Chapter 24: Book II: Chapter 4: Miscommunication, Mercy, and Misery

Chapter Four: Miscommunication, Mercy, and Misery

“Curse!? You call Lycanthropy a curse? Bah! How pathetic you southern folk must be to call it such? The Beastblood is the ultimate crucible! In mastering it, our Jarls and Warriors prove themselves mighty in body and mind. Taming the power and using it to conquer and command their lessers. It is not a Curse, but a blessing meant to weed out the chaff. Leaving only those worthy to rule!” - Thane Bulveye Bitten-Shield. Sworn-Brother to Jarl Olaf Grim-Eye.

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Paladin, Vampire, and Familiar pushed hard, following the Grinner trail in tense silence. The Ghouls had cut across fields and ditches, heading in a nearly straight line toward the next cluster of souls their magical animus could detect. As they moved, Cole became more confident in his estimate of the herd’s size. Forty or so Grinners made up the herd. The original Farmstead bolstered by the Mill’s people. A dangerous amount but not insurmountable for Cole, especially with Natalie’s aid.

Glancing at the spectral sheepdog loping before them, Cole grimaced. He’d fought alongside Undead before, and all things considered, Natalie’s Familiar was “palatable” by the standards of dark magic. But the whole situation still disquieted him. Too many unknowns and too many distractions in the form of Natalie’s secrets.

Squeezing his axe so hard his knuckles creaked, Cole refocused. Catching Natalies attention, he spoke. “I will draw the Grinner's attention. They won’t be interested in you or the Familiar unless you attack them. Get any civilians clear first, then use the Dog to protect my back. Any questions?”

Natalie shook her head no and turned her attention back to the trail. She was dreading what Cole might say or do later. It would not be a pleasant discussion. She’d had enough arguments and breakups to tell that much. And she was going to make things worse by telling him about Isabelle. But she owed him that much, the opportunity to speak with Isabelle. Wincing at her own brooding thoughts, Natalie looked down at her new familiar.

Grist moved and acted like any herding Dog she’d known. Something that blurred the line between endearing and disturbing. With every movement, Grist's flesh and bones faded in and out of existence. Never all at once, never at the same time, and never with any sort of pattern. The effect reminded Natalie of an anatomy text she’d once seen in the Temple. Different layers of flesh and bone exposed in a rippling transition.

Animating Grist also taxed her blood reserve, but not by much. She could probably use him for hours without any real downside. Isabelle had said creating or repairing the spectral body would be more draining, something Natalie knew she’d probably confirm in the coming fight. She’d also let Biter fade back to a skull and deposited him in her pack. Grist was enough of a drain on her resources. Not just her blood supply, but having the Familiar active was mentally draining. His senses and mind were an ever-present weight in the back of her skull. While the Hollow did most of the work in puppeteering the Bone-Bound Familiar, it still relied on Natalie to make decisions. While she’d practiced for hours of dream time, Natalie still felt like she was controlling an additional ungainly limb in the form of Grist.

It had been late when they reached the Millstead. Now, after nearly an hour of pushing through snowy fields, the Sun had finally set. Natalie barely noticed. The sudden strength to her body and the lack of light did not even register. Cole, by contrast, cursed and took a moment to wrap a section of grease cloth around his axe’s head. Igniting the makeshift torch, he barely slowed down as long shadows bled into darkness. Just to make visibility worse, the trail led into a copse of trees edging the farm fields. Soon the torchlight was broken by myriad trunks, and any moonlight was stolen away by the needled canopy.

The wind had blown drifts of snow around the outermost trees, and the Ghoul’s trail looked like the breach in some great earthworks. The single-minded Undead had shoved through the glacial heap without care. Grinners were smart by Ghoul standards, but that says little. They pushed toward their next victims with little care for any obstacles. A double-edged trait if there ever was one. Cole had destroyed hundreds of ghouls by leading them off cliffs or into spiked pits. Using their own persistence against them.

As they entered the forest proper, Natalie finally spoke. “What exactly is a Grinner? Where do they come from?”

For a single bitter moment, Cole was almost tempted to ignore her, but he quickly dismissed the idea as petty and ridiculous. “Grinners arise in places with an extremely tainted Aether. The corruption animates Ghouls faster and more effectively than normal. They Rise up in hours instead of days and are much more dexterous. Normal Ghouls have all the strength of the living person but generally stumble about, barely able to shuffle, let alone run. Grinners can run, jump, climb and even use crude tools sometimes.”

Cole looked around the forest, sniffing the air for any signs of rot. “A battle must have happened in these parts. Perhaps in the last decade or two? That should be enough to produce Grinners, but I can’t say for certain. The exact requirements are murky. Magic is more about intent and connections than any concrete mathematics or logic.”

Grist the Familiar made a low warning bark. It sounded muffled like it was coming through thick fog or from a great distance. Natalie answered Cole’s unspoken question. “He smells something. His nose is better than mine, it seems.”

Pausing to digest the information related to her through the mental link. Natalie recognized the smells. “Rotten bodies, fresh blood, and…Wet Dog?”

Cole and Natalie exchanged a puzzled look and pressed onwards. It didn’t take long for the smells to reach Cole as well. He could only smell the rot but trusted the Familiar’s nose that other smells were buried beneath. Soon the faint flicker of firelight in the distance became visible. Pinpricks of orange contrasting with the grays and blacks of the winter forest. No sooner had Cole seen the fire was the night ripped apart by screams.

Cursing under his breath, Cole pushed himself forward. Legs pumping furiously as he dashed towards the screams. Extending his axe into a Halberd, Cole tightened the straps securing his spark stone and smeared it with blood. Feeling the smooth warmth of the stone in his right hand, Cole felt confident. He never would have guessed how useful the little trinket would become.

Holding the stone high, Cole spat a gout of flame into the air. A large and flashy display of fire meant to attract attention. He doubted it would have any effect, but if it distracted a single Grinner or brought hope to any of their victims, it would be worth it. Grist kept up with Cole, the tireless canine bounding along the trail, matching the Homunculus’s pace. Natalie was not far behind, slowed by her inexperience in navigating difficult terrain. Despite living in the Dragon Tail Mountains, she’d been a village girl, rarely venturing into the wilds beyond the town walls.

The distant fire grew brighter and brighter, casting dancing shadows upon nearby trees. Scared cries and hungry moans filled the darkness as Cole came close enough to see what transpired. Six large wagons formed a circle in the middle of a forest clearing. Light from a Campfire within the circle flickered as shapes passed before it. Nearly forty Grinners surrounded the make-shift fort, pushing into the gaps between the Wagons or trying to crawl underneath them. One of the wagons rocked as a group of Grinners shoved against it, trying to push a path into whatever prize lay within the circle. Babbling screams warred with undead moans and panicked shouts to fill the night.

Charging the nearest cluster of Ghouls, Cole roared. “MAGNI MORTAE MUNDUS!” Maybe a dozen smiling faces turned to his approach. The taught muscles of the Ghouls splitting their mouths in twisted grins. Seeing Cole as easier prey, the Grinners stopped pushing on the wagon and launched themselves at him. After the messiness of earlier, Cole couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of his new task.

A smile he quickly forced from his face as he smashed into the first Ghoul. He was a Paladin now with a sacred task. Destroying these cursed bodies was not something to take pleasure in. Chiding himself for his momentary slip, let his weight and momentum knock a Grinner into one of its fellows. Sending both stumbling in a tangle of twitching limbs. Swinging his Halberd, Cole smashed its killing edge into the two Grinners. He didn’t try for a clean decapitation, just trying to cripple the Undead. He succeeded as the Halberd’s axe-head tore through both Ghoul’s bodies and sent their bisected pieces flying in a tumble of gore.

Spinning with his weapons momentum, Cole reached out with his free right hand and gripped onto the biting head of a lunging Ghoul. Flames erupted from Cole’s palm as his newly superhuman grip crushed bone. Sending a burning, ruined corpse toppling to the ground. Cole kept up the spin, whirling about like a Sun-Dancer of the Central Continent. His body in a constant flow of violence and destruction. Everywhere his halberd swung, a Grinner fell. Ripped apart like so much rotten meat below a butcher's knife.

One smarter Grinner lunged low as Cole turned away from it. The undead’s jaws snapped as it went for Cole’s unguarded spine. Grist barreled into the Ghoul, the Dog-spirit’s jaws sinking into Grinner's leg and knocking the undead over. Phantasmal claws and bone jaws tore at the Ghoul. Ripping into the thrashing Ghoul like a Wolf might an injured sheep. As he spun to face the noise, Cole saw his unusual ally and looked back to where he’d last seen Natalie.

After commanding Grist to help, Natalie prepared to do as Cole asked. She would find the survivors and aid them the best she could. To do this, she'd trotted a few meters away from the Wagons and now ran towards them at full speed. Stolen blood surged through her legs, and she pushed off the ground with every bounding step. Moving faster than she ever had, Natalie jumped. Vampiric strength propelled her into the air, and she let out a startled yelp. Soaring a good five meters in the air, Natalie flailed her legs helplessly as she tumbled through the air.

A stunned Cole watched as Natalie flew overhead. Long pale legs pointlessly spinning, as windmilled her limbs and shouted an impressive stream of curses. A snapping Ghoul forced Cole to refocus on the fight and ignore Natalie’s flight. Still, part of him had to acknowledge her legs had looked fantastic. Shaking his head at that…hot-blooded thought, Cole returned to his grisly work.

To Natalie’s utter surprise, she’d aimed her jump well. In planning this escapade, she’d half-expected to land among the Ghouls or overshoot the wagons entirely. Instead, Natalie was set to land right on top of the nearest wagon. Which led to a new problem: she’d not planned how to land.

“JAG! JAG! JAG! JAG! JAG!” she shouted as she slammed into the Wagon top. Instead of smashing through the Wagon’s roof like she feared, Natalie hit and skidded down its sloped surface. The icy wood and her own momentum sent Natalie tumbling off the Wagon in a mess of fabric. Slamming into the frozen ground below. Natalie let out a pained groan. “Goatshit! That hurts!”

Feeling her skinned arms and bruised torso starting to heal, Natalie looked up to see what awaited her. A trio of spear tips were pointed at her, each held by three different men who looked the exact same. For a moment, Natalie wondered if Vampires could suffer concussions before she realized the men were triplets. Each a brawny, hairy fellow with thick brows and brutish features. Unsure of what to do, Natalie smiled up at them and said. “Hi, I’m Natalie”

She realized her mistake the moment she opened her mouth. The triplets saw her fangs and pressed their spears closer to her. Trying to recover from the situation, Natalie raised up conciliatory hands. “Wait, wait, wait! My friend and I have come to help. He’s fighting the Ghouls outside, and he sent me to make sure you were all safe.”

That had no effect, and the triplets maintained their stoic threat of violence. The clink of bangles and beads came to Natalie, and she looked over to see an elderly woman standing between the Triplets. Hunched over with age, the woman had light-brown skin and the same thick brow as the Triplets. A colorful and heavy dress covered her small body, and myriad metal loops adorned her wrists. While her hair was held up in a tight bun with a few loose strands holding dozens of beads each.

In a warm thick voice colored by an alien accent, the woman addressed Natalie. “While my pack, thank you for your concern. We have no need of your help Vampire.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow and pulled herself to her knees, not moving fast enough to worry the Triplets. “Not to be rude, but you have a host of Grinning Ghouls literally battering at your defenses. If I were in your position, I’d be happy for any help. “

The old woman made a chuffing noise and looked at the Triplets. “Boys, you will be more use manning the barricades. I can handle this one.”

They looked like they might argue with her, all three exchanging worried looks. The old woman gave the closest a gentle swat. “GO! I’m not so decrepit as to fear a newborn Vampire.”

The triplets left, joining the maybe half a dozen other men and women defending the gaps in the Wagon wall. Leaving the two women alone. Natalie took an opportunity to glance around what was apparently a campsite. A raging bonfire sat in the center with maybe a dozen figures clustered around it. Children and elderly, those unable to fight by the look of it. A long boney finger shot out from the Old Woman’s robes and caught underneath Natalie’s chin.

“Eyes here, Vampire.” the elder murmured. Natalie looked at the Old Woman and saw her eyes were a rich amber color, with large pupils. They reminded Natalie of something, but she didn’t know what. Natalie tried to pull back and suddenly felt a sharp edge cutting into her chin. Gasping, Natalie flicked her eyes down to see the woman’s hand had changed. It had grown in size, the fingers stretching into long muscled claws covered in thick brown fur. Natalie could only stare in utter shock.

The Old woman had an amused smile on her face upon seeing Natalie’s surprise. “You see, little Vampire. You aren’t the only one cursed. And unlike you, some of us learn to turn our curse into a blessing.”

An echoing howl cut through the night. Drowning out the clash of metal and groans of ghouls. Natalie became very still, her eyes widening in utter terror. She knew that howl; she could never forget it. While the one she’d heard was coarse and wet with decay, this one was clean and unbroken. But it was still unmistakably the cry of a Werewolf. Seeing her fright, the old Werefolk woman chuckled. “We are in no need of your help. We needed only wait until the rest of the pack returned.”

Cole turned to the howl and gripped his halberd tight. From out of the shadows, a pair of lupine juggernauts exploded. Each easily two meters in height while hunched over, they were monstrous hybrids of wolf and man. Gleaming eyes wild with bloodlust set above snarling maws, attached to muscle-bound bodies covered in thick dark fur. Standing upright, they lunged for the Ghouls with colossal paws. Gnashing teeth and tearing claws fell upon the remaining undead. Shredding them apart with an unbridled ferocity, even Cole’s darkest moments couldn’t match. Shrugging his shoulders in resignation, Cole joined the Werewolves in finishing the Grinner herd.

It didn’t take long for the final Grinner to be dispatched. Falling to Cole’s halberd in a crunch of bones and slurp of ripping flesh. Leaving the Paladin alone with two vicious-looking monsters. Never letting his eyes dip away from them, Cole kept his halberd raised and spoke clearly. “I am a Rest-Bringer of Master Time. I came to destroy these ghouls and protect any who they might harm.”

The Werewolves glanced at each other, and the smaller of the two spoke. It was a deep feral rumble coming from a mouth not meant for anything as complicated as language. “I smell Vampire… The hunt not finished… Join us or flee from us….”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Cole leveled his weapon at the Werewolf. “The Vampire is in my custody. She is no threat to your pack. I-”

A number of worried shouts and the sound of clashing metal erupted from the Wagon Camp. Shutting his eyes in tired resignation, Cole cursed. “Fixed Stars and Fractured Souls. What am I going to do with you, Natalie?”

Natalie’s paralyzing fear at the Werewolves' arrival faded. Replaced by the mildly more productive terror of a trapped animal. All thoughts but the desire to escape fled Natalie. Her human mind and Vampire instincts in utter agreement on that front. Shakily, she said. “Let me go! I mean you no harm. We just came here to help.”

The old woman narrowed her strange lupine eyes. “I find that very hard to believe. No, I think you and whatever brood of Vampires you belong to are looking for a quick meal. Sending those ghouls after us the moment our Fullbloods left. While offering parly through a newly turned welp they don’t mind sacrificing. But your elders weren’t fast enough. My daughter and nephews have returned to us, and now you will die.”

Natalie’s mouth opened, and she tried to think of what to say. Unfortunately, she had to agree with the Werefolk Matriarch. From her perspective, this looked incredibly suspicious, and if they had traded places, Natalie wouldn’t believe a thing out of her own mouth. Shrugging her shoulders, she made her decision. “Screw it. BITERBITERBITER!”

The Squirrel's skull burst from her cloak’s internal pocket and flew at the Matriarch. Biter materialized in a spray of mist and phantom fur. Latching onto the Werefolk woman’s face and giving Natalie time to push herself backward. Narrowly dodging the scything claw of the Matriarch aimed at her throat. Slamming backward against the Wagon, Natalie turned and started desperately scrabbling up its side. A speartip slammed into the wood panels next to her as one of the Werefolk guards tried to stop her. Swearing vigorously, Natalie made it to the top just in time for her to feel her connection to Biter break.

It was an ugly snapping sensation that made her wince in pain. Glancing down, Natalie saw the furious-looking matriarch dropping the crushed remains of the squirrel skull to the ground. Unsheathing her shortsword, Natalie turned away from the Werefolk and tried to find Cole. It wasn’t hard; the Paladin was busy fighting two Werewolves at the same time.

The sight made Natalie freeze up. Twin behemoths of fur and muscle clashed with Cole in a vicious fight. Images of her mother’s death flared through Natalie’s mind. Of the Varcolac and its terrible jaws closing on Iona’s body. Shaking her head, Natalie glanced around, looking for something to do. White-hot pain suddenly erupted in her back, and she stumbled forward. Stunned, Natalie reached to her back and found a crossbow bolt sticking from her. Giving the Werefolk another glance and seeing two women armed with Crossbows aiming their shots. Natalie decided to take her chances outside the circle.

Leaping down from the wagon, Natalie called Grist to her. The spectral sheepdog bounded over to her from where it had been standing. With a quick mental command, she sent the Familiar after one of the Werewolves. Skeletal fangs sunk into the monster's calf and gave Cole an opening. To Natalie’s surprise and slight disappointment, the Paladin didn’t go for the kill but instead rammed the spike of his halberd through the Werewolf's other knee. Sending the creature to the ground.

Cole grimaced at the pained howls erupting from the Werewolf. He didn’t want to kill the Lycanthrope and saw no other way to end this fight other than crippling both his foes. A gut feeling told Cole this all came from a misunderstanding. Something that might be rectified if he could de-escalate the situation. A difficult prospect considering he had two prey-driven Werewolves trying to rip him apart.

He could only spare a glance for Natalie and find some solace she’d escaped whatever mess was to be found inside the wagon camp. Her aid in the form of Grist was appreciated but not strictly needed. Cole was stronger than he’d ever been, and even when limiting himself to just fire and steel, he could hold his own with the Werewolves. A disconcerting sensation for the Paladin. He was not used to being a physical equal to his foes.

Natalie watched the fight and stalked closer, pressing down her raging terror. The sights, sounds, and smells of the Werewolves were a constant bombardment on her all-too-sensitive senses. While they didn’t stink of rot like the Varcolac, the Werewolves still filled the air with a pungent mix of musk and wet dog. A memory-summoning mixture that made Natalie incredibly thankful she didn’t need to breathe anymore.

Glancing between the circling monsters and Cole’s flashing Halberd. Natalie racked her brains for something to do. She wanted to help Cole, but she had no clue how. Holding up her short sword with deathly still hands, Natalie noticed something odd about the fight. Neither side seemed to be pushing to finish the fight. Cole was showing mercy every chance he could, and the Werewolves fought incredibly conservatively. Seemingly content to snap at Cole and pressure him but never striking with true malice. While she understood Cole’s mercy, the Werewolves’ actions made little sense. Maybe Cole wasn’t the only one seeking an ending to this other than bloodshed?

As she crept closer, ordering Grist to keep harrying the Wolves, a stray thought entered Natalie's mind. Of what the Matriarch had said. ‘My daughter and nephews have returned to us and now you will die.’ Nephews, as in plural. The flickering fire of the camp was suddenly blocked out by a massive shadow. Natalie swore and spun around just in time for two hundred kilos of Werewolf to smash into her. The third Werewolf had arrived.

Sharp fangs sunk into Natalie’s side, and she let out a pained scream as bones cracked and flesh tore. Frantically Natalie flailed out with her shortsword. Its silver tip opened a red line along the attacking monster’s flank. Werewolf and Vampire tumbled to the ground, fangs gnashing dead flesh, while an inherited blade tore open lupine skin.

Cole heard Natalie’s scream and answered it with a shout of his own. “LEAVE HER ALONE!” Cole charged the Werewolf on top of Natalie. Roaring in fury, Cole slammed his halberd into the beast's exposed flank. Putting the full force of his body behind the blow, he knocked the Werewolf clear of Natalie. The bleeding Werewolf skidded along the ground, the Halberd’s tip jammed into its torso. A furious Cole let go of his halberd and leaped onto the Werewolf, straddling its chest like a grappler.

With a feral intensity that surprised even him, Cole punched the Werewolf in the face. Shattering some of its teeth and shredding his knuckles in the process. With his spark-stone in the opposite hand, Cole shot a gout of flame into the Werewolf's face, driving a howling scream from the beast's throat. Improvising, Cole spat out an incantation, focusing his will on a spell. “A red blade for a beast who strayed!”

Crude spikes of blood grew from Cole’s torn knuckles, and Cole slammed his fist into the Werewolf’s throat. Upon impact, Cole screamed in pain, and his foe let out a wet gurgle. The untested spell proved double-edged in the most literal sense. Hardened blood tore at the Werewolf’s throat and lodged itself deep into Cole’s knuckle bones. Getting up from the maimed Werewolf, Cole looked for his foolishly discarded halberd.

The two remaining Werewolves descended on him in a flurry of fangs and claws. Cole was carried to the ground as the smaller Werewolf pounced on him. Its claws sank into his sides, and its fangs savaged his shoulder. The other larger Werewolf went low, its jaws wrapping around Cole’s lower leg, shattering the bone like dry kindling. Screaming in pain, Cole let a torrent of flame spray over the smaller Werewolf. The stink of burned hair drowned out anything else and the Wolf let go of Cole, yipping in pain as its pelt smoldered like a quilt left too close to a fire.

Free of one threat, Cole turned his attention to the other beast destroying his leg. With his free leg, Cole aimed a vicious kick at the Werewolf's nose. Thick leather boots driven by superhuman strength smashing into the sensitive skin. Blood sprayed from the Werewolf’s snout, and it let go of Cole, stumbling back to paw at its nose. Dragging himself away from the Werewolf, Cole tried to ignore the plethora of pains. But the mauling he’d received overwhelmed even his well-practiced pain tolerance.

Strong but soft hands grabbed Cole underneath the armpits and started dragging him away. Cole looked up to see a frantic Natalie pulling him over the snowy ground. Hoping to flee into the forest and escape this disaster. With a shaky hand, Cole reached up to Natalie.

“Leave me. I’ll distract them long enough for you to escape. It’ll be okay.” he rasped, his voice shaky with blood loss and shock.

Natalie had to resist the urge to smack Cole on the head. “I’m not jagging leaving you! We promised each other we’d stick together, right? Well, I’m not letting either of us break that agreement!”

A trio of deep growls she could feel in her chest stripped the bravado from Natalie. Looking up, she saw three furious Werewolves stalking toward them. All three were badly injured. Covered in cuts, burns, and dribbling blood from their maws. But they were each in better condition than Cole and far tougher than Natalie. Still dragging Cole, Natalie commanded Grist to attack the weakest-looking Werewolf, the one Cole had pummeled. The Familiar came at the Werewolf from the side, and without even looking, the monster caught the spectral dog with one hand and tossed Grist into the forest with incredible force. With a squealing bark, Grist flew through the air. The new damage and distance to Grist started to rapidly tax Natalie’s blood reserves. Forcing Natalie to deanimate her one weapon.

“Jaaaaaag,” she swore as the Werewolves parted to make way for the Matriarch.

The old woman glanced at her wounded family members and glared at Natalie. “Run along, little Vampire. Leave your slave to die, but know this isn’t over. My pack has your scent.”

Natalie let go of Cole, gently setting him down on the snow. Seeing the self-satisfied smirk on the Matriarch’s face, Natalie barred her fangs and hissed. A feral gesture that came unbidden. Ignoring her more craven Vampire instincts, Natalie unsheathed her short sword and stood between her injured partner and the Werewolves.

“You crazy old bitch! We tried to help you!” snarled Natalie. Glancing back at the bleeding Cole, her anger faded to worry. While Cole might resurrect, Natalie felt distinctly uncomfortable trusting that contingency. It only needed to fail once… Besides, Natalie didn’t know what the Werewolves might do to Cole. She saw how much-buried pain came from his immortality and didn’t want to know what being eaten alive would do to Cole’s mind.

So instead of doing the smart thing of running. Natalie stared down a pack of Werefolk and prayed to all Ten Gods for a miracle. The matriarch was silent for a long moment, just looking at Natalie. Dawning comprehension seemed to pass over the old woman as she drank in Natalie’s last stand.

“You…you are in love with him?” she asked incredulously. Clearly stunned that a Vampire was even capable of such emotions.

Bitterly, Natalie spat, “Yes! But not that it's any of your business.”

A clammy hand gripped Natalie’s ankle, and she spun to see Cole. He’d dragged himself to her and was holding something up to her with his other hand. Seeing what he held, Natalie’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the amulet from Cole. Turning back to the now much closer Werefolk. Natalie chided herself for turning away from a pack of predators and hoped at least One of the Ten Gods was listening.

Holding up the amulet, Natalie ignored the numb cold spreading to her fingers from the sacred symbol. She really, really hoped she wouldn’t drop it. “My companion is Cole Rest-Bringer, Paladin of Master Time! I spoke the truth. We were hunting the Ghouls and had no knowledge you were here. Please! Let us go free and end this madness!”

Seeing the amulet, the Werewolves hesitated and looked at each other. The Matriarch squinted her eyes and came forward. The largest of the Wolves put out a massive clawed paw to stop the Matriarch. She swatted it away and approached Natalie. Looking at the amulet and down at the wounded Cole, the Matriarch asked. “Tell me, why is a Paladin traveling with a Vampire?”

Gritting her teeth, Natalie glanced at the Wolves. “He is helping me, protecting me and others from my nature. Again, not that any of this is your business.”

Touching the amulet Natalie held out, the Matriarch chuckled. “True, but your words might just convince me to spare you. Surely that has some merit, Little Leech?”

The Matriarch gripped the amulet and tried to pull it from Natalie’s fingers. Letting out a furious hiss, Natalie yanked the amulet away. Leaving the elder Werefolk standing just a step away with an amused expression.

“I see holding it hurts you,” the Matriarch remarked. “Yet you won’t surrender it. Why?”

Glancing at the amulet and ignoring the fact she couldn’t feel her hand anymore, Natalie said. “It's important to him. That’s reason enough.”

Musing on those words, the Matriarch stepped back and gestured at the Werewolves. “Jaks, Jokin, grab one of our spare cots. Oh, and Ametza, be a dear and find my medicines.”

The smallest Werewolf looked questioningly at the Matriarch but seemed to decide better to question the Pack leader. The trio of Werewolves loped back towards the wagons and left Natalie and the old woman alone. The Matriarch spat onto her palm and held out a hand to Natalie. “I am Madam Kistine Shohgard, First Mother of the Shohgard Pack.”

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Natalie looked at the spit-stained hand and realized this was some strange form of greeting. “You can’t be serious? After all that, you want to shake hands and pretend nothing happened. You almost killed me, and your pack savaged Cole!”

Kistine rolled her eyes. “Would you prefer I let my family finish their hunt? Or would you like to stop wasting time and let me see to your mate?”

Natalie spat onto her hand or at least tried to. Her body produced just enough moisture for her throat and mouth to work but wouldn’t waste any energy on anything more complicated. Still, Natalie figured the gesture was more important than the actual saliva and shook the Matriarch’s hand.

Nodding her head at Natalie, Kistine broke the handshake and shuffled over towards Cole. Natalie was tense and ready to spring into action but sensed no malice from the old woman. Clicking her tongue, Kistine bent over Cole, her legs clearly straining from the effort. “I’m sorry Little Leech. The damage is bad, I will do the best I can, but I’ll make no promises.”

Natalie was uncertain of what to say. She didn’t want to reveal what Cole could do to this stranger but wasn’t about to pass up getting Cole's help. Eventually, Natalie said. “Help him. He’s stronger than you’d think.”

Eyeing Natalie, the Matriarch nodded and looked up to her returning relatives. Two men in their late twenties, brothers by the looks of it, carried a simple cot and tent between them. They wore loose baggy clothing over lanky muscled bodies. Trotting behind them was a short woman barely out of her teens in similar clothing carrying a child-sized crate with ease.

The trio never seemed to take their eyes off Natalie but said nothing. Eyes that disturbingly hadn’t changed at all between their Lupine forms in their humanoid ones. Setting the cot down, the brothers lifted Cole onto it. Carefully following their Aunt Kistine’s directions to not further injure the Paladin. The girl, Ametza, Natalie guessed. Set the crate next to her mother and hovered nearby, her eyes flitting between Kistine and Natalie. This close, Natalie could see the scores of scrapes, cuts, and bruises covering the three Werewolves. They’d healed quickly but still sported evidence of the fight. Ametza, in particular, looked to be in bad shape. A red stain was spreading along her clothes, and Natalie could smell the fresh blood. The silver-tipped short sword had done grisly work. Something Natalie tried not to feel too proud about.

With Cole secure, the brothers started setting up a tent around him while Kistine got to work. She opened up the crate, revealing its lid to be a complicated bit of woodwork. Unfolding into a simple but effective surgical station. Natalie took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. The intricate grooves for instruments and the built-in porcelain wash basin. Simple but elegant pictograms of medicinal plants framed the surgery cart. From its inside, Kistine pulled out bandages, a bottle of something so pungent Natalie could smell it through the cork, and a bundle of instruments.

Jaks continued setting up the tent while Jokin brought over a pail of freshly boiled water. With Ametza’s help, Kistine got Cole’s clothes off. Stripping him down and revealing the full extent of the damage. Kistine’s eyes widened when she saw the scars covering Cole. She looked at Natalie and the collar of feeding scars around Cole’s neck. Natalie hurriedly shook her head and explained. “Those aren’t from me.”

Unconvinced but unwilling to press the issue, Kistine got to work. Using the harsh-smelling chemical, she cleaned Cole’s wounds and started sewing them shut. Natalie only spared glances at the whole operation. The sight of Cole’s nude form, his gruesome injuries, and the smell of blood was playing havoc with her mind. Sending all sorts of mixed signals, she didn’t want to even start to decipher.

So she leaned against a nearby tree, watching the operation from a distance. Kistine would occasionally sprinkle handfuls of odd powder onto Cole’s wounds or pause in her work to whisper words in a cracking raspy language. By now, a tarpaulin was strung from the nearby trees, forming a crude tent around Cole and the others. The light of the campfire was completely obscured, and Natalie just then realized how dark it was inside the tent. Even her senses were trammeled by the night. About to say something, Natalie stepped closer to Kistine. Only then, realizing the woman’s eyes were shut.

Kistine looked almost asleep. Her mouth whispered a constant string of foreign words while her hands danced in a never-ending waltz between the surgical station and Cole’s body. In the dark, Natalie could see faint wisps of something floating around Kistine’s hands. Flickers of light like you might see after hitting your head. Drifting about the old woman’s digits in uncertain patterns. A strange pressure was building in Natalie like something was pressing on her entire body. Glancing around, she noticed the Werewolf brothers had hung strange fetishes at the Tent’s corner, and now, with the campfire illuminating the tarpaulin, she could see strange sigils inscribed on the fabric.

This was more than crude surgery. Magic was at work here, but not any Natalie recognized. Upon that realization, a fickle gut reaction told Natalie to interrupt what was happening, but she shoved it down. Her acute senses told her the flow of blood had almost completely stopped from Cole’s injuries. Whatever Kistine was doing, it was working.

The night burned on, with the Wolf brothers bringing new buckets of water and Ametza occasionally taking over to give Kistine a break. Eventually, with an exhausted sigh, Kistine stepped away from Cole and dunked her hands in the soapy basin Jaks had just filled. The woman looked like she’d aged another decade, the exhaustion wearing on her. Opened her eyes and blearily blinking at Natalie as she spoke.

“The Spirits doubt he will live through the night. I stopped the internal bleeding and stitched his most grievous wounds, but it's not enough. Your partner has lost much blood, and I fear infection will take hold. My Tutelaries did what they could, but strange magic covers him. The Spirits shy away from him, and coaxing even the tamest of them to help was difficult. I’ve never seen anything of the like. I guess you weren’t lying about him being a Paladin.”

In the darkness, Natalie could see flickers of regret cross the old woman’s face. Her pack had attacked and possibly killed a Holy Warrior. An act the Gods would not look favorably on. Seeing that fear, Natalie was tempted to tell them the truth about Cole but knew it wasn’t her secret to tell. But whatever Shaman-magic Kistine had worked sensed Cole’s strangeness, and the Matriarch had assumed it was due to him being a Paladin. Natalie wasn’t going to dissuade Kistine of that notion, and it could still give Natalie a reasonable explanation.

“He is blessed by Master Time. Death and he are old friends. He will live; just give him time to heal.”

Kistine gave Natalie a small, sad smile. Clearly, thinking Natalie was in denial. ‘Oh, if she only knew.’ the Vampire mused. Kistine looked at the unconscious Cole and grimaced. “I am sorry for this, Little Leach. Such senseless blood-shed is too common in these lands. I’m ashamed my family has contributed.”

Frowning at Kistine, Natalie spat. “My name is Natalie, not ‘Little Leech.’ You jumped to an ugly conclusion, and the only reason you didn’t pay for it is Cole’s mercy. I watched the fight with your nephews, and I’ve seen Cole fight greater monsters. He only suffered these injuries because of your family's bloodlust and my foolishness.”

The Werewolves flanking Kistine bristled at Natalie’s words. Not taking kindly to Natalie’s razor-words. Letting some of her anger boil up, Natalie hissed at the brothers. “You have all your limbs and aren’t frozen solid. Count yourself lucky!”

Cowed by the righteous fury on Natalie’s face, the Wolves looked at each other and backed down. Taking a deep breath, both calming and pointless. Natalie looked at Kistine. “I thank you for your aid… It has been a troubling past few days; let us try and move forward from this mess.”

Nodding in agreement, Kistine dismissed her relatives back to the main camp. “We will provide whatever food or medicine we can for the Paladin, but we won’t be as accommodating to you. Is that a problem?”

Rolling her eyes, Natalie bitterly remarked. “I have no intention or desire to feed on your pack. If need be, I can hunt these woods for game.”

That seemed to remove some tension from the Shaman. Raising a spindly finger, she pointed at Natalie’s short sword. “I… know I’ve no right to ask, but where did you get that weapon?”

Glancing at the scabbard strapped to her waist, Natalie shrugged. “A relative gave it to me when I left home. Something passed down through his family, he said.”

Nodding at that, Kistine asked, “May I see it? I wish to confirm something.”

Looking over at the resting Cole, Natalie unsheathed the weapon and handed it to Kistine. While the bitter rage in her wanted to spite the old woman, Natalie knew she needed to be better than that. The Werefolk were trying to play nice, so she should meet them at least halfway.

Holding the short sword, Kistine wrapped her fingers around the guardless hilt and examined its polished blade. Returning it to Natalie, she remarked. “I wonder if the Gods are involved and if they are, which ones. Whoever it is, they have a sick sense of humor.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Natalie asked. “What do you mean? Do you know this weapon?”

Shaking her head in the negative, Kistine let out a small bitter laugh. “No, but I’ve seen ones like it. That weapon is a Misoria Blade. A tool of cruel mercy.”

Looking at the weapon, Natalie repeated the word. “Misoria. What does that mean?”

Grimacing, Kistine looked away from the straight blade. “It's Late-Imperial; it means both Mercy and Misery. Depending on the context and what syllable you stress.”

Flipping the weapon over in her hands, Natalie’s mind came up with at least a dozen questions before Kistine started to elaborate. “They are weapons of euthanasia. Tools to kill as an act of final kindness. Crafted from Thunderbolt Iron with their tips dipped in blessed silver. Misorias bring final peace to the dying and the cursed”

Eyeing the weapon, Kistine folded her arms, her bangles clinking as she did. “I know of them only because they share history with my people. Many a Werefolk enslaved by their blood has met their end with these weapons. When I was a little girl… One of my uncles surrendered to his blood and did terrible, terrible things. A Warrior-Priest with one of those ended his life. It's a curious thing you find in your possession, Natalie.”

Sheathing the weapon, Natalie looked back toward Cole. “Thank you for the history, Kistine. I see what you mean about the Gods having a sick sense of humor.”

To Natalie’s surprise, Kistine put a gentle hand on her arm. “I do not mean to add to your grief, young Vampire but remember that weapon's purpose. Particularly if your partner starts to suffer. I’ve seen what a cruel infection can do. A blade thrust is more merciful.”

Stiffening at the morbid suggestion, Natalie nodded. “That won’t be needed, but I understand.”

Grimacing, Kistine pulled her hand back and chose her words carefully. “If the time comes and you need another to grant him peace… I will take that duty upon myself. That is little comfort, I know, but I will still offer it.”

Natalie looked away from the old Werewoman and nodded her head in understanding. With that, Kistine left Natalie. Returning to her pack and leaving the Paladin and Vampire alone in the makeshift tent. Slumping next to the cot, Natalie listened to the sound of Kistine’s shuffling footsteps crunch through the snow. This close to Cole, the smell of his blood was strong. Overpowering the herbs and antiseptic Kistine had used. Shaking her head at the seductive aroma, Natalie was surprised she hadn’t really noticed it till now. A surprising thing considering all the bloodshed and her own expenditures during the fight. Thinking about that, Natalie reached out with her mind to Grist and tried to reanimate him. She didn’t want to leave the skull somewhere in the woods.

A surge of pain hit Natalie like an arrow. A cold clear needle of agony rammed into her side, and she let out a yelp. Breaking her concentration, Natalie reached to the pain’s source. Instead of a sword or arrow sticking in her, she found Cole’s amulet tucked into a dress pocket. Gingerly pulling the small metal hourglass free. Natalie tossed it onto Cole. Careful to only touch the leather cord. The moment the amulet left Natalie’s person, the smell of Cole’s blood became much more intense. Forcing herself to stop breathing, Natalie backed away from Cole, surprised by the suddenness of the sensation.

Grist now answered her call, reforming and loping through the woods towards her, and she felt her blood supply drain as he formed a new spectral body. Glancing at the amulet sitting on Cole’s slowly moving chest, Natalie shrugged. It made sense; if it could knock her out, then having it on her person would stunt her abilities. Grist arrived, and Natalie knelt down to pet the phantom dog. Her fingers felt like they were passing through the cold fog to touch slightly damp fur. Grist seemed to appreciate the attention and let her scratch around his head and neck.

“I’ve never had a dog before.” Natalie mused. Then with a thought, she let the magic end, and Grist’s body faded. Returning him to a skull. Picking up said skull, Natalie went and found her pack and Coles. They’d dropped them before entering the fight, but Natalie had a little issue finding them. Placing the dog skull in her pack, Natalie returned to the tent and let out a deep sigh.

She’d not been looking forward to talking with Cole after facing the Ghouls, but she’d honestly prefer that to seeing him like this. Covered in blood-soaked bandages and barely breathing, Cole looked terrible. Leaning next to a nearby tree, Natalie was reminded of the time she’d found Cole at the Glockmire gates and dragged him home. A small smile at the memory died under another pang of homesickness. Annoyed at her ever-traterious mind, Natalie got up from her seat and moved closer to Cole. Ignoring the appetizing smell, Natalie licked her lips and got on her knees next to the cot.

Leaning over Cole, she placed her head on his chest and shut her eyes. His heart was slow but steady, a powerful drumbeat that she’d grown to associate with safety. Sitting like that, Natalie let out a pained sigh, making sure not to breathe back in the smell of blood. Turning her head, she looked at Cole’s unconscious face. Even in a drugged sleep, he looked pained. The sight made Natalie’s still heart twinge in pain. Without hesitation, Cole had jumped headlong into the jaws of a Werewolf to save her. Even after she betrayed his trust and messed everything up, the stupidly wonderful man hadn’t hesitated to suffer for her.

“I owe you the truth,” she said. “I tried to tell you at the Windmill but let myself be distracted… That sounds like a dumb excuse, I know, but it's true.” shutting her eyes and enjoying Cole’s warmth, she continued. “Okay, I guess what I’m trying to do is practice. I’m practicing my confession. So uh, just feel better, and I’ll do this.”

Feeling fantastically awkward, Natalie had to resist the urge to slam her head into Cole’s chest out of embarrassment. “Okay, so let me make this clear, Isabelle contacted me first. Jag, I sound like I’m making excuses. But she did! When I cut my finger before my Dad's funeral, she made some sort of magical connection. Jumped into my dreams and made me an offer. She would teach me how to be a Vampire, and I would make her a new body.”

“I didn’t take the deal. I don’t trust her. But I got her to teach me a few things. I should have told you then, not kept any secrets, but I didn’t. Partially because I don’t trust her, partially…because I am afraid. Afraid that if you have the option, you will pick her instead of me.”

Pulling her head up and looking at Cole, Natalie sorted through her jumbled thoughts. “When I was little, a boy I knew got a puppy for his birthday. He adored the puppy, named him Chester, and showed him to everyone in the town. But Chester got sick and died maybe two months after the boy got him. Alphonse, that was the boy, he cried for an entire week. Then his parents got him a new Puppy, and he was happy again.”

Swallowing her fear, Natalie made her point. “What I’m trying to say is… Well, am I your second Puppy? Do you love me for me, or am I just a stop-gap? Isabelle seems to think so, and she’s known you for longer than I have. While I don’t trust her, the sneaky bitch. I…I jag, I am afraid. And I let that fear rule me. I hid this whole thing from you, hoping foolishly that somehow you’d never find out. Thinking if Isabelle stayed dead, then I’d never have to learn if I was a replacement.”

Sitting back on her haunches, Natalie felt like she was about to cry. “Then, after the bandits, I hated myself. Losing control was terrible, and I thought maybe Isabelle could help me. It was stupid, but I went to her. I snuck behind your back and tried to get Isabelle’s help. We made a deal. She can talk to me in my dreams and sometimes when I’m awake. While I learn from her. She taught me how to raise Familiars and has promised to teach me more.”

Resisting the urge to take a steadying breath, Natalie leaned forward and placed herself on Cole’s chest again. In a half-whisper, she pleaded. “I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry for lying and all of this. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stop the Werewolf and needed your help. I’m sorry if…if I’m not enough.”

To her utter surprise, a large hand rested on her head. Freezing, eyes wide, Natalie reached up to where Cole rested his bloodied left hand on her head. Timidly she asked. “H-how much of that were you awake for?”

A rumbling laugh that turned into a cough escaped Cole. “Enough.”

Sitting up slightly, Natalie looked at Cole. Bleary-eyed and pale, he was conscious. Slowly with shaky fingers, Cole moved his hand to cup Natalie’s chin. Twisting his scarred face in a sad smile, he said. “You are you, Natalie. You are the woman I've fallen in love with.”

Clearing his throat and wheezing slightly, Cole said. “I love Isabelle, true, but I’m not looking for some shade of her in you. Natalie, you’ve helped me feel alive. Like there's more to life than duty. I’ve laughed more with you than I had in ten years. That means more than I can put into words.”

Letting her head fall to his chest and stroking her cheek, Cole continued. “We’ve both been thrown in way over our heads. I knew something was wrong but lacked the words to ask you what. For the past two months, I have been so busy acting as a Paladin. I’ve been an inadequate partner.”

Frowning, Natalie reached up to Cole’s face and traced some of his scars absently. “I’m trying to apologize. I’m the one who messed up, not you!”

Cole tried to shrug and winced in pain at the attempt. “You have been in pain, and from that pain, you made foolish choices. I failed to help remove that pain, so some of the blame falls on me.”

Bewildered, Natalie got up and carefully straddled Cole. Sitting atop him, careful to not hurt him, she looked down at Cole. Despite himself, Cole smiled. He could barely see Natalie in the dark, but the suggestions of a curvaceous form and long silken hair enraptured him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Natalie almost growled. “You silly, silly man! I messed up, so let me apologize, and don’t take any of this onto yourself!”

Glaring down at him with crimson eyes, Natalie said. “I betrayed your trust, conspired with your half-dead lover behind your back. Lied to you and generally acted like a moody, insecure teenager for the last few weeks! Let me apologize, dammit!”

Slumping down, so her forehead met Cole's, Natalie continued in a gentler tone. “You are not at fault for my screw-ups. Sure maybe in a perfect world, you might have found the right thing to say and help me. You didn’t, but you still tried to help. Which is all you can expect, really. Where I just made a mess of things. These are my mistakes, and I’m trying to fix them. Please let me?”

Enjoying the softness of Natalie’s body pressed against his, Cole nodded in assent. After a moment, Natalie softly said. “I love you, Cole. I’m scared of losing you. I let that fear control me and hurt both of us. Can you forgive me?”

Gently moving her head, so their lips touched, Cole kissed Natalie. A gentle thing, not burning with desire like some previous ones, but a more tender act of affection. “I love you too, Natalie. I can forgive anyone who is worthy, and you’ve shown me you are.”

Breaking the kiss, Natalie felt herself calm down. She’d opened her heart, and Cole had answered in kind. A powerful act, especially after the mess she’d caused. Natalie felt a great weight leave her shoulders. She had to resist the urge to snuggle into Cole, knowing putting too much of her body weight on him would be a bad idea. Still, she seemed to have miscalculated, Cole let out a slight groan, and Natalie pulled herself off of him. Whispering an apology, Natalie curled up next to the cott and put her head and elbows on it.

Looking at Cole, she asked. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

After a moment, Cole replied. “Like three Werewolves tried to kill me. So some water would be nice.”

Snorting in amusement, Natalie grabbed a water skin from Cole’s pack and helped him drink. After nearly emptying the almost full skin, Cole let out a relieved sigh and glanced around them. “What happened? I woke up when you put your head on me, but the last I remember was giving you my amulet.”

Gesturing towards the Werefolk camp, oblivious that Cole couldn’t see the gesture, Natalie explained. “They recognized the symbol, and we made nice. One of them is a Shaman and Surgeon of some kind. She treated you but said you wouldn’t make it through the night.”

Cole let out a pained chuckle. “I don’t think I did. It’s probably the only reason I’m conscious.”

Natalie grimaced at that. He was probably right, but it was strange to think about. That Cole might have died while she argued with Kistine or when they later discussed the Misoria Blade. Sobered by that thought. Natalie grabbed the second water skin and went back to Cole.

Looking around the shadowed tent they were in, Cole sighed. “Werefolk, I’ve had little dealings with them. How many do you think there are?”

Seeing Cole shiver, Natalie got to work, starting a small fire, and asked. “It was hard to tell, maybe twenty?”

As the first bit of tinder started to crackle and spark, Cole let out a pleased sigh. “I’m not surprised they didn’t leave a fire. I’ve met Werefolk who walk through blizzards wearing only a loincloth and body hair.”

Gathering what little dry material she could, Natalie fed the small fire and hoped its heat would reach Cole. She’d hate for him to freeze to death or get a cough from this. Not that she’d seen him suffer any from bad weather before. Curiously she asked. “Hey Cole, can you get sick?”

After a moment of thought, he answered. “I think so? But I don’t know for certain. Hmm, maybe not?”

A silken voice from beside Natalie said. “He can’t, at least not for long. His body is stronger than any mundane contagion, and any magical malady will kill him quickly. Letting him reset without their side effects. So no danger of him becoming a Werewolf.”

Jumping up and spinning around, Natalie saw Isabelle leaning against a tree. An amused expression on her noble features. Stunned, Natalie watched as Isabelle strowed over towards Cole and looked at him. Upon seeing him, a flicker of sadness passed over Isabelle’s features, but it quickly faded. “He’s healing faster than I expected. How interesting. Be a dear and convey my love to him, little Natalie.”

Between eye blinks, the phantom Isabelle disappeared. Leaving a shocked Natalie. Realizing something was wrong, Cole asked. “Did you hear something? What is it?”

Uncertainty and fear flickered through Natalie. “You know how I mentioned I made a deal with Isabelle? How she could contact me. Well, she just appeared and said you can’t get sick. She…she also said to give you her love.”

Cole was silent for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Ah. Well… this complicates things.”

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