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“...and may Mother Myrrah welcome our fallen brother into her waiting arms.”

Father MacDonald reached down and set the pyre alight, sending brother Finn’s soul free of his earthly remains. Thus concluded Finn’s funeral. It’s a sad day when we must bid farewell to one of our own. And Finn was not the first that year. The sickly sweet smell of his burning remains was a familiar one. A painful reminder of all who gave their lives in service to not only our goddess, but to our town.

Sadly, I did not have time to mourn his loss. As I stood there, watery eyed and with my throat tight, Father MacDonald came up and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready to begin preparations for tonight, my child?” I could hear the sorrow in his voice. He too felt the pain of Finn’s loss. But our duty must come first.

Wiping my eyes, I turned to face him. He was a frail old man. A shock of gray hair on his pale head. Tired, weary eyes spied out from behind his glasses. And yet, despite all the man had seen in his long life, he had pronounced laugh lines.

Hesitantly, I responded, “Must we really do this tonight, Father? We only just sent Finn’s soul off.”

“I’m afraid it must be tonight,” he quietly answered. “The full moon shall be high in the sky, and we have a waiting member to welcome into our fold.” He gave my shoulder a slight squeeze then departed, heading inside the church.

As much as I wished to remain outside and continue grieving, I knew the father was right. We had work to do. Clearing my head, I followed after him inside the church. It was a rather simple stone design with a large domed roof. Off to the side sat a small tower, and housed within was the sturdy old bell. It was rung on special occasions, and that morning it was used to signal Finn’s funeral. The deep clang of the bell sounded almost melancholic, as if the church itself was mourning. At the front of the church were two wooden doors. Old and worn, they showed clear signs of their age.

Once within the building, I was greeted by Roderick, sitting down in one of the pews, praying to our Mother. He was tall, broad shouldered, and covered in coarse brown fur. His muzzle stuck out prominently, with a pinkish nose on the tip. Large, claw tipped hands were clasped together in prayer, his eyes closed in peaceful thought. Roderick was among the first I helped perform the ceremony for. And that night, he would play a pivotal role in another’s ceremony.

Not wishing to disturb his prayers, I walked past, making my way to the altar where Father MacDonald awaited. As I moved near Roderick, I noticed his pointed ears swiveled to follow my footsteps. It almost made me chuckle. Once at the altar, I watched as the father reached underneath the altar and took out a golden chalice. The sides were etched in ornate patterns. Next, the father took out a sheer white cloth and began to clean the chalice, wiping it clear of any dust or debris it had gathered while beneath the altar. While busying himself with the cleaning, he motioned for me to do my part. Following his example, I reached down and took out a small dagger. This was a key part of the night’s ceremony.

I inspected the blade for any knicks or marks of dullness. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I then reached inside my robes and produced a bottle of blessed water. Next, a bowl from a small table beside the altar. The water went into the bowl, then the blade was placed inside. I said a short prayer to bless the dagger, then removed it from the water.

To my side, the father was done cleaning the chalice, so he handed the cloth to me. Using it to soak up any remaining water on the blade, I then placed the cloth back under the altar, while the dagger was placed on top, next to the chalice. Our preparations completed, Father MacDonald cleared his throat, apparently alerting Roderick to stand.

A sad smile adorned the wolf’s face. Likely his thoughts were still full of Finn. The two were good friends, after all. He calmly walked over and knelt down in front the altar. Father MacDonald came to stand before him, placing a hand on the wolf’s head. “By Myrrah’s grace, you have been chosen to be the forebear for tonight’s ceremony. Do you accept your position, my son?”

Without skipping a beat, Roderick responded, “Yes Father. I answer the call.”

“By your blood, you shall bring new life to another. As such, you shall be responsible for their training in the ways of the wolf. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“Indeed. I welcome the chance to serve Myrrah in this way.”

Father MacDonald then lifted his hand and made a small circular movement with both hands. “Then go, my child. Cleanse your body and your mind to prepare for tonight. When the moon shines, return and we may begin the ceremony.”

With this small part done, Roderick left the church silently. In truth, I almost wished he had turned down the call. As heretical as it sounds, I did not want the night’s ceremony to take place.

It was much later, after the sun had set, when things were to begin. Finally, the hour was upon us. The full moon was high in the sky as the father and I waited inside the church. The old wooden doors opened, presenting tonight’s participator. A young woman with short black hair and dull green eyes. She was a woman I knew all too well. We were childhood sweethearts. And when she told me she wished to become one with the blood of the wolf, I begged her not to.

It pained me to fight her on her decision. I was afraid I’d lose her. By partaking of the wolf blood, she would be charged with the duty to protect Blackthorne from any and all threats. This would put her in the same danger that resulted in the loss of Finn and several others. Still, she was determined to stand and protect the innocent. I could not sway her mind.

Father MacDonald’s face lit up in a smile. “Ah, Victoria. I am glad to see you, my dear. Are you ready for the ceremony?”

With a fire behind her eyes, Victoria nodded. “I am more than ready for this, Father. I wish to do my duty and keep Blackthorne and her people safe.” She then turned to me. I could feel an argument forming in my throat, but she stopped it by placing a soft hand on my cheek. “I know you do not want me to go through with this. I know. But, I want to help everyone. And with the loss of Finn, we need someone to take his place, right?” She rubbed her thumb against my cheek and leaned in to kiss me. “I promise, nothing between us will change.”

“But I…” I started, but was interrupted when the church doors opened once again. Roderick made his entrance. He looked over at the two of us with a look of sadness in his stormy eyes. He was Victoria’s younger brother, and like myself, did not wish for her to go through with this. Taking a deep breath, he came to stand beside the father.

“Now then,” the priest started, “with all of us here, we shall begin.” Victoria left my side and knelt down before the father. “Victoria, before we begin, I must ask one final time. Are you prepared to partake of the blood? Once the ceremony begins, there is no going back.”

She looked over to me for a brief second before staring up at the priest. “I understand and accept the consequences. I am ready.”

Father MacDonald then took the dagger and chalice from atop the altar and turned to face Roderick. “My son, please, extend your arm.” When he did, the father then held the chalice beneath Roderick’s arm and make a small cut, allowing the blood to drain into the cup. It only filled a small amount of the chalice, but it was more than enough.

“By Myrrah’s grace, and the offering of blood,” stated the old man, “may our sister join the ranks of the wolves and become a guardian of this fair town.” Handing the chalice to Victoria, she took it and drank what little blood was within. There was now no turning back. Roderick moved to be at my side. A sympathetic look was all he offered, but I appreciated it all the same. He had a small yellow cloth held against his new wound, keeping the blood from spilling.

Just then, Victoria let out a scream of pain. The ceremony was truly beginning, the change taking hold. My heart hammered in my chest, hearing her cries of agony. I could see her body rippling in pain, shuddering, writhing. Her body was reshaping itself, and it was not a pleasurable experience. Bones broke and healed themselves into new shapes, muscles stretched, skin tore. Her jaw extended outward, teeth elongating and sharpening. Legs, once thin and smooth to the touch, began to form anew, taking the shape of a canine’s. Nails lengthened and curled. Her spine snapped and shifted, stretching out to form the base of a tail. Thick black hair began to sprout as her body changed.

Throughout all of this, she gave off sounds of agonized torture. My heart demanded me to go to her side and do whatever possible to ease the pain, but I knew there was nothing to be done about it. Roderick was still at my side and he whimpered. Seeing his sister in pain was doing just as much harm to his spirit as it was mine. His change was no different, though. We all knew this was a necessary part of the ceremony.

It took nearly an hour for the changes to finish. When the last of her spasms had subsided, Victoria was left a changed woman. No longer a normal woman. She was a hybrid of man and beast, much like her brother before her. In fact, she looked almost identical to Roderick, save for her black fur and slightly slimmer physique. Even after the changes were finished, it took Victoria an additional few minutes to finally stop moaning in pain and sit up.

She took a look at her new form and let out a bark of triumph. “I knew I could handle it!” She then jumped up, but fell down upon taking a step forward. It would take some time before she would be used to her body.

Father MacDonald smiled down at Victoria and placed a hand on her head. “Congratulations, my dear. You have completed your transition and are now a new woman.” He looked at me and Roderick before finishing, “I shall leave the three of you to discuss your personal matters.” With that, he left to the back room, giving us some privacy.

Roderick was the first to speak. “How do you feel?”

Once more Victoria stood up. This time, however, she did not fall over. With shaky steps, she walked over to us. Each step was carefully planned. Once in front of us, she looked up and smiled. “I feel fine. My legs kinda feel tingly, but otherwise, I’m great.”

“Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?” her brother asked.

The wolfess shook her head. Despite her claims, she eased herself to the ground before she could fall again. I knelt beside her and grabbed her hand. Once soft hands were now padded and rough, fur surrounding it all. Victoria could sense my feelings and squeezed my hand tight before leaning her head against my shoulder.

Roderick shuffled his feet. He seemed a bit embarrassed to see an intimate moment between us like this. He coughed out, “I’ll see you at home, sis,” before turning tail and leaving.

After his departure, Victoria shifted and stared into my eyes. Hers were still the same dull green I was so used to seeing. She grabbed my chin in her free hand and kissed me once again. “I told you, nothing will change between us. I still love you, Richter.”

Even beneath the new body and all the fur, Victoria was still the same woman who made my heart swell. Searching her eyes, I realized this fact. “And I still love you,” I said, giving her another soft kiss in return.

With a smile, I stood up and offered my hand. When her gaze turned up to follow me, I said, “How about I walk you home?”

My now fuzzy lover happily took the assistance. Knees still shaky, she stood up slowly. Now that she was so close, I noticed just how much had changed. For one, she’d grown considerably taller. Before, she had been a small woman, barely reaching up to the bottom of my chin. But, with her as one of the wolves, things were reversed. She draped a long arm over my shoulders and leaned into me. She’d gotten heavier, as well. Certainly not to the point where I’d mention it aloud, but it was a noticeable difference.

From the corner of my eye, I could spy the old father peeking through his door. Perhaps he was worried about my reaction, likely concerned how her new form would affect me. I must admit, I felt a bit upset he’d think so low of me. Especially in regards to how I still consider all the other wolves such good friends. By Myrrah’s light, I helped turn Roderick.

A mixture of anger and pride rushed into my head, but I knew deep down the man simply was making sure all was well. He’d told me stories of former lovers, even spouses, who would turn against one another after one would make the change. I assumed he didn’t want to see more pain like that.

With Victoria heavy against my side, we left the church, opening the doors out to the cool autumn night. Myrrah’s eye cast its pale light on the world below. A calm breeze picked up fallen leaves off the road and danced with them. Not much happened in Blackthorne this late at night. The lone person stumbling from the tavern here, a child who’d snuck out of bed there. All in all, quiet nights were plentiful. We have the wolves to thank for that.

With careful steps, I walked Victoria down the road to her home. I’d taken this trip countless times over the years, so I knew my way so clearly to the point where I’d probably be able to get there blind. Victoria made a few sounds of discomfort every now and again, but she assured me that it was just some latent soreness from her change. I recalled helping her brother walk this same path a few years back. He also complained of aches and sores.

As we passed by Old Red’s place, his door opened. Out walked the blacksmith himself, still dressed in his apron and gloves. Seeing us, he waved and headed over.

He gave us both a once over before saying, “Looks like the ceremony went well.”

The wolf at my side let out a soft laugh. “I’d be more concerned if it didn’t.”

“Well,” Red mumbled, “I’m just glad it worked out. After losing Finn, I was wondering if any of the young folk even had it in them to take his place.”

He wasn’t joking. Many of the younger people in town were offered the chance to be part of the wolves, and all but Victoria declined almost immediately. It seemed they all thought it was too soon to make a new wolf. By the time Victoria accepted the offer, the good father was losing hope anyone would take up the mantle.

“She hasn’t taken his spot yet,” I pointed out. “Still needs training, after all.”

A sharp claw poked my side as the wolf let out a scoff. Red laughed and walked to his forge, right on the side of his house. Red was the smith not only for Blackthorne, but for the wolves specifically. He made their weapons. He created armor to suit their bodies. Despite being as old as Father MacDonald, Red was still as spry and strong as a man half his age. Certainly, that came in handy when working the forge. He’d yet to take on an apprentice, which worried many townsfolk. If Red passed without handing his knowledge on to another, what would become of the wolves and their equipment?

The old man fired up his forge and began work on a sword. Silver. Perfect material for demon hunting. A material said to be blessed by Myrrah herself, given to her children as a sign of her protection. With their silver arms, the wolves made swift work of any demon that dared show their faces anywhere near Blackthorne.

Victoria tugged at my side. “Come on,” she urged.

With hastened steps, she tugged me along towards her home. A simple affair. Wood and stone. From the chimney rose small puffs of smoke. A light could be seen from the windows. Roderick must have woken his parents up, and all three were waiting for Victoria to return.

Taking a deep breath, Victoria made her way inside, leaving my side and doing her best not to limp or show any signs of her pain. Upon her entrance, her mother flung herself upon her daughter, crushing her in a tight embrace. Despite towering over her mother now, Victoria relented and accepted the too tight hug.

“Oh, my baby. I was so worried. You’re not still in pain, are you? Let mama cook you a warm meal.”

As mother assaulted daughter with questions and offers of food, father made his way to me. He was a tall man, nearly as tall as Roderick was now. His giant size cast an intimidating figure wherever he went.

Arms folded over his chest, he stepped in front of me, leaned in, and patted me on the back.

“Good to know our future son-in-law made sure the ceremony went without a hitch,” the large man boasted in his booming voice.

Mother scoffed. “Of course he’d take care of our little girl. He took care of Roderick’s change, too.”

“I don’t mean nothing by it,” he replied, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Just saying I’m glad he was there.”

With a roll of her eyes, Victoria detached herself from her mother and walked over, hugging her father. Even with her strength drained, she still managed to squeeze the man tight enough for his face to briefly flash with discomfort. When they separated, he gave a small smile.

The wolfess then walked over to me, whereupon she embraced me one final time before heading off to bed. Before leaving, however, she leaned in and whispered, “See you in the morning.”

With the knowledge she was safe in bed, I made my goodbyes and left for my own home. Pushing the worn wooden doors open, I was once more embraced by the cool breeze. The walk to my home was uneventful. I spent the short time contemplating the new change of my lover’s body. On the one hand, Victoria was a beautiful woman. Lithe, supple, long wavy hair, a smoldering stare during those nights we spent together. This new form would take some getting used to, even if I had been around the wolf-blooded folk since before I could even walk.

It’s not that I disliked the wolves. It’s just that I never really saw them as sexual. With Victoria’s change, my mind now naturally filled with just how the two of us would even approach our relationship. Of course, I loved her. That didn’t change. No amount of fur or claws would make me see her as anything other than the woman I’ve known and loved my entire life.

With each passing distracting thought, I failed to notice my feet taking me right up to, and knocking my face against, the door to my home. The resounding noise alerted the person situated inside, and the door opened, greeting me to a slightly chubby woman with golden hair tied into a braid. She wore a soft smile as she looked at me, and wordlessly pulled me inside. Once inside, she grabbed my face and pulled me down, examining my features.

“Uh, mum, what are you doing?” I questioned, though with her hands on my cheeks, it came out a bit muffled.

Huffing, she said, “You hit your face again. Last time you did that, your nose bled for nearly half an hour.”

Pushing her away, I then fixed myself, giving my nose a small tweak to make sure everything was fine. “See, I’m fine. No blood.”

Her hand reached out and patted my cheek. “You need to pay more attention to where you’re going, sweetie. Next time, it might not just be a door.”

Turning on her heels, she walked further into the house, beckoning me to follow. We walked into the den, whereupon she sat down at the small table. Our home was a cozy little place. Warm. Lived-in, one might call it. Nothing much about it had changed since my childhood. Same wooden furniture. Same old fireplace. Same smell, even. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So,” mum spoke up, “I take it Victoria’s change went well?”

“Same as any other,” was my response.

A small sigh escaped her lips. “And when am I to expect to hear bells and see some little ‘uns running about?”

“Mum!”

She burst out laughing. A true belly laugh, loud and infectious. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop the bubble of a laugh to come out of me. When we finally settled down, she just picked up a small woodchip and tossed it at my head.

“You’re too easy. Your father would never have fallen for that one.” I sat down beside her and shook my head. She always loved making jokes like that. But every time, I never saw through them. She would just put on this face and made it seem so serious, that when she finally laughs about it, I have no choice but to fall in line and laugh with her.

Her hand moved over and squeezed mine. “But really, sweetie. Everything went well, right?”

Nodding, I said, “Of course. With Father MacDonald handling the ceremony, how could things ever go wrong?”

A short frown marred her face, but was quickly replaced by her usual smile. “Just making sure, is all. A good mother’s gotta worry for the safety of her daughter-in-law, too.”

Rolling my eyes, I gave her cheek a quick peck and headed off to bed.

~~~~

Unfortunately, I would not see Victoria in the morning, as her training began right away, and I was not allowed to attend. The wolves prefer new recruits be trained in private, away from distractions. I did catch a glimpse of her leaving her house when I was on my way to the church, but before I could head her way, Roderick ushered her off towards the woods. I would not be able to see her for the next few weeks.

Sadly, those next few weeks were not very interesting. I would spend my mornings with Father MacDonald doing our typical sermons. Most days, we’d begin simple, the father welcoming the townsfolk and saying a simple prayer for Myrrah to guide us all on our paths. Once the prayer was said, Father MacDonald would then read from the holy texts and recite the word of our Mother. On some days, I would be tasked to take over. The father’s way of preparing me to eventually become a full-fledged priest.

My evenings were spent walking the streets of Blackthorne. I’d enjoy seeing the sights, even if I’d seen them every day since I was born. There’s always something new to see, if you look close enough. For instance, one day I noticed a girl from one of the merchant caravans slyly leaving the local tailor’s home. He was always in good standing with the caravans who came through Blackthorne. And apparently, he was in very good standing with this one.

Another day, I spied some local children trying to convince their parents to let them keep a rabbit they found. The poor thing looked hurt, and the children had done what they could to treat its wound, feeding and even bathing it. When they tried to release it, it just followed them home. Their father didn’t seem to mind having a pet.

And still another day, I decided to peruse one of the caravans’ wagons. This caravan in particular was selling wares from up north. It was mostly hides and fur outfits perfect for dealing with the snow the northerners have to contend with. I didn’t have the heart to tell them winter was a mystery this far south.

Blackthorne was a large and old place. Because of this, most of the buildings and homes were not very extravagant. From the common shop all the way to the church, nothing really stood out too much. Simple designs they were, but everything had a nice warm feeling to it. To a foreigner, they would likely feel lost in the streets of such similar looking buildings. And indeed, many times when a caravan was in town, you’d see a few members wandering about, scratching their heads as they double and triple checked their surroundings.

Surrounding Blackthorne was a great stone wall. Built to ward out demons, it served its purpose dutifully. Spaced evenly apart atop the wall were some guard towers, from which our beastial protectors spied for any shred of demonic presence. There were only two gates leading out of town, one to the north, the other to the south.

It was on one of my walkabouts where I decided to head inside the tavern. Like most of Blackthorne, it was an old building, made mostly of dark wood, with some stonework for compliment. The tavern itself was never a very bustling place, but it saw its fair share of customers. The majority of its, as well as most of Blackthorne’s shops’, business was whenever the trade caravans came through. Every other week, a caravan would make its way into town and our fine little home would become a bit crowded. Of course, with the extra people came heightened security, which meant the wolves would be tasked to oversee the caravans’ trades and examine their wagons.

I recall one time, back before I apprenticed to Father MacDonald, when a strange man had come to town with a small lineup of wagons, selling bizarre treasures he claimed hailed from the other side of the world. The wolves almost immediately attacked. The so-called “treasures” turned out to be odd little amulets designed to act as a signal of sorts for demons. In essence, anyone who wore the jewelry would become a target. After the traders were ran off, our town’s guardians rounded up any of their wares still left and destroyed them, then melted down the remains, reforging them into an idol of Myrrah herself which the good Father MacDonald blessed.

I walked into the old tavern, greeted by the wonderful scent of cooking meats and freshly baked breads. It was a smell that always made me happy, and that day, it even helped alleviate my current sadness over not being able to spend time with Victoria. Inside the tavern, I took a quick look around. Large solid wood columns ran the length of the building, twelve in total, six on either side. Between the columns was a long table, where a handful of people sat enjoying meal or drink. Some may think it strange to have one single table for the whole of the tavern, but the husband and wife duo who ran the place claimed it was to help people feel closer to each other, sharing one dining place as one family. Several regulars could be seen that day, such as Ol’ Red on his afternoon break, Graham cooling off after a long morning in the fields, and the twins Eliza and Edmund passing time with a card game.

I took an open spot a few seats left of Graham. Good man he is, but after spending all morning in the fields, he smelled positively awful. No amount of bread and meat could mask his musk. I never understood why he refused to bathe before coming to the tavern. Even so, he was a very kind soul, always willing to lend a hand to anyone who asked.

After I sat down, the rusty haired man turned to me, offering a great big smile. “Afternoon, Richter. How’s this fine day find you?” His voice was slightly higher pitched than one would expect of a hard working farmer. It made him sound young.

Returning his smile, I responded with, “Same old, same old. Not much to do lately, though.”

“‘Not much to do’, eh?” he said with a small snicker. “I see you’re missing spending time with that lass Victoria.”

I grumbled out an unkind phrase about him and a pig’s rear and where he could stick his obnoxious self, which only caused the man’s snickering to become a full on laugh. Ignoring him, I waved to the owners, signaling I was ready for a meal. Most days, my usual dish consisted of minced beef and potatoes with a side of freshly baked bread and a cup of mead to wash it all down. Simple and cheap, but delicious.

As I was enjoying my meal, my mind wandered back to Victoria. We’d never really spent a lot of time apart before like this. A few days, maybe a week at most, but it’d been almost a month since her training began. On one hand, I wasn’t against finding things to do in my free time without her. It’s not like she’s the only person in my life. By Myrrah’s light, just the other day, I decided to join a small group and played an entire night of card games. There may have been some minor gambling going on between us, but of course as an upstanding priest-to-be, I would never partake of such vices.

On the other hand, I did miss her. The feeling of her soft hands in mine. The sound of her warm laughter at some inane comment I’d made. That subtle scent of honeysuckle she adds to her bathwater. I began to wonder again on the differences her new form would make in our lives going forward. Her hands were now rough, and it wouldn’t be the same to feel them caress down my body during passionate nights. A smiling face is now replaced by a muzzle of sharp teeth. Her soft skin now covered by so much hair. Then again, her fur was surprisingly soft when I touched it. And my own bed’s furs are so warm during the cool autumn nights, I have to imagine her body would be even more so. Having her huddled against me would be like draping myself in a blanket.

A crash drove my mind back the present. Edmund and Eliza. Their card game got heated when Edmund caught his wolf blooded sister hiding extra cards in her sleeve. And he just put down a bet of fifty crowns. The crash was a result of the man throwing his plate of half finished food down on the floor, shattering it to pieces, the meat and potatoes sent flying. The two were now throwing insults at one another, their voices growing louder with each disparaging word. The tavern owners were doing their best to try to get the twins to calm down, but they were being ignored.

Just then, the tavern door opened, and in walked a tall, silver colored wolf. His eyes narrowed at the fighting twins as he walked calmly up to them. When the two failed to acknowledge him, he barked out at them. “That’s enough!” he shouted. The pair fell silent. Everyone fell silent. The large wolf then knelt down and began to pick up the pieces of the shattered plate, giving the twins an order of, “Clean up the food.” Without a word of protest, the two followed their instructions.

This large beast was none other than Mikhael, the oldest of the hunters. While the group itself does not have an actual leader, in a way everyone looked to Mikhael as if he was. I suppose it makes the most sense, as he has seniority. His years of experience lead to a vast knowledge on how best to prepare for and deal with any kind of demonic influence. It was his intensive training regimine that set the standard for how all future recruits would be handled. And of course, he is the one who typically schedules guard shifts and the like. So, while not an official leader, he may as well be.

After cleaning up the mess, the silver furred man stared down the twins and gave them another order, “Apologize.” The pair swiftly made work owning up for their behavior and asking the owners if there was anything else they could do to make up for how they acted. A small smile lit up Mikhael’s face so briefly, I almost thought I had imagined it.

After the twins made a hasty retreat from the tavern, Mikhael made his way over to me, taking the seat opposite mine. The two of us rarely interacted. The majority of our interactions involved him reporting on any demons the wolves killed recently. So, it was a bit odd for him to want to talk to me outside of our professional courtesies. The man reached inside his shirt pocket and produced an envelope, and I noticed it had already been opened.

“Trouble,” he said, handing the paper over.

It read as follows:

“Father MacDonald, I regret to inform you there is a rumor of a sorcerer in your neighbor Val. We’ve received word about a certain young man behaving rather strangely as of late, going out late at night, spending hours on end doing who knows what. When a local guardsman happened upon the boy during his nightly patrol, the guard saw him heading towards the nearby forest. Please, send out some of your hunters to do a thorough investigation. Purify the forest, if need be. Subdue the suspected sorcerer and bring him to justice if these rumors prove true. Your friend, Bishop Crowley.”

Putting the note down, I gave Mikhael a quizzical look. “What do you mean trouble? Sounds to me like this is a young sorcerer. Probably only recently made a pact with a demon. Bet his soul hasn’t even had time to darken yet.” Picking up my fork, I decided to continue my meal. Whatever the case may be, this sorcerer didn’t sound like a serious threat. They were just a child, after all.

A furry hand smacked down on mine sharply. Mikhael’s narrowed eyes burned hot as he spoke, “Do not underestimate a sorcerer. ” As I rubbed the spot he hit, he then continued with, “Because you seem so confident, why don’t you join the investigation? I’m sure someone like you could get it done in just a minute or two, eh?”

This made me raise an eyebrow. “You know, if you want me to be part of the investigation, you just have to ask.” I attempted to resume eating once more.

Once again, a sharp strike on my hand. “I’m gonna make this simple,” said the large wolf. “You, Eliza, and Lucian are going to Val immediately. Get anything you need and move out.” After that, he promptly left the tavern, taking my plate with him. I was left with the letter, a sore hand and an empty stomach.

~~~~

Approximately eleven miles east of Blackthorne lies the small town of Val. A quiet place, full of quiet people, it rarely popped up in conversations. Most travelers tend to just pass right through without stopping. After all, Val had no real sights to see. There were no sprawling streets full of shops and homes, no caravan routes passing directly through, not even a church. And unlike Blackthorne, there was no protective wall surrounding the place. This was mainly due to the fact that demons avoided the town for reasons no one could explain. Some say it’s because the town was where Mother Myrrah first set foot in the mortal world, but this is merely speculation.

My partners for the job at hand were Eliza and Lucian, as Mikhael had ordered. Like myself, Eliza was here as a punishment of sorts, a way to make up for her actions in the tavern. Lucian, on the other hand, volunteered. This wiry limbed, shaggy brown wolf had gone on several demon hunting jobs since his change. Before partaking the wolf blood, he worked with his father making and repairing shoes. Why he joined the hunters remained a mystery to me. He never told me before, and I respected his privacy to not push the issue.

Leaving from the southern gate of Blackthorne, it would take around two hours to get to Val by horse-drawn wagon. Before we left, I made sure to put on my stole. It was a long red cloth lined with gold, a symbol of my being a man of the faith. It also came in handy when performing certain miracles and prayers. With my appearance all set, I was ready to ride to Val. Unfortunately for me, I had to take the reigns, as my two wolfish companions were too large to fit the driving seat.

Our ride was silent, save for the wind and the sound of hooves hitting the dirt road. It gave me time to appreciate the sights. Some of the yellow and orange leaves were missing from their trees. While the southlands did not have a winter, so to speak, the plants did not seem to think the same. Trees lost their leaves, flowers wilted, shrubs would shrink. The only thing we lacked was the freezing winds, not that I would ever beg for them. I was more than happy to enjoy the nice cool air as it was.

By the time we stopped in Val, the sun had descended in the sky, painting the world in a beautiful swirl of gold and crimson. My wolf blooded friends jumped off the wagon before I could find some place to keep the horse tied up. They had dressed themselves in their leather armors, hardened and tanned to strengthen them for battle, and tied firmly at hip were their silver blades. The two rushed off, leaving me alone to deal with a slowly forming crowd. The people were popping up from their homes and shops, coming to see the stranger to their town.

Without the wolves, the people were surrounding the wagon, asking several questions. Who was I, why was I here, was I really a priest, are the wolves with me or not, etc. It was a bit exhausting to answer them all, but they quickly dispersed after being answered, save for one. He was a matured man, his wheat colored hair speckled with white. The thinning crowd seemed to give the man a wide berth, perhaps out of fear, perhaps respect. Whatever the case, he made his way to me without a single townsperson bothering him.

As he got closer, I saw the lines along his face. He was older than I had first assumed. His outfit was fairly plain, simple tunic and trousers. Fit for a common working man. Once he got close enough to speak properly to, I elected to strike up a friendly conversation.

“Hello, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“For starters,” he said, his voice almost as loud and booming as Victoria’s father’s, “you can get your wagon out of the middle of the street.” He then pointed to a small post on the side of the road. “Hitch your horse there and stop taking up so much space.”

After following his directions, I followed up with him, “Sir, my name is Richter, and I’m here from Blackthorne. We received word that…”

“I know why you’re here,” he interrupted.

That was a bit surprising. “Oh, then this makes things much easier.” I pulled out the letter, preparing to read it aloud. Before I could, however, the older man cleared his throat and ushered me to follow him. We walked to a small building, which I learned was his own home. Within the house, sitting down at a small table, was a young man. This was the guard who saw the supposed sorcerer. The older man introduced himself and the guard as Simon and Emile, respectively. Emile recounted the story from the letter, about finding a boy going to the woods at night. I asked him why he didn’t go after the kid as well as where the kid was currently.

“Ya gotta understand,” he drawled, “the kid ain’t normal. He’s got these weird eyes.”

Weird eyes? I’d never heard of a sorcerer’s eyes having any change after forging a pact with a demon. “What do you mean, exactly?” I questioned.

“Look, the kid goes out almost every night. If you wanna follow him and find out what he’s doing, it’s your choice. Me? I’m gonna stay in town. If that boy is dealing with demons, I don’t wanna go anywhere near him.” He was avoiding the question about his eyes. I decided not to push him.

I got the information I needed. I thanked the men for their time and left the home. My bestial friends had returned to the wagon, waiting around for me. I shared the information I had, and lamented that I did not know where the boy was, or who for that matter.

Lucian scoffed. “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Never is.” He ran a hand through the fur on his neck and yawned.

Eliza chimed in with, “We did a circle around town, sniffing around. We couldn’t smell any demon at all. That’s good, right?”

“So,” I quietly muttered aloud, “does this even mean that kid’s a sorcerer at all?” The wolves didn’t answer me, instead opting to inspect their silver blades almost impassionately. This was just a job for them. A simple demon routing, nothing more. But for me, this was my chance to deal with a real sorcerer. But, if this child wasn’t even a sorcerer, then was the intel wrong? Certainly, it might have been just a rumor, but there’s usually some truth to these things. And what about the boy’s eyes? The guard said they were strange, but that didn’t add up to any information about sorcerers. I decided it best for the three of us to wait until night and see if anyone left for the woods.

We passed our time quietly playing cards. When it got dark, we abandoned the game and headed to the far side of town to keep watch. It didn’t take long for us to spot a lone boy leaving town and walking towards the forest. Slowly, the three of us crept after the kid, keeping our steps light so as to make as little noise as possible. As we drew closer to the forest, the air around us began to grow colder.

For the first time, we experienced what winter would truly feel like. Our own breath was coming out as steam, and frost could be seen along the ground and in the trees. A clawed hand landed on my shoulder and Lucian whispered into my ear, “Demon. One. Small clearing a ways up.” Even though they had never tracked through frozen air before, the wolves were able to sniff out the presence of a demon. So, it would seem the boy was smart enough not to summon it in the town proper. The boy was now far enough ahead of us that we couldn’t see him clearly.

Eliza motioned for us to crouch into a brush and keep low. I could feel the cold through my clothes, the frosty air against my skin. It was an unusual feeling, and I didn’t quite enjoy it. The cold stung, as if a giant hand had slapped my entire body. I could see the skin on my hands begin to redden slightly. The three of us crept our way forward, the frost slowly forming into slush the deeper into the forest we walked.

The cold stung my skin like needles. A thousand tiny needles all along my exposed skin. The wet slush on my feet began to soak into my shoes and the bottom of my trousers. I’d heard tales of men who’d lost feet due to snow getting into their shoes like this. I prayed silently to Myrrah that I would be safe from such a fate.

Finally, we had caught up to the boy. He was young. Younger than I initially assumed. He appeared as if he was barely out of his twelfth summer. His hair was messy and oily, and his clothes were ragged, ripped and torn in places. How could one so young have come in contact with a demon? Why would they do it? What could possibly drive a child like this to seek out dark magic?

The boy stood in front of an old dead tree, blackened and barren. He raised a hand and spoke out, “Come forth, Adramlin.” At once, the tree turned an ugly shade of green, and out from the bark oozed a dark creature.

It slithered and squirmed its way out, leaving a dark trail of slime behind it. Its head had the appearance of a horse covered in sickly green, insect-like chitin. It lacked eyes, only having more plates where they should be. The plates along its body shone in the dim moonlight, gleaming an eerie sight. The front hooves were missing, replaced by mangled looking hands, the fingers thin as twigs. Where the back legs would be on a normal beast, this one had a snake’s tail. Once it wormed its way out of the bark of the tree, it stood before the boy in all its hideous glory.

The insect horse opened its mouth, revealing rows of blade-like teeth, and spoke in a harsh whisper, “I receive the call. What is your need of me this night?” Its voice was oddly loud despite its words being clearly spoken low. It was as if the words were spoken right into my ears.

The boy stood up strong, his back straight, shoulders back. “I’m ready to learn the advanced magics. Teach me.” Despite his age, the boy held a strength to his voice. He showed no sign of fear towards the demon. No wavering in any part of his stance.

I shifted my stance, easing in slightly closer. A twig snapped beneath my feet.

Suddenly, the demon came flying towards the brush, mouth open and ready to sink those blades into its prey. Eliza met the demon with equal force, slamming into it. She grabbed hold of its waist and threw it into a nearby tree, brandishing her sword once it was away. Lucian stepped up beside her, sword in hand, ready to fend off the demon. Their silver blades glistened in the moonlight. Mother Myrrah was giving her blessing to her hunters.

“Deal with the kid,” Lucian shouted before charging at the demon and taking a swipe at it.

For his part, the boy did not hesitate, unleashing a stream of ice crystals towards my location, forcing me out of hiding. I only narrowly avoided them. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw the brush had been shredded to pieces. No telling what that magic would do to me, but it wouldn’t be good. The boy shot out another stream of ice, but it missed, curving off to my right. The young sorcerer stamped his foot and tried again. Unfortunately for him, I was already moving.

In my studies, I’d learned one of the best ways to deal with sorcerers is to let them cast their spells. The magic would sap their strength, so that the more spells they cast, the weaker they’d become. It was described as no different from running for a long time. Eventually you’d need to stop, or you’d risk causing untold damage to your own body. Once the sorcerer had used up their strength, then one would have the chance to get in close.

I could hear the struggles of my wolven friends as they battled with the demon. The sound of metal thunking against trees as their swings would miss the creature. A scream of pain as a hit would connect. An order barked out to one another as they coordinated a strategy. This was why wolves always work in teams of two or more. If one made a mistake, the other could cover them and defend, and vice versa. With every attack made, the second would follow up from a different angle, hoping to force the demon off balance.

In my own fight, I continued to avoid shot after shot of ice. I noticed each shot became weaker and smaller. The boy was tiring out, and soon, I could make my move. And Mikhael said not to underestimate magic. This was a kid, he lacked the stamina needed to keep a fight going for long. This was easier than I thought.

A yelp of pain grabbed my ears. It wasn’t from the demon. It was Lucian. I turned and saw the brown wolf hunched down, holding a bleeding arm, his sword lodged in a tree. The demon slithered up to him, raising one of its ugly hands to strike the wolf, when Eliza came up from behind and drove her sword into its chitinous body. The strike didn’t pierce all the way through, but it was enough to send the demon cowering away from the duo.

As a smile formed on the edge of my lips, a sharp pain erupted in my right arm. A large shard of ice had sunk into my arm right above the elbow. A weak smirk plastered the sorcerer’s face and he prepared to cast another spell. With my arm beginning to go numb, I lurched forward, falling flat to my face in the slush, the shard of ice flying over my head. As pain shot through me, I dragged myself up and dashed at the boy. It didn’t matter he was a kid. He was a sorcerer, and he was prepared to kill. Mikhael’s words of warning rang in my head and I felt stupid for ignoring them.

As I got closer, the boy’s weak smile faded. He tried to cast one more spell, but I reached him and, using my left hand, struck him across the jaw. Of course, I did not hit him full force. I may have understood his intent was to kill, but the feeling was not mutual. The boy fell to his knees and cried out.

I pulled the stole from around my neck--surprisingly it hadn’t flown off in the frantic fight--and wrapped it around the boy’s neck. I began to recite a prayer of binding, which would prevent him from casting any more spells for a time. The stole shone a bright golden glow, then the young sorcerer attempted to raise a hand and shoot another frozen shard my way, only to find the spell failed. He tried again, and once more he found the spell not coming forth. From the other side of the clearing, I heard the demon shout in pain again. What I saw when I turned back was the demon on the floor of the forest, two silver blades punctured clean through its body up to their hilts, trapping it to the ground below.

I called Eliza to me. When she saw the ice shard in my arm, she began to panic. “Oh, by Myrrah’s light! Richter, how did this happen? We need to get this out of you before it begins to rot your arm.” She fidgeted about some seconds while mumbling about the consequences of leaving the shard lodged in my body. I decided to get her to focus on the task at hand.

“That’s why I called you over, yes. Now, if you don’t mind, get rid of this!” I tried not to get snippy with her, but when you have a piece of crystal stuck in your arm, I believe you’re allowed to be a little rude.

Gingerly, she gripped the shard as best she could and began to pull. It felt worse coming out than it had going in. All the numbness that had set in was fading, giving way to pure hot pain. I may have yelled and swore. My mind is blank on the specifics. Once the shard was dislodged from my arm, I pulled the stole off of the boy and wrapped it around my wound, reciting a healing miracle. As the pain began to ease away, Lucian walked up beside me.

“So,” he growled, “now what?” He was still bleeding from his arm, so I repeated the miracle on him. A priest’s healing miracles are useful, but they cannot work on every injury. They’re mostly surface level, repairing damaged skin. Any ruptured organs or broken bones would be beyond the miracle’s abilities. Thankfully, neither Lucian nor myself suffered deep wounds like that. Our injuries would not fix themselves immediately, but at least the prayer could keep the pain at bay.

“Now,” I answered, “we have to cleanse the forest.”

“And how do we do that?” the shaggy wolf asked.

“We’re going to need some holy water. “ As I reached into my pockets, I came up short. I forgot to bring holy water.

How could I forget the holy water? My training had told me lesson one was always carry holy water. It had been hammered into my head to keep at least one full bottle with me, and yet I somehow forgot it. Father MacDonald would not be pleased when we reported back about this.

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “Something the matter, Richter?”

I stammered for a second or two before responding. “I forgot the water.”

“Then what do we do?” Lucian cried out.

“I...um…” I felt so stupid for forgetting one of the most important items for any priest. The only thing we could do would be to go into Val and bless some water there. Unfortunately, without holy water, we also could not purify the boy of his demonic influence. If we left the forest with him, the binding I placed on him could wear out while in town. After all, it was only temporary. If we left him here, he could escape. And I didn’t feel right asking one of the wolves to stay in this frozen wood alone with a sorcerer who could slowly regain his ability to fling spells.

Well, since this was my fault, I would deal with the consequences, I told myself. “Alright, you two, head back to Val and fill up a few bottles with water. Bring them back and I’ll bless them, then we can deal with the forest and our little spellcaster.” When they tried to tell me it was stupid to be alone with the boy, I shouted at them to stop wasting time. That got them hurrying along.

It would take a few minutes for them to return. I decided to take this time to learn more about our little sorcerer. He was just sitting in the half melted snow, staring down at his feet. I noticed a bruise forming on the side of his face where I had struck him.

“I’m Richter,” I said, extending a hand out to him. He looked up at me, and I finally understood what that guard Emile meant about the boy’s eyes. They looked soulless, as if staring out in the distance. They were the eyes of a tired man, one who’d seen enough in his life. These were not the eyes of a child. A child’s eyes should be filled with wonder and amazement, happiness and excitement at anything the world could show them. This boy was a broken soul.

And then, it clicked. The eyes, the oily hair, the ragged clothes. The boy had been mistreated. It would certainly explain his desire to seek out demonic power. My heart ached for the boy. Even if he had tried to kill me moments ago, I wanted nothing more than to help him.

Without returning my gesture, he spoke up, “Alistair.” Sadness peaked in his voice. “You’re gonna execute me, aren’t ya?”

I was taken aback. “Execute you? Where did you get that idea?”

“That’s what ya mean by purify, right? You’re gonna kill me like ya killed Adramlin.”

I knelt down to meet his gaze at eye level. “Alistair, that demon was not your friend. And there is no chance I would ever allow you to be killed under my watch.”

Tears formed in his eyes. “But, I hurt you. And Adramlin hurt your friend. I deserve it, don’t I?”

If I didn’t know any better, it sounded as if he was asking to die. “Alistair, we’re not gonna kill you. We’re gonna cleanse your soul, rid you of that demon’s power. It’s tainted you.” I took a deep breath and came right out with, “Who was hurting you, Alistair?”

The tears began to flow down his cheeks. He hiccuped and sobbed. It took him some time before he could muster up and speak once more. By the time he calmed down, I could hear the wolves’ heavy footsteps at the edge of the forest. “I don’t wanna go back, mister,” he said.

I searched his eyes. His sad, tired eyes. I leaned in and whispered, “Your parents?”

His answer was a quiet nod.

I could feel the anger welling up inside me. The mere thought of this child being harmed by the people solely responsible for his safety made my blood boil. It took everything I had not to shout in frustration. If it was a neighbor or some other adult, it would make things easy. But his own parents? I had to calm myself before purifying the forest.

Finally, Eliza and Lucian returned. Between them, they had about five full bottles of water. Placing my hands upon the bottles, I blessed the water within. A slight glow could be seen from the bottles before dissipating. I then began to pour the now blessed water around the blackened tree, forming a circle around it. I then began my prayers. The tree was the entrance the demon had made into this world, and with my prayers, it was now closed. With that done, the air around us began to warm, the frost and ice melting slowly.

I then walked over to Alistair, still sitting in the snow. I asked him to drink some of the holy water, which he did without a second thought. Once again, I performed my purifying prayers, this time for the boy’s soul. A black mist began to billow out from his mouth; the blood of the demon being forced out. Once there was no more mist coming forth, Alistair slumped down and vomited in the snow.

I patted his shoulder, congratulating him on being rid of the demonic essence corrupting his soul. It was now time to deal with the matter of his parents.

~~~~

I found myself standing outside a rather fine looking home. It looked well taken care of. The outside walls seemed recently cleaned. The windows had not a speck of dust or grime. Even the grass surrounding the house was almost painstakingly well kept. Clearly, the owners took pride it keeping up appearances. And it was the home of our young now-former-sorcerer Alistair.

I could feel my hands bundle up into fists so hard, it was actually painful. My vision was filled with red, and I wanted nothing more than to storm into that house and make the people within suffer the same treatment they brought upon their own child. I took a step, planning to act upon this desire, but was stopped by two powerful paws upon my shoulders. My furry companions were smart enough to stop me, even though I knew they felt just as hatred as I in that moment. Realizing just what my mind was on, I felt ashamed of myself.

Earlier, still in the forest, we had decided how best to deal with Alistair’s situation. Unfortunately for us, the rumor about his supposed sorcery was a common talking point in Val. Thankfully, none of them knew he had actually been in contact with a demon, so that gave us some leeway. In order to get the boy away from such a despicable situation, we would do something I was not known to do. Something I had never truly done before. We would lie.

While I composed myself there in front of the home, Eliza took it upon herself to go up and knock at the door. Three times she knocked before someone answered. The light creak of the door revealed a stout man dressed in a fine coat, embroidered with a small insignia of a white bird upon the breast pocket. His bald head shone in the moonlight as he peeked out. Thick cheeks bulged out from the half eaten bird leg he still held in hand. He gave Eliza a quick look before jolting back in fear.

“W-W-Who are you?” he stammered out, bits of bird flying out from his mouth.

At once, an equally rotund woman strolled up the door before jumping in fear also. She had black curls upon her head that bounced with her step. As her eyes scanned our group, they examined us closely after her brief shock. When those eyes fell upon me, I felt a shiver run up my spine. It was almost worse than seeing that demon Adramlin barreling around with his razor teeth. I noticed she intentionally avoided looking at Alistair.

After she felt she was finished with her looks, she cleared her throat and spoke. “I take it you three are from the church?” Her voice had a condescending tone to it, as if she was insulted we were even there. I had to remind myself to keep a level head.

Taking a step forward, I put on my best smile and answered her in the nicest voice I could muster. “Yes, ma’am. We had heard reports of a sorcerer in town, but we found no credible evidence.” It surprised me how easily the lies came. “However, we did come across your son, whom we believe to be a perfect candidate for priesthood.” As I said this, I placed a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Priest? That runt? He wouldn’t be good enough as a bootshiner, let alone a man of the cloth.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Alistair hang his head in shame.

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my fake smile wavering slightly in my anger. “I believe he would do well as a priest. We could provide him with the education he needs, as well as a respectable position within the church.” Like my smile, my voice was cracking slightly. Despite how easy I could create these words, I was not used to being so dishonest. Even if was for a good reason, my own body was betraying me. I had to compose myself for a moment before continuing. “If you would allow it, we will give your son a new home and raise him to become a man worthy to represent the faith.”

Silence reigned as the round man contemplated my words. “Fine,” the man snorted. “You want him, take him. Not like he’s doing much good here.” The man spit out a disgusting yellowish bile before retreating into his home.

The woman’s cold stare passed over me again, sending another wave of shivers my way. I avoided making direct eye contact. I didn’t know what to do as she continued to gaze upon me, almost peering into my very soul. When she finally scoffed and removed herself from our collective presence, I let out of breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

The four of us stood there, taking in the fact our plan had succeeded. I felt Eliza’s hand upon my arm, letting me know this wasn’t just a dream. Now, the only thing left to do was to bring the boy back to Blackthorne, and discuss with Father MacDonald the next steps.

~~~~~~

I let out an aggravated sigh. “Would you prefer he stayed with those animals that were supposed to be parents?”

The father rubbed at his eyes. “No, of course not.” He clasped his hands together, resting his chin against the bridge they formed.

We were sitting within his room in the back of the church. It was a small little room, housing only his bed and dresser, along with a small desk. The two of us were sitting across from one another, he at the desk, me on the bed. The bed in question was rather soft. It reminded me of my own. Eliza and Lucian had taken Alistair to the tavern to wait while the father and I talked things out.

When the father spoke again, his voice was calm, yet held a hint of anger within. “Did you even think of the consequences? What if his parents learn the truth? A priest, lying and practically kidnapping a child. Do you know how this would look to an outside observer?”

He had a point. Then again, I couldn’t in good faith leave the boy with those so-called parents. If given the choice, I’d do it again. I took some time to sort out my thoughts. What should we do with Alistair? An idea began to form. “What if we actually do have him join the faith?”

The old priest placed his hands upon the desk. His tired old eyes showing his weariness in this discussion. “Richter, I have to report to the bishop. I won’t go along with your lie, I will tell them what happened.”

“I accept the responsibility of my actions. But, what should I have done?” Without thinking, I bolted up and slammed my hands onto the priest’s desk. “What would you have done? Would you have just left him to suffer there?”

My eyes met his steely gaze. He did not falter or avoid the connection. Eyebrows furrowed in anger. “I would have taken the boy away from such monsters.” He stood up slowly, meeting me face to face. Joint popped and bones creaked. Yet, the old man did not so much as wince. “Do not assume things. I understand your reasons, and I agree with them. But, you need to think of the consequences. Once I make my report, the bishop would be well within his right to cast you out.”

“And I understand, but you-”

“Silence yourself!” His sudden outburst made me shrink. He had never before raised his voice like that. “If the bishop wills it, he could excommunicate you. You would lose your place within the Church.” Old hands were placed upon my shoulders. “You are not a bad person,” he spoke softly. “But, your actions are a stain upon your name as a priest. They would make the Church as a whole look worse off.”

“What should I have done?” My voice cracked, my throat growing tight.

He pondered for a minute. “You should have returned without the boy, and then we could have made our case to the bishop for having the child given a better life.”

“But that would mean leaving him with those animals.”

“I know. I know. But, that would have been the most prudent course of action.”

We returned to our seats and remained silent for a while. We allowed ourselves to brew in thought. The father was right about the consequences. I could be thrown out of the priesthood for what I did. I didn’t exactly feel bad about that, since I felt it was the right thing to do, but I would be left with a hole in my heart if I did end up having to leave my position. I loved what I did. I was a part of something much bigger, something that worked toward helping people and stamping out the corruption of the demons.

If I had to give it up, what then would I do? My role in the Church had been part of my life for so long, I wasn’t sure of the answer.

Looking over at the priest, I saw him staring down at his hands. Old eyes searched for something in the air, as if all the answers to his silent questions were just floating about. I felt horrible for putting him through this. On the one hand, he had to uphold his duty, report what I’d done, and let me live with the consequences. But on the other hand, I knew he cared about me. He was my teacher and my friend. He wouldn’t want to see me thrown out, especially since we’d worked together for so long.

Maybe there was some selfishness to it, too. Maybe he didn’t want to train up a new priest again, and all the time with me would have been wasted because of my decisions. But no, I knew he wouldn’t really think like that. He had a good soul in him.

Eventually, the older man cleared his throat, ready to resume our conversation. However, it was rather brief. “I will do what I can to make your case to the bishop. Hopefully, and with Myrrah’s blessing, he understands your actions were well intentioned.” A weary breath snaked out his lips then. “Go home for now, Richter. I need to write my letter.”

My mouth opened, ready to argue my case further, but realization struck me. He had already admitted he likely would have done the same. I just had to have faith his words would sway the bishop. I chastised myself for almost restarting the argument before calmly wishing him a good night and heading off to the tavern.

The moon was high in the inky sky as I made my way down the road. I could see that Red was working through the night again. It appeared he was making some kind of dagger. Odd, since the wolves normally use proper blades. I decided not to bother him and continue on my way. Rounding a corner, I came across an older woman I vaguely recognized. She didn’t come to church often, so I could not recall her name. She seemed to be leaving the tailor’s shop. In the middle of the night. When the shop would clearly be closed. I gave her a knowing smile and told her I hoped she a nice evening. Her face flushed beet red as she hurried off to wherever.

Thankfully, the tavern was not much further than the tailor’s shop. When I entered, I noticed Eliza and Lucian trying to teach Alistair a card game. I also noticed a small slip of white in one of Eliza’s sleeves. Shaking my head in disbelief, I approached. I told the trio of my talk with the father as I sat down.

Alistair looked up when I finished. “So, what’s gonna happen to me?” The bruise on his cheek was forming in nicely, making my guilt sink in more.

I ruffled his messy hair. Oily and dirty. “Well, first off, you need to get cleaned up.” I pointed my thumb at the she-wolf then. “Why don’t you go with Eliza? She’ll help you get clean and find a nice bed to sleep away the night. We’ll worry about anything else in the morning, alright?”

Reluctantly, Eliza took the boy out of the tavern. When she walked past me as she left, she nicked my arm with one of her claws. Apparently, she wasn’t much pleased I sort of foisted the kid on her. I gave her a smile and waved as she left. That left just me and Lucian.

“So,” the shaggy wolf began, “what will happen to the kid?”

“He’s been purified already, so the only thing left is to reform him.”

“But he’s a kid.”

“I know. Which is why he’s probably going to be left alone. He’s too young for jail, and I highly doubt the bishop is going to want him back with his parents. They might send him off to live with another relative, someone more responsible who won’t harm him.” I stood up and stretched, ready to head home and get some rest.

But before I left, Lucian stopped me, “And what’s gonna happen to you?” A look of genuine concern shone in his eyes. It was rather nice to know he actually did care.

A sad smile formed on my lips as I spoke. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

~~~~

Birdsong flitted through the window as sunlight tried to burn through my eyelids. Try as I might, I could not ignore these things and return to blissful slumber. How curious, though. I remember the window being closed and the curtain drawn when I came home last night. My mother might have came into the room and opened them up when she woke. I wouldn’t put it passed her to do that.

Slowly cracking open my eyes, I could make out a large blurry shape opposite my bed. At first, I assumed it to be some clothes hung up against a chair, but as my vision cleared more and more, the blurry shape began to reveal itself. Coarse, raven black fur. Claw tipped hands folded atop one another on the lap. In the arms and legs, I could easily see newly formed muscles created from a month of intense training. And of course, dull green eyes that I could easily lose myself in.

I wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull her to me and hold her tight. To feel her once again after being apart for so long. I needed to know she was really there, and that this wasn’t just a cruel trick my mind was playing on me. However, my body would not move. Despite my desires, my body refused to act, and so I was left there looking at the wolfess.

Her face lit up in a warm smile, however, and she came to me. She knelt down against the bed, resting her head on my shoulder, staring up at me with pure joy swimming in her eyes. “Morning,” she said softly.

Finally, my body relented, and allowed me to sit up. At once, I pulled her face up to mine and gave her a fierce kiss, full of desire and want. She responded in kind, bringing her rough paws to wrap around my body, pulling us against one another. I ran my hands over her back, feeling the newly crafted muscles hiding beneath her black coat. It was a different feeling, her having a strong body and fur like this, but that changed nothing about my feelings for her. She was still the one person who could light the fire within my heart, and at that moment, my heart---and one other place---was screaming for me to show her that.

She pulled away from our kiss and just smiled at me. Her eyes smoldered with need and longing. The intense gaze was enough to make me pull her down onto the bed and climb atop her, straddling her hips. It made me feel a bit odd doing so, since I was so used to things being the other way. Now with her larger size, I felt small and vulnerable. Despite this, however, my lower brain demanded we ignore this and get on with things. I fought against the urge to just rut like an animal and began to sink down between her legs, planting soft kisses along the way. Thick fur was my main greeter, but hiding underneath it all was delicious skin.

My wolf lover cooed and swooned at my attentions. When I finally found my destination fixed between her now muscular thighs, I attacked it relentlessly, and was rewarded with sweet honey and pleasured moans. Sharp nails raked my scalp oh so softly, and whispered words of pure love and joy were all I needed. Squeezing Victoria’s thighs, I found them indeed firm with muscle, but with some softness to them. With every continued swipe of my tongue, her body let out a small shiver, and her legs would tighten up underneath my grip. A sharp tug of my hair and I was pulled up. My lover’s pleading eyes, as well as my own painfully hardened rod, were my encouragement to cut right to the main course.

A hard knock at the front door stalled me. The two of us both growled in frustration and unsatiated lust. A second knock, followed by a loud voice calling my name. Eliza. A third time she knocked, louder this time, loud enough to wake the dead. I looked upon the face of my sweet Victoria, and saw a mirror of my own annoyance. However, through my lust addled mind, a reminder of last night kicked its way to the forefront. Eliza was likely here to discuss matters concerning Alistair. I didn’t want to leave the sweet embrace of my wolf blooded love, but I knew there were important matters to be dealt with.

As we began to dress ourselves, I took notice of my lover’s wolfish body more. During her initial change into her current state, she was still rather thin. But now, she certainly looked the part of a demon hunter. Her training had clearly paid off. Not that it was surprising, every hunter ends up strong and powerful. I even saw her posture had changed. She was more confident, puffing her chest out and squaring her shoulders, keeping her arms relaxed but clearly ready for anything as evidenced by how close she kept a hand near her sheathed blade.

While dressing myself, I thought about how quick I was to return to intimacy with Victoria. Before now, I had pondered if I even would feel the same during a passionate moment, but clearly my body knew that answer more easily than my head. I simply acted on instinct, the desire to come together as one again. It appeared I had just been overthinking things.

“Richter!” Eliza slammed on the door a fourth time. I was afraid she might end up breaking it down. Sighing, I pulled myself out my room and towards the front door. Before the wolfess outside had the chance to destroy a piece of my home, I opened the door, greeted by a snarling face. “Finally,” she breathed, pushing past me and walking in.

Like most of the hunters, Eliza was dressed in her armor. The wolves are supposed to always be ready at a moment’s notice. However, normally, the day after a job like last night’s would be a free day for whatever hunters participated. Sort of a rest day, I’d been told. So, it was a bit off-putting to see Eliza dressed for duty.

“Yes, please come inside,” I mocked. After shutting the door, I turned to see Eliza sniffing the air. She did this for a few moments before getting a wide smile on her muzzle. Her teeth glistened in the sunlight coming from the windows.

“Victoria’s back?” she questioned. She clearly already knew the answer, so I didn’t bother responding. Instead of even waiting for a response, however, she walked over to me and sniffed again, focusing more on the area around me. A nod of the head and then, “Oh yea, her scent’s all over you, she’s definitely back.”

Before I had the chance to say anything, Eliza’s ears swiveled as Victoria exited my room. The black furred wolfess managed to conceal her irritation at our interruption better than I did, as she had plastered a grin on her face at seeing her fellow hunter. “Morning, Eliza,” she chirped happily.

As the two exchanged pleasantries, I began to hear the town outside waking up. Doors opening, feet stomping down streets, shops calling out for their workers to do this or that. Just then, I was reminded of my own morning duties. “Hey, Eliza,” I called out. “I’m sorry to just run like this, but can what you wanted to talk about wait until this afternoon?”

A frown broke out as her eyes narrowed. She likely thought I was lying, but after a few seconds of consideration, she gave in. “Sure, just meet me at the tavern later.”

And with that, I departed out to the slowly busying streets. Truthfully, I didn’t really want to leave. I’d only just gotten to see Victoria again. But, I’d waited that long. A few more hours couldn’t hurt. It was still early enough in the morning that the streets weren’t too busy, so the walk to the church was uneventful. When I got there, I saw Father MacDonald handing an envelope to a courier.

Well, that was it then, I told myself. Going forward, all I could do was wait and pray. As the courier departed, I walked up, greeting the older priest with a warm smile. “Morning, Father.”

“Morning, Richter.” His voice lacked the mix of anger and sadness from last night. It appeared he had calmed overnight, and now seemed like his usual self again. A pat on the shoulder and a returned smile was all I needed to confirm it. “Are you ready for morning service?”

Our morning was more the same as any other. A usual service; reading scriptures, prayers to Mother Myrrah, talking with people after service ended. It was a simple day. Not everyone in Blackthorne was particularly faithful, so it was rare for the pews to be completely filled most days. However, it was always nice to see the regular churchgoers. Even some of the off-duty wolves were in attendance.

By the time the last person had departed for home, it was almost noon. The father and I were busy with sweeping the floor, but my mind was mostly focused on his letter to the bishop. Despite knowing there was nothing I could at that point, I wanted to ask what the father wrote. However, after remembering the sight of my mentor from last night, I decided it best to not bring it up. I didn’t want to ruin his current pleasant mood.

Opting instead to remain silent, I focused on cleaning. It was a simple task, yes, but relaxing. The mundane act of wiping away dust and washing windows just had a way of helping me to clear my mind and unwind. Perhaps it was the monotony and the fact I could do these things without effort, which gave me the ability to retreat inside my mind for a time. I usually would take that time to create plans for later activities; where to go, whether or not to go see a friend, making a mental list of any food or such I needed to buy, what have you.

But, that day, my mind was focused on Victoria. How coarse and rough her fur was as I ran my fingers over her body. The earthy scent of her natural musk combined with honeysuckle. The fire in her eyes as we embraced. The feel of her hot breath against my face after pulling apart from our passion-fueled kiss. Everything from the morning was replaying in my mind, and I came to a realization.

I’d never been more aroused by Victoria than today.

Certainly, I’d enjoyed our intimate moments in the past, and I never once felt anything but love and lust in those moments. But, something about that morning was different. I decided it was due to the time we spent apart. Finally getting to release pent up frustrations of not seeing one another must have triggered it.

While I was mulling this over, someone patted my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. None other than Father MacDonald was the culprit. Like most days, he’d been quiet while we cleaned. I assumed he was likely lost in his own mind like I. But, whenever we would finish, we would go to the tiny backroom he called his own and we would have something to drink. Usually, it was some tea he’d picked up from one of the merchant caravans, but not this day. No, this time, he poured us both a large mug of mead. Spiced mead, in fact.

I’d never seen the older priest drink anything alcoholic before. In my naivete, I believed he just didn’t drink the stuff. I suppose I was still a bit caught up in the strangeness of it when he talked, because I could hear him say something, but not the specifics. After clearing his throat to catch my attention, he repeated himself. “I know this is different, but I wanted to share this with you.” He lifted his mug to his lips and took a long pull. I did the same.

The taste was unlike the mead the tavern served. It was sweeter, which probably masked the alcohol. I could see myself drinking too much of it too fast and losing my night in a drunken haze, because I couldn’t get enough of it. It was wonderful. Before I knew it, I’d already downed the entire mug, eliciting a laugh from my mentor.

“That good, eh? Well, I’ll need to make more then.”

I paused. “You made this?”

He lifted his mug and gave a wry smile, his eyes glinting from behind his spectacles. “I dabble a bit, yes. Been doing it for about twenty years now.”

Twenty? “Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?” If he was this good at making mead, he could make some serious crown with it.

A shrug of the shoulders and another pull from the mug. “This is just a hobby. I mainly make it for myself.”

So, why share it now, I thought. If he keeps it for himself, why change that for me? What reason? Slowly, the wheels in my head began to turn. “This is a farewell toast.”

He placed his mug gently down onto his desk. “I know how this might seem, but I’m not anticipating a goodbye. This is more of a gift. I’ve been selfishly hoarding this stuff away year after year, only drinking it in solitude. But,” he gave a soft smile at this, “I want you to know I respect you. And what better way than by letting you in on a years long secret not even Mikhael knows?”

“Father, I never thought you didn’t respect me.”

“I know, I know,” he said, waving his hand as he spoke. “I just wanted to share this with you. Something no one else knows. Is that wrong?”

I could feel the beginnings of a grin worming its way onto my face. “Of course not.”

We spent a while drinking and talking. Through our talks, I learned the father made his mead using honey he buys from caravans. He said the taste always varies depending on where the honey comes from. Apparently, honey from the islands of Hidel make for the best mead. Sadly for me, his current stock was used with Gransys honey, not that I was complaining. It was still above and beyond the tavern stock.

The tavern! My mind jumped at the reminder. I was supposed to meet Eliza after I was done with my work at the church. I didn’t want to be rude to the father, so I told him about this morning, leaving the more intimate portion out of it. When I explained the situation to the father, he was very understanding. “Don’t keep a lady waiting,” he said with a smile. “Especially not if you gave your word.”

When I got outside the church, I felt a bit lightheaded. The mead was stronger than I thought. Or I had too much. Probably both. Regardless, I had to take care to keep myself going the right path, as well as to ensure I wouldn’t bump into anybody or anything. Through effort, I prevailed, landing myself a firm seat at the long table in the tavern. Deciding it best to not make myself drunk, I abstained from mead with my lunch, which was another plate of meat and potatoes. I was halfway into my meal when I realized Eliza wasn’t around. Had she forgotten about the meeting?

As if in response, who else would show up but Eliza’s twin, Edmund? The man did not hesitate to make a line directly to me, taking the seat opposite mine. I sometimes would forget he and Eliza were related. After all, it’s hard to see the resemblance when one is wolf blooded while the other remains an average human. Edmund had deep, sunken in eyes that shone a bright amber in the light from the still open windows. His dirt colored hair fit his almost raggedy attire. It wasn’t like he was poor, he just dressed the part. For some reason. The only real similarity in appearance he still shared with his sister were the muscles, owed in no small part to his work on the farm with Graham. The man was certainly a strong person, easily able to lift his wolvish twin. I’d seen it happen from time to time when they would argue and try to wrestle the other to the ground.

“Just the man I was told to look for,” he said almost a bit too loud, with an edge of irritation threatening to come forth. “What took you so long to get here?” He wasted no time in helping himself to my food, not even attempting to be subtle about it. I could feel the insults forming in my throat, but knew better than to give in.

I put on my most cordial face. “I apologize, but I was busying at the church.” Edmund didn’t even bother looking me in the eye, instead opting to shovel potatoes down his gullet. One of my eyes began to twitch slightly. “You know you could have come seen me there? You didn’t need to interrupt my meal.”

“I know,” he said, bits of potatoes flying out his mouth. Always a disgusting eater, this one. Using his hands rather than utensils, not even trying to keep his mouth closed as he ate. I don’t know how anyone put up with him. “But my sis told me to tell you Mikhael has some kid named Alistair with him. Something about the kid needing a place to stay.”

Oh. That was good, then. Mikhael might be an old grump, but he’d make sure the boy would be taken care of while he was in Blackthorne. Curious that Eliza would tell me, though. “Is that all you needed to say?”

It took a second for the man to finish swallowing what remained of my meal. I almost wanted to punch him for it. “Oh yea, and she also said to tell you, and I quote, ‘You are a bastard, and I hope your dick falls off.’ Must’ve pissed her off, huh?”

Sighing, I relieved myself from the tavern. My meal had been ruined, and I had no further reason to stay. Not like I wanted to spend more time with Eliza’s oaf of a brother. At least I now knew for certain Alistair was seen to. No need to worry about the boy if Mikhael was watching over him. The man had a soft spot for children, after all. Be this due to not having any of his own, I did not know. I had an inkling he normally is a kind man, and his gruff attitude was just a facade, but I could never prove this. It’s not like he’d ever admit it, of course.

On my way home, I began to think about the morning again. I remembered how both Eliza and Victoria were dressed in their leathers. Normally, this would mean they were on duty that day. But, if that were true, did that mean I still had to wait even more before I could spend time with my lover? Deciding not to wait around, I took the initiative and went to find one of the hunters. Around that time of the evening, the shift change would be happening soon, so all I had to do was head towards one of the guard towers.

Thankfully, the closest one was just a short hop away, so I made it with time to spare before the shift change. At the moment, two wolves were in the tower. One short and black furred, the other a bit taller with rust colored fur. At times, it was hard to tell some of the wolves apart when they shared the same fur color. The rusty one could have been three different people, for example.

When they saw me, they both smiled and welcomed me in. The shorter of the pair spoke first. “Evening, Richter. What brings you around? Not every day you visit one of the towers.” By his voice, I recognized him as Cillian.

The taller one smirked, and right away I knew who it was. “He’s clearly here to see which tower Victoria’s stationed at tonight.” Garland. The first wolf I ever helped change. I still remember how nervous I was that night, but Garland didn’t let me lose my nerve, despite the fact he was the one who’d end up sprawled on the ground in pain. It’d been some time since I last saw him.

I smiled right back at the two. Of course it was obvious why I was there. Not a person in town who knew me didn’t also know Victoria. When we were in our teenage years, we were practically joined at the hip. “What, a man can’t know where his lover is after not seeing her for nearly a month?”

Garland scoffed, “You just wanna know so you can sneak her off and rut like rabbits, I bet.”

“We can’t have our newest recruit failing her first shift just because you wanna get off,” Cillian joined in.

“Very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So, she does have a shift tonight?”

The rusty wolf nodded. “Yep, in the northeast tower. By the way, I heard her brother was her trainer. Hope that runt didn’t skip out on anything just because she’s family.”

A memory barreled to the forefront of my mind, and I got a wicked idea from it. “If I recall, your own mother was your trainer,” I pointed out. “And I distinctly remember you whining about ‘mummy not cutting me any slack.’ Or wait, was it, ‘mum is working me to the bone, woe is me?’”

If looks could kill. I could see the mixture of embarrassment and anger in Garland’s eyes as the shorter hunter began to laugh. I simply flashed a smile and left, the sound of Cillian’s laughter fading away with every step. Well, another disappointment that day. More time spent apart from Victoria. Even considering the morning, I mostly just wanted to have her around, to spend time together like normal. Though, since she would now be a constant in the shift rotation, our time together would not be as frequent as it used to be.

With nothing else to occupy my time, I made for home. Despite the fact I did not do too much, I felt strangely tired. Perhaps the mead was the cause. Whatever the case may be, I finally got home, opening the door to see my mother reading in her favorite chair. She had told me some time ago the chair was made by my father, a gift to celebrate my birth.

I never knew my father, not personally at least. But, I’d been told stories from my mother and the older folks in town. I knew of him, in a sense. He’d gotten ill and passed away when I was but a babe. From what I’d been told, I wished I had known him. Everyone old enough to know him had stories to tell, from funny quirks of his like how he stuck his tongue out when in deep thought, to the time he teamed up with Ol’ Red to cuss out a caravan merchant for trying to sell copper daggers painted to look silver.

As if she could read my mind, my mother called out, “Thinking about your father again?”

Shaking the thoughts away, I looked to her. “How do you always know?”

“Call it a mother’s intuition,” she said with a shrug, which caused her golden curls to bounce slightly.

With a sigh, I sat down in the chair opposite hers. “I just wish I’d known him. What would he think of me? I mean, I’m nothing like him, being a priest and all. Would he even see me as his own? He was a carpenter, a man who worked with his hands, while I spend my days holding sermons and speaking scriptures.”

She slammed her book closed, which made me jump at the suddenness of it. “Now, sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but your father would think the world of you. Even though he only knew you for a short time, you were the only thing he would ever talk about with people.”

“Really?” I could see a twinkle in her eyes. She always got this when she would tell me about my father.

“Oh, by Myrrah, you were always on his mind.” A warm smile spread across her cheeks, and she seemed to almost glow. “Every day when he’d get home, he’d immediately dash over to you and take you in his arms. Holding you like that would just make him melt. It was adorable to see a man like your father acting like that.” She let out a happy little breath before continuing on. “When you were born, I was almost certain I saw tears flowing down his cheeks.”

She reached out and squeezed my arm. Her smile was so overwhelming, I couldn’t help but return it. “Your father would be proud of you.” She then stood up and planted a small kiss on my forehead. “I know I am,” she finished. After giving me a firm pat on my cheek, she was off to her room.

Following her example, I retreated to my own room. The warm embrace of sleep found me eventually.

~~~

Something moved against me. Something warm. Something...fuzzy. An earthy scent flooded my nostrils, but through it all there was a soft touch of honeysuckle. In my half sleep, I felt strong arms reach around my body and pull me against another. Shifting slightly, I turned to face this body and planted a soft kiss on a neck covered in fluff.

Sleep returned easily, but just before the darkness closed in fully, I heard a faint whisper of, “I love you.”

~~~

It took about two weeks for anything significant to happen. During the weeks, my days were as normal, though now I had an added benefit of sometimes getting to spend time with Victoria again. Usually we’d have a decent meal together. She told me about her training, and how Roderick was a completely different person during it, barking out orders and not allowing a single day to go by without some kind of lesson. The man had tried to emulate Mikhael’s attitude, and actually managed to live up to the older wolf’s example, if for a little while. I doubted he’d get away with that imitation now that he was back in Blackthorne.

I’d even seen Alistair following Mikhael around the market one day. When the boy had seen me, he ran right up to me and sparked up a small conversation about how warm the bed Mikhael gave him was, as well as the food he’d been treated to. Before, the kid looked disheveled and almost worn down, but that day I saw a bright and happy child with not a care in the world. Only interested in whatever new thing he could get his hands on. It amazed me how quickly he’d turned around, and I thanked Myrrah he was doing so well.

Around noon sixteen days after the job in Val, a letter came to the church. It was marked with the seal of the bishop. I dared not open it myself, feeling nervous over what it might contain, so I handed it over to the father hastily. As he calmly read through its contents, the lines on his forehead lessened, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Good news, my son,” he started. “You will not be excommunicated.”

I was so happy, I nearly jumped for joy. I only contained myself because I knew there had to be more to the letter than that.

Seeing the happiness in my eyes brought a smile to the older priest’s face as he continued reading. “Alistair will be sent to live with relatives in Jasmik, an aunt and uncle with two children of their own. His uncle will take him on as an apprentice blacksmith, as well.”

“A good, hardy job,” I thought out loud.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “As for you, by Myrrah’s grace, he believes you made the right choice, if rash and too quick for his comfort.” He paused for a moment before resuming, starting slowly, as if confused by what he was reading. “He also wishes to speak with you in person.”

“In person? What about?”

“Doesn’t say,” he muttered after rereading the letter. “But, I imagine it isn’t anything too serious.”

“Does he normally ask to see people like this?”

“Not usually. The last time was about six or so years back. Something about a young priest wishing to change his vocation and leave the faith. If I recall, the bishop simply wanted to ask the young man his reasons, then wished him a happy life in whatever profession he chose.”

“So,” I began, “this isn’t a bad thing? If he already said I can stay, why speak with me personally?”

My mentor shrugged. “I have no idea. But, if you’re going to be meeting him, you’ll need to prepare for the journey.”

“Wait, what journey? I assumed the bishop would be coming down to us.”

Father MacDonald gave me a strange look, then he began to laugh. “Oh, dear boy, no.” His laughter got to the point where he had to remove his spectacles and wipe his eyes. I could feel the heat of embarrassment rising into my cheeks. “When the bishop wants to speak to someone, they go to him.”

Over the next hour or so, we discussed what I’d need to do to properly prepare for my trip. The right amount of food, crowns, clothing, and the like. I also asked about the length of my little trip, learning it would be nearly a month, counting the return. Since winter--or what counts as such down here--was soon to set in, the roads would quickly become slick with rain and mud, so it was likely the journey would be even longer to account for any roads too hazardous to trek through.

“Lastly,” the father stated, “you’ll be granted an escort of two wolves.”

“Escort? Father, I doubt there’ll be any trouble getting there.”

“Nonsense. We can’t send you off alone. Always prepare for anything, after all. We can spare a few hands in seeing your journey is a safe one.” He then went towards the backroom, a now common signal he wished to share a drink or three. Along the way, he continued, “Before you set out, I’d like to ask you something, if you’ll indulge me.”

Finding it odd of him to ask permission like that, I was cautious. “I suppose it depends on what the question it.”

As he opened the door and stepped into the backroom, he gave his response. “Before you leave, I’d like to officially anoint you as a priest. If you accept, of course.”

Words did not come. I stood stock still right outside the room, unable to speak. For years now, I’d studies under the old man, learning what I’d need to become a proper man of the faith. I’d passed every examination the priest gave me, from reciting from memory verses of scripture, to performing certain rituals without his assistance. I’d done all I could to prove myself worthy in my studies, and finally my goal was in my grasp.

So why, then, could I not find the words to accept? I knew deep down this is what I wanted. By Myrrah’s divine grace, I wanted this. And yet I did not answer my mentor. With my mouth agape, and my feet refusing to move, I stayed just outside the room. Father MacDonald stared at me, a confused look hiding behind his spectacles. Likely, he was wondering why I did not readily accept the offer.

“Richter, is everything alright?”

His words reached me, but still my own words refused to leave my throat. A voice in my mind shouted to just say yes and become a priest already. But, there was another voice, one darker in tone. It told me I did not deserve to become a priest, I was not ready to take that responsibility, that I would only fail in my duty. For some reason, its words spoke louder, drowning out the other voice. It managed to keep my throat closed.

“My boy,” the priest spoke louder, coming closer and placing a hand upon my shoulder, “what is troubling you?” I could see the worry in his face, hear the concern in his words. I was at once reminded of not only my own work to get this far, but the father’s as well. He took me in under his wing and worked tirelessly to turn this stupid young man into one who could stand proud under the name of the Church. Finally, I found my voice.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, Father.”

The lines of his forehead creased as he let out a soft sigh. “I wouldn’t ask this unless I thought you were.” The hand on my shoulder tightened slightly, a short sign of comfort. “You are ready, my boy. More than ready, in fact.” He flashed a smile before walking over to the little table we usually drink at and taking a seat.

As he began to pour us each a drink of his homemade mead, I sat down as well. “But, what if I make a mistake? What if I can’t do it on my own?”

The father raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you think I’m going somewhere, boy?”

I had no answer to this, only offering a quizzical look.

“If you are anointed, that doesn’t mean I’ll just vanish,” he spoke, his voice almost mocking my confusion. “You won’t have to do things on your own.” Bringing his mug to his lips, he took a long pull from it. Setting the mug back down, he continued, “And anyway, you cannot let the possibility of failure scare you. What would all your work have been for if you just give up now?”

I knew he was right, but that voice in my head kept repeating its words of doubt, continuing to tell me I was not deserving of the position. I grabbed my mug and downed its contents in one. It was one of the spiced batches, the heat slowly traveling through me as it began to work its magic. I then took a deep breath, calming myself. Clarity began to set in, and the nagging voice retreated as I replayed all the work I’d done to take my place as a man of the faith. All the countless pages I’d had to study, all the notes read and reread about demons, all the scriptures recited, all the ceremonies and rituals performed, everything came rushing back in a wave.

I had my answer.

~~~

It was midday at the church, and I was adorned in my robes. My crimson and gold stole draped across me. Before me stood my mentor, his attire a mirror reflection of my own. I knelt down before Father MacDonald, my head bowed in prayer. I asked Mother Myrrah for wisdom and guidance in my coming days, that my mind be unclouded. I prayed further still for my loved ones; my mother, Victoria, Father MacDonald, the wolves, all the townspeople both religious and not. I wished them all peace and warmth. With my prayers said, I raised my head and looked on as the father started.

The father raised up the goblet filled with oil and began the ritual. “Holy Mother, with this oil I anoint this man anew, and fully welcome him into the arms of your Church. He shall be as your hands, working in your name. He shall be teacher and healer in accordance with your scriptures.” He made a small gesture for me to close my eyes, and after I did so, poured the oil onto my head. It smelled of orange blossom. I could feel the oil slide down the side of my face, soaking into my hair, falling down onto my robes. “Holy Mother, may this man’s soul remain pure, free from the corruption of demonic forces. May he always walk in your light.”

A cloth then rubbed against my face, cleaning some of the oil off, and I was greeted to the smiling face of my mentor. The warmth in his smile was enough to make my heart swell. He helped me stand, and turned me around to face the rest of the church. Friends and family were in attendance to witness my ordination. My mother was holding in tears of pride, but I could sneak a few making their way from the corners of her eyes. Beside her sat Victoria’s mother and father, with their two wolvish children in between them, all four with giant grins plastered on their faces.

In further pews, I could see the twins Edmund and Eliza, Lucian, even Garland, who had managed to convince his black furred companion to allow him to attend today’s ceremony. Ol’ Red and I locked eyes for a moment, and he simply nodded his head at me. Graham looked ready to jump up and shout. Knowing him, it’d probably be some dirty joke. I even saw townspeople who didn’t regularly attend our church sermons sitting down peacefully. So many had come to see my transition into a proper priest.

From beside me, I could hear the feather chuckle a bit. Raising the now empty goblet, he spoke. “By the powers granted to me by the Holy Mother, I now give this man the title of priest.” With his free hand, he gave my back a strong clap, almost sending me to the floor. “Go in peace, my boy,” he said with a laugh.

Suddenly, I found myself pulled into a embrace of my mother and Victoria, both of them congratulating me and telling me they loved me. Victoria’s father gave me a hug strong enough to crack my ribs, while his wife patted my cheek and wished me well. Roderick smiled as he shook my hand, his furry hand large enough to dwarf mine. Everyone came up to congratulate me. I am not ashamed to admit, I was so moved I was nearly moved to tears.

Eventually, everyone had their turn to speak with me. All but one. Red. The blacksmith sat in the pew, not moving from his spot until the majority of people left the church. The only ones left were myself, Father MacDonald, my mother, and Victoria and her family. Red calmly got up and headed my way. He walked with a slight limp, and I noticed one of his legs had been bandaged up. Likely some minor accident while forging. Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last. Strapped to his side was a dagger, which he untied and held out to me.

“For you,” he grunted.

Taking it from him slowly, I pulled it free from its sheath, and paused. The others around me murmured a bit, just as surprised as I was. The dagger’s blade was silver. I stammered out, “Red, I can’t take this, silver is supposed to--”

“Be for the wolves,” he finished my sentence. “Yes, I know. I make the bloody things.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the older priest. “When he told me you was finally becoming a priest, I figured you needed a nice gift to go along with it.”

“But, Red, I--”

“But nothing,” he stopped me with a wave of his hand. “I don’t wanna hear no moaning about who or what the silver is supposed to belong to. I’m the forgemaster, and I say this is for you.” He then crossed his arms , puffing his chest out a bit. “And if anyone’s got a problem, they can take it up with me personally.”

Looking around the room at the others, I saw none of them knew what to say. Neither did I. I was honestly speechless. Red rarely did anything for free, if ever. After a minute or so of silence, I could only say one thing, “Thank you, Red.” He harrumphed and left hastily. However, whether he knew it or not, I saw the smirk he tried to hide.

I turned the dagger around in my grasp, giving it a once over. Truthfully, I didn’t really have much of an eye for craftsmanship or weapons, but knowing Red, he would have made it as expertly as all his other works. The silver blade, curved just slightly, gleamed in the light. The blade had been polished to a near mirror shean, and I could make out my own reflection within. The grip was wrapped in tough leather, while the pommel on the end provided a nice counterweight. The scabbard was made of the leather that covered the grip. Sheathing the blade, I held it firmly in hand.

From behind me, Roderick scoffed. “Crazy old man.”

“Wonder why he didn’t give me an iron one,” I thought out loud.

Roderick began to walk out the church. “Who knows? Maybe he’s been huffing too much of his forge smoke.” After he left, the rest began to file out the church, all heading to their homes or other daily duties. Victoria and Roderick left to take part in a patrol of the nearby forests. All three of our parents left to their collective routines. Even the good Father MacDonald was leaving to take part in a rousing game of cards with some other older folks. For myself, I decided to begin purchasing food and supplies for my trip to see the bishop. I removed my ceremonial robes, making a note to possibly see if anyone currently had some orange blossom oil for sale, then set off.

I started simple, dried food like nuts and salted meats would last the entire round trip if rationed well. Clean water both for drinking and food preparation came next, followed by a random assortment of bread, vegetables, fruits and some other miscellaneous foodstuff. After each purchase, I brought the supplies to the stables at the north gate. There, I placed the items into the back of a covered wagon, placing them beneath some canvas. Next would come clothing, a map, a compass, a second map just in case, and a small bit of extra food.

By the time I was done my shopping, the sun had begun to sink, and my legs were a slight bit tired of all my walking to and from the stables. Taking a rest against a wall, I made a mental list of everything I bought, and tried to think if there was anything missing. It dawned on me that it might be a decent idea to grab some holy water before setting out. Almost dreading more walking, I reluctantly pulled away from the wall and headed to the church. While there, I also grabbed a few books for some entertainment on the road.

Tomorrow, I’d leave to go to Reynald. Only question I had now was, who would be my escorts?

~~~

As I was busying myself with the wagon, moving around supplies to try to create ample room for two wolves to sit comfortably, someone cleared their throat behind me. It was the silver furred Mikhael. He motioned for me to follow him outside, where I came face to face with none other than Victoria and Garland.

Mikhael stood behind the two wolves, giving them both a slight push forward. “These two shall accompany you on your journey to see the bishop. I figured you’d rather have people you already know. Would make things go more smoothly.” Mikhael then nodded towards Victoria and finished, “This is her first official job, as well. Garland here shall be acting not only as your second guardian, but also her judge. I wish all three of you a safe trip.” He held out his large clawed hand, and when I grasped it, he gave me a firm handshake before walking off. He got a few steps before quickly coming back to say one final thing. “Also, congratulations of your ordination.” He then trodded off to wherever.

Garland cracked his neck and yawned. “Been a little while since I’ve gone too far out of town.” He scratched the rusty fluff around his neck and went to examine the wagon. Probably just giving me and Victoria some modicum of privacy.

As if sensing his intention, my raven furred lover stepped up and wrapped her arms around me. I breathed in a sigh of relief when she pulled me close, her familiar warmth and scent setting me at ease. I don’t know how long we spent clinging to one another like that, but when we separated, she gave me a quick kiss. “So,” she mumbled, “when are we setting out?”

I shrugged. “We have everything we need, unless you and Garland need to bring anything special.” She pondered this before shaking her head no. We walked in the stables, where I repeated the question of needing anything extra to Garland.

He thought for a moment before snapping his finger. “Oh, I’ll be right back,” he shouted as he ran out of the stables. His tail swished in the wind as he dashed off. Seeing him run, I was reminded of just how nimble the wolves really are when they need to be, as he had quickly gotten out of sight.

Victoria and I decided now was as good a time as any to hitch one of the horses to the wagons. We chose a strong caramel mare, who was more than happy to allow us to fix her with the reigns. Once finished, we walked her and the wagon out of the stables, ready to leave as soon as Garland returned. When he finally showed back up, he was carrying a filled pack, with what looked like some glass containers of golden liquid. Mead. Of course.

With that done, I climbed into the driver’s seat, grabbing hold of the reigns as my two companions found some open space in the wagon. Victoria, poking her head out from behind the curtain, smiled my way as I directed the mare out of the gates. Since we had set out early in the morning, the sun was only just beginning to poke its head out from beneath the horizon. The sky was painted in soft shades of blues and purples as we made our way down the main road.

We’d gotten far enough away from Blackthorne that the town was now an anthill sized version of itself on the horizon. All the time, Victoria kept her head poked out and engaging me in a talk about how happy she was about my new position. Since I had her attention, I decided to ask her, “How did the patrols go the other day?” I hadn’t been told anything, so I assumed they didn’t turn up anything of importance.

She looked behind her, deeper into the wagon, as if asking Garland a silent question. She nodded her head and turned back to me. “Well,” she began slowly, “the group I was in didn’t get anything. But, the western group caught a scent of a demon, and found some old tracks. From how they worded it, it seemed the demon was hunting in the forest about three or four days ago before moving on elsewhere. The group tried to follow the scent as best they could, but the trail went cold right on the outskirts of the forest.”

I furrowed my brow. Demons leave a heavy scent of their disgusting odor. If the smell just vanished like that, it could mean a demon must have summoned by a sorcerer. If that was the case, I felt more worried for the summoner than for Blackthorne. The wolves would make it very clear he or she would not be welcomed in our fair town.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” I was used to Mikhael coming to the church to inform the father and I about demon activity. The fact the patrol found something and we weren’t told did not sit right with me.

From behind the curtain, Garland shouted out, “Father MacDonald said not to worry you over it, since you’d be leaving soon. Best to let the town’s faithful guardians handle this one.”

Victoria’s ears drooped a bit, as if in shame. She knew, and did not tell me beforehand. I didn’t much appreciate being left in the dark. My trip to Reyland was no excuse for leaving me out of it. As if reading my mind, Victoria looked away from me and mumbled out her response, “I wanted to say something sooner, but Mikhael said they would take care of it.” Even Mikhael would hide this information from me?

A scowl appeared on my face, and the dark little voice in my mind returned, urging me to curse and swear. But, I held my tongue. My anger was with Mikhael and the father, not Victoria. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I reached out and rubbed Victoria’s head, running my fingers into the fur behind one of her ears. She let out a soft sigh as she melted into my touch. I began to move my hand from behind her ear down to her neck, scratching into the fluff there, which brought forth another small sigh from her, and a comforting smile from me.

I brought her face close and planted a kiss on her cheek, letting her know all was well. I didn’t want to let this affect me too much. Being a proper priest now, I had a standard to live up. I needed to be able to compose myself and act accordingly. That being said, I still felt hurt over this. I couldn’t get my mind off this for the rest of the day, up until we made a stop for the night in a small field off the main road. After removing the wagon from her, we tied the mare’s reigns to a tree and made a little campfire for ourselves.

During our meal, Garland produced a jar of mead and happily shared it. We traded the drink amongst ourselves until we ran dry. It was the tavern stock. While nice, it did not hold up compared to the father’s brew. When the container was empty, Victoria asked for more, but Garland wagged his finger, saying, “All things in moderation, rookie. Can’t get ourselves too drunk. Not when we still have a job to do, eh?”

At some point, Garland had fallen asleep, leaving me and Victoria practically alone. It was the perfect opportunity to finally spend some quality time with one another. We were more than happy to get into the back of the wagon and remind each other of our feelings.

~~~

On the third day of our trip, we stopped in Baskerville to give our mare a decent rest. The wall surrounding the town was about the same as the one in Blackthorne, but there were a few segments where the wall had been worn down or had pieces broken off. Same for the guard towers; some stood just fine, while a few lacked a roof or a piece of a guardrail had fallen away.

When we got into town, the people there began to ask a lot of questions. I suppose our arrival was a bit odd. Not often you see a priest and some wolves traveling about, so I understood their curiosity. While attempting to answer a multitude of questions, the crowd around us grew silent suddenly. From behind the group walked up a handful of wolves. A stout brown haired man led the group, and came to stand before the three of us.

“To what do I owe this honor, Father?” He spoke as if with a mouth full of gravel. I wondered how he knew my position before remembering I had my stole wrapped around my neck. I cleared my throat and told him of our journey to Reynald. I didn’t tell the entire tale, only mentioning the letter from the bishop. He nodded along as he listened intently.

Once I was done, he responded with, “My, a summons from the bishop himself? What did you do to get his attention?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Garland beat me to it, “It’s kind of a long story. Maybe we could discuss it over a meal?”

“Garland,” Victoria admonished, “it’s rude to impose like that.” She turned her attention to Baskerville’s head guard and apologized for the rust colored wolf’s outburst.

“Nonsense,” the man said with a chuckle. “You are more than welcome to a warm meal. Come, this way.” He motioned for us to follow him as he walked off, his entourage close behind. The crowd of onlookers and other assorted townsfolk dispersed as we followed to what they called their barracks. A large brick and mortar building, easily the size of three homes, sat alone on a small hill overlooking the rest of the town. Twin columns outside the front doors held up some sort of observation deck from the third floor. There was a large garden running along the left side, filled with all manner of beautiful flowers. On the right side, I could see what appeared to be a marble fountain, the water cascading down from a large bowl held overhead a statue of a faceless man. It all seemed a bit too much for town guards, in my opinion.

Once we stepped inside the so-called barracks, I felt even less enthused. The interior seemed to be what a noble would have in their home. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling with carefully positioned candles to light the main hall. Carefully placed crystal vases held roses that had been dipped in gold. An extravagant rug lined the center of the room, traveling up to and ending at the staircase, which itself had its own rug flowing down the steps. Ornate paintings and portraits lined the walls, while gold trimmed curtains covered up some, as if hiding them away from prying eyes.

As I was busy ‘admiring’ the sights, the various guards had left to their devices, leaving myself and my companions alone with the rather chubby man, who finally introduced himself as William.

“Now then,” he started, his gravelly voice now oddly softer, “you wished for a meal, yes? I’m sure our cook has something good planned.” Again, William motioned for us to follow, this time to a dining room big enough to house the entire Blackthorne tavern. Spanning the table were goblets and expensive dining plates.

I was beginning to like this place less and less.

Garland, on the other hand, seemed amazed at the posh nature of it all. Even Victoria was looking on in wonderment. While the two were staring, I calmed myself and took a seat. Despite my dislike of this place, it wouldn’t do to upset our host. Speaking of, the man clapped his hands, and in walked a butler. Or, what I suppose a butler would be. He was a man of average height, dressed as if he were going to a ball. William and the butler discussed the meal, and then the man was sent away to bring our food out.

William sat down and smiled, asking, “I hope you all enjoy griffon steaks.”

“Griffon?” Garland and Victoria both nearly shouted in surprise.

“Yes. We get the meat from Valentia. Quite delicious creatures, they are.” The man seemed almost impressed with himself, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Victoria placed her hands on the table and leaned forward a bit in her chair when she heard this. “Griffon is supposed to be pretty pricey, I hear.” Upon hearing this, the somber voice in my head whispered to me how much a waste of money this whole house was, and that the fat man before us was nothing but a greedy pig.

“Oh, indeed,” the furry guard responded. “But, my family has business ties in Valentia, so they cut us a bit of a deal on the meats.” This only seemed to inflate his ego even more, as his smile became almost wide enough to break his jaw.

A whistle came from Garland then. “Oh-ho, a blue blood, eh? Ain’t that something?”

The toothy grinned man nodded along, then waved a hand to point out the dining room itself. “As you might guess, this place is my family’s home. I personally did not wish to follow my father’s footsteps and take over the business, so I decided to live here in Baskerville. I then decided it best to change many of the rooms to better house the wolves. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

William then looked my way and was about to say something, but then the butler returned carrying a large covered dish, which he placed on the table before us. Removing the cover, he presented us with four large cuts of meat. They had each been seasoned and cooked perfectly, judging by the smell.

After the butler retreated, William was free to speak without interruption. “So, why exactly are you going to see the bishop? I hear that sort of thing isn’t exactly common.” His voice had an off inflection to it, perhaps he couldn’t believe some random young priest like me was summoned.

I weighed my options for a few moments. While I wasn’t being punished for my deeds in Val, I didn’t know if I was free to speak of it. The bishop’s letter hadn’t said anything of the sort, so I decided to just be honest with our host and told him of the entire affair. As before, he listened silently, absorbing every word I spoke as if every syllable held the utmost importance.

When I finished, he gave a small nod and put his hand to his chin. “Hm, if you’re already in the clear, why bother asking for a face to face conversation?” I answered that it was also a mystery to me, at which point the man just shrugged and went back to eating, his curiosity satisfied.

During our meal, a storm came through, bringing with it heavy winds. Some of the supplies in our wagon got loose and were lost to the storm, not to mention the rain soaking the roads into mud. Initially, we planned to only stay for the night, but with the lost supplies, we’d need to restock in the morning. And since the rains didn’t let up at all, William offered the three of us extra beds to use for the night. Which meant more time spent in that oh so wondrous manor.

When the three of us go into our borrowed room, I took in the sight of something finally normal. Three simple fur covered beds were placed at each of the three walls. The walls themselves were bare as the day they were erected, and there was not a single pointless vase or candelabra in sight.

After he sat down, Garland cornered me with a question. “Why are you so moody?”

It appeared my attitude wasn’t well hidden. “It’s this place,” I said, gesturing to the room.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Victoria tilted her head as she questioned me, her ears twitching slightly.

Sighing, I explained myself. “This is too extravagant. Did you see the walls and towers when we entered the town? They need repairs. Meanwhile, this manor has so much useless nonsense, I’m beginning to wonder if the wolves here even do their jobs.” I sat down on the spare bed in a huff, kicking up a bit of dust in the process.

My rust colored friend became quiet, mulling over this information. “What do you propose we do,” he asked after what felt like an hour. “The town seems fine, even if some repairs are needed. The people are safe. And as far as I know, Baskerville hasn’t ever requested assistance with demons, so the guards must be taking care of things.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. He had a point. Maybe I was just being harsh over nothing. I just saw no reason for someone to have so much wealth and use it on pointless trinkets. Then again, William did say the home belonged to his family. Perhaps he couldn’t make too many changes without inviting their wrath. I conceded the point and turned in early.

Sleep was not easy that night. My dreams were plagued by dark visions. I know not what they were, all that know was they did not allow me a peaceful night. As I tossed and turned, I felt a now familiar warmth crawl against me, enveloping me and chasing away the nightmares. Rough, padded hands ran down the sides of my face and arms before pulling me in close to a wonderfully furry body. After that, the dark visions vanished, and my sleep slowly turned restful.

~~~

On the seventh day, we needed to take a side road, as the main one had been flooded the previous day. The side road led us by a forest known as the Whisperwood on the map. It was named as such due to an old tale about demons luring people deep into the forest to devour them by saying sweet words and lies. No idea if it was true or not, but we steered clear of it all the same.

We eventually rode on to stop by a river, where we took a small rest for a meal. Even after restocking in Baskerville, we still needed to be careful with rationing our supplies, so we made it a fairly light meal. After our break, we continued onwards to a mining town by the name of Ezel. The place looked busy, with people coming and going all about, heading this way and that with mining supplies or ores. The people didn’t seem to pay the wagon much interest, and barely said a word about my being a priest.

However, when I hitched the wagon and my two wolfish companions exited out to the world, Ezel’s people finally showed signs of life. A crowd formed around my friends as the people came to stare and gawk at them. Those who were carrying pickaxes and the like stopped to observe the wolves, the people hauling ore halted in their tracks, even people indoors were standing by their windows to see catch a glimpse of the fur covered people.

Nearby, there was an older woman sweeping her front porch, so I walked over to ask what was going on. “Oh, we just don’t get outsiders often,” she explained. A could feel a small scowl form on my lips. If that were true, why was I so ignored? As if she knew, the woman smiled and asked, “Wondering why no one bothered you?”

I tried to pretend I wasn’t curious by not answering, but apparently this woman could see through that. “Don’t feel hurt,” she said, trying to soothe my pride. “You must admit, one of Myrrah’s demon hunters does strike a more interesting vision than a humble priest.”

“Speaking of,” I changed the topic, “where are your town’s hunters?” I began to look around, noticing no other wolves were in sight.

“Some like to guard the mine, some are probably out of town doing who knows what, and the rest like to hole up in their little base.” As she said this, she finished every other word with a sweep of her broom, almost as if for emphasis.

So long as everyone was safe, I figured it didn’t matter too much. Though, deep down, I did feel like the guards should be acting as their title entails and keeping a vigilant watch over the town proper. I thanked the woman for the little talk and went to gather my wolf blooded companions. We three spent a good hour or so looking through the shops, while a chunk of onlookers deemed it necessary to follow us. Victoria and Garland looked more than pleased when we finally left, both breathing a sigh of relief once the wagon was pulling away from the mass.

~~~

Storms continued to delay us. Our next leg of the journey was to take a tunnel path, but the tunnel had flooded too much to allow safe passage, so we were stuck on the side roads yet again. Unfortunately for me, I was forced to drive the wagon while suffering the rains, while my two furry friends remained dry inside. By some small fortune, I did buy a cloak before setting off on this trip, so I wasn’t being completely soaked. Didn’t make things all that better, but it was something, at least.

~~~

A few days later, the sky had finally cleared. All the dark clouds had left, and the sodden ground had begun to harden once more, allowing us to travel the main roads again. Even taking into account the weather, we weren’t making terrible time. Another week and some change, and we’d be at the gates of Reynald. Assuming, of course, another storm or two didn’t plow through again.

Because of the recent storms, the air still held the fresh scent of rain. That certain smell brought me back to my childhood days when I’d sit at home during a thunderstorm, and my mother would read me silly fairy tales to idle away the time. While lost in my memories, I felt a tap on a shoulder. Shaking away my thoughts, I turned my attention to Victoria, poking out from behind the curtain of the wagon.

“Map says there’s a nice little lake nearby,” she pointed out, her voice strangely hopeful. In her hands, she held the map out for clarification. We’d been marking off our trail every so often, in order to ensure we wouldn’t become lost, so the map had several little circles and dots leading from our home back in Blackthorne to roughly our current position. And, as she mentioned, Lake Velmont was in our path.

“I take it you want to stop?” Honestly, I preferred to keep going. It was the first day since we passed Ezel that the roads were good enough to ride on. I wanted us to make as much distance as we could before the roads would, inevitably, be filled with mud again.

“Of course she does,” Garland called out. “Should’ve seen the way she was shaking in excitement when she saw how close we were to the lake.”

Victoria’s ears shot up, and her eyes bugged out. If she could, she would probably be blushing. However, she quickly calmed down and mumbled, “Can we?” I almost said no, but one look at her face, and I couldn’t. She looked so innocent and sincere when she said those two words, that I just couldn’t bring myself to deny her request.

Rolling my eyes, I gave in, and soon found myself directing our mare towards Lake Velmont. My wolf blooded lover let out a near silent squeal of delight at the realization of our now current destination. She gave my cheek and haste kiss before heading back behind the curtain. Sighing, I shook my head at her childish behavior. Truthfully, I loved seeing her happy, but I did really want to make the most of the dry roads. Oh well, I told myself. Having her happy was still better than getting to Reynald one or two days earlier.

We arrived at the lake sooner than expected. It was practically just over the next hill. Being the driver, I was the first to witness its beauty. The sunlight danced on the surface of the water, reflecting out to the rocks nearby, leaving little flashes of light to warp around their edges. Deer and birds littered the landscape, drinking from the shore or grazing in the grass. Tall, naked trees stood on the opposite side, their leaves now browned and fallen. The sound of the wind whispered through the grass and over the water. It looked like one of the paintings from that manor back in Baskerville.

Before I knew it, Victoria had already dashed out of the wagon, and was immersing herself in the sights. She looked like a child with a new doll, she was so giddy. I took my eyes off of her for a second, and then I heard a splash. I looked back to see her swimming around in the lake, having the time of her life. Memories of times spent at a river near Blackthorne popped up. Victoria always loved to swim, so I guess being able to enjoy herself in a lake was a dream for her.

~~

Rain. Every day, nothing but rain. I was sick to death of it. Also probably sick, as my head felt fuzzy. My cloak was doing what it could, but even it could not protect me from the near endless downpours. The constant rains had made me lose patience with our journey, and I just felt like going back home and forgetting the whole thing. But every time I felt that, by some coincidence, one or both of my wolf blooded escorts would pop their heads out and calm me down.

~~~

Reynald was close. So close, I could see it on the horizon. The stone walls cast a grand image on the skyline, and there was a large building rising up from behind them. The duke’s manor. It was similar to the one in Baskerville, but larger. I imagined the size was mainly for show, like a lot of things nobles do.

With our goal so close at hand, I was reinvigorated. The fuzziness in my head seemed to fade, and I convinced the mare to trod faster. The splish splash of the wheels in puddles and mud began to get faster and faster, and soon we were flying down the road. The bumps in the road got my friends to look out, wondering why I was going so fast. At the sight of Reynald, they too wished for the mare to hurry. With might and fury, the mare pushed hard, as if even she knew the end was so tantalizingly close.

All three of us were laughing we were so excited to almost be done with this journey. Well, the first part, at least. There would still be the return, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. For now, we were elated. Closer and closer to the city we grew, and bigger and brighter our smiles became. I swear the horse even let out a triumphant whinny.

With one final burst, we reached the gates. Standing outside were two wolfish men, while on top the gate were a handful of human archers, their crossbows trained on our wagon.

One of the wolf guards came up to the wagon slowly, one hand gripped tight on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “State your name and purpose,” he shouted over the rains.

I shouted my response in kind, and the wolf looked back to his fellow guard. The two shared some silent conversation before they both waved to the archers up above. Shortly after, the iron gate began to rise, allowing us entry. But before I could snap the horse to walk, the first guard gestured for me to hop down from the driver’s seat.

“We welcome you, Father,” he said once I had stepped close. “I hope your journey was a fine one. Bishop Crowley is currently busy, so he won’t be able to meet until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“So long as we can sit by a fire, I don’t care how long he takes,” I joked. He gave a chuckle in response and waved me along as I walked with the mare through the gate.

Once inside the gate, I drank in the sight of Reynald. Capital of the southlands, home of Duke Hoderick, station of Bishop Crowley. It was everything I imagined it to be. Well, almost. In my head, I had imagined grand sprawling archways, towering columns, vast streets filled to the brim with homes and shops. It had the archways and columns, but they were nowhere near as large as my mind had thought up. The streets were certainly packed with buildings, however. Looked to me like you couldn’t hold your arm out in front of you without hitting some sort of construction.

Cobbled streets spanned as far as the eye could see. From the road, the protective walls surrounding Reynald didn’t seem like much, but now that I was behind them, I almost wondered if they ever ended. I couldn’t even see the opposite side of the city, the place was so massive. Even from the entrance, though, I could make out the top of the duke’s manor. Stonework and masonry, and likely bursting at the seams with all manner of useless trinkets and expensive wastes of time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even dreamed of a place this huge,” I thought out loud. With the rain still dropping on me, I elected to walk the horse around and try to spot a tavern or inn we could stay at while here. Hopefully, the bishop could meet sooner rather than later, as I noticed my coin purse was feeling a slight bit lighter.

I heard a thump from behind me, and then Victoria and Garland were walking at my sides. Without realizing it, I had neglected to get cloaks for them before setting out, so they now had to face the rain as I had done for the majority of this entire trip. Some small part of me was amused by this.

The two were taking in the sights as I had done, and were equally as shocked as I. None of us had ever been too far away from home before, so naturally none of us ever saw a place as grand as this.

“Look at those fountains,” Victoria pointed out.

“And these shops are giants,” Garland added.

“Don’t forget how long the streets go on,” I chimed in.

On that corner, an odd statue. By that street lamp, some men repairing a busted wagon wheel. Over there near a shop, a wandering cat. The three of us went back and forth on just about everything we saw, from the most mundane to the amazing. Place some know-nothing country folk in the middle of a big city, and of course they’d be a little out of their element. What few people were walking the streets paid us little mind. Seeing as this was the home of a large number of clerics, it wasn’t surprising. We probably blended in more than we stood out.

Eventually, we came across an inn. And right next door was a stable for horses and wagons. Certainly nothing more than coincidence. Inside the stable was an older man currently busying himself feeding the horses. He introduced himself as the proprietor of this fine horse house and quoted us a reasonable price to keep ours here. I paid the owner of the stable his fee, then sighed as I examined my coin purse. I did not know how long we’d be here in Reynald, so I decided we wouldn’t spend out money willy nilly. Every crown spent from here on out would need to be carefully considered.

While walking within the inn, we were greeted to the sound of a roaring fire. Even from the entrance, I could feel some of its warmth, and it was already doing wonders to chase away the wet coldness of the rain. The interior of the inn was rather cozy looking. The first floor held that delicious warmth burning in stonework fireplace. Leading outwards away from the fire sat an assortment of tables and the like, a few patrons talking amongst themselves, playing card games, eating, and what have you. A few of the patrons looked our way when we walked in, but quickly forget us. Just like the people in the streets. It was so different from Blackthorne, where I knew almost everyone in town. People would happily greet one another and give a smile and wave. Here, no one seemed to pay any mind to others, just going about their own business entirely on their own.

Placed almost haphazardly around the room were some braziers, their hot coals keeping those spots further away from the fireplace from getting too cold. Twin staircases ran up towards the second floor, and situated between them was a simple wooden desk. The desk was occupied by a rather tired looking woman with a noticeable roundness to her stomach. She was currently looking through a book--likely the ledger, if I had to guess--and didn’t seem to notice us until we were already right in front of her. When she finally looked up, she jumped in surprise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How can I help you?” By her voice, she certainly did seem tired. It sounded as if she hadn’t slept in a few days. Now that we were close, I could even see heavy bags under her eyes, confirming my assumption.

My rust colored escort took charge. “Yes, we’d like two rooms. One with a big enough bed for these two,” he said, jabbing this thumb towards me and Victoria. Immediately, I dragged him aside. I explained about how we needed to conserve what money we can. He just gave me an odd look and then, “I was thinking more about privacy. I don’t wanna get between you and Victoria.”

I paused. I didn’t even think about that until now. On one hand, it was considerate of him to have that in mind. On the other hand, two rooms would be more costly. Meanwhile, Victoria popped up beside me.

“He has a point,” she said, agreeing with Garland. “How many crowns do we actually have, anyway?” Before I could respond, she simply placed her head on my shoulder and looked down into my open coin purse, counting what was inside. “Hey,” she said, turning her attention to the tavern woman, “how much does a room cost?”

“Six crowns per night.” She huffed out, probably wondering what was taking us so long.

From my count, taking into account daily meals, we would have enough to stay for a little over a week. But, what then of the return trip? Do we save as much now to be able to have as much as possible for the ride back home? Could we ask the bishop for a little extra before we departed? No, I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries like that, not to mention how rude it would come across. While I was debating within my own head, Victoria snatched the purse away from my hands and bought two rooms. I began to tell her off for just spending the money without serious consideration, but she and Garland teamed up and said it would be better this way. In truth, I wasn’t all too upset over it.

The woman reached underneath the desk, and in doing so let out a short moan of discomfort. She pulled out a second book and turned to a page towards the end. “Here we go,” she said after finding whatever she was searching for. “We have two nice little rooms on the third floor. Should be perfect for you.” Pulling out a pencil, she asked us to sign our names for the rooms, and after some quick scribbles, suggested that if we had a horse or wagon, we could place them in the stable next door run by her brother. A piece of me felt a bit smug over my earlier assumption about the placement of the two businesses.

Finally, we ascended the stairs and made out way to our lodgings. Garland’s room was a few doors down from our own, and he quickly disappeared within. As told, our room was rather nice. The bed was pushed up against the wall right underneath the window, with a small clothing chest off to the side. The bed looked bigger than my own, and was covered in soft fabrics that had a freshly-cleaned scent to them. A little mirror on top the chest was the only other item of interest. It was a simple room, likely used for short stays in the city. I didn’t imagine it was a place people stayed at for long stretches of time.

Powerful arms pulled me into a body covered in coarse fur. The warmth enveloped me, and I let out a long sigh. Victoria snickered and rested her chin on top my head, mumbling something I couldn’t hear. We stayed like that for a bit, just enjoying the closeness. Breaking free from her grasp, I pulled her along to the bed, where I made her lay down. Slowly and carefully, I began to unbuckle, untie, and remove her leather armor. With each piece taken away, she fidgeted a bit more, until finally she was laid bare to me. Well, bare of a sorts.

Even without the leathers, her skin was still hidden away beneath her fur. But, I didn’t care. I ran my fingers through the rough hairs, sinking my nails in and scratching lightly. As I ran my hands across her chest, I noticed how her nipples were hidden beneath the fur. My wolf blooded love let out little moans and coos of delight, obviously enjoying the attention. I worked my hands around every available part of her body, giving her some strange form of massage. When I got to her thighs, I intentionally avoided her now glistening cavern.

“More,” she begged, opening her legs, trying to entice me.

I ignored her plea, and worked my way lower, down her legs. Her clawed toes wiggled as I ran my fingers around them. The little pads on the soles of her feet felt strange, like rubbing against sandpaper, but softer. As I wormed my fingers back up, Victoria again tried to get me to play with her sex, but I refused. This was all a game. To see how long she could last before giving in to her own need. She did not know this, of course, which just made it all the more fun for me.

Slowly, I dug my fingers into her fur and poked and prodded her, reaching to that still soft skin beneath. She squirmed and protested, yet still I did not give her what she wanted. I smiled through my teeth as I gave her this pleasurable torture. Suddenly, she snapped. She sat up quickly and forced me down, pinning me beneath her. I didn’t even attempt to fight back, for I knew where this was going. I tried to suppress my smile, but try as I might, it still found its way to pop up.

Without warning, Victoria used her claws to rip off my trousers, tearing them apart and throwing the remains aside. She repeated this gesture to my tunic, leaving me just as naked as she. A crooked grin eased onto her muzzle and she bent down to lick at my exposed skin, her tongue warm. Similarly to myself, she would go around my body, licking and sometimes nipping, but avoiding giving attention to the slowly hardening part. She always came so agonizingly close to the rigid pole, but would retreat before her tongue could so much as whisper against it. She was clearly attempting to force me to beg as she had, but I wasn’t allowing her to win.

I was actually quite enjoying this, so much so I almost didn’t notice when she coiled her tongue around my member. Feeling the wet muscle circle around sent shivers over my body, and I froze up when her muzzle opened and took my entire length. The tiny pinpricks from her teeth worried me enough to make me wilt, but she remedied this by using her tongue wonderfully. The way it roamed about, how it circled around and rubbed the entire shaft, it all sent me into ecstasy.

I brought a hand up to rub at the spot behind one of her ears, which made the wolf blooded woman let out a little hum. The vibrations went through me, adding onto the already amazing pleasure. A large rough hand found mine, and our fingers interlocked. Just the way her hand felt in mine brought a large smile to my face. Not even the small little pains from her teeth could tear away my smile.

Her dull green eyes locked onto mine, and through the love and care within, I could see a deeper, more animalistic hunger. She may have been playing along before now, but in that moment, I knew she was done messing about. She pulled her head up, freeing me from her muzzle with an almost obscene sounding pop, and licked her way up my body once more. As she captured my lips, I felt her body shift until she was straddling me, her muscular furred thighs so wonderfully soft against my hips.

As she raked her claws down my chest, so light it was like feathers, she began to grind our hips together. Her movements caused her sex to run along my length. As it was trapped between our bodies, it began to become slick with her juices. I hissed through my teeth when she reached down and rubbed my member against her entrance. But, not once through all of this, not a single second, did her eyes leave mine.

And finally, just before she lowered her pelvis down and forced us to join together, in a hushed voice she breathed out, “Mine.”

Once our hips touched, we both let out groans of immense pleasure and happiness now that we were finally together again. Slowly, she began to bounce herself on top of me, placing her padded palms on my chest for balance. Her depths entwined me, tightening and releasing in such a way I couldn’t help but moan her name. I pulled myself up, hugging my wolf lover to me, feeling her coarse hairs against my face. The room began to smell of our sex, and it only drove us further on.

Stars began to appear in the corners of my vision, and I could feel myself throb, the need to release becoming harder to stave off. Refusing to let this end just yet, I pulled out of my lover, and before she had time to protest, I thrust back in, hilting myself in one. I repeated this motion, over and over, causing little mewls to come from Victoria. Faster and faster I thrust, slamming our bodies together. Victoria’s arms wound around me, pulling me as tight as possible to her as I took charge.

Our breaths became ragged, coming out in bursts as we were reaching the climax. At the height of our frenzy, my wolf lover lowered her head and bit into my shoulder, stifling a scream. Through grunts and moans, our rapture came, sending white hot energy careening through our minds and bodies alike. Once the aftershocks passed by, we pulled apart, and almost immediately Victoria realized what she did.

As she examined the bite mark, the blood seeping out, and the bit of blood in her mouth, she stammered, “By Myrrah, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t meant to, I just got so caught up in the moment and wasn’t thinking and I…”

I placed the tip of a finger against her muzzle, silencing her. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. You didn’t even bite all that hard.” As I said this, she raised up a hand and began to rub at the small wound. Honestly, it looked worse than it actually was. Maybe two or three of her teeth actually punctured skin, the rest just left little indentations. I grabbed her hand, my own feeling small by comparison, and kissed the back of her palm and then each knuckle.

“It’s fine,” I repeated.

We wrapped our arms around one another and just held on, embracing the moment. Slowly but surely, I could feel myself hardening again, and as my lupine love became aware of it, she let out a sensual growl. She lowered herself down onto her back, pulling her legs apart in invitation, which I readily accepted. We were both still sensitive down there, so I took things slow, only pressing myself into her and holding. While the sensitivity lessened, Victoria ran her hands across my back and she kissed the bite mark, licking the wound.

Once we were ready to begin once more, I felt furry legs cross against my back, and Victoria pulled me in, signifying her need. Wasting no time, I hammered into her, forcing moans and squeals of bliss to come from the wolf woman. A loud boom of thunder froze us both in a brief moment of fear, but when we did, her inner depths tightening in a vice grip. It was almost painful how tight it was, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that feeling.

When that flash of panic left, I rubbed at her hip and asked, “Can you do that again?”

“Do what again?”

When I explained the tightness from the thunder, the she wolf smiled and tried to recreate that feeling. The minute or two she attempted to do so were an enjoyable time for me, as she was able to make her walls move and shift in a way I wasn’t expecting. Eventually, she figured out how to make herself close around me, and I let out a happy grunt and started thrusting again.

We once again got into a passion fueled frenzy, our voices growing louder with the increasing pleasure. The legs hooked around me tightened as the milking sensation on my length sped up until becoming so tight as to where I was unable to continue moving. I was unable to hold out any longer and the dam burst open. With bodies shaking in the aftermath, we collapsed into a heap. Our pillow talk afterward was mostly mumbles and almost completely unintelligible. Eventually, we grew too tired to the point we just drifted off to sleep.

~~~

The pitter patter of rain greeted my ears as I opened my eyes. There, lying against me, and with her entire body wrapped around me and hugging me close, was my wolf lover Victoria. My face was resting in the tuft of fur on her chest, and I was held in an almost fetal position against my love. When I tried to get up, she made an unpleasant noise and squeezed me tight. Rather than fight, I settled down and waited for her to release me on her own. It took some time, time enough for the drizzle outside to end and allow the sun to shine through the clouds, but she eventually let go.

“Morning, love,” I softly said, holding her face in my hands. I planted a kiss on the end of her muzzle and then began to dress.

She seemed to entertain herself by watching me clothe myself, her eyes going over ever part of me. It almost felt eerie, as she never blinked while eyeing me. As I was lacing up my boots, she began to stretch with her arms over her head, her chest pushed outwards. I could hear a slight popping sound from the joints in her back, and she let out a rather satisfied sound then followed my example and dressed.

She reached for her leathers, but I halted her. I made sure to get some normal clothing for her before leaving Blackthorne. While she may be working as my escort, we were now in the home of the Church, so she wouldn’t need to wear only her guard uniform. The outfit she picked was a simple blue frock with white trim. I’d done the liberty of cutting a hole for her tail.

After looking at herself in the mirror, she turned to me, her ears perked up. “I love it,” she exclaimed. With her settled, I left the room with a sack of clothing, heading down the hall to Garland’s room. I knocked on the door, but he did not answer. Trying the knob, I found it unlocked. The inside looked much the same as our room. Also, it was empty of one rust furred wolf.

“Can I help you?” The voice was directly behind me. I turned to see Garland carrying a small plate of beef and eggs, an eyebrow raised in question. I presented him the clothes, which he seemed wary of. After checking the bag, he huffed and disappeared into his room. He returned only a minute later, dressed in the green tunic and gray trousers, which also had a tail hole. Rolling his eyes, he followed me back to my room, where the three of us got our things ready, then set out.

~~~

“I’m sorry, Father, but the bishop is currently holding a meeting with a representative from the capital. He will be unable to meet with you until he is done.”

Such was the line we were given by the guards outside the monastery.

We’d left the inn and gotten a little lost trying to find the residence of the clerics. A local realized we had no idea where we were going and offered to guide us. He was a kind man, and led us right to the front doors. The monastery was almost as big as a manor. Outside of its size, though, it wasn’t exactly impressive. A large stone square, no statues outside, no garden, no columns. There were openings for windows--no glass, oddly--placed evenly around to show where rooms were. It was impressive in how unimpressive it was. Respectable, even.

A few guards were stationed outside the wooden front doors. Ordinary men, not wolves. The three of us all found this peculiar. Then again, when one considers the archers at the gates, it wasn’t all too strange. They were likely here on orders from the duke, as their armor was nice looking iron and metals, nothing like the leathers the Church wolves use.

After explaining my summons to the guards, they gave us the line about his current meeting. One of them did add, “You are free to enter, however. Just keep in mind, you will likely not see Bishop Crowley. I doubt he’ll have time until later in the evening.”

While I understood and recognized this possibility, I still felt dispirited. I had come all this way, after all, so some childish part of me just wanted to get this over with now and go back home as soon as possible. The blow wasn’t as hard as it could have been, since we weren’t turned away entirely. I decided to take up the offer to explore the monastery at my leisure. Walking up the steps, I felt a lack of familiar presences at my sides. Looking back, I saw my escorts remaining outside.

“Is everything alright?”

Garland shrugged. “No offense, but I kinda want to see the city by myself. Besides, you’re probably safer in there than out here.” Then, he turned and walked off, disappearing after taking a corner.

I focused my attention to Victoria, silently questioning if she also wished to explore the city. She seemed to understand the look in my eyes, and gave a quick nod as if in answer. While I would have preferred to have her with me, I didn’t want to force her. I gave a smile and waved her off as she too left to experience Reynald for herself.

Since I didn’t have much of interest in the city itself, I returned to my own task of walking the monastery. It was just as I expected from seeing the exterior. Red brick halls and rooms. Simple wooden furniture where it was needed. Nothing fancy, no expensive or pointless knick knacks. Every room I passed seem to serve a particular function. One room appeared to be a lecture hall, a few living quarters here and there, a library and more. Everything had a purpose here.

Also, unlike the city dwellers, several of those who wandered the halls here greeted me politely. Some referring to me by title, others just giving a kind hello. It reminded me of home, and set me as ease. I even attended a midday sermon. The leading priestess gave a little speech at the end of the scripture reading, where she mentioned the struggle we all have with personal matters, but to not let those personal issues get in the way of doing the right thing, to not let temptation overtake us and taint our souls. Afterwards, all of us attendance said a collective prayer for the safekeeping of the country.

Many wolves also wandered the halls, some garbed in the usual guard outfit, while others in the robes and vestments of the clergy. Curious, I thought to myself. Why would they dress as clerics? As far as I was aware, wolves are fighters and demon hunters. It was their charge for taking the holy blood. Because of my thoughts, I paid little attention to where my feet took me, which was right into a dark haired priest. The folders and papers he was holding scattered when we collided.

I shook myself to focus, and began to help pick up his belongings. “I’m sorry about that,” I apologized. “Wasn’t looking where I was going, I guess.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, grabbing the nearby papers. Once we got everything back in order, he smiled and thanked me. He looked me over and then stated, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a new priest?”

“I am. But, not from here.” When he titled his head curiously, I explained further. “I’m from down south in Blackthorne.”

“Ah, well then,” he said, sticking a hand out in a friendly gesture. “Name’s Arthur. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Richter,” I responded, taking his hand and giving a firm shake. Behind Arthur, a wolf in robes walked by. Wondering about this, I decided to ask.

“Oh, they’re clerics like us. Some of the clerics decided they wanted to join the hunters, and when they’re not on active duty, they just go back to their normal lives here in the monastery.” He then gave me a strange look. “Don’t you have anyone like that in Blackthorne?”

I had to confess that it was only me and Father MacDonald who ran the church in the town. “I guess it never crossed my mind that a priest would decide to make the change like that.” I suppose it wasn’t too far fetched. Our books have more records of demons than most people understand, so thinking on it, it made sense a priest would want to fight them more than other people.

Something was bothering me, so I decided to get it out of the way. “By the by,” I began, “what do all the priests here do? I can’t imagine all of you do the typical church activities, yea?”

Arthur laughed. “No, certainly not. We all have our own jobs, though. Most of my work is in the archives, for instance. Some of the others work around town, general upkeep and the like. Others teach and train new priests and priestesses. The majority of the people here are undergoing training, and once that’s done, a lot of them leave Reynald to go off somewhere else.”

Arthur walked with me, or rather I followed him, to some sort of studying room. I had offered to help carry some of the load, but he turned me down, saying it wasn’t all that heavy anyways. The room was pretty barren, only having a collection of desks for reading, and not much else. Probably to ensure there were as few distractions as possible. Arthur placed everything down on one such desk, then took a seat.

“I’m going to be here for a bit,” he said before unleashing a short yawn. “I have a few reports I need to comb through.”

“Reports? What, like from the hunters?”

“Sort of,” he answered with a nod. “Some of these,” he said, patting the papers in front of him, “are from our friends in the north. We’ve been hearing rumors about a rise in demon and sorcerer activity. But, I also have some papers in here about donations and the like. I usually take care of all of this as soon as we get the letters and all, but I’ve been running around the last few days, so things just piled up.”

“Oh. Well, would you like some help going through them?” Admittedly, this was more of time waster for me until I could see the bishop. However, the stack of papers did seem rather large, and I figured he might like the assistance.

He shook his head. “No, I can handle this. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Alright. See you around, then.” With nothing better to do, I resumed wandering the halls.

~~~

Eventually, I found myself in a little yard behind the monastery. It was a tiny garden surrounding a table. The grey sky above reflected my mood. Without my friends, I was finding it hard to find anything to pass the time. The library held dozens of different copies of every holy text and whatnot, maps of the country, books on the study of demons and magic. All in all, several of these I’d already read during my training. The ones that were new to me interested me not, and I couldn’t find the willpower to read through them without feeling like doing anything else.

So, I was outside beneath a miserable sea of grey. While I was busying counting bricks in a nearby wall, I heard someone coming my way. It was one of the guards from the entrance. He looked sweaty in his iron armor, even in this cool weather. I didn’t envy having to wear such an awful thing.

“Father,” he said, standing at attention, “I’ve been searching for you. If you will please follow me, I shall bring you to see Bishop Crowley.”

I shot up quickly, almost fumbling over the table in my haste. Finally, I’d know what this whole thing was even about. I followed the guard down halls, up stairs, until we came to an open door on the fourth floor. Old worn wood opened onto a room housing a large desk with stacks of papers on top. On the sides of the room were shelves containing a random assortment of books, jars of I don’t even know what, what looked to be a glass container of holy water, and even a silver blade leaning against one of the shelves. Sitting at the desk was an old wolf.

You could plainly see his age, even from where I was at the door. Once coarse fur had thinned with time, and even dulled in color. It was obvious he had been a red wolf, but now his fur looked the brownish-orange color of dead leaves. He wore a purple surcoat, its edges frayed. He was currently scribbling something down into a notebook of sorts. I was so caught up, I didn’t even notice the guard had left me standing in the doorway alone. I cleared my throat, causing the old wolf to flinch slightly before looking up.

“Bishop Crowley?”

“Indeed,” the wolf responded. His voice sounded tired. Likely he only just got out of that meeting I was told about. He’d been having it since before I showed up in the morning, and it was currently well into the afternoon. “How can I help you, my son?”

A lump was in my throat. I coughed again. “I’m Richter, from Blackthorne. You summoned me?”

“Richter…” he trailed off. He mumbled my name a few times. “Oh, that’s right! Christopher’s student.” It wasn’t often I’d heard Father MacDonald’s first name. Most everyone just called him by his title. “Please, come in. Come in.” He waved me in, and pointed out a small seat in the corner of the room, telling me to bring it opposite his desk.

As I sat down, I fumbled with my words a bit. I hadn’t expected to see a wolf in the position of bishop. No one told me. I just assumed him to be an older man like my mentor. He seemed to be able to read my face, however, and chuckled.

“Didn’t think you’d see a wolf, eh?”

“I...I’m sorry, the possibility never popped into my head.” I hoped that come across as rude.

He let out another chuckle, and it was dangerously close to becoming a full on laugh. “That’s everyone’s first reaction. Let’s just say, I realized my place wasn’t battling demons head on, and I settled on something different, but equally as important.”

Relief swept through me. I was so glad I hadn’t insulted the bishop, especially after he so kindly didn’t excommunicate me. “So, why did you summon me, Bishop?”

An odd noise escaped him. “First of all, there’s no need for formality. Call me Liam. Secondly, what I wish to discuss has to do with your performance in Val.”

Oh.

“To start off, I congratulate you on your success. I take it that was your first time encountering a sorcerer? You handled it reasonably well.”

I gave a silent nod.

“Now then, allow me to say that one, you should not have been there in the first place. You were not trained for it, and as such, had no place being sent. And two, you got lucky.”

What? “What do you mean, lucky?”

“Alistair was young, and too inexperienced with the power granted to him. He did not yet have the knowledge to cause serious problems. Had he been older or had his contract been formed a few months prior, I am willing to guess you would not be here to have this conversation.” He looked me dead in the eye then, his stare nearly ice cold. “Therefore, you got lucky.”

I was floored. While I knew I hadn’t done things perfectly, it never before occured to me just how much worse things could have gone. “I don’t know what to say,” I managed to stammer out after a minute

A hand came up to rub at his forehead. “You don’t need to say anything. Just listen.” He then retrieved a paper from a drawer. He looked it over before placing it down on top the desk. “We’ve been getting reports and rumors from the bishop in the north, and even some information from the capital, that there are a rising number of sorcerers and demons just beyond our northern borders. Salburn, our neighbors in the north have yet to do anything about this, which leads us to believe they might be in league with the demons.

“Because of this, I think it necessary that all current clerics be trained for combat. Christopher did not train you for battle, and I cannot fault him that. We’ve never really needed the clergy to do so before, but this rising threat worries me. I’d rather everyone be properly prepared for what is to come. So, you were summoned to begin further training.”

I slumped down in my chair as I digested this new information. It was a lot to take in. Some kind of sorcerer-demon army? Just the idea of it was insane and completely frightening. As I slowly began to come to terms with things, a thought occurred to me. “If that’s why I’m here, why didn’t you put that in your letter?”

Both eyebrows raised as he gazed at me once more. “Had I done so, would you have come of your own volition?”

I fell silent. Would I have shown up, knowing beforehand of this veritable dark army? After mulling it over, I could only come to one answer, “...I do not know.”

A short nod was the immediate response. “Regardless, you are here now. And before you say anything more, this is not up for debate. Your training shall begin tomorrow.”

Stunned, I remained in my seat. I was still working through what I’d been told. Even coming from the bishop’s own mouth, it was hard to believe. After all, what fool would ally themselves with demons and sorcerers? They’d just turn on you eventually. It would only be a matter of time. But this? What could I say? What could I do? If a horde was to come knocking on our doors, we would have no choice but to answer well-armed and prepared or risk losing all.

I was to undergo training for combat, but I wasn’t a fighter. I hardly even knew how to deal with Alistair, apparently, and it was essentially a stroke of luck I didn’t die. It was a good thing Eliza and Lucian were there to deal with that demon. I didn’t want to know what would have happened if we failed that night. The people of Val could very well have suffered a disaster.

The bish...Liam was waiting for something. He gave me a look that seemed to question if I had more to say. I tried to say something, anything that could explain why I was not the man for this, that I was no more than a simple priest. Nothing came to me. As if sensing this, Liam got up, joints popping as loud as thunder, and walked over to where I sat. He gave a sad smile then, somehow knowing my apprehension, my fear.

Fear. Yes, that is what it most definitely was. I was afraid more than anything. Afraid of this army. Afraid of not being able to fight them back if and when the time came. Afraid I’d fail my people, my country. If things were to the point ordinary priests and priestesses were made to be ready to act as warriors, what did that mean for us as a whole?

“My son, do not fret.” Liam’s words were soft, soothing almost. “Going through training does not mean you shall be thrust against any demons that happen to cross our borders. I simply want the common priest to be able to protect themselves should the need arise.” With slow steps, he walked over to the silver blade leaning against the nearby shelf, and stared into its near reflective surface, his back turned to me. “I have recently stumbled onto some old texts, long before my time, that tell of priests able to fight sorcerers as equals. They used certain miracles, blessings and the like to combat dark magics. The current miracles we use today are but a part of something greater. These older ways are what shall be taught again.”

A deep breath, then a pause before continuing. “The wolf blood grants strength to those who take it. Strength enough to fight demons head on. But, against sorcerers?” Another pause, and when he picked up again, his tone sounded melancholic almost. “Wolves have incredible strength, indeed.” The way he said that made it seem like he was unaware he even spoke, as his words were soft, almost a whisper. Perhaps he was speaking more to himself than to me.

He stood there for some seconds, staring intensely into that blade while lost in thought. When he turned to face me once more, his mood shifted, becoming a pleasant old man again. “Right then, I suggest you write a letter home. Best to keep them informed. Don’t want them worrying their heads over you, eh?” He then began sounding off directions to the courier’s office.

“Now then,” he said, wrapping up our little meeting, “is there anything you wish to discuss?”

Of course there was. I wanted to know everything I could about what was going on across our borders. Why would Salburn allow demons in their land? How were our northlanders handling the situation? What was our king doing about this? For that matter, what of our own Duke Hoderick? Did the people know about this? But, these would be answered in time, I told myself. The bishop was likely a very busy man, and our meeting was probably running long as is. I did wonder if there were other priests and priestesses he had to use this same tactic to bring them here to Reynald. Surely, I couldn’t have been the only one, but just how many had to be summoned? I decided to save these questions and more until some later date.

I stood up and thanked the bishop for this enlightening talk, but as I was heading out the door, he called out to me. “As I said, your training begins tomorrow. You are to return at dawn.” I repeated his order, more to myself than to him, and excused myself.

And so, I was back in the long brick hall, the door to the bishop’s office at my back. I would need to have quite a talk with Victoria and Garland, I decided.

~~~

The room was quiet. I had just finished telling my friends what Bishop Crowley told me. Like I had done, they were stunned, wide-eyed and confused. As soon as they returned, I hurried them into my room and explained the situation. And now, I sat there watching as the realization was hitting them. I’m sure my own face looked similar. First, the wide-eyed fear of the knowledge of a number of demons and sorcerers across the border. Then, the attempts to say something, only to close the mouth, unable to find their voice.

Eventually, Victoria managed to speak up. “By Myrrah.” Bringing one of her fuzzy hands up, she rubbed the back of her neck. “A-are we sure this is true?” Her eyes searched mine, as if asking for me to tell her this was a joke, some kind of awful gag. When I didn’t answer, her body let out a shiver of fear, her fur standing on end. “How could they? Those damnable fools.”

“This is insane! Those idiot Salburans,” Garland yelled, slamming a fist against the wall. It left a slight dent. “Don’t they understand what they’re messing with? Myrrah bless their souls, those demons are just going to happily slaughter them all if they get whatever they’re after.” He began to rant and rave, getting to the point where he started to hurt his own throat.

“Fools,” Victoria repeated. “Not even Myrrah can save them from their fate.” I could see her hands ball into fists of her own, squeezing tight in anger. Eyes narrows, nostrils flares, ears perked up. She was being infected by Garland’s rage and was beginning to let her own anger take over.

She too then began to yell over how stupid our northern neighbors were.

As she was winding down, she focused on me again. “You said the bishop mentioned older ways?”

“Yea,” Garland added, “what was that about?”

My shoulders shrugged. “No clue. He talked about how priests used to use miracles and blessings to fight sorcerers. Sounded like those ways were abandoned for some reason or another.” Honestly, it did seem strange. Why would the Church stop teaching comat?

Victoria produced a theory, “Maybe this was back before wolves were more common?”

An interesting idea, that. I didn’t know too much about the history of the wolf blood. None of the texts I’d studied mentioned it all too much. The history of the Church itself only goes back so far, and the books only mention wolves so often. Regardless, there was no use dwelling on it too much at the moment. Garland excused himself and headed to bed. Victoria and I crawled into our own and layed in silence for a time before finally falling asleep. With our minds fixated on the evil in the north, sleep took some time to reach us, though.

~~~

The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, ridding the dark blanket night from the sky. Unfortunately, the morning’s blanket wasn’t much brighter, still just a miserable grey. But, with the sun came the call of birds in the distance, and their happy little chirps sounding off. As I walked towards the monastery, I was joined by my escorts and friends, both looking half asleep. Fur stood on end every which way, ears drooped down, and shoulders hunched. I couldn’t really blame them, neither one was probably used to waking up so early. Even on our trip up here, we would set off every morning well after dawn, when all three of us were good and ready. Thankfully, my work at the church in Blackthorne needed me to wake early, so sleep’s fingers could not hold tight.

We found ourselves back at the monastery. In the early morning light, it still looked like a giant brick. I suppose there was no way it could look like anything else. The guards outside were kind enough to open the doors for us, their iron armor making little noises as they did so. Admittedly, I had no idea where I was to report to, so we spent a good few minutes walking about until I decided to give up and ask someone.

I was told to head the a room downstairs. Apparently, there was an underground segment I hadn’t even known about the prior day. Somehow, I completely failed to notice its existence. The stairs descending to this area were located down a long hall. I saw a few other priests and priestesses making their way down the hall.

“You think all of them are here for this training, too?” mused my orange colored friend. He ran his claws through his fur, trying to look presentable. I assumed he did this not wanting others to think less of him. He did, however, choose to come dressed in some of the clothes I got for him, leaving his armor behind. It was a small gesture, but it made me feel like he appreciated the clothes more than he’d admit.

I clicked my tongue. “Maybe. The bishop did say he wanted to make sure priests could take care of themselves.” We fell in line behind a group of clerics, slowly making our way towards the door, then eventually down the stone steps.

The walls closed in a bit, making people unable to walk beside one another, forcing everyone to form a near straight line as we all descended. It also got a bit colder as we walked. I imagined the Church kept certain foods and drinks down here, and this was confirmed as we passed an open door leading to a room housing meads and wines. Just the thought of mead made me wish I had some of Father MacDonald’s batch.

Things got quiet once he hit the bottom. All the talking ahead of us stopped, and even the people behind us seemed to notice this and silenced themselves. The walls were still a tight fit, but we kept going, ending up in a very large room. This one was not made of the same bricks as the rest of the building. Instead, the room was carved from a different stone, almost black in color, and it went around the whole room. Walls, ceiling, and floor were this new stone. Some braziers were placed around, lighting up the area, revealing seven clerics in the middle of the room; four men and three women. These were older people, likely approaching their fiftieth years. On each of their right hands was strapped a small iron shield emblazoned with an image of the moon, one of the symbols of Mother Myrrah. In their left hands, they each held a leather bound book.

The woman in the middle of the group took a few silent steps forward. She was short, almost as tiny as Victoria’s mother. Brown hair had been pulled into a neat little bun on the top of her head. She had what some might call a button nose, and her mouth curved upwards, giving her the appearance of a constant smile.

She passed her gaze through the crowd of clerics that had entered the room, then spoke. “Brothers and sisters of the faith, you were called here to begin your training to be able to fight against magic, to push back sorcerers and their unholy powers.” Her voice echoed back from the stones, making her seem louder than she really was. She held up the book, holding it up high for all to see, and explained, “This book contains records of old miracles no longer in common usage. You shall each be given a copy. Through your training, you shall study these miracles, learn how to use them, how they function. Down to the most minute detail, you shall understand them, and through them learn the old ways.

“I understand many of you may not feel ready to undertake this task, but fret not.” She then gestured to the clerics standing behind her. “We all have learned from these records, and we shall guide you on this path. If we old folk can do it, I guarantee all of you can, as well.” This actually alleviated some of the tension in the air, everyone letting out a collective sigh of relief.

One of the older men stepped up then. He seemed to be about my height, possibly a tad bit taller. His auburn hair was meticulously combed, not a hair out of place. Puffing his chest out, he began his own announcement, “Through your training, you shall learn not only these old miracles, but also defensive combat.” He then gestures towards the shield on his arm. “Your shield shall be just as valuable to you as your holy might. By using them both in tandem, you shall become immovable in the face of magic. You shall become like the mighty walls that surround our fair city.”

Listening to these two clerics actually swayed me. Before, I wasn’t entirely convinced I could even do this. I was but one man, with the most basic of knowledge when it comes to fighting. All I knew came from history texts on old wars and battles long before my time. But, hearing them talk changed that conviction. I felt that, with their help, I could become something better, something greater.

I was ready to begin.

~~~

The cloak of night blackened the sky. The pale eye of Myrrah was half closed up high, watching down on her children. And her children were preparing for an event, one that only comes once a year. Winter was ending, and spring was just around the corner, so tonight was the celebration of the new age. And I was to give the opening speech to begin our celebration. I’d prepared for a full week just for this, planning out each word.

But now that the time was here, I was getting nervous. My throat felt tight, my legs shook, my palms sweaty. In the back of my mind, I knew the people of Blackthorne wouldn’t be too critical of my words, but I couldn’t help but feel so self-conscious. And I didn’t even know why. After all, I had given sermons plenty of times before, why would I be bothered with a different form of public speaking?

Probably because tonight, I was to speak to the entire town, essentially. My sermons before were just to those in attendance, and not everyone in town was particularly religious, so our church gatherings didn’t always have the pews filled up. But tonight’s celebration was for the whole town, at an event everyone took part in. Plus, I’d never given the new year’s speech before, so if I messed up, I would have everyone to witness my failings.

As I was trying to calm my nerves, the sound of familiar footsteps approached. Heavy steps made their way next to me, and then a reassuring hand rested on my shoulder. Turning my head, I looked to see Father MacDonald, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers. A shock of gray hair sat upon his pale head, and his large spectacles made his eyes seem enormous. Pronounced laugh lines marked his cheeks, clear signs of his usual demeanor. He had been my mentor for years prior, up until he fully anointed me as a priest some months back. Even though I was no longer his student, I still turned to him for guidance when I needed it.

He gave me a warm smile as he patted my shoulder, then asked, “Nervous?”

Trying to be nonchalant, I simply shrugged my shoulders in response.

He clearly saw through that, however. He always did. “You know, I figured you’d be used to talking to a crowd by now. Your sermons are almost always perfect. What’s so different this time?”

Letting out a breath, I admitted, “I’m just so used to you giving the new year’s speech. Why’d you want me to do it?”

He opened his arms wide, gesturing around to the town around us. For tonight, people had decorated their homes and shops with little ornaments and trinkets. Some used small idols of Myrrah, others used colorful banners or posters and the like. The center courtyard of town held tables full of food and drink for all to enjoy, and the large statue of Myrrah had incense and other sweet smelling things burning beneath her glory. Even the town’s protective walls had been adorned with banners and flags.

After allowing me to take in the sights, the old priest responded, “Tonight is about celebrating the new. I figured tonight’s little speech could use a different voice this time. Besides,” he added, patting my shoulder once again, “you have nothing to worry about. You’ll do fine. Relax, have a drink or two.”

Of course, in the back of my mind, I agreed with him. I’d been rehearsing my lines over and over again, making sure I had every inflection, every syllable correct. Perhaps I had been overdoing it. After all, I’d held sermons and performed at various other celebrations; weddings, funerals, even helping bring in a newborn child or two. I admit, I was completely worried over nothing. Making a mountain out of a molehill and all those other phrases.

After nodding my head, I returned my mentor’s smile, which only served to make his own even brighter. “Now there’s the boy I trained. Come on, let’s go get us something to drink, eh?” With that, he draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me along with him as we walked to the courtyard tables.

Nearby, I took notice of a group of townsfolk setting up their instruments. There were drums, a flute, pipes, an accordian, a lute, a violin, a harp, and even that old hurdy-gurdy Lucian brought out every year. I was glad I could be here for the event. I had been worried a few weeks before if I would even make it in time for all this. My training up in Reynald was going well, but it had gone on longer than I at first assumed it would. I’d been up in that town for nearly the whole of winter. Surrounded once more by the familiar people and places I knew and loved, I felt more at ease now than I ever felt during my stay in Reynald.

Regardless, that was then, and I was home now, and tonight wasn’t about the past. Having finally reached the drink table, the old priest and I grabbed ourselves a tall mug of mead each and happily downed them. As the familiar taste of the tavern stock slid down my throat, it began to warm my soul, placing all my worries over my upcoming speech far away. The two of us shared several more drinks between us, passing jokes back and forth as we did so. Finally, after losing count of how much mead I’d had, I was relaxed. Relaxed enough to the point where I didn’t even notice when Father MacDonald began to usher me towards the small clearing ahead of us.

And so, there I was, standing in front of the whole town. I could see all the same faces I was used to seeing; my mother, my fiance Victoria and her family, Mikhael, Garland, Ol’ Red, the twins. All their eyes were on me, waiting for me to commence the beginning of the festivities. Even through the mild drunkenness, my nerves began to slither back, locking my legs and tightening my throat. Ok, I told myself, just take a breath and calm down, this is no different than a sermon.

I closed my eyes and reminded myself of what I rehearsed. Clearing my throat, I began, “Brothers and sisters of Blackthorne, we are gathered here to celebrate the new year. It is a time of change, of transition. Change may be strange and frightening, but tonight’s event is not one of mourning or worry. No, I say to you, stand tall and mock those fears. Though every new dawn brings its own struggles, we must not let our souls become overburdened. For remember, we do not fight alone. We have one another. And even still, Mother Myrrah smiles upon us always. Tonight, we celebrate with good drinks, warm food, and wonderful friends. We shall ring in the start of the new year with cheers and laughter, proudly facing whatever tomorrow may bring.”

I clenched a fist and raised it high, towards the starry sky. “To the future!” A resounding cheer was fired back at me as everyone in turn raised their own fist. The encouragement was enough to convince me I indeed had been worried over nothing, so I decided to end my speech and set the night off right. “Now then,” I said, pointing towards those who were fiddling with their instruments, “how about some music?” The various musically inclined folk picked up their things and got to work filling the night air with the happy tones of their tools.

With the music going strong, the people of Blackthorne began to enjoy the night. The fast pace of the song invited those willing to dance, while the others began to take part in festival games. One of the classic games I always looked forward to was the grapple competition, and as usual, the majority of the wolves loved to take part. Watching them struggle to throw one another to the ground was a favorite pastime of mine, plus it didn’t hurt the rest of us would usually place bets on who would win. The first two up were Cilian and Edmund; a stout black wolf going up against a strong farmer. While Edmund lacked the raw strength the wolf blood would give a person, he never stopped trying every year to win the competition. Once, he even got far enough to make it to fifth place, where he was bested by the lovable leader of the guard, Mikhael.

Unfortunately for Edmund, the black wolfman was giving it his all, and soundly tossed him down with little effort. From the other side of the ring, I could both see and hear Edmund’s wolfish twin Eliza berate her brother for losing to a runt like Cilian. As the wolf in question walked out of the ring, his hands held high in victory, Eliza spit at him, the glob of liquid hitting him right in his eye.

As the crowd laughed, an all too familiar scent filled my nostrils. A smell of earthy musk covering a small touch of honeysuckle caused me to turn my head. Victoria was approaching, garbed in a form fitting dress, with a skirt that flowed down to her calves. Those wonderful dull green eyes of hers were staring right into my soul, and I could feel my feet taking me to to meet her. Her coarse black fur had been brushed and combed neatly, her claws filed down to make them less sharp. Her short ears swiveled this way and that, taking in all the noises of the festival, the music and people cheering and laughing and enjoying themselves. As we met, her muzzle lifted into a smile, and I could see her tail fidgeting about behind her.

Seeing her in her dress made me feel a bit shabby in comparison. I had donned a rather plain tunic and vest, and I hadn’t even put in the effort to shave the last few days I was so concerned with my rehearsing, so my face was rather scruffy looking. Victoria didn’t seem to mind however, as she simply pulled me into a warm embrace. We stood there for a time just holding one another and enjoying the intimate moment, up until our resident musicians began to play a certain song. The song was slow, romantic, the violin playing solo to conduct couples old and young alike to meet their loved one arm in arm. And so, my wolf-blooded lover and I began to dance in time to the music.

We pressed ourselves tightly together, but the change in her height led to a minor moment of complication. In previous years, I had always taken the lead, seeing as Victoria was shorter than I. But our dance that night began a bit awkward, and it took some time before we managed to get our feet working in the proper coordination. Sure, we might have stumbled here or there, perhaps I accidentally stepped on her paw once or twice, but overall, it felt much the same as all our other dances. In fact, since my training in Reynald, I had put on a bit of muscle, so Victoria’s newly gained weight from partaking of the holy blood was much less noticeable. Of course, I’d never say such aloud. As the song began to wind down and our dancing came to a halt, I pulled Victoria’s muzzle down to meet my lips in a quick kiss.

She took a deep breath after we parted. “Love you,” she breathed out, bringing her furry cheek to nuzzle against my own.

“Love you, too,” I muttered, my arms circling back around her body again. We swayed steadily while the violin began to slow further and further until it went silent.

Just then, a new song started with a loud blare from the man playing the pipes, causing the two of us to flinch. The new song was fast paced, bringing with it every other instrument, along with the crowd clapping in time. Victoria eyed me pleadingly, batting her lashes at me, but I’d never been confident when it came to faster dancing, which she knew. If I went along with her, I’d probably end up making a fool out of myself. Then again, the night was about embracing the new, so I shrugged and allowed her to drag me along. I only partially embarrassed myself when I fell face first at some point. No one really paid much mind, so my pride wasn’t hurt as much as it could have been.

After my shewolf lover had her fill of dancing, we decided to get something to eat. The tables in the center of town had been fully furnished with all manner of things. Perfectly roasted meats, finely made soups and stews, the sweetest and freshest smelling breads, and of course who could forget the barrels of mead. Someone had even prepared a few deserts, nothing too out there or anything, but it was always nice to know a certain blacksmith liked to dabble in the art of baking at least once a year. While Victoria and I were selecting our food, her brother Roderick sidled up beside me to pick a slice of cake away before vanishing into the night.

There were some tables that had been set up for people to sit and rest at, so I found a spot for Victoria and I to enjoy our meal. During our meal, the music quieted down once more, and I could see Lucian setting himself up on his chair. He began to turn the handle on his hurdy-gurdy, and it let out a sonorous tone. The shaggy brown wolf then started poking away at the little buttons, and the device began to let out a somber sound, a traditional mourning song in respect of all who could not make it through the year. As the music sounded, images of the dead began to creep into my mind, not just of the past year, but going as far back as my memory allowed.

Those who sacrificed their lives fighting demons and sorcerers, the ones who became too ill to continue on, the elderly, even a few children. Their faces swirled into the forefront of my mind as Lucian played, each deep note bringing another face in view. I noticed everyone around stopped their usual festival activities to listen in, everyone equally mourning the loss of their loved ones. I even saw tears roll down a few cheeks. When the song ended, the whole of Blackthorne took a moment of silence before the more cheerful music began to bring the festive mood back.

“It was a beautiful song,” I heard Victoria mumble out, her voice threatening to crack.

Indeed it was. Every year it seemed to become more so.

~~~

Days after the festival, things had quieted down in Blackthorne, everyone having gone back to their usual routines and such. I had been keeping myself busy one afternoon cleaning the grounds outside the church when a courier arrived bearing a letter for the church. The letter held no seal, but the courier explained it came from New Hiron, a small village near the southern border. I thanked the man and retreated inside to bring this information to Father MacDonald. Together, we read the message.

It read as follows:

“To the faithful of Blackthorne, we request assistance. Several children have gone missing recently, and we suspect a sorcerer is behind it. These children are good kids, they would not just abandon their families without reason. Please, help us.”

A fire lit up in my soul, and my grip on the letter tightened, partially crumpling the paper. The mere thought of someone stealing away those children for some dark purpose made my blood boil. The older priest tried to calm me down by saying, “I’ll go and talk with Mikhael, have him send two or three wolves down and take care of this quickly. They’ll find those kids and…”

“I’m going with them,” I interrupted.

My mentor opened his mouth, then closed it. He apparently could not find the words for a second or so. “My son, just let them handle this,” he urged after his silent moment passed. “You haven’t been home even two weeks now. Don’t go running off again so soon.”

I saw the pleading in his eyes, and a part of me wanted to stay. But no, I told myself. There were children in need. What kind of man would I be if refused to use my newfound strength for the purpose it was forged?

“No, Father,” I responded. “I apologize, but I am going.” I then left the main hall of the church to go search in the back room for some supplies. Holy water, my stole, my dagger, and the shield and book of miracles I’d been gifted in Reynald. Behind me, I could hear Father MacDonald pacing about behind me while I looked for my things, possibly attempting to come up with a reason I shouldn’t go. As if on cue, as soon as I was done gathering my supplies, he got between me and the door.

“Richter, please,” he said, his tone sounding almost defeated, as if he knew he couldn’t change my mind. “The wolves know how to deal with things like this. They have the experience.”

I could feel a scowl grow on my face, so I closed my eyes and took a breath or two to calm myself. When I spoke again, I chose my words carefully. “With all due respect, Father, this is not your decision. I have been trained to deal with sorcerers. If one is indeed stealing children down south, I cannot, in good faith, stand by. I must put my training to use. Otherwise, what is the point of even having these skills?”

“Richter, I just...” He trailed off for a few moments, his eyes darting around as if the words he needed were written on the walls. Sighing and hanging his head, he moved out of the way. Before I left, however, he stopped me. From behind those spectacles of his, I saw the worry in his eyes. Perhaps even a slight bit of fear for my safety. “Just be careful, my son.”

I nodded, then gave the man a quick hug before setting off to see Mikhael.

It wasn’t a very long walk, honestly. Perhaps just a few minutes from the church.

~~~

The guard office, as one would call it, was located only a short walk from the church. Most days, Mikhael could be found there, even on his off days, so there was always a good bet to search for him there. It didn’t take me long to end up at the front door. The office itself was a rather simple place, much like all of Blackthorne. Stone walls supported by wooden beams marked the outside, and the door itself was old wood, almost as old as the church’s own doors. Pushing the door open, I felt the warmth of a fire greet me as I walked in. The scent of cooked meat hit me next, and I saw a portion of beef roasting above the fire.

Truthfully, I didn’t visit the office often, as usually Mikhael would come to the church and report to us directly about any demon activity the wolves dealt with. Because of this, I wasn’t familiar with the interior. In fact, since the last time I was there, things had changed slightly. The oak desk Mikhael usually worked behind had been shifted to the far side of the room, close to the fireplace. The small board with guard schedules posted to it was also moved to be closer to the door. I could practically reach out and touch the board it was so close now. Opposite the desk’s position was the door to the armory, a basement were replacement weapons and armors were kept, along with some minor medical supplies; salves, balms, bandages and the like.

From my left, I heard the familiar voice of the silver furred guard, “Can I help you, Richter?” Mikhael sat behind his desk, overlooking some papers.

I held up the letter from New Hiron. “We got a possible sorcerer abducting children down south.”

His eyes shot up, and his nostrils flared. A single hand curled into a fist. He then narrowed his eyes and asked, “Where?” I could practically feel his anger in that one word. After I explained the letter’s content, the wolfman shot up from his seat, and the wild look in his eyes made me take a step back. “Myrrah help anyone who dares lay a hand on children!” He then walked over to the guard schedule board, and after quickly looking it over said, “Lucian and Roderick have been asking about wanting to go on a patrol. This will be better.”

I moved in front of him when he started for the door. He gave me a questioning look, so I told him, “I’m going, too.” I straightened my back and looked him dead in the eye, not moving until he gave his response. He searched my eyes, staring right into me. When he finally responded, it was with a simple understanding nod. I politely opened the door for him and after he went through, followed him out to go inform the two wolven men of their assignment.

We didn’t say much during our walk. I was too wrapped up thinking about what possible reason a sorcerer would kidnap children. Possibly, so was Mikhael. I could never really read him most of the time, as he usually kept his cool and presented a very stoic face. Considering his near outburst earlier, though, it wasn’t exactly difficult to tell what his mind was on. Thinking on said outburst, I was a bit surprised he didn’t wish to come along himself. Perhaps he was excusing himself for fear his anger would get the best of him? Regardless, I didn’t want to pry into his mind. If he wished to tell me, he would.

While following behind Mikhael, I noticed a few of the townsfolk stop and stare at us going by. For whatever reason, they seem intrigued. Perhaps it was some look on either of our faces? Some kind of determined appearance in our postures? Maybe it was the fact I had my shield strapped to my arm, and they were a tad worried? Whatever the case may have been, people stared in silence, just watching. I tried to appear less stiff in my movements, hoping to at least set some of the people at ease. This only served in making me overthink how I walked, trying to make sure each step wasn’t too fast or slow, not too loose in the knee, not too stiff. The leader of the guard didn’t pay me any mind, and began to get ahead of me to the point I nearly lost him. By the grace of Myrrah, he stopped after he turned a corner, finally at his destination.

A stone building with wooden posts for support. A slightly dirty window right beside the front door, which itself looked like it could use some repair. Even from this side of said door, the smell of leather could be detected coming from inside. A small post outside held a wooden sign painted with the image of a black boot underneath the word “Irwin’s.” It was the shoemaker’s place. Once upon a time, Lucian worked alongside his father every day mending and creating shoes for the fine folk of Blackthorne, right up until he partook of the wolf blood. Since then, he didn’t spend much time at home, leaving his father to tend the shop himself most days. But, Lucian did spend his off days helping his father out.

Mikhael looked at me from the corner of his eyes before stepping inside, and I followed after. Once in, we were greeted to the sight of a large table with all manner of leather, nails, some hides, even a few completed shoes and boots. On opposite ends of the table were Lucian and his father, both working diligently on separate pairs of boots. At the sound of our entrance, the father-son team gave us a double take before stopping their work.

Irwin spoke first. “Good afternoon to you both.” In one hand, the dark haired man held a small hammer, while the other held a collection of nails. He began to put these tools down then walked up towards us. “Did you need something?”

Lucian followed his father’s example and came to stand beside him. The shaggy wolf gave us another once over before opening his mouth. “We didn’t forget an order or nothing, did we?” Now that the he and his father side by side, it was easy to see how different they had become over the years. Lucian used to look like a copy of his father; the same crooked nose, the slightly droopy eyes, even the same little cleft in the chin. I was so used to seeing him as he was now, however, as one of the wolves, I had nearly forgotten his human appearance.

Did this affect my memory of other wolves? Had I lost the image of others’ previous forms? Thinking on this, I began to sift through images in my mind, trying to place a wolf with a respective human face I could remember. I found I came up short in some cases. Even Eliza, whom I had known since childhood, was hazy. I could only partially make out her old appearance. She had changed before I apprenticed to Father MacDonald, and now my brain mostly produced images of her wolfen face.

Would I eventually end up forgetting more? I began to question if this truly mattered at all. They had all chosen their new lives, their new forms. Should I focus so much on their old ones? Was it wrong to still perceive them as they once were?

Certainly not, I told myself. They were still the same person inside. By Myrrah’s light, nothing really changed. They all had the same personalities, the same quirks. Even the ones whose human face I could no longer recall, I could never think of as anything other than the same person.

“No, you’re needed for a job down south.” Mikhael’s words snapped me out of my thoughts. He went on to explain the situation as we knew it, and I saw the faces of both Lucian and his father darken. The news of children in distress was enough to make any mood sour. Mikhael then finished, “I want you to go down and help find those children.”

Lucian’s eyes did not meet his leader’s for some odd seconds. He seemed to be spinning ideas through his mind. No doubt trying to piece together the reason a sorcerer would steal children. It was a thought I couldn’t come up with an answer for myself. It seemed so odd to exclusively target children like this. Such an act was so obviously noticeable, it makes one wonder what purpose it would possibly serve.

Seemingly finished with his wheel spinning, Lucian nodded. He turned to his father, looking down slightly to meet his eyes. “Pa, I…”

Irwin shook his head and waved a hand, silencing the shaggy wolfman. “No need. I can take care of the rest of today’s orders.” Before he turned to go back to his work, however, he added one small note. “Give that son of a whore a good punch for me.”

Lucian gave his father a toothy grin and then a quick hug. Mikhael told him to get his things ready and head to the southern gate. Once the brown furred man left, Mikhael and I went to go get Roderick. Irwin waved us off as we headed out the door, wishing us a good afternoon. The wind had picked up slightly in the short time we were inside, scattering leaves, dead twigs, and other debris across the road.

Unlike before, I lead the way to Roderick and Victoria’s family home. It was just a bit later than midday, so Roderick was most likely to be found helping around the house while his father was working. However, very much like earlier, Mikhael and I kept our silence. I was not entirely sure what to even talk about, or even if I should. The two of us rarely talked if it wasn’t about demon activity or some such, and beside that he was nearly double my age. As luck would have it though, the journey to Roderick’s home was extremely short, and as we rounded the corner, I caught sight of our target chopping wood.

He was in mid-swing as we walked up, the iron axe head coming down hard onto the wood, splitting it in half with a very clean slice. The two halves fell to the side and joined a small collection of fellow wood halves. It seemed a bit too much wood for just the one house, in my opinion.

Roderick looked up at us and gave a little smile. “Afternoon,” he said. He pulled another small log up on the little pedestal and brought the axe overhead, preparing to make another clean slice.

“Put it down,” Mikhael ordered. At once, Roderick dropped the tool and looked to his leader with an attentive look on his face. The axe made a rather loud thud when it hit the ground. Mikhael and I then gave him the same roundup Lucian got, during which the black furred wolf stood still soaking in the information. Mikhael finished by telling him to report to the southern gate, then promptly left.

After the silver furred guard had gone out of earshot, Roderick cursed under his breath, “A damned sorcerer that far south.” He ran a clawed hand through the tuft of fur around his neck. “Where are these people even coming from?”

Now there was a good question, I thought. Demons can’t roam the world entirely on their own, after all. A sorcerer has to summon them first, which requires knowing their name. Demons don’t exactly go around shouting their names to every Tom, Dick, and Stanley, so how some people end up with this knowledge had always been a puzzle.

“So,” Roderick began, “why are you coming, exactly?” I knew he didn’t mean it as an insult, but it still stung somewhat to hear him ask that so bluntly.

In return, I curtly responded, “I’ll be dealing with the sorcerer personally. You and Lucian will handle whatever demon he’s bonded to.”

The look on his face was one of almost complete confusion. “Why in the world would you do that?”

I had forgotten not everyone had been informed of my reason for staying at Reynald for so long. It took a bit of time to explain things to my future brother-in-law, which elicited some rather colorful words about our northern neighbors. All things considered, he took the news about as well as anyone could, I suppose. Honestly, how is one to respond to such an insane thing?

Once I finished bringing Roderick up to speed, I tapped the front of my shield to his chest lightly. “And that, to answer your question, is why I’m coming.”

A shrug was his only response before he headed inside to gather his things. While waiting outside for his return, I busied myself by flipping through my book of miracles. In doing so, my mind began to think back on my training, and how all us clerics were told the powers we channeled are said to come directly from Mother Myrrah herself. The knowledge of these miracles were gifts delivered to us from our holy mother, ways to protect ourselves and keep those around us safe.

And that is exactly what I was planning to do. I would help locate those children and bring this mad sorcerer to justice, purge whatever corruption the demon placed on him, and make sure the demon was dealt with.

~~~

We left Blackthorne almost immediately. There was a tension in the air as we traveled, as if even nature itself could sense something was wrong. The sky was dark most of the days, yet not a drop of rain hit our heads. I pushed our horse hard every day, almost forcing it to run the entire way. Poor thing didn’t deserve it, but at the moment I was far too focused on the task at hand, nothing else seemed to matter. I barely slept the way down, every night a struggle just to manage even a hour of dreams. I was too wound up, and Lucian and Roderick weren’t much help in lessening that.

I noticed the two of my wolvish friends were much in the same way of tense as I. Lucian barely said a word, which wasn’t too different from his usual demeanor, but I could sense how much the news was bothering him. He didn’t eat much either. Took maybe one or two bites each night, then would walk off and sit alone. I wanted to say something to try to break the almost visible tension, but I didn’t know what to do. Lucian barely said anything. The most I’d gotten out of him was when he asked how far we’d gotten on our third day out. I just couldn’t read him.

Roderick was a wholly different case. Despite his position as one of the demon hunters, he was still relatively young, one of the youngest current wolves to be exact. He had been hotheaded before, a bit brash, and sometimes even as idiotic as Edmund. I could remember a time he’d come home from a patrol and begged me to use a healing prayer on him just so he didn’t have to hear his mom worry over his wounds for hours on end. Because of all that, I was unused to seeing him so silent and still. With Lucian, I could understand. But Roderick wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the same kid I always knew.

On one hand, I could feel a sense of pride for Roderick, finally growing up and acting more mature. But at the same time, I still saw him as the boy I used to know. The one who would follow all the older kids around and trying to emulate them just to fit in. The little runny nosed kid who begged me to help bring a baby bird back to its nest. Thinking back on it, I realized I was being an idiot. He had trained for this life, worked his butt off just to be a respected demon hunter, and here I was still clinging to the idea of him being a naive child.

Perhaps deep down, I was envious of how quickly he took to his new life. It had taken me years to work up the courage to ask Father MacDonald to take me on as an apprentice. Meanwhile, the moment Roderick came of age, he had a single minded goal of becoming a wolf, and he never seemed to waver in his confidence that he not only would manage it, but that he’d become one of the best.

New Hiron was still a day or two away when we hit a snag. One of the wagon wheels busted, and we didn’t think to bring a spare. I wasn’t even entirely sure what happened, either. One minute we were rushing down the road, and next thing I knew, the back half of the wagon gave way and nearly sent the two wolves flying off.

As we were examining the wheel, Lucian finally said his first word of that day. “Shit,” he exclaimed when he saw the damage. The wheel had been split almost clean down the middle, clearly apparent by the fact only half the wheel was even still there. The other half was a little ways down the road.

Roderick and I looked at one another for a second or two before realizing we didn’t even have the necessary tools to fix the wheel, let alone even have the knowledge on how to fix it. The nearest town was a few hours off back north, but we didn’t have the time to waste heading back then waiting for a repair. While I was lost in my head thinking about what we were going to do about this situation, Roderick stepped up with a plan.

“Why don’t you just take the horse?”

I looked up at him, squinting my eyes in confusion.

He explained on, “Take him and keep going. Lucian and I can follow on foot.”

While it was true the wolves were fast, I didn’t exactly like the idea. Doing things this way would mean risking injury on the road, or tiring themselves out. They’d need their strength to deal with a possible demon, after all, and if they wore themselves out running for the next day or so, then who knows how things would turn out. Turning around, I was about to ask Lucian for any other plan of action, but the shaggy wolfman had already taken off. And man, was he going. Hunched down on all fours, he was nearly a blur as he sped off.

“Guess he doesn’t mind,” I spoke my thoughts aloud. It was something I often forgot; that the wolves were, after all, a combination of man and beast. It was so easy to forget such a detail when the majority of one’s interactions with them was as an ordinary citizen.

I decided to salvage what I could from the wagon, placing some food and other such necessities into a few bags and tying them to the horse. From my side, Roderick made a little noise. He patted me on the back, pushing me slightly towards the horse at the same time, encouraging me to follow his plan. Honestly, I didn’t have any better idea, so I just went along with it. As I pulled myself up into the stallion’s saddle, Roderick was already rushing off ahead, black tail swaying in the breeze as he ran. Grabbing the reins, I kicked my legs in to get the beast moving, and I was soon making my way following the wolves.

I could see barely see Lucian up ahead, now almost the size of an ant in the distance. Slowly, Roderick and I were closing the gap with him, as he seemed to be slowing intentionally, almost waiting for us to catch up. When we did meet up with him, he was back on his feet and just walking. I knew he couldn’t have tired out already, so I took it as a silent nod of respect.

We kept going until the sun began to dip below the horizon, at which point we set up camp. Lucian went about getting the fire going while Roderick decided it was best if he just stayed out of the way. After taking care of the stallion and making sure the boy was fed and had something to drink, I sat down in front of the slowly rising fire and stared into the embers. The sound of crackling wood was the only noise in our camp that night.

~~~

Someone was shaking me awake, urging me that we had to move. In my half sleep-addled state, I stumbled to my feet, almost falling flat down again. It was still dark, not a hint of sunshine. The fire had long since died down, now only slightly reddish cinder remained. Lucian was the one who woke me, and he offered me a piece of dried meat for a very meager breakfast. While I ate what little I got and began to wake up properly, Roderick and Lucian were stretching their arms and legs out to get ready for the remainder of the way.

We departed before the sky had the chance to even bleed reds and purples. The stallion was more than happy to pick up where we left off and ready to get right to running. The wolves were ahead of us the entire way, but that only seemed to spur on the animal to try to match their strides. He didn’t even seem bothered just how rough he was pushing himself just to keep up, his breath coming out hard and fast, but he never slowed for even a second. Slowly but surely, he didn’t manage to close the gap, and it wasn’t due to either of my companions intentionally slowing. When they saw the horse gaining on them, they almost seemed impressed. Well, Roderick did at least. His eyes bulged out and he got a little smile when he saw the horse. Lucian however, didn’t seem to react.

As we were racing down the road, a foul scent hit me head on. It smelled like week old food and manure, as if a giant had come and plopped down a piece of filth right in front of me. I saw the wolves stop and almost gag at the scent. It would seem their enhanced sense of smell had a drawback. Bringing a hand up to cover his snout, Lucian just marched onwards. I began to look around, trying to find the source of the foul smell. And that’s when I realized, it was the nearby swamps. This far down south was nothing but swamplands, and we had finally hit the point where the swamps overtook most of the side roads. I’d never been near them before, but I did recall some stories of the scent. And by Myrrah’s light, did those stories not do any justice.

But, if we had hit the swamps by now, it meant New Hiron wasn’t far off. And as we rounded the next hill, the town came into view. Stone buildings, much different from the wooden structures I was used to. Thinking on it, it made more sense to use stone. Being so near the swamps would probably rot a wooden home fairly quickly. The smell was just overwhelming, though. I didn’t know how the people could stand to live with this. As we neared the town, I could make out a few people walking about, and a small group was coming into town.

Someone spotted us in the distance and seemed to alert the rest of the town, and soon a group of people were forming up at the entrance to the town, waiting for us. Descending from the horse, I walked by its side as we got close, and soon our small group was approached by several people. Their voices were all over the place, asking constant questions.

“Are you from Blackthorne?”

“Can you help?

“Does the Church know anything about the sorcerer?”

“Are there more of you coming?”

Lucian looked around for a second then barked out, “Enough!” Everyone quieted down. The shaggy wolf then walked off, seeming to know where he was going, as he left me and Roderick behind to face the storm of questions. I tried to chase after him and demand to know where he thought he was going, but the townspeople surrounded me once more and didn’t allow me. Their barrage of questions continued, and I didn’t really know how to answer.

The people kept asking more and more questions, not allowing me to say anything in response or even move. It was suffocating how closed in I felt. The noise and tight fit of the crowd was beginning to get to me, and I had finally had enough. I touched the shield on my arm, putting forth a portion of power, and suddenly from the shield burst near-blinding light. Everyone shielded their eyes from the light, and used the opportunity to move away from the crowd slightly. As the light dissipated, I let out a sigh of relief when the townspeople seemed to realize what happened and did not return to form a circle around me.

Finally with room to breath, I scanned the people. I saw worried faces, lines along their sides and brows, eyes red with previous tears. I saw parents desperate to locate their children, the mixture of anger and sadness clear and present about them. After clearing my throat, I spoke up, “Fine people of New Hiron, my companions and I have been sent from Blackthorne to help locate your missing children. I would ask of you all that you just…”

“It’s a sorcerer,” someone interrupted with a shout.

“Demons are stealing the kids,” another yelled.

I put my hands up in a gesture of calm surrender. “People, please,” I said, “we are here to help. But we can’t do that if you don’t allow me to chance to speak with you.” This seemed to settle some of the crowd. Some people looked ready to yell some more, but by the grace of Myrrah, they held their tongues. “Now then,” I went on, “can anyone tell me how this started?”

A man took a step forward. He looked to be a bit older than myself, and he was dressed in clothes dirty from walking the swamps for who knows how many days. He recounted his tale. “About a week and some days ago, me and my little brother were hunting in the swamp. We do this a lot, so I didn’t think much of letting him get out of sight. He knew the swamp, ya know, ‘cuz we go out a lot. Well, I was dealing with a snake, and I hear him yell for me. But, when I looked around, he was gone.”

The man cast his eyes down, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. When he spoke next, his words were filled with emotion. “I been searching ever since, but I can’t find anything. No trace at all. It’s all my fault, I shoulda kept my eye on him.” An older woman I assumed to be his mother pulled him into an embrace and held him while he let out a few sobs.

An old man stepped forth next. “That was the first. Since then, more and more kids went missing. Some just vanished out of their beds at night.” I could see his hands shake and ball into tight fists. “We’ve already searched so much. Every day without any clues just brings more sadness.”

I walked up and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise you, we will do everything we can to help. With our holy mother as my witness, those children will be found.”

In the distance, I saw Lucian walking back towards us, and he seemed to be with some people. They looked almost familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why. As they got closer, I began to piece things together when I realized the man walking beside him looked almost like Lucian’s own father. This was family. An uncle and his children. No wonder Lucian had been so moody the trip up here. He had been worried for the safety of his relatives.

The old man in front of me thanked me for my reassurance, then walked off. I was left standing before the crowd again, so I did what I thought was best. I led them in a short prayer. I spread my arms wide, encouraging the townspeople to bow their heads in worship, then I began. “Mother Myrrah, holy mother to all, we pray to you for the safety of these missing children. Wherever they may be, may they be unharmed. May they be reunited with their families and loved ones soon. And may whoever is responsible for their disappearance be dealt with justly.”

With that done, I decided the best course of action would be for me and my two companions to begin our search as soon as possible.

~~~

We spent the next four days in those swamps. Those muck infested, death-scented, dark and damp swamps. Insects buzzed about and bit and stung at us as we walked. Leeches would latch onto us and drain our blood. Snakes would attempt to strike, only to be met with the pointed end of a silver blade. It was hot, muggy, and all too uncomfortable to be walking in that filth. But, I was determined to not give up until we found something. Anything that could lead us to those kids.

All three days turned up nothing on the missing children. It turns out, the heavy scent of the swamp blocked out all other smells, so the wolves’ usual method was completely useless. When we found out about this setback, Lucian looked ready to punch through a tree, Roderick seemed about as angry as I’d ever seen, and I settled in for the long haul. So, we had to walk those swamps without any real advantages. No matter how much we searched, we never found a clue. Not a shoe, nor a torn piece of cloth. Nothing.

I was beginning to lose hope. I could only imagine how hopeless the townspeople themselves felt. Nearly two weeks now for them with little indication of where their children had gone to. Some people had left the search party, having given up all hope. Others had their sadness replaced by anger, and were lashing out at others. I couldn’t blame any of these people for their grief. It was only four days, and I was already worrying we might not turn up anything. By dusk on the fourth day, I almost wished we’d find a corpse, just so we’d know what happened to those kids.

We were marching through the swamps on the fourth night. There was no moonlight to speak of, and even if there was, I doubted it would have made its way through the thick trees. Because of this lack of light, I used a lesser version of the same miracle I used when we arrived in town to provide ourselves some way of seeing our way. Combining all the total area searched both by the townspeople before our arrival, as well as those areas we all searched since our arrival, it would count for nearly a third of the total swamplands. Some part of me wondered if whoever stole the children was even still around. It would certainly seem the best tactic; let the townspeople tire themselves out searching the swamps while the kidnapper departed for places unknown.

But of course, that still left the questions. Why steal children? Why these children? Was a sorcerer even responsible? What purpose would a common kidnapping serve?

Were they even alive?

I shook those thought away. I had to remain positive. I had to have faith things would turn out alright.

Ahead of me, Roderick and Lucian were doing their best scouting things out. With their noses as useless as my own, however, things were not going well. They couldn’t find any footprints in the muck, either. Nor could they locate any sort of indication that someone had gone this way. But still, we had to be thorough. We had to look through every slice of land we could.

Suddenly, both wolves stopped dead in their tracks. Their ears all swiveled this way and that. Had they heard something? Did they hear a child’s cry of panic? I held my breath, just waiting to see if they picked up anything of note. The two exchanged glances, then looked behind at me. Roderick made a little motion with his hand, urging me to get closer, while at the same time both he and Lucian unsheathed their silver blades.

Before I could take a step closer, though, a roar erupted from our right, and a shadowy figure lunged out towards the two wolves. Whatever it was it kept just out of the light, so I couldn’t make out too much of its appearance. What I could tell, was that it was as tall as a man, and it walked on four legs. The beast stayed on the edge of my light, and every time I tried to shine it closer, the beast would back up. Was the light somehow harming the creature, or was it merely toying with us?

Whatever the case may be, Roderick jumped at the chance to fight, and threw himself at the creature, slicing and cutting at whatever he could manage. Lucian stayed back, studying what he could see of the beast, possibly trying to find some kind of weakness in its movements. When Roderick moved back for a moment, Lucian lunged in, stabbing at a part of the beast still in the shadows, and a angered roar came back.

He managed to wound it. With new resolved, Roderick and Lucian then began the typical strategy. One would lunge in and strike, while the other would serve as a distraction. Whoever the beast would attempt to defend against, the other wolf would attack full force. They would trade off every strike, so the beast would not be able to defend properly against both. It was a good tactic, and one that served all the wolves very well for years.

For my part, I would keep attempting to get closer with the light, and each time, I noticed the beast would always retreat before we could fully make out its form. What I could see, however, was that part of it was covered in oil black feathers. They glistened in my light, as if they were truly coated in the thick sludge.

An opportunity presented itself when Roderick hit the creature and it seemed to fall. I ordered them to move quickly as I mustered up power into my shield, then shot forth a bolt of white fire directly at the monster. This was followed up by twin silver blades piercing straight into flesh.

As I got in close, the light finally revealed the monster in full. It was part bird, part...something. Its face was that of a crow’s, with a front half coated in those shiny black feathers. Its front two feet were the leather-like scales common of a bird, with sharp talons on three thin toes. The feathers seemed to end somewhere around the beast’s midsection, to be replaced by a sickly yellowish hide. From what I could gather, it looked as if the creature hadn’t eaten in some time, as its stomach was almost nonexistent, only ribs and bones to be seen. The back legs looked similar to a dog’s or a cat’s with the way they sloped at an angle. The tail, if you could call it such, was a stump, appearing to have been snipped off.

Lucian spit on the body. “A demon,” he growled.

“I’d hoped things weren’t this bad,” Roderick said. “Demons this far south? This ain’t right.”

While I agreed with both their sentiments, I was in some way happy. If a demon had attacked, it meant a sorcerer couldn’t be too far off. And if a sorcerer was nearby, it meant our search was possibly coming to an end.