---RYNE---

The villagers of Kent waited eagerly as the cooking pot boiled. We watched as the steam escaped from breaking bubbles. Some of the villagers brought out logs for the children and elderly to sit on. The babies that Agate mentioned sat on the laps of their mothers; two of them giggling enthusiastically at the sight of the flame, while one of them slept softly nestled on one arm.

Only the scouts remained dutiful at their posts; rigid and alert. Maybe they would take turns partaking in the festivities and patrolling. Maybe they would simply be handed food for later.

The hope I felt fluttered in my chest, and I knew Gaelmar was guiding me again. I closed my eyes and listened to the signs. When I opened them, I saw the communal fire pulse, scattering embers that stretched like a blanket covering those nearby. These around and beyond did not notice.

The vision was as clear as if Gaelmar himself spoke to me once more. Bless the food.

A pretty melody that came from wooden pipes pulled me out of the connection. I blinked and the fire gave no signs of being holy. The smell of the meat was mouthwatering now. Some of the villagers closed their eyes to it, noses turned up in the air, lips curving upward. The children squealed as those resting from the elder’s cottage earlier teased them. Burly and huge, they growled like animals and pretended to snatch their plump little legs.

Woodrow caught my eyes as I scanned for him. I patted the seat next to me. He smiled as he passed through the villagers like red silk.

“Gaelmar wants me to bless the food,” I said when he sat down.

Woodrow arched a brow. Like the standard prayer before meals or the extra spice of glowing Saint-like blessing?” When I chuckled in reply, he added, “Of course.”

As if on cue, Agate stood when the meal was ready. The crowd hushed their silent chatter. “We know to give thanks before each meal. But what coincidence to have foreign monks as present company!” She looked at me and nodded her head gently. “Brother Ryne, would you please do the honors?”

My heart leaped, though from being called to pray over the meal with many villagers staring at my unhooded face or from the chance that I would now use Gaelmar’s kindflame to help a village, I was not sure.

I stood, then paused, my feet unable to join Agate in her position near the bubbling cooking pot. Woodrow touched my arm, smiled, and pushed me so that I had no choice but to walk up to her. I gulped as I passed each stare.

When I was beside Agate and looking over the crowd, I tried to keep my composure. But my knees shook and my lower lip trembled. Suddenly, the crowd blurred and I felt myself wobbling. I felt the world tilting. I looked away as I tried to catch my breath. It felt like my tongue swelled and was blocking the inside of my mouth.

It was only when I caught Woodrow’s steady gaze that I recollected myself. There was no humor in his face, only channeling a determined look. He gave me a nod of confidence. I slowly breathed out and brought to my mind memories of his antics. The ease of his charm. The assuredness. The playful tone.

The swelling and squeezing sensation relaxed. I took in a full breath of that delicious stew and smiled my warmest at the crowd. They did not seem to notice that I was unraveling.

In a voice that I barely recognized as my own, I said, loudly and clearly, “I thank each and every one of you for welcoming me and my brother to your village. To Agate and Harlan, may you always be strong to watch over this village. Let us close our eyes and feel the warmth of the Saints.”

Eyelids closed and heads bowed, save for Woodrow and mine. I uttered a prayer for sustenance and strength, for vitality and defense. And when the villagers repeated after me, saying the name of the Saints, leaving Gaelmar for last, my hands glowed so brightly that I thought for sure the villagers would notice. But only Woodrow looked away, blinded by the light. I stretched my hands out, casting the kindflame’s light into the cooking pot.

Woodrow looked back at me just as the glow faded and the villagers’ eyes blinked open. I was not even tired. It was as if, I felt a little bit of my strength returning.

And I think I knew what it was: I think it was when the villagers uttered Gaelmar’s name when we prayed.

Harlan’s voice boomed from nearby, almost making me jump. “We feast! We feast on new traditions. And I offer my first toast to Agate. For finally having good sense!”

The village erupted into laughter as Agate jabbed Harlan’s ribs softly. But she too chuckled, her shoulders shaking. Later, she offered me a bowl of hot stew. The villagers formed two lines with their empty bowls and empty mugs. She had an odd look about her when she handed it to me.

“That’s strange. I did not notice your hair being pale blonde.” Her eyes scanned my face again. “And you seem to have color in your cheeks. Hm.” She shrugged and busied herself with handing out the meal to the villagers.

Harlan was beside her, doing the same, though his line was mostly made of fighters. I saw him tell one scout to keep bringing hot meals to the rest. I helped Agate with handing out the food. The food that I just blessed. It looked nothing, like an ordinary meal, just like back at the granges. But I just knew it carried a small portion of Gaelmar’s kindflame. Woodrow came up beside me, immediately scouring my face. He said nothing, only helped in handing out food and drink.

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“Brother Woodrow, care to entertain once more?” Agate called after a while.

Woodrow smiled. “Gladly.” He let the wooden bowl go and winked at the maiden he served last.

And there he went; a figure of red revelry. As the wood pipe player ate, Woodrow took charge of his instrument and played a high, rapid tune. The men stamped their feet and the children who were in the middle of eating played with their friends. They tugged each other and pushed each other around the fire. Mouth chortled and spat at the sight.

“It must be a delight to have him around,” Agate commented. Her eyes looked up at Woodrow between handing out bowls and drinks.

“Oh, he gets overbearing some nights,” I replied.

“By the way, Gaelmar isn’t usually the name we call. He was the Saint who disappeared suddenly from the sacred texts, right? We haven’t had a decent priest wandering around these parts for years, but I do remember him suddenly vanishing at some point. Maybe with him around, the Saints could have stopped the darkness for good.” I did not speak. I felt the warmth in me lessen. Agate went on. “Anyway, we pray to the mighty Saint Oswald. May he give us strength to fight off each adversary every day.”

So that was what people nowadays think of Gaelmar.

Or maybe it was only in this village, who knows? I touched my chest, feeling my heartbeat. Did I feel sad for him? I was not sure if Gaelmar heard that through me or if he was aware of it, but I tried to comfort him. I pressed the palm of my hand on top of my beating heart. Soon, they will know that you did not abandon your friends.

The celebration went on. When all the villagers had been served, Harlan and Agate took their seats in a flattened mound overseeing the merrymaking. The people were dancing, with Woodrow in the center of it all, his red hair the only flash amongst a sea of brown, black, and a few light-heads. I was glad for him. Finally, he can be himself again and let the worries of our journey be temporarily forgotten. I stayed near the new elders’ sides. They received well-wishers with smiles and grace. Harlan was more receptive, shaking their hands and letting his brow be kissed.

And then a howl, so loud, as if many wolves were crying in unison, shook our core. The sound was like a spear thrown in the center of an empty field. Danger.

Agate and Harlan froze, hands clasped in mid-congratulations. Harlan’s big hands had clasped the small wrinkled hands of an old man. The music stopped. The fire under the cooking pot hid its flames. The children stopped playing and quickly scampered behind their mothers and guardians. Woodrow and I locked eyes.

The sounds of the forest immediately followed suit. We heard the familiar sounds of brambles erupting from the ground, uncoiling and crackling and whipping. Sharp yelps and growls and barks responded.

The villagers huddled together; those who did not know how to fight. The scouts from ahead sounded the alarm, one after another. Some blocked their ears with their hands. Harlan and Agate jumped into action. So did the rest of the fighters.

Wooden bowls and mugs were left abandoned. They fell to the ground, spinning, and being stomped on as men, women, and children, either fled from the communal fire or ran to grab their sharp wooden weapons. Shouts replaced the chorus of songs, and the stampeding of boots replaced claps and cheers.

A thin man holding a horn and a wooden bow approached Agate. She called him Jerome. “Several lesser direwolves near the village border, elder,” he reported. “They are spilling from the mountains. They’re not as big as the great white one, but they are many. The forest is trying to hold them back, but some are nearing the village.”

“Why do they attack now? Blast!” Agate swore. Her face twisted fiercely. “Children, frail, and elderly, inside my house!” She called some names. “Guard them with your life until we send in reinforcements!”

The fighters were already forming a line inside the walls. Activity from the towers: one archer loosened his string. It hit its mark. There was a sharp yelp and then growls. Claws scratched at the wooden gates together with the sound of whipping brambles.

“Formation!” Harlan bellowed.

He was at the head of the line while Agate ran to grab her shields. She gave a round common shield to Harlan and an iron sword while she carried a sturdier shield reinforced with iron. I watched as the gates splintered, torn by sharp claws desperate to get in. Frantically, I looked back at the elder’s house and saw the guards stationed there pointing their sticks outward.

“Once one direwolf gets inside, then all of them will,” Agate said. “Let not one pass you by. Aim true.”

The fighters raised the spears and poles high, while the sounds of arrows continued to fly overhead. Some landed on their mark, and some missed, thudding the ground, we heard. To my horror, one of the direwolves leaped high enough to almost snatch in its maw an archer standing on the lower towers.

Woodrow and I stood together. My hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. Woodrow only had eyes for the splintered wall, ready to sprint if need be. Then the world fell silent. The walls held their ground. The prowls, growls, and barks ceased. The only sounds were distant vines and arrows missing their mark.

“Save your arrows!” Agate shouted to the men.

“What do you see?” Harlan called.

“They’re just sitting there. When we try to hit them, they dodge it quickly,” one of the archers said.

Harlan and Agate looked at each other, concerned. The fighters raised their poles high, hands shaking in anticipation.

Then an eerie howling began; a howling of many wolves from nearby and distant seized them all, making the fighters shake with fear. They dropped their weapons and blocked their ears. Some even screamed in agony. Even Harlan and Agate dropped their shields, their teeth grinding. More children begin to wail from the elder’s house. The guards stationed there fell to the ground. Only Woodrow and I were immune somehow. Perhaps all my brothers were. We looked at each other. Woodrow collected Harlan while I rushed towards Agate and helped her block out the sound. She looked at me for a moment, then closed her eyes as the howls got louder.

In the middle of this chaos, I heard him, soft as a whisper in a distant cave. Agents of Chaos, these creatures are. They are spreading doom. Rally the fighters, Ryne. Have faith.

I raised my voice to call for Woodrow. “Woodrow, I need your help. How do you do it? How do you charm people into following your commands? Gaelmar wants me to do sort of the same thing.”

"Don't do what I do," Woodrow said, eyes wide. He was cradling Harlan’s tall figure. “You encourage them. You highlight their best qualities and comfort them. Think of how you would do it. What makes you think would bring them together?”