Adopted by a Wolf

Chapter 5

Rodrig didn't say a single word while they waited for Lama to grab her examination tools. When she started to examine him, Rodrig flinched at every touch, like it burned. His eyes darted from Jeremiah to the door, to the window, to Lama and back to Jeremiah.

“You've got no new injuries." Lama said. “But you're clearly emotionally distraught. I have a sleeping draft that will knock you out for the night."

“No." Rodrig said. “I'm not going to sleep." He stood up and backed away.

“Sweety. I swear." Lama tried to reassure him. “You're in no danger."

“Bullshit." Rodrig swore before staring daggers at Jeremiah and then out the window.

“Rodrig." Jeremiah said. “I take full responsibility for what happened tonight. But I swear to you, Alfonse meant no harm."

“I don't want to hear it." Rodrig said. “Stay the fuck away from me."

Jeremiah winced like he had just been pinched. Rodrig didn't care. The fear was gone and it was replaced by a burning rage. He was sick of being the victim and he wanted others to hurt like he hurt five times over. Fuck the werewolves. Fuck the assholes at the academy. Fuck everyone.

Jeremiah scooted his chair back and got up.

“I'll go set up my tent and sleep outside for the night." He said. “Is Alfonse still awake?"

“Not likely." Lama said. “I gave him an extra dose of the sleeping draft. He's probably passed out on my kitchen table."

“Okay. I'll go collect him after I'm done setting up the tent." Jeremiah said. He got up and started to make his way out the now destroyed doorway. “I'm so sorry, Rodrig," Jeremiah said before bowing towards him and stepping into the night.

“I have a spare bedroll. If you want, I can set you up in my living room tonight." Lama tried to offer. Rodrig did not answer. She sighed and started packing up her tools. “I can also put up a tarp to keep the bugs out if you would prefer to be alone. I'll be back in a little bit to check up on you and see what you've decided." She then left.

Once they were all gone, Rodrig got to work. He fished a fresh shirt out of his pack before slipping it and his boots back on. He grabbed the bottle of healing salve and what was uneaten of the bread loaf, wrapping them both up and shoving them in his bag. He hopes the healing salve was worth as much as Jeremiah claimed it was. He would need the cash when he found a buyer. He also grabbed the butter knife, hiding it up his sleeve. It was a shitty weapon, but it was better than nothing. If he remembered his general training at the academy well, he was pretty sure there was another village nearby that was to the west. He would head that way.

He grabbed the crutch and stepped out into the night. He made his way back to the dirt road that they came from, making sure to take the long way around the barn so as to avoid notice. He was taking his survival into his own hands, gods damn the consequences.

——

Jeremiah carried the unconscious Alfonse out of Lama's cabin. He made extra sure to not smack his son's head against the door frame even though he deserved it a bit after the mess he caused. Lama went back into her cabin, not saying anything as they passed by each other. Granny was mad but she never stayed mad long. She would forgive them for the property damage after a certain amount of buttering up and lots of gifts. But Rodrig was different. Jeremiah didn't know Rodrig's whole story yet, but it was very easy to see the young man had lived a hard life. Rodrig did not hand out trust on a silver platter. It was earned and could be lost at a moment's notice.

Jeremiah placed Alfonse down on one of the two bedrolls. The two of them would be having a very serious conversation, but that would have to wait. He had a duty: Rodrig.

Jeremiah exited the tent. The guest cabin was dark. Rodrig shifted his eyes, the night becoming clearer. He walked over to the cabin, trying to stay quiet. Even before he reached the entrance, Jeremiah had a hunch Rodrig had left, his scent leading away from the camp. He still looked inside the cabin to make sure that he was wrong. There was no one in or under the beds and the closet was empty. So was the latrine. And Rodrig's bag was gone along with the food and the healing salve. Jeremiah gave a deep sigh and started following Rodrig's trail, grabbing a lantern and matchbox on his way out.

It was obvious Rodrig wasn't traveling very fast. The footprints zig zagged from left to right and eventually went off the trail out into the middle of the woods. Not surprising since he was a normal human traveling in nearly bitch black night. It only took a couple of minutes before Jeremiah could hear the labored breaths and grunts of a man trying to make his way through the woods at night with one bad foot.

When Jeremiah got closer. He made sure to clear his throat to announce his presence. Rodrig immediately pulled out what looked to be the butter knife they had used earlier that night. He looked around in the dark for the source of the noise, holding his knife in what would have been a defensive stance if it weren't for the fact that a butter knife was a terrible weapon even in the best of times. Against a werewolf, it was pointless unless it was silver. Which it was not.

“Who's there?" Rodrig said. “Stay back."

“It's Jeremiah. I've come to help. You've wandered off the path and are heading into the middle of nowhere. Thought you might like some help."

“Fuck you." Rodrig said. He was staring in Jeremiah's general direction but was waiving the butter knife around like he was warding some spirit away. “Ever since I've met you, I've been chased around twice. I was kicked out of the academy. I was tied up and stabbed. I'm not some fucking toy. Just get away from me!"

Jeremiah didn't answer right away, Rodrig's scream echoing in the forest. Instead he opened the lantern and used the matchbox to light the candle tucked away inside. The warm light grew until it covered both him and Rodrig. Now that Rodrig could see him, he pointed the knife in Jeremiah's direction. Jeremiah set the lantern down and stepped back.

“I brought you a lantern." Jeremiah offered. “Thought it might help."

“Oh, thank you so much. I forgive you for siccing another werewolf on me in the middle of the night." Rodrig said in a highly sarcastic tone.

“I did not ask Alfonse to attack you. That was a misunderstanding. I plan on having him issue a full apology."

“I don't want anything from him or you. I just want to be left alone!" Rodrig screamed. His face was masked in rage but tears streaked down his cheeks. Jeremiah could sense the fear from the past couple of days finally exploding out of Rodrig like a volcano. That past scare had been the last thing to tip him over the deep end.

“I can't do that, Rodrig. It's my duty to keep you safe."

“Well, you're doing a shit job of it." Rodrig said. He dropped the butter knife and grabbed the lamp. He then started walking away in the opposite direction of the road.

“The trail is the other way." Jeremiah said as he followed a couple of steps behind him.

“Fuck you." Rodrig called back as he adjusted his course.

Rodrig stomped through the forest, smashing the crutch into the ground and stomping his good foot with every step. At this rate, he would tire himself out before long. When they found the road again, he started walking towards the town. Jeremiah continued to follow but remained quiet. After about 20 minutes, they had only traveled to the very edge of town and Rodrig's rage had drained what little energy he had left. Rodrig turned around, his breath heavy. He was still crying but his rage had been replaced with misery.

“Stop following me." He said.

“I can't do that." Jeremiah said.

“What if I make you stop?" Rodrig said. It was meant to sound intimidating. In a way it was, in the way a desperate person at the end of their rope sounded before they did something counterproductive or self harming.

“How would you stop me?"

“I'll attack you. I'll beat you. I'll stab you. I'll do whatever I can to fuck you up." Rodrig said.

Jeremiah wasn't too afraid of Rodrig “fucking him up." His combat skills, as far as what he saw on the practice field, were not the best. But if he did try to attack Jeremiah, he would probably hurt himself.

“Unless your knife is silver, that isn't going to do much." Jeremiah said.

“I'll fucking show you!" Rodrig said, throwing his crutch at Jeremiah's. It landed halfway between them on the ground. Rodrig then started falling forward. Jeremiah rushed forward, catching Rodrig in one hand and grabbing the lantern with the other.

“Fuck you." Rodrig said. His voice was feeble, his body was exhausted. One hand hung to the side while the other hand was shakily gripping onto Jeremiah's bicep. His face was buried in Jeremiah's chest.

“I'm so sorry, Rodrig." Jeremiah whispered. “I swear to you, I'll make this right."

Jeremiah wasn't sure if Rodrig heard him. The young man passed out in his arms.

---

Alfonse was normally the responsible one. He was the oldest of Jeremiah's pack. He was the first Jeremiah ever turned into a wolf. Alfonse had to be the one to set a good example and protect everyone in the pack. So when a report was sent out via the magic journal that the watcher of Bright Rock had been forced to leave his post, the very city Jeremiah was supposed to be heading to, Alfonse panicked. He packed his things, told Lucian he was in charge, downed a booster and ran. The potion made it so he didn't need to sleep. Made it so he didn't feel tired. It also made his complex thinking go down the toilet. So when he finally caught his father's scent, he did something stupid. He assumed the worst. Assumed that the elevated heart rate of the stranger on the other side of the door, the one that smelled like his father, was hiding something.

When Alfonse awoke the next day, he was not where he had passed out. Instead he found himself awake in a familiar tent. It belonged to the man he now called father. That man was also sitting next to him. He was fully dressed and held two cups of coffee, one in each hand. He had that look that said Alfonse was in deep trouble. Usually that look was reserved for Lucin or Brodin. Alfonse was not used to being on the receiving end of it.

Jeremiah handed Alfonse one of the cups of coffee. Alfonse took it and took a sip. It cleared the fog in his brain and warmed his belly. Despite everything, he groaned in satisfaction before sitting up and downing the rest of it.

“Thank you." Alfonse said, setting the cup down in front of himself. Jeremiah hadn't drank any of his own cup yet. He still was staring at his adoptive son.

“I owe you an apology.." Alfonse said.

“Yes. You do." Jeremiah said. He was pissed. “For starters, you didn't trust me to finish the mission."

“I-“ Alfonse started to say but a quick glare told him it was best if he kept his mouth shut.

“So, you headed after me, damaged a watcher¡s property and scared the ever loving shit out of the person I was sent to protect? You're damn right you owe me some apologies. You owe everyone here quite a few and then some."

Alfonse kept his head lowered, knowing he deserved far worse than a tongue lashing. He heard Jeremiah finally take a sip of the coffee. It was followed by a frustrated grunt.

“Get dressed." Jeremiah said. “Everyone else is still asleep. With any luck, we can find some wood to repair the door enough that it will function while Granny gets another one ordered."

Alfonse didn't argue. It was still early morning and Jeremiah had found his travel pack. He got dressed. The door he had damaged was now leaning against the outside of the guest cabin and a blanket had been placed over the entrance to keep nature outside. The trip into town was quiet. As they headed down the path, Alfonse could smell the Sensitive's scent. There was an underlayer of panic to the smell. Panic he caused. The guilt that pushed against his chest was unbearable.

“May I ask what happened?" Alfonse asked. “Back in Bright Rock?"

Jeremiah sighed.

“The watcher was attacked. He survived but when I found him, he was in a really bad way. I helped him to a friend's house. He said he's going to abandon his post. I chastised him over it at the time but I get the feeling he'd be dead if he didn't."

“He did abandon his post." Alfonse said. “He announced it over the magic journal to everyone."

“Everyone?" Jeremiah hissed. “What did he say in his message?"

“He said that the Lord of Bright Rock was banning all supernatural beings from the city. Anything not strictly human would be killed on site."

“Fuck." Jeremiah said. A bit of his wolf came out with his rage, small bits of fur popping up on his cheeks and his teeth grew a bit sharper. Alfonse instinctively stepped pack, whining in submission. Jeremiah took a few deep breaths and pulled the wolf back.

“What about the Sensitive?." Alfonse asked. “What happened there?"

“I established contact like normal," Jeremiah said. “Found him at a bar drinking alone. He was a cadet at the guard's academy. No friends or family. The very next day I found the watcher had just been attacked. I knew at that moment we wouldn't be able to extract Rodrig normally."

“Is that his name? Rodrig"

“Yes. But before I could come up with a plan, the lord's son and an instructor at the academy were calling for me in the forest. They had bound and gagged Rodrig and were leading him like some prisoner of war. He had no idea why they were doing it. He was terrified. When I found them, they told me to take him and leave."

“Holy shit," Alfonse said. He could hardly believe how quickly things went south. He jumped forward and pressed himself against Jeremiah's back, wrapping his arm around his front and holding him close. Alfonse's head only reached Jeremiah's shoulder blades.

“I'm glad you're safe." Alfonse said. His eyes were watery with tears. Jeremiah placed his hands on top of Alfonse's and held them.

“I know." Jeremiah said.

“There's something else that happened that you're not telling me." Alfonse said. He didn't mean it accusingly. More as a statement of fact.

“I am." Rodrig said. “But it's not my business to share. It's Rodrig's."

---

Rodrig was 12. Johann was 10. Neither of the two brothers had any friends. So they were each other's friends. They both had the same hair, eyes and nose. Rodrig was just a bit taller because he was the older brother. During the morning, their mother tutored them along with their older sister, Anja. After that they got to play. Anja used to play with them too but mom said she needed her help around the house. So it was just them now. The slums could be a dangerous place, but Rodrig always took care of his brother. Usually that ended with Rodrig beating the shit out of the bullies that tried to make fun of his younger brother. Rodrig often came home with black eyes and bruised knuckles. Mother did not like that and would often send him to time out. It was worth it to protect Johann.

Father had a much harsher punishment if he found out Rodrig had been fighting. The belt against his bare ass would leave painful welts that bled. Rodrig wouldn't be able to sit for a long time after father's punishments.

One night, father came home smelling of booze. He wasn't looking where he was going and tripped over Johann. He grabbed Johann and started to hit him. Rodrig grabbed his father and tried to pull him off. That earned him a smack to the face. While Rodrig was still recovering, Mother had struck Father across the head. Rodrig thought his father was dead. He wasn't. He woke up the next day not remembering anything. Rodrig felt guilty because he had a terrible thought when his father lay on the ground stationary.

Please be dead.

—-

Rodrig awoke in a warm bed. His pillow was wet. It took him a minute to realize it was because of tears. He had cried in his sleep. He had cried more in the last 24 hours than in the past 2 years. He didn't like that. It made him feel weak. He vowed to not cry again. As he pushed himself up, he winced at the surge of pain in his ankle. He recalled the night before, all the pain and anger. Those feelings were replaced by a large numb feeling across his entire body.

He took a brief look to see where he was. It was the guest cabin at Lama's. The door had been cleared away and a blanket had been hung over the opening to keep the elements out. The sun peered through the windows, from the looks of the shadows, he had slept in late. He felt like he could sleep for another couple hours. Or forever.

“Are you decent?" The voice of Lama called from the other side of the blanket. “Big wolf said he could hear you waking up."

“One second." Rodrig said. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He saw a fresh one laying on the end table next to his bed. He grabbed it and threw it on. “Okay. Come in."

The blanket was pushed to the side and Lama came walking in. She was carrying a tray of what looked like oatmeal, milk and sugar. Rodrig's stomach grumbled.

“How are you feeling? Any sharp pain or agony?" Lama said as she set down the tray on the table.

“I feel tired and my ankle hurts worse than before."

“I'm not surprised." Lama said, “Come over and eat. Make sure to use the crutch. Don't put any weight on that leg."

Rodrig did as he was told. When he started moving, he felt stiff like one of the mornings after the academy had pushed the students extra hard. He sat opposite Lama. She pushed the tray his way and told him to eat. She also gave him a small shot glass of what looked to be a black liquid.

“That will help with the pain." Lama said, “But it tastes nasty. My recommendation, shoot it down in one gulp like hard liquor and then chase it with the milk to wash the taste away."

Rodrig did as he was told. Whatever fatigue he had was quickly washed away by the shivers that ran down his spine as he drank the oddly clumpy medicine. He downed the milk next. It did a good job to cancel out the flavor but the medicine felt like a lead brick in his stomach.

“Oh gods," Rodrig said as he tried not to throw up. “That was awful."

“I know," she said. “But I promise you that in about 10 minutes, the pain will be all gone. You still need to stay off that leg though. You made the sprain worse when you went stomping into the woods."

Rodrig wanted to say something. But his brain couldn't decide how to react. Was he mad at Jeremiah? Was he scared of the weird wolf who literally smashed a door open on him? Was he annoyed at the little old woman sitting next to him who made it sound like he had a temper tantrum and went into the woods to cool off? Or maybe he was all three. Maybe he was just so tired that he didn't have enough energy to dedicate to one emotion instead of all three.

“I don't know what to do." He found himself saying. “I'm so sick of feeling helpless."

Lama looked surprised. Then she reached over and placed her hand on his.

“Tell me," she said in almost a whisper. “Why do you feel helpless?"

“I….I shouldn't have said that." Rodrig was close to crying again. He pushed back at it. He was done crying. “Can we pretend like that didn't happen?"

“We can," she said. “But I find that our subconscious minds know when it's time to reach out for help." She squeezed his hand. He took a deep breath.

“Can I think about it?" Rodrig said. “I'm kinda hungry and the oatmeal smells really good."

She gave his hand one final squeeze before letting go.

“Sure." Was all she said.

Rodrig dumped the sugar into the oatmeal and started stirring. He very rarely got any extra fixings to put in his oatmeal at the academy. He made sure to savor every bite. The creamy oats mixed with the sugar were like candy to his sweet starved tongue. He found himself forgetting all his troubles for just a moment, a low hum escaped his lips. Then he remembered Lama was watching him and decided to eat more quietly.

“When you're done," Lame said. “We'll be taking you over to my cabin. I don't think you'll want to be around while the door is being replaced. Might get a bit noisy. I want you to spend some time relaxing after last night's high energy events."

Rodrig nodded along enjoying the oatmeal. Then it began to cross his mind who exactly was replacing the door. Jeremiah and his asshole son, whatever his name was. He suddenly felt his appetite slipping away but he forced himself to finish the rest. He didn't know when would be the next time he would eat and he might need the energy. By the time he was done, he felt that a feeling that he wished he felt more. That overly full feeling. And now he was ready to pass out again. He forced himself to stand up instead. He grabbed his crutch and let Lama lead him to what was once a door.

The light of the day felt overly bright. From the position of the sun, it looked to be just before noon. Rodrig couldn't remember the last time he slept that late. His father would beat him for sleeping in. Sleeping in at the academy was near impossible with the trumpets blaring at first light. When he was on the streets, sleeping in was just flat out dangerous. But with how tired he felt, he couldn't help but feel that sleeping in at least once was excusable. Especially since he still was exhausted.

“How can I still be so tired?" Rodrig asked.

“Your body is trying to recover from some pretty big traumas." Lama explained. “The human body was not meant to be in survival mode for so long. It makes sense that it is telling you to take a break."

They reached the stairs leading up to the porch of the main cabin. It was only 4 steps. It was the 4 worst steps of his life. While the pain had mostly gone away thanks to the medicine, his body still felt tired and he couldn't put any weight on his bad leg. The crutch helped but only marginally. The front door to the cabin was held open by Lama. She led him in. They entered a new room Rodrig hadn't seen before. In the corner was a bed where he assumed Lama slept. Next to it was a very large fluffy chair. She sat him down in the chair. It and the many pillows on it swallowed him whole. He barely noticed the blanket Lama put over him as he fell asleep again.

——

The two wolves returned with the material to repair the door. Lama was waiting outside on her porch in her rocking chair. A pitcher of lemonade was set out and she was sipping on a glass of the liquid herself. She gave them the stink eye. Alfonse looked away. Jeremiah headed over to her while Alfonse went to the guest cabin to get to work.

“How is Rodrig?" Jeremiah asked.

“Passed out in my room," She said. “He has a history of trauma right under the surface that he's been suppressing. I could sense it when we first met but the scare he had drew it out."

Lama had a special empathetic gift. She had yet to tell anyone how but it made her a great healer of both the body and the mind. She usually didn't share what she sensed though. Not unless she felt it was important.

“The watcher said he had no family. I would have asked him to dig up more info but that wasn't an option." Jeremiah said.

“You'll just have to find out the old fashioned way. Ask."

Alfonse started to walk over. He didn't meet either of their gazes.

“I should be done in about a half hour." Alfonse said. He faced Lama, keeping his gaze down before bowing forward slightly. “I apologize for my stupid behavior. I have no excuse and do whatever I can to make it right."

“The door is not what I'm most worried about." Lama said. “The real damage was to your master's charge."

“I know, ma'am." Alfonse said.

“Drink some lemonade before you get to work. It's important to stay hydrated."

Both Jeremiah and Alfonse poured themselves a glass and took a drink. Then they got to work.

—

Rodrig was startled awake by the sound of hammering. He sat up, quickly looking side to side for the cause. The sudden pain from moving his ankle too quickly brought him back to reality. He grunted as he held himself until the pain stopped. The hammering happened again. It sounded like it came from outside. Rodrig tried to take a deep breath to steady his nerves as the logical part of his brain recognized that the sound was not an attack from an enemy. Just some repairs. Repairs from a very unfortunate night.

“Goddamn it." Rodrig said as he forced himself up. His hands were shaking as he tried to handle the crutch and his breathing wouldn't slow down. He just needed to get away from the hammering he told himself.

“I'm not freaking out," Rodrig lied to himself. “I'm just annoyed,"

He left the bedroom and looked around the room. There was a back door in the kitchen area. He slipped in and out the door, leading him to some stairs that lead to a tiny garden. Like the rest of the property, it was compact but well organized. Beautiful despite not taking up much room. The nearby hammering could still be heard however and every strike made his pulse jump. He started to make his way into the woods. Eventually the hammering quieted. He went even further into the woods and it all but stopped. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the forest flow by. He could feel himself become centered again. Then he got hit by a wave of dizziness.

Despite all the sleep, Rodrig still felt exhausted. He leaned against a nearby tree to steady himself. He used the tree to slowly lower himself to the ground. He only meant to close his eyes for a couple of seconds. As his vision swam, he looked out into the forest. He felt like he could see something moving between the trees. Some sort of black shadow. But the dizziness kept him from concentrating on finding out what it was.

“Rodrig?"

Rodrig jerked awake. Jeremiah was kneeling by him. The sun was now further west. He yawned and stretched.

“Did I fall asleep?" Rodrig said.

“I think so. Gave me and Granny a bit of a fright when you were suddenly gone though." Jeremiah said.

“Sorry." Rodrig said, still half asleep. “Hammering was bothering me. I only meant to be gone for a minute."

“It's okay. As long as you're safe." Jeremiah said. “Here, let me help you up." Jeremiah offered his hand. Rodrig grabbed it and the man effortlessly pulled him to a standing position. They started making their way back to the cabins, their movement's slow on account of Rodrig having to hobble on a crutch.

“So Alfonse would like to apologize to you." Jeremiah said.

“Who's Alfonse?" Rodrig said, yawning again.

“He's my son. You met him last night." Jeremiah said.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up. He didn't remember meeting anyone new. Then his brain recalled having the shit scared out of him and stopped. All the panic from before kicked in and he started to shake again.

“Rodrig." Jeremiah said, standing in front of him so they were face to face. “It's okay, you're safe. No one is going to hurt you. I swear, this is all some misunderstanding."

Jeremiah held out his hand, placing it on Rodrig's shoulder. Rodrig felt a sort of energy flow into him. It pushed at his anxiety, trying to suppress it.

Rodrig remembered that feeling from before. That night at the bar when he first met Jeremiah. He was ready to leave. But something pulled at him, made him stay even though his instinct was to leave. A rage filled him, pushing back at the energy that was trying to relax him. Rodric pushed Jeremiah back.

“Stop that!" Rodrig screamed. “Stop using you're weird fucking magic on me!"

Jeremiah flinched from the sudden outburst. He held out his hands in front of him and crouched low so that his face was at the same level as Rodric's.

“Okay, I won't use my gift anymore." Jeremiah said. “I just thought it would help to calm you down. You're having a panic attack."

“Well you're making it worse." Rodrig said. “Don't ever use it on me again."

“Okay, I promise I won't use it anymore." Jeremiah said. “Is there anything else that would make you feel better?"

A lot of things passed through Rodrig's head, all of them more extreme than the last. He wanted to beat his father for kicking him out of the family home at 16. He wanted to tie up his old instructor and drag him through the woods, see how he liked it. He wanted to beat the ever loving shit out of Jeremiah's son. He wanted to scream at Jeremiah. He wanted to bury his face in that damn hairy chest and beat his palms against his chest. He wanted to cut off his dick so he could stop having these damn thoughts about being with other men.

Rodrig held himself, his breath quick and uncontrolled. He leaned against a nearby tree. The feel of the bark against his back calmed him a bit. He looked up at Jeremiah and he felt his normal filters falling away.

“I would like to never see your asshole son again.." Rodrig said.

“That's going to be hard because he's going to be traveling with us." Jeremiah said.

“No! No, no, no." Rodrig started to repeat. This went on for about twenty seconds. “And what if he goes crazy again, huh?"

“He won't, last night there was a huge misunderstanding. I swear to you, he's normally very calm."

“Then why?" Rodrig said. “Why did he suddenly show up in the middle of the night? Why did he start freaking out and tearing down the door? Why couldn't he have just left me the fuck alone?"

“He was scared. He heard about what happened back at Bright Rock and he panicked." Jeremiah said. His voice was calm and slow. “There was a report that went out about what happened at Bright Rock. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to scare you but there was more going on then what happened to you. One of our watchers was attacked too." Jeremiah began to explain. “A report was sent and my son panicked. He ran for two straight days trying to catch up to me."

Jeremiah's eyes were pleading with Rodrig, begging him to listen. Rodrig looked away, but he wasn't saying either. Jeremiah took that as permission to continue.

“He wasn't in his right frame of mind. He had taken a stimulant to keep himself awake for two days straight. His mind was warped and when he smelled me on you, he assumed the worst. I'm not saying what he did wasn't stupid beyond belief. But I also know that he's a good man and I think that if you had met under different circumstances, you would actually get along really well."

“So what? That's it? He's a nice guy and I should just forgive him."

“No, you shouldn't just forgive him. But you should also be mad at me too."

This disarmed Rodrig a bit. He wasn't expecting Jeremiah to agree with him or to implicate himself. Before Rodrig could think of a response, Jeremiah continued.

“I should have known that my family would hear of what happened and get worried. I could have sent some sort of message back to them so they knew I was safe. But I got too caught up in the present moment and wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry."

Jeremiah bowed his head low towards Rodrig.

Rodrig was frozen. He had never had someone apologize to him before. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He was still furious. But the apology has taken the metaphorical winds out of his rage sail.

“Sorry doesn't make what I'm feeling go away." Rodrig said. He was close to sobbing, tears already running down his cheek."

“No," Jeremiah said. “They usually don't. But you have a right to that anger. I didn't do right by you. I've kept things from you in what I thought was an attempt to protect you. I'm now realizing it was just because it was easier for me. I'll tell you everything I can. I'll answer any question I can. But I need to get you back to the cabin for now, I need to send an update to my family and my organization like I should have done from the beginning."

Rodrig nodded, unable to say anything because all of his rage had left him and was now replaced with an overwhelming exhaustion. He covered his face as he began to ball like a baby. His legs felt heavy so he leaned against a tree as he tried to regain control. A warmth suddenly enveloped him. He could feel Jeremiah holding him.

“It's okay to cry." Jeremiah said. “You don't need to keep your emotions bottled up. Just let it out."

Rodrig let go and began to scream into Jeremiah's chest in great sobs.