"A bridge."

"Yes."

"With... A plaque."

Wolf winces, shrinking further behind Flare as though that would spare him my scrutiny. It will not, but the thought is appreciated.

"It seemed important at the time," Flare says, taking over for my poor, sweet brother. The kid has always been painfully shy. "But sitting here, I can see how that might not be the case."

Oh for the love of– the urge to sigh is powerful but I manage to resist it. Somehow. Personally, I don't see what could be so important about some dead noble woman's memorial, but if they do, well... It's not like anything interesting has happened since we moved. Why can't there be at least one annoyingly determined game hunter? And, wow, I must be losing it if I'm hoping to be hunted; but on the other hand, being shot at would be the highlight of my week.

I need to get a fucking hobby.

"Look." Flare perks up, by now familiar with my 'I'm probably going to regret letting you do this' voice. "If you see anything weird, let me know, but don't go off expecting this to lead to anything. It's weird, but that doesn't mean it's part of some conspiracy or anything."

Flare nods, seemingly happy to take my advice. Sam, on the other hand, makes a face. I look questioningly at him and, after a moment of thought, he shakes his head.

"Nah, I was jus' thinking about that family crest. Dragons and wolves seem like a weird combination."

I blink. "Probably because it is. I don't know the exact meaning behind it, of course, but considering what those animals symbolize it was likely meant to advertise the ideals of war and valour. You know, standard rich people shit."

"You're rich people!" Sam accuses.

"Technically speaking, I am neither rich nor poor as animals do not conform to any monetary system."

Sam scoffs. "That's what all rich people say. I thought your father was a Lord– ain't they rich?"

I shrug. "Not always."

"Right..."

Ouch, the doubt, the disrespect. I thought that Sam was my friend, but what use is friendship in the face of such baseless and harmful accusations? Sam is very mean, and we are no longer friends. I tell him as much, and he further proves his cruelty by rolling his eyes at my plight.

"You done?" Flare asks drily.

"Sorry, Devil, can I help you?" I innocently ask.

Flare opens his mouth to speak, but before the words can come an agonized howl rips through the air, coming from somewhere far away in the deep woods. We don't look at each other, we don't even speak, we simply take off running.

===

The scene we find is far from pleasant, and even with how desensitized I've become to gore and injury, the heat of nausea rises to the back of my throat. Thankfully it goes no further, although I can hear how Wolf is not so lucky.

"Darra!" Dean scrambles over to me, the picture of panic and fear, shrunk nearly to the ground with his tail between his legs. "I don't know what to do! Please– I can't– I don't know how! I can't help!"

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"What happened?" I ask roughly around the lump in my throat. I can hardly breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of blood splattered across rotten leaves and mud-stained fur. Keening whines and distressed panting seem to be all I can hear, but I force myself to focus on Dean. I need to know what to do.

Dean releases a high whine of distress and says nothing, useless.

I shoulder past him and cautiously approach the downed wolf, foreleg clenched between the metallic jaws of a hunter's trap. Blood leaks freely from the wound, but beneath it, I can see the yellows and pinks of bone and flesh. Alarra eyes me, the blacks of her eyes all but consuming the blue, wild and fearful. I worry that if I get too close she will lash out.

I take a step closer– too close, she seems to decide as her lips pull back, exposing her gums and her sharp white teeth, snarling and spitting and completely out of her mind with terror. She must be in incredible pain, unable to think past the purely animal instinct of trapped/hurt= attack.

It's like a blade directly to the heart, the pain of another's pain, of her pain. I swallow against the building howling and shaking myself. She needs help, crying for her will do nothing for either of them. I’m the Alpha, it's my job to direct and protect.

I’ve failed at the latter, nothing left to do but make up for it.

"Dean, do you know how to dismantle a trap like this?"

"Yes, but I can't get close enough!"

Shooting him a tense look, I try to hold back a growl. It will only irritate Alarra and make teamwork harder. "If that weren't an issue, would you need help?"

"Well, If it weren't an issue I wouldn't need to–!"

A sharp bark cuts him off. "Yes or no, Grey?"

"No."

I nod, satisfied. "Good, Wulfric, Flare, get over here. On the count of three, we pin her down. Dean, you get the trap off. Flare, take her flank, Wolf, her middle, I'll get her head."

He doesn't have the wherewithal to be satisfied with how quickly they get into position around him, distracted by the issue at hand. Alarra snarls again, looking ready to lash out at a moment's notice.

"What about me?" Sam asks incredulously.

"Stand there and be quiet!" I snap. I'll feel guilty for that later but for now, I'm not exactly thinking rationally.

I eye Alarra with distrust. The second we give her any incentive, she'll lash out. I don't know how far gone she is but if she can still count then that might give her too much of a heads up... "On second thought, just move when I do."

After the others nod, he doesn't let it linger. He races forwards, ignoring snapping jaws and cutting teeth and wrestling Alarra's head to the ground.

"For the record, I'm really sorry about this," I murmur to Alarra as Dean painstakingly tugs at pins and latches with his teeth. Alarra for her part, fights to free herself, even more stressed now that she's defenceless. If she keeps up her thrashing, she's going to end up doing even more damage to her already fucked up leg. "Any day now, Daen."

"Working on it," Dean says around a pin, pulling it out before carelessly tossing it to the side. He grabs another one and tugs at it. "This is the last one. Hold her steady, she's not going to like this bit."

Dean's words hold true, as he pushes the jaws downwards Alarra yelps and begins thrashing anew, forcing them to put even more weight into their restraint.

The jaws fall open with a hollow metallic clang. Alarra slumps, energy seeped from her.

"Okay– okay–" Dean laps the blood from his nose and shudders. "Darra, Grab her by the scruff and pull her out."

Teeth sink into white fur, I tug and her body follows like a puppet on a string.

It's a long way back to camp. I'll drag her all the way there if necessary.

"Wait, Darra. Drop it."

I do, reluctantly, release Alarra from my hold, curious as to what Flare has in mind.

Flare burry's his head between her hind legs. Before I can ask him 'hey what the fuck, bud?' his head pops up from under her, pinned to the ground by her weight. "Someone get her front legs?"

I do, following his movements. Together, we manage to get her spread across our backs and, with the help of Wolf and Dean, into a relatively comfortable position.

We walk shoulder-to-hip, Dean and Wolf as spotters to make sure Alarra doesn't slip.

"Sorry for snapping at you," I murmur to Sam, who leads the charge.

Unexpectedly, Sam laughs. "Ah, don't worry about that. I get it. My feelings hardly take priority over your missus."

"I'm not–" Flare gives him a look. Oh. Oh. "Alarra's just a friend."

"Says you." Sam scoffs. And, honestly, what the fuck is *that* supposed to mean?

A whimper reminds him that he has better things to worry about. Like figuring out how the fuck to treat a bone-deep wound with no resources, knowledge of healing, or thumbs.

Should be fun.