Marcus

The forest was alive with sound: the whisper of leaves, the occasional call of a distant owl, the rhythmic chirp of crickets. But above it all, I could hear the faint rustle of Orion’s wings as he circled overhead, a shadow against the silvered moon. He’d been our silent scout, sweeping through the dense woods and the well-worn paths of the king’s supply line. His sharp eyes missed nothing.

"How close are they?" William whispered, crouching beside me behind a moss-covered log. The faint glow of moonlight caught his profile, his jaw set with determination. The morning star, a brutal weapon of chain and spikes, rested against his thigh. It was new to him, a replacement for tools he’d left behind as a baker, and I’d seen him practicing with it for weeks. Still, this would be his first real fight.

"Close," I replied, scanning the shadows ahead. I glanced up, catching a flash of movement. Orion’s wings shifted subtly, his trajectory altering. He’d spotted something. "Maybe a hundred yards out. A wagon and a few guards, like we expected."

William nodded, his hand tightening on the morning star’s handle. "Good. Let’s hope this works."

"It’ll work," I said firmly, trying to sound confident for both our sakes. "The choke point up ahead is perfect. They won’t have room to maneuver."

He took a deep breath, and I could see the flicker of nerves in his eyes. "You’ll cover me, right?"

"Always," I said, gripping his shoulder briefly. "We’ve got this."

I slung my bow over my shoulder and led the way through the underbrush, careful not to make a sound. The supply line—a narrow dirt track hemmed in by dense trees—was just ahead. We’d scouted it for days, tracking the patterns of the king’s supply wagons. Tonight was our chance to strike.

Orion descended swiftly, landing silently on a low branch. His amber eyes locked on me, and I knew what he was telling me. The wagon was approaching.

I gestured to William, and we slipped into position. He crouched on one side of the path, hidden by a tangle of brambles, while I climbed a sturdy oak that overlooked the road. My perch gave me a clear view of the track below. I knocked an arrow, the familiar tension of the bowstring a steadying presence in my hands.

The wagon appeared moments later, trundling into view. Two guards walked alongside it, torches in hand, their heavy boots crunching against the dirt. A third man sat on the driver’s bench, reins loose in his hands. They were armed but relaxed, their posture suggesting they weren’t expecting trouble.

"Now," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

William burst from the undergrowth with a roar, his morning star swinging in a deadly arc. The guard nearest him had no time to react; the spiked ball crashed into his chest with a sickening thud, sending him sprawling to the ground. The second guard shouted in alarm, drawing his sword, but I released my arrow before he could advance. The shaft struck true, burying itself in his throat. He dropped, gurgling, to his knees.

The driver panicked, fumbling for a blade, but William was already there. With surprising speed for someone wielding such a heavy weapon, he brought the morning star down on the man’s arm, disarming him. The driver howled in pain, clutching his shattered limb, and fell from the bench.

"Secure the wagon!" I called, scanning the trees for any additional threats. Another arrow was already nocked, ready to fly.

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William climbed onto the wagon, his chest heaving from the effort. He checked the crates—grain, dried meat, barrels of something heavy. Supplies the king’s men wouldn’t see again.

"All clear!" he called back. His voice was steady, but I could see the adrenaline coursing through him, the way his hands gripped the morning star tightly.

"Good. Let’s take what we can and burn the rest," I replied, sliding down from the tree. Together, we worked quickly, sorting through the wagon’s contents. We filled our sacks with dried meat, grain, and other non-perishables that would sustain us through the lean months ahead. It wasn’t much, but it would make a difference.

Once we had taken all we could carry, we unhitched the horses, slapping them on the flanks to send them running. Then we overturned the wagon, spilling the remaining contents across the path. With a spark from my flint, the dry wood caught fire, flames licking hungrily at the supplies. Smoke billowed into the night sky, a signal to the rebellion—and a warning to the king’s forces.

"They’ll come looking for this," William said, watching the fire consume the wagon.

"Let them," I replied. "By the time they find it, we’ll be long gone."

He grinned, the tension in his posture easing slightly. "Not bad for my first fight, huh?"

"Not bad at all," I agreed, clapping him on the back. "You handled yourself well."

But as we melted back into the forest, Orion soaring overhead to guide our retreat, I couldn’t shake the image of William in the heat of battle. There had been something fierce and determined in his movements, a side of him I’d never seen before. It was thrilling… and unsettling.

"You okay?" I asked as we jogged through the trees.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah. Just… it’s different. Doing it for real."

I didn’t press him. The first fight was always the hardest. Instead, I offered him a faint smile. "You’ll get used to it."

He didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary. Then we pushed on, the forest closing in around us as the fire’s glow faded into the distance.

By the time we reached the base, the weight of the night’s events had settled over us. The warmth of it was a relief, the smell of wood smoke and faint herbs a welcome change from the metallic tang of blood and sweat that clung to us.

"I’m going to take a bath," William muttered, already shrugging off his gear. The morning star clattered onto the table, and I nodded, busying myself with sorting the supplies we’d brought back.

When he returned, his damp hair curling slightly from the steam, he looked more relaxed—until he rolled his shoulder with a grimace.

"Something wrong?" I asked, glancing up.

"Sore shoulder," he said, rubbing at it with a wry smile. "That morning star’s no joke. I think I overdid it."

I chuckled, setting the sack of grain aside. "Isaac left some tinctures for muscle pain. Want me to get one for you?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? If it works."

I retrieved the small vial of tincture and a clean cloth, holding them up. "You’ll need to let me rub it in. It works better that way."

William raised an eyebrow, his smile turning mischievous. "So, you’re offering me a massage now?"

I felt heat creep up my neck but kept my expression neutral. "If it means you won’t be whining about your shoulder tomorrow, yes."

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing as he sat down. "Just don’t get too carried away."

I rolled my eyes and moved behind him, pouring some of the tincture onto my hands. The scent of herbs filled the air as I started kneading his shoulder. His skin was warm under my fingers, and I focused on the tension in his muscles, working out the knots as he sighed in relief.

"You’re good at this," he murmured, his voice softer now.

"Don’t get used to it," I replied, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. But as I worked, I noticed the way he leaned into my touch, the quiet trust in the way he let me take care of him. It was a simple moment, but it felt significant in a way I couldn’t quite name.

His breathing slowed, and the tension in his shoulder melted away under my hands. For a long time, neither of us spoke, the silence comfortable and warm. When I finally stepped back, I wiped my hands on the cloth, avoiding his gaze for fear he’d see too much in mine.

"Better?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"Much," he said, his voice low. He stood, rolling his shoulder with a grin. "Guess I’ll have to keep you around."

"Don’t push your luck," I shot back, but my tone lacked any real bite. As he headed to his cot, I couldn’t help but watch him go, my chest tight with emotions I wasn’t ready to name. For now, the mission was done, the supplies safe, and William… William was still here. That was enough.