I block the sword, then the dagger of this double wielder with shifty eyes and a catch in his elbow, and I smile. This. This is simple. The ebb and flow of battle. Win or die. Well… since this is a competition, I suppose I won’t be killed for losing — BUT! Accidents happen. Better to be safe than sorry.

My smile grows into a triumphant grin as I toss my competitor's sword aside, his other elbow locking at an inopportune time, and draw a streak of blood along his arm. I trip him, and unlike Hans, this man does not recover and ends up flat on his back. I step on his bastard's sword, holding my sword to his throat. He gulps, panicked brown eyes meeting my flat, icy gaze.

“Yield,” he says.

I smile and step back, letting the nurses come and tend the injury.

Then I escape the ring and the crowds gushing from the stands before I rub my palms against my temples. Throbbing headache. Ugh.

People clap me on the back and wave blue flags, happy to see the underwolf win. I attempt to smile, and most don't seem to notice my increasing panic as the people outside the little circular arena congratulate me with pats on the back and wide smiles. One little boy even asked for me to strike his sword for luck. The practice of striking blades... it began as a way for knights to test the best blades and is now how they wish each other luck. Fun.

So I took out a dagger and struck his wooden sword with the hilt instead of the blade. The grin on his face made putting up with the pain, and tightly packed crowd, worth it.

A sigh escapes my lips when I emerge from the majority of folk as they wonder off to find new victims to cheer for and bet on. Looking back on the rolling tents and knights shifting to and fro, getting ready for their next match or leaving a match.

It's overwhelming in the many moving parts and flowing colors. The people are like ants scurrying from one circular arena to the next. Each arena is marked off with ribbon and has rickety wooden stands on either side. Stands sell wares and food, lining the areas between arenas. The merchants yell and clamor for attention, shoving ware in front of faces. Some even have acrobats or daredevils juggling fire outside their stands to draw in attention and sell more stuff.

The knights... there are so many. And these are mostly only the ones who have been defeated in the main arena, sent to the flat just outside the arena for losers' competitions. Whoever loses here... they will have to wait until the archery competition to have another shot at being Prince Protector. I have to beat most of these men if I make it back for the champion match... and then, according to the chart just outside the main arena, I'll likely face Sir Xonier again.

I stumble when the bombardment from the masses seems to become my own. The emotions of multiple matches have caught up to me. I about peed my pants when I felt the fear and disappointment from that last brown eyed fellow I beat, but was able to shove it back.

It’s getting worse, Ran says softly as I clamber on her back. No judging, it's hard to jump on a pony without a saddle to help you up. Their back is all wiggly skin and tissue and muscle that gives. It's nothing like climbing something stationary where you can actually get a handhold.

Since the Spark invaded my life, my own powers to connect to those around me have gone haywire. Before, I didn't even know I could communicate with animals and people. Didn't know I could feel their emotions as if it were my own.

And now, I can't even direct it to those I want it to touch on. Sometimes, like today, it connects to everyone around me. Other times, I try to get a read on someone, and it doesn't work.

I wish I'd never heard the term Mindempath at all. I wish I'd never learned of my so-called Gift. It's more a curse.

It’s not all a curse. I can also feel your joy. And your love. We can speak, all because of your Gift. Leave it to my bond to find the silver lining.

I smile. “Thanks, beaut,” I whisper.

I internalize the pain, putting it in a box surrounded by concrete walls. It has the effect I need. It keeps Ran out. But it also keeps me in, and the emotions surrounding me bombard me from all sides. The anger as a man yells at a young kid for stealing an apple. The fear and rumbling of a kiss gut as his stomach tries to eat itself.

The disappointment from the competitors slouching around, packing their things to leave. The hopelessness of a horse with a bad master. The concern as a few spectators see me collapsed against Ran.

Anger. Hate. Fear. Love. Joy. Excitement. Sorrow. It all combines to create a catastrophe in my mind that my heart wasn’t meant to hold.

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Pain.

“Get us out of here. Please,” I whisper from where I’ve collapsed against Ran’s mane.

She spins and disappears into a back alley, away from curious and concerned and jealous and hate-filled people.

It’s only after we enter the forest and the peace of the fallen leaves crunching lightly beneath Ran’s hooves that the tension leaves my shoulders while the weight on my soul starts to dissipate.

I unclench the walls surrounding the pain and ease it back into Ran.

We both give a near silent sigh when the pain eases as the emotions of peace and joy and purpose emanate from the forest animals.

“This has to change, Ran. I can’t keep living like this.”

She stops and I hop down. The headache eases to a gentle ache compared to the earlier avalanche.

She pops back into her Timber Wolf form and I glare as it saps a bit more of my strength. "Didn't we agree it's safer for you to stay a horse?"

She nuzzles into my shirt, then gives a little lick to my cheek. I can't stay mad when she acts like this. I know, but I missed being a wolf. The Spark has an idea.

“What?” I ask warily. That’s when I realize the Spark has been suspiciously absent during everything, and that frightens me more than it should. A sense of unease at the thought of the plotting Spark enters my blood and makes my fingers tingle. Or mayhap that’s just adrenaline.

Here goes nothing, Ran whispers, and if I wasn’t scared before, I should definitely be scared now.

I take off running. Ran pounces before I get four steps, knocking me to the forest loam, and her hot breath on my neck makes my spine tingle.

“OFF! NO! Bad dog. I am not doing it.”

You don’t even know what it is, Ran replies in amused exasperation. Her voice is smug, even as she shifts her paws on my back so they don't dig into my skin

“Don’t have to. I say no!” I hiss right back.

It’s for your own good.

“No!"

And that’s when I hear charging in the underbrush and realize, like an idiot, I’ve been yelling. Out loud. To my Timber Wolf who is currently breathing down my neck.

“Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll save you!”

I almost laugh.

Then I hear the ringing of a sword, and Ran jumps back as the hiss of steel parts the air right where she was.

I feel the jumbled emotions of fear, exalted righteousness, and the self-congratulatory pat on the back of a man rescuing a damsel in distress.

I snort-laugh. The man steps over my prone and shaking form and gets between me and Ran.

“Are you alright, my lady?” That voice. I know that voice. But from where?

“I get that you’re trying to rescue me, but there is no need. I had her right where I wanted her,” I say as I get up and dust myself off.

Ran gives a snort that turns into a small growl as the man tries to lop her head off. Suuuree. Keep thinking that, two-legs. Now call your hound off before I chop his arm in two.

I watch in amusement as Ran climbs up a tree and sits five or six branches up as my “rescuer” waves his sword back and forth in the air.

When do you think he’ll realize he can’t reach me? she asks as her tail wisps back and forth. Her amber gaze follows the path of the sword like a cat stalking prey.

“Come down and fight like a man, Wolf!”

I burst out laughing as Ran chuffs loudly. My savior turns to me with a confused expression on his face. I quickly pull up my hood but can’t help the small gasping chuckles that run rampant. Even the confusion turning to simmering anger in the man can’t draw me away from my amusement.

Ran also draws amusement from the situation. Really, squidface? Squinty eyes don’t do you no justice in the ladies' department, if you know what I mean. Must be the reason you have to find a distressed victim—errr—woman. Love sees past all flaws and all that. She gives a large wolven grin as he tries to throw his sword at her. It lobs slowly into the air, actually hits the branch she’s sitting on (not that it could’ve hurt a fly at those speeds) then starts its plummet back to the ground.

I hear a squeak and look around for a mouse before I realize it came from the man. Poor thing.

Then I realize why he squeaked. Poor, poor man.

The sword quavers in the ground, inches from his boot. A few inches over and he would’ve lost his—errr—manhood. Or his life. Not sure which would be worse.

He takes one look at me in my hooded garb, one look at the smiling cat-like wolf in the trees, and one last look at the sword in the ground.

“Well, my lady, I believe my time here is done." He gasps out a ragged breath, his eyes flashing to meet mine for one moment and I would swear his eyes looked like molten silver for a moment. They crease at the corners, even as he edges away from the wolf, the tree, and his sword.

He abandons the sword. He sprints into the trees opposite the direction he came. I can hear crashes in the underbrush long after he disappears from sight.

I snicker as Ran scampers down, thick claws gouging out strips in the rich brown skin, leaving long marks of light against dark, reminding me of streaks of lightening against a deep sky.

Daydreaming? Ran asks as she pokes my forehead with a sheathed claw, knocking my head back. I rub the spot and glare. Perhaps about a specific young squid man?

I bark out a laugh. “Not on your life. Look, the swords still here!” I skip over to it, giving it a quick pull from the dirt. “Ooohh. Pretty. Must belong to a pretty noble. Think the guy stole it?”

Nope. He’s supposed to be the pretty noble.

We look at each other, “Poor man.”

She shakes her mane, cackling internally. Poor man indeed. Think he'll grow into a ladies' man?

“For his sake, I hope so.” I huff out a breath. "Do you think he'll tell?" It's scary... I didn't mean for anyone to see us. I told Wolfsbane the Timber Wolf had gone to the mountains for good reason, and then had a pact with Ran for her to stay a pony for the foreseeable future. You can see how well that's been going.

She licks a paw, then scratches behind her ear. He was humiliated. I wouldn't be spreading that tale, were it me.

I narrow my eyes in the direction the man went.

Want me to eat him?

"No. Not today."

I sigh, knowing the unlikelihood of the tale reaching the wrong ears is the best I can hope for. I can't handle chasing down the man and making sure he doesn't tell. Not right now. Even if I know I probably should. “Alright. Let’s go.”

I turn to leave. Ran pounces, her warm breath caressing my neck and her fur tickling my arms. My mind goes blank and I know no more.