Ben gave his head a sharp shake, casting off the last vestiges of his vivid memories, and continued to forge his way through the trees.

He didn’t care if Spidena left his side now that she knew what he used to be.

If she was right and big magic tied them together? Then she’d be back. And if she was wrong? Wonderful. Everything was simple again.

Despite hours passing by as Ben tromped through the Drebin Forest, he didn’t bother checking to see if Spidena was behind him or what kind of face she was making.

He pushed his mind into the space of white noise for the rest of the morning, and then by lunch time, he acknowledged he was hungry. However he didn’t want to risk having to sit down and see Spidena and hear anything else she had to say. So he pushed on.

It wasn’t until the light started to dim that a certain raven landed on a jagged overgrown stump in front of Ben that he stopped.

He stared at Wolf for a second, then stepped to the left, only the bird flapped its impressively large wings at him.

Ben frowned but took two more steps before the bird launched itself at his head.

“What the-” Ben narrowly dodged its sharp beak.

Which also happened to make him turn enough to realize that Spidena was behind him… by about twenty feet.

But she didn’t look well.

All color had drained from her lips, her face was tinged with green, her eyes that had been tired at the start of the journey were fluttering, her knees were buckling…

During this pause she grasped the nearest tree—a maple only twelves years old or so.

“Do you need water?” Ben asked stiffly.

Spidena managed to nod, but the movement evidently made her dizzy, and so she lowered herself down with a wince to sit on the ground.

Ben reached into his bag, drew out his waterskin, and made his way over to where the witch sat, and pressed it into her weak palm.

He watched as she drank. Breathed. Then drank some more.

By his estimation she had more or less drained the entire container.

Looking around at their surroundings, Ben noted a couple edible plants nearby, and possibly one edible varietal of mushroom that wouldn’t poison them.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

Spidena said nothing in response, which both made Ben glad and unnerved at the same time.

It took until nearly nightfall, but Ben had managed to gather not only an armload of edible plants, but a couple of squirrels as well thanks to Wolf who had apparently wanted to lend his hunting skills in order to help his witch.

Wordlessly, Ben laid his findings beside Spidena, then, squinting in the dim light, he located multiple fallen branches on the ground nearby, and dragged them to where Spidena sat. After that, he went to the rotted stump Wolf had sat upon earlier, and after a series of kicks, he had broken off a sizable chunk that would prove to be a lovely fire log.

It was dark when Ben started cooking their food, but by then, the fire had visibly warmed Spidena, Wolf had decided he’d done all he needed to and flown off, and even Ben was feeling a little more calm.

When the meat had crisped and smelled ready, Ben offered the rough skewer to Spidena.

Only he realized she had been watching him, and the way her eyes were transfixed, he got the sense that it had been that way for sometime.

Uneasiness swept over him.

Spidena took the food from Ben, but she didn’t start eating and instead continued staring at him.

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He pretended to ignore it, and proceeded to try and enjoy the meal, though he had to silently confess to himself that after tasting proper food at the inn, the roasted squirrel without any herbs or spices seemed an insult to the word ‘food’.

“I understand… That you had no choice to hunt down magic users. To a point,” Spidena announced quietly.

Ben tensed. “You mean I should’ve just refused orders and let myself be killed?”

“Yes.”

Anger flared in Ben’s chest, but he homed his gaze on the fire, and didn’t let it show on his face.

“Instead of ruining countless lives, why didn’t you choose to die?”

“You live my life and tell me why,” Ben’s voice rasped.

He continued to try and finish his meal in a cavalier manner, but the churning in his stomach made it so that even chewing felt wretched.

So he stood up to discard the remains of his squirrel skewer farther into the woods to deter any wildlife from coming to find them as they slept.

The chill away from the fire did help to soothe some of the sting of Spidena’s words, but not entirely.

Regardless, he made himself return to the fire, and started clearing a place for himself to lay down and sleep.

“The Hounds are why I lost my mother.”

Ben froze.

He had suspected early on in the day that there was a more personal history with his former branch of the military for Spidena. It had been one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to face her…

But upon hearing his suspicion confirmed?

It was the same feeling of being trapped in a nightmare that he knew he could never wake up from.

He stared at the sky above himself blankly, unable to move or respond as hot nausea flushed through him, then cooled which only made the awful guilt all the worse.

“You would’ve been a child when she was taken. Too young to be a fully fledged member of the Hounds… But she was taken because of them. And you probably did the same thing to someone else’s mother, or father, or loved one.”

Ben said nothing.

“I know… I know that the ones in charge of the army would’ve lied to you. They would’ve told you righteous, glorified reasons for you to follow their orders. They probably said you were protecting the kingdom. And you… At seven years old, scared and alone, that you would’ve had no choice but to believe it and you would’ve grown up with that belief and been surrounded by others who were exactly the same. But I… I don’t know how I can not hate you.” Spidena’s tone was matter of fact, but regardless of the coldness and lack of violent passion, Ben’s patience had worn through to the bone.

“Then hate me. I don’t give a rat’s ass. Bugger off on your own if you like,” he quipped tersely. But the waver in his voice betrayed the fact that she had succeeded in hurting him.

Unaffected, Spidena continued to prod his damaged soul. “When did you find out what you were really doing was leading the king’s army to innocent beings?”

Ben said nothing, and instead turned over to lay on his left side, putting his back to the fire, and the witch.

“Didn’t you… Didn’t you want to ask or stop-”

He sat back up abruptly. The anger and anxiety had marinated in him for too long, and when he turned his furious gaze to Spidena he watched her flinch away.

“You have lived a comfortable life, and have obviously been well taken care of. You lost your mother, and maybe your father. But you aren’t used to having to walk until you collapse, and you aren’t used to missing meals, or sleeping without a blanket. You aren’t used to living knowing that if a superior happened to be in a bad mood, they could kill you and no one would care. It’d be like they quashed a rotten apple and shlucked it into a bin. So shut up. My life isn’t your business. And if you start tossing judgment at me? I’ll bury you in it.”

Ben laid back down and pretended that the conversation was as forgettable as one of the gnats they’d swatted away during the day, but in truth, he knew he wouldn’t sleep at all that night as his old guilt was stirred like dust under the bristles of a fresh broom. It stirred up the sense that this time, thanks to the damning presence of magic and his favor to Spidena that glued her to his side, it might not settle.