This post is for ze chapters! I'll probably post more crud later in the thread (if you have any questions, you can chuck them in the thread and I'll try clarify, for example); but this post is purely for the chapters of this story as it progresses.
This story contains several nonbinary characters. I always try my best, but if you see me do anything problematic, feel free to chuck me a PM here or on Discord and we can work through it together! I don't bite and certainly won't be mad. =) Or even just a link to 'how to do this thing you are doing badly', if you don't want to discuss it or don't have the time.
Chapter One (Night One)It was cold, it was raining, and my clothes were caked in mud. These were my first thoughts as I opened my eyes in the grey, cold drizzle and the mud of an unknown land.
I didn't know who I was, which was weird. I couldn't remember a name, any village before this, or even how I got here. This was distressing. Nonetheless, it was a relief to find a figure in a blue rainproof jacket hunkered down beside me, extending one heavily gloved hand. They were a little pale but had a kind face, really beautiful hazel eyes, and amazing cheekbones- which probably did bias me in their favour, come to think of it, but at the time I was just relieved to have somebody who seemed so nice helping me out at what was understandably a very distressing moment.
"Hey," the figure said. "Are you okay?"
"Ah- yes," I seized their hand and struggled to one knee. "I don't know how I- well, I just got here."
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" they asked, guiding me to my feet.
"No. I wasn't expecting to wake up in the mud. Don't know how I got here. I wasn't drunk, I swear! I'm not like that. At least, I don't think I am. I don't know who I am."
Their brow creased. Obviously this rambling sounded totally insane, so I shut my mouth and waited to see what they'd do next. They straightened, ran their eyes over my sodden and shivering form, and nodded.
"Right. I don't mean to alarm you, but this is not a safe place to be right now. I'll take you back to my place, and you can rest there tonight, but you need to move on tomorrow. Is that okay?"
"Thank-you," I managed, suddenly realising how very cold the air was against my face.
They wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kept me talking as we moved through the town, past small thatched houses with dark windows, shopfronts closed and boarded up. I didn't know this person, but I couldn't keep myself from talking. Everything which came into my head flooded out past my lips. It stopped me from thinking about how empty my mind really was, how strange, and how frightening.
"I'm Floren. Do you have a name?" they asked, ushering me inside a house as small and unlit as the rest.
"I suppose I must," I forced a smile, but doubted it seemed at all genuine. "I don't- I don't remember."
Floren helped me into a chair, moved to light a lantern. "Will you be okay on your own a few minutes?"
"Yeah. Why?"
They disappeared, and I suddenly realised how not okay I was with being alone. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know where I was, or how I got there, or who my family were. My friends. Information doesn't just disappear like that. I started to wonder if I was just a dream, which was a silly but utterly terrifying thought, and by the time my host returned it felt like an eternity had passed and I clasped my hands to hind the trembling.
"You can change into these," Floren said, holding out a bundle of clothes. "I'm sorry, they probably won't fit."
"It's okay. They look very warm."
"I have to go now, okay? I'm really sorry, but it's almost nightfall and there are...hungry things out there. Dead livestock. Farmers will kill me if I don't do something about it soon. But I'll be back at dawn, and we can discuss what you want to do next. For now get changed, get some sleep- bedroom's that way- and I'll see you in the morning."
I didn't know what 'things' they might be talking about- did you get wolves in these parts? Where were these parts?- but I had to admit, they seemed very serious and dashing and intense, and I felt well protected. I nodded once.
"Thanks again. Good luck."
They smiled, as tight-lipped and anxious as I felt, and stepped out into the drizzle. I was again left alone with my thoughts, but I could push them aside for a time as I struggled into these new clothes. They were warm indeed, but the arms and legs were much too long, and I felt like a child playing dress-ups. I pushed my old muddied attire into a pile, wrapped the woolen jersey around my torso and sank back against my chair, half-turned towards the window.
I stared into the rain, trying to lull myself with its gentle rhythms. It didn't work. I was tired, but my mind just wouldn't let me sleep. With a heavy heart, I got to my feet and shuffled off towards the bedroom. Hopefully it would all seem less frightening in the morning. Perhaps somebody in this village could even help me work out what was going on.
Chapter Two (Night One)I slept poorly. I couldn't stop fixating on this notion that I was a dream, and would fade if I didn't focus. Occasionally I would slip away, only to wake with a sudden jolt, to the rain and the thunder all around. I didn't know where my host kept their tinderbox and so I couldn't light a lantern, but at some stage I grew tired of lying there terrified in the dark, and got up to explore.
Their bedroom was nice. Not extravagant- the kind of room you'd find in any house in any village- but to me, having woken up in the mud just a few hours before, it was lovely. The house consisted of three rooms in total: the next over contained a washbasin, where I'd done my best to remove the mud caked onto my skin, and the third and largest contained a table and a few chairs, a hearth, and a small bookcase, with a kitchen of sorts tucked into the back corner. I'd just made up my mind to see what books my host kept when the front door slammed open and they fell across the threshhold.
I was surprised to find Floren back so soon- it wasn't dawn yet- but surprise quickly gave way to alarm. They were on their knees, head down and breathing hard, arms clasped around their shuddering form. I closed the door and knelt beside them.
"What happened?"
Their gaze snapped up, wild eyes finding me for the first time. "I- she, dead. These wolves, I saw them- huge- and they- she- she died. She died screaming. They-"
Their voice trailed off into a whine. Floren pressed their face into their trembling hands. They took an unsteady breath, choking on their own words.
"I can't do this."
This was entirely unexpected. When I'd met Floren that evening, they'd seemed so on top of things. But somebody had died. Killed by giant wolves, if I understood correctly. I strained my ears, but couldn't hear any howling out there in the dark. Couldn't hear anything at all over the rain.
They could be right outside and I wouldn't hear them. I shuddered. But the door was closed, and my host had made it back safely. We would be okay.
"From what you've said," I began, slowly, "it would be foolish to go out again before morning."
"I have a gun. I just- I just need..."
"No," I put my foot down- literally- twisting myself past Floren to stand between them and the door. "I insist. The sun will be up in a few hours. There's no sense in getting yourself killed too."
They were crying. I don't think they heard me, but that was okay. I sat with them until the shuddering stopped, and let them lean against my shoulder.
"I feel sick," they muttered. "It was-"
"Don't think about it," I said, one arm wrapped around them.
"I have to. They- they're relying on me. She- she was well loved. What's left, I can't..."
I don't know how long we sat there, but the first white glow of dawn brushed the horizon when they finally stirred. They'd been quiet for a long time, but now they took a deep breath and raised their eyes.
"Just wolves," they said. "Just big, ugly, hungry wolves."
Their voice still shook slightly, and their eyes were red and puffy, but there was a determination which hadn't been there before. They gently removed my arm, got to their feet, and touched a hand to the pistol at their hip. Drawing strength from this action, they squared their shoulders and stepped towards the door.
"They should be gone by now," they said.
"Just be careful," I replied, in a perfectly steady voice which surprised even me. "Deal with the body, tell whoever you need to, but please don't take on these wolves alone. If what you've said is true, it'll take more than one person."
"I'll write to Northpass tomorrow. They don't always listen, but I'm willing to beg."
They placed both hands on my shoulders and met my gaze. "Thank-you. I'll be careful, and in the morning...well, one step at a time."
Chapter Three (Day One)((Content warning- death of a close family member. Not the PoV character's family, not explored in great detail, but still present.))
"No way was Grace killed by wolves," the woman snarled. "Floren, there was nothing left. You saw it yourself."
I squeezed their forearm, as much for my own reassurance as to comfort them. It wasn't fair! Floren had actually seen the attack, and this woman was being totally unfair. She hadn't had to deal with seeing the wolf attack first-hand! To Floren's credit, they maintained their composure and held out a stack of really impressive pencil drawings. It had surprised me to learn that Grace didn't sell the products of her craft, but did it purely for herself. If I was half as skilled as her, I'd be making as much money as I could. Grace was a far better person than I.
Floren spoke, tone level but eyes downcast:
"These are yours, if you want them. Your mother-"
They met her gaze and never finished that sentence. Her face crumpled the moment she saw what they were holding. The woman's fists were clenched, her knuckles strained and white. She was trying to keep it together, but I didn't think it was working. Her eyes had already started to stream.
"Floren, she didn't deserve this."
Grace's daughter. My heart clenched. I still didn't remember my mother, but I could imagine the pain of losing somebody so close to you. Somebody who'd raised you, who loved you through thick and thin. I wondered if I'd already known this pain first-hand, or if that was still to come.
Floren wrapped an arm around Grace's daughter, before turning their focus to the heavyset man standing nearby. They'd warned me about him already: Michael, the leader of the village's small band of guards, and humorless at the best of times. The rest of them clustered together nearby. I saw a woman and two men, the younger stifling a yawn, and wondered if this was the first time they'd faced a situation like this. Such grisly deaths were not exactly a common occurrence, and especially not in a village this tiny, in an area which was not in fact frequented by wolves (I'd asked, and was willing to trust Floren's judgement on this, given that they lived here and all.) I had a theory which the villagers were yet to suggest and as the stranger I didn't want to draw attention, and most likely suspicion, towards myself. Besides, Floren was smart. They surely had the same thought. If they didn't say something now, I would wait until I could get them alone, and then reveal what was on my mind. If anyone was going to hear me out without judging me guilty on the spot, it was them.
Michael stepped forward.
"This is a terrible tragedy," he said. "We need to ensure we are here for each other."
"You can do a bit more than that," somebody in the crowd scoffed. "You can find out who did this!"
"We already know what did this," Michael said, leveling his mismatched gaze at them. "The same wolves plaguing the farm."
Somebody else laughed, short and harsh. "Ha! No wolves in this area. Never have been. This was a werewolf attack."
That was my theory as well. I glanced at Floren, hoping for their support. All I could tell was that they were exhausted, dark circles like bruises enclosing their eyes, face pale and strained. They didn't want to be here. I didn't blame them. They tightened their arm around the woman, who still clutched the sketches to her heart, choked sobs growing gradually less frequent.
"You really think some of us are werewolves?" the female guard piped up, one eyebrow raised. "Don't you think we'd know? I've known these people my whole life. I highly doubt any of them are turning into wolves and devouring my friends."
"Who's that?" Grace's daughter jabbed an accusatory finger in my direction. I flinched. I could feel several sets of suspicious eyes turn to me.
"Just visiting," I managed.
"Seems suspicious."
"He only arrived last night, Alice," Floren murmured in her ear. "He's in a bad way, but no werewolf."
"Calamity, then," Alice glared up at them. "Hasn't been here long. Mysterious history they- they don't talk about, don't come out during the day. Very suspicious if you- if you ask me. And that name!"
"Cal is..." Floren trailed off, looked to Michael, who had been joined by a pair of restless children. "We should check that out."
Michael's expression didn't change. He took the children's hands as he glanced over at the other three guards. The young man seemed agitated, and when he noticed all eyes on him, he stamped his foot and shook his head.
"Cal isn't a wolf. They've had a rough time, okay? Just- let me talk to them."
"Why aren't they here now?" somebody snapped. "I mean, addressing this situation seems pretty important. I bet they can't handle the guilt. Face it, you don't even really know your sibling."
The young man started towards the speaker, but the female guard grabbed his collar and hauled him back. He stiffened and turned on her, but she took his hand and whispered something I didn't hear. His shoulders slumped and he nodded.
Watching this exchange, it hit me just how close these people were. It was a tiny village where everyone knew everyone else- as in 'nobody knows anyone's surname because we've never needed to use them'. Even if they were caught before more people died, discovering werewolves in a community like that was the kind of thing which would tear families apart. Tear lives apart. If you couldn't trust the neighbour who lended you sugar and took care of your children when you were sick, then who could you trust?
I watched Michael crouch down to whisper something to those two children- were they his?- and wondered how this was affecting the young ones. Did they have any comprehension of what was going on? Were they capable of being wary of people they trusted? I didn't know. I hoped they would be okay. I hoped they would get through this and grow up unscarred by the experience.
The group soon started to break up, and while a few curious eyes wandered in my direction, nobody else openly accused me of being a werewolf. I was most definitely not in the mood for an interrogation, and so thankful for this small mercy. Floren exchanged a few words with Alice, before she nodded and Floren went to join their associates. On the other hand, much to my alarm, Alice didn't move away but rather turned once more to me. The fight-or-flight response kicked in and I tensed, heart racing.
"I'm sorry about that, honey. It wasn't fair of me."
"It's okay," I managed.
"Are those Floren's?" she gestured at my oversized attire.
I smiled nervously. It seemed she wasn't about to start shouting after all, but it still stung that she'd suggested I killed her mother. The very idea made me sick to my stomach.
"Yeah. Mine were ruined and I didn't have anything else. They're very kind."
"I should have something your size back at mine. Ask them to bring you when they're done."
I nodded and she left. I was alone in the middle of the village green. Alone with my thoughts, which was just as unwelcome a prospect as before, even though I'd invented a nice backstory to fixate on by this stage. I liked to pretend I was a scholar who read some forbidden arcane texts and as a result lost all sense of who they were. As far as potential scenarios went, I liked that one. It would mean I was smart, at least.
I ambled towards Floren and the others. Murmured introductions were made and I nodded, shifting awkwardly as I realised I still didn't have a name to give them in exchange. I need to choose one, this is getting ridiculous.
"Are you staying long?" the woman, Amelia, asked.
"Heading out today," I confessed.
Michael frowned. "In this state? You need to see somebody about your memories."
I realised with a jolt that they'd been discussing me. What else did Floren say? I hoped they hadn't made me sound too pitiable. I didn't want to be pitied. They'd shown me compassion, but too many people think pity is the same thing, and I didn't know these people well enough to determine what they thought of me right then.
Floren bit their lip. "There's still a healer in Scarsden, right?"
"Yeah," one of the others, Nicholas, piped up. "I was there last week. Total jerk, but does his job well. I'm sure he can help our friend."
He yawned. "Michael, Flo, is it okay if I head home? I didn't sleep well, and if you want me out there tonight and all..."
Michael nodded. "Get some rest. Thanks for your assistance."
Nicholas smiled- that same tight-lipped smile Floren favoured- exchanged a few words with the latter, and left. That smile, and the way he held his head when he spoke, struck me. They were very similar, in both mannerisms and appearance. Related, perhaps? Siblings? They had to be pretty close in age, both in their mid-to-late twenties if I was any judge, so it was certainly possible.
Huh. I'd worked that out all on my own. Maybe I was a smart person after all!
"I should head home too," Floren said. "I have a feeling tonight will be a long one. Simon, are you alright with taking our guest to Scarsden?"
"Sure, anything's better than standing here all day. Can you manage without me, boss?"
"I'll get by without your complaining for one day," Michael replied, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.
"Hey! I'm not that bad."
Floren actually laughed. It was a nice laugh, and made my stomach do strange fluttery things. Before I could think too much about what this meant, they stepped towards me and extended a hand.
"Well, it's been a pleasure. Perhaps we'll meet again in better times."
My stomach fluttered harder. I took their hand. Without the glove it was strong, but smooth and cool, and good. I shook it twice, and then remembered what Alice had said.
"Alice- uh, the seamstress. She said she had some clothes for me. Could you show me the way?"
"That's very kind of her. And I suppose I really would like that jersey back. Winter's closing in and all."
Their tone was playful. I decided to tease them a little- see if I could elicit another laugh.
"Yeah, I get that. Green is definitely your colour."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Alice is on the way to mine, we'll drag Simon along to save time. You'll like Scarsden. Much bigger than here, much...wealthier."
I would be sad to leave them behind, but I wasn't so foolish as to prioritise some new friendship over the chance to get my memories back- and the opportunity to escape being mauled by horrible vicious wolf-men. I could stay in a werewolf-infested village because of someone I barely knew, or go to a safe village and get my memories back. I knew which option I preferred.
"Sounds good to me."
Chapter Four (Day One)
I was in high spirits as I followed Simon out of town. I had tidy new clothes which actually fit, on the house (Floren had slipped Alice some silver anyway, but I pretended I didn't notice.) If all went well, I would know what was wrong with me within a couple days. Perhaps even have my memories back if I was especially lucky! On top of all this, a beam of sunlight had even broken through the clouds, which had loomed dense and grey ever since my arrival. Things were definitely looking up.
I was worried about the wolves, of course, but Floren and Simon dismissed my fears whenever I brought them up. They hadn't been prepared the previous night, but the wolves would sure get a surprise come next sunset! Simon was confident the creatures wouldn't make it through another night. I bit my tongue and kept from reminding him that these werewolves were most likely his friends, if not his family. Regardless of my doubts, it was reassuring to see them with a little more confidence, and I was able to make idle chit-chat as we walked.
"Have you ever been to Scarsden?" Simon asked.
"No." Well, I didn't think so, but that amounted to the same thing in the end.
"You'll love it. So much bigger than Streamfarm."
"Streamfarm?" that had to be the village's name. That's silly.
As if reading my thoughts, Simon laughed.
"Yeah, people 'round here don't have much imagination. Well, Cal does- but they've actually seen the world, you know? Our village has a stream, and a farm. So, yeah. Streamfarm."
"Quaint," I said. "But you seem happy here?"
"Hmmm," he grimaced. "I mean, I'd love to get away. I dream I'll meet a nice girl in one of the larger villages, perhaps even a town. Maybe get a dog. Become an innkeeper and hear all these great stories from travelers passing through. Not just the same stories from my sibling, over and over."
"So why are you still here?"
"Takes a lot to get away. Don't have the gold for it, for one. One day, though. One day I'll be living in that inn with my partner-in-crime and our dog, with Cal stopping by to regail patrons with their tall tales. And try pinch my booze, knowing them."
I'd felt a headache coming on for a while, but it was getting much stronger now. I paused to massage my temples. Simon stopped a few steps ahead and backtracked, frowning at me intently.
"Hey. You alright?"
"I will be."
"Take your time. It's only a few hours away. We'll be there well before dark."
I took another step, but the pain flared and I dropped to my knees.
"I can't. Simon-"
He was saying something I couldn't hear. I curled further into myself, and he was shaking my shoulders, and then the world dropped out from under me.
***
When I woke, I was lying in a hammock. This in itself was odd. My head still ached, but nothing like it did before. I rolled over and yelped as I very nearly tumbled flailing from my perch, until somebody caught me. There was an unexpected rasping laugh.
"Calm down, dear. You're safe."
I didn't recognise the stranger before me, with the long straight ponytail and the wicked grin. After a few confused moments I did, however, notice some resemblance between their soft features, pale skin and dark hair, and that of somebody I'd met recently. Somebody who'd mentioned a sibling.
"You're Calamity?"
"The one and only," they smirked, sinking into a chair opposite.
I examined my new companion. They were wearing a tattered blue frock coat and a silk shirt faded to grey. Marks of luxury tarnished by prolonged wear and tear. Either they couldn't afford to replace these items, or there was some reason for the attire beyond appearances. Not at all put off by my gaze they grinned, leaned back, and crossed one worn boot over the other.
"Little brother says you had an ugly moment out there. Can you tell me what happened?"
I told them everything I remembered: the building headache, the loss of vision, the pressure across my entire skull. They nodded, that same insincere smile still quirking their lips, and when I was done they laced their fingers and leaned forward in their chair.
"I really don't know why dear Simon brought you to me. This is not at all my area of expertise. Nonetheless, I'll send word to Scarsden, see if they'll send their healer. Better that than risking another collapse upon the lawless lands between."
"What about the wolves? Won't it be dangerous staying in town with werewolves about?"
The smile remained, but their eyes hardened.
"If worse comes to worst, I'll protect you. Never fear, young guest. Scarsden are more amiable than Northpass. I'll send word with the evening messenger and help should arrive by morning after next."
"Does Floren know I'm here?" I winced at how thin my voice sounded.
They softened, lacing their gloved fingers in their lap. "They're probably still asleep. I don't want to give them further cause for concern. Amelia and Michael have been out all day, but couldn't find any trace of these wolves in the woods, and- well, you and I seem to share an understanding of the darker possibility. Probability, I should think."
"Werewolves," I sighed.
"Which leaves us in the unfortunate position of being unable to trust anybody."
They rose as if to leave. My heart lurched, and I realised once again that I very much didn't want to be alone. Not with my thoughts, and not with these new ones, of Floren or Simon or Calamity or Alice being devoured by wolves, just like the scene Floren described the previous night.
"Wait," I blurted.
They looked down at me. I seized the first thought which came to mind:
"Is Calamity your real name?"
"I've had a few names," they said, making small drumming motions with the fingers of their left hand. "But something terrible happened, and so it's Calamity now. Cal, if you prefer."
"Okay," I knew better than to pry. I started racking my brains for something else, anything else, to talk about, to make them stay.
They smiled. This time it actually reached their eyes.
"Thank-you. And yourself? What should I call my dear guest?"
"I- I don't know," I shrugged. "I suppose I have a name, I just can't remember it right now."
They hesitated. After a moment they settled back into that chair and once more laced their fingers. Their eyes burned, and I knew what Calamity said next was important for them as well.
"You don't have to keep the same name forever. Perhaps you had a name before, and when the healer works their magic you'll remember. But for the time being, you should choose a name which has meaning for you now. It'll be like an anchor, help keep you sane. Trust me."
I couldn't stop myself. "Calamity. You think Calamity suits you?"
They shrugged. "My name's not so pessimistic as many think. It's not to warn others that I am a calamity, or whatever codswallop they assume. It's to remind myself that I've survived one."
I was getting tired, but we talked a while longer- me lying there in the hammock, them cross-legged in a chair opposite. Names were suggested and discarded. There were bigger things going on in the world outside, of course, and I was curious about that too, but on some level I was grateful to Cal for avoiding the situation. There was no way I would get any sleep fixating on the awful possibilities. Having such a soothing presence in the room really helped.
"Cal?" I murmured, as I felt my mind finally dull towards sleep.
"Yes?"
"How's Perseverance? Maybe Percy for short?"
They were silent for a long moment. When they spoke again, there was a smile in their voice.
"I like it. Goodnight, Perseverance."
I heard soft footsteps leave the room, and moments later I was fast asleep.
Chapter Five (Day Two)I woke on the floor, covered in blood which wasn't my own, with Calamity standing over me. There was a cutlass in their hand. I yelped and clambered back, scrambling to my knees. Cal's coat was torn and there was a nasty gash across their forearm, but their expression stayed perfectly neutral.
"That was interesting," they said. "Do you remember anything?"
"Did I forget something else?" my voice was high-pitched and crackled as I spoke. Blood. How did that get here? Was there a break-in? Why wasn't I hurt? With hindsight, I believe I already knew what must have happened, but my mind refused to let me consider the evidence.
They sighed and dropped the cutlass, holding that hand out towards me. Their glove was spattered with gore too, and I yelped again, seizing their hand in both of mine.
"Calamity! Are you okay?"
They pulled away. "I'm fine, dear, but I appreciate your concern."
"There was a fight?"
They knelt before me, folding their hands carefully in their lap. I was distracted by a dull bronze button hanging from their coat by a single thread, tarnished but still of finer quality than any other I'd seen in this village.
"You're a werewolf," they said, quite bluntly. "Not one of the werewolves, mind. Those are smaller, with darker fur. They tried to kill me and you...well, you defended me, Perseverance. You didn't last long, and I had to poke at them with this old thing until they limped off home, but you tried to defend me. A werewolf. So I find myself wondering: why?"
I couldn't speak. Even if I could, what would I say? That I didn't know, because I couldn't remember? Why was it I couldn't remember anything? Was that a werewolf thing, or because of my botched-up memory? Werewolves weren't overly common, and much of what we 'knew' about them was hearsay, so in this matter I was totally at a loss.
A new thought occurred: what if I was a wolf first, and a man second, and the reason I couldn't remember my past was because as a human I had none? Perhaps I was some sort of reverse-werewolf. Wereperson?
"Hey. Hey," Calamity was saying. "Percy, please let's relax. You saved my life, and now we know the extent of our little wolf problem. I saw four others. That's something we can tell Amelia. One step at a time. For now, please try to focus."
"Focus. Right," I swallowed hard. "I didn't hurt you?"
"No, not at all. You saved me- that's a fact. I was thoroughly distracted when they attacked, and if you hadn't been here, I wouldn't be right now. I understand you're frightened, but it's alright. We'll figure this out. For now, let's find Amelia and tell her what happened. Four wolves. In my home."
I realised something. "Simon!"
Their brow furrowed. "I was a little preoccupied with you. But Michael called for him not an hour ago, and Simon was annoyed about being woken but did leave with him. I'm not at all worried about my brother."
By the time I pulled myself together and shrugged on a clean set of clothes (Calamity was closer to my height, but the shirt still hung off my scrawny frame), the rest of Streamfarm had started to stir. The delicious smell of bread wafted from an open shopfront, and my stomach growled. I wasn't sure how long it was since I last ate, and I had very few coins with me.
Thankfully Cal was there, drawing a brightly coloured purse from their hip and counting copper coins onto the countertop. They looked much smaller without that coat. Their conversation with the baker's assistant was light, just so much meaningless small-talk. I wondered how they could be so calm. Were they lying to me? Were they a werewolf after all? But no, it wasn't Cal who'd woken on the floor in a pool of not-their-own blood, aching all over.
"And what's your name?" with a jolt, I realised the assistant was looking at me.
"P-Percy," I stammered.
"Pleasure! I'm Emma, but then, you probably knew that already."
I actually didn't. We shook hands, Calamity tore the bread in half, and the two of us continued on. I was perfectly content to chew at the moist, warm bread and let Calamity do the talking. It filled my brain with pleasant static. I didn't understand how they could be so chipper, but then again, who was I to complain? If they'd panicked, I probably would have followed suit.
"You chose your name just in time. You'll need it now more than ever. I have good reason to trust Amelia, so let's find her and finally begin sorting-"
They stopped suddenly, a cautionary hand on my arm. Amelia was perched on a chunk of stone wall up ahead, hands over her face, but those came away as we approached. She looked utterly drained.
"Calamity," Amelia said, starting to rise.
They held out a hand. "Please, don't stand on my account. I have some good news."
She forced a smile. "I could use some right now."
"I know precisely how many werewolves there are," they flourished one hand. "Four."
"And how exactly do you know this?"
"The pack broke into my house last night. If it wasn't for Percy here, I wouldn't have lived to tell the tale," they held up their injured arm. "Huge vicious things- easily reaching my shoulder on all fours. Dark matted coats. Bloodied tawny faces. Creatures of nightmare!"
"We have one in custody," she murmured.
"What, here?" I couldn't help myself.
She nodded slowly, not once taking her eyes off Calamity.
"It looks human now but when we found it, it was definitely a wolf, and...well, badly injured. Bite wounds too."
Calamity avoided my glance. "We can talk about that later, my dear. Anyone we know?"
Amelia hesitated. "I- I'll get Michael, I'm not sure-"
"Please, go ahead."
He arrived a few minutes later, grim-faced, Amelia nowhere in sight. Calamity shifted their weight and pressed at their injured arm, now securely bound, before extending the other towards him.
"Good morning, Michael. If one could call it that."
He took their hand. "Forgive me if I'm not at my best today."
"Somebody we know?"
"Somebody I trusted," he muttered. "I don't want to cause a panic, but you- well, come and see."
We entered a very short wooden corridor, at the end of which stood a single small cell. There was somebody in that cell. I recognised the halo of golden curls before they looked up, but it wasn't until they did that the shock rang through me, and I realised that the person who took me in and sheltered me that first confused night was a werewolf.
Their coat, bloodstained and muddied, lay discarded in one corner. There was gore in their hair and down one side of their face, and yet I didn't see any wounds. The grime indicated they'd woken in the mud. In the mud, with a figure standing over them. Very similar to how I'd arrived in this town, only the outcome was not so pleasant.
Floren glanced up at me, before shifting their gaze to Michael.
"Michael. I wouldn't do that. I've already told you this."
"Regardless, the fact remains that a wolf turned into you," Michael said, folding his arms. "Nicholas saw it too. I don't think we both imagined that."
"Nicholas. I-" they fell silent.
Somebody was breathing very loudly. Only when Calamity rested their hand on my arm did I realise it was me. I stared at them in shock for a moment, and then down at my feet.
"I'm okay," I managed. "I just-"
I couldn't finish the sentence. I didn't know what I was feeling. I was revolted to realise that somebody I trusted was a werewolf, but then I was a werewolf too. I remembered them stumbling stricken over the threshhold two nights previous- were they bitten that night? Was that how it worked? There were so many rumours about werewolves, I wasn't sure what to believe. Had they turned me into a werewolf? Or had I done that to them?
I realised too late that Calamity was leading me into the small cell. I yelled and pulled back, but their grip was too strong. Michael entered and locked the door behind the four of us.
"Don't leave me here!"
"I'm sorry," Cal was saying. "We don't yet understand how this all works. We don't know why you saved me. You might still pose a threat to others."
"But we know I'm not on their side," I cried, kicking out. "Don't leave me with them!"
"Don't fret. They won't be able to reach you."
Cal collected something from Michael, who followed Floren towards the opposite end of the cell. I lost sight of the others when Calamity moved between us, a spike and length of chain in one hand, handcuffs in the other.
"I'm truly sorry. We're a small village, we don't have many resources."
"They'll kill me."
"Michael will stay with you the entire night. After last night we know what to expect. If things grow dire, he'll be right here."
I didn't have the key, and I was nowhere near strong enough to overwhelm them both, but that didn't stop me trying. I kicked and struggled until finally Michael, finished with Floren, came over and held me down while Calamity drove the spike into the ground. With each resounding strike of that hammer, my panic spiked and twisted in my gut like a living thing. I looked at Michael, but there was nothing like sympathy in his eyes.
"I'll be back in the evening," he said. "Until then, you have each other for company."
He went out. Calamity gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and followed his lead, leaving Floren and I alone with each other.
Chapter Six (Day Two)Floren didn't talk much. Eventually they tried to brush some of the gore from their hair and face, but for the main part they were motionless, resting with their back to the wall. They didn't look at me. I was thankful for small mercies.
It was a cold day. I could see the goosebumps riddling their arms, but they didn't make any move to retrieve their coat. It was pretty gross, so that made some sense; but they were pretty gross right then as well. Wouldn't it be better to be gross and warm than freezing and gross?
"Stop staring at me," they said.
I looked down at my hands. "Sorry."
"Did you do this?"
"What?"
I looked up. Their eyes burned.
"Did you start this whole thing? Did you turn us into werewolves?"
Us? "You know who the others are?"
They snorted. "I wish. Did you do it?"
"I-" I glanced away again. "I don't know."
I heard them shift position. "Me neither."
I couldn't tell how late in the day it was. When night came, would we turn into wolves right away, or did we need to fall asleep first? I didn't know. I was too frightened to sleep anyway. Michael would be back in the evening, but for now it was just me and Floren. Floren, who was also a werewolf, but who for some reason I-as-a-wolf had acted against. Surely they would hold a grudge?
I judged it was getting towards evening when we heard the clamour of voices outside. I couldn't move very far at all, but by standing up I could see Calamity, Amelia and Simon in the doorway. I heard Michael outside, voice raised. I couldn't make out what was said over the other voices shouting in response, but I could hazard a solid guess.
"Somehow they found out," I murmured. "They're not happy."
Floren snorted. "Yeah, I imagine not."
Michael stepped into view and snapped at Simon and Amelia, who surged forward. Calamity joined them in forcing the doors closed, but they weren't able to secure them in time. With a screech of triumph, a wild-eyed woman burst through the entrance and hurtled towards us.
"Ah, Floren-" was all I managed, before she slammed against the bars, hair whipping against her face. It was Alice, the seamstress who'd helped me out the previous day. The seamstress who'd lost her mother to a werewolf attack, I recalled with a jolt.
"You killed her!" she cried out. "You killed her, and then...nothing left...I'll get you both! I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do."
I knew I hadn't killed Grace. Either I wasn't then a werewolf, or something prevented the shift that night, which I'd spent first lying awake and then comforting Floren- who was also human at the time. But this woman had suffered an immense loss. Arguing with her wouldn't do any good.
I felt strangely calm. Perhaps it was that I no longer had to concentrate on avoiding suspicion, or maybe her arrival was so startling that my mind slowed down in self-defense. I don't know. But I'm glad that I did, because Floren wasn't saying much at all, and as Calamity and Simon wrapped their arms around Alice and pulled her away, I could see tears in her eyes.
"Wait," I called out. Calamity and Simon turned, and Alice actually spat at me, but I pressed on.
"I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine how much you're suffering, but I will do what I can to ensure this doesn't happen again. I promise."
"I don't care," she hissed. Calamity and Simon hauled her outside. Michael and Amelia followed, and the door slammed shut. I could hear the continued roar of voices beyond.
Floren had pulled their legs into their chest, resting their chin atop them and closing their eyes. I thought they had somehow managed to fall asleep- Floren was accustomed to sleeping during the day, after all- until they looked up and scowled.
"I told you to stop staring."
"I'm sorry."
I turned to face the bars. I could barely move- the cell wasn't very big, after all. To keep us from reaching each other they had almost eliminated our mobility. It was horrible. There was no privacy. We'd been caged up like animals. Like wolves, I supposed.
It sounded like Floren was crying again, which was really awkward. I was pretty sure they were equally clueless about whatever we got up to at night, which was somewhat reassuring, but mostly just frustrating. It was difficult to know who to blame for the state of this village, and thus difficult to know what to do about it.
I remembered something Floren said that first night in Streamfarm, and without thinking turned to address them:
"You said you asked Northpass for help? Did they reply?"
They stifled a sob. "They're not going to help. Somebody will take us down tonight anyway."
"There are three other wolves out there," I reminded them.
"Do you know who they are?" they shot back.
"You know I don't."
They made a small frustrated noise and looked away. I returned to staring at the bars, awaiting Michael's return with no small amount of dread. I wasn't sure how this worked- perhaps if I concentrated, staying awake and focussed, I would keep being myself. Maybe that's what had happened the other night. If that didn't work, however, I would be a wolf again in a few hours, and I was inclined to believe Floren:
We wouldn't survive the night.
Chapter Seven (Night Three)Werewolves were rare. Michael barely knew how to recognise the creatures, let alone how somebody became one, or why the hell they had become a problem right now. Why now? Why here?
Five. Calamity told him there were five wolves in total. Michael wanted more than anything to hunt down the rest himself, but somebody had to stay and watch these two, and he would never forgive himself if they escaped while he was elsewhere. Surely Amelia, Nicholas and Simon would, between them, be able to prevent further casualties? Michael did feel bad for the trio, with only a few hours of sleep between them, but there was no way around it. Besides, when was the last time he got a solid night's rest?
There was, of course, the very real possibility that one or more of them was also a werewolf. Amelia he could trust, thanks to Calamity's rather special powers of perception. As for Nicholas and Simon...
He'd warned her to be careful, but the fact remained that she was there to defend the village from wolf attacks, and if somebody out there with her suddenly transformed, how likely was it that she'd be able to defend herself in time? Amelia trusted Nicholas, in particular, implicitly. For her the fact that he'd witnessed his sibling's transformation the previous morning, while quite clearly human himself, was enough. Michael wasn't so sure. They didn't know enough about wolves to understand how that worked- perhaps the timing varied, or perhaps such extensive injuries had delayed it in Floren's case. Who could really say?
His two prisoners suddenly spasmed and collapsed, only to rise again almost immediately as wolves. In Floren's place was the large black-furred creature Michael had seen the previous night, spitting and growling at its companion as it strained against its bonds. When he'd last seen this creature, it was bleeding out on the ground. There was no sign of injury now. Its muscles rippled beneath its thick coat as it lunged at its companion, screaming in frustration and wrenching the chain around its leg.
In the stranger's place stood an even larger wolf, pelt white save for a jet-black face. This creature, though it growled and lashed its tail, lacked the fire of the other. His head fell in line with his shoulder- in size it was closer to a horse than a wolf- and when it glanced towards him, Michael was struck again by how human their faces were. It had a drooling muzzle full of savage teeth and ears like a wolf, sure, but around the forehead and eyes it was disturbingly human. He put a hand to his gun as the larger wolf poked its dark muzzle through the bars.
Its jaws parted. Michael first instinct was to shoot, but what happened next shocked him into stillness. The creature was speaking. The words were heavily distorted, to be sure, but it was speaking his language.
"He won't remember, but I do. He calls himself 'Percy.' He was scared and thinks you will kill him, but I don't. I think you're better than that."
Yellow eyes flickered towards the smaller wolf.
"He has an affection for this one's host. Don't kill it. It's an infuriating creature, but it would devastate him and I'd rather not deal with that."
The other creature barked out a guttural stream of syllables- not quite like the growl of a wolf, but nor did it sound like any human language Michael knew. The huge white wolf swung its head towards it, responded in the same way, and refocussed on Michael as the other werewolf shrieked in response.
"Unlike me, this one would kill you. Don't worry, it can't break that chain. I told it what a pathetic werewolf it is, and it won't get more angry than this, yet it can't break that chain."
"What are you?" Michael managed, at long last.
"I talk too much. Still getting used to human contact," it rubbed its snout against the bars. "I'm what she called an 'integrated werewolf'."
"She?"
"We'll get to that. Essentially- ergh, 's' is hard for me- I'm a werewolf who retains the memories of its human host. He should remember me as well, but there have been problems."
"He claims not to remember anything."
"That's true. If he did, this would be fixed by now. Integrated werewolves don't happen naturally. We were integrated by our village witch. It put a halt to the attacks, without destroying my host. A win-win."
"Why should I believe you?"
Its lip curled. "You obviously don't. I can't do much about that. Just hear me out, and try my idea on that wolf there."
"Floren?"
"No. The other werewolf right there."
"If you're lying, and I kill them-"
It laughed- a harsh, rumbling sound.
"What choice do you have? Does your village have a witch?"
He hesitated only a moment. "Of course."
"Good. I will tell you what your witch must do..."
Chapter Eight (Day Three)
((possible content warning: death of a close relative mentioned, child death mentioned. Not in detail, only mentioned by characters after the fact.))
I don't think I woke all at once. There were flashes of consciousness- a vague memory of being cold, of eyes and steel bars and movement. When I came around, a dark-skinned young man sat opposite me, grey robes draped about his form, face grave. There was a large metal pin on his chest- blue, with the Mars symbol inscribed in black. His eyes met mine, as he forced a smile and got to his feet.
"Hello! I'm sorry, this must be very-"
"Who are you?" I blurted out.
"Oh, yes. Sorry! My name's Riley. I'm from Northpass, here to assist with the werewolf problem."
My heart sank. Northpass. Of course.
"I know what you are. And that's okay! I'm here to find the other wolves, still at large hurting people. Killing people, even."
I finally registered that I was alone in this cell. A cold shock rang through me. Last night... I didn't know what had happened. Anything might have happened. There's no blood, I told myself. It can't be that bad.
"Where's Floren?"
He looked away. "Michael wanted to test a cure. They should be fine."
There's no cure. If there'd been one, Michael would have tried it the previous day. What was he really doing? I closed my hands around the bars to hide the trembling. Michael would kill Floren and then come for me. Floren had been wrong. We'd survived the night, only to die in human form. I fought down panic. I couldn't get enough air.
I'm so sorry.
"Are you okay?" Riley stood. We were about the same height. "What am I saying, how could you be? Can I help?"
"Why bother?" I choked. "You'll just kill me anyway."
"What?"
"There's no cure. Never has been."
He frowned. "You really don't remember?"
"Remember what?" my eyes stung. "What really happened? Did they escape? Or did I- did I kill-?"
"No," his voice was gentle. "No. Mr...Mr Perseverance, nothing like that. It wasn't you. It's never been you. Knowledge this village disturbingly lacks."
He took one of my hands in his own.
"So...I'm not a werewolf?"
"Well um no. You are."
I pulled away. "Talk sense."
"You are a werewolf. But the wolf isn't you. That's not how it works at all. It's an entity with its own will, its own wants and needs."
"How is that different? Wherever I am, a wolf will appear."
He hesitated. "True, but it's not your doing. We can fix this. I have faith."
I really looked at him for the first time. The tiny being in the formless robes did not exactly inspire confidence. But in this one respect, he seemed extremely hopeful. Confident, even. I wondered what I'd missed.
"So Floren might really be cured?" I asked.
He nodded.
A wave of relief washed over me. They hadn't deserved to hurt the people they cared about, and now there was a chance to fix things. A chance, not a certainty, but I clung to it nonetheless. With everything going on positive thinking wasn't easy, and I didn't want to let go of this just yet.
Something was still troubling Riley. He fumbled with his sleeves, bit his lip when he thought I wasn't looking.
There were five wolves...
"Did you find another wolf?" I asked, sounding more hopeful than intended.
He shrugged and shook his head. "No. Don't worry about that."
I chose my next words carefully. "Michael took Floren away...?"
He wasn't hurt?
"He did. That's...it doesn't really matter. You've been through a lot, but it's okay now. If what the wolf- you know, the 'you-that-isn't-you'- said is true, Michael will release you as soon as he returns. Which is surely a pleasant prospect!"
"It is..." I forced him to meet my gaze. There was something very anxious there. "Riley, what aren't you telling me?"
"Hmm?" he blinked, frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not stupid.
He sighed. "I know you're not. I just...I didn't think it was my place to tell you. Streamfarm's grief isn't my grief."
I felt sick.
"Grief? The woman's funeral, or did somebody else...?"
I let the sentence hang. He kept his eyes averted and his robes drawn tightly about him, and wouldn't speak. He only looked up when we heard the door creak open and Michael entered the room. His eyes were tired and red but his voice remained level.
"You were right," he said.
I waited, but he didn't continue.
"What was I right about?" I prompted.
He made a small irritated sound, and gestured towards Riley.
"Take him with you, but keep an eye on him. I'm not letting anyone else die."
Riley dipped his head. "Y-yes, thank-you."
He unlocked the cell and ushered me out of the building, passing me a hooded cloak as we went, which I raised to conceal my face from any prying villagers. Not once did Michael glance up as we left. I wondered who'd died. Nicholas or Amelia? Simon? The nice baker's assistant? Calamity? This last thought prompted a fresh shock of nausea.
"Riley? Who died?"
"It's not my place to say," he murmured. "Come on. We should go before somebody sees you."
"Was it Cal?"
"I don't know who that is," he replied.
That was some relief. At least it wasn't Cal torn to shreds in the jaws of a wolf. I found myself hoping it wasn't Simon, because that would hurt Calamity; or Nicholas, because I couldn't even imagine how devastated Floren would be. I'd seen the look on their face when they learned he'd seen them transform- the two had to be close.
That's selfish. I thought. You're being selfish, Percy. No matter who died, somebody will be affected.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
Riley sighed again. "I have to keep an eye on you. I was going to stay with Michael, but after last night-"
"What happened last night?" I was quicker this time.
He froze for a moment, before his whole body seemed to sag.
"I'm...not very good at this."
"It's okay," I said, tone as gentle as I could manage.
He looked away. "His son died last night."
"Wolves?"
He nodded.
"I'm...he let me go."
"You might have saved him from losing anyone else. But if you think it was an easy decision to make...it really wasn't."
"You helped?"
"I did."
"Thank-you, Riley."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. I wondered what this meant. If there was a cure, why didn't they administer it to the whole village at once? Was it somehow toxic to non-werewolves? Did they want to be certain it worked first? Most importantly, why was wolf-me running around giving people the cure? Wouldn't that be a threat to it as well?
Wolf-me looked different to the other wolves. Perhaps the cure for them wouldn't work on me. Maybe this wolf just wanted free reign of the village. I pushed down that fear.
"I know a place you can stay," I found myself saying. "It's, uh. It's been attacked before, but we all survived, and Calamity has certain...skills."
"Is Calamity the witch?" Riley asked.
I hesitated. "I'm not sure. They never called themself that. They can...know things, I think. It's strange."
"May be a seer. Where do they live?"
I took the lead. "I'll show you."
Chapter Nine (Day Three)Whatever supernatural powers Calamity possessed, they were clearly caught off guard when they opened the door to find us standing there, sweating in the midmorning heat.
"I wasn't expecting company," they said, frowning at Riley. Their eyes took in the robes, the posture, the traditional gesture of greeting, and their expression cleared.
"From Northpass? To whom do I owe this pleasure?"
"Riley Wells," he said. "And it's my very great pleasure to meet you, Esteemed Calamity!"
"The honour is all mine."
They looked at me, not exactly hostile, but nor were they entirely comfortable in my presence. I could understand this uncertainty. In their position, I don't think I would have been comfortable around me either.
"Does Michael know you're here?"
"He let me go," I murmured. "Riley has to keep an eye on me, so I'm not exactly free, but-"
"It's just a precaution," Riley cut in. "This werewolf didn't try to harm Michael last night, and actually taught him how to cure the afflicted."
"Is that the case? How intriguing."
Calamity sighed. "Alright. If a priest of Northpass says this is authorised, who am I to argue?"
"Technically, I haven't finished my training," Riley cut in, gesturing to the blue sash around his waist.
"Well, you're the closest thing to a priest this place has seen in a long time. Come, let's go inside, away from prying eyes. I'm anxious to hear more about this cure."
**
Cal made some tea, which was a little too fruity for my taste, but I wasn't going to be a jerk and say so. I sipped it slowly as Riley related the morning's events with a variety of highly animated gestures, pausing every so often to run a hand over his frizzy hair. Even with the window open, the room was way too warm, and my own scalp felt hot and prickled uncomfortably. I'd been so relieved to finally get out of that cloak.
"His son," Calamity murmured, eyes downcast. They'd barely touched their tea.
"It's awful," Riley agreed. "I can't even imagine what he's going through, but he let Percy go. The cure must have worked."
"The very fact that he wants to cure the werewolves is admirable," Cal said. "In his position, I'm afraid I would be entirely set on revenge."
"It probably helps that the conversation with the wolf happened before he found out," Riley suggested. "And that he knows for a fact Percy and Floren aren't responsible."
"And as for Grace?" Calamity asked, glancing across at me. "Did either of you play a role in that?"
I shrugged. "I didn't, but I'm not sure about Floren. They came home and were... really upset, but human when I saw them. I don't know for sure."
"But they were human?" Riley cut in. "When they were with you, they were human? You both were?"
I nodded.
"Interesting," he mused. "I'll have to do more research, but I know these things can be affected by strong emotions. Especially if you haven't been werewolves very long."
I shrugged. "I don't know how long it's been. I wasn't exactly in a good place that evening, so maybe you're right."
"Is it possible Floren was turned that very night?" Calamity suggested.
"Maybe. This really isn't my area of expertise. We only recently covered this, I'm much better at identifying vampires."
"And yet they send you," Calamity sighed. "Northpass never did much care for us."
"Yeah," Riley murmured. "Can I please examine your arm? I need to make sure you don't become one of these things too."
My mind started to wander. Michael hadn't told Riley very much but, from what the latter could relate, wolf-me mentioned that a witch was capable of providing the cure we needed. If it worked for Floren, would they offer it to me next? I again caught myself wondering if this cure would even work for me. Why would the wolf give it to us and endanger its own existence? A wolf first, and a person second. That might be all I was: a wolf hiding amongst the sheep, picking off the competition so that it could have the flock all to itself.
You can't think like that. You have to keep going, for their sake if nothing else.
The tea had a strong scent, and was warm in my hands. I focussed on this. Focussed on thoughts of Cal, Simon and Floren, and everyone else I'd met in this close-knit little village. I couldn't let them down. I couldn't let this tear them apart. I had to keep going. I counted to ten, sipped the tea, and felt a little more in control.
I set down my mug with a soft clunk. Riley and Calamity both looked up.
"Calamity, what exactly can you do?" I asked. "Riley called you a seer?"
Riley returned to peeling back the dressing. Calamity smiled.
"It's not exactly a secret."
"Yeah?"
"Seer is the traditional term for any number of talented individuals who...see beyond the reach of others. It's an innate ability but, just as any other, can be honed and refined. I can gaze into the souls of others and examine what lies within."
I blinked. "So you know if somebody's good or evil?"
They folded their hands in their lap. "I'm a little more sensitive than that. I can interpret motivation, intent. Any affliction of the soul- I would know if my chosen target was a werewolf, for example. Unfortunately, these abilities greatly tax the mind, and I need time to recover between each examination."
"A week is the standard," Riley cut in.
Calamity's smile broadened. "Really, my dear? You insult me. A day is all I typically require. I can tell you that Amelia is exactly who she says she is, and that Emma- that young woman from the bakery, Percy- is merely a frightened teen prepared to do whatever's necessary to defend herself and her loved ones. Suffice to say, you shouldn't go near her, but she's not a danger to the village at large."
I thought back to that awful morning, when I woke on the blood-soaked floor with Calamity looming over me. They'd said they were distracted when the werewolves struck.
"You do this...seer-thing...at night?" I asked.
"For now. The long-term effects can be...somewhat unsettling, but I'm willing to maintain this process until all wolves are located."
"Amelia and Emma are definitely not werewolves?" I clarified.
They nodded.
I struggled to articulate my thoughts:
"We know I'm not a threat to Cal. I can stay here at night. During the day...well, I should talk to this witch as soon as possible, and then I want to help find the remaining werewolves."
If the witch can even help me. The thoughts were closing back in. My chest felt tight and, as I forced my hands to release their hold on the table, I noticed I'd clawed marks into the polished surface. I lay my hands flat in front of me to hide the evidence.
"They're holding a memorial for Grace this afternoon," Calamity pointed out. "They may or may not combine it with a memorial for the child, it's...not a good time to be poking about when, I'm afraid, they already hate you."
"Who is your witch? Could you ask them to visit me, after the service?"
"I could try," Calamity frowned. "That may not be well received. It's a service for the victims of werewolf attacks, after all."
"Hold still," Riley murmured, fumbling through a pouch inside his cloak. "This looks clean, but I want to be sure."
I gestured helplessly. "Please, Calamity, can you just try? I want this to be over as much as everybody else."
Calamity shrugged, to a muttered protest from Riley, still bent over them.
"Curse my bleeding heart. Not everyone in Streamfarm likes me either- but for you, Percy, I'll do what I can."
Chapter Ten (Day Three)It was late afternoon when Simon burst through the door, shaking and bloodied, and I was hit with a sense of deja vu. Calamity and Riley were at Grace's memorial, so I took his hand and lead him to an empty chair, where he collapsed with obvious relief.
"Who did this?" I asked. I wished Riley was here. I had no idea how to deal with that head wound.
He flinched away from my touch. "You're a werewolf."
For some reason this angered me. To avoid saying something I'd regret, I moved to lock the door. It wouldn't stand against anyone who seriously wanted to harm him, but it seemed to reassure the young man. As I sat down opposite, Simon was starting to get his breathing back under control, and some of the tension had left his shoulders.
"You're a werewolf?" he said again. This time, it sounded more like a question.
"Who hurt you?"
He shied away. "I don't want to get her in trouble. She's- she's lost enough already."
Alice?
"Why would she do this, Simon?" I asked. "Is she a werewolf?"
He shook his head. "No. I think I am."
He spoke quietly and wouldn't make eye contact. Were the whole freakin' town guard wolves?
"It'll be okay. I promise."
"I killed Michael's kid!" his voice cracked. "That'll never 'be okay'."
I didn't have a reponse for that one. "Look, okay, wait here. We need to clean that out."
In spite of his earlier refusal to be touched, Simon stayed perfectly straight and still, allowing me to clean and dress the injury to the best of my ability. Afterwards I made up some tea, and we sat together in a ray of sun.
"Tell me what happened," I said, keeping my tone gentle.
He closed his eyes and pressed the mug to his chest. "She...I don't know. She found me last night, maybe I found her. All I remember is waking on the ground, and everything hurt, and...Amelia pulled her off me and I fled. Didn't know where to go. Cal would hate me."
"Cal would never hate you."
"You don't know Cal. They've had bad experiences with monsters."
I made a mental note to ask them about that later.
"It's okay," I repeated. "It's scary, I understand. But there's hope. There's a cure."
He blinked. "There is? Have you...done that?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "Calamity promised to ask your witch today, after the funeral."
"Right."
"Michael said it worked for Floren."
Simon didn't respond. He seemed doubtful, but there was something else there too. Guilt, or...not quite. Shame? Something like that. He blamed himself- of course he did, why wouldn't he? I did the same. No matter how many times you were told it wasn't your fault, it didn't change the fact that if you'd only known sooner, you could have acted accordingly. You could have prevented those deaths. Still, I had to try.
I placed a hand on his arm. "None of this is your fault. It's okay to mourn, but you don't need forgiveness, because it simply isn't your fault. I mean that."
He looked away. "Thank-you. I really do want to believe that."
"It'll take time, but I hope you can."
We sat in silence. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He didn't cry, or get angry, or even start blaming me like Floren had. I wondered how much that blow to the head affected things. Was he concussed? Or did he just need time alone to process? I stood and starting clearing away our mugs, hoping this would give him a chance to think things through without distractions.
"Please don't leave," Simon said.
A memory emerged: when I'd asked Calamity to stay and talk, because I was afraid of my own mind. I turned and forced a smile.
"Then I won't. Would you like more tea?"
"I don't know. What time is it?"
"A little before six. They shouldn't be much longer now."
He looked at his knees.
"Yeah. They'll bring Mildred?"
The witch?
"I don't know," a pause. "I think they will if Amelia or Alice shared what happened."
"Good."
I wanted to keep Simon talking, but I didn't know what we could discuss besides recent events. Our conversation grew increasingly forced as I asked him first about his childhood, then his favourite colour, and finally favourite foods.
"I don't know. Most people think Mildred's cooking is pretty awful, but I really like it. She does this one soup with potato, parsnip and pumpkin and stuff. Cal thinks it's too plain, but I think it's more like...the natural flavours shine through? It's nice."
"We could ask her to make it for you?" I suggested.
"Maybe."
The murmur of voices outside, coming steadily closer. I listened to ensure it wasn't an angry mob here to set us all ablaze. Sure enough, I soon recognised Cal's hoarse tones. Riley was with them, and a third voice I couldn't quite place- cool, detached. Presumably this was the witch, Mildred.
I went to meet them at the door. Cal had traded their heavy coat for fraying silk, which still far outclassed the attire of the tall, slender, middle-aged woman beside them. Her ginger hair was pinned up in a rough bun and she wore black- suitable for a memorial, but I imagined it wasn't easy in this heat. As soon as she saw me, something in her tone changed. It became warm and gentle, and I wondered at this.
"Perseverance, is that right? I think we need to talk. It seems Michael didn't tell you everything he should have, which isn't fair at all."
"I would really appreciate that," I said. "First, there's somebody else here who'd like to talk."
Mildred had barely stepped inside the room when Calamity brushed past her, making straight for their brother, who was standing awkwardly by the table. He hadn't even finished saying their name when they wrapped their arms around him, drawing him into a tight hug.
"Si, I'm so sorry. I should have made sure you were okay-"
"It's fine, Cal," he managed to gasp. "You're kind of- my lungs."
They let him go and stepped back, brushing a hand across their eyes. Mildred stood with Riley and I, a polite smile plastered across her face. When she was certain Calamity was done for the moment, she made her move.
"Please, come with me. I can work more easily from home. In fact if you follow me as well, Perseverance, we can get this all sorted out rather quickly."
Chapter Eleven (Day Three)I just wanted Mildred to explain this cure, so I could get it over with and find the remaining wolves before anyone else got hurt. At least the guards knew roughly as much as we did, and if any of them actually were human perhaps they would make some progress tonight. Maybe they could even make this progress without dying. I wasn’t supremely confident in this hope.
It was only an hour or so until nightfall. If Mildred fixed us before then, I would do what I could, although I wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful. There was only an hour or so of daylight left, and an hour is barely enough time for even mundane procedures. Our chances for that night were slim, and my insides felt all tense and wriggly. I had irrational visions of my skin falling away and a wolf-monster running off into the night, which I knew wasn’t how it worked at all, but my brain refused to listen to reason.
Calamity and Riley came with us- Calamity to support their brother, Riley because he was curious to see what Mildred actually planned on doing. Simon didn’t talk much, bundled up awkwardly in that cloak Riley had earlier given me, casting the occasional backward glance in my direction. I realised that I was probably the one one here who understood what he was dealing with. The knowledge filled me with a totally unwelcome additional sense of responsibility. He’d helped when I blacked out between here and Scarsden, he’d brought me back to his sibling (why them and not Mildred, I couldn’t fathom- but then, I didn’t really know a lot about Cal, all things considered.) I couldn’t abandon him now. Calamity and Riley weren’t a threat to Simon but, as far as anyone else was concerned, it might take a fair amount of effort repairing relations with the unfortunate young man. I had to be there for him while I could.
Mildred’s house was apparently on the opposite side of the village to Calamity, and stood apart from the others. Reaching it therefore took much longer than ideal. My heart clenched and fear lanced downward through my chest as I noticed the position of the sun, already sinking behind a distant hill. We passed the little bakery and awful, awful tiny tiny jail, which did nothing for my nerves. Mildred's home was up a short flight of steps, with flowers by the door and a little vegetable garden visible beneath the stairs. I wondered if we would be treated to her famous cooking- I was hungry and wondering how boring it could really be. I shook this thought away because, honestly, there were way more important things to focus on!
In the doorway Mildred held out a hand to stop me.
"I should see to Simon first. Floren can explain everything, if they’re up to it. If not, I promise to go through this with you as soon as I’m done.”
So they were still here. I might have expected as much but, with everything else going on, it had slipped my mind.
"I’d rather wait. We’re not on good terms.”
She shrugged. "You’ve only known them a few days. Maybe you didn’t get off to a good start, but last year I prescribed a tincture which made them hallucinate for a solid fortnight. They forgive easily. You'll be fine."
Hallucinating is leagues different from being turned into a werewolf, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I followed the group through the door, and Floren was there, and suddenly I wished I had tried a little harder to argue. With the possible exception of Michael, I would have rather talked to literally anyone else.
They clearly weren’t well. They were too pale, and their skin looked clammy even from this distance, their lovely hair slick with sweat. They smiled when they saw me, but it didn't reach their eyes. Simon gave them a wary little nod, which they returned in kind. I squeezed his hand and smiled, and he nodded again, disappearing after Mildred.
As everyone else left, I hovered uncertainly in the doorway. She’d made it clear that I wasn’t to follow the others, but it made things really awkward. I thought about closing the door and waiting on the doorstep until Mildred came back, but if Floren noticed me standing there, that would be even more awkward. Was there another room nearby? I didn’t know the layout of this house at all. Could I pretend I was only helping the others get here, and just leave? I could go away and come back through another door. Or maybe a window?
I needed to talk to them. It would probably be good to learn about this cure before I went along with it, there were clearly side effects. On the other hand, there was very little which might persuade me against going ahead, so what was wrong with just waiting for Mildred? Surely she would be back before the sun fully set. She wouldn’t have left me alone with Floren if she was going to take any longer. Then again they had first-hand experience with the cure, and whatever they related might help me prepare myself for whatever was to come, if nothing else.
"I'd like to talk, if you have time?" they asked, making the decision for me.
"Of course."
I folded my arms. Stay calm, Percy. It wasn’t as if their presence was unexpected- I’d already known Mildred must have treated them, after all. Floren rose and their legs buckled, but they caught themself on the edge of the table.
"Oh, geez, I'm sorry," I was already beside them. "I should have just come over. I also have legs, and I was already standing and stuff."
"No, it's fine," they blinked at me. "I’m fine. Just not feeling great."
"Um, you don’t have to stay standing."
"You're too kind."
I waited patiently. But apparently I'm not very good at being patient, because I reached my limit for that after the third time they seemed about to say something, only to...well, not say something. I needed to know what Floren wanted to say! They didn't seem angry, but I tried not to get my hopes up. Perhaps their time here had just helped them regain their self-control. Maybe their inability to stand without nearly passing out simply overwhelmed any actual anger.
"What did you want to talk about?" I prompted.
They bit their lip, ran a hand over their forehead and through their hair. They finally spoke, albeit haltingly.
"I wanted this to be more heartfelt, I honestly wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. The general gist is: I'm sorry I was such a jerk."
It was a relief to know they didn't hate me, but I also felt really bad, because I understood why they'd been hostile but now they felt bad about it. In their situation I wouldn’t have been very happy with me either! They looked genuinely sad. Or maybe just nauseous. It was hard to tell. Maybe both?
"You weren't a jerk," I said.
"I was. We're in the same situation, I was being selfish.”
"Oh my god," I clapped both hands over my face- I could not believe this, it was ridiculous. "Floren! It's fine, I'm just happy you're not mad."
They laughed softly, and I peeked between my fingers. They were smiling genuinely now. It was such a nice smile, even if the rest of them didn't look so nice right then. I returned the gesture. It was nice knowing they forgave me: one less thing to worry about, no matter how small.
"Anyway," Floren continued, "if you'll have me, I'd like to be friends. You're a genuinely kind man who we probably don’t deserve."
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
"Yeah. That sounds nice."
I could hear the murmur of voices from an adjoining room, but nobody was shouting and they didn’t sound overly panicked, so at least there was that. Awkward stuff out of the way, I turned the words over in my head, trying to work out how to best phrase my question, or even precisely what I needed to say. The cure. I needed to know what it was. Eventually I decided I would just have to go for it and take things as they came.
“Floren?”
They glanced at me. Their eyes were rimmed in red, it was difficult to look. “Yeah?”
“Mildred mentioned a cure. For this whole werewolf-thing. Michael and Riley won’t give me details. It sucks. I just want to know so I can sort this out.”
I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. “Nobody’s telling me anything, and if it’s not too much, I was hoping you could explain?”
For several moments they picked at a sleeve. Again they started several times to say something, before cutting themself off. I was growing increasingly impatient with this behaviour. Before I could snap and say something I’d regret, they sighed and licked their lips and went ahead:
“I don’t know what to say, Percy. It’s not really a cure. I’m still a werewolf.”
Their words rang through me like a cold shock. They winced and broke eyes contact, but went on:
“Mildred made it sound a lot better than I ever could. You both said- or rather, Mildred and that wolf said- quite a lot about the process, actually. It means the werewolves can remember our lives and, more importantly, be affected by them. It stops them from hurting people. Looking at you, that seems to be true. It helped us. Do you understand? You’ve already been ‘cured’ but it’s not...it’s not like that. We’re still werewolves. Just less dangerous than before.”
I laughed because otherwise I’d cry. So there wasn’t any real hope after all, just monsters guilt-tripped into placidity.
“I can’t even remember my own life,” I managed.
“They shouldn’t have got your hopes up,” Floren said softly.
“How can it remember me when I don’t remember me?”
I tried not to think about the position of the sun.
“I don’t know. All I know is I remember those nights now, and it explains a lot. Something went wrong, and you don’t remember anything, but the wolf does. Maybe we can learn things. Maybe it’ll tell us who you are.”
“I don’t care about that,” I said quickly. I knew it was a lie. “I just want to find those wolves and fix this village.”
A wolf first and a man second.
What if that was true? What if this was why I looked different to the others, why I couldn’t remember things, perhaps even why I was here in the first place? Was it so unthinkable that a werewolf might roam the land infecting others? How many other villages could have fallen because of me? Might it have only shared its knowledge so that the werewolves could influence the humans? Make them more sympathetic to the creatures’ actions?
Floren was speaking again. “I can narrow down who they might be, but it’ll take time. I never saw them transform. We only spent a few nights together.”
I could hear their voice, but couldn’t process what they were saying. It sounded very distant and unimportant, like rain on the roof.
They enunciated their next words with care. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t think I was, but I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.
“You defended Calamity, did you know that? Fought me off, called me ‘bestial’. You wouldn’t have said that if you wanted to hurt people. I think this will work. It makes the wolves more like us- less bestial.”
I couldn’t say what I was thinking. I still don’t know if that was just fear, or something else. They waited for a moment and, when I didn’t speak, merely nodded and looked away.
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
Your name is an anchor.
“Perseverance,” I managed to choke out.
“What was that?”
I exhaled stiffly. “I can do this. If I go looking for the other werewolves, it’ll remember this and continue. Right?”
They didn’t seem confident.
“I think that’s how it works. But I can’t go with you, Percy, and you shouldn’t do this alone. You almost died protecting Calamity.”
“There are only two left,” I reminded them.
“Do you want them dead? What if it does?”
That made me hesitate. Wasn’t this wolf supposed to be more like me? Wasn’t that why it defended Calamity? Then again, it had defended Calamity by mauling Floren. Would it kill these other wolves in self defence? Two more villagers would be dead. Two-for-two wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t letting any more people die. What happened wasn’t their fault- they deserved better than death.
I didn’t have time to come up with a new plan. A blood-curdling shriek interrupted my thoughts, drowning out more familiar human cries. That shriek wasn’t human, and the resultant snarling and shattering of glass was equally alarming. Before I knew it I was in the room, standing before a broken window, the wind and rain spattering my face. Calamity was in the corner, glassy-eyed, one hand groping blindly for where their cutlass should have been. Riley stood beside me, speechless. Simon was gone.
We stared at each other. I didn’t know why he’d shifted before us, or where he’d gone. I saw my own anxiety and confusion reflected in Floren as I glanced over at them, leaning on the doorframe. Mildred was studying one of her potions with evident annoyance.
“It should have worked,” she hissed. “It worked for them.”
“We need to go. We have to find him,” I insisted.
“It’s past dusk,” Calamity protested. I could see the fear in their eyes. They weren’t holding together much better than I was.
“I don’t care. We can’t leave him out there alone.”
Maybe it would be okay. Maybe this burst of adrenaline would be enough to fight off the change. I just had to get outside and find this werewolf before it maimed anyone or got itself killed. Simple in theory. I tried not to fixate on how dangerous it would be in practice.
I barely registered Floren’s collapse before the world cut out.
Chapter Twelve (Night Four)(much violence, very rarr. Character deaths are 'offscreen', so to speak, and I
think this is okay.)
#5edgy. After this stage I'm not doing anything randomly because this chapter was a MESS, and also I need to wrap stuff up.
It was gone. It was gone, and they needed to find it before it killed anyone else. The white wolf felt this as a shard of burning clarity buried deep in its skull, urging it ever onward. This was it. This was what everything had led to- a final confrontation with the local werewolves. Tonight it would die, or it would finally realise its goal.
"I hate you," its smaller companion growled, in the expressive tongue of their kind. "I despise you. I loathe you with the full intensity of one who has completed a kill, only to have it snatched away before it can taste the fruit of its efforts."
"I know," a pause to scent the air. "I hate you too. If not for my human, I would tear you apart where you now stand. I have been denied this for far too long. But we need to find the noisy one. We cannot let it kill again."
"I'm hungry."
"I don't care. Hear those chickens, whelp? Hunt them. I don't need you."
"It's not the same," it whined. "Not a real hunt. You took that from me."
The larger wolf whirled, jaws parted, ears flat against its skull.
"You infuriate me. Forget the human- if you keep complaining I'll bite your ears off."
The smaller wolf barked a retort, fur bristling, but its partner was no longer paying attention. It had turned away, rearing up on its hind legs, snuffling at the air. It was a few days after the full moon, its form more humanoid than before and comfortably bipedal for short periods of time. The smaller wolf froze, tan muzzle contorted in confusion, nostrils flaring in vain. Whatever its companion had noticed totally escaped it.
"What?" it growled.
A gunshot rent the air, followed by a high-pitched squeal. The white wolf fell into a run, no longer concerned with stealth as it hurtled down the narrow cobblestone path. It knew what it would see, and found that it very much did not want to look. As it passed through a gaping door its fingers splayed and it scrambled to a halt, eyes narrowed, taking in the scene around it. They didn't have long: from Mildred's it would take the guards only a few minutes to arrive. It fought the instinct to flee and instead examined the scene.
A dark-furred wolf, fur matted with blood, sprawled unconscious partway along the hall. The white wolf slipped by without a second glance, even as its companion cried out and ran to the creature's side. It whimpered at its fallen packmate in increasingly frantic tones, but the white wolf knew it would do no good. The creature was beyond help. They'd failed.
The young woman lying beyond the wolf was in much the same state. It took the white werewolf several moments to recognise her. When it did, the groan which escaped its maw was all too human. She wasn't breathing. A pistol lay beside her outstretched arm.
"Emma. Oh, no."
"It's not moving," the smaller wolf whimpered. Its ears suddenly swivelled forward. "Wait, Emma?"
It actually yelped. "No! Oh, no. Why do I care? Stupid human, why are they doing this to me?"
"Because that's how this works," the white wolf brushed past it, making for the exit. "We need to go. If anyone finds us here-"
A low warning growl. Another wolf rounded the corner- moving very slowly, hackles raised, looming on its hind legs to stare them down. Its gaze flickered from the prone figure of its companion, to the motionless human girl, and that growl deepened.
"This situation is not yours to address. Leave us."
"What about me?" the smaller wolf hissed, moving between the two. "This was my packmate as well."
The newcomer's growl became a snarl and it lunged, forcing the speaker back under its handlike paws. The smaller werewolf yelped and struggled, but it had been taken by surprise and was well and truly pinned. Its aggressor dug in its claws and the creature yelped again.
"Let me go!"
"You have been tainted. They have done something to you. I don't like it. You arrived with this one. You will leave with this one."
"We're not friends," it whimpered, pushing at the other with its hind legs. "You can have the girl! I just want to get justice for my packmate."
The whole time, the large white wolf followed the proceedings, ears and hackles raised. It needed to leave, but it couldn't let this werewolf escape. If the humans saw the white wolf here, it didn't know what they would do. They might shoot it, and then all would be lost. But if it fled, wouldn't that seem more indicative of guilt? If this other wolf escaped, wouldn't far worse things occur? Michael knew the white wolf was on his side. Perhaps his little band would understand. It clung to this hope.
The newcomer wisely kept the third werewolf pinned between itself and this known adversary, but it made no difference. Once set on a course of action the white wolf sprang, hurtling onto the creature and forcing it back in a blur of fur and fang. The smallest wolf squealed, wriggling out from beneath the snarling duo, deep bloody gashes along its flank. They snapped and snarled at each other for several moments, their movements a blur of white and black fur, but before the smaller wolf could even try to intervene it was already over. The pale wolf, fur bristling and lips drawn back over huge savage fangs, had the newcomer pinned.
That was, of course, the exact moment pain exploded through the white wolf's shoulder, staggering it. It howled and reeled back to see one of the useless humans in the doorway- Nicholas, it thought this one was called- with the female human at his side. Its adversary took advantage of the injury and sprang for its throat, snapping and snarling, but the smaller wolf was already there. It threw its whole weight against their enemy, propelling it into the wall and itself along with it. Their rival slumped and the smaller wolf turned, limping slightly, jaws parted in what the white wolf knew must look alarmingly aggressive to the humans, although it was in reality merely a grimace. Blood oozed from an open wound, matting its fur.
"Who's this?" Nicholas demanded, toeing the dead wolf with a boot. Amelia had spotted the human corpse further in, but was not about to force her way past two werewolves to get at it. Especially not when one of them looked like it was about to bite her.
"Why did you do that?" the white wolf growled in that impossible human tongue. "I'm helping you. You know that."
"I'll believe it when I see it," he snapped. "Now. Tell me who that is."
Why was it helping these people? It was true that the wound would be gone by the next time it woke- that was the advantage of being a kind of spirit rather than permanent flesh. That didn't change the fact that right now it was in a lot of pain, and in spite of its best efforts these humans just wouldn't leave it alone. It wasn't as if they were a whole lot better to 'Percy'- why did either of them care what happened to the idiotic little villagers?
To its surprise, the other wolf spoke:
"It's probably your Simon," it said slowly. "I can't be sure. We were following it and then we found these bodies."
"And who's that?" Amelia interjected, using a pistol to gesture at the other body, half-hidden behind them both.
The smaller wolf whined. The white wolf raised its head.
"Emma," it growled. "That other wolf- keep an eye on it, whelp- is probably that baker."
Both humans went through a series of emotions very, very fast. The werewolves could smell as much as see it- despair, anger, fear. Amelia eventually nodded, stepping forward and again gesturing with her weapon. The white wolf wished she wouldn't. Its companion growled, back pressed to the wall, struggling to keep an eye on both humans as well as the rival wolf.
"You're scaring it," Nicholas murmured.
"I don't care."
"Be careful."
She gestured at both wolves. "Lie down."
The larger wolf laughed. "Gladly. You do understand, I am bleeding quite a lot here?"
"Tell your friend to stop growling."
The wolf turned its head. "Floren, stop that."
The growling intensified. "Do not call me this name. I'm not them."
"Then quit acting like a terrified little human. It will be fine. We will wait for morning. That is what you want from us, Amelia?"
She blanched as it said her name, but nodded. "Yeah."
"Good."
Words were exchanged, and Nicholas left. The smaller wolf watched him intently, ears trained forward, body tensed. He didn't look back, and when he was gone it returned to watching their motionless adversary. The white wolf noted this even as it turned its attention to Amelia.
"We are going to pin it down. It won't be out for very long. I am going to move now. Please do not shoot me again, that would be highly regrettable."
She nodded. It limped into position beside the fallen wolf, seized the scruff of its neck in its teeth, pressed its one good hand down between its shoulderblades. Even this small amount of movement hurt, and the white wolf fought the urge to whimper at the fire in its own shoulder. The smaller wolf actually lay across their adversary, got its jaws around its neck, leaned in. The white wolf growled a soft warning, and the smaller replied with a similarly plaintive note. It didn't release its hold.
Amelia watched and waited from the doorway. It was a long, tense night.
**
The white wolf shifted back first, a full-body shudder erasing it from existence. Its rival started struggling again, pushing back against its sole remaining aggressor, but before either of them could finish what they started they too were human.
Percy recovered first, rolling to his knees on the bloodstained floor. His throat was like sandpaper, and his heart pounded in his skull. Where was he? He'd wanted to find Simon, he'd told Calamity as much, what had happened since that moment? As his vision cleared, he squinted at the prone forms either side of him, and the dead werewolf ahead.
"Floren," his voice shook. "Where are we? Who is this?"
"Mmmm?"
"This place. Them. I don't- is Simon dead?"
They lifted their head. "I think so. We were too late. "
"He's dead."
"Oh, Percy," Floren sighed, moving between him and the bodies. "I'm so sorry. Maybe it's best if you leave."
He'd already seen her. With a sharp breath, Percy pushed past Floren to examine the small motionless form.
"Emma!"
"Percy, please calm down."
"Both of you get back," Amelia warned.
Percy was on his knees, two fingers on Emma's wrist. Amelia didn't waver. Floren held out their hands, looking up at her.
"Please, don't. "
"Just stay there," she hissed, dismissing them with a flick of her hand. "He'll be back with help. We need to work out exactly what happened here."
They glanced at Percy, sobbing into one filthy palm, and then over at Grey, who was staring off into space. Floren glared at Amelia.
"Would you want to stay down here with their bodies? You need to take Grey to Mildred. I can tell you what happened."
She glared back. "Do you think I like this situation? We know what we're doing. You know that, so be patient."
That shut them up. They turned to Grey, placing both hands carefully on his shoulders.
"Grey, please look at me. Don't look at them. It's going to be okay."
Their voice wasn't at all level, and both of them were trembling, but Grey did manage a brief nod. Percy glanced over at them, and Floren ran their gaze over the small unsteady man. His eyes were red. There was blood on his hands and face. To be fair, the others weren't much better off. They seemed like so many small frightened children, and Floren knew it was unkind to think of them this way, but the idea struck them and wouldn't go away. A child wouldn't understand. It's very different.
Floren suddenly froze. Grey flinched as their hand tightened across his shoulder.
"Floren-"
They pulled away. "I'm an idiot. I know who it is."
"What?" Amelia demanded.
They hesitated before looking at her. "The final werewolf. Small. Too small to be an adult. After what happened with his son, it must be his daughter. Did you see him at all last night?"
"Whose daughter?" Amelia asked. Her voice shook. She already knew.
"His daughter killed his son."
Chapter Thirteen (Day Four)For a while I thought I would be sick. Thankfully I wasn't, because I doubt the others would have taken that well at all. I didn't feel much like eating regardless. My friend was dead. I'd promised to help him, and now he was dead, and that poor girl had been caught up in everything.
Floren was hunkered down beside me, one hand on my back, gesturing with the other for Nicholas' benefit. Calamity had arrived with the latter, but Amelia quickly took them into another room while he spoke with the rest of us. Cal didn't seem right: their features were drained of all colour and it looked like their ears might be bleeding. Their nose definitely was. Riley and Mildred had left with Grey, but the two bodies still lay in the middle of the hall. By now I'd managed to avert my gaze and the werewolf was just barely visible at the corner of my vision. I couldn't think of it as Simon. I wasn't ready for that just yet.
"It's not my daughter," Nicholas snapped. "I would know."
"Which is why it has to be her. Where did he go?"
Nicholas hesitated. "Why would I tell you?"
"I don't know. Maybe because we were supposed to work on this together, or because you're my brother and we trust each other?"
He bristled at that, but shook his head and didn't reply. I touched Floren's knee to get their attention. They glanced down more sharply than expected.
"Yes Percy?"
"You can stand," I murmured. "I'll be fine. I'm not looking at them."
"Percy, you're not fine."
Neither are you.
"It doesn't matter."
They sighed, climbed stiffly to their feet and went to speak with Nicholas. I could hear the low murmur of Amelia and Calamity's voices in the next room, more so the former than the latter. I hoped Cal was okay. They'd survived horrible things before, right? They implied as much when explaining their name. I wanted to talk to them, but knew Nicholas wouldn't let me, and didn't think my body was going to obey my brain in any case.
From what I could tell, after Michael's son died, his daughter went missing. Now he was missing as well, or at least wasn't in Streamfarm, so far as I could glean from Floren's repeated requests for information on that front. It hurt to think. I'd failed so many people already, and that was only those I could remember in the three days of memory I actually had access to. Who else had died because of me? How much more suffering had I failed to prevent?
I realised I was envious of Floren. I wished I had the wolf's memories. My own were so meager and incomplete, but it knew who I was. It knew about everything which happened before I woke in the mud of an unknown land with a stranger standing over me.
"So Alice is clear," Floren glanced over, presumably to make me feel included in their conversation. "Cal tried to see more, they tried to see their brother and overstretched themself. We can't ask any more of them for the forseeable future. Michael is looking for his daughter, who could be pretty much anywhere and is most likely a werewolf."
I pictured this child out there terrified, soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold and rain Alone, afraid, probably hypothermic if we didn't find her before long. And with no way of understanding what was happening...
"So this little kid is out there alone?" I felt so bad for her.
"We don't know that," Nicholas insisted. "Someone might have found her."
Which would put said someone in a lot of danger. So many people had been hurt and more were still at risk...did we really want to give a child access to those memories? I considered asking Floren, but pushed the thought aside. It wasn't like we had a choice. It was either integrate this kid, or let more people die.
Floren eyed the fallen werewolf. "We should move the bodies."
"We still need to have them properly examined."
Floren rounded on him. "Well then, why are we standing here and not doing that? He's not going to help you. I think he's past all that, even if he hasn't gone and gotten himself killed."
They were of similar height and build, but Floren had their brother backed into a corner, gesturing violently for emphasis with one hand. Nicholas ducked beneath their arm, circling to a halt beside me.
"Calm down, okay? Fine. You want to move them. I get that."
"They were our friends, Nico."
"I get that. It was never going to be easy. Don't do this to me."
"You act like it's nothing."
I stood, bracing myself against the wall for support. "We need to do something."
Nicholas didn't acknowledge me. "That's not true at all, and you know it."
"Do I?"
I raised my voice. "We need to find her. Does she have any favourite places?"
Nicholas took a step forward.
"You're being childish. We can't go tampering with the only evidence we have."
"I am evidence!" they practically screeched, clawing at their hair. "Does my testimony mean nothing to you? The wolf was already dying when we got here.”
I grabbed Nicholas' arm and spun him towards me before he could do more than draw breath to retort. He blinked down at me, clearly taken aback by this sudden display of strength. Even I hesitated, unsure where that came from, but I rallied myself in time to defuse the situation.
"Breathe. Both of you," I said, finally remembering to do so myself.
"I don't-"
"Please. It's very simple. We need to find this girl, and we have a whole day. Don't panic. So. Tell me about her. What's her name? Does she have any favourite haunts?"
"Elizabeth," said Floren. "Sometimes Lizzie."
"She's eleven years old," Nicholas added. "Long light brown hair. Blue eyes."
"Lots of freckles."
I nodded.
"Good start. And favourite places? Can you think of any? Places which would seem safe?"
Floren sank against the wall. Nicholas glanced down at Emma's body, hesitated, and then shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. We'll work something out. If somebody in the village found her, I'm sure we'd know about it. They'd want to return her to her father, who is...also not here. So. Beyond the village. Any caves? Bits of forest?"
"A cave," Floren said.
I really hoped they could give me more than just that.
"What was that?" Nicholas demanded.
"A cave," they repeated. They were shaking again, and I realised I didn't know if they'd actually eaten since we first met. "Past the farm there're two hills. They kind of meet in the middle. Between them there's a cave with water trickling out of it. Big piece of slate over the top. Allie told me Elizabeth sometimes goes there to sulk, but Allie sits outside and bangs sticks together and yells at her."
"I never heard this," Nicholas interjected.
"Because you're her dad, you don't get to be the cool relative," for a moment, they seemed almost smug, before they sighed and continued.
"Obviously, what happened to her brother...she'll be scared. She'll want to go somewhere that feels safe. Home isn't safe because that's where the bad stuff happened."
Floren looked at Nicholas. Nicholas glanced at Floren, then at me, and then frowned intently at the floor.
"We need to find Michael too," he said slowly. "I can't leave you two together. In case this takes too long. Work it out amongst yourselves. I need to talk to Amelia."
I wasn't sure of his logic, but wasn't about to argue. He was right about one thing: two people were missing, and it was in our best interests to find them both before sundown.
"I'll find him," Floren sighed at length. "Percy, be careful."
I moved towards them. "Don't worry about me. Should I help you up?"
"Give me a moment."
I slid down the wall to join them. They glanced at me, their eyes the only thing remotely alive in that face. They looked worse than Cal, and the latter had been actively bleeding from their face. Should I really be letting them do anything at all? What if they got attacked again like at the prison?
"We'll find Elizabeth," I assured them. "Are you sure you want to find Michael? You could look after Calamity, or help Grey through...whatever actually happens. We can do this. We're so close."
"I'm sure," Floren examined their hands. "Grey will be okay. He has Mildred. I'll talk to Cal before I go, but I can't just stay here. Not when he's missing too."
They curled into me, cupping one hand loosely over my own. It was clammy and gross but I resisted the urge to pull away, because they clearly needed the contact, and I wasn't about to be a massive jerk. After a moment they spoke again.
"We've lost so much. I don't think-"
"Then don't think. Just for now, okay? We can get through this. Nobody else needs to die."
They smiled sadly. "I hope you're right. Be careful."
"You too. Please take care of yourself, Floren. I mean it."
Chapter Fourteen (Day Four)In the end it was Amelia who accompanied me out into the rain. The others took Calamity to Mildred’s and, while I knew finding the final werewolf was more important, I felt terrible leaving Cal like this. They’d cleaned the blood off their face but they were so pale, almost grey, and seemed dazed when I spoke with them. Hopefully Mildred would be able to help. It made sense that a witch would know about complications of seer magic, right? I hoped that was the case.
Amelia didn’t talk much, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Thus it was a quiet, slightly awkward journey- right up until I heard my name and saw Riley barrelling down the dirt path, robes whipping about his legs. Oh no. What happened?
He skidded to a halt, swore loudly, and clutched at my arm. Turned around quickly, scanning the quiet streets for something as he struggled to speak:
"They- they-"
He scrunched my sleeve tight between his fingers, eyes wide and fearful as he pulled me onward. "They don't trust me! They're coming for- for me, for you too. P- Percy! They don't trust the guards either, but they know you and Floren are werewolves. They were going to use me as- as leverage! She wants you dead!"
“Floren,” my heart raced as I fought back another surge of panic.
"They'll be fine," Amelia said tightly. "Nicholas is with them."
"But they don't trust him either."
"Be quiet," she hissed, and we broke into a run as we cleared the outskirts of the village. "What exactly did you see?"
"I saw her once before," Riley gasped. "Don’t know her name. She was so angry, she had a knife, and there were three of them who caught me and she threatened me-"
Alice.
He whimpered. "I'm just an acolyte!
"It's fine, I won't let them hurt you," Amelia said tersely, flinging a glance back over her shoulder. "They may think we've left town."
"I don't want to die, Ms Amelia."
She pulled him behind a boulder. I followed, although there was nobody else in sight. I wondered if she'd seen something I hadn't. Amelia was more accustomed to the area than me, after all. As I crouched down beside them, resisting the urge to peer out at the village behind us, Amelia placed her hands on Riley's shoulders and leaned in.
"You will be okay," she said, enunciating each word with care. "Stay with me and I'll make sure you're okay."
He bit his lip, wringing his robes in his hands. She gave one shoulder a little squeeze, peeked out from behind the boulder, and cursed and slid back into place.
“So that was a bad idea."
"What was?" it was a stupid question and I knew it.
Floren. I hoped Amelia was right. I couldn't believe I'd left them behind, they were sick and weak and vulnerable and I'd left even though-
"Um, sorry, yes?" I whispered, realising Amelia was looking right at me.
"You're small," she repeated. "If I distract them, do you think you can slip away without being noticed?"
"I don't know. I don't know where the cave is..."
"Hills, Percy. A cave between two hills. It's very simple. Now go."
She broke from hiding, drawing her weapon.
“Alice! Stand down. I’m warning you, I won’t mess around.”
I didn't look. I just ran.
There were shouts (it sounded like three different people had come to confront us), but I didn't know if I'd been spotted or if these were directed at Amelia. I slid into the cover of some trees at the field’s edge, scurried down a small slope, and only then allowed myself to relax a little- although I didn't slow my pace. I had to find Elizabeth before Alice did. I had to make sure she was safe.
No gunshots. Surely that was a good sign?
Someone was breathing rather conspicuously right behind me.
I spun, stepping out of the way in time to avoid Riley's flailing as he stumbled past.
"Riley! What are you doing here?"
"Helping," he gasped, catching himself against a post. "She might have questions. Like you did."
"I'm sure I can deal with that."
He fell into step beside me, slowly getting his breathing under control. "You might be the actual werewolf, but I’ve studied the theory. I can help. I know more about vampires, but werewolves are not so different. They’re both connected with the night. They both used to be humans. Vampires remain one entity while werewolves are two, but both can have messy feelings about being turned against their will.”
“I understand the messy feelings,” I pointed out. “That’s why I need to do this. I understand her situation better than most.”
“Maybe that’s true,” he sighed. “I just feel like I would be more useful here. Nobody really takes me seriously in Streamfarm. They’ll act polite enough and thank me for being here, but it’s all superficial. Even though I’ve been trained in these matters, or...sort of, anyway. I still have a way to go. Anyway, I think it’s because I’m from Northpass. I’m not local. Were they...weird...towards you as well?”
“I mean I guess,” I conceded. “That doesn’t seem relevant right now, Riley.”
“You’re right. But I’m right too, and I’m staying to help. So a little cave, Ms Amelia said?”
“With water trickling out of it. Beneath a sort of rocky overhang.”
“Thank-you.”
He adjusted his Mars pin, smoothed down his hair and robes, tried to regain some semblance of his typically seamless presentation. I doubted the child would care how nice he looked, but I didn’t say this aloud. In truth, in spite of my protests, I was glad to have company. Some things you don’t want to do alone.
It was raining quite hard now. I hoped it didn’t get any worse. That would be dangerous for Elizabeth, especially if she was already cold and anxious. I glanced back every so often to see if anyone followed, but there were a few low hills between us and where we’d left Amelia, and we seemed to be in the clear. I hoped she was okay. Surely Alice wouldn’t hurt her- she had no real reason to. After all, Amelia had tried harder than almost anyone to prevent the wolves from hurting other villagers.
“It’s there,” Riley said softly, pointing. “That must be it.”
I squinted. “Where?”
“There.”
We crept closer. It occurred to me too late that this approach wouldn’t exactly seem friendly, if the girl was watching us as we came closer. Thankfully, she was not.
It also occurred to me that sending two total strangers to speak with her wasn’t the best idea either. I wished Amelia had been able to stay with us.
“Elizabeth?” I tried, hunkering down in front of the little cave. It was narrow, too small for an adult to enter. “Lizzie?”
I heard shuffling, and long dark hair parted as a pale face peered out at us.
“Who’re you?” she muttered. “How did you find me?”
“Allie helped us,” that was technically true. “Everyone’s worried about you. My name’s Percy, and this is Riley. We’re here to bring you home.”
She balled her hands into fists. “You’re a werewolf.”
“Elizabeth, please,” Riley knelt down beside me. “We can help. We know what happened and it’s not your fault.”
Tears welling in her eyes, Elizabeth pushed herself back against the wall.
“No. Go away.”
“We know what happened,” he repeated, keeping his voice low. “We can help you Miss Elizabeth, I promise. Mildred knows what to do. She’s helped a lot of others already. She’s very good.”
“Mikey died,” her voice cracked. “It was my fault.”
My heart caught in my throat. For a moment Riley and I were both at a loss for words. There was nothing you really could say to a statement like that. In the end, I went for simple reassurance. If she felt that nobody blamed her for what happened, then surely Elizabeth could be convinced to come home? Never mind that I wasn’t sure if her father did blame her, or how the rest of the village would react. One step at a time- first, I just needed to get her to Mildred.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I held out my hands. “Please. I know what you’re going through. I promise we can help.”
She wrung her hands. “I wish I could believe you.”
“You’re not well,” Riley added. “Mildred knows how to make you better. It’s not your fault, Elizabeth. Nobody’s blaming you. We just-”
“Look out!” she shrieked. I whirled around to see Alice, a long knife gripped tightly in her right hand, foot slamming down to pin Riley. Thanks to Elizabeth’s warning, the acolyte managed to roll out of the way. He scrambled to his feet as I put my body between Alice and the kid, still huddled inside her little nook.
“Think about what you’re doing,” I warned. “You don’t want to hurt her.”
“Of course I don’t,” she snapped, adjusting her grip on the weapon. “This is for you.”
My legs felt weak. I licked my chapped and bleeding lips. She had every right to be angry. She had every right to be afraid. But I chose my name for a reason, and I wasn’t going to back down now.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she still hadn’t moved.
“After you-,” I forced out the words. “-kill me. Will you take Elizabeth back? Will you let Mildred help her?”
“Of course.”
“But I deserve to die?”
“Because-” she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “Because you must have known something was wrong. She’s a child, she didn’t. The rest of you...you killed my mother and worse. Floren knew. They had to know, regardless of whether...memories persist, or they don’t, or whatever Amelia said. They were there. The whole time.”
**
Michael paced the room, head down, arms folded tightly across his chest. Floren followed with their gaze, Nicholas watching them both from the corner.
“I knew,” Michael said at length.
Floren blinked. “You did?”
“I never saw her after he died. But I saw it flee. Too small, you know. It had to be a child, and I didn’t see her after that, so-”
“You didn’t tell anyone?” Nicholas interrupted. “We would have helped.”
“She’s my daughter. I didn’t want this to get out. Didn’t want a mob after her, you understand.”
Floren bristled. “I suppose it’s different when it’s someone close to you.”
Nicholas frowned at them. Michael stopped pacing and glared.
“We were close, Floren. The difference is that you’re an adult. You had context, the mental capacity to process this. She’s young and alone. You know why we reacted the way we did. What would Elizabeth think if her friends and family locked her up?”
Floren straightened. “Oh, of course. How could I forget that things are so much easier when you’re an adult who understands the bloody implications? It’s not that I don’t feel for her- of course I do- but geez, Michael. Put yourself in our shoes. Because it’s super easy being tied up like a freakin’ dog, in the middle of a fairly significant identity crisis- you know me, you knew how I’d feel- and everyone turns cold.”
“What were we supposed to do?” Nicholas snapped. “Just let you lot run around killing people?”
For his part, Michael grunted and looked away.
“You know what?” Floren continued, voice now uncomfortably even. “Fine. We wanted to make sure you’re okay. I can leave. But Percy’s going to bring Elizabeth home and, when he does, you’d better show him a little gratitude. Especially after everything you’ve put him through.”
**
“If you hurt him, We will never forgive you,” Riley warned, serenity wavering just a little.
“I don’t need your forgiveness, little priest, or that of your stranger-god,” she hissed. “Go home.”
“No.”
“Riley, leave,” I insisted, keeping my eyes on Alice.
“No,” he growled. “Percy, say what you have to say. But I want her to know that my stranger-god will not ignore injustice in Their domain.”
“An awful lot of injustice has been ignored already,” Alice hissed, flicking that knife towards Riley.
“Percy’s short for Perseverance,” I blurted.
“Yes, I know,” Alice scoffed. “Don’t be pedantic.”
“I’m not,” I swallowed hard. “Calamity told me that that your name should be an anchor, to remind you who you are, and I think that’s true. But I think more importantly, it should remind you who you want to be. I want to persevere and help people. That’s all. That’s all I want to do, and I can’t even express how sorry I am for everything that-”
She advanced and I scuttled back, arms still flung out to shield Elizabeth. I heard her shuffle and whimper in that little nook. I forced myself to meet my aggressor’s gaze.
“What kind of person do you want to be, Alice?”
“One who stops all this,” she hissed. “My mother, little Mikey- I’m not letting anyone else die. You killed her. You and Floren and they just- they let you go.”
There was a time and place for arguing that no, actually, I didn’t. This was not that time or place. She lost her mother. Remember that.
“Do you remember when Floren gave you those pictures?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she’d stopped moving, and I was fairly confident in my chances of not bleeding out here in front of an already traumatised child.
“They held you,” I remembered. I’d been maybe, just a little, very slightly jealous and feeling bad about that. “They reassured you and let you cry on them.”
“So?” Alice looked like she might be crying now too, but I wasn’t quite confident enough in my chances of survival to let her near me.
“Would Floren do that if they’d hurt you on purpose?”
“It doesn’t matter!” she cried. “If they hadn’t been there, and you and Simon hadn’t been there, my mother would still be with us.”
“Simon’s dead, so you don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Riley said, more coldly than I’d thought he was even capable of.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t- how?”
“Emma shot him.”
“The apprentice baker?”
“Yes,” I cut in before the acolyte could make things worse. “Alice, I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to fix this. I don’t have all the answers. Please don’t do this. Speak to Mildred, talk with Amelia, try to understand that they’re doing everything in their power to stop this from happening again. Me and Floren, we won’t hurt anyone else, and Mildred will make sure Elizabeth doesn’t either. There will be no more casualties of these werewolves. Please think about why it is you really want to kill me, and if that’s enough.”
We stood there in silence, save for the heavy breathing of the child huddled behind me. I wanted so badly to look at her, to turn and comfort her, but I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off Alice long enough to tend the girl. I still wasn’t entirely certain where we stood. Thankfully Riley seemed to understand. Without a word he nudged his way past me and knelt down beside her, speaking in soft warm tones.
Alice brushed her free hand across her face, and nodded briskly. “Fine. Let’s take her to Mildred.”
“Thank-you,” I clasped my hands to hide the trembling. “Do you want to lead the way?”
“I’d prefer to follow behind.”
I really didn’t like that idea, but what choice did I have? Alice stalked after us, knife directed at my lower back all the way back into town. At least she let Riley take Elizabeth and sooth her best he could. He carried her on his back most of the way, her little hands scrunched into his robes, which was actually super adorable. Elizabeth was very quiet and grim, but I supposed there wasn’t much we could do about that. Some things would only heal with time.
“It’s okay,” Riley murmured nearby. “We’ll take you to Mildred and you’ll be better. You’ll be okay.”
**
Michael exhaled shakily. “That’s it then. Once they bring her back. She’s the last one?”
Floren nodded.
“I am thankful for everything he’s done.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, a tension in the air. Michael thought they were waiting for something, and was pretty sure he knew what that was, but uncertain if he could bring himself to say it. He took a deep breath and tried anyway:
“I know I wasn’t fair to you, Floren. I did what I felt was best for Streamfarm. With better knowledge of the situation I might have behaved differently. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Our mother used to say ‘forgive and forget’,” Nicholas chimed in.
The siblings shared a glance.
“I don’t know about forgetting,” Floren admitted after a pause, “but I can definitely try to forgive.”
They sighed, closed their eyes and inhaled deeply. The exhale was slow, measured. When they opened their eyes again, their focus was entirely on Michael.
“Some nights she’ll be human. Even then there might be nightmares, anxiety, other difficulties. It will be a lot. But you’re not alone. You know my family is always here for yours.”
They indicated Nicholas, already moving to join them in the middle of the room.
Tears welled up in Michael's eyes. “Heck, Floren. Nicholas, I-”
His voice dissolved. Floren stepped closer.
“You can hug me if you want.”
He nodded, biting down on his tongue, not trusting himself to speak. He clung to Floren and cried into their coat and they were there, they listened, and for the moment it was like nothing between them had changed.
EpilogueJust a short time ago I’d awoken with no memory and a stranger standing over me in the mud of an unknown land. So much had happened since that night. More than once I thought my mind would break, and I still worried I was losing it from time to time. In spite of all this, I’d made it through to the other side. In spite of all the awful things which happened, and which I often found myself going back to in the quiet moments, I was still here. More to the point, I had direction now. I had a purpose.
“I can’t fix your memory problem so easily,” Mildred had said matter-of-factly, as she stirred a cauldron of utterly tasteless soup. “One of the cities perhaps, with better medical knowledge. Maybe Northpass. Maybe further east.”
Standing outside her house, thinking back on our conversation, I found I was okay with that. I knew who I was now, and I knew what I needed to do from here. Maybe one day I’d regain my memories of life before Streamfarm. If I didn’t, I would never really know where I came from, but I was at peace with this. I knew who I was and where I was going, and that was enough.
They were standing close behind me, probably thinking I didn’t know they were there, but I’d gotten good at this. They wouldn’t sneak up on me so easily.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
“You need more layers,” Floren said. “At the very least a scarf. It’s cold, Percy.”
“You’ve got one for me, I assume?”
They didn’t respond, just wrapped a length of warm grey fabric around my neck. When they moved back, I took their hand and they didn’t resist.
“Please stay.”
“Of course.”
It wasn’t raining right now, but there was a post-rainfall thickness to the air which I found quite pleasant. I wondered if we would see any sun before I left. The fields and flowers must look lovely in the sunshine. It would be nice to leave this place on one final bright note.
“Yes,” Floren added after a moment. “I am feeling better, thank-you. You’ve been very good to me. To all of us. Probably better than we deserved.”
“If just being nice was worthy of praise, praise would be overused and meaningless,” I said. That actually sounded pretty good, but I couldn’t leave it there. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to say something.”
“Whatever it is, you can say it,” they said, and glanced aside. They seemed almost shy.
“We’ve only known each other a short time but, if you need to talk, remember that I’m here for you. The things that happened...I get that you can’t come with me. You have friends and family here, and they need you more than we do. But if you want to before I leave- if it would help you come to terms with things- I’ll be here and I’ll listen.”
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” they conceded, “and turns out I’m not so sure about staying. I need to be here for Simon and Emma’s funeral, but after that I just don’t know. I think my place is elsewhere, at least for now. I don’t think I’ll be very useful if I stay here.”
They looked at me. I nodded.
“We’d be lucky to have you,” I said, giving their hand a little squeeze. “But what about your brother? Your niece?”
“It’s going to take Nico some time,” they confessed. “When I speak to him, it’s like he doesn’t really see me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. But I know I can’t expect him to forgive me when I haven’t forgiven myself, and I think using what we’ve learned to help others is the first step.”
“I think so too,” I agreed. “And there are still so many people we can help. Michael gave me a report from Farthington, and Riley said that her friend was recently dispatched to deal with similar problems further south. I don’t know why there are so many werewolves all of a sudden, but we’re in the perfect position to assist.”
I leaned my head against their shoulder and Floren gently stroked my hair. In a day or two I would leave for Farthington, and face more heartbreak and uncertainty and mistrust, but I wouldn’t face it alone. Now there were four of us. Four people to share that weight.
“Naturally, I already agreed,” Calamity said, startling us both. “There’s nothing left for me here. Streamfarm is gravely wounded and we’re only picking at the scabs by sticking around.”
Their eyes were dark with fatigue. They looked like they hadn’t slept in days, which was most likely the case. Calamity was wounded too. The things the villagers had done to each other and to their brother had taken its toll. It was as if it brought something else back as well: they spoke in their sleep of the ocean and formless eyes and shattered timbers. One day I would ask them about that, but not today. Now was the time for something more optimistic.
I held out my other hand. “Join us, Cal.”
“I don’t do cutesy.”
They grinned insincerely but took my hand anyway. The three of us stood together outside Mildred’s little home and let the morning sun wash over us.
