The village was still fairly quiet this time of morning. The baker and a few of the farmers had risen, and Dean, the goat herder. The long shadows of dawn were easy enough for Rassa to weave through on his way home.

Cordon was not large, perhaps only eighty or so buildings. Cordon was only home to roughly two hundred individuals, and the Baron who was their Liege Lord did not appear to have plans for expansion. He did not even have a family of his own. The main streets of Cordon were built in a Y-formation: a singular road to the west, which was the only road out of town; one to the north-east, which led to the orchard and stopped on the west side of the field that separated the village from the forest; and the final main road going south-east towards the Baron’s estate and the Knights Barracks. Every village, no matter how small, had a Knights Barracks, even if, like Cordon, they only had four knights to speak of – including the Captain.

The three roads intersected near the centre of town, with skinny lanes, just wide enough to lead a single horse between, branching off them and leading to the cottages of the locals. The cottage where Rassa lived was located in the south-west of town. It had just four rooms, including the wood room, which was running low now that they were at the tail end of winter. Rassa usually brought a few branches back to stock it up when he went out at night, but in his excitement he had completely forgotten. This was only really an afterthought as he went around the back of the cottage and slipped through his open window into his small bedroom.

Rassa could hear his father shifting around in the next room as he dressed. Usually, Rassa wouldn’t stay out this late. But his trip to Varkevia and his pre-dawn hunt had meant that he’d spent the whole night outside. Rassa was pacing back and forth, wondering if he should disturb his father’s routine to tell him of his achievement – and likely wake his mother in the process – or just wait until later, when his father knocked lightly on his bedroom door.

“Rassa? Are you—‍”

Rassa flung the door open, unable to keep the grin from his face nor the spark of excitement from his eyes. His father looked down at his still-muddy boots and damp jacket.

“Did you only just get home?” he whispered, having caught Rassa’s door before it smacked the wall and woke his wife.

Rassa glanced at the door of his parents’ room with some concern, but he heard no movement beyond her ordinary breathing.

Phillip saw Rassa’s look and ushered his son back inside the bedroom, following him in and closing the door behind him.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what I discovered tonight! It could mean that I could be more human, more normal! It could mean I don’t have to—” Rassa paused his whispered excitement for a moment before he spoke at an even lower volume, “It could mean I don’t have to kill anymore.”

Phillip’s shocked expression spoke volumes, especially when followed by the same joy that Rassa felt.

“I … how?” he asked.

Rassa grinned, “Well, it started when I went to the night market in Varkevia—‍”

Phillip blanched, “Hang on, Varkevia?”

Rassa felt a little sheepish upon revealing his achievement, “Yeah … to see the night market.”

Phillip frowned, “You went to Varkevia and back last night?”

Phillip was aware of the changes Rassa had undergone, but no doubt the prospect of doing a six-week journey in a single night was a shock.

“No one caught me,” Rassa said to reassure him, then huffed almost pridefully. “Not that anyone could. Besides, I’ve never been outside of Cordon so it’s not like I’d be recognised.”

Phillip sighed, taking a seat on his son’s bed, “That may be the case, but you should have at least told me before making a trip like that. What if you hadn’t come back?”

Rassa shrugged, “Sorry, but anyway, I was strolling along in the night market and …”

Rassa proceeded to tell the events of the last few hours.

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

When he was done, Phillip could not help but frown.

“Are … are you not happy about this?” asked Rassa, his eyes looking at his father expectantly. Hadn’t they both wanted this ever since the Incident?

Phillip’s eyes widened, “Oh, no, don’t misunderstand. I’m overjoyed that you’ve made this discovery, I’m just a little concerned.”

“About the hunters?” asked Rassa. Phillip had taught Rassa how to be cautious even before the Incident. To keep an eye out and pay attention.

Phillip nodded, “You’re sure the buck was moving before you left?”

Rassa opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again when the last memory of the buck came to the forefront of his mind. He then opened it once more, “It was twitching, so I’m pretty sure.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow.

“Dad, even if they catch the buck, surely they’d think of a snake or something,” Rassa reasoned.

Phillip sighed. It was true after all, they would hardly think of something such as Rassa being the culprit. Rassa hadn’t even heard folk tales of creatures like the monster within him, let alone heard of an actual incident. Even if it was the wrong time of year, a snake was the first conclusion one would draw from the shape of the wound Rassa’s fangs left.

“And you’re sure you covered your tracks?” asked Phillip.

“Positive,” said Rassa, his gaze unwavering.

Phillip sighed, rising up to place a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Very well, if you’re sure. But remember to continue to be cautious, son. I am happy for you, and you should celebrate, but don’t get careless along with it.”

Rassa nodded, a smile on his lips at his father’s approval, “Of course, Dad.”

Phillip smiled back at his son, meeting his gaze for a moment as if he was in deep thought, then he turned and opened Rassa’s bedroom door to walk out, “Get some rest, they’ll be expecting you to help with the firewood in a couple of hours.”

Rassa nodded, brushing his father’s hand from his head gently – he was surely too old for such signs of affection now – before he removed his jacket and shirt. Rassa felt it the moment his father paused in the doorway and glanced at the obsidian lines that nearly mirrored each other on either side of Rassa’s spine. Remnants of the Incident. The mark of a monster. It always unsettled Rassa for others to look at it. It felt wrong. Even if it was his father.

He tensed, and felt it when Phillip quickly averted his eyes, knowing better than to gaze upon the Life Lines of any individual. Rassa had been taught since he’d received that mark that it was a tfor others to look at them, though those without could never truly understand why.

The door clicked shut, and Rassa released a breath as he kicked off his boots and climbed into bed.

The calming voice of his mother woke Rassa a little over an hour later.

“Rassa, hon, Jane’s here,” said Anna softly as she lightly tapped her son’s shoulder to wake him. Rassa blinked his eyes open, looking up into his mother’s warm, dark eyes.

“Am I late?” he asked as he huffed out a breath.

“Not yet,” said Anna. “But you will be if you don’t dress quickly. And why have you brought your muddy boots in here?”

Anna picked them up as she stood, sweeping up his shirt and jacket as well.

“Sorry, Mum.”

Anna hummed in acknowledgment as she left the room, closing the door behind her for Rassa to dress.

He went to his small dresser, pulling out a clean tan-coloured shirt to pull over his head, then retrieving one of his hooded leather jackets. The deep hood had been a great relief to his straining eyes after the Incident. He no longer stepped outside during the day without one on, even in the height of summer when most thought of it as too hot to wear even a shirt.

Rassa would never be one to take off his shirt anyway given that he had no desire to advertise his Life Lines.

Taking out a new pair of socks, Rassa pulled them on too as he opened his bedroom door, stumbling a little as he tried to do too many things at once with his hands.

Jane sat waiting for him opposite his mother at the table. She was dressed in a plain cotton dress with woollen tights and overcoat for the cold weather outside.

“… I hear it’s bigger than the horse the Baron keeps! I didn’t think they could get that big in winter!”

Rassa straightened as Anna and Jane both turned to look at him, “What’s bigger than a horse?”

“The deer that Jacob and Oscar brought back!” Jane grinned. “You should see its antlers, they’re as big as this table! Oh, and they think it’s enough meat to feed the whole village for a week!”

Rassa frowned, “A buck? At this time of year?”

“I know!” Jane gushed, “I haven’t had that much meat for three months!”

“I’ll send your father to get our share, Rassa,” Anna smiled. Clearly Phillip hadn’t mentioned Rassa’s early-morning escapade.

“Right …”

“Come on, they’re probably still in the square, we’ll see it on the way to the orchard,” Jane said enthusiastically as she stood from the table.

Rassa stepped over to his mother and kissed her on the cheek, “Have a good day, Mum.”

“Have a good day,” Anna smiled. Rassa made his way to the door, picking up his still-muddy boots from where he was supposed to leave them and pulling them on as Jane talked animatedly about her dream from the night before. Rassa was only half paying attention, his mind still on the buck. It was the same one, it had to be. No way would two bucks of that size share a singular territory peacefully.

“… and then, I brandished my sword and did away with all the Diggorys, saving us all from the fate of being his slaves!”

Rassa raised an eyebrow as he tuned back in to the progression of her story, “Slaves?”

Jane sighed, “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Rassa stood, “I just woke up.”

Jane huffed in frustration, “Fine, I’ll tell it again, but you better listen to this epic tale! The Travelling Bards will surely sing about it in years to come!”

Rassa smiled in amusement and headed off with Jane towards the orchards.