease some of the pinching in my chest.

I don’t realize I’m subconsciously rubbing the skin over my heart until Heather sets a hand on my arm, making me jump.

Her kind eyes encapsulate me, but she immediately drops the hand from my arm. Her gentle smile says more than words.

“I know where we can go. But it’ll be an hour of hard travel. Can,“ my voice chokes off and I cough, “can he make it?”

Morgana meets my gaze with a frankness I should expect. “I will do everything in my power to make it so. Pack up. It’s time to ride like the wild wind ya were born to.”

I nod and turn on my heel to gather mine and Heather's horses as she assists Morgana with Barry.

His pale skin and the streaking black lines on his small back replay through my mind, his whimpers hurting something deep inside. I punch a tree, causing a squawk from an opinionated crow to emerge from above.

“Sorry,” I whisper to it and the tree, moving before anyone else can question me and my questionable ways of expending frustration.

A cat-call pierces the night air. A sentry calling a warning. My head snaps up.

Something hints in the air other than cat stench and the horse and leather in front of me, something broken and oily and faintly Shifter.

My stomach clenches. Growls arise from around the direction of the city wall, some three miles away.

Golden lights at chest level shine through the darkening of the light, twinkling in between the undergrowth of the large red and yellow vines and brambles. The muddy marsh is not easy to get through, but these men are determined.

"Yes, my pets. Bring us ever closer. You will be rewarded."

My blood runs cold as Heather stiffens beside Flash. He gives one sniff of the air and his eyes dilate into slits.

We stand on one side of the stream, the water burbling with peaceful laughter belied by the scene emerging from the opposite end of silky frond leaves and umbrella trees being the last to lose their leaves to the cold.

The company of jingoist who took me and my family stand on the other side of the river that flows under Greyston. Two enslaved wolves lead them, their hides matted and lips pulled in a silent snarl, showing white gums and broken teeth.

Footsteps and whispering paws on the waterlogged sand of the surrounding terrain comes from behind me.

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Striding forward on either side of me comes Were in human and cat form. It is a battle line with me at the center head. Heather comes up beside me, a smile in her gleaming silver eyes as if she knows just what this means to me.

The last time I fought these pitiful excuses for humans, I was alone, trying to protect the family at my back. I failed.

This time? This time I'm not alone.

And that... it changes everything.

"Don't cry," Flash says with a hiss.

I glare at him, vowing to myself that I will never admit just how close he came to truth with his needling words.

Wolves don't cry.

Bows raise on the other side of the wide stream with wolfsbane at their tips. The drug stings my nose with its sickly sweet scent.

My lips lift in a snarl.

The Beast at my core roils with rage, but I keep it on a tight leash. There will be no slaughter of my companions today, not if I can help it.

Go, Roland. I've got this. The inner voice grunts, strain apparent in what should be my voice... right?

What? I whisper back.

I will take care of your Gift. You focus on keeping Heather safe.

My what? And why do we need to keep Heather safe?

Idiot. Protect heather or I let your Beast loose. Don't fail me.

Don't threaten me. I growl. You are me.

Don't fail me. Don't fail Heather, it again threatens.

The internal pressure I've always associated with The Beast recedes, leaving me with an absence of stress I haven't had in a very long time.

My wounds stitch together, slower than usual still, but not the human slowness of the past few weeks. It's as if the strain from keeping The Beast caged was taking most of my energy, leaving none in reserve for the physical marks on my skin. The stab wound over my heart is the first to ease, and I rub it in amazement. I've become so used to the ache there, and now that it eases, the rest of me feels stronger than I have in a very long time.

Why haven't you done this before? Anger roils in my breast, but without the need to keep The Beast leashed... I'm free to feel in ways I haven't since I was a child. There is something amazing in being able to feel without worrying about the consequences of my anger releasing the bonds of my infernal Beast.

Focus, doofus, and do as I say when I say it. Get that human and make him pay. Just make sure Heather is safe.

With pleasure, I growl back, still unsure exactly what the voice is referring to and what it's doing, but now is not the time.

But when this is over, you will answer my questions, I think to it. A vague emotion comes from within, and I don't know what to make of it. It's a mixture of resignation and something else I can't quite name.

A different, sing-song voice that has haunted my nightmares draws my eyes back into focus, the humans on the other side grinning in anticipation of blood.

"We meet again. I should say the taste of your mother... she is delightful. Her screams as I let the blood run free on the boy. What a pleasure!"

A howl of pure fury sticks in my chest, emerging in a strangled bark as I step forward, the change to the half-man beast already enfolds me in its grasp. The Beast roils, but them tames under the unnerving control of my internal voice.

A hand on my chest makes me look down. I'm tempted to toss the one in front aside with a sweep of my arm, but the scent of lavender calms me from the inside out, and I know I cannot hurt her, even to get her out of the way in order to better exact my revenge on the human.

Don't you dare, the internal voice growls.

"Roland." My name on her lips causes me to pause further, the hurt and pain and absolute fury in the one word resonating with my own.

That's when I remember who this man is. What he took from her. A sound emerges from the depths of my chest, a roar of anger and rage so deep it seems a part of me. The sound makes the limbs and fronds above me bend backwards in the face of my verbalized fury.

Were The Beast not lashed by the voice within, it would've killed those around me in the face of my wrath. Thank goodness for that voice which has been a bane of my existence.

The hand on my chest remains, even as cries of panic sound from the humans across the river and the cats let out pitiful wails.

My muzzle tilts back down to nuzzle her soft cheek, filling my nose with the scents of lavender and pine. She watches me warily, but without fear, as my chest heaves and my heart pounds with the forces seething around it.

"Roland. Stay with us. Stay with me," she whispers, the heartbreak in her words allotting just how much she knows, just how much she feels, just how much she is in this with me.

I huff, my breath feathering along her neck and teasing at strands of black silk escaping from the confines of her bun.

She smiles sadly, her eyes a rictus of sorrow, empathy, and an emotion I can't quite define. But I feel it's somewhere between hope and pride.

"Let's do this, kinko. Together."

"Together. Thank you, krisha." My voice is a low growl somewhere between the vocal chords of man and beast, both and neither.

But she doesn't seem to care, gifting me with a pure smile that softens the lines of her face and makes her face shine in the beauty of the moonlight. She isn't classically beautiful, but her kindness shines with an inner beauty I haven't ever had the pleasure to witness.

In that moment, I realize just how much of a gift she is. Because this is the first time... she still has her hand on my chest. And I did not flinch.

She nods, stepping back and taking the peace in the middle of this storm from me.

"What a touching moment." I jump when Commander Vex claps his hands, the J-shaped scar twisting with his mocking grin. "You both will be mighty trophies in my collection, don't you agree, my pets?" He sets his hands atop the grey and silver beasts flanking him.

Thier eerie sightless eyes stare into a blank abyss.

"I shall enjoy tasting you again soon, sweet Heather. I have waited for quite some time on you." His tongue snakes out to lick his lips.

I growl, stepping in front of Heather as she shivers. If I know anything, it's suppressed memories and just how much power they can have over you in the present.

"You won't touch anyone ever again." My voice is a low timber, the softness there at odds with the rage inside that isn't all my own.

The cynical voice vibrates in anger, and The Beast roils as the voice releases some of its hold.

Hold steady, whatever you are. Don't lose control or we will be the ones to kill her.

The feeling of rage immediately pulls back and controls the roiling cage of darkness.

Protect her, it says, almost desperately. And that's when the fear it feels transfers to me and makes me shiver.

It's terrified of losing Heather. Who is she to it?

"Oh, pish posh. You are so serious. Don't you have any fun? You will when you are mine. The games we shall play!"

"This guy is sick in the head. Can I kill him now?" Flash asks, pulling back the fletching on a bow with an arrow knocked.

I stare at the cat. Did he really just ask me that?

He shrugs a shoulder, holding back the large longbow with barely a grunt. "What? I figured you might want first rights on smashing this guy to smithereens. But if not, I'd be gratified to put my ears out of their misery."

I gesture to him with a half-bow, and he grins with pointy teeth.

"One shot murder coming right up!" he declares with a smile that is way too happy.

Heather giggles behind me, something about the sound loosening the bonds about my heart and making the internal voice sigh.

The arrow releases, aiming straight for Commander Vex's chest. The strength and velocity of the shot should be enough to knock the man through a few small trees swaying in the breeze behind him.

A grey form materializes in front of Commander Vex, taking the bolt without so much as a whimper.

Heather gasps behind me. A whine sticks in my throat.

"No," Flash mumbles.

It seems to take an eternity for the wolf to fall; the arrow quivering near the heart of the Shifter, killing her instantly.

Then all Sixth breaks lose.