Young Writers Society

For hundreds of years the Pack (the werewolf/dire wolf/worg alliance) has been the apex predator of Ethnu, rivaled only by the orcs. A few hundred years ago, a woman named Avren arose and rallied the humans, gnomes, and halfling to fight against them, founding an order called the Hunters who stood for law, equality, and, above all, protection of the innocent.

They fought the Pack, and now, finally, the Hunters have beaten back the wolves (Hunter slang for werewolf/dire wolf/worg) into hiding. However, it won't last for long, and the Pack still is growing in numbers.

One of the ways they recruit soldiers is by taking in human 'cubs' and raising them as wolves. At twelve, they are pitted in a sort of Hunger games to root out the weak and leave only the single strongest remaining. This is where the story starts.

Agrona, the MC, is one of the wolf-children. She wins the Ru'leth as it is called and is initiated into the Pack as a werewolf.

Problem is, it's two months later and the wolf blood still hasn't taken affect- it is unheard of for someone to be naturally immune to lycanthropy. They realize that she must be Hunter-borne, the Chosen of Avren. That would explain her strength and fighting instinct, but it also means that she must die because she is destined to be a danger to the Pack.

So they try to kill her. She blacks out, and the next thing she knows, she's in a darkened town, the hunting howls of wolves telling her she hasn't escaped yet. She runs into an abandoned inn and finds a locked trapdoor in a storage room. She picks the lock and finds herself stumbling into the den of the Thieves' Guild. They are impressed at her ability to pick the lock and take her in.

A few years later, she's fifteen. Some little things happen I won't bore you with, and one day she comes back from a job and finds Inialos (one of the leaders of the Hunters, known as the Dragon) in the Guild's den packing off the last thief. Her instinct takes control and she shifts from like a werewolf would into a dire dog (an ability of the Guard Dog, one of the three leader positions of the Hunters) and attacks him.

Now the Hunters know she is Hunter-borne. They make her a deal- they'll drop charges if she joins the Hunters. Initially her answer is no, she's loyal to the Guild (a typical Guard Dog choice). Then the Pack attacks- they've found her.

She promptly escapes in the commotion and draws the wolves away from the Hunters and civilians to protect them (again, Guard Dog= protection). The Hunters run in to help before the wolves kill her and she ends up joining the Hunters. There are reasons for this change of heart, but this is already too long.

At this point she changes her name from Agrona to Tasha, because having a wolf name in a group of Hunters is just *maybe* not a good idea.

She rises in the ranks of the Hunters quickly, but she has to learn how to a) work with the law, b) follow orders, c) discipline so she doesn't lose control of her shape-shifting, and d) some serious social skills. Kolvar, the Cougar, another of the three leaders acts as her mentor and teaches her discipline, control, and pretty much reforms her from a dishonorable lone thief to a lawful guardswoman.

When she's nineteen, she leaves the hold without permission to seek vengeance on the wolves that turned on her (Lupus and Grimm). She finds them and kills Grimm, then proceeds to attempt to kill Lupus. However, she fails and he gets away.

A bit after this Evelyn, the former Guard Dog dies, and Tasha is initiated as the next Guard Dog.

Soon after this the Huntress emerges, the Chosen of the werewolf deity Winter of Vengeance, Survival, and the Hunt. This opens into the next book/part (depending on how many words the trilogy ends with) called Hunted in which Tasha and Silver (the werewolf chosen) are MCs as it switches between their points of view.

I hit the dirt, sending my opponent flying over me. He spun around as he landed, his teeth bared in a snarl. I growled back as I crouched. My heart was pumping faster than I could count, adrenaline making my senses inhumanly keen. Neither of us had weapons of any sort- just our hands and our wits.

Around us, the chorusing howls of werewolves and their kind grew louder, egging us on. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to kill another cub.

The boy charged and I stepped aside. This time, however, he anticipated the dodge, and he grabbed me as I sidestepped, throwing me into the ground. Winded, I tried to roll to my feet. He was faster. He pinned me down and raised a fist, ready to beat my skull into pulp.

I didn’t have time to worry about ethics. He was trying to kill me- I would survive.

I kneed him in the stomach. He grunted and winced, loosening his grip ever so slightly, giving me the chance I needed to roll out from under him.

We were on even ground again. He was stronger, but I was faster. I lunged forward, feinting to the left. Naturally he moved to block. I took advantage of that and darted to the right, pivoting behind him. Before he could react I wrapped one hand around his chest and the other around his head.

The wolves’ cries rose in volume, yowling to the full moon overhead.

No. I couldn’t kill. Not another.

He began to break free from my hold.

No, I told myself. I would survive!

With one smooth movement, I jerked my hands away from one another. There was a sickening snap as I broke his neck. Limply, he fell to the ground. Lifeless.

Their yowls became deafeningly loud as I raised my arms and howled in victory.

I had survived.

Out of the crowd stepped an elf with dark brown hair. In his hand he held a bone ritual knife that legend said was made out of a dragon fang. I ducked my head as appropriate as a wolf of lower rank than our alpha. Behind him was a large, burly man- my adoptive father, Lupus. Next to him strode a horse-sized wolf. Her lower fangs were maybe 15 inches long, serrated on the inside. Her fur was deep mahogany, her eyes glistening gold. That was my mother, Grimm.

Wordlessly the elf handed me the knife and stepped back. The pack was suddenly silent- the only sounds were that of quiet shuffling and the murmur of wind through the trees. I took the blade and placed it on my palm, slicing it open. Closing my hand I passed the dagger to Lupus who followed suit, then extended his bloody fingers towards me.

I took his hand and our blood mixed. Eoin, the elf, took our hands and raised them. “I name thee Agrona,” he proclaimed. “The Harbinger of Death, victor of the 42nd Ru’leth!”

The canines around me burst into howls as he finished.

I was a wolf.
_____________________

Being infected with lycanthropy either from a bite or has multiple outcomes, caused by a rather large set of variables and complicated interactions between them. The short version is this: those that fight hard and long enough die from the effort and those that finally give in become wolves. Very few have survived and remained human- certainly no one within a couple hundred years. Even if one did survive, it didn’t come easy. Fighting the wolf came with much sickness and pain.

The longest it took for an outcome was perhaps a month. Two months later and I’d showed no symptoms of become a werewolf whatsoever. I guess that concerned my parents, because when they returned one night from what I’d assumed was hunting they’d actually been talking to Eoin. I could tell by his scent on them. Automatically I assumed they’d been talking about me- it was the most logical conclusion to draw from the current circumstances.

What I didn’t expect was them to try to kill me. I wonder why that came as a surprise, for in hindsight it was fairly obvious. It was Grimm’s low growl that first alerted me to danger. I turned to my parents who were moving to either side of me. Flanking me.

I didn’t have to ask. I knew a hunting wolf when I saw one. The flanking, their body positions, the way they moved, the tone in my mother’s snarl were all indicative of danger.

“I’m sorry,” Lupus muttered. “But what must be done must be done.”

And he leapt, his forms changing from that of a man to a wolf.

My heartbeat resonating in my ears…the rush of adrenaline…color washed from the world…a single instinct: protect, survive- kill.

And all went black.

The next thing I knew I was behind a ramshackle hovel in an unfamiliar town. Judging by the scents of humans it was fairly active and there were residents, but the silence and darkness betrayed nothing of their presence. The hunting song of the Pack could be heard in the distance, Grimm’s and Lupus’ voices easily discernible in the cacophony of howls.

I ran. There was nothing else I could do. Sprinting through the shacks I ducked into the most abandoned looking building I could find in the hopes of seeking refuge. It was an inn, an often used one if the cleanliness of the place meant anything.

Vaulting over the bar, I raced through the back door and into a storage room. I fumbled around when my bare toe slammed into something metal. Cussing in wolf, I knelt to feel whatever it was. A ring. A ring linked to another ring by a lock. It was a trapdoor, a locked trapdoor. If I could get into it, I might be able to evade the Pack. Reaching into a pocket I pulled out a slim wire. Even though lock picking wasn’t commonly taught among wolves, I’d learned when scavenging scraps from locked caches.

After what seemed like an eternity I finally unlocked it and the metal hunk clattered to the ground. I hurriedly ducked inside the tunnel and found myself climbing down a ladder.

The tunnel was full of shadows. A bit of torchlight reflected off the walls, but its as
dimmed by the smoke from the fire. A steady drip-drip told me water fell from the ceiling somewhere as the noise echoed through the cavern. It was a bit intimidating, but I was more afraid of what was behind me than ahead. Without hesitation, I bolted down the passageway.

I lost track of the twists and turns, so naturally one more sharp turn didn’t surprise me. What I found there did.

I ran straight into what appeared to be a tavern. Humans of all shapes, sizes, ages, and genders were working at almost any activity possible. Drinking, brawling, gambling, bartering, cheating, stealing, boasting, bluffing, observing, and even arm wrestling. I had no idea how I hadn’t detected the din prior to stumbling into the pandemonium, but it promptly silenced as I did.

For several seconds it was so quiet you could hear a needle drop on the stone as I faced the room full of surprised commoners. Eventually a man stood up. He didn't look like anything special- brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin. He wore the standard tunic and breeches with no visible weapons. There was a sort of aura about him though, an attitude that suggested he was at the very least the beta if not the alpha.

He said something to me in common. I stared at him blankly, not comprehending the alien speech. I knew the wolf tongue and I knew Scanran, not whatever language this was. He repeated the words. Again I remained silent. Finally he switched to wolf, the second most common language of the area. That I understood.

“Who are you?”


“Who’s asking?” I retorted.

“You aren’t really in a position to be asking the questions,” he pointed out. “You’re
in my territory, not the other way ‘round.” He did have a point there.
“Agrona.”

“What are you doing here?”


“Talking to you.”

His look said it all.

“Running,” I quickly corrected.

“From who?”

“The Pack. Who else? Those howls aren’t coming from nowhere, you know.”

“Why would they be chasing down one of their own wolf-children?” A wolf-child
was someone like me- born human, raised by the Pack.

“Because they couldn’t turn me to a wolf,” I answered.

“How did you get in?”

“I picked the lock.”

“You, a mere child, picked our best lock?” The man was incredulous.

“Yes.”

His eyes lit up. “You wouldn't happen to be in need of a job?”

Chapter 2

They called themselves the Pride, though the rest of the world knew them as the Thieves’ Guild or simply just ‘the Guild.’ Their leader was the Wildcat who’d been the one who initially recruited me. The rules of the Guild were simple: give them a share of your pickings, and they gave you food and board. Don’t cause trouble, don’t steal from other members of the Pride or the poor, pay your share. The one thing you never, ever did was leave the cat waiting for his pay.
“Pay the ‘Cat, simple as t’at,” Ari said to me the first time we met. “Tis what we say t’ remind t’ newbloods ‘bout t’e rules.” He was of the friendly sort, with messy sandy hair and dark brown eyes. His skin was deep tan from long days spent in the sun in the plains and his smile was warm. Lynx had brought be to him and told Ari he was to teach me Common and show me the ropes.
“But outside of them rules, remember t’is, because it very well may save yer life ‘un day. It the most important ’n often t’e ‘ardest fer t’e kits t’e learn: never trust no one, not friends, not family- just yerself. Others, t’ey’ll backstab y’, ’n steal from y’, ’n betray y’. Yer t’e only ‘un who won’t. Y’ t’ink y’ can learn t’at?”
My voice was cold and my eyes hard as I answered. “I already did.”
“Did y’ now?”
“I’m hunted by me own pack,” I snarled. “I know ‘bout betrayal.”
“Perhaps. I suppose we’ll be seein’, eh, newblood?”
And so we would.
I picked up Common pretty quickly, and was able to get by within a few months. By the end of the year I was all but fluent in the thieves’ cant. I was a natural at sneaking and stealing and all went well. I worked my way through the ranks with relative ease and learned from my mistakes rather promptly- those that didn’t were caught by the Guard or Hunters one too many times and didn’t come back.
The one thing I had a difficult time with was getting along with the other Guild members. Being a wolf-child, I’d learned to follow my instinct, for it had kept me alive. Here, too, it aided me, but I was to fast to fight. Since the first time my power had manifested —when I’d blacked out back in the Pack’s lands— it had a tendency to come out more. I suppose it was like going down a one-way road: once I’d begun, I couldn’t go back.
As a result, when I got into fights as I had a tendency to do, it ended badly. One moment I’d simply be pinning my opponent to show them who was alpha, the next someone would be pulling me off of them, my fists scarlet with their blood.
One of the lessons I remember most clearly is when I was out one night. It was after curfew and dumping rain in sheets down onto the cobblestones. Generally you tried to steal during the day if you were a pickpocket like me, and then get back at night so you wouldn’t get in trouble for being out late.
Unfortunately, it’d taken longer than expected to get back because of the downpour. Thus, I was out after nightfall, a none too pleasing prospect. I was taking the back alleyways and roofs back to the Lair when I slipped on a slick stone. Wincing, I stood and glanced around to see a flickering lamp nearing me. Knowing it was too late to get away from the watchman, I pulled the stolen ring from my belt pouch and slipped it behind a loose brick so I couldn’t be charged with stealing on top of being out after curfew.
“Hey! You!” The man yelled at me.
“Yea sir?” I stopped my nonchalant stroll.
“What are y’ doin’ out so late?” he demanded. “Without a light, no less. Stealin’, perhaps? Maybe sneakin’ in somewhere when y’ ‘ad t’e shadows t’ hid behind?”
“No, sir,” I said rather hurriedly, feigning shock and offense at his accusation. “I earn me money through a good, honest livin’. I ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with them rats!”
“I’m sure,” he said, not really buying it. “Mind if y’ tell me what yer doin’ out?”
“Goin’ home ‘fter a late night,” I answered. “See, I was goin’ t’ go n’ talk t’ t’e blacksmith ‘bout some scrap metal ‘e could spare, and the rain slowed me goin’ ‘ome. I pushed it, ’n now I’m stuck out ‘ere now.”
“What is it y’ do, exactly, needin’ scrap metal?”
“Why, I’m a locksmith,” I said.
“Really? I ain’t heard o’ y’.”
“Well, apprentice, really,” I answered, scuffing my foot to make it seem as though I was a bit abashed at my boldness.
“T’ who?”
That was one thing I could answer without making something up on the spot. “Ari,” I answered.
“He never mentioned havin’ a ‘pprentice.”
“New,” I said. “Just barely convinced ‘im ‘bout takin’ me today. Been needlin’ ‘im for a while, so now ‘e’s got me runnin’ errands fer a bit.”
He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but I thought it was enough to escape a night in the cages.
I was wrong.
It was a bit of a struggle to get me there, but eventually he managed it. I was thrown into a small cell already packed with dirty scoundrels. Flies were abundant, probably because of the dead body in the corner, blood from a shiv in his back. Poor schmuck probably didn’t even see it coming.
I might have even managed to leave without getting in a fight if it weren’t for those thugs. There were three of them, all big and husky just like good thugs were.
“Lookie ‘ere what t’e kitty dragged in,” the lead one said, sidling up to me.
“Go away,” I growled. “I ain’t interested.”
He caressed my face, brushing a stray orange lock from my cheek. “Are you sure?”
In response I slammed my knee between his legs. Good riddance.
When I returned to the Lair, I had a black eye, three broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and a broken nose.
“Well, ain’t you a sight,” Felicia noted as I stumbled in the next morning.
“I got nagged by Nightwatch,” I grumbled.
“Mhm. And then y’ got yerself in a fight like y’ always are.” She was amused. Amused. That just put me in an even worse mood. Growling something about curfew and Nightwatch under my breath, I made my way past Felicia and to someone who could actually patch me up.
Nothing was like the day the Wildcat summoned me, however. There were only two reasons you got summoned: either you’d done something very, very wrong or you’d been doing exceedingly well. The latter was extremely rare, but I hoped for it. I didn’t want to get on the bad side of the ‘Cat.
After what seemed like an eternity of weaving through damp passageways, I finally reached a wooden door. It was plain, nothing significant about it. Except for the knocker, that was- in the shape of a lynx. Swallowing nervously, I pounded the door.
“Come in.”
The Wildcat was the first one I’d met when I first stumbled in on the Guild. That aura of authority about him still remained, and his blue eyes had become no less piercing.
“You summoned me.” I bowed my head in respect.
“Yes. I have a mission for you and Ari to aid me on. Felicia will be helping supply disguises, of course.”
Of course? What kind of mission was this?

“I presume you’ve heard of Lord Kennewick?”
I nodded. Kennewick was the lord of the neighboring town, and one of the richer ones- wealthy enough even to possess a white gyrfalcon, a bird reserved mostly for kings.
“And of his hawk?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sure you can deduce my thinking.”
“Steal t’e bird?” I was incredulous- that was insanity. To steal a raptor, especially one so fine from a renowned noble— even if we did succeed it was suicide. When the Guard found out…I didn’t want to think about what would happen.
“Yes.”
“But…” Of course arguing with the Wildcat maybe wasn’t the best idea. I realized this halfway through my sentence and trailed off.
“But it’s dangerous. Risky. If we get caught, which is likely, punishment is severe. Even if that wasn’t a concern, how do we get in? How will we find a buyer for such black goods?”
Slowly I nodded.
“I’ve worked it all out. The Hunters are busy, and if we play our cards right they won’t be able to track us anyways. We’ll disguise ourselves as nobles, sneak into the ball Kennewick’s holding, retrieve the loot, and scram. Simple as that.”
“What’ll I be doin’?”
“Why, you’re the keystone of this plan of mine. The three of us— you, Ari, and I— are going to pose as nobles and you are going to get the bird. Once you have it, pass it off to Felicia, but make sure you keep the hood and bells- those are valuable. Then we kill time until the end of the party and return here.”
I was the keystone of the plan. Me. Agrona. The wolf-child who’d stumbled in on the Guild so many years ago, now working with the leader of the Guild.
“So what’re me orders, t’en?”
“Go to Felicia and give her this.” He handed me a folded note. “She’ll take it from there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’ll be all. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” I ducked out of the room.
That was how I managed to get stuck in a dress on my fifteenth birthday. We’d spent many weeks preparing for the festivities so that we could blend in as nobles. I’d learned to speak with proper grammar, dance, and use proper manners as well as the geography and about the nobles that we would encounter there. Beyond that, we’d had to make characters, believable ones. I was Lady Branwen of the northern town of White Raven on the Borderlands. My father had recently passed, closely followed by my mother, so I’d been the only one left to take over our small town, in title only. For the most part it was Lord Arsalaan, a close family friend from Gorenstead who was portrayed by Ari.
Felicia gave my hair the last few adjustments before stepping back and analyzing my image. I prayed that she was done- I’d been standing there for over two hours as she helped me with my dress, did my make up and hair, and quizzed me on my character, all the while making me talk correctly instead of allowing me to slip into the street lilt I’d become so used to.
“That’ll do,” she finally said, her deep brown eyes thoughtful. “Now, tell me the plan, Lady Branwen.”
“I’m t’-“ I began before she cut me off.
“To. Now start again.”
“I’m to mingle with the nobles until Lynx gives me the signal. Then I find a way to the falcon, retrieve it, and bring it to you. After that I return to Ari and Lyn and kill time until the party ends.”
“And who is Ari?”
“Lord Arsalaan, a close friend who is taking care of my town, White Raven, until I come of age. He rules over Gorenstead.”
“Good, good. I do believe you’re ready, my dear Agrona.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Oh, I’m sure I am. It’s your lucky day, after all- you’re fifteen today, yes?” Despite her strictness, Felicia was a kind soul.
I grinned. “Yep!”
“Then all the more luck to you. Now go meet Ari and Lynx before they start wondering what’s been keeping you. I’ll be right up with the carriage.” She shooed me out and I sprinted outside, quite a trick in the shoes I was being forced to wear.
“Where were you?” The Wildcat demanded as I slipped through the backdoor behind the tavern that we lived under.
“Just finishin’ w’ me disguise, sir,” I answered hurriedly.
“Finishing with my disguise,” Ari corrected.
“We ain’t t’ere yet,” I protested. “Don’ go makin’ me talk like them rich folk when we ain’t even gone nowhere.”
“Get into character now so you won’t have to later,” he advised. “It’s better that way.”
I knew better than to argue with Ari, so despite the impulse to do so I shut my mouth.
Felicia was up shortly with a black coach drawn by a pair of ebony horses. They were absolutely beautiful creatures, with shining blue coats and muscles rippling beneath the fur. Felicia herself sat at the front of the carriage, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“Here y’ are, m’ lords, lady,” she said. Lynx got in first, followed by Ari, and, lastly, myself.
I’d never ridden in a carriage before, or even on a horse. I’d only ever travelled on my own two feet, something I quickly found I preferred. I had no control whatsoever of where we went or how we got there- I was simply a passenger.
The thatch-roofed houses sped by, peasants stopping their work to stare at us as we trotted past. It all seemed so…distant, detached. I could feel every rock and bump in the road.
Soon the village was gone and in its place sat the never-ending sea of grassy savannah that populated the whole of the human lands. There was the cry of a gryphon in the distance as it proclaimed its prey as its own shortly after we startled a small herd of antelope. The sun was setting, casting fiery scarlet, brilliant titian, and shining golden rays across the formerly blue sky. The sun itself was orange in the fading light, making it seem all the brighter. Above it was Akaron, the brightest star in the sky. The first to rise in the morning and the last to set in the eve- that was why Akaron Hold, the first of the Hunter strongholds, had been named after it. It would persist through the night and the twilight, leaving only when nothing remained but the light.

Kennewick’s mansion was huge, bigger than anything I’d seen. It was made of stone and was two stories, with a large courtyard and walled gardens. The horses’ hooves clacked across the cobbled road as we came up to the entrance of the palace. I was the last one out, trying not to stare at the huge building- it would be a dead giveaway that I didn’t belong there.

‘Lord Arsalaan’ helped me out of the carriage as Felicia drove off and offered me his arm. I took it and the two of us followed Lynx inside to the ballroom.

The only room I’d been in that was the same size as this one was the Lair, which served as a home, a kitchen, a hideaway, and a workplace. But this…this was only for one purpose- parties. He could afford a room as large as the Guild’s own hall but that was entirely for entertainment. Any guilt I might have felt at stealing from Lord Kennewick immediately dissipated.

The man himself was there in the ballroom entertaining early arrivals. When he saw us enter, he came over to greet us.

“Ah, Lord Gunju,” he welcomed Lynx. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Who is this you’ve brought?”

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Kenniwick,” the Wildcat said with a bow. “This is Lord Arsalaan of Gorenstead and Lady Branwen of White Raven.”

“A pleasure to meet you both. Do come and make yourselves comfortable. How have you been?”

As the two old ‘friends’ spoke I surveyed the room. A small orchestra was in the corner providing music for the dancers. A large table sat towards the left side of the room, presumably for the feast. Judging by the amount of chairs I guessed that there would be thirty or so nobles coming. But what about the falcon?

It was his prized possession, so of course he would be showing it off. The chair at the head of the table had claw marks on the back from the bird, so it would probably be brought out during the meal and returned to the mews after so that at all times it was secure. I couldn’t take it while it was in the ballroom- there were simply too many eyes. Even the best sneak couldn’t pull that off. Thus, I either had to break into the mews and steal the bird from there or intercept the falconer as he was transporting the bird.

The orchestra began a new as I analyzed the room and my options, and Ari swept me up in a dance. I didn’t resist as he lead me to the middle of the floor, nearer to the music.

“Plan?” he whispered in my ear.

“Either I get into the mews or I intercept the falconer,” I muttered back.

“The lock will be difficult if you choose the former.”

“I picked the one into the Guild. It’ll be fine.”

“You have to wait until after the meal,” he pointed out. “Or they’ll notice. Pretend to feel ill right after the feast and I’ll cover for you. Excuse yourself and do your work. We’ll meet you at the stables.”

I nodded as Ari began the innocent small talk that most nobles used when they mingled.

A few hours later and the feast was laid out. Kennewick said a prayer to Tiamat, the primary human deity, and we began to eat. Sure enough, a nearly pure white falcon was brought in and placed on the back of Kennewick’s chair. It’s plumage was like snow, and it was bigger than any longwing I’d seen- more like hawk sized than falcon. It wore a green hood with the plumes of a pheasant on the top knot. The bells that jingled about its ankles were engraved -I could tell from how the light glinted off of them- and embossed with silver and gold. A prized bird indeed.

For two hours I sat and ate and spoke to these other detestable rich folk. After what seemed like an eternity we finally returned to dancing and mingling and the hawk was brought back to its mew.

That was my cue. I swayed slightly and leaned my hand on the wall, as though for support, closing my eyes and panting slightly as though I didn’t feel well.

“Lady Branwen?” Ari said. “My Lady?”

“I…I’m alright,” I breathed, regaining my feet.

“No, that won’t do. Why don’t you go get some air? I’ll let Lord Gunju and Lord Kennewick know that we will depart early.”

“No, really, I’m alright.”

“Branwen,” he said sternly. “You are ill. Now go take a breather while I inform them.”

“Yes, Lord Arsalaan,” I said, bowing my head as I stepped outside.

Thank the gods that was over. I moved into the shadow of the manor and slipped off my heeled shoes, leaving them behind a corner. Now to find the mews and get that damn bird.

I hitched up my skirt and walked in silence towards the long building that housed the raptors. It was a moonless night, and with only the starlight to betray my presence I made my way to the locked door. I slipped a lockpick out of my sleeve and began working it in the lock, biting my lip in concentration.

Finally it clicked and the door swung open, revealing rows of small rooms with hawks within them, tethered or free-lofted. I padded to the back where I found the equipment and grabbed the dutch hood, slipping it into my bag, and then found myself a much more practical one to use that was made of plain leather with a simple top knot as well as a glove to fit my hand.

I looked through the small window in each door until I found the bird I was looking for and promptly fished out my lockpicks once more. Again I inserted the slim wire into the lock and opened it, leaving me looking in on a small room with the hawk tethered to a block perch in the middle of a pebbled floor. I pulled on the glove and approached the bird, praying it wouldn’t make a sound to betray my presence.

It simply watched me and bobbed its head in interest. I showed it my fist, unsure of how to pick it up. I didn’t want to whistle like the falconers did, but that was the only way I’d seen them call their hawks. Evidently, I didn’t need the whistle, for it leaped to my hand without hesitation or expectation of a reward. I grabbed its jesses in my hand and fished out the hood I’d grabbed.

That was when I realized I didn’t know how to use the damn thing. After many attempts, I finally managed to get the thing over the birds head and draw the braces. I grabbed a knife and cut the bells off its ankles so they didn’t jingle as I carried it.

Without a sound I returned to the stables, retrieving my shoes on the way. I turned the corner, opened the door-

And there was Kennewick, waiting to send me off. Luckily, the bird and the glove was still hidden behind the door. If it hadn’t been hooded I would have sent it off my fist, but I doubted it would go anywhere blinded as it was.

“I’m sorry to hear that you are ill, Lady Branwen,” he said. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

My heart was beating a million miles an hour, a pit was in my stomach, a lump sat in my throat. “The pleasure was mine, Lord Kennewick,” I managed to choke out without sounding completely terrified.

I glanced back at Ari and Lyn, who were watching, just as scared as I was that he’d realize I was hiding my hand.

Felicia wasn’t there.

I sent a prayer to Shadowfang, the goddess of shadows and deception, hoping against all odds that we’d somehow get out of this.

“I trust we will meet again soon,” Kennewick was saying.

“I look forward to that day,” I responded, as I felt the bird shift off my hand. I risked a glance too see Felicia lifting the bird onto her own ungloved arm. She pulled the gauntlet off of me and disappeared behind the corner of the barn just as Kennewick stepped past me and returned inside.

All three of us released our bated breath as Felicia came in the back of the stables with the bird on her fist.

“Did you get the hood and bells?” Lynx asked me.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

Felicia led the horses outside and once more we boarded the carriage.

Chapter 3: Kennel

I hit the ground running- literally. The guards were on my tail as I bolted down an alleyway to the backstreets that I knew so well. Once they were on my home turf, I had the advantage. Darting around a corner I slid through the backdoor to an abandoned building and vaulted through a trapdoor that opened into the sewers- a back entrance to the Lair. Even if the guards did pursue me down there, they wouldn’t be able to keep up.
I kept up the speed for several more minutes before the yells of pursuit were out of earshot. From there I found my way to the Guild. The Wildcat would be happy with my catch- a ring off of the finger of Lord Kennewick himself. He was the only noble that ever came through town, the poor bugger.
Padding down the last tunnel, I waited for the sounds of our tavern to reach my ears. None came. Silence.
Frowning, I slowed, unsure. Dropping into a low crouch I made my way to the door and pressed my ear to it.
“That’s the last one,” a man was saying. “According to our list we’re missing one of the ones that got into Kennewick’s manor, the one who pretended to be Lady Branwen, but all the others are bagged, sir.”
“Well, find her. I don’t want to tell Kennewick that we lost some fifteen-year-old scoundrel.” His voice was authoritative and I had no doubt that this was the top dog.
“Yes, sir. We’re sending out guards through the sewer now, but she knows them better than we do.”
“Well, we’ll do what we can, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Footsteps receded.
“I know you’re there.” The second man’s voice didn’t seem to be addressing anyone- I couldn’t hear another soul in there. “Are you really going to make me come find you, kid?”
Was he talking to me?
“You’ve got about five seconds before I come and get you.”
He was talking to me. I fell back- I needed to run before I met the same fate as the rest of the Guild.
“5…”
I turned and raced down the hallway.
“4…”
The yells of guards trying to find me somewhere up ahead.
“3…”
The desperation of trying to escape as I spun around and went back the way I came.
“2…”
There he was, blocking my path.
“1.”
The man’s brown eyes glinted from the reflection of the broadsword in his hand. “You are under arrest. Surrender yourself or surrender your rights.”
I would have run. I should have run. That’s what my head told me to do, that’s what Ari would have told me to do.
My instinct thought differently. Fight.
No.
Fight.
I couldn’t.
Fight.
He’d destroyed the Guild, my family, my home.
Fight.
I had to. The world became black and white, the contrast stark in the darkness that had formerly blurred my vision. Every detail was visible now. I could hear the man’s heartbeat, smell his sweat, feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins….
Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, the guardsman pinning me down. I growled, struggling to get free, but he was bigger and stronger than I. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d gotten there, but there wasn’t much time to worry about what had happened.
He pulled a rope off his belt and began to tie my hands. “You are under arrest for major thievery, breaking and entering, and impersonating a noble.” The punishment for which was death.
I didn’t say a word as he hauled me to my feet and dragged me to the cart with the last of the Guild. I didn’t know any of the thieves there very well- the Pride was big, and I didn’t recognize them all.
_________________

The door clanged shut behind me with a finality to it sure as death itself. My weapons had, of course, been taken and unfortunately they’d all been found. I paced like a caged beast, back and forth and back and forth, never faltering in my step..
Step, step, step, pivot, step, step, step, pivot, step, step, step, pivot…
I lost track of time. I simply put one foot in front of another again and again and again.
The Guild was gone, obliterated. Any semblance of family or of pack I’d had was now gone. I couldn’t become a werewolf and go back where I came. I didn’t know my parents. Now I was trapped, trapped like some beast and awaiting my death sentence!
No home.
Step.
No family.
Step.
No pack.
Step.
No life.
Pivot.
I slammed my fist into the wall with such fury that I actually managed to put a crack in the brick. Oblivious to the pain this caused me, I did it again.
Why was I damned to this eternal circle? Fight, find home, find place, find pack, be slammed back down!
Crack.
I had done nothing, nothing to deserve this!
Slam.
Why me?
The brick shattered into a billion pieces, falling to the ground with hollow chinks, scattered across the floor like my life.
Damn!
I fell back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t win. There had to be a way, any way, to get out of here. I was going to go mad in that brick cell, pacing along the same wall over and over.
Footsteps interrupted my reverie. They were probably coming to feed me- they couldn’t have me starve to death before the execution, now could they?
A key scraped in the lock and the door creaked open. Two guards stood in the entryway. The one in front gestured for me to put my hands behind my back so he could tie them.
I growled. I might die, but I sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight.
That was a very bad, very reckless idea that earned me a broken nose, a black eye, and several bruises.
They dragged me down the hallway to another cell, this one with a table and two chairs in it. Great. An interrogation room.
The second guard shoved me into a seat and stood back as the first disappeared outside. I snarled as he pushed me, but couldn’t resist.
The man who’d arrested me entered the room, a white and silver Hunter-bred dog at his heels. It gave me a glare as the man took a seat across from me. He smelled…odd, something I hadn’t noticed before. I couldn’t place the scent but it was definitely not a normal one.
“My name is Inialos,” he was saying. “I’m the Dragon, the Last of the Three.” So he was a Hunter, and a damn good one, too, to be one of the leaders.
I gave him a death glare and didn’t answer.
“You don’t have many options,” he said. “Actually, right now, you don’t have any. As of the first day of Raliith — which is tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken — you’ll be strung up with the rest of your friends and get to find out what death really looks like.”
“What’s yer point?” I growled.
“I’m willing to give you another option. Join the Hunters and I’ll give you a pardon.”
What? What motive would he have to do that? I was just some common thief — or, rather, a very damn good one — not anyone who was Hunter material. Hell, they were more than just guards- werewolf hunters nonetheless.
And, being a Hunter, I had no doubt that he’d recognized my distinct albeit very slight accent.
“What do you say?”
What did I say? He was giving me a chance at life, but that meant betraying the closest thing I’d had to family since the Pack cast me out. I couldn’t do that. They had my loyalty, through hell and back again if need be. I shook my head.
Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem overly surprised. “Don’t take this, and you’ll be dead by tomorrow.”
I just watched him with those icy blue eyes of mine, making it very, very clear that I wasn’t going to betray them.
“Why wouldn’t you take this?”
Finally I spoke. “I ain’t betrayin’ me own guild fer life ‘r anythin’ else. Ain’t for them I’d be dead in a hole somewhere, so I ain’t ‘bout t’e leave ‘em.”
I don’t know what I expected his reaction to be, but I hadn’t expected that satisfied smile that crossed his face. I was about to make a sarcastic comment about it when the song reached my ears.
The Huntsong. Howls echoing across the plains with promise of blood and chaos and death. I had no doubt about who they were coming for- me.
Inialos stood so fast his chair hit the floor when he heard the cries and bolted out the door, leaving me with quite the predicament. The guards came back, gesturing for me to stand up. Didn’t they ever just talk?
I ignored them. If my plan was to work, I needed them closer.
Sure enough, they came forward to grab me. As the first guard extended his arm to haul me to my feet, I grabbed the chair and spun, winding him. He stumbled back as the second one drew his sword. How considerate.
Thank the gods I was good at unarmed combat.
Number two charged me with his sword to the side, leaving himself open for attack. Idiot. Did he think I couldn’t fight? I charged back and slammed him with my shoulder. He hadn’t expected that. Stupid, underestimating me just because I was only fifteen. Fifteen year olds can fight.
Now number one was standing back up and drawing his own blade. He advanced with number two, cornering me.
The howls were growing louder, faster, more consistent. They had almost reached the climax of their song. When they did, they’d cut it off and then move in for the kill.
The second one raised his blade. “Stand down or we will kill you.”
“Try,” I dared. It was rather brazen and probably very stupid of me to say that.
That was when they both converged on my position. I dropped, avoiding their attacks that were aimed at more vital areas and darted between them as their swords slammed the wall. One’s clattered to the ground- the other retained control.
I jumped, swinging my wrists under my feet so that my hands were tied in front of me instead of behind. The one who still had a sword swung at me with an overhand attack. I blocked with my bonds and he sliced right through them.
“Thanks,” I said, and sprinted out the door.
Dogs have a very good sense of direction, and, thankfully, so did I. It only took me a moment to figure out which way I was going and then off I went as fast as my legs could carry me.
I had two options: run or fight. If I ran, I left the innocent humans to face the Pack, which I knew full well was after me. If I fought, it was suicide. I turned to go towards the back exit- this was a good time to take Ari’s advice and take a run for it.
Something stopped me. I felt the guilt gnawing at me already. Could I really just leave them?
Damn my conscience! I spun and ran down the passageway to a side exit. They had many exits in these jails, because things like the Pack attacking happened far too often. They needed to get the guards out.
I charged down the corridor and skidded through the door, tearing down a sidestreet. The wolves’ song had stopped. Now to wait.
Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. It was only about three minutes before I saw the hunting party step out from the alleyways and corners. Humans turned wolf before my eyes, approaching the prison. The Hunters were already there.
I didn’t have time to ponder how the Hunters had worked out where to go. The wolves charged, tearing through the Hunters’ ranks with ferocity.
This was my last chance to run.
No. The innocent would survive!
I scrambled up a wall to the top of a thatch-roofed hut. “Hey!” I screamed at the wolves they froze, realizing that their target was not where she was supposed to be. “You! Yeah, you! Y’ wanna piece o’ me, t’e Harbinger o’ Death? Huh? T’en come ’n get it, y’ ground-licking, cowardly, deer-sired, newborn whelps!”

The hunting party turned and happily took me up on the invitation when what I was doing finally hit me. A dozen horse-sized beasts with fangs longer than my finger, and in some cases my forearm, that wanted nothing more than to exterminate me. I spun and ran for my life, vaulting from roof to roof through the town.
This was insane. I shouldn’t have done this.
No. They would survive!
There was a werewolf on my tail. I could hear it gaining as it sprinted after me.
I was a fast runner, but even I couldn’t rival the speed of a werewolf. I could hold out only another few minutes, not much longer.
Or I would have been able to. I felt my toe catch on something — a loose shingle, probably — and fell face first towards the ground. I grabbed the edge of the house, my fingers slipping on the smooth surface. The wolves were gathering beneath me, milling under my feet as I dangled precariously from the roof.
The lycanthrope that had been chasing me from roof to roof skidded to a stop above me. “Ground-licking, cowardly, deer-sired, newborn puppies, are we?” he snarled.
I didn’t answer, more focused on not falling than exchanging banter with him.
“Now the question becomes not will you die, but how painfully, yes?” I could smell his carrion-ridden breath.
“If I die, you’re coming with me, puppy,” I growled.
The innocent would survive!
“Am I now?” The bastard flicked the shingle under my left hand, sending it spiraling to the ground.
“Sure as hell.” I swung my left hand back up to grab onto the roof, but he slammed his paw down in the only place I could securely grasp.
My fingers were slipping — I didn’t have much longer.
I was going to die. I was finally going to die, after I’d been fighting for so long only to survive.
But the innocent would survive.
My hold fell as I knew it eventually would, sending me dropping through the air.
They didn’t even wait for me to hit the ground. A dire wolf pounced and intercepted me mid-flight, pinning me to the earth and going for my throat.
He toppled to the side, a cougar just as big as he on top of him. The cat yowled and sliced its adversary’s throat, then fell back to stand between me and the wolves. Was it protecting me?
A bit surprised at my sudden alliance with the creature, the pack retreated a ways, keeping their distance as they figured out a plan. It didn’t take them long to decide no matter what the risk, I needed to be killed. They charged all at once- no way out now.
A roar pierced the cacophony of wolf howls as a silver dragon about the size of a large horse flew in, slamming into a wolf and dispatching it in one smooth movement. It let out another thundering cry as it opened its maw and breathed not fire as one might expect, but thousands of silver shards.
What the hell was going on?
The two creatures leapt into melee combat as the wolves charged. Despite their efforts, there were only two of them and at least a dozen enemies. They couldn’t defend against them all.
Another dire wolf lunged at me, his fangs falling inches short of my face as I dodged. Weaponless, I knew I stood no chance- but I sure as hell was going to try. As the beast turned and leapt again, I darted to the side and grabbed his fur. In one smooth movement, I vaulted onto the canine’s back. It yowled and spun around, trying to bite me. Because of where I’d seated myself, the thing couldn’t actually reach me. It slammed me into a wall in an effort to dislodge me — I needed to figure something out, and fast.
My heart beat a million miles an hour…..fear took hold over my heart…..color disappeared from the world….
The Hunters had come to aid us. I knew this when I found myself standing among the dead wolves and soldiers in front of Inialos and a green-blue eyed man with dark blond hair. Behind them was a squadron of lower-ranking Hunters, aiding their wounded and recovering their weapons.
“Told you so,” Inialos said to the blond man.
“I never said you were incorrect,” the latter answered. “Although Evelyn will be rather irritated.”
Inialos came over to me, giving me a hand up. Normally I would have refused simply out of contempt, but by that point I was so shaken from all the events of that day I just accepted his help.
“You all right?” he asked me.
Wordlessly I nodded.
“Have you considered my offer?”
 “Offer?” The second man asked.
“Are you really so surprised, Cougar?” Inialos asked him.
“No, but Evelyn’s going to have a fit.”
 The Dragon shrugged. “Evelyn will live.” He turned back to me. “At any rate, are you going to come with us or not?”
My loyalty was with the Guild. It always had been. But now….Well, Lynx had lost my devotion. Ari and Felicia were the only ones who still had my allegiance, but I was sure that they’d escaped, and wasn’t it Ari himself who’d told me it was every person for themself?
I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the Hunters, I didn’t like the law. But it was that or die, and at this point, I’d fought to long to live to let life go simply because I followed a shattered pack with a leader who hadn’t any devotion to any of its members anyways.
And maybe, just maybe, I could have a new beginning.
“I’ll take yer offer,” I finally decided.
I would survive.
——————————————————-
So I found myself standing in the line of newbloods on our first day. Oh goodie, I got to join the Hunters. Yay.
There were perhaps forty of us from across the Plains, fidgeting and shifting and murmuring nervously. Ugh. What had I gotten myself into? Why hadn’t I just run when I had the chance?
But where would I have run? Straight into the wolves?
I threw my dagger into the dirt with such ferocity that it sank all the way to its hilt. I yanked it out of the soil and toyed with the glinting blade now dulled with a layer of dust. I’d changed my name, too, thinking that walking into a Hunter hold with a wolf name maybe wasn’t the best idea. I couldn’t quite get rid of my accent, but it was mostly gone, so I didn’t think most people would notice. Well, that’s what I hoped, anyways.
No longer was I Agrona, the Harbinger of Death. Now I was Tasha. Tasha Hunter. It was a relatively common human name and I didn’t want to stand out. That was why I’d chosen it.
We’d been kept waiting for the better part of an hour before the Guard Dog finally made her appearance. I didn’t know why she was there instead of the Cougar, but I didn’t really care.
“You call that attention?!” she snapped. “Well, it’s not! Show some proper respect!”
We all snapped to attention, me a bit more slowly than the others.
“So,” she said. “You’re the new batch of recruits.”
No, we were just the random citizens who decided to drop by. Didn’t that happen every day?
“Can’t say you look like much, but I suppose you’ll have to do. Not like we get enough recruits these days. At any rate, I guess now is when I brief you on what the next several years - if not the rest - of your life will look like.
“We’re much more than werewolf hunters. If you’re here to kill werewolves, you’ve come to the right place, but we double as light cavalry for the King’s army, law enforcement, and we deal with supernatural threats beyond those of the wolves- vampires and demons to name a few. There are three qualities which we are known for: equality, chivalry, and loyalty. This means you are expected to follow an honor code and you’re expected to treat anyone of your rank as an equal, regardless of whether you’re from a noble family or an orphan from the slums. Don’t like that, go now.
“The honor code is pretty straightforward: don’t be dishonest, keep your word, so on and so forth. Basically be a good person.
“Despite our many talents we have one primary goal: protect the innocent. We will fight, we will work, we will die for them- that is what we are and why we are. The Pack kills them as prey. We protect them.
“Moving on from our mission. Let me inform you about the rank system. There are seven ranks with seventh rank being you newbloods and first rank being myself, the Cougar, or the Dragon. Sixth ranks command squadrons of puppies; fifth ranks command companies that have multiple squadrons; fourth ranks lead battalions made of companies; third ranks lead legions of companies; second ranks lead armies of legions; and first ranks lead everything.
“As you know but I’m forced to tell you because of damn regulations, there are three leaders of the Hunters- me, Kolvar, and Inialos. I’m the Guard Dog, representing protection; Kolvar is the Cougar, representing leadership; and Inialos is the Dragon, for ferocity.
“You are expected to follow any and all orders from a superior officer- no ands ifs or buts. Don’t and you’ll find yourself in quite the predicament.
“Each of you will be assigned to a group of ten. You’ll be attending classes with your group to learn the basics. After your first year- if you pass the test- you’ll become an actual Hunter as opposed to a trainee. You’ll be assigned to a squadron and start earning your keep and get a dog to hunt with you. Beyond that, if you show you’re capable and ready, you’ll slowly work your way through the ranks. Some of you may even become a first rank, though by the looks of you its doubtful.”
The woman’s dog stared up at her. “Now that wasn’t very nice,” he growled up to her in Wolf.
Great. So now the dogs talked.
Evelyn ignored him and continued with her lecture, oblivious to my incredulous look. “Any questions?”
No one said a word.
“Good. As I say your name step forward. Oh, I forgot to mention- we do this by first name and middle name- if possible- not last. You’ll get your last name tacked on if there’s more than one of you with the same first name.
“Tanithal, Connak, Cameron, Alosrin, Sandevv, Ennan, Ethan, Keya, and Aila.”
The listed trainees stepped forward as a male Hunter approached. He was definitely a Northerner, with red hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He introduced himself as Ian, a second year seventh rank, and led the group towards the barracks.
She continued through the second list and the process was repeated. I tuned her out as I took in my surroundings more closely than before. The hold consisted of a large tower surrounded by tall stone wall and huge metal-reinforced wooden gates. There were spikes on the sides of the walls pointing downwards to ward off any wolves attempting to climb the structure and there were several archer towers within the walls. Besides that, there were stables, forges, a kennel, barracks, and supply buildings for surplus that couldn’t be stored beneath the tower. They’d left room to bring in evacuating citizens from Akaron or nearby villages as well.
“Tasha!” It took me a moment to realize she was addressing me. Inwardly cursing my new name, I hurried to join the group. Most of them were humans, indigenous to the plains as was obvious by their lightish brown complexions. There were a few halflings and gnomes from the desert, who’s skin was even darker than those from the plains, and one human who seemed to be half Plainsmen half Iiedoran. He had paler skin than most, with dark blonde hair and brown eyes.
The second-year that was to show us the ropes seemed to be the half-Northern boy’s brother- I could tell by scent. He had distinctly more Iiedoran blood, showing through his blonde hair and blue eyes. Despite this, however, his build still looked considerable more indigenous.
“I’m Scē,” the second-year told us. “I’ll be showing you the ropes. You have questions, you can come to me. I’m here to help. However, I’m also in charge. You are expected to follow my orders and my rules. I’ll tell you more about the former-”
“Latter,” his brother interrupted, earning a deathly glare from the elder of the two.
“Latter,” he corrected. “When we get to the barracks. Any questions?”
Only silence answered him.
He proceeded to lead the way to the barracks, pointing out various buildings as we passed them- the stables, the kennel, the forges, the armory, so on and so forth.
The barracks themselves consisted of several sets of sturdy wooden bunk beds, a door, and walls. I threw my bag that contained what little I possessed up onto one of the top bunks as Scē started talking.
“Go ahead and get yourself a bed while I fill you in on the rules. They’re pretty basic- follow my orders, stay out of fights, and keep your stuff to your bunk. Classes start with the second bell. You’ll assemble here in right before breakfast, which is the first bell. I expect you to be in uniform -and that means a clean uniform- and presentable. None of that rumpled, stained, uniform kekh. Does anyone need clarification?”
Evidently we weren’t the most inquisitive bunch.
“You can find me just down the hallway where I’ll be with the other second-years. You can have the rest of today off except for getting your equipment. Stop by the armory for your uniform and weapons. You’re free to explore, just don’t get yourselves in trouble. Oh, when you assemble, just be in uniform and at attention in front of your bunk and next to your bunkmate.” With those words, Scē disappeared out the door, leaving us to figure things out ourselves.
The Northern boy took the bunk beneath me, but I didn’t really pay much attention. First things first: get equipment. Then I’d bother with the others in my class.
Leaving my bag, I returned to the outdoors. I was glad I hadn’t been forced to say anything- I didn’t want to speak much lest my accent be noticed.
Things were rather lively, with soldiers and workers moving to and fro with horses or supplies or weapons or messages. It took a bit of dodging that I probably wouldn’t have been able to pull off had I not spent those vital years with the Guild, but eventually I managed to get to the armory. Being in the second-to-last group to be assigned, there was already a very large line. Sighing, I got in the back of it.
The sky was pure blue without a cloud to mar it. The sun was reaching its zenith, leaving me baking in its heat without any shade to go to. Cursing the plains under my breath, I stepped to the front of the line. The Hunter who was at the desk with boxes of uniforms about them looked up at me, sized me up, grabbed a uniform, shoved it at me, and then waved me off towards the smith who was handing out weapons, all the while without saying a single word.
Without hesitation I went over to the smith. He, too, sized me up.
“What weapon d’ y’ prefer? After trainin’, you’ll get your permanent weapon. This’ll just be yer primary weapon temporarily.”
I was best in hand-to-hand combat, but after that it was melee. So either daggers or a sword and a dagger. The latter gave me more reach, but less maneuverability. Also, I hadn’t used a sword before. Daggers were something I knew well and that I could hide.
“Daggers,” I answered. “Melee, not t’e throwin’ type. Small ‘nough t’ hide, but longer t’an a normal one. If I’m fightin’ swords I need more reach t’an normal. Preferably a straight blade ‘r slightly curved. Iiedoran style if possible.”
“Y’ sure know yer blades t’ere, lass.” He turned and started looking over at one of the weapons racks filled with daggers. “Go ‘head ’n get yourself two. Y’ know what fits y’ best.”
“Yes, sir.” I obeyed. All the weapons were silver-washed and made of good quality steel. I picked up one of the gnomish blades- its balance was extraordinary. The weapons smith was no novice, that was for sure.
I found the Iiedoran knives rather quickly. There wasn’t much of a difference between Iiedoran and Plainsmen style, just the weighting and the proportions to some degree. The former was thinner and longer, made for more precision fighting. However, there was no way one could throw one or use it for anything but combat without much difficulty, where areas the Plainsmen’s blades were much more versatile.
I tested a few until I found the ones I liked. The blades were about the length of my forearm from my elbow to my wrist and no thicker than two of my fingers. Their balance was superb and when I tested the sharpness they drew blood. Perfect.
Grabbing a belt and sheathes for them, I buckled them on and headed back towards the barracks with my uniform.
It’d been one hell of a day.