The Wolf in Chains

by Ppickles4

Summary:

Rangers apprentice, except Rangers are vampires, Knights are Werewolves, couriers are sorcerers, cooks are halflings, royals are dragons, Skandians are direwolves, tug has fangs… and Will is a human.

Chapter 1: Origins of Jongler Will

Will and Evenlyn stood stiffly at the mast, their arms bound above their heads.

For Will the silence had gone on long enough, he was tired of listening to the skandians talk about women and alcohol. Or in more specific cases, the captain talk about sailing or Tharkell talk about money. He was tired of the smell of salt and the ache of his arms pulled above his head. The weight of the shackles pressing down on him. He couldn’t do much about most of these problems, but he sure as hell could talk.

“So Evenlyn! Have you ever heard that joke about construction?” Will grinned.

Evenlyn stared at him. “What?”

“I’m still working on it.”

…

There was silence. A seagull squawked. Even the skandians had fallen quiet, staring at him. Evenlyn looked like she'd found the meaning of pain in bad jokes.

…

There was a short bark of laughter, one of the stupider crewmates, began slapping his knee and guffawing. “Wait I get it, construction, working on it. HAH!”

Getting into the groove, Will decided to channel his inner Gilan, in other words, theatrics. “Why did the knight always carry a pencil?”

Groaning, Evenlyn muttered, “please no.“

“In case he needed to draw his sword!” delivered Will, with a wink.

The stupid skandian wheezed, “Draw his-“ he couldn’t finish from laughter.

One of his buddies nudged him, “It’s not that funny.”

But a couple more started to chuckle. Less because the joke was funny, and more because the stupid crewman’s reaction was funny.

Will squirmed in his chains, “The castle tailor quit.”

The stupid skandian, which Will was starting to call in his head Jerry, leaned forward eagerly.

“They said it was a Seam-stressful job.”

That earned a couple snorts and eyerolls from the other crewmembers, Evenlyn groaned in pain. Jerry? Jerry was having the time of his life, his laughter bounced across the water like a skipping stone, he was laughing so hard that he had to hold onto one of his buddies. Said buddy did not appreciate that and stepped away, causing Jerry to fall flat on his face. There he stayed pounding his fist against the deck, tears streamed down his face from laughter.

Squirming a bit more, Will managed to get one hand to slip through the manacles, “Why don’t nobles play hide and seek?”

Jerry whimpered, “Stop. I can’t-“

“Good luck hiding that ego.”

That got several laughs, Jerry was gone, dead. Clutching his side and gasping in pain. He couldn’t move, his laughter was too strong. “Please, I’m dying.”

There! Will slipped his other hand free, and casually strode up to Jerry. All the skandians froze in shock. Will offered a hand to Jerry, he took it with a silly grin on his red face. “Please tell me you have more.”

Will beamed, “More?” He dramatically leapt onto the railing of the ship and did a little twirl, “My good sir you have come to the right place.”

There were murmurs of appreciation at Wills dexterity and balance.

“You know I dated a skandian once.” The crew watched, entranced, as Will bounded over to a warrior, “It was going great until I-“ he pulled out the axe from the skandians belt, “Axed about her weight.”

Laughter sprung up around the ship, the skandians barely noticed Will still had the axe.

“The bard and the jailer started arguing over keys.” Will flourished one hand dramatically while the other slipped keys from the captains belt.

“The bard meant music, he soon got jail time.”

The whole crew was watching, chortling and chuckling.

Will leapt onto the helm, “I mean think about it,” he flipped to the deck. “If tomato is technically a fruit.” He subtly passed the keys to Evenlyn, “Then what’s a smoothie?” Winking at one of the skandians, “I wouldn’t count your mothers sauce.”

The skandian was slapped on the back, he didn’t seem to notice, covering his mouth to hide his laughter.

Will spread his hands out wide, palms up, “If a skandian ship is a wolf ship, then what’s an Araluen ship?”

The skandians snickered, “A waste of time!”

“A piece of crap!”

Will shrugged, “Who can tell? It’s at the bottom of the sea!”

No one was paying attention to Evenlyn, all eyes were on Will. Everyone was laughing.

“Give us one about King Duncan!” A skandian shouted.

Insulting the king would technically be treason, Will hesitated then shrugged, they’d said about king Duncan, not insulting him, “What’s the difference between a dragon and noblewoman?”

Eagerly the skandians leaned forward, no one noticed Evenlyn sneak up behind the captain.

Doing a handstand, Will chirped, “One eats men, hoards gold and breathes fire. The other is a dragon.”

Direwolves all around the ship had collapsed from laughter.

Yawning, Will said, “Gosh I’m tired! I don’t think I can keep this up.” He hid a grin as the skandians protested, “Oh very well, one more.” All the skandians leaned in eagerly, “Where did all your weapons go?”

Frowning in confusion the skandians looked around and checked their belts, everyone’s weapons were gone, one of the direwolves shouted, “Look!”

All heads turned towards Evenlyn who held everyone’s weapons, “Hey Will! I think they want a punchline.”

She dropped all of their weapons over the side of the ship.

Everyone stared in horror, stunned. They only broke out of their shock at a gack sound from the captain. Will had the axe blade to his throat, “One last joke for the night,” his voice was cold.

The captain glared, his face twisted in fury.

“What’s sharp, swings fast, and doesn't care that you’re a captain. Answer carefully now.”

They stood there for a while, the whole crew holding their breath, finally he spat out. “Name your terms,”

“Good answer, take us back home. Now.”

Notes:

This doesn't last but it was fun to write. I want to keep up the trend of Will being a force to be reckoned with despite being human.

Chapter 2: Fight! Fight! Fight!

Staring down King Duncan with black eyes that reaped souls, Halt growled, “You are saying that I may not go after Will because I am needed here for post war cleanup.”

Fiery eyes blazing Duncan stared back unflinching, his golden hair shone in the lantern light. “Precisely.”

Raising an eyebrow, Halt nodded, “Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned and walked towards the door.

Frowning, Duncan called out, “What do you mean? I don’t have any meeting with you tomorrow.”

Halt said nothing.

Looking down at his schedule, Duncan felt puzzled, tomorrow was a celebratory day, he’d specifically asked for his schedule to be cleared so he could go hunting in the woods. It was a hobby of his that he only ever reserved for special days.

 

The next day.

Deep in the forest, Duncan rode his horse through the well beaten path. He was still puzzling over Halt's supposed meeting with him today, Halt was no fool, and he never gave up. So what did he mean-

“Your majesty.”

Duncan pulled back on the reins, his horse slowed then stopped, huffing with unease. There on the path stood Halt, he had no weapons, and wasn’t wearing his usual ranger garb, simply a tunic and trousers in muted greys. His black eyes glinted with danger.

”What are you doing out here?” Despite being an elderly dragon, with battle hardened scales, and claws larger than a small boat, Duncan felt a trace of fear trickle down his spine. He wasn’t used to that sensation and didn't like it.

“The beast that Morgorath captured, was it ever found?” Halt's voice was calm and smooth like a blade between the ribs.

Frowning, Duncan replied, “No.” He got off his horse and spoke the command for it to go home. “Are you saying you’ve found it? We can hunt it now.”

Sighing, Halts eyes went to the heavens like Duncan had said something stupid, “For the record, I would never try to kill you.”

“What?!” Backing up, Duncan reached for his sword.

“Simply injure.”

“You don’t want to do this Halt,” Duncan cast aside his cloak, “You won’t win.”

“I don’t intend on winning, like I said, I’d never kill you. I simply want to find my son.”

“Don’t you think I want that too?! If Gilan and Horace are right, then that’s my daughter with him! Please be reasonable. We need to keep Araluen stable so they have a home to come back to.”

It almost seemed like Duncan’s words had gotten through to Halt, then he gasped, his head was thrown back and an unearthly howl ripped from his throat. Spine arching, the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones was highlighted by the sight of black fur and claws growing from the monstrosity.

Duncan backed up instinctively, tilting his head back he stared into the eyes of the beast. It growled, a loud rumbling sound, its fangs longer than a person, and eyes filled with black rage. The king bowed his head and sighed, “I’m sorry, Halt.”

 

Pauline hummed a simple tune as she stood on the balcony of castle Araluen. Duncan had called her there to strategize controlling the post war chaos. He was out hunting now, but- her thoughts cut off at a roar. Pauline gasped and clutched the balcony railing as the whole castle shook. Off in the distance she saw it, a massive gold dragon. Its growl rolled through the sky like distant thunder. What sort of threat would cause Duncan to take his full dragon form?! But then she saw it, tiny compared to the gold dragon beside it, but still massive in its own right. A black wolf.

 

Duncan tackled Halt who simply rolled with the force, using the momentum to flip Duncan over him. The king didn’t want to hurt the ranger, he kept his claws sheathed and simply took the blows. Duncan slammed his tail into Halt's body, throwing him back, Halt rolled to his paws and charged. His jaws latched around Duncan’s leg, biting with all his might, the dragon roared in pain. The wolf backed away and prowled around the injured dragon, his fangs dripped with gore. Despite his scars across his body and fur matter with blood, he kept going, he was a father separated from his cub. Nothing would stop him. Duncan lay still on the ground, but some semblance of anger sparked inside of him. Halt was being so selfish! Didn’t he know that Duncan would give most anything to fly to Skandia and retrieve their children! It had been months since he’d seen his daughter's face, heard her laugh, or brushed her hair. Duncan was holding back from saving her for the good of the people. Halt insisted that Duncan was the monster?! With a roar, Duncan leapt to his feet and charged, this time he held nothing back. Claws and teeth met with a clash, blood splattered the ground. Howls of pain, and roars of anger rolled across the valley. Two behemoths crashed through the trees, destroying huge swaths of forest. Halt managed to land a blow across Duncan’s eye, nearly ripping it out of its socket. The king fell back clutching his face, bellowing in agony. The wolf snarled in triumph, but Duncan wasn't done. The temperature spiked, Duncan breathed in deeply. Halt didn’t have time to dodge. A huge blast of fire scorched the wolf's fur. When the smoke and fire cleared, it was revealed that the fire had left the wolf mostly untouched. However Halt didn’t move save for a twitch of his claws, then he was still.

 

Halt awoke in a cell. Silver chains clasped around his wrists, he snorted. Lycanthropes, unlike werewolves, could easily break through silver. But Halt didn’t try to break through. He simply waited. There was a clattering of metal, a creak of a door, and footsteps on stone. The torchlight made shadows dance on the dungeon walls. The rattle of a key in the lock was followed by the door to his cell opening. Duncan walked in, his expression was one of exhaustion, “I can’t hold a trial for you without revealing your secret.”

Halt shrugged, “I don’t see why keeping the secret matters anymore, I am no longer a ranger.”

“You’re still a ranger, Halt” Exasperated, Duncan sat down on the bench next to the grizzled vampire.

“I committed treason.” Narrowing his eyes, Halt growled, “What do you think the point of attacking you was?”

Duncan huffed, “As long as no one tells the public that that was you, then I am not required to strip you of your rank. No one knows you committed treason.”

“Good luck keeping me quiet.” Folding his arms, Halt glared at Duncan, “Just let me go after Will. If you let me out of this cell then I’ll let everyone know about my treason. There’s no point in leaving me in this cell, if the only reason you are keeping my treason secret is so I can stay and help. I can’t help from this cell.”

Hesitating, Duncan glared at Halt. “But if the public knows about your treason then I have to either banish you or kill you.”

“Admit it, I’ve got you caught. The only way you get anything out of this is if you send me after Will. You can banish me or say you are sending me to find your daughter.”

Duncan scowled, “I could have you killed.”

“Okay, I’d rather die than stay here. If Will is out there then as long as I’m breathing I’m going to search for him.” Tilting his head, Halt added, “Besides, you don’t get anything out of killing me. But with sending me away you get someone searching for your daughter.”

He was caught, Halt knew it, Duncan knew it. He put his head in his hands. “Don’t stop searching till you’ve found them.” This was the Duncan Halt knew. Yes he was a king, but he was still a dad. In that they understood each other. Lifting his head to give Halt a stern look, Duncan said “And bring them home.”

Chapter 3: Arrival in Skandia

It hadn’t been Will's best plan, but it was the only one he had. Keeping the captain hostage while negotiating their return, on the skandians own ship, for that long. It was bound to fail eventually. Will and Evenlyn took turns keeping the axe at the throat of the skandian captain, so the other could sleep. But it wasn’t long before Will's attention faltered, for just a moment. He froze in horror as the axe was ripped from his hand and the blunt end came swinging at his head. And everything went black.

 

Will awoke to the clanking of chains, his head pounding like someone had taken an axe to it… wait a second. When he tried to move, he found his limbs tied down. He opened his eyes and groaned, his back pressed against the mast, both his legs and arms lashed tight behind him around the mast. He tested his bonds, no getting out of these unless he gets really lucky. They were sailors after all, good with knots. He blinked away the sleep dust in his eyes and peered around the ship. It bustled with movement, Evenlyn was tied to the mast as well, but instead of being bodily lashed to the mast, she stood off to the side with her wrists secured to the ropes holding Will. “What’s happening? Are we almost there?” Will's throat was dry and raspy.

A sailor nearby let out a short bark of laughter, “Not nearly,” he pointed off into the distance.

Will looked and what he saw made his stomach churn in fear, dark grey clouds drawing ever closer, occasionally lightning would split through the darkness. Will had heard about storms at sea. Waves as tall as mountains plunging into troughs as deep as hell. He shivered, “Are you crazy?! We’ll never survive!”

A hatchet split the wood next to Will's head, he flinched and looked up into the eyes of the captain, “I intend on keeping you alive for as long as possible.” The captain growled, “So we can draw out the screams.”

“I’m not scared of some drowned rat that thinks he’s a wolf.” Spat Will, “Go threaten someone who gives a shit.”

Will's head snapped to the side as the captain backhanded him across the cheek. “You’ll learn to fear me soon enough.”

“How could we fear someone who got their ship commandeered by some teens making bad jokes,” snarled Evenlyn, “You’re pathetic, you think beating up on the weak makes you strong. But if you gave either of us a weapon and fought us one on one, the world would see how weak you are.” Her eyes shone with fire, “Not that you’d ever try, you know you’d lose.”

Eyes alight with rage, the captain growled at the sailor beside him, “Gag her. We’ll teach them a lesson after the storm has passed.”

 

Will always thought that hell would be fire and lava. Maybe a demon or two. But when the storm hit he soon realized the truth. Hell? Hell was a storm. A raging storm. Dread curled in his stomachs as the first few droplets hit his face. The waves grew in size, reaching towards the sky, as the clouds rolled over the ship, shutting them in like a tomb.

Rain and sea spray soaked the deck and its occupants in equal measure. Will shivered as the water, cold as ice, soaked into his clothes. “I miss Eraks vest.” Muttered Will, but his voice was ripped away in the howling of the wind. Huge waves loomed in the distance, like great beasts yearning to swallow them up. The captain roared orders over the storm's racket, urging the crew to guide the ship safely. But as they crested that first mountain of water, everyone on the ship held on for dear life, as they plunged into the abyss.

Will didn’t even realize he’d been screaming, his gut had been left behind and he was sure that death was imminent. Rain lashed against their faces as their descent slowed, and once again the crew worked to bring the ship towards the next challenge in their path. This cycle repeated, Will had never prayed before. But now he pleaded to whatever god was out there. Let him drown, let a rock hit him, or let the storm pass, either way, let the suffering end. After what felt like an eternity, Will prayers were answered.

It started slowly at first, the wind went from a howling gale to an insistent tug. In turn the waves shrunk from mountains to hills. Will hung limply in his bindings, his throat raw from screaming. Evenlyn was huddled against the mast, eyes wide in horror. The crew started laughing and chatting again. Clapping each other on the back and making jokes about how much the other had screamed. This was a regular occurrence for skandians, but for the two prisoners, they’d just seen their entire world tossed about like a leaf on the wind. Will shivered, convinced that he’d never felt cold this bad in his life, and the moment the first few rays of sunshine pierced through the clouds, he nearly sobbed from relief.

But of course, the horrors were just beginning.

 

(Authors note: I skipped Skorghijl, because reasons.)

 

Will and Evenlyn were marched off of the Skandian ship onto the docks. Both wobbled shakily, unused to the solid ground beneath their feet. Will barely had a moment to look around, despite it being late spring, there was still snow on the ground. He had naught but the tattered tunic and trousers to cover his slight form. Evenlyn wasn't much better, her dress was falling to pieces, but she didn’t shiver half as much. Will guessed that she had a much higher body temperature and could withstand a lot more cold because she was a dragon.

As they were led through the streets like spoils of war. Will flinched at seeing the sailors' families greet their loved ones. He would not cry. But the image of Halt's face kept swimming through his brain. He let himself imagine, if only for a moment. Being hugged again, and smelling the coffee and pine. The rhythm of Tugs hooves as he rides through the forest. Getting an answer right, making Halts black eyes shimmer with approval. The harsh tug on the rope around his wrists, made him stumble out of the fantasy. The cold reality of being stuck in this icy land, was almost too much to bear. But something small kept him marching. Kept him pushing forward. Halts voice, “I’ll find you Will! I’ll come for you!“

He couldn’t give up now. That was the last thing Halt wanted. So he stayed silent, pushed away the pain, and kept moving.

Chapter 4: The drought of coffee beans

Notes:

When Halt is in wolf form he is pure wolf instinct.

Mounting Abelard, Halt began the journey. The forest was peaceful, bird song was the only sound. Keeping his breathing steady, Halt planned out the way forward in his head.

His thoughts were interrupted by Abelard neighing softly. Someone was nearby. Halt patted his neck in the guise of calming him, but as he straightened his hands slipped this throwing knife out of his belt. He kept his body relaxed, but under the surface he was tense. Keeping his hood over his face his eyes darted to the left, there in the trees. Wait. Is that-?

“Horace, come out here.”

Horace rode his flightless Pegasus, Kicker, out onto the road, blushing in embarrassment. “Hey Halt.” He mumbled, looking down, ashamed.

“Why are you here, we’re not far from the border.” Though his voice was sharp, Halt began to relax with the young boy around. Controlling the beast had always been easier around Will, this was like that, but different.

“You’re looking for Will, right?” Face brightening with hope, Horace said eagerly, “Can I come?”

Halt rubbed his temples, “No, go back.”

“But-“

“This is something I need to do alone, Horace.” Halt stared him down. “Go back.”

Scrunching up his face in thought, Horace’s eyes lit up and a smug smirk settled on his face. “Okay.”

Halt frowned, he hadn’t expected that to work. But as Halt turned Abelard toward the border, Kicker fell into step beside them. Pulling Abelard to a stop, Halt turned to face Horace, “What are you doing?”

Blinking innocently, Horace smiled, “Riding Kicker.”

“Why are you riding this way?” Annoyed, Halt gestured at the road.

“Because I want to.”

Halt closed his eyes and put his face in his hands, “Horace…”

“Halt.”

Glaring, Halt raised his head to look at Horace, “You are a knight, you’ve got friends and a life back in Araluen.”

“Yeah,” Horace tilted his head, “You’re a ranger, you’ve also got friends and life back in Araluen.” With a smirk he added, “I don’t see why we are still on this subject.”

Scowling, Halt grumbled, “Go back.”

“Nice try.” Horace grinned, “Lead the way forward.”

…

“Why are you like this?”

At this Horace grew serious, “Will is my friend. Or if we are being truthful? My brother. I’m going to help save him. End of discussion.”

Halt’s eye twitched. The last person who’d tried the ‘end of discussion’ tactic with Halt, had ended up defenestrated from three stories up, into a pigsty. Said person had also been a foreign king. Sufficed to say Halt hadn’t been sent on diplomatic missions since. Halt took a deep breath through his nose, how was he going to convince this adult child to go back, threats? No. Bribes? Unlikely. Operation chicken in the…? “Fine!” Halt grumbled. “But you’re on chores duty tonight.” Abelard started down the road again.

“I thought that was a given.” Horace urged Kicker to catch up, “That took a lot less convincing than I expected.”

“Well there aren’t any pigsty or chicken coops around here so I was running out of options.” Admitted Halt dryly.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Glancing at the young knight, Halt asked, “Did you bring coffee beans?”

“I thought you did,” Horace stared at him.

“Of course I brought coffee beans,” Halt rolled his eyes, “Who do you think you’re talking to? I didn’t forget them.”

“… You forgot the coffee beans?!” Sounding panicked, Horace added thoughtfully, “That’s actually very unlike you. Are you okay? Do you need help?!”

“I’m fine,”

“No seriously Halt, I know you’ve got this whole broody ‘don’t tell anyone about my feelings vibe’ but you forgot the coffee beans! Is something wrong?! Are you sick?! Do you want to talk about feelings?! I make a great therapist.” Horace’s words tumbled out quickly.

Staring at Horace, Halt scowled, “What are you babbling about?! I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Horace squinted his eyes suspiciously.

“YES.”

“Hmph,” Looking very Skeptical, Horace relented, “Fine, but I’m watching you.”

Rolling his eyes, Halt said dryly, “Maybe you should watch where you're riding your horse.”

Horace yelped and tugged the reins to lead Kicker away from the low hanging branch. He hurried to catch up with Halt, then leaned back a bit, raising his hand to the sky like he was unrolling a scroll, “And so the tale begins, the brave knight Horace and his grumpy sidekick-“

“I’m taking away your Gilan privileges, he’s had too much of an effect on you.”

 

Setting up camp in the forest, the two travelers sorely regretted their lack of coffee beans.

Mournfully, Horace stared at the fire, “Without coffee beans what’s the point of a fire?”

Halt grunted without looking up, “Arson.”

…

Horace tried to change the subject, having deeply regretted asking “Anyways, how far away is the next town… where we can… ya know… buy coffee beans.”

“About ten kilometers.” Without looking up, Halt continued to whittle the piece of wood in front of him.

“While we were on the road you said it was only 3 kilometers.” Horace frowned.

“You asked where we could buy coffee beans, not the next town.” Halt didn’t look up from his piece of wood.

”Why can’t we buy coffee beans in the next town?” Asked Horace, innocently.

Halt barely glanced at him, “The townguards have a long memory.”

 

Later that night, Halt awoke, a muffled sniffle caught his attention. Slipping silently out of his tent, Halt saw Horace staring into the dying embers of the fire. His face was red, his eyes puffy, and dried tear tracks ran down his face. He didn’t notice Halt. Halt saw what he had in his hands, and stiffened. A recurve bow, camouflage cloak, and bronze Oakleaf necklace.

Horace wiped his eyes furiously, “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Halt wanted to go to him, but what would he say? Don’t cry? Terrible advice. We’ll find him? Optimism with no proof. Despite his socially awkward brain cringing at the thought, Halt slowly moved to sit beside Horace. He said one word, “Talk.”

“Wh-when Will and Gil and I were traveling across Celtica. I got into a fight with Will. I kept urging him to become a vampire, or a werewolf or something less vulnerable than a human.” Horace sniffled.

Staying silent, Halt stared at the cloak in Horace’s hands, it had a brown hair on it.

Rubbing his eyes, Horace continued, “He got really mad, saying it was his choice to stay human. That he wasn’t weak. That he would survive the war as a human or not at all.”

The starlight glinted on the bronze Oakleaf.

“I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault he got captured. If I had pushed the matter. Maybe he would have left in anger and then he wouldn’t have gotten captured. Or if I hadn’t brought it up in the first place he wouldn’t be so eager to prove himself, or-“

“Horace,” Halt's voice was firm.

Teary eyed, Horace looked up at Halt, “Yeah?”

“Stop holding it down.” Halt’s gaze was steady.

“W-what?”

“You’re werewolf blood, you should have transformed by now with this much emotion. Let it out.”

Horace wiped his nose on his sleeve, “Take your own advice.”

“… I will. Let the wolf out, Horace.”

Horace hiccuped, then hiccuped again, then howled. Dropping Will's items, Horace turned his face to the moon. Fur sprouted, and claws extended.

There was a tearing sound, Halt felt pain rip through his body, as he let go.

Halts mind grew foggy, there was only one thing that mattered. His pack. In front of him was a cub. Protect.

 

The next morning Halt raised his head from the mud, “Horace?” The young knight was snoring a few feet away in the grass. Halt got to his feet and stomped over to Horace “Wake up.”

Blissfully unaware, Horace slept on. That was, until Halts' boot connected with his ribs. “Huh, wuh?”

“We left the camp unguarded.”

Soon they were tromping back into camp. Abelard shook his mane as Halt appeared, covered in mud.

Did you two have fun?

“Shut up.” Grumbled Halt.

 

Horace rubbed his head, as they rode into town, “What happened last night?”

Halt scowled, “Nothing noteworthy,”

Just then they overheard a yell, a teenage boy rushed up to his buddies, he was covered in mud and twigs stuck out of his hair. “Guys! Guess what! I saw a werewolf! In the forest! A huuuuuge werewolf! Black as night! And guess what! It was curled around a normal sized brown werewolf! It must’ve been his cub! The normal werewolf was fast asleep, while the black werewolf was licking the smaller one's fur. Like a dad wolf with his pup! I snuck away! And survived!”

Halt and Horace’s faces were matching pictures of horror. “What did you do?!” Hissed Horace, glaring at Halt.

“I can’t control the wolf!” Halt closed his eyes from embarrassment. “They don’t know it was us, we never speak of this.”

“You licked me?!?!” Shivering, Horace rubbed his arms like he could rid himself of the thought.

“Wolves do that in the wild! I didn’t want to!” Halt snapped.

 

As they rode further into town, Horace shuddered in disgust, trying not to think about what apparently occurred last night.

Dismounting their equines, Halt went inside a tavern to see if he could barter for some coffee beans. While Horace stood nearby outside with the equines. A kid bumped into him rushing past, about ten, a bright smile on his face. It quickly turned to fear as he realized what he’d done. “Sorry mister!”

“That's alright! Go play.” The boy brightened and ran off. Horace didn’t think much of it, until the boy's mother came striding up, spatula in hand.

“Are you from Araluen, knight?”

Frowning, Horace was confused at why she said Araluen and Knight with such disgust. “Uh, yeah.”

The mothers eyes flashed with rage, Horace barely had time to react before he was slapped across the face with the spatula, “Stay away from my children, filthy dog!”

“What was that for?!” Rubbing his face, Horace grumbled.

“I see you’re making friends.” Halt's voice was cool.

“She just asked me if I was from Araluen, then slapped me!” Confused, Horace turned to mount Kicker.

Mounting Abelard, Halt sighed, “Remember, most countries don’t like magical creatures. Araluen is the only one where they are accepted. She probably deduced that since you were a knight from Araluen you were a werewolf.”

“Ugh, right, did you at least get coffee beans?”

Halt scowled, “I didn’t realize that rangers being vampires was common knowledge in Gallica. Coffee beans? No. But I did get dirty dish water thrown in my direction.”

Sighing, Horace urged Kicker forward, “I don’t know how we’re going to survive!”

Chapter 5: How much angst is too much angst?

At first Will was subtle. Sent to work in the yard as a slave was probably the worst luck possible. But he knew he needed to start small.

While carrying crates he “tripped” and dropped a large heavy container on the slave masters foot. That earned him a beating but watching the prick limp around the rest of the day was worth it.

The next morning he got let into the kitchens. Grabbing as many spicy ingredients he could without getting caught. He wasn't sure what he was going to use them for, but it was just in case.

Will's favorite was easily the time that Will overheard a guard mutter something interesting.

“The slave master woke up screaming, there was a huge rat chasing him. The stupid man wouldn’t stop squealing till it was dead.”

Well that makes things fun, he thought to himself. That night the screaming went on for hours as five rats, the biggest Will could find, were found in the slave masters bed. Will grinned to himself, despite the cold, and the sting from earlier lashes, the screams made it a bit easier to sleep.

While carrying a crate, scars already stinging across his back, Will overheard one of the guard's comrades telling the slave master which guard had revealed his fear of rats. Very soon that guard and the slave master had a heated discussion.

Sidling up to the guard, Will muttered, “He doesn’t seem to appreciate the hard work you do, huh?”

The guard scoffed,”Of course not, I’m just a means to an end to him. I might as well be another slave!”

“What do you say we show him who's boss?” Grinned Will.

Not even hesitating to agree, the guard soon supplied Will with the items he needed for his next plan. Three days later? There was a different slave master, the previous one had quit after his bed was filled with fish guts, his drawers filled with rats, and his clothes went missing while he was showering. Will finally tired of pranking him, and decided to orchestrate him leaving. A box of supplies that Will knew was going to one of the slave masters superiors, he rigged with glitter. Soon the slave master fled fearing that he would be blamed.

One day he actually did trip, right into another slave. He was big, and not too pleased about being crashed into. The first blow caught Will across the jaw, he saw stars, but rolled out of the way of the second swinging fist. Using the time it bought him he darted behind the bully and kicked him in the back of the legs, causing him to fall on his hand and knees. Before the bully could get up, Will grabbed the heaviest thing he could find, a rock. And slammed it into the slaves head.

The slave was fine. After he woke up. Will was not fine. The guards pulled him away from the bully, and stripped off what little he had in terms of a tunic. The beating that followed was harsh and brutal. Scars across his back crossing over each other, bloody new ones and old stiff ones. Will did his best not to scream. His resolve crumpled after the first twenty lashes.

The next day the bully ran to a corner and puked. Tears streamed down his face and his nose ran. Will snorted, he had barely put a single mashed ghost pepper in the man’s food. Pathetic.

But throughout all of this? Will did what he did best. He talked. Even when he wasn’t allowed to. Sure, he got beaten nearly to death more than once. Falling into sweet unconsciousness after each time. But he knew it would be worse if he stayed silent.

“Hey! Boy! Hand me that crate!”

Will blinked and innocently spread his hands. “Lo siento, no hablo estupido.”

That earned a chortle from another slave. Both Will and the man who chuckled got twenty lashes for that. His throat soon became raw from screaming, but he never stopped talking.

The next day, when the slave master was yelling meaningless threats to get them to move faster, Will grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, “Well I’d rather be hanged from the rigging of a wolf ship then look at your ugly… wait is that your face?! I thought that was your arse!”

As the guards grabbed Will for the third beating that day, Will sighed, “No one appreciates my humor.”

 

Working in the kitchen, Evenlyn tried to make friends, she really did. Knowing that they would be her best bet to escape. It didn’t go so well. Since she could chop onions without her eyes watering she offered to trade with the poor girl who’d been assigned to them. The head cook did not appreciate that.

“I assign you to what I want you to work on. You can’t trade with other people.”

She emphasized this by stabbing a knife into the table next to Evenlyns hand, Evenlyn didn’t flinch. Which only made the cook angrier. Evenlyn was soon assigned the most miserable jobs they could come up with. Which was difficult since their go to was chopping onions.

That night, Evenly collapsed to the floor she had been placed far from the oven. Which was considered the best spot, as it was very warm. Evenlyn didn’t mind, dragons had a very high tolerance to extreme temperatures. Some of the other slaves noticed she had a high body temperature, they didn’t ask questions, simply cuddled next to her. Evenlyn didn’t care, they were all slaves, at least she could make this a little more bearable for them. She didn’t get much sleep though, despite being warm, she’d heard stories of the new slave boy in the yard. People were placing bets on how long until he was beaten to death for insolence. Worry gnawed at her mind, how was she going to save Will?! If he didn’t shut his mouth or stop pranking there wouldn’t be much left to save.

 

Will had been planning escape now for days, in a couple minutes would be the opening, then he’d be gone. He would of course come back for Evenlyn. But he needed to escape so he could get the necessary supplies and strength to save her. But before he could run, Will went too far. A new slave, a young boy younger than Will, earned himself a beating. Will winced, trying to ignore the pained cries. Will was blowing into his hands and rubbing them to heat them up. The snowflakes drifted around them.

Crack!

A sob, “please, please no more.”

Crack!

Another scream.

Crack!

Silence

Will looked up, the boy had just curled in on himself, whimpering, and taking the hits. Learned helplessness. When someone realizes that there is no way to escape, and no one will save them. They just give up.

Something snapped inside of Will, that was a child! He stomped over as the slave master raised the whip again, it swung down towards the boy's back, but stopped. Will caught it. The end swung around Wills hand from the momentum. He used the leverage to yank the whip out of the slave masters hand.

The boy looked up in surprise, “wh-what?”

Will pointed, “Run, there’s an opening in the guard patrols, run, and don’t stop until you are free. Just outside of the yard there’s a big pine tree, under it is supplies.”

The boy didn’t hesitate. He ran. The slave master shook himself out of his shock and lunged for Will. He obviously assumed that Will was lying about the opening in the guard patrols as he didn’t go after the slave. Will dodged the first blow, he couldn’t run now. He grabbed the slave masters wrist, stuck out his foot, yanked the slave master to the side, and the man sprawled to the ground. Will unraveled the whip, and struck.

Crack!

A scream.

Crack!

A sob.

Crack!

Will didn’t even hear the guards running toward him, the fury in his eyes was unmatched and blood roared in his ears. As he raised the whip again the guards slammed into him. Ripping the whip from his hands, blow after blow rained down on Will, and though he struggled, blackness eventually overtook.

 

When Will awoke, he was tied down bare chested in a chair. But strangely enough, he was warm. He hadn’t been warm since arriving in Skandia, heck, since Eraks vest in the lands of rain and night. But he soon realized with horror where he was. Next to a blazing sconce, and in it? A metal rod twisted into the shape of S. S for slave. Will steadied his breathing. Or he tried to. Fear crashed over him like a wave, they were going to brand him like cattle. A faceless shadow came up to the sconce, and grabbed the cool end of the rod.

“Please, you don’t have to do this.” Will's voice was weak, and raspy.

The man chuckled, “Beg a bit more, it’s funny.” He ruffled Will's hair like one would a dog. The glowing end of the rod came closer to Will's bare chest.

He struggled, “Stop!” The heat got closer. Wills breathing sped up. Eyes wide with fear. “Please!”

The brand was nearly touching Will now, the man holding it stopped, letting Will feel the heat.

Will looked into the man’s eyes, “Why?”

The brand came down, his scream ripped through the air. Pure unfiltered raw agony. The smell of flesh burning as the brand sizzled into his skin. Right below his collarbone. Will thrashed in his bindings, making the whole chair rattle. It went on for an eternity. Blackness seeped around the edges of his vision but never overtook. No, that would be too merciful. Will had to feel every excruciating second. After countless seconds, the brand pulled away, Will slumped in his chair and sobbed. Tears poured down his cheeks dripping off his chin. The bindings were cut away and soon Will was thrown back into the cold. He stumbled and collapsed on the frozen dirt. Still unconsciousness wouldn’t take him. A man came up to him, Will whimpered. “Please, no more.” He looked up into a face he vaguely recognized. One of the slaves who spent a lot of time with the slave master. In the back of his mind, alarm bells rang. But he was so tired, he paid them no heed.

The man crouched next to Will and held out something, “Here, it’ll help with the cold.” He gestured to the brand, “And the heat.”

With a shaky hand Will reached out and grabbed the plant from the slaves hands. “W-what?”

“Eat it, it'll make the pain go away. It’s called warm weed, all of us slaves take it.”

Will didn’t question further, and stuffed the plant into his mouth. A flood warmth filled his body, the pain of the brand dulled slightly, his shivering lessened. “Th-thanks.”

Will didn’t even hear the reply, he was more focused on the warmth flooding through him, and the sweet relief.

Chapter 6: Happy birthday Will

As the door to the sorcerer's library opened, Alyss looked up from the seer scroll. In his usual ranger garb, Gilan walked in. His hair had grown longer, a thick braid with yellow roses weaved in hung down his back.

(Yes this is a passerine reference)

“What do those symbolize?” Asks Alyss softly. To their surprise Gilan and Alyss had found they both really enjoy flowers. They would often send each other drawings of new flowers they came across. Or discuss the reasons certain flowers symbolize certain things. Many of their friends had teased them, “When’s the wedding?” Or “Do you have a flower shaped ring picked out?” But Gilan had his eyes set on a different girl, and Alyss thought of Gilan more as an older brother. Besides, she also had her eyes on someone.

Running his hand gently over the yellow roses, Gilan sighed, “Friendship.” He didn’t need to say more, Alyss nodded. Today was the anniversary of the day Halt found Will. Since Will didn’t know his birthday, they had all agreed to celebrate this date with him. He came forward and leaned over the seer scroll, “Did you find him?”

Shaking her head, Alyss whispered, “No.” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself, “Why are we even trying? Halt is an amazing tracker. It’s not like we could give him new information. There's nothing we can do to help him from here. We would just… have to watch him suffer.”

Looking her in the eyes, Gilans sparkling green irises shone with worry. “Because this way we’ll know he’s alive.” He hesitated, “How would you send Halt a message of Will's whereabouts if you did need to?”

“A dream message,” running a hand down her face, Alyss started searching on the seer scroll again, “I’ve tried to contact Will, but he’s too far away. Soon Halt and Horace will be out of reach as well.”

Frowning, Gilan said hesitantly, “I don’t know much about magic, or seer scrolls. But you’re saying the seer scroll has the range to find him, but needs an exact location. While the dream messages need range, but have the ability to locate him?” Gilan glanced at the seer scroll, “Could you combine them?”

Alyss stared at Gilan, “That’s genius!” She breathed in wonder. She began speaking fast while rushing around the library and grabbing items and ingredients, “Normally no, that would be impossible. But in my first month of being a sorceress I accidentally touched a seer scroll before I was ready!” Alyss carried three large jars of dust quickly across the library, one slipped out of her arm. Smoothly Gilan caught it in one hand and handed it back to her, “Thanks, anyways, because I didn’t have the required magic buffering the seer scroll projected right into my brain.” She set down all the ingredients with a huff and turned to Gilan, her eyes shining in excitement, “Most of the time that would melt the person's brain, but I survived. We still don’t know how. What we do know is by surviving I got a connection to the seer scroll. Allowing me to receive prophetic dreams and hopefully…” she tapped the seer scroll and started piling ingredients onto it, “Hopefully I’ll be able to use the seer scrolls range in my mind while sending a dream message!” She beamed. Then blinked in realization, “Wait, you didn’t understand any of that did you?”

Chuckling, Gilan leaned against the table and folded his arms, “No, but you seem excited, so I’ll assume it’s a good thing.”

“It is, now come here. I’m sure he’ll want to see your face too.” Alyss grabbed Gilans arm and yanked him to stand beside her. Muttering a few spells, the ingredients melted into the scroll. Threading her fingers into Gilans, Alyss tapped the scroll with one hand. “There, next time he falls asleep he’ll see this. Since outside interference could wake him up, we gotta keep this short.”

Gilan leaned over the scroll, “so, it’s like a window? He can see through the seer scroll. So we have to like, lean over it, to show our faces?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Alyss leaned over the scroll, “Hey Will, I don’t know where you are right now. But Gilan and I are here in the sorcerers library. We wanted to send you a message.”

Gilan nodded, Alyss could tell he thought it was weird to be talking to a scroll, but he was trying his best. “Hey bro, We just wanted to say, Halt is coming for you. He’s like halfway across Gallica. Just hold on till Winter, okay? He should be there around then.”

Alyss and Gilan glanced at each other, then back at the scroll, “We also wanted to say we miss you. Don’t give up.” Alyss’s eyes filled with tears, “Don’t you dare give up!”

Grinning sadly, Gilan said, “I swear Will, if you die I’m marching over there to Skandia with a Necromancer just so I can give you a snowball to the face!”

Alyss added softly, “I wish we could give you a hug right now. And say everything’s going to be okay.”

“But we can't, so just hold on till we can, okay? When we get back together, we’ll do a huge group hug! We’ll even force Halt to participate!” Gilan smiled through his tears, “Stay strong little guy.” He held up his hand to the scroll so Will could see him make a heart with it. “You got this.”

Alyss tapped the scroll, and the connection was lost. The moment the scroll dimmed, Gilan slumped, “I wish we could help him more than that.”

“We might actually be able to.” Alyss muttered. She tapped the seer scroll again, it fluttered open and began showing the usual birds eye view of the world. She began directing it, “Since we just did the dream message, we might be able to find Will easier. If we can see him and talk to him. We might be able to find out how to help him.”

Watching curiously, Gilan stiffened, “There! In the yard!”

Alyss zoomed in, the two of them watched closely. It wasn’t long before their eyes widened in horror. “Oh Will,” murmured Alyss.

Stunned, Gilan muttered, “He won't even hear the message will he? Or he’ll hear it, but won’t understand it.” Gilans fist slammed onto the table, “I swear I’m going to burn every Skandian alive.”

Gasping, Alyss leaned back in horror, “Look at his chest!” An ugly mark was scarred into the flesh, it was almost more horrible then the dead obedience and the drug in hand. “They branded him, they branded Will.”

Breathing heavy, Gilan growled, low and feral, “I’m going to step outside.” He stomped out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Alyss heard a muffled howl of rage and anguish.

Alyss couldn't look away, her hands limp at her side. She’d never felt so useless, so helpless. “Will.” Unable to bear it any longer, she closed the scroll and slumped to the floor, shaking with sobs, “Oh Will, what did they do to you?”

 

That night Will shivered in the straw where he slept, an image came to him. Something warmed him, it wasn't the usual warmth of warm weed. It was different, softer. The faces looking at him smiled and promised safety, a distant memory tugged at his brain. Despite the cold, despite not having a fix till morning. He slept soundly, a small smile on his face. The next morning, he awoke, just before he eagerly swallowed his next dose. He vaguely realized that he’d been crying.

Chapter 7: The pony is the mvp

Evenlyn was worried sick. The rumors about Will's legendary pranks and insults had made Evenlyn practically chew her nails from anxiety. Each prank or insult would earn him a beating, and each beating could be his last. But it was so much worse now. Because the rumors? Had just stopped. Was he dead?! That was the only logical conclusion Evenlyn could come up with. If he’d escaped, Evenlyn would’ve heard about that. But instead the rumor was that he helped a different slave escape and beat up a slave master. Then silence. No one seemed to care about Will anymore. He just wasn't interesting. Despite Evenlyn asking, no one knew who she was talking about when she asked if he was alive. They would tell her, there’s no defiant boy with a sharp tongue that has brown hair. All the slaves are complacent. That didn’t sound like Will, something was horribly wrong.

 

“Boy! You’re on the paddles today!” Will numbly rose from the pile of straw he slept on. He stumbled over to the other slaves working on the paddles and together they trekked through the snow. Despite being bare chested, Will didn’t care. Before getting to work he took a big handful of warm weed and the fire lit in his chest. Getting to work he began turning the crank. The skandians had this well out in the cold. Ice would form over the top of the water, so the skandians had rigged up these paddles which would break the ice when turned. The ice needed to constantly be broken or it would get too thick. Being assigned to the paddles was the worst. Constantly being whipped. Working in the freezing cold till your hands bled and your toes had frostbite. Or that’s what he’d thought. It was almost like a dream. A distant memory. Pain, cold, whips, screams. But Will didn’t feel any of that anymore, he didn’t notice anything anymore. If he worked he was given warm weed. So he worked, and said thank you with a smile every time they gave him his fix.

 

Erak and his crew had finally gotten back from Araluen. They’d had some bad luck in the sea, so when they finally got back home they were excited to relax and sell their spoils. Walking through the yard, Erak bumped into a young slave boy with brown hair. Erak glanced at him, and moved on. He’d almost looked familiar. Where did he know someone like that? He shrugged, they probably weren’t the person he knew.

Later that day Erak entered the kitchens, “Is Svengal here drinking rum again?!”

A couple of the slaves and cooks chuckled, “No, he’s not.” The head chef barely glanced up, “Good to see you’re back to drain my alcohol supply, Erak.”

Erak snorted, “Well what's the alcohol supply for if not to be drunk from?!”

A young girl popped her head out of the pantry and looked at Erak, her eyes widened. “ERAK!” She rushed up to him, “Erak it’s me!”

Staring, Erak realized who the boy was in the yard. “Evenlyn!” He stopped realizing that he’d just revealed he knew this girl. Which might hurt his case if they escaped. “I told you to stop bothering me!”

Freezing, Evenlyns face crumpled. The cook shoved her back towards the pantry, “Stop bothering him girl. Get back to work.”

Just before she turned away, Erak winked, he heard her small gasp of realization. Erak turned away and strode out of the kitchen, he had work to do. He’d had to show himself treating Evenlyn like a slave and nothing more, hopefully that would take suspicion off of Erak. Now he needed to get something really strong smelling to mask their scent.

 

Evenlyn was roused from the pantry floor, a slave grumbled, “Cook says you need to go help serve at the late night feast.”

Groaning Evenlyn got up, she slipped out of the kitchens, and was about to grab a tray of drinks to go serve, when someone whistling caught her attention. It wasn’t any skandian tune, it was an old Araluen song. She glanced around, locating the source of the noise, she quietly set down the tray, and crept over to Eraks side. “How do you know that song?”

“Nevermind that, I’m getting you and Will out, tonight.” She followed Erak to the yard, where he bent down and scooped up a frail bare chested boy from the straw.

Evenlyn gasped, “I thought he was dead. After they stopped talking about him resisting-“

Grunting, Erak carried Will to a pony, “He is dead. In mind anyway.”

The starlight shone down on the sleeping boy, slumped against the pony's back, “What do you mean?”

“Warm weed, it’s a drug that makes you complacent. They must’ve gotten him to take it somehow. Probably to stave off the pain of that.” Pointing at the brand, Erak then turned to Evenlyn.

Tearing her eyes away from the horrible scar, Evenlyn turned to the direwolf. “What is this?” She took the bag he handed to her.

“More warm weed, it’s the only way to break his dependence on it without killing him. Give it to him in increasingly smaller amounts with increasingly longer breaks.” Glancing back at the yard, Erak whispered, “There’s supplies in the pack, follow the path into the mountains, there’s a map in the supplies. Stay in the cabin until spring. Your window to sneak out is now, go.”

“Thanks-“

“Go!”

Pulling the pony behind her, Evenlyn quickly slipped into the wilderness, her thoughts racing. She muttered under her breath, “I’m getting you out of this Will.”

 

The sun's first few rays of light shone on the sorry pair. Evenlyn pulled the pony along, While Will rode on its back.

Around two in the morning he’d woken, shivering. Evenlyn tried to warm him with her natural heat, but he wouldn’t stop shivering. He kept staring at her with palms cupped, eyes pleading. She had finally relented and given him a dose of warmweed.

Now that it was morning, he simply sat on the pony and stared at the surrounding wilderness. He didn’t seem to notice or care about being out of the yard. Evenlyn was near collapse. She’d been too nervous about resting too close to civilization and being caught, so she’d hiked till morning.

Finally her legs couldn't take it anymore. She hadn’t slept nearly at all before Erak had broken her out. She needed rest. The path had no snow, she hadn’t dared to leave it in fear of making tracks. Leading the pony off to the side of the path, Evenlyn pulled the stubborn beast under an evergreen's low hanging branches. They were low enough to the ground that the end touched the snow, but the base of the branches were high enough that it created a curving roof. And hid them from the view of outsiders.

Not taking any chances, after leaving boy and beast under the evergreen she messed up the snow that they’d tromped through to get to the tree, it was like they’d never been there. She stumbled back into the natural tent, and helped Will off the pony. Was the world supposed to be swaying? She ignored this and scooped fresh snow into Will's mouth to hydrate him. She lifted a scoop to her own mouth and nearly melted from relief, she hadn’t realized how dehydrated she’d been. Grabbing Will like a teddy bear, he barely reacted as she shifted into her dragon form, curled around him, and fell asleep.

 

Evenlyn awoke around noon, from Will shaking her awake. “Is something wrong?” She whispered.

He pointed at the warmweed bag and smiled with those big hopeful eyes. Cupping his hands excitedly.

Evenlyns heart sank. “Alright,” she portioned out about half the amount she’d given to him earlier, “There ya go.” She poured the small portion into his cupped hands, his smile widened. She watched him sadly as he swallowed the plant.

At least he hadn’t tried to get to it himself. She had a feeling he had already tried that with the slave masters and learned it was a bad idea. She shuddered to think what sort of punishment they would inflict on him to get the message through his drugged brain. She led him out by his hand, “Come on Will. We need to get moving.” She helped him into the pony, which he clung to.

He almost acted childlike. Watching the wildlife with wonder. He never spoke, never smiled, just watched with those big brown eyes.

 

After hiking for nearly three hours, Evenlyn saw it in the distance. A cabin. It was small, but cozy. She hurried forward excitedly. Pulling the pony behind her-

fwump

Evenlyn glanced back and nearly snorted from the sheer absurdity. Surprised by her haste, Will had fallen off the pony. Her laughter died though as he didn’t get up. He simply lay there, staring at the clouds. Evenlyn pulled him up and brushed the snow off of his bare shoulders. “I’ll see if there’s a cloak in the supplies when we arrive, alright?” She probably should have checked earlier, but in her haste to get to the cabin, she hadn’t thought of it.

Going more slowly now, Evenlyn led the pony, which carried Will, up the slope until they reached the cabin. She led the pony to the side hut, there was some dried horse feed in a bag on the wall. Evenlyn poured some out for the pony. Will patiently stood by. He was staring at the cabin with a confused look on his face. Evenlyn didn’t know what to make of that, she gently led him inside and sat him down at the table. ”Alright, let’s see what we have in terms of food.“

Chapter 8: Halt is a savage

Halt and Horace rode down the path, they were nearly there. Just get past this one town and there would be a week long ride through the wilderness until Skandia. Of course that would be easier said than done. They’d done their best to hide that they were magical. But Horace’s Araluen accent gave them away most every time. So Horace had learned to keep his mouth shut when people were around.

They decided to stop and barter for one last bag of coffee beans, and maybe a cup of coffee as well. Settling into their seats, Halt and Horace clutched their cups of coffee like it was salvation in liquid form. Horace really hated having to keep his mouth shut, but he hated being thrown out of taverns more.

Horace barely glanced up from his coffee when the door swung open, he did look up when the whole tavern fell silent. A tall dark haired man with a sharp gaze sweeping over the tavern. It landed on Horace, who felt a chill down his spine. The man wore large dark gloves and a billowing black cape. His silver armor gleamed in the light of the lanterns.

“My friends!” He proclaimed loudly, “You know I strive to keep you safe from the monsters that hide in our midst.” With a dramatic flourish, he continued, “And I know you have all been begging me to deal with this giant werewolf myth that has sprung up.” He smirked, “They say it has fur as black as midnight, and fangs as long as a person.”

Calmly sipping his coffee, Halt showed no outward signs of anger. But his eyes were darting about, calculating.

“If you didn’t know, werewolves are not black. Ever. They are only ever grey or brown. However.” He lifted a finger dramatically, “They do have a cousin. Rarer than dragons, larger than houses, and black as the abyss.” His smile was dazzling, “Lycanthropes.” There were murmurs around the tavern “Well fear not! For I have located the beast. It sits among you, right here, right now.”

Halt snorted loudly, he quickly fake coughed to cover up his fake amusement, as the dramatic strangers eyes swung towards him, “Sorry, but do you think this is new information?!” Everyone stared at Halt who continued, “You don’t need to save these people from the lycanthrope, I’ve already done that.” He gestured at Horace, “He is my prisoner.”

Horace blinked in surprise then bowed his head in submission. Whatever Halts plan was he needed to play along.

Halt took a sip of his coffee then added with a smug smirk, “And by the way, Lycanthropes come in two colors, black and white. This isn’t the first I’ve caught. Though it’s obvious it’s the first you’ve tried to hunt. For a ‘renowned’ magic hunter” Halt made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers at “renowned”. “You’re still wet behind the ears.”

Silence.

The magic hunter strode up to Halt and growled, “Is that so? Vampire!”

Rolling his eyes like the man was an idiot, Halt said “Again, do you really think this is new information?” He threw back his hood, and stood up, baring his fangs, “Yes, I’m a vampire. You don’t just hunt magical creatures without getting bit a few times. Where are your hunting scars?” He gave the magic hunter an exaggerated up-down with his eyes, “To me it looks like you simply take the credit of your men who do the actual hunting.”

There was a muffled snort of laughter from another patron. The magic hunter turned and glared at them causing them to stifle their laughter.

Halt tilted his head, “Now if you’re done with your,” he gestured with thinly veiled disgust at the magic hunter, “Theatrics.” He gestured at Horace to follow him, “I’ve got a pack of manticores to track.” He gave an exaggerated nod towards the magic hunter, “Good day.” With that, Horace and Halt strode out of the tavern.

 

Back on the road, Horace was barely hiding his laughter, “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Where did you learn to act like that?!”

“Gilan,” smugly, Halt added, “anyone who spends time around him learns a bit of theater. I simply have enough dignity that I don't use it unless necessary.”

Still snickering, Horace recounted, “The look on his face when you called him wet behind the ears.”

“I’m glad you found it amusing,” a voice said coldly, “I shall take equal pleasure from your screams.” The magic hunter appeared out onto the road ahead, riding a black unicorn. The poor beast had numerous scars and a chip in the horn.

Horace’s hand went to his sword, but Halt stopped him with a glance. “He’s a professional magic hunter. Any magic we use only powers him further.“ Horace took his hand off the hilt. Since defeating Morgorath he’d taken the warlock's sword. The blade was still enchanted with dark magic.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the magic hunter's cold cruel voice slipped into their ears like slime, “I am lord Deparnieux. I would love it if you joined me at my castle for dinner.”

“Thanks but I’m vegan.” Horace muttered.

Halt and Deparnieux both looked at Horace.

“Okay! Okay! Not a time for jokes! Just lightening the mood!” Horace put his hands up.

Scowling, Halt turned back to Deparnieux, “I assume you have some means to ensure we cooperate?”

“Certainly,” he waved his hand and there was a growl that made Halt and Horace freeze. Stalking up from behind Deparnieux was a fully grown chimera.

“Uh, you can take that right?” Whispered Horace.

Halt scowled, “A chimera? No. Faster than our mounts, dangerous venom, breathes fire, the list goes on. The only creatures that hunt chimeras are basilisks and dragons.”

Chuckling, Deparnieux applauded, “So you do know you’re beasts. Wonderful.” He snapped his fingers and the chimera dashed past Halt and Horace turning to face them. “Come along now. I’ve trained my chimera to herd like a border shepherd, so unless you want your mounts getting nipped I’d suggest you hurry.”

“What do we do?” Whispered, Horace, hesitantly.

Face as dark as night, Halt reluctantly said, “We play along for now.”

 

Arriving at Lord Deparnieuxs castle was nothing short of a nightmare. Deparnieux led them past rows and rows of cages, most filled with magical beings. An elf gripped the bars, watching the two newcomers with dead eyes. A manticore prowled its enclosure, flinching at any loud noise.

There was a massive tank in the entrance hall filled with merfolk, sirens, and even a young direwolf. Some of them banged on the glass yelling for help, others drifted aimlessly, their eyes vacant. Horace’s face was a mask of horror. He had friends who were these species. Staring at the siren, he thought of Berrigan, one of the few rangers in the corps who wasn't a vampire. Halt kept his eyes fixed in front of him, trying to avoid looking at the horrifying spectacles.

But even worse was the trophy room, mounted heads of witches, stuffed trolls, and perytons. Halts face showed no sign of disgust, simply stone cold stoicism. Still they were led further in, Horace felt sick when he realized that the lights weren’t lanterns. But trapped fairies in jars. Finally they reached their destination, a large cage, big enough for lycanthrope.

The guards grabbed Horace and shoved him in. Horace didn’t resist, he trusted Halt. Though his face flushed with rage as the guards fitted a black collar around his neck.

Deparnieux nodded at the collar, “It'll stretch to fit you when you take your wolf form. But until you decide to, you can enjoy the pain.”

Falling to the ground, Horace writhed, screeching in agony, clutching at the collar.

“Stop it.” Halt's voice was colder than a blizzard. “That won’t do anything! Stop!”

Deparnieux held up a gloved hand and Horace fell still. Lifting his head wearily he gave Halt a thumbs up. The magic hunter turned to look at Halt, “What do you mean it won’t do anything? Lycanthropes change at will. I’m simply motivating him.” His face was calm and pleasant, like they were old friends.

Snarling, Halt snapped, “Of course they do. But you arent the first whos tried torture.”

Deparnieux waved for him to continue, “What would you suggest?”

Groaning on the floor, Horace muttered, “A hot meal with coffee?”

A guard kicked him, “Shut up,”

Raising an eyebrow, Halt said, “Why would I tell you my secrets?” Dryly, he added, “Though if you had half a brain cell you’d stop to think for a moment why I was treating him like an equal.”

That made Deparnieux pause in thought, “I assumed that it simply thought you were its friend.”

“Well of course,” Halt narrowed his eyes at Deparnieux, “Doesn't that chimera think you're its friend.”

“You were training him.” Deparnieux smiled, “I see,” gesturing at Horace he asked, “The boy is obviously intelligent enough to take complex commands. So if he obeys you, then would he listen to you if you told him to obey me?”

Rolling his eyes, Halt folded his arms, “Why would I tell him to do that?” Held up a hand stopping Deparnieux from speaking, “Let’s make a little game out of this, I’ve never met someone who has tamed a chimera, and you obviously don’t know the first thing about taming a lycanthrope. So why not see who's the better hunter. Winner takes all.”

Deparnieux narrowed his eyes, “Are you suggesting a hunt?“

“Of sorts,” Halt gestured at Horace, “Hunting a magical beast is too easy. I’m saying we hunt each other. A duel.”

…

“Very well.” He gestured at the guards, “Bring the lycanthrope.” Turning back to Halt he smirked, “May the best hunter win.”

“Indeed.”

 

Halt stood on the large tournament field, with his longbow in hand, the field was massive, Deparnieux mounted his horse on the other end. Horace stood by, pretending not to hate the collar around his neck leashed to a nearby pole. The sky was grey and cloudy, the wind rushed by.

The guards counted them in, Halt waited patiently until,
“begin.”

Deparnieux charged, his black unicorns hooves thudded against the hard ground, Halt didn’t move a muscle. He looked up at the oncoming beast with what could only be described as boredom. Deparnieux swung his sword as the unicorn thudded past Halt's still form, and finally Halt moved. Ducking under the swinging sword, he turned and fired three arrows into the chinks in Deparnieuxs armor.

Deparnieux roared in anger. Pulling his unicorn around. Clutching his bleeding shoulder. He seemed to decide trampling Halt was an easier path to victory.

Sighing at the man’s idiocy, Halt again waited until the unicorn was practically on top of him. Then he simply crouched down. The Unicorn, not wanting to stumble on Halt, leapt over him. In doing so it caused Deparnieux to almost lose his balance, While he was attempting to recover, Halt fired another two arrows in rapid succession. The force slammed into Deparnieuxs armor, unbalancing him further. Crashing to the ground, Deparnieux flailed for a moment before rolling to his feet.

He wasn’t fast enough, Halt was by his side in an instant. Grabbing Deparnieuxs helmet and ripping it off, Halt slammed the metal into Deparnieuxs head, knocking him out.

Halt turned back to the guards, “Let him go.” The guard dropped the keys to Horace’s collar and scrambled away. Dragging Deparnieuxs limp body in one hand, Halt strode over. “Well that was easy. The idiot was used to people using magic against him. He wasn’t prepared for actual skill.”

Removing the collar, Horace grinned, “What are you going to do with him?”

“I’ll let his former prisoners decide.”

Chapter 9: Lamb stew

Evenlyn grabbed the bow, she’d found it in the cabin. She needed to go hunting. Every day was a struggle for food. Glancing over at Will, her heart broke a little. He rarely moved, unless Evenlyn told him to. He followed her orders perfectly, almost robotically. Because of this she tried to stop ordering him around. It felt wrong. Every day, he would come to her, hands cupped, eyes shining with excitement. She gave him smaller and smaller portions of warmweed. And the time between portions grew longer. At first it was twice a day. Now it was once a day. Slinging the quiver over her shoulders, Evenlyn called out, “I’m heading out Will, I’ll be back.”

He didn’t respond, he never did.

Hunting had been a struggle, Evenlyn wasn't nearly as good with a bow as she needed to be. There was a movement in the snow. Her eyes narrowed, locking on the rabbit. She raised the bow slowly, trying not to scare it. Thwip! The arrow landed in the snow, spooking the rabbit which dashed away. Evenlyn sighed. Narrowing her eyes she saw some tracks, more rabbit tracks. There were a lot. There must be a burrow nearby. Chewing on her lip, she tried to think how she could use this to her advantage. Then like a spark, an idea came to her. “Snares.”

She didn’t know much about how to make snares, but she was clever, surely she could figure it out. Tromping back to the cabin she left the bow on the table next to Will, not bothering to unstring it, she’d do that later. After about ten minutes of fiddling with rope and string and sticks, she managed to get a working snare. It probably wasn’t the most clean or efficient snare, but it worked! Turning back to Will she froze in shock. It looked as though Will hadn’t moved an inch, but the bow on the table was unstrung. Smiling to herself, Evenlyn thought, he probably doesn't even know why he did that. But I do. He’s remembering, even if only subconsciously for now.

 

About a week later, Will was becoming much more responsive. He’d said his first words, “Thanks.” When she gave him warmweed. Even if he was thanking her for the drug, it was progress. He would smile when he smelled food. One time Evenlyn walked in on him looking at a carved piece of wood. Evenlyn had no idea where he got it, but the cabin had a lot of strange knicknacks left behind from previous occupants. It was almost like a museum. But what caught Evenlyns attention was that it was a carving of an Oakleaf. Will ran his hands over the carving, a confused expression on his face.

Evenlyn sat down next to him, she brushed away a curl of brown hair from his eyes, “Will, what does this remind you of?”

Will scrunched his face like he was trying to remember the word, “Safety?” He frowned, “No.” Then his eyes lit up, like he’d just found the right word, “Home.” The confusion flooded his face. “Home?” A small tear ran down his cheek.

Whispering, Evenlyn wiped the tear away, “We’ll get you home.” But Will's confusion didn’t pass, it was like he didn’t know what home was, he knew how it made him feel. But he didn’t know why. Evenlyn sighed, she set to work butchering the rabbits she’d caught, her snares were highly effective now. “We’re having stew tonight, I found a couple vegetables in jars-“

A murmur behind him made her pause, “Lamb stew… home…” Will trailed off, his face was scrunched, like he was trying to remember. Evenlyn vaguely remembered, those many days chained to the mast of the ship. They had talked about their lives in Araluen. Will had made an offhand comment about how his favorite food was lamb stew. He liked it so much that Halt had learned to cook it. Even though Halt was a vampire and usually just bought prepared food for Will.

Evenlyn turned back to Will, “You’ve got this Will, you’re so close.” She smiled at him gently, “Do you remember who made you lamb stew?” She’d had this hunch for a long time that Halt was the key. If Will could remember Halt then he’d come back.

More tears welled in his eyes, he whispered, “more?” Cupping his hands he gave her a pleading look.

Evenlyns heart sank. They were on their last little bit of warmweed, it had been nearly the five days that he’d gone without warmweed. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask for it. Considering telling him to wait or just not giving it to him, Evenlyn glanced back at the rabbits. She sighed, “Alright. But this is our last dose. No more after this.”

Will smiled, “More?!”

Rolling her eyes, Evenlyn muttered something about selective hearing and strode outside to grab the bag of warmweed from where she’d hid it. Stomping through the snow, Evenlyn shivered. She hadn’t put her cloak back on because she was just grabbing the drug bag. Having hid it far enough from the cabin that the cabin was out of sight, Evenlyn had a little ways further to march. Finally she reached the warmweed bag, and reached into the tree knothole where she’d stored it. There was a shifting of movement behind her, and Evanlyn spun just in time to get clonked over the head, and everything went black.

 

Horace and Halt rode their mounts up the path. Far into the mountains, they were getting close. So close. Horace pointed out some tracks, they’d made a game of it. Since there was so much snow around every time they saw tracks, Horace would try to guess what animal it came from. Halt who knew the answer would give hints with sarcasm. But this time as Horace pointed out the tracks and guessed deer, Halt frowned and pulled Abelard to stop. Dismounting he peered at the tracks, his face twisted with concern. “No, those are centaur tracks.”

Blinking, Horace wondered, “How do you know they are centaur tracks? Wouldn’t Centaur tracks look like horse tracks?”

“To an untrained eye, yes. But I’ve dealt with centaurs before. They call themselves temujai.” Halt stride back to Abelard and urged him forward.

Frowning, Horace called out, “Wait but, aren't the Temujai from the eastern steppes?”

“Yes,” Halt glanced back at Horace, “That's why I’m concerned that some are here.”

 

Evenlyn awoke with a groan, she was upside down, blood rushed to her head. From her awkward position she could vaguely tell she was swung over the back of a horse. Raising her head slightly, she glanced up. But as she looked up, she was cuffed over the head. It wasn’t enough to permanently hurt her, but it made her see spots for a second. Okay, no looking up. From what little she had seen from the first glance, her captor wasn't a horse rider, but a centaur. What were the temujai doing in Skandia? Why had they taken her captive?

After several agonizing minutes, they reached their destination. She was swung off the back of the centaur like cargo, and thrown into the snow. Her wrists and ankles were tied so there was not much she could do but look at her captor with the most annoyed expression she could muster. In truth she was terrified. This centaur was obviously a warrior, his armor and weapons attested to that. If a temujai warrior was in Skandia, that probably meant they were invading again. If they had taken her captive, Evenlyn could only imagine horror in her future. Despite all this Evenlyn wasn’t really afraid for herself. She was afraid for Will. The poor boy could barely think and talk, much less care for himself. What would happen if she went missing or died.

 

Will blinked, then blinked again. Where was he? Looking around he noted that he was in a cabin. Half assembled stew and freshly butchered rabbits were on the nearby counter. Struggling to think back, he remembered being enslaved, then branded. His hand brushed against the horrible scar. But after that, it was a blur of cold, and pain. There were a few memories that were clearer than others, oakleaf carving, the bow needed to be unstrung. But mostly the feeling of being sad. Homesick. And Evenlyn, asking him to remember Halt. Where was Evenlyn? He stood and made his way towards the door, Evenlyn wouldn’t just leave Will and the food unattended for no reason. He needed to find her. Snatching the hunting bow and the quiver, he donned a spare cloak and set out.

Following her tracks he stopped, horse tracks? But no, vaguely recalling a lesson about magical creature tracks. Centaur tracks look almost exactly like horse tracks, but pointier. These were centaur tracks. What were the temujai doing in Skandia? Why had they taken Evenlyn? Silently slipping through the woods, Will followed the tracks. It was becoming night, he needed to hurry.

As he created a snow drift, he saw it. It was a small camp in the snow. About twenty temujai milled about. Where was Evenlyn? There! Off on the right, a pine tree, a figure sat slumped against the bindings holding her in place. Will silently began to creep forward, if he could get behind her and cut her free, they could sneak away before anyone knew he was there. But before Will even got a few steps, one of the temujai started shouting at the other. They shouted for a while then the younger trotted over to Evenlyn, sword raised.

Evenlyn screamed. But when she peaked her eyes open, the temujai had stopped. He pulled an arrow out of his armor. Will stood on the crest of the snowbank, bow raised. His heart sank, the arrow hadn’t pierced the armor all the way through. The hunting bow didn’t have a strong enough draw weight. The temujai snarled and snapped the arrow in half, galloping towards Will with his sword raised.

 

Halt heard a scream up ahead, he’d found tracks in the snow that had Wills scent. His heart had leapt with joy. But upon hearing the scream his body went cold, horror flooded through him which was soon replaced by anger. He didn’t even think, he just let go.

Chapter 10: Pack.

Will fell backwards, his arms covering his face. At least twenty arrows stuck in the centaurs armor, but it hadn’t been enough. The sword swung in slow motion.

A growl ripped the air, and before anyone could react a wall of black fur slammed into the temujai. Will froze in shock as crimson splattered across the white snow.

 

Kill. Tear. Protect. Flesh. Rip. Destroy. Enemy? Gone. A flash of teeth. Sweet blood on his tongue. The taste of fear. One tried to run. Mistake. Crunch of bones. Ripping through flesh. A scream cut short. Claws ripped through armor. Steel? Pathetic. Snatching the enemy in his jaws, he flung the screaming wretch high into the air. His hunger was insatiable. More enemies, more blood, more flesh, more screams, more more more!
Soon there was more red than white. A horrified scream pierced the air, spinning, the beast faced the terrified figure. More enemies? More blood? But something made the beast freeze, a scent. Pack? Protect. Cub. The boy's terrified face came slowly into focus. Something was wrong. Kill! No! Protect pack! But that scent. It was… off. He couldn’t move. Moving would unleash the beast. He must protect. He must kill. Blood. Sweet gore. Cub. Protect cub. can’t move. Cub scared. Pack. Protect. Cub. Protect? How? Kill? No. Stay still. The terrified boy's gasps filled his ears. Must comfort Cub. No, no movement.

 

Will stood, frozen in fear. He’d watched this beast massacre the Temujai. He’d watched him eat the centaurs, and even flung one of them over the mountain.

Blood soaked into the beast's fur and dripped from his fangs which were bared in a snarl. The black eyes gleamed in the moonlight. The beast didn’t move, it didn’t relax nor did it attack. It simply crouched in a fighting stance, eyes fixed on Will. The snarl never wavering.

He could hear the ragged breathing. The smell of blood, metallic. Will felt sticky, and realized he was also covered in gore. The moonlight gleamed off of the crimson on the midnight fur.

Raising the bow with shaking hands, he drew an arrow back to his cheek, and loosed it at the beast. The beast didn’t even flinch, the arrow simply got caught in the matted thick fur. Blood continued to drip slowly from the beast's fangs, mixed with saliva.

There wasn't a sound, save for the drip of blood and the heavy breathing of boy and beast.

Still the beast did not attack. Why wasn't it attacking? Breathless, Will stared at the colossal wolf. What was it waiting for? The longer Will stared the more he felt a growing sense of familiarity. The silence stretched. The reek of blood clogged Will's senses. But under that? Barely noticeable. Will smelled coffee, and pine needles. Was he imagining it? Staring at the beast, Will's gaze drifted to the eyes, those massive black eyes. They were so familiar. No. That’s not possible.

Will reached forward slowly, the beast growled. But Will didn’t stop, “You would never hurt me.”

At Will's voice the beast's ears flicked, just slightly. Slowly its growl faded.

Will continued to step forward slowly, “It’s me, it’s Will. You know me.”

His mind screamed at him, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! IT'S GONNA KILL YOU!!! But in his gut, Will was sure.

Wills hand met fur. It was smooth. With his hand placed at the beast's forehead. Will whispered, “You’re my dad, Halt.”

The wolf slowly blinked at him, and its snarl slowly faded. The wolf sniffed him gently, making Will chuckle, “your breath stinks worse than Horace’s.”

At Will's laugh, the beast relaxed fully. Nudging Will with his snout, the wolf's ears pricked. Will fell over into the snow from the force of the nudge. “Hey, watch it!” Will grinned playfully.

“Will!” Horace trotted over, Evenlyn beside him.

Glancing over Will beamed, “Horace! What are you doing here? How did you get here? Halt is a wolf!”

Running forward, Horace ignored his questions and pulled Will into a bone breaking hug. “You idiot! Do you have any idea how worried we all were?” Quietly he added, “We missed you Will. I missed you so much.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, big guy.”

A cough drew their attention, Evenlyn stood with her hands on her hips. “First of all, you took your damn time recovering, William. Second of all, is no one going to mention that there is a lycanthrope right there?!”

With a fake offended gasp, Will exclaimed, “It’s Will, not William, not Wilbur, not Will you please shut up already. Just Will.”

Scowling, Evenlyn turned to Halt, “You said he’s Halt? Are you sure?”

Will and Horace nodded.

“Then why hasn’t he changed back yet? He’s obviously calm enough.”

At this Horace murmured, “He struggles to change back every time he transforms. Ever since Morgorath enchanted him to stay in lycanthrope form. Even though the enchantment is gone, it still affects his brain.”

Halt had been watching all of this silently. But his eyes kept flicking back to Will. Finally he made his move.

Will yelped, “hey! What the-!“

The wolf had picked him up by the scruff of his shirt with his teeth and padded away carrying Will. Horace and Evenlyn yelped and scrambled after their friend.

Dangling from the wolf’s jaws, Will flailed. “Halt! What are you-?”

Finally they reached a large clearing far from the bloodied temujai camp. The wolf fwumped down in the snow, he set down Will gently next to his chest, then curled up around Will.

“Okay, I know you missed me, but you have to let me go sometime.” Will grumbled. “Besides-“ he was cut off as the wolf licked Wills hair. “Ew! No! We are not doing the grooming thing.”

The wolf tilted its head then contented itself with nuzzling Will and lying its head down next to the boy.

“Yes, you are very cute,” Will sighed and flopped against the wolfs fur dramatically, “I know, I missed you too.”

Chapter 11: Ooooo, Halts mad!

Halt didn’t transform back for a full day. Will was worried about his mentor, but Horace assured him it’s fine. Horace recalled Halt telling Horace that it’s a lot harder to change back if Halt gets enraged.

The morning after Halt had arrived, Evenlyn came to visit. She had led Horace to the cabin and they slept inside that night. Halt was adamant however that Will never leave his sight. Will would have been frustrated except he knew that Halt literally had no control. He was just emotions and instincts.

“Hey! The stream unfroze! Wanna see if we can get fish?” Evenlyn called.

“Shouldn't we start heading back home?”

Evnlyn shook her head, “The pass is too dangerous in winter. The only person who can navigate it is Halt in lycanthrope form. Horace tells me he nearly died like a hundred times trying to get the horses through the pass. And I honestly don’t know how we would communicate to Halt where we need to go. He’s just happy you’re back with him.”

“Right,” Will shrugged, “Then sure, fish, let’s go!”

 

Halt watched the kids try and fail to catch fish. Evenlyn nearly caught one. She had been standing near the small waterfall and shooting her hand out to catch the fish that leapt out. She managed to grab one, but then Horace cheered, making Evenlyn jump in surprise, causing her to drop the fish. Will tried shooting the fish from the bank, which worked well, but the current would pull the dead fish away before they could grab them. Horace was straight up leaping in and trying to grab the fish with his barehands.

Finally the lycanthrope seemed to tire of his kids being stupid. Jumping into the ice cold water he snapped up ten fish in seconds. Will snorted at Horace yelping and jumping out of the stream.

But then the lycanthrope turned and looked at Will, like, something funny?

Will backed up, “hey woah, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

But the lycanthrope stalked towards him.

Will's eyes widened as the huge beast loomed over him.

Then the lycanthrope walked past, and shook his fur like a dog. Icy droplets flew everywhere soaking Will in freezing water.

“Hey! Stop!” Will covered his face, but it was futile. Soon Will was drenched from head to toe.

The lycanthrope flopped next to Will with a huff of amusement.

“You asshole.” Grumbled Will, Scowling.

 

After they had made it back to the cabin, laughing through chattering teeth. Will was grateful the Halt wasn’t so clingy that he wouldn’t let Will go inside and change.

Soon they found out why, when reappearing out of the cabin. Will's eyes went to the sky, his cheeks and ears turning red. Halt was there in human form. “Stop staring at the clouds and get me some clothes.”

Will dashed inside and brought out some clothes, then turned away so Halt could get dressed. He was about to ask if he could turn around when Halt grabbed his shoulders, spun Will to face him, then pulled him into a hug. Will stood still for a moment, then tears welled in his eyes and he threw his arms around Halt. Halt held him until he stopped sobbing. Looking up, Will realized with embarrassment that Horace and Evenlyn were there. Their eyes filled with concern. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, “I’m fine.”

Halt growled, “Bullshit. Now you are going to tell me exactly who hurt you and how.” He started shooing the kids inside.

Stumbling into the warmth of the cabin, Will's bottom lip trembled, then he whispered, “I don’t care about revenge, can we please just go home?”

“I'm afraid I can’t control my lycanthrope form enough to understand complex commands like carry kids across the mountain pass. And even if I did, it would be a mistake for me to go through Gallica as a lycanthrope. The magic hunters there number many. I don’t know how many more times I can take lycanthrope form.”

Will blinked, “What? There's a limit?”

“I didn’t think so. But since it’s gotten harder to change back…” Halt shrugged.

“Oh, you’re scared of getting stuck.”

Sighing, Halt sat Will down at the table and moved to sit beside him. “Talk.”

Will hesitated, then the whole story spilled out. Evenlyn chimed in a couple times to give her perspective. But it was mostly Will describing everything.

Halts expressions changed ever so slightly throughout the retelling. To an outsider it would almost look like he wasn’t reacting at all. But Will knew Halt, the subtle lift of the eyebrow, the slight downturn of the mouth.

There were few interruptions to Wills retelling. Horace burst out laughing when Will described taking over the skandian ship with bad puns. Throughout the storm everyone was silent. Though Will shivered at the memory. His voice quavered slightly when he recalled being split up from Evenlyn. Throughout the description of the yard the back breaking work, the threat of frostbite, the countless beatings. Halts eyes sharpened in anger. When he got to his escape plan, Evenlyn whispered, “I never heard about that.”

Will nodded, “Because it didn’t go according to plan. There was a kid, a young kid. They were beating him. I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. So I let him take the supplies and escape route while I held off the guards.“

“You held off the guards on your own?” Whispered Horace, “with no weapon?”

“Not exactly. I kind of distracted them by nearly killing the guy who beat the kid, with his own whip.”

Horace and Evenlyn took a sharp breath. Halt's face darkened. They all knew that such an act wouldn’t go unpunished.

Will took a deep breath and described the branding. At this Halt stopped him, “May I see it?”

Hesitating, Will pulled down the collar of his shirt to show the brand, ugly and dark brown. Despite it having been months, the scar still hadn’t healed fully.

Will looked up at Halts face, afraid of his reaction.

Halt was silent, his left eye twitched, but other than that his face stayed like stone. Finally he spoke, his voice was colder than the harshest winter, “Who?”

“Please,” begged Will, “I hate them too, but I don’t want to jeopardize our ability to go home by hunting them down.”

“Answer the question.”

Will sighed, “I don’t know who exactly administered the brand. The person I blame most for all of this is Tharkell. He’s the slimy sycophant who kidnapped us from Erak and took us to Skandia.”

Nodding, Halt gruffly said, “Continue with your story.”

“Well that’s the thing,” whispered Will, “I don’t know what happened next. I remember getting branded, then I was sent back into the slave yard. Someone approached me. I vaguely remember deciding to trust them with something despite my gut saying I shouldn't. Then it gets really fuzzy. A lot of cold, a lot of pain. The haze starts to clear with Evenlyn asking me questions and talking to me. Eventually the fog cleared completely. I was in this cabin, Evenlyn was gone. I grabbed the bow and tracked her down. That’s when you found us at the temujai camp.”

Halt turned his gaze on Evenlyn. “Your turn.”

Her voice calm and sure, Evenlyn began. As Will listened, her story was much the same, a little less pain and defiance and a lot less cold. Since she worked in the kitchens. But then it got to the part where Erak helped them escape, and Evenlyn learned that Will had been taking Warmweed.

“What?! I was drugged?” Will's voice went up in pitch, “Oh, that actually explains a lot.”

Evenlyn described the escape and Will's slow recovery. When she described Will talking about lamb stew and home. Halt and Will shared a melancholy glance. Finally she got to the part where the temujai captured her.

She shrugged, “Then Will shot the guy just as he was about to kill me. It didn’t hurt him but got his attention. So he went to kill Will who he saw as the bigger threat. Then Halt was there.”

Scowling, Halts hand drifted towards his knife, it was clear he was thinking, planning. “We need to warn the skandians.”

All three kids looked at him, shocked, “WHAT?!”

Chapter 12: Update!

Hey guys! I just wanted to post this notice. I have been getting requests to continue this fanfic. But I am afraid for the foreseeable future this fanfic series is finished.
It’s not that I don’t have ideas for future chapters or anything like that. It’s because I have been dealing with a serious amount of stress and problems in my personal day to day life. So please understand I will be writing the fanfics that I am currently inspired to write. This will help me calm down more than forcing myself to write what I’m not inspired to write. Besides, I have learned after writing several books worth of stories. The writing is always better if you wrote when you are ready. I have never experienced writing block. And that’s not what this is. This is a redirection of my attention. I will come back when I am ready. Thank you for your patience. And I hope you aren’t too disappointed. This was a really fun fanfiction. And I hope I get back to it soon!
Have a great day!

Chapter 13: Update 2

Okay I’m probably gonna take this and the previous chapter down soon. I just want to update you, I’m hopefully done with my mental and physical health break. I’ve gotten the next chapter out. But since this is the end of the wolf in chains the story will continue in book 4 “When Wolves Gather.” So thanks for your patience. I’m excited to get back to this!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Rangers that bite