Young Writers Society

As Hild, Raj, and Robin stepped out to leave, Caspar was just returning with chopped wood in both arms. Sleep wasn't very solid the night prior. And he was fairly awake already by the time James burst into the living room in the early morning, so he figured he may as well better stock them for this first week.

Hild was stiff but sincere as she offered a hug goodbye. Appreciative, Caspar tried to keep it a loose and quick one. He wished them safe travels as the three headed out, back the same direction they just came.

Caspar then carried some of the wood inside in time for breakfast preparations.

Mel and Bo were up, having already seen the trio off. Sleepy-eyed and hair even messier than usual, Lyall was already on his way back to the bedroom.

Lilya zoomed out when he opened the door. He could only wave vaguely and mumble, "She's all yours," as he left the living room.

With about half of their remaining group still asleep (supposedly), Caspar brought Lilya outside with him to check on the horses, since she seemed ready to cause a bit of a ruckus.

Most of that time outside consisted of Lilya simply darting around the trees, talking miles a minute, while Caspar kept and eye on her as he quietly tended to the horses. Eir's head followed Lilya, watching closely too, but she seemed surprisingly unbothered.

Back inside, Lilya (significantly calmer than before) made a beeline for Bo and asked if she could help with breakfast. Bo, holding her steady and aloft, happily let her stir the pot of oatmeal as it cooked on the stove top.

Caspar hung his coat and scarf by the door, then took a seat at the table. Mel joined him, turning her chair towards the heat of the wood stove heating the room. They exchanged "good mornings", but were otherwise content with the quiet of the little house.

Turned to a blank page, Caspar set his sketchbook on the table, but leaned back in his chair and idly tapped his pencil on his leg.

The gentle sounds of the crackling fire, the warmth of the little house, the peaceful company, it was all a familiar comfort. Something he gladly sank into for a moment.

Gradually, though, as the rest of their number awoke for the day, his mind turned to those who couldn't join them for breakfast this time.

After eating, Caspar went to check on James, visit for a little while if he needed. Since there wasn't a chair to spare, he sat on the lower bunk across the way.

He made an idle comment on the weather. Wasn't quite sure how to transition, so just jumped into a horse-related update.

Lying back with an arm and leg hanging off the side of the bed, Caspar stared at the underside of the top bunk for a moment.

"How're you doing today?" he eventually asked, turning sideways to look at James. "So far, anyhow."

James was quiet for a moment as he looked up at the bottom of the bunk above him.

"I'm... trying not to think too much about it," he said.

"That's alright," Caspar said gently.

Another pause.

"What about you?" James asked.

"I'm doing okay," he answered simply.

Mostly trying to not let worries pile up on him too quickly already. It'd only been a few hours since Hild-Raj-Robin had left.

"It's been a fairly low-key morning," Caspar added. "Just, ah, slowly getting a feel for this neck of the woods here. Aside from this house, there's just trees. Sunrise was nice."

There seemed to be quite a bit of startled wildlife around. Caspar wondered when the last time anyone took up residence here.

"I don't think anyone's been here in awhile," he said out loud. "House is in pretty good shape, though."

James hummed quietly in affirmation, but his eyes were still stuck on the bottom of the lower bunk.

"Been a while since I've slept in a real bed," James commented quietly. "At least, before we ran into Lyall."

"And months before that, we got one night at Hild's," Caspar said with a nod. "Seems to be the prevailing pattern."

"We'll be here a while," James said. "At least a few days, right?"

"At least," Caspar confirmed.

Two weeks at most.

"Hopefully I can be back on my feet more," James said quietly. "Since we won't be traveling constantly."

Caspar had actually asked Lyall at some point about the recovery plan for James. The gist of it was that reintroduction to things such as physical activity and food was to be gradual.

"You will be, I'm sure," Caspar said. "Within limits, probably, but walking around more should be a...reasonable first step."

James let out a huff of air through his nose, but his expression looked pained shortly after. Caspar mustered a small, fleeting grin, and tried to keep from looking too worried.

"I think... I'm still feeling the consequences of last night," James said faintly.

Ah, yeah. From what sounded like falling into the door, and then tripping over Bo.

"It's just--" James started. "Nightmares."

He turned his face away from Caspar, though the rest of him stayed still, laid out on the bed.

"They've just been getting worse," he said.

Caspar hated to think of the horrors James was reliving in his subconscious. Nightly, and leaving him afraid and disoriented when he finally woke.

"I'm really sorry about that," Caspar said quietly.

"I just wish it didn't end up affecting everyone else," James said softly.

"We understand-- I mean, well. You know," Caspar tried reassuring him. "It's okay."

"Did you get any sleep?" James asked instead. "At all?"

"I did."

A beat of silence.

"How much?" James clarified.

Caspar hesitated. "A...couple hours, at least," he mumbled.

James let out a sigh, but otherwise, didn't say anything.

"I'm alright, though," Caspar added. "And. Lyall or someone will probably make me take a nap sometime soon."

"He'll probably make me nap too," James said with a sigh in his voice. "I just... for as much as I've slept, I really don't feel like I've slept at all. I keep waking up, and when I do finally manage to sleep deeply, it ends with... you know."

Caspar nodded and said softly, "I know. If there was some way to help..."

A way to just give him a reprieve. If he could maybe even take James's place somehow, just so he could have some peace, Caspar would take it without a second thought.

"I know there's not much you can do," James said quietly. "I appreciate you listening."

Tilting his head to face him, Caspar gave a small smile and said, "Anytime."

Another beat of quiet, and Caspar looked skyward again as they now simply lied with each other's company.

It was a vaguely familiar arrangement.

Afternoon rolled by without much fuss.

Though, per their predictions, it was insisted upon that Caspar at least rest a little bit until dinner. A situation he tried talking his way out of, but he really didn't have any compelling points as to why he shouldn't. And it was hard to argue for long when Bo was being so amicable and reasonable about it all.

And Cy offered to keep him company, perhaps read a book for him, which Caspar didn't have the heart to decline. He did, regrettably, fall asleep before the raven finally found its wolf friend, and slept right through dinner.

It was a too-deep sleep that left him feeling more bleary-eyed than rested, and he had to consciously remind himself it's probably better in the long run. The necessity of sleep and whatnot.

Lyall had already tucked the girls in for the night, came back into the living room to offer a cryptic compliment on Caspar's hair, then turned in early himself.

Blindly feeling around his own head, Caspar's fingers caught on what at first felt like a big tangle. From the table with a book in hand, Mel kindly clarified with an amused smile that Lilya took the liberty of braiding some of his hair while he slept.

Out of a sense of obligation, Caspar opted to just leave it as he took a seat beside Mel.

"I think it looks nice," Mel offerd warmly. "It suits you, actually."

Face and ears burning, he mumbled a "thank you" at the table, and then awkwardly added, "You look nice, too. Um--" He gestured to her, head to toe. "--In general. All of you, per the norm."

Mel blinked at him for a second, and then her smile grew brighter - a mix between genuine delight and bashfulness as she looked to the side with a small laugh.

"Thanks, Cas," she said. "I do try."

He wanted to insist that she looked lovely, that she was lovely, if only so that'd she'd smile like that again, because her smile was wonderful and sometimes made his chest feel weird, but a good kind of weird. He couldn't muster anything cohesive, though, and decided it was best he didn't inevitably devolve into rambling nonsense anyway.

"You must've been sleeping pretty soundly to not feel Lilya braiding your hair," Mel commented. "That's a good sign!"

"Uh, yeah," he managed. "Yes, it was good."

"I can tell Lilya to leave your hair alone, though," Mel said. "So she doesn't risk waking you. None of us saw her do that. She has a way of being sneaky when she wants to be."

Caspar smiled a little. "S'fine, she's okay." He shrugged. "I'll just let her know she can do it while I'm awake instead."

"Careful," Mel said. "You may end up having a lot of people in line wanting to do your hair if you open that door."

"Oh." He nodded, slightly unsure of how to feel about that. "I'll extend the offer to her in secret, then."

There was a covered bowl of still-warm vegetable soup waiting on the table between them.

"This is yours, by the way," Mel said, nudging it across the table to him. "We let you sleep in."

With a faint grin and nod, Caspar pulled the bowl closer to himself. "Thanks."

Another recurring pattern, it seemed.

"Anything of note happen while I was asleep?" he asked, then began eating.

Mel looked off to the side in thought. It seemed like she was weighing options in her mind of what to start with.

"Bo discovered a tree slug and had fun showing it to the girls," Mel said. "Lilya was thrilled. Cy, not so much. I didn't mind it so long as he kept it away from me."

Caspar felt himself smile as he tried imaging the scene. "Were you able to identify what kind it was? Or that it was just a slug."

"To be completely honest with you, Caspar," Mel said, leaning an elbow on the table as she put her chin in her palm. "I didn't give it that close of a look. Lilya said it was big and slimy, and I think it was green, maybe. Why, are you a slug expert?"

He shrugged and glanced down at the soup. "Not really. I was just curious."

"Fair," Mel hummed, still holding her chin as she looked at him. "You also missed Lyall and the girls putting on a little show. Directed by none other than Cy. They were reenacting the story of the Archer and the Hound. A new take on an old classic. Lyall was the archer, of course, and Lilya was the hound."

"Wow," he murmured, grin broadening. "Shame I missed it."

"We kept busy," Mel said. "But I'm sure there will be more fun little activities to come. Bo and Lyall always get creative with entertaining the girls, and I'm just happy to tag along and be a part of it."

Caspar looked up from his now-empty bowl. "Did you take part in their production?"

"I did get dragged in to being the werewolf," she said with a laugh. "Cy's rendition of the story had it ending with my character and the archer becoming best friends and running off together with the hound as well. Lilya kept trying to give me tips on how to act out a convincing wolf-like performance."

Caspar laughed. "With her guidance, it was probably very convincing. One of those animal hats would've helped with the costume design, too."

"Robin probably wouldn't be impressed," Mel said with a small laugh. "But he's not here to critique me, so I think I'll be fine. I gave it a good effort, but I'm not an actress. Lyall, though, I'm surprised he didn't go into entertainment instead of doctoring."

With a solemn nod, Caspar agreed, "He missed his true calling."

"Seems so," Mel said with a small smile. "Though there's nothing wrong with having a diverse skillset. Funny doctors are needed, I think. He has good people skills when he wants to."

"When he wants to," Caspar echoed, huffing a laugh. "He and his siblings are like that. More often than not, though, they're great in social situations."

"From what I know of Lyall and his upbringing, that's just as much personality as it was the environment he grew up in that encouraged it," she said. "I know all of my siblings and I were similar, having an entertainer as a father. Raj, though... well, I suppose you haven't seen him in that sort of environment. He's pretty consistent, though. But on the rarest occasions, he has these... bursts of social energy. I'm not sure what precedes it."

Caspar nodded. "I can see that, yeah."

"I feel like I always end up in the middle," Mel said with a small pout. "There's a reason Raj used to call me Mel-low. He only stopped because I got sick of the nickname."

Biting back a smile this time, Caspar offered, "Middle's a good place to be. I think you're great, anyway."

Heat rushed to his face and he awkwardly glanced off as he was struck by his own forwardness.

"Likewise, Cas," Mel said softly with a small, fond smile.

He managed a uneven grin in turn and a quiet, "Thanks."

"Did you enjoy the soup?" Mel asked, looking down at his already long-since empty bowl.

"Yes," he answered, glancing down likewise, "it was fantastic."

Taking his bowl in both hands, he made to stand, but paused. Meeting Mel's eyes once more, Caspar said, "Thanks for waiting up. Again. I appreciate your company."

"Of course," Mel said. "I don't mind at all. I'm not really tired just yet anyhow. I assume you're somewhat awake at least after your nap."

Caspar nodded. "I'll probably be up for a bit, yeah." He drummed his fingers on the edges of the bowl. "Would you care for a quick card game, then?"

"Oh, so you want a rematch after all this time?" Mel asked with a smirk. "Let's do it."

She reached down into one of the nearby boxes, pulling out a stack of cards that had evidently been used semi-recently to have been close by. She started shuffling over the table.

While she set up, Caspar stood, then paused again when he noticed Bo, with a book in hand, was also still with them. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall as quietly flipped the pages.

"Oh," Caspar said quietly. "Hi."

Bo looked up.

"Hi," Bo said with a small smile.

Nodding sideways toward Mel, Caspar asked, "Want to join?"

"Sure," Bo said, closing the book as he got to his feet. "Are you guys going to play rummy again?"

"That's the plan," Mel said as she started to set out the cards in three sets.

"Well, I'll give it my best," Bo said with a small sigh as he took the chair across from Mel and sat down heavily. Caspar noticed it was the chair with the funky leg, because it wobbled under his weight, but Bo seemed unperturbed by it.

After washing out his bowl and checking the woodstove, Caspar took the remaining seat and began planning potential solutions for Bo's wobbly chair.

The cards were dealt, and the game initiated. It stayed a rather friendly match between the three of them. Predictably, Mel won all three rounds. She looked like she was trying very hard not to smile too smugly, but was definitely revelling in her victory as she shuffled the cards again.

"Are you boys up for round four?" she asked.

Bo let out a quiet laugh as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think I'm fading a bit," he said. "My brain isn't able to think anymore."

"Good time as any to turn in, then." Caspar gave Bo's shoulder a pat and added, "Rest well."

"I'll just be over there," Bo said with a tired laugh, pointing to a spot on the floor where his sleep sack was rolled up. "But as long as you're not yelling, you two can keep it going if you want. I sleep pretty soundly."

"I don't think we'll be getting too loud," Mel said. "And if we do, let us know."

Bo nodded and got to his feet. He only walked a few long steps before he crossed the room and flung out his blanket on the floor. Lying down, he pulled the blanket over himself and pulled another one to bunch up under his head as a pillow. He turned away from them on his side.

"Night," he said quietly.

"Sleep tight," Caspar murmured.

Mel had her attention back on him, and slid another stack of cards to him.

"Ready?" she asked.

Caspar huffed a laugh, endeared by her eagerness, and took up his hand. "Since you are, yeah."

Mel grinned.

"Let's see about that," she said, and then played the first card.

And, by what he could only assume was an incredible stroke of luck, Caspar finally managed a win. Mel graciously conceded his victory, and added that she legitimately had a bad hand this round.

Whatever the reason, he gladly took it.

Eventually, he gently suggested that she turn in too. Though she seemed like she could've kept playing, she didn't fight it.

"We'll have plenty of time to play another time," she said simply, pushing out the chair carefully to not make noise. "Who knows, maybe you'll just keep getting better at this as we play more."

Caspar shrugged with a small smile. "That's the hope."

She stood up and returned the smile briefly, and as she moved to walk past him, she paused, setting her hand on his shoulder.

"Now you get some rest as well," she said. "Alright?"

With a small sigh, Caspar nodded and mumbled, "I guess that's fair."

"No arguments this time?" Mel teased.

He raised both hands in surrender. "No arguments," he echoed.

Mel smiled warmly.

"Sleep well, Cas," she said as she pulled away, and disappeared into the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind her.

"G'night," he murmured, more to the room now than anything.

For a few silent moments, Caspar found himself already mentally playing back some of their conversations from the night. He tried parsing through his thoughts and emotions, but didn't find anything in a completely coherent state.

Shaking himself out of his own head, he quietly checked the woodstove once more. Then quickly looked over the windows and front door, because no one said anything specifically about not checking on things before sleep. He ran out of things to check, and sufficient firelight by which to perhaps draw, and so reclaimed his spot on the living room floor.

It had been one day since Hild, Raj, and Robin left for King's Peak.

James spent most of it in bed. Lyall had someone keeping an eye on him practically at all times. If ever he didn't, it was only when James was asleep.

He was eating solid foods again, if soups with solids counted. There was a conflict of interests in his mind and in his digestive system, but stomach pains and unpleasanr bowel movements aside, it was helping he regain some strength.

He got to walk around a little bit within the cottage, and at least step outside to sit in the sun. It might've only been an hour before he needed to lie down again due to the levels of pain he was in, but he was glad to not be stuck in the room all day.

Lyall, however, was convinced he should stay lying down for longer if moving pained him so much.

What Lyall didn't understand was that James was used to things hurting. All of the time. He couldn't remember what it felt like to not be in pain in some way, and it had been that way for some years.

He knew however, if he expressed that out loud, that it would only make Lyall more concerned. So he decided to simply follow Lyall's instructions.

At least, he tried to.

Another day came and went, as uneventful as the first. He managed two meals, bigger than the day prior, and he kept it down. That was an accomplishment. He was permitted to move a little more, but when Lyall realized James was pushing himself "too much" he was forced to go rest.

Often bedridden, not wanting to sleep because of the nightmares and with little to distract his mind, he found himself simply reading.

And rereading. And rereading.

Cy would often join him, and they would read together. Sometimes Lilya would join, and he'd listen to her read aloud, and help her along when needed. Sometimes Cy would read him a story and then steer from the text, telling a story of her own instead.

The latter was his favorite, because Cy permitted it him to participate as well. Be it with questions or suggestions.

Sometimes Bo, Mel, Cas, or Lyall would come in and just sit with him. Bo, Mel, and Lyall would usually talk, but Caspar often would simply be with him, sharing space in the same room as he drew or practiced reading himself.

Four days had passed, and James felt a difference, at least in his stomach. He was starting to eat more, and it was giving him more energy to stay awake more. His body still hurt, but he could feel the turning point was soon around the corner. At least, for his physical frame.

He couldn't say the same for his mind.

While his body was getting better, his dreams were only getting more intense. Every time he laid down it only got worse. He was sleeping less and less, and waking up in fits, inconsolable. Lyall kept telling him he needed sleep to recover, but it wasn't like he wasn't trying.

He just kept reliving everything every time he closed his eyes. And he felt more and more guilty as his nightmares spilled over into real life, stealing other people's sleep and peace.

It was the sixth night, and he laid in bed, too afraid to sleep.

Stubbornly, he was trying to put it off as long as he could so that everyone could get as much sleep as possible. It helped for him to focus on his physical pain, because it kept him from being able to relax enough to slip off into sleep.

But by the time the sunrise started to spill into the room, his will was weakening.

His ability to focus on anything was entirely gone. Exhaustion hurled down on him like a heavy blanket, and his eyes slowly started to close. Finally, he let them shut, thinking that it was only for a moment.

But that was the last thing he remembered before sleep overtook him.

He remembered that whenever he drifted off, he would always be interrupted. This time it was by the scraping of metal across stone. A heavy door pushed away, and a beam of light flashed into his eyes.

Aaron's clammy hands prodded at him. Inspected him. Incoherent mutterings were like garbled words, hidden behind a filter of water in his ears. Over and over again he was simply poked at like a piece of meat, and he couldn't move. He was just stuck to the stone slab, at Aaron's mercy.

"This time," Aaron said, his voicd finally cutting through. "Carter said to finish the job."

James heard the shing of metal against metal. He was sharpening something.

"Said you didn't deserve public recognition after your little dissapearing act," Aaron went on. "That an audience was too good for you. Said you deserve to die where no one will remember you. Just you, and me, and these four walls."

Desparation welled up in James's chest as Aaron's words started to sink in. He pulled agains the restraints, even though he knew that he knew it would be useless. What was the point? He couldn't get out even if he tried. He was never able to save himself. Not even for himself.

Despite himself, tears started coming to his eyes. Any sense of pride he'd once had was shattered.

He was weeping. Weeping as Aaron came closer, and his shadow hung over him.

"Say your last goodbye--"

"James!"

It wasn't Aaron's voice.

It came again.

"James, sun's up!"

There was a touch on his shoulder, but it felt wrong. The scene around him started to shake and crumble. He was hearing Lyall's voice.

A rush of panic shot through him.

He jumped up, but what really happened was he bounced up, floundered, and then fell back down. He registered someone next to him, and still thinking it was Aaron, he pushed him away with all the strength he could muster.

However, at that moment, he was finally able to register where he was.

In a bed.

In the cottage.

That didn't change the fact that his heart was still racing, and the fear still felt very real. His head was spinning, and when he looked to the side, he saw three Lyalls where one should've been.

"Hey, you with us now?" Lyall asked, flashing a quick smile.

James woozily lowered himself back down into the bed. The world needed to stop spinning first. It was making him feel sick.

"Mm," he vocalized from the back of his throat. In his head, he'd said yes. What came out was that, followed by a low groan.

"Great! Welcome back."

Jamed turned to look at Lyall again.

There were two of him. Well, one and a half of him. He was slowly coming into focus again.

James blinked slowly.

"Wha' time is it?" he mumbled, slurring his words a little. The sun was bright in the room.

"About 8-ish," Lyall answered, then stepped closer and set something on the bed beside James. "Here, these seem to usually help."

He knew without looking that they were his glasses.

Reach over, he picked them up as carefully as he could manage with his sloppy, still half-awake movements, and he set them on his nose. When they were secure, he looked to Lyall again, and he was, indeed, clearer and more detailed than before.

Lyall's back was turned for the moment as he pulled over a closed-up crate. He perched on top of it, facing James, and with his legs drawn up and crossed.

"You seem... awake," James said. His voice was lower than usual and sounded almost hoarse.

Lyall grinned slightly. "Can't quite say the same for you, though." His smile then faded as he asked, "When did you let yourself actually sleep?"

James squinted over at the window. It was so bright. Just one glance felt like it was blinding.

"Sometime around sunrise," he muttered.

Lyall tilted his head a little. "Why did you wait so long?"

James squinted at him.

Even the sun behind him was bright.

"I... wanted to let you sleep," he said quieter.

Lyall nodded slowly. "I appreciate the sentiment, James," he said gently, "but it's ultimately counter-productive for your long-term recovery."

James knew he was right. He didn't like that he was right. He didn't have the energy to argue with him, either.

"Okay," he said lamely, barely audible.

"I know it's difficult," Lyall went on, "so we'll just try our best to aim for a more regular sleep schedule, and not worry too much if we can't quite hit the mark every time."

"Alright," James said again in a quiet affirmative, but in truth, he hadn't fully been listening. His mind had started to drift, and the first thing that came back to mind was Aaron.

He closed his eyes tightly, just for a moment, trying to get him out of his head.

It didn't work. He just lingered there, like an uncomfortable shadow.

"Alright," he said again, only remembering he'd already said so once it was too late to stop speaking.

Lyall just sat quietly for a moment. James let the moment drag on. He couldn't think of a single thing to say to fill the silence that, at least on his end, was riddled with tension. The tension, however, had nothing to do with Lyall.

"It'll get better," Lyall eventually murmured, a little tentative.

"I don't know what better looks like," James found himself saying, realizing at this point of exhaustion, that his filter was nearly gone.

With a solemn smile, Lyall shrugged as he idly picked at the wood of the crate. "I know. And. I won't pretend to fully understand what you're facing, but what I can say for sure is that you're making progress. You're getting stronger again, actively striving for it, and you've got friends supporting you. We don't know exactly what better looks like and when that'll come, but I think this is a solid start."

James hummed faintly. Right. It was a start. Because all starts were small, and sometimes painfully so. But he knew if he refused to believe that it could ever get better - that he could ever get better - he never would. Of all the things he'd been through, he knew that one of the few things that had pulled him through was his stubborn will to survive.

If he couldn't find a reason to live for himself, he'd always looked to the people in front of him first. If there was no one in front of him, he always looked back to the people behind him. To all the people who helped him in the past.

He was surviving for them. So that they could rest in peace knowing it wasn't worthless.

He was surviving for his father. So that he could rest in peace knowing it wasn't worthless.

But he knew that there were always two desires constantly opposing one another in his heart. He wanted to survive for the sake of the ones he loved, but there was still a piece of him that wanted to die for them too. Logically, he knew it wasn't even necessary, but when push came to shove, and trouble came... even when he wasn't trying, somehow he always ended up in trouble.

Except this time, it wasn't on anyone's behalf. It was his own past that finally caught up to him.

The thought seemed to uncomfortably bring him back to the present when he remembered again where Hild was. Where Raj, and Robin were, because of him. The sheer anxiety of the thought made him feel sick.

So much for progress. He didn't think he'd be keeping anything down with the nausea hitting him.

He turned to look at Lyall, now desperate for a distraction after spending too much time in his own head - and the truth was, he was spending a lot of time in his own head. Often when the others thought he was sleeping, he wasn't, even if his eyes were closed.

"You know, Lyall," James said, trying to form his thoughts into words despite his mind feeling like a foggy marsh. "I know a lot about Hild, but I don't really know that much about you. Most of what I know about you I learned from others, or experience."

He didn't know where he was going with that. He didn't know if he was even making sense.

Tilting his head sideways, there was a hint of a grin on Lyall's face. "That part's actually mutual. Anything in particular you want to know about? This could be a sort of exchange of information, if you'd like. Nothing, ah, formal like an interrogation. Like a trade of...something, I wouldn't say secrets exactly, this isn't some adolescent's slumber party or anything."

James blinked. One, he hadn't quite expected that as Lyall's response, and two, he frankly didn't have any questions in mind. His head was still so murky he found himself suddenly frantically clearing away the fog of sleep deprivation and nightmares as much as he could just to think of something normal. He didn't trust himself to not ask something completely strange, or simply inane.

Apparently, he took too long to think of something, because Lyall answered before he said a word.

"Oh! Here's something," Lyall said, grin broadening. "For a time, even as I began apprenticing under our mother, I wanted to be an acrobat. Preferably with a band of the merry traveling type. Seemed a thrilling way to get around, see sights. Hild of course scoffed at the idea, but I think that was more for show than anything."

James let out a small huff through his nose. Not a laugh, but a weary expression of genuine interest and as much surprise as he could show outwardly.

"Did you ever have any aptitude for it?" James asked. "Or was it only a dream?"

"I practiced. As well as I could without any professional instruction, anyhow. Looking back, it probably wasn't great, but I'm fairly agile." Lyall shrugged with both hands. "Ultimately didn't pan out. Work quickly took up most of my time once I was folded into the family business."

"I suppose there aren't many acrobatic doctors in the world," James said.

Lyall folded his hands over his drawn up knee and rested his chin on them. "Alas, someone else will have to be the first."

"A shame," James said with what he hoped was something of a smile.

"And what of you?" Lyall asked. "Any slightly ridiculous childhood dreams that you recall fondly?"

James took in a deep breath and looked up in thought, staring at the top bunk above him.

"This may surprise you," he said. "But when I was very young, I wanted nothing more than to be a farmer. Though I wouldn't consider it a ridiculous dream, I do recall it fondly."

Lyall's grin softened as he agreed, "Not ridiculous in any way."

"I wanted to be a potato farmer, specifically, though not exclusively," James said. "But if that didn't work out, I wanted to give dairy farming a try."

"Though it didn't sound like it was a dairy business, did ranching scratch that itch a little?"

James hummed.

"A little," he said. "It was nice being outdoors. The rolling plains. The cattle. The horses. The simplicity of it all."

Lyall nodded, glancing off in thought. "I can see why Cas went for it," he said quietly.

"It was quiet," James said. "Most of the time."

He turned his head back to look at Lyall more directly.

"I know you're not as fond of animals," he said.

"I prefer them at a comfortable distance," Lyall said with a nod and close-lipped smile.

"This mode of travel must be uncomfortable for you," James said. "Being surrounded by so many horses, and all."

Lyall snorted. "You're telling me. Thankfully I don't have to actually ride one. I heartell Elliot's been a good, long-time companion of yours, though, so." He gestured vaguely, as though that finished the thought.

"Does that mean... you tolerate him?" James asked. "Or..."

"I'm...better adjusted to horses now from all this traipsing about Nye," Lyall said simply, then shrugged. "I don't dislike him."

"That's good enough for me," James said. "Though if you didn't like him, I wouldn't hold anything against you for it."

"A relief," Lyall said with a grin. "So, did you..." He steepled his hands under his chin in thought. "...start out on a potato farm? Is that where that dream stemmed from? Any extended family with a potato farm? A friend, neighbor...?"

James realized the extent of information James had neglected to share with Lyall. Or anyone besides Hild or Cas, for that matter. Everyone besides Hild and Cas really only knew minimal information about him personally, apart from what pertained to their current situation.

"I... grew up on a farm," James said. "With my parents. One of the crops we grew was potatos."

"Ah, I see," Lyall hummed. "Oh! Not related: What age did you begin reading, and how quickly did you progress from there? Cas was supposing sometime ago that you were advanced for your age."

Again, James found himself merely blinking in reply for a moment. It seemed that he'd forgotten Cas and Hild might've talked about him to Lyall, in particular. Maybe Lyall knew more than James thought.

"Ah..." James said quietly. "Well. I remember starting very young. Maybe as young as three they introduced me to it. Of course, I wasn't reading full books at that age, but my parents both loved to read and wanted me to share in the joy of it. I can't say just how quickly I progressed... but I do remember around age five being able to read more. Sentences and sounding out words, whether or not I knew what they meant yet."

"A noble pursuit," Lyall said. "I don't know if Hild was entirely passionate about it at first, but she was determined to learn as quickly as she could, if only to catch up with Ulf and me." Quieter, he added, "I may or may not have goaded her on, too."

"Did you like to read?" James asked.

Lyall grinned. "Quite a bit. Especially adventure books like The Isle's End. Escapism was largely responsible for my maintained sanity for awhile."

"I can imagine," James said more softly. "Being a doctor isn't an easy job."

"Doubly so," Lyall said, grin fading a little, "when you're prepping to take over the family business."

"I don't know if it's too personal to ask," James began. "But why were you in line to inherit the business? Did your brothers take a different career path?"

Lyall shrugged a shoulder. "I was the oldest brother."

"Ah," James said. "I suppose there's also that."

Only nodding in acknowledgement, Lyall's gaze drifted down to the floor for a quiet moment. Then he cast James another easy smile and said, "You should try to catch up on some sleep. If not now, then soon."

James felt his heart sink in his chest.

He was exhausted. But sleeping again only to have another nightmare only seemed more exhausting.

"...Soon," he said quietly.

"Alright," Lyall said simply.

James had a feeling Lyall wasn't going to entertain him with converation much longer, and then he'd be left to his own devices to try to keep his mind off of... well... everything.

"Is that the end of the... 'trade?'" James asked.

Lyall quirked a brow. "If you have anything you'd like to add, by all means."

To only delay the inevitable for but a few moments more, James forced himself to think of something.

"I... don't like chocolate," he said.

Lyall raised both brows at this, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Really?"

"If it was the only food available to me, I would perhaps eat it, but I would very much not enjoy it," James answered.

"Really?" Lyall said again, sounding more perplexed. "Strange man," he mumbled with a teasing grin.

"Is it really so strange?" James asked. "Plenty of people dislike foods for their own reasons."

"Would you prefer burnt food to chocolate, then?" Lyall asked.

James sighed through his nose.

"Now you're just being mean," he muttered. "I know what good food tastes like. I have simply learned to enjoy whatever food is offered to me. Except chocolate."

Snorting, Lyall waved a hand and relented, "Yeah, okay, you know what you like."

"I'll anything else without complaint," James said definitely.

"So I've heard."

James stared at Lyall for a moment.

"What have you heard, exactly?" he asked.

Lyall just shrugged noncommittally. "Mentions of trivial things. Say, on the topic of chocolate, my sister quite enjoys it. Prefers the dark, strong stuff."

James hummed.

"Good to know," he said. "If ever I obtain any I will give it to her."

Lyall grinned. "I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

"Is there anything else she's fond of I should be aware of?" James asked, since they were on the subject.

With a quiet hum, Lyall glanced up in thought. "Well, aside from chocolate, she's actually not big on sweets. Fruit's good, the occasional little bauble-- Doesn't even have to be particularly nice, could just be old watch parts or something. She'll whack me over the head all day about practicalities, but she likes to hoard useless trinkets."

James thought for a moment if she kept the little wooden cat he'd carved her. Maybe she would enjoy things like that.

"Thank you, Lyall," he said quietly. "This is very helpful."

"Glad to assist," Lyall said with a laugh. "That's enough free information on my sister, though."

"Free...?" James asked. "Is this still an exchange?"

"What? Oh--" With another laugh, Lyall hopped to his feet now and waved dismissively. "No, it's fine. Though perhaps I could begin charging a coin or two for my wisdom from here on out. Make a commodity of secret knowledge."

"As much as I am glad for your company," James said. "I'm afraid I can't afford that kind of friendship. I'm not exactly oozing coin out of my pockets."

"Alas," Lyall said with an exaggerated frown. "Maybe a family discount is warranted."

James wasn't sure if he was too tired to unpack the implications of that accurately, or if it even needed to be thought through very deeply at all.

"Is the discount free?" he asked. "Or do you accept things besides money?"

"We could probably arrange something, however unorthodox," Lyall snickered. "Oh! Here's an offer: For every few hours of sleep you can get, I'll answer any one question you can think of."

Turning to look back up at the bunk above him, James let out a very, very long sigh.

"Is that your way of telling me to go to sleep, now?" he asked.

"Basically, yes." Lyall stuck out a hand and added, "That's a legitimate offer, though."

"I'd rather not have a friendship be contingent on how much sleep I'm getting," James said quietly. "I am trying. I just don't have high hopes right now that it will... improve anytime soon."

He looked at Lyall's hand, but didn't move to meet it. He didn't like making deals he couldn't hold up his end on. Even when they were conditional and small. He probably took promises too seriously... but he'd gone back on his word one too many times before, and he never wanted to again.

Lyall just hummed and set his hand on his hip.

"That's alright," he replied easily. Stepping toward the door, he said gently, "Try to rest, James."

James watched as Lyall slipped out of the room, leaving the door cracked open. Though James's former instincts dictated that he'd rather have the door cracked so he could escape if needed, at the moment, he wished Lyall had closed it.

He didn't want the others to hear him tossing, turning, and screaming again.

But maybe that was why Lyall left it open.

James, left alone again, found himself staring above him with heavy eyelids, desperately trying to push off sleep for as long as possible. But his body was heavy, and his eyelids kept closing more and more with each blink until he finally told himself that he'd close them - only for a moment.

Of course, it wasn't only a moment.

Before he knew it, he was asleep.

And then he was waking up screaming. Again.

The first few days of travel passed them by, swift and silent. As she'd hoped, their reduced number allowed them to push forward a little harder, with far fewer stops throughout each day, and slightly longer into nights.

Penumbra and Raj's horse Midnight fared quite well, and Hild was reminded that they were both seasoned travelers and thankful for it.

She had wondered and eventually expressed concern for Robin, constantly traveling on foot-- paw-- as he had been. He quickly dismissed her concerns by simply saying: "I am a human. But I am a wolf too. And wolves are not humans."

Though completely lost as to what exactly he meant by that, she didn't press and just considered her concerns dismissed for the time being.

The latter half of the week was marked by a hush falling over the forest as the deciduous trees donned the colors of autumn. Bright oranges and reds scattering over the forest floor paved their path back to the dangers of the city.

Hild wasn't nearly as fearless as she appeared-- or, as she hoped to appear. Daily she worried for James's recovery. The less rational part of herself felt she could only be certain of his wellbeing when she was right there with him. But it was only right to be here on this rescue effort since she was the one who asked to return.

She prayed to whatever deities may have been out there for the safety of his family, too. She hated how it didn't occur to her much sooner that their lives could be at risk, but there wasn't much else to be done about that now.

Nightly she feared that her hope for them, however, was leading Raj and Robin back into the clutches of the capital, to their deaths.

She managed just enough sleep to function come sunrise.

It was evening when the capital came back into view.

They set up the horses a good distance away, then paced the forest for another angle through the city's imposing walls.

They couldn't risk returning to Laura and Kaleb's, or Adina's place. Not so soon after causing a stir, to say the least. That much they knew.

Raj led them further this time, in a long, long trek around the side of the city. It seemed he was aiming to go further in, looking, perhaps, for a more direct route to the inner city where the Rikk family's home was.

When Raj finally opened up the side of the hill and beckoned them in to follow, he waited until they were sealed within the earth to say anything.

"We're going to get in and out of here as fast as possible," he said. "I would take us directly to their home, but we don't know if they'll be under guard, and if the area is secure. The reality is, we won't know if any area is secure. But after discussing it with Bo at length and further consideration on my own, I've decided we'll be surfacing near Aaron's residence. Ideally, in their backyard. That's what I'm aiming for."

"Isn't that the guy who--" Robin started to say.

"Yes," Raj interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish.

"Are we going to kill him?" Robin asked plainly.

Hild cast a wide-eyed look through the dark in the direction of his voice.

"No," Raj said calmly, unfazed by the question. It sounded like he expected it, even. "We're going to persuade him to help us."

"Somehow the idea is simultaneously brilliant and horrible," Hild sighed. "And our best chance."

"I agree," Raj said. "Aaron is likely under just as much pressure as the Rikk's at the moment, but if we show up at his back door, he'll be more likely to err towards secrecy, as opposed to confusion, or turning us in. I'm hoping we can use that opportunity to learn how his neighbors are doing, and decide our best move from there."

"What makes you think he's not going to call the authorities on us? He sounded spineless when you described him to me earlier," Robin said.

"It seems we're hoping his sense of self-preservation will serve us," Hild said under her breath.

"He has a family," Raj said. "A daughter and a wife he keeps in the dark. I hope that, for them, with the kingdom breathing down his neck now that his prisoner escaped, he'll toughen up and grow a spine."

"That's a lot of hope to put in a guy who tortures people for a living," Robin muttered.

"I'm not hoping in him," Raj said tiredly. "I'm hoping in his love for his family. People who do wicked things can still care for others deeply. Sometimes it's what drives them to do such things in the first place."

"...I guess," Robin muttered.

"Good," Raj said. "Now stop wasting air. We have a ways to go."

It could have just been the fact that they were squeezed into a much smaller space than before, on their hands and knees, but it felt like the tunnel ran deeper and longer this time.

Hild despised the thought of offering any help to Aaron, of even just standing within a ten foot radius of him.

As Raj had said, though, he had a family. Ava was incredibly kind, and Shan still so small and taking after her mother. Hild had to rationalize by turning her focus to them, and hoped that Aaron would do the same.

By the time they resurfaced, the sun was setting behind King Peak's walls. The house cast the small, plain yard in a purple shadow. Though the (thankfully tall) fencing that ran its perimeter blocked out the light of street lamps yards away, it still felt far brighter outside than in the tunnel.

Careful and quiet, Raj sealed the ground shut behind them. While they paused to catch their breaths and find their bearings again, Hild faintly heard Ava's voice through the window drawing closer.

"They spotted us already," Robin said under his breath.

"Then I suppose we ought to meet them," Raj said, just as quiet.

Scanning the small yard around them, Raj led the way to the back door, taking them up the two steps onto the porch, where he raised his hand over the door to knock.

It swung open, and Ava nearly bumped into him as she stepped out. She jumped back with a startled shout.

Raj backed off, raising his hands up in front of him.

"We're sorry for startling you," Raj said softly. "Please. We're here to speak with Aaron. The matter is urgent and concerns all of you."

"Who are--" She cut herself short as she scanned their faces. "You're... You two were with Andrei and Henry." Ava gripped the door handle. "How did you-- Why are you in our yard?"

"I promise to explain," Raj said, keeping his voice low. "As long as it is safe within your walls."

He took in a slow, deep breath, and Hild could tell he was bracing himself.

"We're not with the kingdom," he said, barely audible, but intense, and earnest. "We know your situation. What Aaron is. We want to help. But we don't have much time."

Something in her drawn expression loosened, opened up just a little.

In the next second, Aaron screeched into the hallway and pulled Ava deeper into the house. Any urgent questions forming died when his eyes landed on the three on the backstep, and he then yanked Ava behind himself.

"Aaron," Raj said, meeting his eyes with a calm neutrality that would've looked believable if Hild didn't know how he really felt. "We need to talk. Inside. Now."

"Inside my house?" Aaron whispered incredulously. He jabbed a finger in their direction, and Hild had to press her fingernails into her palms and bit her tongue to keep from firing back.

If not for Aaron, then for his family, and ultimately James's.

"You are trespassing as it is--" Aaron hissed.

"We know you're a mage," Raj interrupted, still keeping his voice just loud enough to be heard between the five of them.

He reached back, and Hild watched as he pulled a small clump of dirt from the ground behind the porch and drew it into his hand.

Instead of holding it, he caused it to hover over his palm, letting the granules of dirt dance in a circle.

"For all our sakes," Raj set. "We will take this conversation inside, as long as it is secure."

He leveled Aaron with his stare.

"Is it so?" Raj asked.

Aaron looked between the three, his own gaze narrowing.

Ava stepped up to his side and gripped his arm as she whispered, "They can help us."

Raj let the dirt fall to the ground, and swept it off the porch with a wave of his hand.

"We'd like to extend an offer to help you and your family," Raj said. "Once you provide us the proper place to do so."

After another second of intense deliberating, and with Ava's pleading stare fixed on him, Aaron stepped further back, leaving the door open.

"Stay toward the back of the house," he muttered, "away from windows."

Raj dipped his head in acknowledgement of the terms and led the way inside, while Hild and Robin followed after.

"Lead the way," Raj said to Aaron.

As Aaron begrudgingly walked them down the hallway, Ava quietly closed the door behind them and asked for Robin's name.

The house was darker than it was during their last visit. With the walls around the city, the sun disappeared much sooner than it should have.

Aaron paused at the bottom of the staircase, scanning the windows at the front of the house.

"We can talk in my study," he said, pointing a hand up the stairway.

Raj simply nodded in reply, waiting for Aaron to go ahead. Aaron let his hand drop to his side, but didn't budge.

"Last door to the left," he added.

Raj looked to Ava.

"No surprises I should be worried about?" he asked.

Ava shot Aaron a glare as she stepped around him, then mustered a small, reassuring smile.

"I'll show you to it," she murmured as she started up the stairs. "Aaron, put on some lights downstairs."

With a deep frown and moment's hesitation, Aaron obliged and headed for the dining room.

Robin leaned in to whisper to Hild. "Spineless and a stick up his--"

Hild quickly shushed him and pointedly nodded at Aaron's retreating back.

Robin huffed, but went quiet.

"Apologies again for scaring you," Raj said up ahead to Ava. "It was poor timing. I'd intended to knock first."

"It's alright." She turned left, per Aaron's instructions. "I understand the front door wasn't an option." With a small laugh and easier smile, she added, "I'd just assumed you were one of the neighbor's dogs digging under the fence again."

"Not too far from the truth," Raj said, and Hild caught the smallest grin on his face before he looked forward, his expression out of view.

Ava led them into the study. While she searched the drawers of a hefty desk in the middle of the room, she quietly asked for someone to close the door. Robin eagerly obliged, and shut it gingerly. The cluttered study slowly came into focus as she lit candles around the room.

"This is around the time Aaron hides away here, anyway," Ava explained as she drew the curtains closed too. "So, I'd say your timing isn't too off."

"It works in our favor," Raj said. "I'm assuming you've felt more of the army's presence since the unusual execution escape several days ago."

"Security's been tighter, yeah," Ava agreed with a sigh. Perching on top of the desk, she slowly asked, "How did you find out? About Aaron."

"We caught wind of it from someone he works with," Raj said. "If they know, we believe he may be in danger. And in turn, your family is as well."

Ava bowed her head, and her brows were drawn in a deeply troubled expression. "And...do you often help people like this?"

"In secret," Raj said. "Yes. We go to great lengths to keep it hidden from the kingdom."

"However you do it," she said, "it's effective. I haven't heard of anything like your, um, group." Ava glanced at the door. "How will you help us?"

"We intend to get you safely out of the city before anything happens to you, your daughter, or Aaron," Raj explained. "Once we leave the city we'll take you to a safehouse where one of our teams will come through and take you out of the kingdom. From there they will escort you to a secure location. I can disclose more specific information once we're outside of King's Peak. But I can assure you we will protect you and bring you to a safe place where you can live in peace."

The door opened, quietly. Everyone's attention snapped toward the hall, though, as if the door had been kicked in.

"At what price?" Aaron asked as he eased the door shut behind him. He scanned all of them up and down, trying to gather what information he could. His eyes lingered on the dirt still clinging to their clothes and hands; it visibly confused him for a second.

"We've come to extract two families out of this city," Raj said plainly. "Yours, and your neighbors, the Rikk family. We'll need your help to get them out safely as well. If you could answer a few questions about their situation it would help inform our next decision on how to best do so."

Aaron seemed ready to probably argue, but Ava straightened and cut in, alarmed, "So they're not being protected right now?"

"Looks can be deceiving," Raj said. "They're as much 'under watch' as they are 'being protected.'"

Casting a dark look toward the drawn curtains, Aaron muttered something akin to, "Bastard," under his breath. Hild followed his eyes to the embroidered leaves and his line of thought to Carter. As much as it pained her to think she was ever on the same page as Aaron, she had to agree.

"What do you need to know?" Ava asked, "I haven't been able to visit with Jane or her family lately, but I'll try to answer what I can."

"We haven't been able to get a clear look at the guard's watch rotation. Do you know if there are any guards inside?" Raj asked.

Ava folded her arms and picked at her sleeve as she thought. "I don't know if they stay inside the whole time, but I see some guards going in and out. Every few hours, I think."

"We'll cautiously assume there are guards inside, then," Raj said. "That will make getting them out far more difficult if they're under constant supervision. Our best window will be in the cover of the night, but we'll have to act fast. Once we get them out, we may have trouble right on our tail."

Raj looked from Ava to Aaron.

"I will need a familiar face to come with me to help persuade them to come with us," Raj said, though his gaze favored Ava. "They may not be fully aware of the reality of their situation."

"I can--" Ava started. Aaron cut her off this time, insisting, "I'll go, then."

"I can sneak you over to their property with me, but we'll need to be as quiet as possible," Raj warned. "Do you know if the guards are posted at all of the entrances?"

Aaron let out a short huff. "I don't make a habit of spying on my neighbors' house at all hours--"

"Yes," a small voice answered through the door, "one for the front, one for the back."

Raj glanced back, and Aaron and Ava both cast the door rather indignant looks. Beside Hild, Robin didn't even bother turning his head.

"You may as well let her in," Raj said. "This affects her too."

With a sigh, Aaron opened the door and swept an arm inward. Though sheepish, Shan sprang straight from a crouch by the door into the room and stood by her mother, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Ava," Raj said. "Do the Rikk's have a basement? I assume you've been over to their house before."

"They do," Ava answered.

"We'll be doing a lot of tunneling underground," Raj said. "It's how we got in and how we're getting out. I'll take us under their home and through the basement, and silence any internal threats so we can get then out of there."

He looked to Aaron, meeting his eyes firmly.

"Leave the guards to me, and don't step in harm's way. You're coming to validate this rescue mission and nothing more," Raj ordered.

"Very well," Aaron said, though he very slightly bristled.

"Ava," Raj continued. "Pack light, but start to gather your necessities. Bring only what you can carry. We will be crawling a significant portion of the journey out of the city through underground tunnels. Take that into account. If you can spare any room to pack with your neighbors in mind, please do. They won't have the time to prepare as you do, since we'll have to get them out of there before the guards notice something's wrong."

Ava nodded. "Alright."

"We'll wait another hour until it's the dead of night," Raj said. "And then we'll make our escape. Ava, I'll send you and Shan to hide underground with Robin and Hild so I can tunnel us down to meet you, and we can hurry out. Hopefully you're not afraid of small, dark spaces."

"We'll be okay," Ava answered with a small nod. "Anything else?"

Raj slowly looked to Aaron.

"You're a healing mage," Raj said. "Right?"

Aaron tensed, and only inclined his head in reply.

"My sister is a healing mage too," he said. "It's a very useful magic. I'm sure it will bless many people in the days to come."

Aaron didn't move, didn't answer.

Hild looked away to scan the bookshelf's volumes of medical texts. Her skin still crawled by merely standing feet away from him.

"Well then," Raj said, abruptly getting to his feet. "No time to waste. I'll go out back and dig down a place for you to wait. You all get packed. If you need help with anything, Hild and Robin would be happy to assist."

And with that, they dispersed.

There was a second's delay before Aaron followed after Raj into the hall.

Raj's words appeared to give him pause. Hild tentatively concluded that there may have been some hope for him after all. Her main, more certain takeaway for now though was simply that Raj was a far better person than she was.

Ava hurried out to pack. Grabbing paper and pen from the desk, Shan began scribbling down a list of necessities.

While they had time before putting their plans into full motion, Ava insisted that they all have a quick bite to eat now to carry them a little ways into their journey ahead. There weren't any windows in the foyer, just in the sitting and dining rooms off to either side. So they filed down the hall to the back of the house, and entered the kitchen from there.

With an apple in hand, Hild quietly helped Shan parse through her list for the true necessities. (Hild could see the benefit of snow shoes, but not for their immediate travels, and thus figured they could do without.) Then she stepped back and half-listened as Ava gently reviewed with her daughter what changes to expect.

Shan only seemed to half-listen too as she bounced around the kitchen for foods to pack. Ava eventually stopped trying to get her attention and turned back to puzzling things into a bag.

Save for their packing efforts, the kitchen fell quiet.

Hild peeked out into the hallway, just to check, though she figured that Robin would've said something if anyone outside was approaching.

She hoped Aaron accompanying Raj wasn't a mistake. In the event he didn't actively sabotage their efforts, was he still a friendly enough face for the Rikks to trust? How well did he function under pressure?

Withdrawing back into the kitchen, Hild wrung her hands as she quietly paced. Her mind then wandered to the wellbeing of James's family, hoping nothing had happened to them before now, that they could walk away from this completely unscathed.

Then her thoughts, perhaps inevitably, jumped back to the cottage, where James was likely still on the mend. She thought of the kiss they shared before she left, and it made her want nothing more than to get out of here, to rush back to where they'd all be safe again.

And in less than an hour, their plan would be set in motion, and they hopefully wouldn't have to come to King's Peak in a very long time, if not at all.

Shaking herself from her own head, Hild drew in a breath as she squared her shoulders.

Ava and Shan finished packing by a quarter to midnight.

In a brief moment of stillness, gathered in the darkness by the backdoor, Ava actually turned to Hild this time, ready to say something. She hesitated, then asked, "Should we wait outside, then?"

Ava's face was drawn with worry, and she held her daughter's hand tightly. She was handling this sudden uprooting of her family's lives rather well (though Hild supposed the circumstances demanded it, so she really had little choice). There was something else that Hild couldn't quite place at first though. Something that weighed heavily, and she tentatively labelled it as uncertainty for now.

Hild checked Caspar's pocket watch. 11:48 PM.

"We should be ready for them, yes."

Raj had left an opening in the ground for them out in the backyard. Hild jumped down first to receive Shan and their bags. Robin from up top lent Ava a hand down. Once they were all situated below the surface, it felt crowded between the four of them.

Hild couldn't see the watch now.

"Who was it?" Ava asked abruptly, then clarified, "When you found out about Aaron."

Hild blinked into the dark. The dinner at Ava's own house came back to mind, as did the conversation between Hild, Jane, and Ava's own daughter.

Ava must have read Hild's hesitation as an opportunity to further clarify and went on, "I just-- It doesn't matter now, I guess, but I wonder...how much they knew, you know? And if he willingly told them anything, or if they found out without meaning to."

No matter how much Hild willed herself to speak, nothing tactful or particularly reassuring came to mind.

So Ava continued, "And, if it was something he confided in them, then how much more did they know about him? How much more did they know about him than me?"

Oh.

There was no way Hild could have ever prepared for this conversation.

"I think," Hild began tentatively, "while I don't...know your spouse very well personally, I do think he..." She glanced up in thought, then, suppressing a shudder, tightly finished, "He goes lengths to protect you."

Ava was quiet for a moment, and it was an uncomfortably unreadable silence. With a forced laugh, she said dismissively, "Sorry, it's-- That's not something you'd want to discuss, least of all now."

Hild softened a bit, able to at least understand that Ava was troubled by knowing less about her partner than she originally believed.

She just wasn't sure how to be her listening ear in this moment, especially considering the moment and the fact that it was Aaron.

"What is it that worries you?" she eventually asked, a little haltingly, and she hoped they had the proper time to invest in this.

Then she remembered Shan was sitting right there with them, and it occurred to her that perhaps marital issues weren't anything Ava would want to air out right then with her daughter right there.

"Another time," Ava said quietly.

Another opportunity to talk out of earshot of Aaron, though, was unlikely once they were out of the city.

Hild simply nodded, and added, "That's fine."

So silence fell over them once more as they waited. With the watch in hand, Hild felt the seconds pass, and counted the minutes.

12:09 AM, maybe.

In the silence, there was a very faint hum off to the side. It gradually grew into a more distinctive, familiar low rumble.

The wall to the side opened up. Hild only had a second to make out the features of Raj's face before he closed up the opening overhead and said, "Let's go."

--

5:23 AM.

The sky slowly turned lilac, and the stars began to blink out one by one as they traveled in near silence.

Ava was thankfully comfortable enough to ride with Shan while Hild lead Penumbra from the ground. Shan had fallen asleep by now, resting back against her mother. Jane was given Raj's horse, Midnight, for the trek. Everyone else walked.

There hadn't been a chance for re-introductions. Now, though, as the forest gradually brightened with the oncoming day, there were faint looks of recognition as they glanced over each other's faces.

Hild wondered how much Aaron was able to explain, back at the house. She figured for now, not very much at all, and that they likely had a lot more questions to be answered.

She idly adjusted the holster strapped over her sweater and glanced back at the city growing small as they steadily gained ground.

By 10, they cleared the first incline. Starting down the other side of the steep hill, the city disappeared from view behind them.

"This is all because of James, isn't it?" Larrel's asked, her voice cutting through the tense silence clear and crisp.

She was walking just ahead of Hild, right behind Raj. Hild saw Raj glance back at her, but his expression seemed carefully kept blank.

"That is indeed why you and your family were in danger," Raj said.

"We never told you his real name is James," Larrel said quietly.

Raj visibly looked to be thinking through a response, though his neutral expression didn't falter.

Well, now was as good a time as any to delve into the truth of their connection, Hild supposed. Straightening, she spoke up, "We've been traveling with him for the past several months. He introduced himself as James Hawke, though not at first."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Larrel's eyebrows furrowed and her face pinched in what looked like clear confusion and disbelief. She came to an abrupt stop and whirled around to Hild.

"We're stopping now," she demanded, or rather commanded. "And we're not moving until someone tells me directly what exactly is going on."

Raj and Robin were quick to come to a halt with her, while the horses and their riders took a few paces to meet a standstill. Hild stood with her shoulders squared, evenly holding Larrel's determined gaze. Larrel's brother, Petrus, seemed to be hovering by Jane, but her father, David, came up beside her.

"You told us we were in danger of being used as leverage against our son, to force him to turn himself in," David said, setting his hand on Larrel's shoulder. "That much we believe is true. But it appears there's more you haven't told us."

"Did you help him escape?" Larrel blurted, and questions kept flying out. "Is he with you? Did he plan this? Who are you, anyway? How long has he been travelling with you? How did you meet him? Where is he?"

"You're right." Hild folded her hands together in front. "There's a lot we haven't been able to tell you, until now. I'm Hild Ashlund, former physician and surgeon. Several months ago, your brother James passed through Needle Point, my place of residence at the time. I helped patch him up, he helped me out of imminent danger. Months after that, we had the good fortune of meeting Raj, Robin, and others in the Ruddlan area. We've been part of a larger traveling group since.

"Yes, it was us who assisted his escape," she affirmed, "and I'm sure he would've come with us now to retrieve you personally if he had the strength to do so. As it is, he's in recovery in a secure location elsewhere. We're currently on our way to said location."

She paused, allowing time to process and the room for them to ask anything else.

Jane slowly dismounted. Hild noticed that Petrus offered his hand to help, but his mother didn't seem to notice him, and she landed heavily on the ground.

She turned her attention on Hild, and though she looked like she was trying to keep herself composed, there was a deep well of sadness welling in her eyes.

"So... he's alright?" she asked, voice dangerously close to wavering. "He's really alive? He's not..."

There was a pause as she trailed off, like it was still sinking in.

"Yes. He's alive," Raj said gently.

Expression softening, Hild nodded and murmured, "You'll get to see him again very soon."

Jane looked too beside herself to say anymore, though she was clearly trying to keep her emotions at bay. Merely nodding, she wandered over to her husband grabbing his hand as she leaned on his side.

Dropping her gaze to the ground, Hild instinctively stepped back a little now. Glancing back again to check the direction of the city, she caught Aaron's slight shuffling off to the side.

There was a long beat.

Raising her hand, Shan quietly asked, "Is there going to be enough room where we're going?"

"Yes," Raj replied. "There will be enough room."

He paused, but continued before there was a follow-up question.

"Ava and Aaron," he said, addressing the question of why they were there before it could be asked, evidently. "The reasons for your rescue out of King's Peak are different. We were only fortunate that you were neighbors, which allowed us to more easily bring you both out of imminent danger at the same time."

"I'm glad we could've been of help," Ava said with a small nod and smile. "And thank you for yours."

There was a hint of skepticism in Aaron's eyes, but he said nothing.

"Of course," Raj said.

"...What is their reason?" Larrel asked vacantly.

Raj looked to Aaron and nodded to him, as if giving him permission to share for himself. Aaron straightened and tilted his chin up a little, but he didn't quite meet anyone's eyes as he eventually answered, "I... I don't know how they found out, but I'm... a mage."

There was a beat of silence.

"That explains a lot," Larrel said.

Aaron frowned.

"We were actually going to tell you soon anyway," Ava offered.

Aaron's frown only deepened. "We were?"

"I mean, a guy who can move the earth at will got us out of King's Peak before we got stuck under house arrest or worse," Larrel said, gesturing to Raj. "If you think I have a problem with you being a mage, you're mistaken. Great. You're a mage. Good for you. Is everyone here a mage?"

Larrel looked around, meeting specifically Hild and Robin's eyes with a searching gaze.

"I'm a healing mage," Robin said plainly, though his eyes flicked to Aaron. "Not a very good one."

"Better than he gives himself credit for," Raj added.

"And you?" Larrel asked Hild.

Hild shook her head. "No, I'm not a mage of any sort."

Larrel looked at Ava and Shan, almost accusingly, this time not even asking the question.

Ava's eyes saddened. "Just Aaron."

Larrel's expression softened with readable regret for her accusatory tone. Wilting a little, Larrel nodded.

"Right," she said quietly. "Just Aaron."

Tucking a hand into her coat pocket, Hild gripped the watch and felt the seconds. As much as she wanted to allow them time to work through everything (of which there was quite a lot), they weren't even a full day out from the capital.

Clearing her throat a little to catch everyone's attention, Hild asked with some urgency in her tone, "Any other questions?"

There was a tense silence, and Larrel awkwardly turned to Shan and Ava.

"So," she said, clearing her throat. "James is my long lost brother, as you know. Apparently he's better known as Tiberius Hemming, the man who's been wanted by the kingdom in everywhere for years. Don't know how he managed that."

She flicked her eyes to Hild, like she wanted to ask something, but decided against it.

"Just in case you were confused," Larrel added. "Since... you know. I mean, I assume you heard about the botched execution--"

"Failed is a better word," David suggested.

"You know, the execution that didn't happen because James didn't show up," Larrel said. "That's so like him to miss his own execution."

Ava offered a tentative smile. "It could be good to see him again, though, right?"

Larrel looked conflicted. There was a mix of emotions that passed over her face, and it was hard to tell exactly what was going on in her head.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "It'll be... good."

Smile disappearing, Ava glanced down at the ground, then up again to say, "Anyway, thank you. For clarification."

Larrel nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Sorry this-- well, I don't know if it really warrants an apology, this is all just very disorienting and-- well, you know."

She let the thought drop with a weak smile as she looked to Raj.

"So... you're taking us to James, then," she concluded. "Somewhere safe."

Raj nodded in return, but his eyes fell on Aaron.

"The party will be splitting a little further down the road," Raj said. "Aaron, I still intend to take you and your family to a safehouse where another team will take you to a different location, just as secure. Your skills could be sorely used at a different base."

Aaron nodded sharply and replied haltingly, "Very well."

When Ava nudged his shoulder with her toe, he amended, "And-- and thank you, of course. It-- this-- Helping us this far--"

He fidgeted and gestured wildly with his hands.

A very vindictive part of Hild wanted to poke at him by openly drawing attention to the profuse sweating on his brow. But it looked like Larrel and her family were already beginning to notice. Larrel, especially, had her head tilted and brows pinched in confusion and concern.

"Aaron," Ava whispered, "you look really unwell all of a sudden."

Perched atop a horse as she was and with her husband on his feet, it was a rather loud whisper.

"Are you okay, Aaron?" Larrel asked, eyes flicked to Hild and Raj. "Maybe we should stop a little longer so he can rest? We were going non-stop for a while..."

"No!" Aaron burst before anyone could say anything, "It's fine, mustn't waste another moment on chatting or resting." He swept both arms forward with great urgency. "Lead on."

Arching a brow, Hild evenly affirmed, "I think he's steady enough for now. I really would prefer to have at least a day's worth of travel between us and the city before we stop for an extended period."

"Agreed," Raj said. "If there are any more questions, they can be asked while we're moving."

With a wave of his arm, he gestured for everyone to follow once more as he started walking.

While she gently pulled Penumbra along, Hild listened for a moment as Ava quietly addressed her husband again.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked, "You're sweating buckets in near-freezing weather."

There was a second's delay before Aaron answered, "I, um. We'll talk more later."

Looking back again in the direction of the city, Hild was able to catch a flash of resigned doubt in Ava's eyes. Ava didn't press though, and looked out to the trees.

The forest was still clear behind them. Hild faced her traveling companions' backs again as they traveled in silence once more.

--

9:30 PM, they finally stopped for an honest-to-goodness rest.

Raj, Robin, and Hild agreed on a watch rotation between the three of them. Come 10 PM, though, everyone was still awake. Unable to sleep, still reeling from how the morning earlier so completely and abruptly uprooted their lives.

Curled up tight, Robin was the first and fastest to retire for the night.

Shan tried her hardest to stay awake to listen in on the murmured, sparse conversations around her. Wrapped cozily in a blanket and leaning comfortably on her mother, though, she was the second to drift into sleep.

Jane and David had settled down by the fire, opposite to Hild. Their faces were weary, and exhaustion weighed heavily on them. The shock of everything held sleep at bay for them, though. She felt a sharp pang of empathy as she studied them.

Scanning their tired little camp, Hild decided against trying to fill the silence.

Keeping her voice quiet, Ava firmly decided that now was a good time for that "talk more later". With fidgety hands, Aaron agreed.

As they both rose to their feet, Shan stirred from sleep. When Ava murmured a quick reassurance, Shan nodded groggily and simply flopped the other way onto Larrel.

"You've been acting weirder than usual," Ava murmured as they stepped away.

Aaron sounded a little exasperated as he countered, "Well, these circumstances are rather strange."

In her peripheral, Hild absently watched as they stopped seven paces away from camp.

"I mean--" Ava sighed. "Ever since moving to King's Peak. There's something you haven't been telling me."

Aaron didn't have an argument to that. Just loudly scratched the back of his neck, and shuffled in place.

There was a long silence as Ava waited, and Aaron paced.

Hild poked at the fire. She perhaps should've felt guilty, intentionally eavesdropping. But, as it was, the edge of the firelight was still within earshot of everyone, and it was Aaron, whom she did not care for in the first place. The circumstances absolved her. (Mostly; she did like Ava.)

Aaron's pacing stopped. "I don't like to worry you," he mumbled.

"But we're not supposed to keep things from each other," Ava said firmly.

Another pause.

"We trust each other," Ava asked, quieter, "right?"

"I-- Of course we do," Aaron said, wilting. "I just-- Look, we've both got a lot on our minds right now, our lives have been-- they've been completely overturned in the past 24 hours, we have no idea what's coming. We'll-- we can get back to this soon, once things have settled a little more, okay?"

"And when will that be?" she pressed, frustrated. "Aaron, you haven't found a good time to tell me for a whole year of settled things. There will never be a 'good time'."

Aaron began pacing again. "It's-- It simply pertained to work. Tediousness--"

"That much, you've mentioned plenty of times," Ava cut in. "What are you working so hard to hide?"

"The-- the kingdom has many secrets," Aaron tried. "We can't possibly cover everything now."

"That's fine." Ava jabbed a finger at him. "We'll just start with your secrets. You're a doctor, right?"

He stammered. "Yes. Well, see-- Technically--"

"You're not a doctor?" She sounded flummoxed now.

"I am," he said hastily, "on paper, I am. But my responsibilities-- it shifted overtime. The change was so gradual, it didn't feel worth mentioning."

"How did it start, then?" Voice lowering further, she demanded, "Was it an evolving work relationship? Was someone--"

With great distress, he shushed her and said, "Of course it wasn't! Ava, there's--" He pointed emphatically back to camp. "I'd rather not air out grievances in front of everyone."

"I'm done waiting to talk on your terms!" she whispered harshly.

"Fine! I'm technically not a doctor, okay? Can we please just go to sleep now?"

A second's pause.

"And why couldn't you just tell me that?" she asked, perplexed.

Wringing his hands, Aaron resumed his frantic pacing. "The-- the details are far less...pleasant, and it's not something I like to talk about after a long day."

Hild couldn't help but bristle as he still tried to play on sympathies.

Ava was quiet again.

"It's been a really long day for everyone," she eventually said, stern. Not quite appeased, but willing to relent a little, now that she had something to work off of. "I'm tired, but we're far from done."

Aaron didn't reply.

There was a tense moment of what Hild could only call a stare-down before Ava turned back and rejoined their tight circle around the fire. When Aaron delayed, Hild glanced sideways, catching the small look of relief he cast at the ground.

When he looked up again, there was a split second when their eyes met. Hild stared coldly at him. Aaron's jaw clenched.

When he reclaimed his spot by Ava, Hild quickly turned her attention in the opposite direction.

"Why don't you rest?" she said quietly to Raj. "I'll take first watch."

Raj nodded in agreement.

"Wake me for second shift," he said as he laid down by the fire, pulling his blanket around his shoulders as he turned away from the others.

Inclining her head in response, she rose to her feet and stood just a few paces away from camp.

Slowly, one by one, most everyone at least hunkered down to try to sleep.

Notably, Ava kept her back to her husband. Aaron curled up small, facing the other way, with his face tense with a sort of turmoil.

Hild checked the watch. 11:48 PM.

Checking back, Larrel was the only other person up.

She sat facing the fire, eyes distant and tired as she stared into the flames. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, tucked up close to her chest. The lower half of her face was hidden behind her arms.

Turning her finger against her palm, Hild looked back out to the trees. She debated if she should approach and say anything, then wondered what she'd even say in a moment such as this.

She allowed her mind to wander back to the cottage where family and friends waited, hopefully well and safe. Tonight would be their...seventh? Eighth day? Of being able to truly rest before another extended period of travel.

She hoped James and Caspar were letting themselves sleep. She hoped Lyall was smartening up and opting for tact and not being an idiot while she was away. She hoped the children were still in bright spirits, and not too frightened by the night terrors.

Hild longed to be back with everyone. To argue with and poke fun at her brother, to resume cooking lessons (maddeningly vague and cryptic as Bo could be sometimes about measurements), to engage in another group game (in this moment of sentimentality, she'd say she was even willing to lose graciously), to read with Lyall's daughters, to scoff at Caspar's terrible jokes, to simply talk with James and personally ensure he was alright and dance with him again soon, maybe even potentially just hold his hand and be.

She found this slightly strange. Caspar had chosen the laurel plant as a symbol of her ambition. But all she wanted now, all she found herself aching for was the smaller things in life.

"I never thought I'd see him again."

When Hild looked up she saw Larrel had lifted her face, and briefly looked to meet Hild's eyes, but returned her gaze to the light.

"What's he like, now?" she asked softly, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "My brother?"

Hild padded closer to the fire again. Slowly and quietly, she answered, "Your brother is...reserved. But, ah, quite genial. Stubborn. Strategic. Cares deeply."

Larrel was quiet for a moment, looking to be in deep thought.

"Does he still like telling stories?" Larrel asked quietly.

Sitting down beside her, Hild glanced into the fire for a brief moment. "He still enjoys stories. I'll hazard a guess and say that he likely tells them less often than he used to."

Larrel hummed softly.

"It's... been a long time since I last saw him," she said. "He's more... of a small collection of memories in my head."

Hild silently nodded in understanding.

"I was seven years old when he left," she said. "He was eleven. He'd just turned eleven..."

...When he went to fight a war he and many others were too young for.

Hild stayed quiet.

"He told me he'd come back," she said faintly. "It's been... almost fifteen years since. That makes him... he should be 25, almost 26 now?"

Humming in thought, it occurred to Hild that the subject never came up before, so she didn't know when exactly James's birthday was. "Sounds about right."

"Do you... know him very well?" Larrel asked. "I'm assuming you're friends?"

"We are," Hild answered simply. Semantics, but now didn't feel like a great time to delve into it.

"It's just hard to imagine what he's like now," Larrel said. "I don't know how he even managed to become the most wanted man in Nye. I thought maybe he'd run off and died in the wilderness or something. Not... whatever else he ended up doing."

"I understand," Hild said. "It's likely rather..." Bizarre? Surreal?

"It doesn't feel real," Larrel said. "When we got the summons to go to the execution I thought they had to be joking. James was never--I mean, he was maybe a little secretive, sometimes, but he was never a bad kid. He was a great brother, honestly, before he left. He went out of his way to take care of me and help out. Never complained. Was always trying to make me laugh. It's just so-- I can't imagine him becoming a hardened criminal. He was always so... so gentle, and sweet. I don't know what happened."

Before Hild could say anything, Larrel kept going.

"And the thought of seeing him again--" Larrel continued. "I just... I don't know. I missed him so much all this time, but now it feels like I'm going to meet a stranger."

With a small, gentle smile, Hild offered, "Maybe he won't be so different, though."

Hild couldn't help but think of when her own brother so unexpectedly arrived in that storm. Though undeniably changed in ways she never could have imagined (genuinely relaxed, sillier even, able to let someone else lead, letting himself be sincere and vulnerable), Lyall was still undeniably his irritating, tedious self.

Careful and sincere, Hild went on, "James is still a very kind person. If I may be so bold, I'd say there's a good chance you'll still recognize him."

Larrel's solemn, saddened expression seemed to soften just a bit, but there was a still a lingering uncertainty in her eyes.

"Do you have any siblings?" Larrel asked.

Hild nodded. "Three brothers. My family scattered to the winds seven years ago, but I was reunited with my eldest brother just months before now."

Larrel's eyebrows raised.

"How long were you separated for?" she asked.

Hild blinked. "Seven years."

"That's a long time," Larrel commented quietly. "Is he... still with you? Or, I mean, is he at the place we're going?"

"He is," Hild said. Leaning in a little closer, she mock-whispered, "I apologize in advance for any and all of his inevitable tomfoolery."

Larrel grinned slightly.

"He sounds fun," she said softly.

Hild allowed herself a small smile as well. "I suppose he has some good qualities."

"Do you two get along?" Larrel asked.

Humming, Hild answered honestly, "Better now than we used to."

"Is it alright if I asked what... happened that separated you two?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, that's quite alright," Hild said softly, and sat a little straighter. "My eldest brother, Lyall, inherited our mother's magic. For awhile, our family went unnoticed, but he was eventually found out. We're still not entirely sure how because we were always so careful, but I suppose it doesn't matter much anymore at this point. A confrontation with a mage hunter led to a house fire, which bought us enough time to flee the Isles entirely.

"One of the middle brothers was already moved out, with a wife and child. I parted ways with Lyall and our youngest brother to go warn him and his family, and I didn't see Lyall again until recently in the Ruddlan area."

Larrel nodded slowly.

"It seems like the issue of magic tears a lot of families apart these days," Larrel said quietly. "I'm sorry that happened to yours."

"Tragically, yes," Hild agreed, managing a faint, saddened smile. "Thank you. My family has fared...better than I could have anticipated, for which I'm grateful. We're okay."

The thought of Viktor still unfound and unheard from still lingered, always. A persistent, nagging knot in her chest, even if (perhaps shamefully) she didn't always keep him on the forefront of her mind. Hild opted not to mention.

Larrel glanced over at her parents, and Petrus, seeming to take in the reality of her own situation.

"I guess... at least we're all here," she said faintly. "And okay."

Looking back to Hild, she squinted her eyes with a more searching gaze.

"You said James was recovering?" she asked. "Was he hurt in the escape?"

Training her eyes on the fire, trying not to glance Aaron's way, Hild tightened her hands in her lap. Then she faced Larrel again.

"He'd been in King's Peak for a week before the escape," she explained, her tone evening on instinct. "Though his time spent in capture overall spanned closer to a month. He..." Her voice faltered a moment. "...suffered extreme physical abuse, and was deprived of basic necessities. I can't say for how much of that time, I don't know, but..."

Hild had to turn back to the fire again as she lowly concluded, "He has a long recovery ahead of him."

Larrel's eyebrows pinched together.

"You're saying they hurt him?" she asked. "The kingdom?"

Grimly, Hild nodded once and let her gaze drop to the ground.

Larrel feel silent for a some time, and the heaviness of the subject seemed to hang in the air.

"Do you know?" Larrel whispered. "What he did to... to make the kingdom want to do that to him? Was it that bad?"

"He--" Hild hesitated, then firmly went on, "What he did wasn't wrong. Your brother went against the dictates of the Guild, in protection of mages."

In protection of people like their new friends, and Lyall, and their mother...

Gods, would their mother have loved to have known James.

It looked like it took a moment for it to sink in. Larrel stared off into the darkness of the cold forest.

"So he was... trying to protect people?" Larrel said. "Mages?"

Hild nodded and murmured, "He's a good man."

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Larrel let out a long, long sigh.

"I have a lot of questions for him," she said. "But it sounds like he's not doing very well. Should I... prepare for the worst?"

"You...perhaps should prepare yourself," Hild agreed slowly. "Though he should be physically improved somewhat by the time we arrive." She bit her lip, then added, "If... If you're up for reconnecting with him, I think that--"

Hild strongly wished she had her brother's far better bedside manner.

"That could be good," she finished simply.

Larrel nodded slightly.

"I'll try," she said quietly.

With a slight nod of her own, Hild decided to let that lie now.

Larrel seemed to be out of questions, and Hild could see she was visibly fading. Finally giving in to exhaustion, Larrel turned to lie down.

"Thanks for talking to me," she whispered. "It was Hild, right?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, Hild," she said, lying down with her back to the fire.

Hild inclined her head with a soft, "You're welcome."

Now on her own, Hild stood and silently toed along the edge of the fire's light, keeping close watch of the darkness around them.

She hoped that she hadn't overstepped by sharing as much as she had. Then she decided that Larrel really ought to be up to speed. She was James's sister, after all.

Glancing back at Aaron's tense, (likely not) sleeping form, Hild suddenly felt like she probably hadn't shared nearly enough.

The next safehouse was determined as not too far out of the way, so they all tacitly agreed that they'd stay together for dropping off Ava and her family.

The shelter was a small cabin this time, in quite poor shape externally. The wood used was dark and weathered, and entirely overrun with greens around the front porch.

Inside was not much of an improvement. Not only was it dusty and filled with cobwebs in the corners, but nature had also invaded through some of the floorboards and eaten away at the window sills.

No one said anything, supposedly out of politeness.

Shan however looked all around and up at the molded ceiling with a look of distaste.

"Is this safehouse actually..." The girl's gaze narrowed at what looked to be a rodent fleeing the corner out through the loose shiplap of the wall. "...safe?"

"Sometimes, you have to hide the desirable behind the undesirable," Raj said with a small grin.

Bending low, he stopped at the corner of the room. He curled his fingers under the gap between two loose, rotting floorboards. When he tugged it upwards, a seam in the floor that was formerly hidden made itself known as planks of wood lifted up, like a door.

Carefully, Raj guided the door until it laid flat on the other floorboards behind it. Opened up before him was a hole that seemed to lead down into an underground base, likely similar to the ones Hild had encountered before.

"There's a ladder," Raj said. "Does anyone need help climbing down?"

Eyes lighting up, Shan chirped a "nope" and helped herself down without further invitation. Raj followed after her. Aaron hastily climbed in too, uttering concerns about contamination. Ava descended in a more relaxed manner, but an intense curiosity shone in her eyes.

"You can go on ahead," Robin said beside Hild. "I'll stay up here with the Rikk family and keep watch since we'll be moving soon anyway."

Hild inclined her head. "Very well," she murmured, "I'll ensure things inside are in order, then."

For a moment, she shared Aaron's concerns about disease-ridden animals having scurried all around prior to their arrival. A light down below was lit before she touched down. Hild brushed off her hands on her coat as she took stock of the space.

"To alleviate your concerns," Raj said as he carried a match from one lamp to another. "This space is well insulated from the cabin portion up above. And those with earth magic weed out the tunnels any critters made to get in here with little difficulty. You'll be fine. This house has harbored dozens of mages before you, and gods willing, many more after."

Shan had flopped back onto one of the cots in the far back of the room.

"Ah," Aaron said, a bit stiffly, "thank you."

Hild paced along the perimeter of the room, scanning the shelves filled with paper parcels labeled as various dried foods and jars more of preserved things in plain or spiced water. There was a small space off to the side of the room with an old water pump.

Everything inside was indeed well-kept, and there was more than enough necessities to keep comfortable for awhile.

"You should have rations enough to last you until another team passes through here," Raj went on. "They're scheduled to come by within the week, give or take a few days. I'll leave a note informing them of your situation. Brett should be leading the team. You'll connect with him."

Setting down their bags, Ava pulled Raj into a quick yet tight embrace and said emphatically, "Thank you so much."

Gently pulling away, Raj gave Ava a pat on the shoulder.

"This is just what we do," Raj said. "You're family. We look out for each other."

He turned to look at Aaron, who straightened at attention.

"If you keep your heads low, you should be fine here. If you need to go above-ground, just be aware of your surroundings and don't stray too far."

Aaron nodded sharply. "We should be alright then."

"Good to hear," Raj said, and he nodded in return. He offered a brief, tight smile that faded as quick as it came.

"We're going to grab a few things for the rest of our journey," Raj said, turning to the stocked shelves. "But feel free to get comfortable. And if you have any more questions, now's the time to ask."

He waved Hild over.

"If you could gather some spare blankets and food for the Rikks," Raj said. "I'm going to work on that letter first."

So they got to work.

While Hild picked through the bunker's stock, Ava and Shan excused themselves for a quick moment to say goodbye to their good neighbors.

Raj cleared a small space on one of the food shelves for himself and bent over a sheet of paper with pen in hand. His scrawl was short and fast, but still legible.

As she packed some jarred foods, cushioned by the folded blankets she'd already gathered, Hild briefly wondered if Caspar was keeping up with his writing practice.

She absently registered somewhere towards the middle of the bunker Aaron's idle shuffling. Sparing just a glance over her shoulder, she noted how he kept himself angled towards the exit without fully turning his back to herself and Raj.

Turning back to the shelf, she neatly laid some dried packaged foods on the tops of the jars.

"You need to tell her," Hild said calmly.

A tense beat of silence. She watched from the corner of her eye as Aaron visibly bristled.

"Stay out of my business," he snapped.

"It's a little late for that," Raj commented, eyes still on the paper as his pen kept moving.

Neatly folding her hands in front, Hild turned and pinned Aaron with a cold, hard stare. "Your business became ours the moment you took that 'big case' from Carter."

Aaron studied them, searching a second for the connection until it clicked for him. He jabbed a finger in her direction. "How did you--"

"Keeping a secret of this magnitude from your family," Hild smoothly cut in, "was bound to come back to bite you."

"You should be glad it's us and not Carter doing the biting," Raj added, still writing.

At this, Aaron folded his arms and went quiet. He paced, almost frantically like an animal in the corner he backed himself into.

"You'll have plenty of time to tell her while you wait here," Raj said.

Aaron opened his mouth, seeming ready to retort.

"Ava," Hild said before he could, "your wife, is trying to trust you."

Eyes screwed shut, he audibly scratched both hands at the back of his head. "She-- It's my mess, she doesn't need that worry," he muttered, low like a mantra.

"Not sure how you think of marriage, Aaron," Raj said flatly, eyes never leaving the paper. "But I'm pretty sure your mess has already become her mess. Consider where you are right now."

Aaron stopped pacing, with his back turned to them now. "It's my mess," he repeated, more to himself this time and sounding more at war with himself.

Good.

Hauling the newly packed bag over her shoulder, Hild took measured steps up to Aaron's side in the middle of the room. He straightened, posture turning rigid again. She leveled him with a hard stare.

"If it weren't for Ava and Shan, I would've left you in the capital," she bit out. "But you are bound to your family, for better or worse. This," she gestured to the room around them, "was you choosing for the worse. Tell Ava the truth. If she leaves you for it, she's well within her rights to do so. There is a slim chance that she won't."

Aaron began to look askance. Hild stepped around in front of him, grabbing his attention once more.

"If you don't say anything, though," she said lowly, "you will most assuredly lose her for good."

He gave her one last hard glare. Then, swallowing hard, he glanced at the bunker entrance, and turned his gaze out toward the wall, as though to resolutely ignore Hild.

What he chose now was up to him. She was happy to not give him anymore thought. Nodding once conclusively, she carefully readjusted the pack on her shoulder and resurfaced.

Larrel and Ava were caught in a tight embrace, and Jane had bent down to give Shan a gentle hug. Larrel was facing Hild's direction, and as she stepped up into the room, their eyes met. Hild allowed her own expression to soften.

There was a flicker of sadness, but she nodded. She gave Ava one last squeeze before she pulled away.

"You've been a great friend, Ava," Larrel said emphatically. "Best neighbors we've ever had."

Ava, trying to be discrete as she briefly turned to the side, wiped under her eyes before mustering a warm smile. "You've been a godsend," she said, "and I'm going to really miss you all."

"We'll miss you too," Jane said with a weak smile. Her eyes were foggy as well.

"Stay safe," Petrus said as he came up and gave Ava a quick hug as well. "The three of you."

"You as well," Ava said, giving him a good squeeze before pulling away.

Shan made a beeline back to her mother and held Ava's hand tightly. The deep, tear-streaked frown on her little face caused a pang of sympathy in Hild's chest.

Sensing she arrived in time for the conclusion of goodbyes and well wishes, Hild stepped away from the bunker entrance to give Raj space enough to climb up. She was surprised when Aaron followed close after.

Before Hild could notice her approach, Ava pulled her into a quick hug as well. Caught off guard and with one hand holding the strap of the hefty bag, Hild could only pat Ava's back in response.

"Thank you," Ava said warmly.

Hild quietly inclined her head.

While Ava thanked Raj once more, Aaron stepped around them, and toward the Rikks. Hild managed to mask her surprise as she watched him as he quietly asked to have a quick word with them.

"Since we don't know if we'll see each other again," he said, haltingly, "there's something you-- something I ought to tell you."

The four of them all exchanged stiff, mostly confused looks with one another.

"Sure," David said. "Go ahead."

"Why don't you step outside with them, Aaron?" Raj suggested.

"Of course," Aaron said quickly, pointing an arm toward the door, "ideal."

Awkwardly, but without hesitation, the Rikks filed outside with Aaron in the back. As they vacated the cabin, Raj caught Hild's eyes and nodded for her to follow them outside.

Likely to hold Aaron accountable, so she stepped out behind the group.

Aaron cast her a narrowed sideways glance, but said nothing. With a poignant glance of her own, Hild swung the bag from her shoulder to strap onto Penumbra's saddle.

Looking back over his shoulder to the cabin, Aaron cleared his throat and wrung his hands. The Rikks watched him expectantly.

"I believe," he started slowly, his volume low, "it perhaps pertinent that you know about... That the details of my job were altered in conversation for the sake of, ah, pleasantries staying...pleasant."

Drawing in a sharp breath, Aaron stood straighter and angled his head a little higher so that he looked over their heads at the trees. "I was employed in the palace dungeons, as an interrogator. It was just a couple of weeks ago that Carter assigned me to what he referred to as a 'special case'; a criminal with a sizeable bounty, whom Carter captured personally approximately a month before that--"

"Carter Haddon?" Larrel interrupted.

After a second's hesitation, Aaron nodded. "At least that much was true from our...dinner conversations. The criminal to whom I was assigned for a week was..."

When he trailed off, Hild hardened her gaze as she watched him. The Rikks only stared at Aaron in a heavy, dead silence, but seemed like realization was sinking in already on Jane and Larrel's face.

Turning his gaze from Hild's glare to the realization dawning on Jane and Larrel, Aaron sighed heavily, deflating. At Aaron's reaction, David and Petrus seemed to piece it together as well.

"The criminal mysteriously escaped, moments before execution," he finished, voice just above a murmur.

The silence that hung in the air felt loud. Jane stared at Aaron with wide eyes, the horror clearly painted on her face, and David seemed just as shocked. Petrus's expression turned to a mixture of disgust and contempt, while Larrel's evolved from contempt to a cold, burning rage. With her eyes locked onto Aaron, and brows pinched down, she stared at him like she didn't want to believe him.

Larrel took a step towards Aaron.

"A week?" she said through her teeth.

Finally meeting everyone's eyes, Aaron gave the slightest of nods and-- to Hild's surprise-- uttered, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Larrel scoffed. "Wh--"

She stuttered, clearly holding back a wave of emotions. The wrestle was clear on her face. In her clenched hands at her sides.

"What did you do to him?" she spat out in a harsh whisper.

Eyes flicking down to her fists, then back to her face, Aaron stepped back. "It was an interrogation," he answered tentatively. It was criminally indirect.

The tension in Larrel's frame grew visible as her knuckles turned white, and her breaths started to quicken.

"'It was an interrogation?'" she echoed. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

Petrus walked up behind her, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Larrel," Petrus said, but if he'd meant to say more, he stopped when Larrel ripped her shoulder away.

"Don't," Larrel hissed.

Petrus didn't back off, but he pulled his hand away. Larrel whipped her attention back to Aaron.

"What did you do to him?" Larrel asked again, each word punctuated sharply, more cutting. Her glare pierced through Aaron, pinning him in place.

"You wouldn't want to know," Aaron said simply. He folded his arms tightly in front, recoiling defensively.

"You had us over for dinner," Larrel said tensely. "You looked us right in the eyes and all the while you were torturing my brother back in the palace, weren't you?"

Aaron stayed quiet this time. He looked out at the trees, looking ready to flee at a moment's notice.

Larrel raised her fist, looking ready to throw a punch. But the moment Aaron flinched and braced himself, she froze. Eyes starting to water, her anger seemed to meld into sadness, and she drooped. Turning suddenly, Petrus was there to receive her. He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned down and buried her face in his shoulder. She hugged back tightly, digging her hands into the back of Petrus's shirt.

Petrus looked over Larrel's shoulder with a cold glare, but said nothing. Beside him and his sister, Jane was still staring at Aaron, but seemed at a loss for words. David had his arm around her shoulders and was watching Aaron closely.

"You can leave now," he said. And somehow, his words only seemed hollow.

When the blow never landed, Aaron let out a sharp breath and took stumbled steps back. He opened his mouth, but couldn't muster anything else. He couldn't meet their eyes anymore, and instead glanced back to Hild.

With hands folded and expression even, Hild tilted her head toward the cabin. Ducking his head, Aaron at last took his leave. She didn't spare him another look as he passed, didn't pity him as he disappeared into the cabin to now face his own family with the same confession.

Raj and Robin stepped out soon after Aaron was inside. It seemed that, after taking in the state the Rikk's were in, they both wisely kept silent for a few more moments.

After the silence dragged on for maybe a minute, David spoke up.

"Did you know?" he asked, looking to Hild and Raj.

"Yes," Raj said solemnly. "We're sorry for keeping it from you."

David looked to his wife, then back to Raj.

"I understand," he said quietly, only for another extended silence to follow.

Robin started to busy himself with preparing the horses, and Hild followed suit. By the time they had everything ready, Larrel seemed to have collected herself a bit more, and though the Rikks still looked worse off, they seemed as ready as they could be, all things considered.

And then they were off, traveling in somber silence.

The days couldn't have passed any slower. Even as they began to blend together, the anxiety remained like a slow-growing knot in James's chest. Nothing felt quite real. He was physically present, but even in conversations with others, his mind was absent, still stuck back in the cell.

By the time Lyall told him a week had passed, James was eating more. His success rate for keeping the food down was 50/50, but Lyall considered it a success, and James didn't argue. Though he wasn't always happy to force down food, he did it to avoid conflict, or (what he considered) worse, to be coerced into eating, as if he wasn't aware of what they were doing.

In fairness, he was rarely fully aware of everything around him. Too many times he would realize someone was in the room, when they'd been there for minutes, hours even.

He realized part of it was due to the sleep deprivation. He'd gone through seasons in his travels where he ran on little sleep, but it had been some time since his dreams had been tormenting him as intensely as they were now.

He found himself falling asleep all the time. Sitting up. Standing up. Lying down. Mid-conversations, and even in the middle of eating. Maybe seconds would pass before he snapped to attention, but sometimes it was minutes, sometimes hours. If it was any longer than a moment, it was enough for his mind to stir up something to wake him, and that always resulted in some kind of reaction. Caspar, or Lyall, or Mel... someone would always be at his side to make sure he was alright.

Or to make sure he didn't do anything to hurt himself.

Though he was recovering, he was recovering slowly. Slower than he had in times past, and especially slower since Mel was refraining from using her magic to do so.

He was able to sit up regularly by the time the week was over, but he was only permitted limited movement. He would get up and walk around on occasion, but he would get tired out within mere minutes, and at most, an hour. It wasn't always that he didn't feel he had the strength, but trying to push through the constant pain he was exhausting.

It didn't help that not all of the pain felt visible. It wasn't something he knew how to describe to Lyall, and he didn't know if he should mention it at all. He didn't know if it was merely in his imagination or if it was real.

But everything ached, constantly. It was as if there was a constant hum in every nerve, all throughout his body, and all the time, his senses were telling him he was hurt, and going to be hurt soon. In the back of his mind he knew what he was really anticipating was the touch of Aaron's hand, and the searing pain that came every time he ripped away his energy, tugging away at his life.

He was safe. The threat was gone. But he didn't believe it. It didn't feel real yet.

Cy would come in and read with him. James would follow along at first, but as she turned the pages, his mind would wander. Often, she'd reach the end of the book and ask him if he was done.

He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd stopped reading pages and pages ago. He would only nod.

Sometimes Caspar would come in and draw by the light of the window. He didn't often strike up conversation, but occasionally he would talk about what Lyall and the girls were up to, or things he had talked about with Mel and Bo. Just generally keeping James up to date on the goings on around the cottage.

Mel would come in on occasion to check on him, and Bo would come in to offer him food. Sometimes they would chat for a little, and then they'd leave.

But more often than not, James was simply left alone with Lyall.

Lyall had a way of filling up the empty air with words when he was visibly restless, but there were just as many occasions where he would simply busy himself with reading or writing or other mindless tasks while staying in the same room to keep watch. On occasion the girls would join him and he'd play with them quietly - and sometimes not so quietly - on the other side of the room.

Today, however, was not one of those days. Lyall mentioned something about Bo and Mel taking the girls out to forage, leaving the two of them alone at the cottage. James didn't know how Lyall felt about his role as his caretaker, but he knew it wasn't easy.

And James didn't always make it easy either.

He'd already spent his physical energy for the day going on a short walk around the cottage, and he was back in bed again. The air outside had been cold, and he'd been able to see his breath like clouds of smoke around his face.

Normally, he didn't like the cold. But having been cooped up inside most of the time, he was just happy to be breathing fresh air.

Now, the air was warm and stuffy. The windows and doors were kept closed to keep the heat of the fireplace in, and it warmed the whole cottage quickly, permeating through the walls into the bedroom with little difficulty.

Despite longing for fresh air, his body thanked him for the warmth when he'd come back inside. Piled under what felt like too many blankets, the weight on top of him was oddly calming, if only in a dull way.

Lyall was perched on the top bunk across from James. Papers were spread out around him, and he wrote in what sounded like a quick, messy scrawl in an open journal on his lap.

James knew Lyall was expecting him to sleep, but to no one's surprise, James had been unable to.

"What are you working on?" James asked quietly.

After a second's delay, Lyall glanced up and answered, "Ah, just personal records of recent events; refreshing my memory on conditions, afflictions, the like, of the muscular system; a smattering of creative writing." He gestured vaguely with his pen and left it at that.

"Ah," James said weakly. "I won't... interrupt, then."

"I can multitask," Lyall said easily, turning his attention to a small stack of papers to his left. "What's on your mind?"

That was a difficult question to answer. There was a lot on his mind. All of the time. And all of it was muddled together through the fog of pain, making coherent, clear thoughts more difficult to parse.

Yet, as the days passed by and the time Hild was gone with Raj and Robin increased, there were two constant worries at the forefront of his mind.

What if they never came back?

And what if they did? What if they came back with his family?

Hild had never specified what exactly her plans were for a rescue, and he knew that was because neither of them knew with certainty what kind of rescue would be necessary. But James knew in his gut that Carter was likely at the end of his rope with James - to the point that if he were to see James again, or send anyone after him again, that he wouldn't bother with a capture. He would go straight for the kill.

James had no illusions that Carter wouldn't threaten his family with the same if he thought it would convince James to turn himself in. He had a feeling that Hild understood as much, and it was entirely possible that regardless of whether or not Carter had issued any threats, Hild would opt to get them out of there. Just to be safe.

But there was only one problem.

James wasn't ready to see his family again. Not when he was honest with himself.

"Perhaps out loud?" Lyall suggested. "Unless you'd prefer to keep all that deep thinking internal, that's fine."

Too afraid to start at the truth, James found himself taking the coward's route. Instead of answering, he asked a question.

"Can I ask..." he started quietly. "What your relationship was like with your family?"

And even in that, James felt he was being too transparent. He wished he could sink into the bed, under the covers.

Brows raised, Lyall looked up again. "My family as a whole?"

"...however you want to answer," James said quietly.

Humming, Lyall began straightening up the loose sheets of diagrams and notes around him. "Alright. Well, there's a lot of different ways to describe what it was like, to account for different periods of our lives and the way individual relationships changed overtime, and as we became our own people. Since we all stayed in the practice-- most all of us-- our family name was a major part of all of our identities."

He tucked all of the papers away into a leather bag, but kept the journal open and pen in hand as he continued, "I'd say we were closest-- the most connected to each other, though, than we ever had been after our mother and Jeff passed. It was an emotionally tumultuous time, yes, and we probably fought with each other more than ever before. But it was then that we realized we knew far less about each other than we ought to have as siblings.

"Anyway, I'd say all in all, it was..." Lyall spread his hands in a shrug. "It was good. I miss them, and am glad to have my sister with me again."

James went quiet.

Under different circumstance, James felt he would be able to navigate this conversation in the exact direction he desired. He could keep asking questions, and avoid sharing what he was really thinking entirely. He could take the conversation in circles until Lyall forgot his initial question, and James got tired, and then he'd be encouraged to sleep again, and that would be the end of it.

But the pang of guilt - the guilt that was always there, where it'd made a home in the hollow of his heart - stung sharper, and it clamped his mouth shut.

Tilting his head, Lyall gently asked, "What got you thinking about that?"

There was a pressure building up inside of him. In his head. In his heart. Tension was building in every muscle as he worked up the courage to reply with something sincere. Something real.

The amount of effort it took to do so resulted in the words coming out emptily, as if it was someone else saying them.

"I was... thinking about my own family," he said. "And the possibility of me seeing them again."

"Ah, yes." Lyall nodded slowly. "It's been a while since you last saw them, right?"

James swallowed thickly.

"Sixteen years," he said faintly.

"Oh."

James fell silent again as the weight of the time in between weighed on him again. While it weighed him down, he found himself distancing himself from the fullness of the grief that it carried. Hollow words followed.

"I was eleven," he said, barely audible. "The last time I saw them."

"Should be...interesting, then," Lyall tried. "Are you nervous?"

James didn't know how to lie in response.

There was a long pause.

"Terrified," he said.

"What was..." Lyall stopped himself, and let silence settle.

What was the reason? What was... what?

James found himself too unsure to think of a response. He didn't want to say more than Lyall wanted to hear.

"Were you close with your family?" Lyall eventually asked.

He should've seen the question coming. Of course it would come back around, back to him. James swallowed again, bracing himself for his own response.

"I was," James said. "Before... before my father's death."

He paused, taking in a breath.

"He died when I was ten," he said. "And we had to move from the family farm to the inner city in King's Peak."

He was skipping over details. Important ones. Context. But he found himself trying to hurry to the end.

"Instead of drawing us together... my father's death caused us to grow apart," James said quietly.

"...Sorry that it went that way," Lyall murmured.

"I don't know if they'd even want to see me," James said, his throat tight. "If they'd... even come. With Hild. If they had a choice."

Shrugging a shoulder, Lyall said quietly, "Guess we'll find out soon."

That didn't calm James's nerves at all.

"If... if they..." he started to say, but found himself too afraid to voice the fear of whether or not they would return.

After a moment's hesitation, Lyall offered, "I'll go out on a limb here, and say there's at least a small part of them that may want to see you again."

If only to air their grievances personally, sure.

"Did you think Hild would want to see you again?" James asked.

Lyall's eyes sharpened a little as he glanced James over, seeing the diversion for what it was. He went with it, though, and answered breezily, "Hard to be sure with her. I'll bet she offered to go just to get a week's break from me."

James knew that wasn't true.

"You're not that insufferable," James said, looking away.

Lyall barked a laugh. "That is high praise indeed."

"I only mean to say that... you likely underestimate how much she cares for you," James said, trying to sound more sincere.

"You're a rather serious sort," Lyall commented lightly.

James flicked a glance back to Lyall, catching Lyall's grin.

"I... suppose..." he answered awkwardly, unable to argue with him. Lyall wasn't exactly wrong.

"In all honesty," Lyall went on, "I don't think I ever supposed whether or not my sister wanted to see me again. Just hoped that she did, since we were in decent standing with each other by the time we parted ways."

"And now that you've reunited?" James asked.

"I, ah, suppose she missed me as much as I did her," Lyall said, casting a softer smile to the floor.

James nodded slightly.

"I can confirm as much," he said softly.

Swinging down from the top bunk, Lyall flashed another, toothier grin and said, "I'm very sure she can't wait to get back to you, though. Haven't seen her so enthralled with a person before. It's a tad strange, to be frank, but overall nice. Nevermind all her father's efforts to set her up with someone, she found herself a good one."

James found himself staring at Lyall blankly as his words took a few too many delayed seconds to register. All in all, James realized that apart from commenting on Hild's feelings for James, Lyall was also giving James a compliment. And a rather high one at that, though in a teasing manner.

He felt his face grow warm.

"I... am happy to have your approval," James said stiffly.

Lyall laughed again. "She shouldn't be too far from here by this point, actually," he said, waving a hand as he glanced at the window, "as well as Raj and Robin... Should expect them any day now."

Any day now. That only made James's stomach twist in knots of anticipation.

Yes, he longed to see Hild again. He wanted Raj to come back safe to Mel, and Robin as well. He didn't know how to imagine seeing his family again, but he knew there was no use in trying to figure it out now. It was uncertain, and all he could do was wait. He hated it.

With a small sigh, he turned away, looking at the wall instead of the window. Lyall left his line of sight, and if he pretended to drift off, he wondered if Lyall would leave it at that. But he knew that would be childish.

He didn't realize that his mind had drifted away from the converation though until he saw something in his periphery. Eyes curious and assessing, Lyall leaned over him.

"Have I lost you?" he said, sounding amused. "When, praytell, did you last catch sleep?"

"I don't know," James said. "Maybe last night."

Before he'd woken up scrambling out of his bed. He only vaguely remembered it. But he felt it in the bruises that had developed later because of his own panicked reaction to whatever he'd dreamed.

Lyall hummed as he straightened again. "Alright." He nodded toward the door. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat. Fancy anything while I'm there?"

"No, thank you," James said simply.

"No preference, noted," Lyall said, spinning on his heel. "We should still have some of Bo's soup leftover."

James didn't bother groaning at the thought of eating. He was resigned to it, and it happened uneventfully. Lyall came back in a few minutes later with a plate of food for himself, and a bowl of warm soup. James pushed himself back up into a sitting position and worked slowly at it, one spoonful at a time.

Lyall was finished with his food long before James was halfway through his bowl, but he didn't interrupt James's snail-like, methodic rhythm. Likely because he knew if he did, James would consider himself done.

By the time James finished and Lyall took the dishes out into the main room to clean them, he could hear the footsteps of Bo, Cas, and Mel returning with the girls. The chatter overflowed into the bedroom through the thin cottage walls, and James heard Lilya list off all of the mushrooms, berries, and flowers they found in their short foraging adventure. Cy was quick to correct her sister when Lilya mispronounced the name of something they'd found, and it sounded like they were laying out everything they'd found to sort, and for Lyall to see.

The conversations started to overlap with one another as Bo and Lyall broke off to have a conversation while the girls talked to Mel and Cas, and at that point, James could hardly decipher what was being said. It was all starting to blend together.

With a sigh, he leaned back onto the pillows propping him up, trying to let his stomach settle.

Sometimes, eating gave him strength like it was supposed to. But today, with anxiety tying his insides into knots, it only made him queasy.

Eventually, conversation started to die down, and James heard Bo's loud voice carry outside with Lyall, while Mel and Cas remained in the main room with the girls. He had a feeling Lyall was hoping he'd drift off, but James could never know anymore. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes, deciding he would try.

He focused on the sound of the voices bouncing off the cottage walls. He stopped listening to what they were saying, and simply let the muffled noises blend into the background. He focused on the warmth of the heavy blankets lying on top of him, and the warmth that pinched at his cheeks as the heat of the fireplace seeped into the room. He focused on the way the pillows molded to his head and his shoulders, swallowing him up. How the bunk overhead shaded him from the midday sun that filtered in through the sole window.

He could hear his steady breaths reverberate throughout his head and his chest. In and out. In and out. His ribcage rose and fell, and though with each breath there was an aching sigh in his frame, he gave in.

Sleep swept him away.

And he was alone. The room was dark, and he couldn't see anything. He'd stopped trying to put his glasses on a while ago, for fear that one day he'd wake up in a panic and accidentally break them. Lyall had put them somewhere safe, and made sure they were put somewhere where James couldn't fling them off the bed or his face.

So he was used to being blind. He'd spent most of his adulthood relying on other senses to survive, and this was no different. Eyes wide open, he tried to sharpen his hearing as much as he could manage.

The room was full of sleeping bodies, all over the floor, and in the beds. Bo and Cas must've moved into the bedroom for some reason. He couldn't think of why they would, unless something happened in the main room, or if the space by the fireplace grew too warm for comfort.

Without thinking, James found himself sitting up. The human shaped shadows on the floor were just clear enough that James was able to step around them. For the first time in weeks, he felt he had the strength again to be agile, and he quickly hopped to the door, slipping out into the living space.

Gingerly, he closed the door behind him, but when he looked into the main room, he saw that Bo and Cas were already sleeping on the floor.

He blinked, and confusion muddled his thoughts as he tried to think of who could possibly be in the bedroom if it wasn't them. Worry grabbed his heart, making his heartrate spike, and he started to breathe faster.

He hesitated, thinking of turning back to look into the bedroom, but he caught movement outside, through the window. Alert, he silently snuck over to the window by the front door, peeking out.

He thought he saw someone, but they were gone.

Glancing back at Bo and Cas, he hesitated once more, but only for a second.

He slipped through the front door and stepped outside.

The air was freezing, and it pierced through his clothes as if he weren't even wearing any. His bare feet sent a chill up his spine, and he shook his head as he looked around, scanning the tree line around the little cottage.

No one.

He sighed, and two puffs of smoke came out of his nose, floating out into the night air.

"You look better," a voice piped up from beside him.

Jumping, James whipped around and froze when he found himself staring at Aaron, leaning against outer the cottage wall.

"Deepest condolences about your family, though," Aaron said. "Your friends got there too late."

James only stared at him, his feet glued to the ground.

His family was dead. His family was dead because of him. It was everything he'd feared would happen. It was why he never returned to King's Peak. It was why he never reached out. It was why he almost never went by his real name. It was to keep them safe.

To keep them out of his trouble.

But he'd been naive.

It felt like someone had carved out a hole in his chest, and he merely felt empty. He didn't know what to do with the grief. He hadn't known what to do with it for sixteen years, but now it was real. It wasn't just that he was separated from his family. Now, he could never return to them.

But...

"Why are you here?" James asked, his mind suddenly snapping into focus on Aaron.

Aaron seemed to shy away at the question, visibly raising his shoulders in apprehension.

"Carter wanted to send a messenger," he said lowly.

Something burned inside him. Embers igniting into a flame.

"And he wanted... someone to finish the job," Aaron said.

But his words didn't seem to register in time.

Aaron moved faster, and reached over, grabbing James by the collar. He planted his hand on James's head, and before James could even think to push him away, he was in agony.

Spots danced across James's vision, and he felt his knees buckle underneath him. Despite falling, the pain continued, as Aaron held his grip. James thought to cry out for help, but he found himself barely able to form a thought, nevermind a word to come out of his mouth.

His energy was being sapped away, and he didn't have the strength to fight it.

His family was dead, and it was his fault. Maybe it was only right that he died just the same.

And then it all went black.

James's eyes shot open, he gasped, and air filled his lungs once more. Aaron had to have brought him back. But why? Why? He didn't have the strength to move as he started to panic, breathing like he didn't know when he ever would again.

He was trembling, and every muscle and joint was screaming.

"Hey, you're okay now," a voice murmured nearby.

It took James too long to realize it was Caspar.

Where was he again?

He stared up at the bottom of a bunk bed. He felt the weight of blankets, heavy on his chest, but tossed around him. He was on the lower bunk, and the room was warm, and the evening sun was dull through the glass of the windows.

Somewhere beyond the room he could hear the quiet murmur of conversation.

Slowly, it came back to him again. He was in a cottage. He was outside of King's Peak. Aaron wasn't here.

He wasn't.

Right?

He turned his head, feeling another rush of panic course through him as he remembered Aaron's haunting words before he tried to finish the job. Instead of seeing Aaron, he saw Caspar, sitting on a box pulled close alongside the bed. Caspar was leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his face tinged with concern.

"You with us again?" he gently asked.

James didn't know.

"Did I sleep through the night?" James asked, his heart still thumping out of his chest.

"Um, well, you slept," Caspar answered. "Just for an hour."

So him waking up in the middle of the night... that was a dream. It had to have been a dream. Right? Right. Still, he had to be sure.

"No one arrived while I was asleep?" he asked.

Caspar shook his head a little. "No, you didn't miss anything."

James went quiet, replaying the memory in his mind.

It had felt so real, but if nothing had changed while he was asleep, and he hadn't slept for very long, that meant it was just his mind playing tricks on him again. He didn't appreciate how vivid it had all felt, though. Including the pain of death.

Reaching sideways for a second, Caspar then took James's hand and pressed his glasses into his palm. "You'll probably be up for a little while now, right?" he murmured.

The touch made him jolt a little, involuntarily, but he tried to just let it pass and not draw attention to it. He nodded, and sat up as he slipped his glasses on, trying to shake off the dream that lingered in the back of his mind.

Caspar grimaced slightly, but stayed quiet as well, as he withdrew.

James adjusted the pillows to support his back, not planning to move from his bed soon.

"Do you get bored?" James asked, trying to change the subject to distract himself. "Sitting in the room while I sleep?"

Sitting straighter and folding his arms, Caspar shrugged. "It's not the most exciting thing, I'll admit, but the quiet's kinda nice."

"I'm sure you've been getting plenty of it lately," James mumbled, finally settling back against the pillows, pulling the blankets up around his waist.

"A good mix," Caspar said, casting a fond look out toward the main room. "Lyall and the kids prefer to fill silence."

James hummed. "Yes."

Unlike him and Caspar. Perhaps ironically, that was all James could think to say despite longing for something to distract himself from his own thoughts.

There was a quiet moment where Caspar seemed deep in thought. Eventually he asked, "How're your hands?" He held up his own hands and wiggled his fingers demonstratively. "Uh, motor skills-wise. I found some wood that'd do nicely for chip carving, if you felt like trying something new."

James looked down at his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers for a moment, trying to test them.

Normally, his motor skills were fine. But he hadn't felt normal for some time, and if he was being entirely honest with himself, he still felt the shiver running through his body, like a constant, mild shake that hadn't gone away. He didn't know if it was visible. But he could feel it. He was far from steady.

Swallowing, he forced a small, weak smile.

"Probably not right now," he said. "Maybe later, though."

Caspar gave a faint, encouraging smile in turn. "We'd start with planning it out in pencil, but that's alright."

"I could try drawing," James offered.

With a nod, Caspar picked up a square plank of wood (two inches thick) from the floor and set it beside James with a pencil. James carefully set the wood in his lap and picked up the pencil, holding it, hovering over the wood grain.

"Was there something you had in mind?" James asked.

"Oh! Yes, I've got a few ideas you can work from." Caspar searched his pockets. "You can take or leave them, change them if you wanted. They're just for inspiration, so." He shrugged.

Spreading out loose sheets of paper with soft creases running through the middles, he set three sketches between them. Notably, every sketch consisted of geometric patterns that created a larger, vaguely floral design.

James looked them over and picked up one in the middle, where the pattern circles inward with a swirl that fed into a flower in the center.

"I like this one," he said. He might deviate from it a little, but only to simplify it to a design he felt he could manage.

Caspar folded up the other two again. "I thought it was kind of nice," he agreed quietly as he tucked the pages away in his journal.

James merely nodded as he set the piece of paper on his lap beside the wooden plank. He tried tilting the plank up at a better angle to draw on and glanced at Caspar.

"Should I sketch it out straight onto the wood?" he asked.

"Yeah, right on there," Caspar said. "That'll be your guide when carving later."

James nodded again and hesitated for a moment, practicing a circular motion in the air with his wrist before he finally committed to it and started carefully sketching on the wood. He found that his hands were still a little shaky, and restored to smaller, scratch-like strokes to avoid any big mistakes.

Caspar eventually moved to sit on the floor, leaning back against the box with his open journal on his lap. He loosely held a pencil in hand, but seemed to just listen to James's pencil lightly etching on wood rather than draw something himself.

But James found himself focusing deeply on simply drawing. Though he was aware Caspar was still in the room, he found himself lost in trying to replicate the patter on the wood, eager to let the task fill his mind and take up space.

It was halfway through the transposing process when Caspar said something. Tilting his head toward James, but keeping his eyes fixed elswhere, he softly asked, "Do you...remember your dreams, by the time you wake up?"

James's pencil slipped, and he ended up drawing a line through everything. When he fumbled and dropped the pencil in his lap, he couldn't help but feel like it had been a dramatic overreaction, but he hadn't realized what a deep focus he was in until Caspar broke it.

It took a moment for the question to fully register, and he hesitated.

"Sometimes," James said. "Most of the time."

He didn't know what Caspar was getting at.

There was a second's pause as Caspar seemed to search the wall for words. "Have you tried talking about any of it with anyone?"

Well, Caspar should've known the answer to that question. James stiffly looked down at the pencil. He didn't think he'd be able to multitask, so he left it where it was, but kept his eyes down in his lap.

"No," he said quietly.

Indirectly, he had, maybe. But he'd never explicity told anyone what had happened in any of his dreams.

And frankly, nobody had asked. He wondered if they were afraid to. If they thought it would be too overwhelming, or that it would only make things worse.

Because he was more fragile than he ever was before. He hated that it was true.

Twisting around a little now to face him at an angle, Caspar said, "Do you want to try? To-- to talk it out?"

If James was being honest, the answer was no. He didn't want to try. But he also knew that what he was doing at the moment - which was merely trying to ride them out until they were over - clearly wasn't working. Everyone knew that. And he knew that Caspar wasn't asking anything unreasonable. He was trying to be helpful, and James could see that he cared, and was trying to be as gentle as possible.

James was just terrified.

He set the wood to the side of the bed, by the pencil, by the paper. Looking down into his lap, he brought his hands together, over his stomach. It was a small gesture. A weak attempt at self comfort. He wished he could curl up without pain. He wished he could hide instead, but that wouldn't be helpful either.

Staring at his hands, he swallowed.

"I could try," he said, committing to it even though everything in him tensed in apprehension.

Caspar nodded a little and gently said, "Alright." He closed the journal and kept it on his lap. "Are, um, any of them recurring?"

James pressed his lips together as he tried to allow his mind to remember.

"Yes," he said faintly. "Though it's a little different each time. But the end is always the same."

"How does it usually go?"

James found his words getting stuck behind his mouth.

He hadn't spoken of it since his rescue. It had hardly been two weeks. The problem was that his dreams were so close to real life that they felt real, which made the horror feel just as real when he woke up. Because it was. It just wasn't present anymore.

"It..." James tried, forcing words out like it was labor. "I'm back in my cell again."

He gripped his hands together tightly.

"I... can't move. I'm strapped down. And it's dark. I'm in pain, and... and a man steps in..."

It wasn't just any man. But he couldn't bring himself to say Aaron's name.

"... and then there's... more," he said weakly. "Pain like... I never knew before. All over. As if every nerve is exposed."

There was a moment of quiet, either to process or allow James to continue.

"It feels like... like I should be dead," James said emptily. "Like I should've died. I should have. I did. But he kept... he kept bringing me..."

Even though his eyes were dry, his throat started to tighten up, and his voice wavered to a stop.

"...Bringing you back," Caspar finished, tentative.

James swallowed the knot down.

"Yes," he said, barely audible. "Over... and over."

"And you said this dream always ends the same?" Caspar said, voice still soft.

James realized he wasn't only talking about the dream anymore. He had to bring his mind back to the dream. He was only talking about what happened in the dream.

"It always ends when I finally die," he said in a whisper.

Another silence lapsed.

"Does...this person ever say anything?" Caspar asked quietly.

James wasn't sure Caspar wanted to hear all of the things Aaron said in his dreams. If James was being honest, he couldn't really remember how much of it was just a dream and how much of it had really happened. It felt like it was all blending together.

"Yes," James said faintly. "Usually... taunting, and the like. Though sometimes he just... talks to himself. As if I'm not really there. Or I'm just... an audience."

Caspar was still for a moment, brows slightly drawn as he visibly turned over information.

"I'm sorry, for having to pry," he eventually said, voice still soft. He turned to look at James more directly. "I, um. I've started to notice a sort of pattern, once you're asleep. It could help sometimes if someone's able to maybe wake you before the dream gets too bad, and you should be able to sleep a little better after giving yourself a few minutes--" He waved a hand in a sort of shrug and quickly added, "Maybe, I don't know. It probably varies, I guess, but. From past experience, it can help."

"Isn't that a lot of work for all of you... to monitor my sleep so closely?" James asked.

"Well, it doesn't have to be all of us," Caspar said, then mumbled, "And I'm usually up anyway, so."

"Don't you need to sleep too?" James asked. Though it was hardly a fair question, coming from him.

With his head tilted, the somewhat flat expression Caspar gave him said as much.

"I'm just... you know what, nevermind," James mumbled.

Caspar shrugged a shoulder as he glanced down at the floor. "I know... Just spitballing anyway, I'm not an expert or anything."

James sighed.

"I suppose... you can try," James said. "No promises that I won't wake up swinging if you try to wake me in the middle of a nightmare, though."

Caspar huffed a laugh. "I'll be prepared. And try not to feel badly about it. It's my idea in the first place."

"You said it's helped you in the past?" James asked.

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Caspar fiddled with the pencil in his hands. "My, uh, kid had trouble sleeping for a little while. After the Outlands."

Ah. Jack.

"Did it... help him?" James asked.

"Usually, yeah. There was a bit of a pattern with him too. Gradually, I think we were able to work through it. Being in the wilds probably helped for him, too."

James nodded slightly.

"Well... we can... see if it helps," he consented.

Glancing back up, Caspar nodded once as well. "Alright."

After a small pause followed, James found his mind drifting back to his dream again. It all seemed so real, even after he woke up, and he couldn't shake off that uncanny feeling that it was true.

"Is is hard for you?" James asked quietly. "To... to hear about it? My dreams, and what happened..."

"Well...yeah." Caspar looked down at his hands. "Knowing that my friend was put through...basically hell, hurts. But I don't want you to feel like you should shove it all down and not acknowledge it for mine or anyone else's sake. If you need to talk about anything, I'm always here to listen."

"I just... I don't want to burden you with it," James said quietly. "I know it's a lot."

Caspar nodded slowly. "It is heavy," he murmured. "I know it's hard, but it's okay to let us help lighten that load for you too."

James fell silent. He knew Caspar was right, but the thought of talking about it still seemed overwhelming, like he would just relive it again.

"It doesn't have to be right away, either," Caspar gently added. "It can be on your own time."

James nodded, though it was a slight, barely noticable gesture.

In his own time.

He didn't know what that meant to Caspar. For James, he'd told himself that for years, but there was always something. He was always pulled into more trouble, and every respite was brief, barely giving him enough time to process anything that had happened before he was fighting to survive again.

It didn't help to talk about it, and it didn't help that his memory was so unreliable either. Even when he tried to remember back to the things he'd rather forget, things were muddled. It only got messier as the years went by, and it seemed that it was only in dreams his mind decided to remind him in vivid detail of all of his fears collected over time.

He knew that Caspar meant well. He knew everyone meant well. But he just didn't know how to even being talking about it, nor did he feel ready to. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready. If he could, he'd just move on, and leave it all behind him. But this didn't feel like something he could just move on from.

Sure, he'd done it before. He did it when he almost died in the jungle. He did it when Amy died. He did it when Leo died, and he barely made it out alive himself. He did it when Hoss nearly killed him. He did it over, and over, and over...

And he was so, so tired.

James let out soft, long sigh and found himself sinking back into his pillows, drained by the mere thought.

"I just wish I could feel like myself again," James whispered out, feeling naked, and vulnerable. "I don't know what that even means anymore. I wish I did."

"...You'll find that again," Caspar said quietly.

"Did you?" James asked.

Only briefly looking up at him again, Caspar shrugged. "It... I don't know. Sometimes, things feel less out of whack, I guess. But things will never be the same again. Even in good moments, there's always this...sort of gap, a hole that I'll never be able to forget about."

James didn't respond right away as he looked down in deep thought.

"I'm a much different person than I was six years ago," he said softly. "Some things have changed for the better... some not so much. I suppose... all I can do is keep moving forward. Because things will never be the same."

"Yep." Caspar stretched out his legs on the floor, journal still on his lap, and sank down little. "To moving forward," he agreed faintly.

"I don't exactly have a glass to raise for a toast," James said flatly.

With brows raised as though an idea occured to him, Caspar pulled the box next to him closer and picked through. He carefully tossed a water canteen up onto the bed, and uncapped another for himself.

James huffed through his nose.

"Is this an roundabout way to get me to drink water?" he joked.

"Sure," Caspar said, faintly grinning. "Hydrate, please."

James shrugged and took the canteen, screwing the cap off. He tilted it back, but hesitated. He lifted it. Like a toast.

"To moving on," he said weakly.

Caspar raised his canteen likewise. "To moving forward," he said gently, then knocked back a swig.

James lifted the canteen and took a sip.

"Auntie Hild!" Lilya shouted, her voice piercing through the window.

James sputtered and nearly choked on the water. He clumsily sealed the lid shut and tossed the canteen to the side. Though he was exhausted moments before, a new jolt of excitement and adrenaline sent his feet flying off the side of the bed immediately. Throwing the covers aside, he grabbed for his boots by the foot of the bed, merely shoving his feet into half-done laces, and shot up to his feet.

He knew he'd feel it later - and felt it even then - that he was pushing himself more than he should. But his feet were already carrying him out the bedroom, to the front door, all the way outside.

The air was crisp and cool, but he barely noticed it with his blood pumping. His eyes searched the trees before immediately landing on not Hild, but a woman atop Penumbra, where James expected Hild to be.

It felt like his heart stopped.

Time was put on pause.

James could't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

His eyes locked with his mother's, and he was looking into the eyes of a familiar stranger.

Suddenly, he felt unwell.

He broke his eyes away, only to see David. And Petrus. And Larrel.

Larrel. That was Larrel, wasn't it?

She was an adult, and she was a perfect combination of their mother and father. She had their mother's wide, bright eyes and their father's thick brows. Their father's strong chin, and their mother's soft cheeks. The face he remembered - hers, that he last saw - was only seven years old. She'd been so scrawny, and her eyes were almost too big for her face. Now she was... she was...

There.

They stopped, just a few feet in front of them.

Vision blurring, James realized, dumbly, that his glasses were back in the cottage, and he wasn't able to see his family clearly.

His mouth wouldn't move. Nothing had prepared him for this moment. He had no words, no explanations, no apologies. None of it was sufficient. None of it could bring back the sixteen years they'd lost him because of his own fear and selfishness. Because he'd chosen to run away. None of it could bring their lives back to normal after everything they knew and built for themselves was uprooted the instant they left King's Peak because of him.

Eyes glazed over with tears, he desperately tried to hold them back.

A blurred figure approached him slowly, and finally allowing himself to blink, tears began to stream down his face as he looked into the kind eyes of his mother.

She was crying too.

Desperately, James parted his lips, trying to put words to something. Anything. But his mother did it first.

She reached out and rested her hand on his cheek.

"James," she said, voice cracking.

James swallowed thickly, finally finding his voice.

"Mom," he rasped in return.

And something inside of him broke. His shoulders drooped, and he dropped his head forward as he began to weep uncontrollably, completely undone.

His mother's arms held him tight, and for the first time since he left home, he felt truly safe.

He melted into her embrace, as if rediscovering that touch could actually bring comfort. That some arms were safe to be in. That some hands were safe to hold and be held by.

His legs grew weak, but his mother followed him to the ground, still holding him. Every time he thought to say something - to tell her he was sorry, to tell her that he never forgot her, to tell her that he loved her - it got stuck in his throat, and he only sobbed harder.

He'd been so afraid that she would never want to see him again. He'd been so convinced that she wouldn't even want to speak with him. But he'd been wrong.

The truth was he wanted her to hate him because he hated himself. For years, he'd tried to harden himself believing that if he hated himself more than anyone else could, no one could really hurt him. It wouldn't hurt if he ever saw his family again. It wouldn't hurt it they rejected him as the son and the brother who abandoned them.

But with as little as one word - with as little as his name - his true name - he realized how wrong he'd been.

He wasn't staring into the eyes of a bitter, spiteful mother. He'd looked into the eyes of a mother who was so desperately happy he was alive that she was beside herself.

And he didn't know what to do with that.

With each sob he wanted to say:

I'm sorry for dissapointing you.

I'm sorry for leaving when you needed me most.

I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough.

I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I failed our family.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

But his words only turned to tears, and his mother didn't let go, even as he felt his tears seeping through her shirt as he his his face in her shoulder.

"It's okay," his mother whispered softly, her voice wavering with tears of her own. "I'm here, now. I'm here. You don't have to do this alone. Your family's here now. We've got you. I've got you."

James hugged her back, holding on tightly. Her words broke through every wall he thought he'd built up, and he didn't know how to fight it anymore. His sobs started to calm down, like she'd managed to command peace over the storm, and he could breathe again.

The moment the sobs subsided after the cathartic release, a heavy exhaustion swept in, and sooner than he thought he would, he started to feel it. The aching of every muscle. Every ligament. Every bone.

But he had so much to talk about. He knew they'd have questions. Larrel, Petrus, and David were still nearby, somewhere, though James had no perception of where.

Finally pulling his face away, he saw that Larrel was knelt down right beside them.

Already, meeting her eyes, his vision blurred again.

"James," Larrel said, her voice just as choked with emotion. "Come here."

James hardly moved before Larrel swooped in, hugging him even tighter than their mother. It elicited an involuntary grunt of pain, and she immediately recoiled, holding him up gently at the arms.

"Oh my gods," she blabbered, sounding like she was talking through tears and sniffles. "I'm so sorry. Are you-- that's a stupid question, I'm-- we-- you don't look so good. We should get you back inside. You don't look like you should've come out here in the first place. Let me help you--"

She wasn't even done with her sentence before she started lifting him up to his feet, and his mother came on the other side of him. His head spun as he was turned around, practically being pushed through the doors, his feet barely touching the ground.

Voices started overlapping.

"Which way?"

"To your left. Only one door to choose from."

"Which bed?"

"Bottom bunk."

"It's the nest. Can't miss it."

"Who are you by the way?"

"Bo. You can forget that for now. We'll talk more later."

James was being led to his bed. They were lying him down for him.

"He looks terrible."

"He's not that ugly."

"Robin!" several voices said in unison.

His body sank into the mattress, and he didn't realize how cold he was until his shoes were gently slid off and blankets were piled over him.

"How long did you say he was like this?"

"Didn't say, but it's been a little over a week since we got him out."

"I don't want to imagine him any worse."

"Is he getting better?"

"How long will that take?"

"What exactly did they do to him?"

"I'v never seen anything quite like this."

There were too many conversations going on at once. James was drifting. Drifting off again as everyone's voices created a loud white noise, words becoming less and less decipherable.

"Who did you say you were--?"

"A doctor?"

"So what happens now?"

"I don't think he's with us--"

Then a louder voice, above the others.

Bo.

"Let's take this outside."

All at once, all the voices stuttered to a stop. So many bodies left the crowded room, and all that was left behind were two.

His mother, at his bedside.

And Hild, right beside her.

With half-open eyes, desperately trying not to let exhaustion take him, he let himself study their faces now that they were close enough to see.

His mother looked more tired than he remembered, and her short hair had gone fully white, but she still had a youthful look to her eyes.

And Hild...

Standing straight with her hands folded, Hild scanned him with sharp eyes. Her expression softened and her posture relaxed when she studied his face.

"You're back," James said through a breath of relief.

Hild smiled warmly. "I assured you I would be."

James felt his eyes soften, but he didn't know how well it translated to his face. His eyes drew back to his mother, and for a moment, his throat got all tied up again.

He swallowed.

"Mom," he started. "You've... met Hild."

"I have," his mother answered. "You have found yourself some exceptional friends."

James tried to muster a smile.

"Many exceptional friends," he said sleepily. "And one exceptional partner."

His mother's eyebrows shot up and she looked to Hild with wide eyes. Evidently, Hild hadn't told her. He had a feeling that was the case, all things considered. He was glad he got to tell her first.

"You neglected to mention that," His mother said with a small laugh, but reached out and - before Hild could reject or consent - pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you," she said, just loud enough for James to make out. "Thank you for finding him. And finding us. And bringing him back to us. I don't think we'll ever be able to repay you."

Hild patted his mother's shoulder in her slightly awkward way. "There won't be any need for that," she said gently, "though the sentiment is appreciated." She carefully pulled away. "It was my pleasure to help."

James could tell that there were many more words trapped at the edge of his mother's tongue, but she held them back, and simply nodded, opting for:

"Well... we ought to leave you to rest, James," she said softly. She began to reach out to touch him, but hesitated, and pulled away. "We can talk later, when you're more awake."

James didn't know why his words lept getting knotted in his throat every time his mother addressed him directly.

"Okay," was all he managed to whisper out.

"Okay," his mother echoed quietly, offering him a small smile. But James could see how her eyes were creased with sadness and worry. It was a look she'd never been able to hide when they were children. It seemed that it hadn't changed.

But she'd changed in other ways. He was sure she'd changed in ways he didn't yet know.

From what he saw so far, though... she was... softer. As a child he remembered her more reserved nature, and her quiet, unassuming way of showing she cared. But this...

She seemed so open. It was disarming.

His mother met Hild's eyes and gestured towards the door. Glancing back at James, she let her worried eyes linger on him for just a few seconds before she stepped out of the room.

James felt himself slipping back into the familiar pit of exhaustion, and as he slowly let his eyes shut, he noticed Hild hadn't left the room.

But once his eyes were shut he couldn't seem to pry them back open.

There were so many emotions spilling out of him he didn't know what to do with them. It was almost as if the exhaustion was just as much his physical frame begging for rest as it was his mind being overloaded.

Barely present, he tried to speak to Hild.

"Thank you," he said, words slurring together. "For... bringing them back safely."

"Of course," she said softly, "now just let yourself sleep."

"Are you... going...?"

He was quickly losing the energy to push words out.

"I'm fine," Hild said with some fond exasperation. "James, just rest..."

And that was the last thing he consciously heard before his body forced him to do just that.

He was out.

They'd toasted to moving forward. Then came Lilya's announcement of Hild-Raj-Robin's return, and James was already on his feet and out the door in the literal blink of an eye. Caspar, a little stiff from sitting on the floor, trailed out of the room as well and lingered by the door, figuring he should stay out of the way for now.

It wasn't long before everyone was ushered in, James was brought straight back into the bedroom, and chaos seemed to break loose inside the little cottage. Per Bo's urging, most everyone settled in the main room.

Robin took charge of Cy and Lilya, and headed straight back outside to let the Rikks settle in without the added chaos of children. Both the girls were delighted to have Robin back, and Caspar watched with a fond smile as they eagerly asked to play hide and seek. The door closed behind them before Caspar could catch Robin's response.

While Jane and Hild lingered in the side room for a few moments longer, David and Bo stepped aside (as much as they could in the crowded space) to further discuss their current circumstances and the now-expanded-group's next steps.

Lyall, giving Caspar's side a small bump of the elbow, set off to likely greet the Rikks and introduce himself. Caspar waved a quick farewell.

His good friend smoothly inserted himself into Hild and Jane's already-ongoing conversation. Ever hospitable, Lyall expressed condolences for the abrupt journey out of the city and offered Jane any water or food, to which she politely declined. Then he teasingly addressed Hild and told her that she was on her own if she wanted anything, earning him an eye roll and small smack to the shoulder from his sister.

Larrel soon joined the three. It turned into a four-way conversation wherein she was finally brought into the loop about James and Hild. With wide eyes, Larrel lobbed a plethora of questions at Hild before sheepishly backtracking and slowing down a little.

Eventually, that turned into two separate discussions between Hild and Jane again, and Larrel and Lyall. The latter pair was far more animated as they introduced themselves.

Stepping around Mel and Raj, who were in the midst of catching up, Caspar murmured a warm, "Welcome back" to Raj and made his way to the designated kitchen area. Which was really just the two foot radius around the stove. The small space was already occupied by Bo and David. Caspar tried to make himself as small and non-intrusive as possible as he grabbed a bowl of soup.

From this vantage point, he noted Petrus standing quietly in the corner by the front door. Simply taking in everything as it all happened at once. Caspar wondered if the din of the crowded space was at all overwhelming for him-- Caspar found it a tad disorienting himself, and anticipated needing to step outside pretty soon.

For now, he opted to pour a second bowl and stuck a spoon in each soup, retraced his steps back the way he came, and wandered over to Petrus's corner.

Petrus didn't acknowledge him at first until he noticed Caspar was lingering. He seemed focused on the conversations going on around him, but when his attention snapped to Caspar, he flashed a polite smile.

"Oh," he said. "Hello. Caspar, right?"

Hild or Raj must have cleared up the matter of aliases on their way back. Good, nice.

"Yeah. Um...Petrus?" Caspar raised the bowls of soup a little. "Hungry at all?"

Petrus raised his eyebrows, but took one of the bowls with a nod.

"Very, actually," he said. "We've been eating very light on the road. I'm not accustomed to this much travel on a daily basis."

Eagerly, he started scooping up the soup, though it seemed he was trying to pace himself.

Caspar watched with some amusement as Petrus immediately tucked in. "You won't have to walk as much from here on out," he said before drinking some of the hot broth straight from his own bowl.

Pausing between sips of soup, Petrus nodded, looking up at Caspar like he was studying him.

"So I gathered. I saw the horses and the wagon," he said.

"It might just be a slightly tighter fit, is all," Caspar added. "In the wagon, that is."

Petrus nodded with his spoon in his mouth.

"Your leaders have been a bit vague about where we're going," he commented after swallowing. "'Far' and 'safe' are not the most assuring descriptors. I assume they're keeping you in the dark as well?"

It was a fair assumption, and not entirely off the mark actually.

Caspar tilted his head, conceding, "Admittedly, exact locations and/or coordinates have gone unmentioned thus far."

"I imagine secrecy is essential to your survival out here," Petrus said, and then after a moment's hesitation, added, "as mages."

His tone turned a little stiff, awkward maybe.

Caspar understood. Broaching the subject of mages always felt like a sort of taboo, like one couldn't really acknowledge it unless it was in hushed, even scornful tones, and in the privacy of familiar company.

Suffice to say, it was, more often than not, weird to talk about aloud.

"It's helpful, yeah," Caspar replied simply.

Petrus was quiet for a moment as he returned to his soup, digging into it once more.

"And... what kind of mage are you?" he asked after pausing on his food.

Caspar blinked at him. "Oh! Right. Sorry, no, I'm not..." He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm just here as a friend."

Something in Petrus's expression almost looked relieved, but still not open.

"Oh," he said. "Friend of whom?"

Caspar waved his spoon in Lyall's direction, still with Larrel at the other side of the room, then turned back to his soup as well. "Curly-haired fellow. Hild's brother. And everyone else, really, but he and I have been friends longest."

Petrus's eyes followed the direction of Caspar's spoon.

"I suppose... you know James as well, then," Petrus deduced aloud.

Caspar hummed. "Yeah, we're friends too."

"How long have you known him?" Petrus asked.

Glancing skyward, he counted back the months on his left hand. Then lost track as the weeks spent traveling blurred a bit, and settled for, "About half a year now, I think."

Petrus hummed, taking another sip of soup as he seemed to be caught up in a thought he didn't verbalize.

Idly stirring his spoon, Caspar noted but kept quiet. Eventually, after nearly finishing his soup, Petrus spoke up again.

"I know that... the James I saw briefly earlier is not the best representation of who he is on a regular basis," Petrus said slowly, like his words were carefully thought out. "I'm sure what he endured while in the kingdom plays a great part in... that."

There was a small, focused, pause before he continued.

"Would you say he's a good person?" Petrus asked.

Looking sideways at him, Caspar nodded once. "He is."

Petrus didn't answer, and merely looked back down into his soup. He looked deep in thought for a moment before he finished it off, leaving the bowl empty.

"So, what landed you in a group of mages?" Petrus asked. "Did they 'rescue' you too?"

Caspar thought back to the storm near Ruddlan. "You could say that, yeah." Tilting his bowl, he finished his soup as well, and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. "Was just coming off an encounter with some hunters. It was pretty well-timed, actually."

Petrus stared at Caspar, visibly thinking through the implications of Caspar's words.

"... Bounty hunters?" he asked. "Or mage hunters?"

The bodies in the darkened forest flashed in his mind. Caspar just stared back for a moment. "...Yes."

Petrus blinked.

"I see," he said, looking away. "Fortunate they rescued you, then."

Caspar scanned the room out in front of them. "Yup."

What followed was silence, and when Caspar glanced back at Petrus, it seemed Petrus was tuning into the conversations around them again, but as a passive observer.

It was a familiar position. Caspar rather liked it, standing just on the cusp of a social scene and simply listening in. It was most comfortable for him, and he could easily slip away from the side whenever he needed air.

Based on their conversations during the dinner back in King'a Peak, he felt Petrus was likely more on the sociable side.

Caspar hesitated, then quietly asked, "Want me to, um..." And he gestured to the bowl in Petrus's hands. "There's more, if you're still hungry, too."

"Oh," Petrus said, breaking out of his focused daze. "Ah... no, I'm done for now."

He handed the empty bowl to Caspar.

"Thank you."

Inclining his head, Caspar stacked the bowls. He nodded toward the table in the middle of the room, past Mel and Raj. "You can sit, take a load off. We'll be a here for a short bit."

Petrus hummed and nodded, turning to walk away.

"Thanks again, Caspar," Petrus said, and left it at that as he weaved through the room and took a seat at the table.

With just a slight nod in acknowledgement, Caspar found his roundabout way back to the kitchen area. As he cleaned off the dishes, he scanned the full room once more. Conversations had settled just a little. Quieter than before.

He caught sight of Lyall slipping out the front door, and he was reminded of Robin, keeping watch over the Ashlund kiddos outside. Since they'd just returned from what must have felt like a long week and a half, Caspar decided he'd relieve Robin from kid duty. He padded along the perimeter of the room once again.

Just before he could touch the doorknob, a hand brushed his shoulder.

"Hey, they said your real name's Caspar?" Larrel's voice piped up beside him.

He glanced over his shoulder, at first surprised, and turned to face her. "Um, yeah." Tucking his hands in his coat pockets, he idly tapped a heel to the floor as he quietly added, "Sorry about that, by the way."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Larrel said dismissively. "You didn't know who we were, then, anyway."

Caspar just shrugged a shoulder. Still felt bad for lying.

"Hild mentioned that you were traveling with James before you ran into her," Larrel said. "She said something about ranching? Cattle?"

"Ah. Right, that," Caspar said. Mr Gregor's ranch felt so far behind them now. "Uh, yes."

Larrel's face lit up with interest.

"So you two were cowboys, then?" she asked.

"I." He felt caught off guard by her visible interest. Realizing that she was most likely asking out of interest in just her brother's whereabouts, he relaxed a little and answered, "I suppose we were. Though I didn't make for a very good one."

"What about James?" she asked. "He was always good with animals as a kid."

With a small, fond grin as he thought back to the riding lessons, Caspar agreed, "He was far better at it."

Larrel hummed.

"How long did you end up working on the ranch for?" she asked.

He glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "I think... Maybe two weeks, about. He was there before I was."

"That's not very long," Larrel said. "Why so short?"

Ah. That was...its own nasty can of worms.

"Um." Caspar shuffled in place a little, trying not to spend too much time on an answer, but knowing that just a second's hesitation was probably still too long.

Larrel tilted her head.

"It was something bad, wasn't it?" she frowned.

He scratched behind his ear. "...Sort of."

"Well, you don't have to talk about it," Larrel said quickly. "It sounds like you've all been through a lot."

"Well-- I'm okay talking about it," he added, just as hastily. "I just-- I'm not sure how much-- It was only kind of bad-- I mean, that's not entirely true, it was pretty bad--"

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried again, "Someone recognized him, and it cut the job short."

Larrel looked to be thinking for a moment before it clicked.

"Ah," she said with a small nod. "I see." She glanced off towards the bedroom, where James was hopefully asleep. "Was it... mostly bad... for him?"

Following her gaze to the door, the hours spent weathering out the worst of the lumshade and carefully watching reddening wounds came back to him. Caspar sighed quietly. "Yeah."

"...Sorry," Larrel said lowly. "Maybe it's too much to talk about right now."

He glanced back down at Larrel, noting the excited light in her eyes had dimmed, and had to agree. She and her family were still in the midst of processing...a lot. Maybe those details were best held off for another time.

Clearing his throat a little after a long moment, he tried redirecting a little with, "How about you? Experience with animals at all?"

Larrel let out a weak laugh.

"Oh. Right," she said. "Well, that was really more of... his thing. I know how to ride a horse and care for one well enough but honestly, I'm really not the best with animals. I'm more of a... a people person."

He huffed a laugh. "You're in good company, then," he said, and tilted his head toward the front door, where Lyall had disappeared.

"Who, Lyall?" Larrel asked with a tilt of her head.

"Not a big animal person," Caspar confirmed, "unlike Hild."

"Ah," Larrel said. "At least I'm not alone, then."

She paused, and Caspar saw her eyes flit across the room to her mother, who was still speaking with Hild.

"He gets it from her," Larrel said a little quieter. "The... being good with animals."

Caspar followed her gaze to the other side of the room. At her shift in tone, he looked back to study Larrel.

"I didn't think seeing him again would be this..." Larrel trailed off quietly, her gaze drifting out the window.

"Sorry," she said quickly before the pause grew too long. "It's just... he looks so much like our dad before he passed. It's almost like seeing them both."

Caspar softened. Tilting his head, he tentatively asked, "Is it... Is that difficult?"

"I thought I'd never see him again," Larrel said, her brows pinching together. "And I grieved over him for years, thinking he was gone for good. And I thought I was over it. But now it's... I don't even know how to feel."

She looked to Caspar, conflicted emotions swirling in her eyes.

"I'm happy, but it hurts," she said, barely audible. "And I don't know what life's going to look like for us now. It's more than just James being back. Everything's different now. It's like starting all over again."

She paused briefly, only to sigh as she looked to the ground.

"My mother and I have done it before," she said softly. "I know we can do it again. But it doesn't make it any easier."

Leaning back by the door, Caspar slid down a little to be closer to her eye level. Gently and with deep sympathy, he said, "It's daunting, starting over."

"Is it wrong that I'm terrified?" Larrel whispered, like she didn't want others in the room to overhear. "It's not that I don't trust you guys--it's just..."

"You don't know us," he said, finishing that thought. He tried a reassuring smile. "It's alright to be scared. I-- The word of a near perfect stranger probably doesn't mean much, but I promise you that you won't have to figure this out all on your own."

Larrel was scanning the room again, eyes flitting from person to person before she looked back at Caspar with a small, tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks," she said, wearied, but sincere. "I guess, uh... well, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other more. The Ashlund siblings made it sound like we've got a long road ahead of us."

She let out a what sounded like a forced laugh.

"Or, less a road, and more a direction we're traveling. Kind of wish we were taking real paths though. The way here was quite a hike."

Right. Mountainous, and far less even than paved city streets.

They had to have been traveling since the crack of dawn, too, if only to get here faster.

Caspar mustered an amused grin. "The road's more metaphorical for us out here, yes." Quietly, he cleared his throat and added, "But until then, you can just rest up for a bit."

"True," Larrel said, stretching her neck to one side. "I don't suppose, uh, that healing magic can help with sore muscles, can it?"

She laughed, a little more genuine this time as she stretched out her arms.

Caspar felt himself smile a little too. He shrugged and said lightly, "You'll have to ask a healing mage."

"Oh, right," Larrel said. "That's-- well, I should probably wait until later, though. We could rest too. It'd be nice to sit, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, we've got some seats free at the table," he offered, gesturing now toward Petrus already sitting there. "If you feel like trying to catch up on some sleep, we could set something up."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep just yet," Larrel said with a small smile. "Too much on my mind. But I've been smelling that soup this whole time, and I think I've finally worked up quite the appetite. So I'll start there."

"A good plan," he agreed warmly, straightening. "Help yourself, then. Enjoy it too, Bo's an excellent cook."

"Will do."

With an exchange of small nods and polite smiles, they then quietly bid each other farewell for now. Having reached full social capacity for probably the rest of the day, Caspar slipped outside.

With the bustle of the cottage sealed inside, he drew in a slow breath and settled a moment into the quiet of the woods around him.

Near-quiet. Somewhere off to the side, he could hear little feet scurrying about through leaves and Lilya's delighted giggles as Lyall loudly counted down from ten.

With a fond smile, Caspar tilted his ears out toward the trees. The forest fell quiet when Lyall reached 'one', and different sets of feet (and paws) padded around in search of the small ones.

Caspar glanced at the woodpile on the porch next to him. He figured he may as well be useful while out here, and took his axe from where it leaned on the side of the cottage.

Locating suitable wood for the stove, chopping it up, and carrying it all back took him well into evening.

He had to wonder again about the probability of even meeting the Rikks in the first place. Because, really, what the hell were those odds? If he was more religious, he might go so far as to believe it was by some divine design.

What would become of the Rikks' blacksmithing business, since they had to cut and run? Starting anew would take time as with any business, but there was always a need for their skillset, wherever they'd go. Given the fact that the palace was a direct client, too, back in the city boded well for their future. They wouldn't have to wait very long for business, probably, and that was good.

Caspar had only the chance to talk with James's siblings so far. Larrel, he noted, was easier to read, and far more open with her thought-processes than either James or Petrus.

Being able to look at James, then Larrel and Jane shortly after, the physical similarities were even more striking, and Caspar was perplexed that he didn't notice sooner at the dinner. He could see hints of their mother in James's eyes. Apparently, though, James looked uncannily like his father. Not much more that was new to imagine there, then.

The Rikks weren't used to traveling almost non-stop for weeks on end. There would be room in the wagon, as he'd said with Petrus, but it would start to feel pretty cramped after awhile.

It won't be for forever, though.

What the main base would look like? What would a new life there look like, if he could even manage it? He couldn't build things the way he used to. He still carved, sure, but the quality of his work was quite a bit worse, and he'd have to work far slower to ensure some semblance quality.

He'd manage on maintenance and/or repair work, he supposed, as he had the past years traveling.

He tried imagining a new home, without Jack in it. The image felt nearly empty, which hardly felt fair to the friends he'd somehow made recently, but... How could he have the audacity to even consider a new life without his kid?

His promise to James prodded at him again.

With the last load hoisted up over his left shoulder, he was greeted by the girls waiting in the wagon for him on the way back.

Lilya bounced excitedly and regaled him with her success in hide and seek that afternoon. Cy butted in a few times to correct any exaggerations or misconceptions. Caspar listened quietly but with sincere interest as he helped Cy down to the ground, and let Lilya climb onto his back for a short ride to the front door.

It was almost the same. Lilya was just smaller and talked a great deal more in his ear than Jack did.

After opening the door, Cy picked up two logs from the pile and led the way in. Caspar set the rest down. He was honestly grateful when Lilya insisted on helping too, and handed her just one log after swinging her down to the ground. Just a little sore now from her weight on his shoulder and side, he stiffly brought up the rear and shut out the evening chill behind him.

Larrel seemed a far more social creature than he himself could ever hope to be. Lingering by the table, she and David and Raj were all engaged in a three-way conversation. She appeared to carry the conversation for the most part. Natural, though, and listened too when her father brought up anything new or when Raj had a thoughtful response.

In the far back, Bo thanked Cy and Lilya for their help and set a new log in the stove. Since their number had expanded exponentially with the subgroup's arrival, their cooking endeavors expanded from the narrow counter in the back out to the kitchen table. With a chair pushed aside and her hair messily tied back, Hild stood cutting vegetables. Lyall leaned on the opposite side of the table, writing in a long, messy scrawl that no one could ever hope to read, and spoke breezily with his sister as they both worked.

Caspar hung his coat by the door and stepped aside to the empty corner on his left, where his bag and folded-up blanket were set.

As he settled back and grabbed his sketchbook, Caspar noticed Petrus quietly observing the room in the same way as before. He wondered for a moment, as Mel now kindly approached the young man, if he'd assumed wrong about Petrus's sociability. This was a new situation, though, and hardly normal in any way, so this wouldn't be a totally fair representation of how Petrus normally was anyhow.

Caspar hoped that Petrus would be able to trust some of the mages soon.

Jane was notably absent. Possibly resting in the other room, she seemed tired earlier.

Opening to the last few blank pages, Caspar began to carefully sketch out the faces currently present.

Larrel's face shape was quite similar to James's. So were her brows, but she was a little more outwardly expressive with them. Larrel had more her mother's mouth and eye shapes, though.

David's hair was quite a bit more textured than his son's. Caspar didn't have any colors on him, but he mentally noted that David's complexion was akin to a dark oak. Petrus had longer hair than his father, though, and not nearly as grey. He had a sparse scattering of freckles here and there, too.

Cy quietly sat down on the floor next to him. With a small smile, Caspar lifted his arm, and she happily scooted closer and tucked herself into his side. She pointed to the sketchbook he held propped up on his knees.

"Mr Petrus's face is more like a circle," she whispered.

Caspar looked between the page and Petrus. "Huh," he said quietly, "so it seems."

They sat drawing together for a little while. Cy preferred to take turns rather than draw at the same time, so Caspar obliged. Life studies devolved into a sort of improvised picture book.

A very serious storyteller indeed, Cy emphasized the need to have a structured story. But when Caspar suggested a flock of dragons for no real reason other than that he thought it'd be fun, she couldn't deny the delight in the concept. They ended up simply drawing dragons of all shapes and sizes.

When they reached the very last page of the book, Caspar handed it off to Cy. "Go ahead and fill that however you like."

Though taking the sketchbook, Cy cast him an intensely assessing look that strongly reminded him of Lyall. "Where're you going?" she asked.

"I'm just checking on Mr James." He reshaped the blanket roll and tucked it behind her for some cushioning against the wall. "I'll be right back."

He was intercepted on his way to the door.

Hooking an arm around Caspar's, Lyall tugged him back around and toward the front door instead. "There you are," he said breezily. "Gods, can't seem to ever catch you in one spot long enough to say hi."

Turned around faster than he could realize, Caspar helplessly stumbled alongside his friend. He pointed behind them. "Uh, hi. I was just--"

"Mrs Rikk is in there with him," Lyall said reassuringly, "James'll be fine."

Right.

Yes, of course. James had his family.

Caspar let Lyall lead the way out onto the front porch. Closing the door behind them, Lyall added gently, "You can check on your friend in a minute."

Caspar side-stepped away from the door, and shuffled in place with his hands in his pockets. There was an air of Impending to all of this that he wasn't sure what to do with, other than possibly run far away.

The sun was low, and the slight wind in the trees turned chillier. Lyall stood next to him, shoulder to almost-shoulder. Caspar noted he neglected to bring a coat.

"The safehouse filled up quite quickly," Lyall commented. "And you usually need some air after an over-exposure to crowded places."

Shrugging, Caspar scanned their surroundings. "Hence the walk."

"A very long walk," Lyall added. "You okay?"

Caspar glanced back to his friend. "Yeah, I'm okay."

The look Lyall gave him was rather flat, which felt unwarranted, and he said, "Judging by how much our woodpile grew exponentially since I last checked it the past few hours, I'd guess that there's a lot on your mind."

Huffing a dry laugh, Caspar looked away again. "A lot's happening. Lot to think about."

There was a faint grin in Lyall's voice as he asked, "Want to talk about any of it?"

Setting his hands on his hips, Caspar let out a breath and watched it mist away. "I..."

He felt he did fine parsing through his own thoughts privately. The still-lingering disbelief of everyone's survival, the surprise reunion, trying to mentally prepare for what was to come, everything was a tad overwhelming and sometimes heavy. But he was managing alright.

Everyone else was working through everything too.

Lyall stayed quiet, waiting patiently. Since the mages found them by Ruddlan, Caspar noticed his friend did that more lately.

He lightly bumped a hand to Lyall's shoulder. "I'm good," he said softly. "Don't worry."

Lyall actually snorted at this. "My dear friend, I have every reason to worry."

Caspar frowned a little. "Wh--"

"Cas." Pointedly, Lyall gestured broadly at his chest.

He looked down at himself. "Oh. Right." Bullet wound, and whatnot.

"Does it still hurt at all?" Lyall went on. "It's hard to tell if it's that or any of your other mementos."

Caspar shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from rubbing at the fragments in his shoulder.

It briefly occurred to him that every doctor in their number very likely had at least one complete look at him. He trusted every one of them with everything he had, though, and decided to take some comfort in that.

Perhaps a little stubbornly, Caspar still insisted, "S'fine."

There was a hint of doubt in Lyall's eyes. "Your most truthful assessment would be more helpful," he said with lightness in his tone. Then he waited.

With his arms folded across his chest, so did Caspar.

The Ashlunds could perhaps talk circles around him, but he could just as well beat them at the quiet game under nearly any circumstance. Inevitably, Lyall couldn't simply stand there anymore and folded first.

"You know," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and tilting his chin up, "you'd make for the subject of a very interesting case study. Surviving a bullet wound to the chest was quite miraculous, to say the least. Any and every detail should not be left out of such a case. Circumstance and context, for instance, the exact order of the exact steps during the surgery, not to mention the pre-existing medical history of the subject, and any lingering side effects afterwards..."

Caspar just nodded dumbly as he listened, hoping that Lyall rambling rings around them would take them somewhere eventually.

"Something of note is how you seemed to handle the anesthetic quite well. Though gods forbid we'll ever need to use it again, it's good for future reference," Lyall said. Seemingly a little more an aside to himself than anything, however. He then turned an assessing eye back to Caspar and asked, "That would have been your...second time, correct?"

Of course Lyall would keep track of such obscure details.

Pursing his lips, Caspar just nodded.

"What do you remember when you first woke up after the Carter Debacle?" Lyall pressed.

Brows furrowed, Caspar felt rather bewildered as he tried thinking back.

Lyall had already asked during the recovery at the bunker. Caspar couldn't remember much through the haze then, and Lyall hadn't pressed any further either. So bringing it up again now struck him as quite odd.

Still, he tried to reach back into his foggy long-term.

"...You were there," Caspar started slowly, "and so were Hild and Mel. Uh, Bo too."

Was it night then? Day? It was hard to tell in the bunker. What had Bo been doing in the infirmary room? Hild wasn't there long.

"Do you remember any words exchanged?" Lyall asked.

Was there soup? He remembered soup. Maybe that was Bo.

The events of that day/night were like a still-fresh oil painting that someone smeared beyond recognition. He could pick out certain parts, but the colors ran into each other.

Why ask again? Why now, of all times?

They had been talking. Carter's name was thrown around quite a bit. Before even that, though... Caspar recalled a deep distress that he'd rather not revisit.

Leaning closer into view, Lyall tentatively asked, "How about the name 'Jack'? Ring any bells?"

Caspar's mind ground to a halt. "How did..."

Was that where Lyall was taking them here? Caspar realized he must have said something while he was out of it, but how much did he say?

"That was the first and only time I heard mention," Lyall added. "I, um..." Trailing off, he seemed at a loss for anything else to say.

Even as time steadily drew distance between him and his kid, it was still hard to talk about. It still hurt, he still ached for something that he knew was gone forever.

Looking at his friend but not quite meeting his eyes, Caspar tightened his grip on himself a little and ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought of where to even begin.

The basics, he supposed.

"Jack," Caspar began slowly in a sort of weary sigh, "was my kid."

Lyall stared up at him, almost blankly, as his mind ran through every possible explanation, every implication. His searching expression fell when the full weight of it all registered, and he averted his gaze to the forest.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Caspar looked up to the treetops and reminded himself that he trusted Lyall, and all their friends. With everything he had, with his life, he trusted them.

And Eindride deserved to be remembered.

Drawing in a breath, Caspar murmured, "The wilds."

"...Manning," Lyall said, like some of the scattered pieces were finally clicking into place.

Caspar nodded. "It was still warm enough for rain. Jack just wanted to play outside a little longer, before the storm hit full force. We were right there by the cabin, and the rain felt kind of nice, so." He shrugged. "I figured, why not?"

As the events began to come back to him in full, a mist rolled into the woods of the Moonlight Kingdom around him.

He was North again.

Jack laughed and shouted as he splashed through puddles, as big and loud as he could. His boots and trousers were all muddy, and his cheeks red from the cold. His smile had a gap from where he just lost a tooth. The kid hoped to grow in a fang, the way he thought werewolves did.

Caspar recalled feeling tired after a long hunt. The still-healing wound in his leg ached from tracking the whole day, and the fact that they returned empty-handed wasn't thrilling either. Jack's joy in that moment was infectious, though, and Caspar soon forgot his own disappointments as he watched him dash about.

The tiny cabin was just twenty paces away. They were home. He thought they were safe, so he set down his axe and hunting bow, and they started an impromptu splashing contest.

Especially tired after their game of chase, he eventually had to insist they head inside. "To dry off," he said, and grinned when Jack groaned loudly in protest, "before we catch anything from all this cold and wet."

And he turned his back, just for a second.

The kid yelled in alarm just as Caspar caught the flash of the pistol in the trees.

Jack was gone before Caspar could do anything.

The bang jolted him back to the present. He remembered the young Hansen revealing himself shortly after, eyes wide with what Caspar now realized was pure horror at his own miscalculation.

"He was in shock too," Caspar recounted, voice low, "didn't close in right away."

He couldn't look Lyall's way, let alone meet his eyes now. So he kept his gaze glued to the floor.

"But that didn't matter. Not to me, not in that moment. Jack was-- Jack was gone."

His voice broke. A hand brushed his arm. Caspar instinctively tensed, then sagged when Lyall brought an arm around his back.

"Gods," Lyall uttered, heartbroken, "I'm so sorry, Cas."

Sniffing loudly, Caspar wiped the wet from his eyes and tried his best to smile. "He wasn't originally mine, you know," he said, trying for a slightly lighter tone.

Because he couldn't let Jack's life be defined by its tragic end. He couldn't only remember the bad, because there was so much more good to hold onto.

"Found him in the Outlands, on my way east. Or, more rather, he found me."

Lyall huffed with amusement, albeit a bit dampened. "Dragons, I was wondering about that."

Caspar laughed. "He, um, came out of nowhere. Latched onto me because he recognized my face from some sign. Wanted to help, I guess, since his dad was a mage."

"Oh, no way." Lyall grinned warmly. "What kind?"

Draping an arm around his friend's shoulders, Caspar let himself look up again as he thought back. He and Lyall, subconsciously, both leaned more into each other's sides.

"I don't think Jack even knew," he said with a huffed laugh. "And I never got to meet his old man, so."

"Did Jack have...?"

Caspar shook his head. "And if he did, he might've been a late bloomer."

Lyall hummed. "Very possible. Hey, Cas."

With a second's hesitation, he glanced down and met his friend's eyes once more. Lyall stared back up at him, gaze warm and full of an understanding that went far deeper than words could go.

"I'm really sorry about how it ended," he said gently. "And..." He grinned faintly. "I'm realizing we've got a lot more catching up to do."

Caspar managed a slight, yet sincere, smile and said, "I'd have to agree."

He dreaded it a little, still felt unsure now about this conversation, even. Then he reminded himself that it didn't have to be everything right away. He could take it slow, because there wasn't a time frame for opening up, for trying to heal.

Though Lyall nudged them in this direction, Caspar chose to open up and decided he was kind of glad for it. The matter of Jack's memory felt slightly less like the secret it never needed to be, now that he'd confided in his old friend.

It was still hard, and gods did it hurt like hell. Two years later, Caspar figured it always would. But, bearing it now with a close friend at his side, it didn't feel as...heavy, he supposed.

Maybe he should take his own advice a little more often.

Disoriented, Jane found her eyelids fluttering as she stared up at a bunk above her. It had been decades since she'd slept in a bunk bed, but the foreign setting only threw her for a moment as reality washed back on her like a crashing wave.

For years, she'd been haunted by the guilt-ridden question: Am I responsible for driving my son away from home? Am I responsible for his subsequent death?

And for the first time in sixteen years she had an answer, but not to both.

Her son was alive, but far from well. Vividly, she remembered how he froze when he saw her.

It was so hard not to see Allen when she'd looked into his eyes. He looked just like him. Now, fully grown, he was the spitting image of his father, and Jane couldn't deny that there was a small part of her that felt uneasy. As if, in some way, she was seeing the dead.

Except, James didn't look like his father in his prime: young, healthy, happy, and with an indistinguishable light in his eyes.

He was hurt. He was wounded. He had scars that looked long since healed that couldn't have only been acquired in the last month. There was a weariness in his eyes beyond his years - something befitting of an old man awaiting death. Not her son.

Watching him crumble under her touch tore her heart in two.

There was rage. Boiling, seething anger at the man who did this to her son. She'd been too appalled by Aaron's confession to even know what to say, but in that moment, she wished to go back in time so she could take vengeance on behalf of her son.

But his tears had been like a wet blanket thrown over the fire.

Sixteen years ago, she'd failed as a mother. She'd withdrawn in her grief and neglected James in the most turbulent, traumatic part of his childhood, and it launched him out to gods knew where, only to land him in a prison cell where he was unimaginably tortured. By her neighbor.

The last time she felt this helpless was when Allen died. When he looked into her eyes and urged her to run, while the both of them knew it was possible none of them would make it out alive.

At the time, she would've given anything to take his place. Allen had always been the better parent. He'd been better with children. More patient. More kind. More present. She's convinced herself he would've done better, and it was too late when she realized she needed to do better. By that point, James was gone.

David brought stability while her family was falling apart. She wished every day that James had gotten the chance to get to know him outside of their first few, brief interactions. She wished she'd known how to explain to him as a child how she was doing it for him and Larrel more than she was herself. She wanted stability for them. So they could build a new life together again. So they could heal.

Jane slipped off the side of the bed and slowly stepped across the room on light feet, but with a heavy heart. There was a crate by James's bed, indicating that people must've often sat by it to comfort him. To be with him in his pain.

Jane knew she couldn't make this about herself. This was about James.

Her son needed her.

She was grateful he had made friends - however recent - who had gone to great lengths to save him. To save their family. To escort them across Nye just to make sure they stayed safe. She was grateful they were fortunate to all be alive, and fed, with their basic needs met.

But as she slowly sat down on the crate, she couldn't help but feel like this was all wrong.

James belonged back home. In their house. In the room she'd always saved for him. In the bed meant to be his. And she knew, in her head, that it could never happen, escpecially not now, not ever. But in her heart...

Her brows furrowed as she watched James turn his head to the side. He shifted his shoulders abruptly, less like he was turning, and more like he was jerking away from something. As he moved, he let out a pained whine, and she couldn't help but hear the waver and think of him weeping. Weeping in her arms as she helplessly wished she knew what to do to make it all better.

But she knew she couldn't fix this.

James continued to toss, turn, and sometimes thrash around in his sleep. With each sudden movement he would groan, or whimper, or grunt in pain. And every time he did, the painful reality sunk in more and more.

The road to recovering was going to be long for him. For all of them.

"I'm so sorry I failed you, James," she whispered, her throat tight around her words. "I'm so sorry you didn't feel like you could stay."

She knew he was asleep, but the words came out like a whispered rehearsal.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't miss you," she said as tears welled up in her eyes. "I've always loved you, and I still do."

Lips pressed tightly together, she tried to push down the wave of sorrow that tempted to pull her under. She knew she couldn't let herself get carried away with it if she was going to be strong for him.

She let herself feel it, but she didn't let it overtake her this time.

Closing her eyes, she took in a slow, shaky breath, and let the tears flow down her cheeks. She only wished she could've told James that sooner. Then maybe he wouldn't have ended up so--

James's eyes shot wide open and he threw his arms out to either side, like he was grabbing for something to steady himself. Jane offered her arm, but in his scrambling, he missed her, and as he started to kick away blankets, she realized he didn't seem fully aware of her presence.

Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and his breathing was erratic and labored. Though his expression was painted with terror, it was equally painted with visible pain. He'd resorted to gripping the sides of the bedframe so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and Jane could tell that it was causing him strain.

There were so many bandages peeking out from under his clothing. She dreaded to imagine how mummified he was underneath.

He had to be in constant pain. That alone was cause for nightmares.

Swallowing down the lingering knot in her throat, Jane tried to lean into view, not wanting to startle him.

"James," she said softly. "It's me, Jamie. Your mother. You're alright, now. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."

And if they tried they'd have to go through her.

The tension in his arms withered at the sound of her voice, and she couldn't tell if he was withdrawing or coming back to reality. With a look she could only describe as wholly, entirely lost, he turned to look at her, and met her eyes.

She mustered a small, sad smile.

"I'm sorry you had a nightmare," she said softly. "But it's over now."

James didn't respond right away. In fact, he barely responded at all. He looked like he was staring through her, then past her, and the look in his eyes was equal parts grieved and miserable. She felt antsy as the silence grew louder, and heavier. She could hear James's breaths begin to slow, but his grip on the sides of the bed seemed persistently tense.

Allen was always good with words. He always knew what to say. She tried to imagine what he would say now, or if he'd say anything at all. What would he say to their son?

She felt so weak and vulnerable. She didn't have anything to offer him... nothing but her weak and vulnerable self.

That would have to be enough. For now.

"I'm here," she said softly. "Right beside you."

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. She watched as the cloudiness seemed to fade, and he finally locked his eyes on her with focus. Like he actually saw her. Almost immediately, his eyes grew misty, and finally, his grip on the sides of the bed relented.

Gods, she wished she knew what was going on in his head.

He slouched, visibly tense from pain and discomfort, and he wavered.

"Why don't you lie back down?" she suggested gently. "You don't have to sit up right now."

He didn't move.

"It's alright," she said, trying to assure him. "You don't have to move right now. You need your rest."

A few seconds delayed, he slowly lowered himself back down onto the bed, lying down heavily. She noted he avoided making eye contact. She hesitated, and let the silence drag on once more, however uncomfortable it made her feel.

She had so mamy questions. She longed to know what had happened in James's life since he was gone. She wanted to know who he was now, because he clearly wasn't the shy, innocent young boy she remembered.

She wondered if he was even ready to talk about. About any of it. She didn't know how fragile his mental state was - and after what he endured, she held no blame for him if he wasn't able to talk about any of it.

And yet, it nagged at her.

There was an elephant in the room left unaddressed, and she knew he had to feel it to.

With a deep breath, she moved to open her mouth.

"I never should have left," James said, before she had said a word.

His voice was quiet. Hoarse, and just above a whisper.

It caught her off guard. Her brows knit together, and so did James's.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes welling up with tears. "I'm sorry I--"

"No." Janes reached out to gently set her hand on his shoulder, but saw his whole body tense up and flinch away before she even touched him. That only seemed to make him cry more.

Heart aching, she pulled her hand away.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing her voice to be steady. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, James. I'm sorry you felt like you had to carry the burden of our family alone. You were just a child, and that wasn't your responsibility. It wasn't then, and it isn't now. And it's not your fault. What happened to your father is not your fault. What happened to us is not your fault. I never expected you to be invincible for me, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you as a mother. I pulled back when you needed me most, and I regret that I did."

Pressing her lips together, she swallowed down a lump growing in her throat.

"I love you, James. And I want to be a part of your life again. I want to make it up to you. I'm going to do whatever I can to do so. Starting now," she said, feeling her eyes start to mist over. As her own vision grew foggy, she realized there were tears streaming down both of their faces.

"Whatever it is you feel you have to apologize for," Jane said. "I forgive you. Ten hundred times over, I forgive you. I just hope that you can forgive me."

James had never looked so transparent, and so miserable to be so. She could tell he was desperately trying to push back the tears that kept streaming down, but clearly was past the point of being able to. Jane couldn't help her own tears, either, despite what she'd told herself about staying strong.

But tears were a sign of strength too.

"It's alright, James," she said softly, though her voice was choked up. "Cry. You get to cry."

As if he needed permission, she watched with pain in her heart as the tension in his whole body slowly released, and he started to weep. Not violently, or loudly, or with thrashing and screaming - but quiet, weary, and slow. As if he were letting out a long, pained, sigh.

She couldn't help the questions that passed through her head as she watched her son, deeply wounded and hurting, cry tears for undoubtedly, more than just the pain of separation from his family.

What have they done to you?

Who they were, she didn't even quite know for sure, but she knew Aaron had his part, and the kingdom, too.

She wiped her eyes, feeling her own tears naturally subside as James's shaky weeping continued on.

He took in a deep breath, breaking the pattern of shudders.

"You're not angry?" he rasped.

The question was so sincere, and yet heartwrenchingly revealing.

"Not in the slightest," she answered in gentle earnest.

"Dissapointed?"

Jane leaned in, and carefully took his hand. She could feel him recoil for a moment, but then received her touch, gently - timidly - wrapping her hand with his.

Her heart twisted. She could see the shame he carried, and it wounded her. But she could also see that just maybe, there was still some of the son she always knew still in there, under all the pain and hurt.

"I'm not dissapointed in you," she said even softer. "I was always proud of you, James. Since you were a boy. I was proud of you for being gentle. And kind. And patient in ways we never even taught you to be. I was proud of you for always seeing the best in others, even when they didn't deserve it."

She swallowed down another knot forming in her throat and squeezed his hand.

"I'm so happy you're here," she said. "And that you're okay. Don't think for a moment that I'd rather be in King's Peak than here with you."

James's weeping had begun to subside, and his breathing returned to a steady up and down under the layers of blankets. With puffy, still-teary eyes, he looked down at their hands, still avoiding her gaze.

Brows pinched together tightly, he clenched his jaw and let out a faint sigh through his nose.

There were a few seconds of silence that passed by.

"But I--" he said, his voice wavering up and down. "I left you. I left you and Larrel when you were getting married to David and--"

"You were eleven," Jane couldn't help but interject. "A child, who was scared and grieving the death of his father, and the death of everything he knew."

Lips trembling, James pressed on anyway.

"--I told--" he started. "I promised--"

But his voice cracked, and he seemed to give up, moving to something else.

"How could you forgive me?" he asked, tears flowing down his cheeks again. "How could you-- after everything we went through--"

"James," Jane said, squeezing his hand once more, as it was the only physical comfort she had to offer.

He waited for her to continue, but she waited until he looked up at her. It took several long seconds before he even dared to flick a gaze at her, but quickly looked away.

"Can you look at me?" she asked as gentle as possible.

James didn't look up at first, but after several moments of visible hesitation, he finally met her eyes.

"I forgive you," she said.

A pause.

She rested her other hand over his, tenderly cupping his hand between hers.

"You need to forgive yourself, Jamie. You're a part of the family, and you always have been. Still are, and always will be. No matter the time or distance between us."

She took in a deep breath, and offered him a small, earnest smile.

"But we're not apart any longer," she said. "And we'll figure it out in our own time. What family looks like together, now. It's a lot of change again, but I think this time, it's for the better. Because I get you."

Smile broadening just a little, she dared to lean over, and gently pecked a kiss on his forehead.

"And I think I get to be a little selfish that way," she said. "Since I'm your mother."

Pulling away, she found she couldn't quite read the look on James's face, but he seemed uncomfortable.

Doubting, she tilted her head in concern.

"Was that alright?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I should've asked before--"

"No," James said, barely audible. "It's... it's alright."

Brows still pinched together, Jane simply nodded.

"Okay," she said quietly, choosing to take him at his word.

Another lull of silence passed between them, and she couldn't help but wonder how much of the silence was filled with internal conversation on James's end.

Deciding not to wait this time, she gently prodded.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," she said. "Was there more you wanted to say?"

She was growing to anticipate the seconds of delay before he responded.

"I don't know," he said faintly. "There's... so much."

Jane nodded solemnly with understanding.

"We have a lot to catch up on, I gather," she said softly.

"I don't think you'll be proud of me when you hear it," James said.

Jane squeezed his hand once more.

"Why don't you leave that up for me to decide?"

When James didn't respond, she continued.

"Nothing you tell me will change the way I feel about you," Jane persisted. "Okay?"

James swallowed. He didn't look convinced, but Jane didn't want to fight it.

One battle at a time.

"Okay," James said, his voice small.

Jane waited a moment, simply sitting with his hand in hers. James seemed to be gradually fading out again, fighting against letting his droopy eyelids close.

"Are you still tired?" she asked softly. "Would you like to rest more?"

The simple question seemed to pose a significant conflict, as James did not respond right away, and his brows knit together tightly. Perhaps he was never given the option, but was merely given the order to rest.

Finally, he nodded.

"Alright, then," Jane said with a gentle pat of her hand over James's before she pulled it away. "You get your rest now. And I'll be right here, okay, Jamie?"

"Okay," James said barely audible.

And she watched as he again drifted back to sleep - all the while hoping that this one wouldn't be interrupted by another horror in the night.

They left early in the morning, having already packed most everything the night prior. The trees were still a deep blue in the crisp, early light. Traveling now as such a large group, Hild anticipated, would take slightly longer than before.

Though spacious, the wagon still only had so much space to spare. It looked crowded from where she sat on Penumbra's back. An additional family of four and the provisions to accommodate them as well tended to have that effect.

It was during dinner at the little cottage that their successful extraction efforts fully registered for her. After dinner preparations, she'd taken a seat on the floor by Caspar and Lyall's children to eat and catch up with them. During a lull in their conversation, she scanned the room.

Everyone was scattered across the main living room. At the table, in the corners, by the stove. Mostly quieter now, with mouths mostly full, but still together, focused on one another.

Safe.

Relief rushed her, stealing her composure. She had to set aside her plate for a moment and try to discretely wipe at her eyes. Catching her slight shakiness, Caspar pulled her into a side-hug, and Lyall filled the space close next to her.

"You did it," Caspar murmured encouragingly.

"Welcome back," her brother said, setting a warm hand on her shoulder. "We missed you here."

They managed to help her feel more at peace, yet caused her to unravel even further, which she found mildly irritating.

That strange sense of ease, even as they pushed on with the city still looming somewhere behind them, persisted now into the morning. By 7 AM, the sun had fully risen, casting long bars of shadows across the forest floor.

At the front of the wagon, Bo made a few light remarks, lifting some of the...nuanced, slightly inexplicable tension that lingered around them. Lyall was predictably quick to jump into conversation as well, welcoming Larrel as well, who was happy to chat the morning away.

Caspar pulled Eir alongside the wagon at one point. Cy took his outstretched hand in both of hers, and he easily lifted her from the wagon to sit on the saddle in front of him. Eir kept pace there, though, as Caspar then checked in on Petrus.

Elliot trailed behind the wagon, still tethered to the back at a comfortable distance. Hild had to look around his bobbing head and a few stacked crates to get a better view of James. Though still tired and not fully present (likely due to chronic pain and discomfort), he looked healthier than he did when they bid each other a temporary goodbye. Hild made a note to try to visit with him when they rest for the afternoon.

Raj's horse kept pace more to the front of the wagon while Raj quietly visited with his sister.

When Hild instinctively glanced over her shoulder to check for Robin, it occurred to her suddenly that they potentially neglected to mention his other set of abilities to the Rikks.

In the same instant her eyes landed on Robin's wolven form, there were what Hild could only describe as an utterly terrified scream (Petrus) and various shouts of alarm (Larrel) from the back of the wagon.

The horses were more startled by Petrus's reaction than Robin.

Robin froze in his tracks, tail held stiff, and glanced off a little awkwardly as Lyall jumped in to explain and ease their fears. David was quick to try to smooth things over too, apologizing for the outburst, and assuring them that it was alright and they can simply move along. And so they did. Poor Petrus still seemed wary, and Larrel merely fascinated now that she was past the initial shock. Jane, for her part, was mildly surprised but otherwise unperturbed.

The sun crawled ever higher until noon. They stopped to allow the horses a break, and for everyone to stretch their legs as rations and water canteens were passed out.

After tending to Elliot and grabbing some food for herself, Hild joined James and Mrs Rikk in the back of the wagon. They ate together in mostly quiet. James's pace was still rather sluggish, but he was eating more now than he was over a week ago. Hild opted to stay quiet for now, and simply made a mental note with immense relief.

Larrel soon rejoined them. Conversation picked up quickly and naturally with her around, and they got around to the subject of Hild's time spent in Needle Point.

"Oh!" Larrel said with a giddy smile, leaning forward with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. "Tell me everything. I want to know all the details of when you first met."

Hild glanced sideways at James. His focus was fixed mostly on his food still.

"It was, despite some of the surrounding circumstances, a rather common way to meet someone," Hild said to Larrel. "Through a friend."

"Caspar, right?" Larrel asked.

"Yes. Since Calder and I were friends before, I invited the two to stay for a night--"

"Woah, woah, woah," Larrel said, shaking her hands in front of her. "You're moving too fast. What was he like when you met him with Caspar? What were they doing? Where were you exactly?"

Oh. Apparently, she really meant 'everything'.

Hild drew her legs up to her chest and folded her hands over her knees. "Alright," she said slowly as she lined up all the details in her head. "I was visiting the general store in the center of town. It was noon. If you would like the exact time of day, I can consult my personal notes, but that's been packed away for now, so it wouldn't be entirely convenient."

"Oh, it's alright, it's alright," Larrel said quickly. "You can keep going."

Inclining her head, Hild continued: "It was in the middle of bartering with the store owner that I recognized an old friend of my brother's when he came for...medical supplies, I believe. He at first didn't recognize me, however, and practically fled the store when I tried approaching.

"I followed him out to speak with him, but was intercepted by his unexpected traveling companion. Once my true identity was established, Calder's companion was introduced as Matt."

Hild paused.

"Excuse my bluntness, but I initially decided I didn't care for this 'Matt' fellow. It seemed he was in a fight recently, and he refused to show his face in public. We were strongly distrustful of each other, and I was concerned that Caspar was unwittingly getting himself into yet another, life-endangering mess. It turns out I was right, of course, he was far from safe. But I quickly realized later that same evening that he was never in danger of his new 'friend'-- a term I apply rather loosely here since they had only known each other for several days by that point.

"On the contrary, this 'Matt' fellow seemed to care very deeply for Calder's wellbeing. The first thing we agreed upon was that Calder was in dire need of rest. Then we gave each other the benefit of the doubt, and he accepted my help closing the wound in his side.

"They left town in the morning. Not long after did I have the pleasure of meeting the cause of 'Matt's injuries. A bounty hunter, notably in far rougher shape than 'Matt'. Courtesy, I later learned, of their combined efforts. While the hunter intruded upon my house, I caught up with 'Matt' and Caspar outside of town. We've been traveling together ever since."

Larrel hummed, eyes flicking between Hild and James.

"When did he tell you his real name?"

"Later on that evening," Hild said. "The first night camping out in the Needle Point area."

"Was he still just as prickly as before?" she asked. "All 'hardened criminal' type?"

"He was less prickly by then, and more..." Hild pursed her lips. "Irritating."

"Sounds about right," Larrel nodded.

She paused for a moment, visibly in thought as she continued sending glances from Hild to James, back and forth again.

"When do you think you started feeling different about him? Since it sounds like you two started on the wrong foot, and all," she asked. "Something had to happen to change that, right?"

Hild grinned faintly as she thought back. "We talked about books."

"Seriously?" Larrel asked, sounding more taken aback than doubtful.

Hild shrugged a shoulder. "A few shared interests go a long way, evidently."

"Okay, but when did you realize you like liked him?" she pressed. "It wasn't when you talked books."

She paused, making a face of displeasure.

"...Was it?"

Those were two separate occasions, yes.

"No, I suppose not. It was..." She mentally counted the weeks, then decided it wasn't so important right now. "Sometime after traveling together, we stopped one early evening in a grassy field on an overcast day. He must have recalled a previous discussion of ours then, and offered to dance with me." Hild idly looked down at her hands with a softer smile. "It was the most fun I'd had in years."

Larrel's eyebrows raised for a moment, but then she quickly turned to look at James, narrowing her eyes. Upon seeing he had dozed off with his empty soup bowl still in hand, she only squinted harder, as if she didn't believe he was really sleeping.

But when Jane reached over and gently took the bowl from James's hands and he didn't respond aside from his soft breathing and limp frame, it became clear he was indeed, fast asleep.

With a small huff through her nose, Larrel shook her head and looked back to Hild.

"Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing when he asked you to dance," she said. "I swear, if he's still the soft, gushy romantic on the inside under all..."

She spun her finger as she gestured to him.

"...that," she continued. "I'm going to laugh."

Humming, Hild nodded. "He rather is quite the romantic."

Larrel rolled her eyes.

"Ugh," she groaned, then sent her sleeping brother a look. "I bet he's faking being asleep right now just to avoid this conversation."

Hild just laughed, amused by the thought.

"Even as a kid he was so cheesy," she said. "I don't know how he got so dramatic. I think it was all the reading."

Shrugging, Hild said, "I think that's the sort of thing that's simply...there."

"And you like that about him," Larrel asked flatly, so much so it barely even sounded like a question.

"It can be endearing on occasion," Hild answered.

"Maybe the endearing part came with age," Larrel muttered, reaching over with her foot like she was about to tap James's shoe, as if to wake him, but then she seemed to decide otherwise.

She then looked to Hild with a questioning look in her eye, brows raised in assessment.

"What do you like about my brother?" she asked, then clarified: "Not that-- I don't believe he's likable I just-- well..."

She paused, and looked over at him, as if making sure he was actually asleep.

"Yeah," she said, leaving it at that.

Hild felt she rather understood to what ends Larrel was asking. Expression softening slightly, she obliged and answered, "Well, your brother is a courageous sort. Witty, sincere and rather charming (when he wants to be). Cares deeply for others. He's an incredible friend."

Larrel's eyes were stuck on James, and there was a sad, wistful look on her face.

"And that was after his whole..." she waved her hand in front of her face, like she was building a wall as she kept her expression serious. "Yeah?"

Grinning faintly, Hild said, "Yes, after the somewhat rocky start, which my own cynicism didn't help initially."

"It's hard for me to imagine him being so..." Larrel gestured with her hands like she was searching for words for a moment. "...stiff."

Hild was unsure for a moment of what to say. All she could think was that they simply knew James in different ways, through different circumstances.

"He looks uncomfortable," Larrel observed quietly, just above a whisper.

Despite being very much asleep, James indeed look less than comfortable. Even while asleep his body still held the tension of pain. Hild wished for a way to alleviate it.

"I guess you don't have pain relievers out here in the middle of nowhere," Larrel mentioned softly.

Brows drawn and lips pressed in a hard line, Hild somberly shook her head.

"Did you ever ask Aaron?" she asked, still keeping her voice low. "What he did to him? So you know how to help him?"

It honestly did cross her mind to ask Aaron, multiple times. But Hild had decided to not engage with him anymore than she had to, if only to rid of him sooner rather than later. Such a confrontation would've caused an untimely and likely long pause in their journey, which they couldn't afford with the walls of King's Peak still in view.

"We...deduced," Hild answered, matching Larrel in tone and volume, "what kinds of damage Aaron caused, and to what extents. My brother is currently most involved with the details of James's recovery, and helping in what ways he can with limited resources and less than ideal conditions."

Larrel nodded slowly. She looked over to Lyall, who was a bit of a ways off, watching as Lilya ran in circles.

"Earlier," she said, enunciating her words deliberately, like she was about to encroach on a delicate topic. "You all mentioned something about... Carter Haddon, right? I heard that right? Aaron was working under him?"

Studying Larrel, trying to glean what she was thinking, Hild silently nodded once.

Larrel looked off to the side,and her brows knit together as her fingers tapped rhythmically atop her knee.

"That's weird," she said. "James used to work for the Haddons. Before he disappeared."

Hild glanced down at her hands again, hesitant to offer information on James's behalf.

"You think the Haddons got him in this mess in the first place?" Larrel asked.

That depended on what Larrel considered 'the first place'. Hild's knowledge of James's relations with the Haddons leading up to the sabotage was still rather unclear.

"Sorry," Larrel said before Hild could reply. "I know I should just ask him. I just don't want it to overwhelm him."

Hild glanced at James, then tried offering Larrel a reassuring smile. "You'll have time to talk with him, I'm sure."

Larrel offered a small, unsure smile in return.

"Right," she said. "We've got a whole life ahead of us, huh."

Hild shared her uncertainty, but they had to hope.

The children climbing up into the wagon again alerted them that their afternoon rest was over. Hild quietly bid Larrel and Mrs Rikk farewell for now. Once everyone was back in position, they set out.

Pulling Eir up alongside Penumbra, Caspar nodded his greeting, which Hild acknowledged likewise.

"Um, how is he?" Caspar eventually asked.

"Asleep," Hild said reassuringly. "And he managed to finish a whole meal."

Glancing down at Eir's mane, Caspar nodded. "Good. Excellent."

They rode in silence.

"So, King's Peak," he started again, reminding Hild that they hadn't properly caught up with each other just yet. "Raj said that you got back in through...Aaron's yard?"

"Yes," Hild said, "it made for a very interesting journey back, to say the least."

"I'll bet."

Another beat of quiet.

"Did... Did his kid know?"

Hild met Caspar's curious, concerned gaze now and shook her head. "Neither did his wife. He told the Rikks, though, right before we parted ways."

Caspar huffed. "How'd that go?"

"It went about as well as one could anticipate." Looking ahead again, Hild shrugged and added, "It could have gone worse."

When he didn't say anything right away, Hild glanced sideways again, catching a perhaps troubled look on his face. When he still didn't say anything, she gently urged, "What?"

Caspar hesitated, then slowly answered, "I've just been-- Just thinking."

"Oh," Hild said, "a hazardous endeavor."

Caspar huffed a laugh, but his amusement faded quickly. "I just... The whole Aaron thing's been bothering me ever since. But part of his situation, I think...I kind of understand. A little."

Hild looked him over. At first with concern, then with some scrutiny. It felt like there was a crucial piece that she missing here.

"I-- You know," Caspar added, sounding very unsure of himself now, "he had his family, who he was probably concerned about, right? He-- I just--" He waved a hand and looked in the opposite direction. "Sorry, don't mind me. Just thinking."

She'd usually just brush this off and file it away under his more empathetic nature. It felt too out of nowhere to just brush off, though.

While he avoided eye contact, Hild mentally combed through every previous conversation she could in search of anything that might point her toward the right conclusion. The few times she tried touching on the subject of his time spent in the wilds came back to her. His friend's name, Eindride, stuck out in her memory. And she was reminded of when Caspar explained Ivar following them in Manning's stead.

He made it out of the wilds alone, and otherwise didn't speak about this Eindride.

Hild tucked that away for further unpacking later.

For now, she supposed as a...thought exercise, she could also understand Aaron's dilemma. To a limited degree. The motivation of his family's safety was clear; a deep enough caring for another person could push one to incredible lengths, far beyond what one might've thought themselves even capable of. That much she'd seen on many occasions, experienced herself. Shooting Ivar in that storm went against everything she ever worked for in the Isles, yet she'd do again if she had to, to spare her loved ones.

Aaron's sense of self-preservation was also strong. With enough reflection, she decided it was also understandable. But his ability to turn a blind eye to his own wretched wrongdoings, and his desire to save face and willingness to manipulate for it, was far less sympathetic.

Perhaps her previous thought was Caspar's angle, though.

"Everyone has family," Robin's voice piped up from beside her, and when she looked down, Robin was trotting alongside Penumbra (who had been getting more used to having a wolf around).

"Doesn't make 'em 'good people' just because they look out for their own," Robin said. "Almost everyone does that."

"Well, no," Caspar agreed quietly, "and I wasn't trying to posit such. Just that." He shrugged and stammered, "I don't know."

"'Just that' what?" Robin asked, tilting his head curiously up at Caspar as he walked between the two horses.

"Aaron's situation isn't entirely comparable to ours," Hild quickly offered. "He sought to live comfortably by any means. We avoid causing harm where we can whilst trying to survive."

Robin huffed through his nose.

"Still don't know why we let him off easy," Robin muttered before trotting ahead of them to the front.

It felt at first like the conversation went with him, leaving a silent space to linger between her and Caspar. Hild tried finding the best words to offer to ease what she knew was lingering guilt for what happened to Manning.

Caspar spoke first, mumbling, "Kinda wish I did punch him when I had the chance."

Hild blinked. Then snorted and agreed, "He was rather smug at the dinner. It would've been immensely satisfying to witness. Thank gods for Mel, averting what could've been a disaster."

Caspar nodded with a quiet laugh. Hild grinned faintly, considering this conversation a success. Fine with leaving it at that, they rode on in a more comfortable silence together.

The rest of the afternoon passed them by, a little slow and uneventful. When night was nigh, Caspar and Lyall set up a campfire. The group settled close around it as temperatures quickly dropped.

Sitting between Caspar and Mel, Hild briefly listened as her brother visited with James in the wagon behind them. Knowing she wouldn't be able to simply hear them without also picking up on their exact words, she noted with a small smile that they sounded comfortable with each other's company, then quickly turned her attention to the goings on around the campfire.

Bo was a compelling storyteller. He stood, practically putting on a one-man play, as he regaled her nieces with a tale of a humble farmer stumbling upon a trove of endless treasures that was guarded by a two-faced, bug-eyed beast. Cy was enraptured by the ensuing battle of wits between the farmer and the beast, and Lilya held out hope that a dragon would swoop in to assist at some point.

Aside from Petrus, the Rikks were all quite entertained by Bo's distinct, lively characterizations; Petrus was already engaged in a quieter side conversation with Raj and Mel. Though Robin fixed his attention on his food, he glanced up frequently, betraying how invested in the story he truly was. Caspar silently drew by the firelight. He would faintly smile and chuckle under his breath every once in a while, which told Hild he was listening too.

Lyall rejoined the group by the time Bo's story concluded. Everyone gradually settled as best they could for the evening with a few murmured conversations here and there. Caspar would've offered to take his usual first watch had it not been for Cy and Lilya deciding he'd make the perfect resting spot for the night. Robin took first watch instead.

The Rikks lied grouped together by the fire, all exhausted from travel, likely some lingering shock as well, emotional stresses, the like.

Exchanging small nods of acknowledgment with him, Hild carefully stepped over Caspar and the children, and padded over to the back of the wagon. Peeking in, she couldn't immediately tell in the dark and by James's posture if he was still awake.

"Mr Hawke," she called quietly, "would you care for some company?"

There was a slight delay, and then she saw James's head turn towards the sound of her voice.

"Hm?" he said, and it was clear he hadn't heard her clearly, but when he saw her, he spoke. "Hild."

The affection was clear in his voice.

Assured that he was awake and aware, Hild climbed in and sat down beside him. "How do you feel about some company?" she asked again, softly.

"I'd like that," James answered in kind.

So she lied back, and gently rested her hand on his.

"Larrel was asking about how we met," Hild said after a few moments of restful silence.

James hummed.

"I caught some of that," he said. "Though, admittedly, not much."

Tilting her head, Hild glanced over the edges of his face in the dim light. "How are you...doing, with our most recent developments?" she asked quietly.

Hild heard a puff of air as James sighed deeply.

"Honestly?" he said. "I don't even know."

"I imagine it's overwhelming," she offered.

"It doesn't feel real," James said, keeping his voice quiet. "I keep waking up thinking it'll turn out to be a dream, and then it's not. And I can't decide which is more terrifying."

He paused, and then turned his face towards hers.

"Petrus and David have hardly spoken to me since they joined us," he whispered, and he sounded ashamed of it. "I don't know if it's because of my fragile state or... I don't know what..."

As if all of his thoughts crashed into each other at once, James went quiet, leaving the thought unfinished.

Hild couldn't piece anything together, either, so it was left hanging in silence.

"Sorry," he eventually said after a pause. "I know... I never really spoke much about my family before... before all of this."

"No apology necessary," she murmured.

"I thought I'd never see them again," he said, unprompted.

Another pause passed, but shorter.

"I was counting on it," he said even quieter. "For the longest time, I didn't want to. And when I finally thought that maybe I could work up the courage to see them again, before I knew it, I was wanted, and it didn't matter anymore. Even if I wanted to see them again, I couldn't. Not unless I wanted to put all of us in danger."

She could hear faintly as he took in a deep breath before continuing.

"So I tried to forget them. I distracted myself. Kept myself busy. I was so preoccupied with survival, it was easy. But now that they're here...?"

James looked down and away, his whole face hidden in shadow.

"I don't know how to put it into words," he said, barely audible. "It just... hurts."

She felt a sharp pang of sympathy. She couldn't be sure that their circumstances were entirely similar, but she understood how it felt. Part of why she never fully settled in Needle Point was because she dug herself so deep into work, if only to distract from the pain of missing her family.

He let out a deep sigh, and turned to look up at the stars.

"But it's not for anything they did," he said. "I..."

And another pause passed, this one longer than the last. Hild waited. There was enough time that elapsed that she wasn't sure if he planned on continuing, or if he needed any prompting. But before she could say anything, he finally continued.

"I ran away," he said, and she could hear that his voice was tight. "I was eleven. I didn't want a new father, and I didn't understand what was going on with my family. I was angry, and scared, and what little stability I felt like I'd gained since he passed was going to be ripped out from under me. I didn't know what to do."

He swallowed, eyes still fixed upward.

"And then... I was offered a way out. Join Carter and the Haddons as they moved to King's Peak. Join the army with him. Make something of myself. Take control of my own life. And Carter assured me he would take care of everything. I just had to make it to King's Peak to meet him there."

She could feel his hand ball up loosely underneath hers.

"I left them," he said, his voice thin, like it was about to waver. "I abandoned my family, and never told them where to, or why. And now they're seeing me sixteen years later. I left as a child, and now..." he paused, swallowing once more, though it didn't keep his voice from betraying him.

"I'm not proud of what I did," he said, his voice now hoarse. "Nor am I proud of the man that I've become. And I'm terrified that they'll come to the same conclusion."

"James," Hild finally said, voice soft. "You were a child then, and you've had to make many difficult decisions since."

"But one decision I made as a child altered the course of my entire life," James retorted. "They already lost my father. And then I chose to leave--"

"And you've lived with it, hated yourself for it," Hild cut in. "A lot of time has passed, your situation flew far beyond your control." She closed her hand around his. "You don't need to punish yourself for it anymore. Your family is back now. It will be difficult, but this is your chance to reconnect with them."

James pulled his hand away from hers and tucked his arms in, reaching up to rub his face. She could hear his intentionally measured breaths, and his faint sniffs. He was trying to calm himself down.

"I know," he said quietly, carefully enunciating his words. "I know. And I'm trying. I'm going to try."

She turned onto her side, facing him more directly. "I know you will," she said warmly. "And remember that you don't have to do it entirely alone."

James nodded slightly, but didn't turn to face her.

"I know," he said faintly, but left it at that.

"Good," Hild said, softer.

At that, James fell quiet. But after a few seconds passed, his hand gently returned on top of hers.

"How about you?" he asked. "How have you been?"

"I've been well," she answered simply, glancing down as she idly entwined their fingers.

"Are you getting more accustomed to life on the road?" he asked.

Humming a faint laugh, she mentally noted how predictably quick he was to move on. "I am, yes. It's not so bad with the right company and when you're better prepared for it."

"Ah, right," he said. "Preparations. That's what we were missing when we whisked you away. What about the outdoors, then? Has it become more bearable?"

"It rather has," she agreed, "though I will be thankful for somewhere clean and a few new books to enjoy out of the elements."

"Did you get tired of reading The Isle's End the fifteenth time around?" James asked in a light, teasing tone.

"I could probably recite the entire first chapter from memory at this point," she answered flatly.

"That would be impressive," James said. "Though having read it twenty times over myself, I'm not inclined to challenge you to prove it. I shall simply be content taking you at your word."

"Why, afraid you'll lose?" she said with a slight challenge in her voice.

"Not afraid," James said with a smile in his voice. "I know I'll lose. I'd rather not start a fight I have no chance of winning."

"That's fair," she relented, grinning faintly.

"Besides, we don't have to retell the same story over and over," he said. "I could come up with something new, instead."

Hild arched a brow. "An intriguing counter-proposal."

"Does that mean you'd like to hear one?" he asked.

"If you're offering," she said.

"That I am," he said warmly. "What kind of story would you like to hear? I'm afraid I know too many off the top of my head that are a bit more macabre than necessary. Though they wouldn't be entirely original anyway, since they're Moonlight Kingdom folk tales."

She scooted closer as she hummed in thought. "Storyteller's choice." She simply needed something that she hadn't already read in the past months.

"Then I'll go for something a little less depressing," he said softly before taking a deep breath.

"Long ago, before Nye had known the horrors of the calamity, there was a young girl from a small village in the jungles we once knew as Midea..."

With the campfire crackling faintly in the background, and the warmth of the blankets piled around them, Hild let her eyes drift closed as she listened to the cadence of James's voice. Contentment didn't feel so strange anymore. It was rather a strong comfort to know that her life could be full, even with a still-long road ahead of them.

Day 5 since bidding their little cottage farewell, bringing them to the 4th of Aurne. Sitting squeezed in the back of the wagon provided ample opportunity to strike up conversation with the Rikks and get to know them a little better, be it through their mutual interest in filling the silence or their quiet preference to let it be.

Larrel was in the former camp, and Lyall felt that they'd likely gravitate toward each other even if they had all the space of the woods to travel at a distance and at their leisure. She was an attentive conversant and quick to joke. While that didn't resolve tensions that he couldn't quite figure out yet, it certainly helped ease them somewhat, and ushered time along at a more comfortable rate.

He found the rest of the family friendly, if reserved, and Petrus possibly the quietest of their bunch. Talking in a wider group setting would draw him out of his shell for a time, but he seemed to prefer silent observing. Not an unfamiliar pattern, and certainly not without good reason.

Having befriended the likes of Caspar and Raj, Lyall found it an admirable trait. While he was trained to accurately search for every perceivable detail through communication, constantly asking questions did cause him to miss the things that those with a natural inclination to simply listening seemed to catch without fail.

While the desire to prod at the younger man, if only to mildly psychologically dissect him, remained, Lyall abstained. There were better times to do so. Directly, anyhow, he had no qualms with gathering what he could from a distance.

The wagon drew to a gentle stop for a lunch break. While Caspar took charge of the girls for a bit, Lyall had a chance to check in on James. They had a comfortable back and forth for a few moments, Lyall asked a few questions and looked him over to gauge his progress in his recovery, and they bid each other a short farewell until the metaphorical road beckoned them along once more.

While his anticipation for food still seemed low, James's capacity to retain a full meal continued to gradually improve. He appeared slightly more alert as well, though that was an unreliable, ever-changing state. Steps forward, steps back, which was expected. Journeys were rarely linear, try as one might to forge a more direct path.

Not entirely unrelated on the note of paths, Lyall, after watching Lilya practically dance around Caspar like a maypole and Cy find herself a large rock to climb over, followed a winding path between various friends to the front of the wagon. He made sure to keep a six foot radius of space between himself and Rusty (nothing personal, simply a personal preference) as he briefly updated Bo on inventory.

Even mid-discussion, it didn't escape Lyall's attention when his sister hopped into the wagon at this point, likely for a short visit with James. Lyall was less...uncomfortable with it now, and more curious than anything. He was simply nosy, he could admit that about himself. Caspar would say as much, and Hild would shoot him a glare that could cut through steel.

His attention split between speaking with Bo and pondering just that split second about Hild's potential conversation with James, Lyall did miss Lilya's fast approach. He couldn't catch her before she crashed into his legs, but he caught himself before she could send them both to the ground, and he hoisted her up under both her arms to keep her from causing anymore damage.

"Cy pushed me off!" Lilya whined, going limp in his hands.

Straining to keep from getting dragged down, Lyall set her down before she successfully slipped from his grasp. "I'm sure it was an acciden--"

"I didn't," Cy shouted from atop her rock, deeply offended, "she fell!"

Trying not to sigh wearily, Lyall opted not to acknowledge the accusation yet as he first prioritized taking stock of any injuries.

"What hurts?" he asked.

"Everything!" Lilya answered without hesitation.

His younger daughter was an open book. He didn't find any indication that her head suffered even any minor damage anywhere, and was thus relieved about that. There was only a deep frown on her face to indicate wounded feelings. She held her elbow. He couldn't imagine with the padding of her winter layers that there was a scrape so much as a bump. And she ran to him unhindered, so her legs, ankles, and feet were probably fine.

"What hurts most, then?" he asked, in order to narrow down their problems. "Might we begin there?"

"She pushed me!" Lily repeated instead. So she wasn't as upset about the injury as she was about the claimed caused.

Mediation was possibly the most exhausting part of this job, because it was constant and oftentimes impossible. Lilya refused to consider the possibility of her sister's innocence and that her boot simply slipped off the side of the rock, and Cy wouldn't plead guilty in any way, even if she maybe was. The rascals.

Casting his friend a searching glance, Lyall raised both brows for some clarification. With a sheepish grimace, Caspar shrugged and vaguely pointed over his own shoulder. Of course the fall would happen just when an unbiased party was turned away.

Slight irritation with the circumstances was replaced with concern now, though. Lilya felt hot to the touch when Lyall brushed stray strands of hair from her face. He kept the concern from showing too much on his face, even as he mentally paged through every plausible explanation.

Was she sick? Did someone bring something back from the capital? Though symptoms would've cropped up a lot sooner if it was contagious, so maybe it was viral, something less likely to catch on. He couldn't be sure, though, and a viral infection wasn't 100% containable.

When it seemed Lilya was only moments from bursting into tears, Bo knelt down beside them, tilting his head towards her.

"You know, Lilya," Bo said gently. "Sometimes, when I'm hurt and get really sad, it helps me to have something special, even if it's small, to make the hurt not so bad."

Reaching into his pocket, Bo pulled out a small bundle. Something thin and rectangular, wrapped in cloth. Pulling the cloth away, he reached in and broke off what was revealed to be a piece of chocolate.

With one hand, he pocketed the rest away, and with the other, he held it out to Lilya.

"This is chocolate that I made myself, with lots of love. Here. You can have some," Bo said with a smile.

Sniffling loudly, Lilya stared intently at the chocolate, like a magpie suddenly veered off course by a shiny bauble, and the storm clouds about her head seemed to instantly lift a little. "I can?" she blubbered.

"Yeah," Bo assured her. "I save it for moments like this, you know. For the bad days."

She hesitated, glancing at Lyall, but didn't wait for confirmation. For what it's worth, he would've given her permission. Very much akin to the little treasure-hoarding dragons that she so adored, Lilya snatched the chocolate with a hasty, "Thanks, Uncle Bo!" before turning tail and dashing off.

Lyall watched, at first indignant at her half-hearted attempt at manners. Then panic struck him when he noticed her boots sparking on the frozen dirt.

"Lily, wait--" he yelled, only serving to startle her.

She didn't slow, only ran faster with a squeak, and veered sideways through a stretch of dried leaves to weave between the trees. Large flames lept up at her heels. She froze in place now, eyes wide with shock.

Several of their number lept into action at once.

Lyall ran and grabbed his daughter, then stumbled back out of the way with Lilya held tightly in his arms. Bo reached up to the trees overhead and hit a few branches, sending some snow down onto the flaming patches. Robin swooped in and splashed water out of canteen, dousing more of the fire. Raj jumped in and pulled the earth around the fire closer, containing the fire that was left before he stomped it out with his feet.

With Lilya in his lap, he uttered quick reassurances as he frantically searched her again, for more serious injury this time. Panic gave way to complete confusion, though, as he realized that only her coat was singed. She was still surprised, but only just that. Not in pain or discomfort. Just. Surprised.

And entirely unapologetic as she popped the now-slightly melted chocolate into her mouth.

She was okay. Lyall leaned back on his hands to keep from falling back from the sheer relief.

"Hey, would you look at that," Bo said, standing over the two of them with a smile as the smoke of the now doused fire fluttered behind him. "Looks like you inherited your father's magic, 'lil Lilya. That was quite the flame you started, there. I hope my chocolate lived up to the excitement."

Brows furrowed, Lyall stared blankly at his daughter.

Lilya stared up at Bo, a luminous smile slowly growing on her face. "I'm a dragon!"

Lyall stared harder as the pieces fell into place.

"Not quite a dragon," Bo said fondly. "But very much a mage."

He extended a hand out to Lyall. Lilya scrambled out of his lap and dashed back to assess the damage herself, as if she'd find her signature on it to confirm. Watching her closely, Lyall missed Bo's hand at first.

"She's a mage," Lyall said, voice cracking a little.

But she was so young. Was she too young? He supposed it didn't make a difference now, she had it whether or not anyone of them were prepared for it.

Gods, his daughter had magic.

She hopped over to Robin, asking if he saw. While she babbled excitedly, Robin simply listened with the fullest, most sincere smile Lyall had ever seen on him.

"I discovered my magic really early on," Bo said, and Lyall realized that though Bo said it casually, he'd never shared that before. "She'll be alright, especially with her father around."

Lyall reached again. Their hands clasped, and Bo helped him to his feet.

She inherited his magic.

"How was the chocolate?" Bo asked, watching with a grin as Lilya dashed back and bounced circles around them.

"Best chocolate ever!" she said, giggling.

Bo brought his hand to his heart.

"High praise," he said, smiling with warmth and amusement.

"Can I have another piece for Cy?" Lilya asked, jumping now in one place. "I want to tell her I don't care about the rock anymore because I have magic, and she likes chocolate too, and love, even though she thinks she's too old for it."

Bo put his hands on his hips.

"Why don't you bring your sister over here and I'll give her some personally?" he suggested. "That way we can all celebrate together."

"Like a party!" Lilya beamed, and took off. Robin followed after her.

Once she was out of earshot, Lyall began pacing. "This is a good thing," he said to himself, "yes, excellent even. She has magic. And not just any magic. Nooo, of course it just had to be mine. Fire, of all things! She's only five, for gods' sakes. Smart kid, yes, truly, but still so young! It's hard to control as it is; I barely managed it into adulthood--"

A firm hand grabbed Lyall's shoulder, stopping him in place. It was Bo, and he spun Lyall around to face him.

"Do you remember when I met you?" Bo asked.

Lyall frowned, already knowing where this was headed, but obliged and answered, "Yes."

"If you could get to where you're at now, we can certainly help her. And we get to be involved early on, from the start. The sooner she gets taught, the easier it will be," he said. "Lilya isn't you, you know. Yes, it's the same magic, but her journey with it will be different than yours. She won't have to hide it with us. She'll get to learn with freedom."

Glancing off, Lyall slowly nodded.

Lilya wasn't him. He took comfort in that.

She'll get to learn how to wield her magic, freely, surrounded by a supportive family. She'll get to start at a young age, the prime of her educational journey. Logically, this indeed was a good thing.

He looked back to the group in the near distance, watching as Cy took delight in the news, and how Hild, Caspar, and the mages gathered closer to congratulate her. Bright smiles and warm embraces abounded.

Gods, Lilya was so happy.

"She's going to be alright," Bo said softly after a small pause as he watched them too. "She's got a bright future."

A beat.

"You know, because fire--"

Lyall cut in with a loud groan. "Please, no."

Pulling his hand away with a chuckle, Bo pointed his chin in Lilya's direction. "Let's join her."

And so they did.

Stepping into the midst of the excitement, it hit him full force that the best family he could have ever hoped for his daughters would have their backs every step of the way.

Instantly taking notice of Bo and Lyall's arrival, Lilya lept up at Lyall, and he just managed to catch her.

"I'm gonna fight bad guys," she declared, trying to clamber up onto his shoulders, "and be a doctor like you and Uncle Robin and Aunty Mel, and I'll learn fire like you and--"

Lyall pulled her down back into his arms and gave her a quick squeeze. "You will be great!" he agreed, laughing.

"You both will," Caspar said, voice warm yet a tad pointed (for Lyall, presumably), and pulled the two into a tight side-hug.

Despite another small tinge of panic at the prospect of having to instruct on the art of magic, Lyall managed a sincere smile and said, "Thanks."

Lilya, quite done with the embrace, twisted in Lyall's arms and clambered up Caspar like a tree. With a good-natured smile, he helped her up to his shoulders and carried her back toward the wagon. Cy followed close on his heels.

Bo gave a hearty pat to Lyall's back and meaningfully raised both brows. Lyall had to further concede that, yes, this was more than alright. Despite having reached a better standing with his own magic than before, Lyall still felt unequipped to teach his daughter on his own. Bo's last reassuring smile affirmed that, no, Lyall wouldn't have to.

Bo sprang ahead then, and into step beside Caspar. "You know, if you work really hard," the mage said to Lilya in a mock whisper, "you could catch up to your pops real quick."

Lilya gasped and whispered loudly, "I'll work extra hard, then!"

"Ashlunds are very dedicated learners," Caspar confirmed, voice incredibly fond.

"That," Bo said, sounding very pleased as he playfully poked Lilya, "is what I like to hear!"

Lilya giggled, positively glowing with all the praise.

Hild fell into step beside Lyall. It was quiet at first as they trailed behind everyone. She kept her hands folded. He hid his hands in his coat pockets to warm them. When he glanced sideways at her, she cast him a slight smile.

"It's incredible," she said softly. "Not only will she grow into a great mage, but she'll also most assuredly become a good woman under your guidance."

Lyall straightened and puffed out his chest a little. "She will, won't she?"

Hild's smile warmed, then saddened, which confused him.

Before he could ask, Hild added quieter, "I'm sorry you didn't have this sooner."

And then it made sense.

He stopped short of ten feet away from the wagon, and Hild had to oblige because he obviously had something say. He hated to see his younger sister still harboring guilt over something that couldn't be helped anymore. Making light of things was always easiest, but he deemed honesty the better option this time.

"I was jealous of you."

Hild tilted her head with an incredulous laugh. "No."

Lyall shrugged. "You got to choose--"

"I fought tooth and nail just to start as a nurse," she countered.

"But you wanted it."

She fell quiet, looking struck by realization. Apparently he covered that up a little too well.

"And you were spared the emotional and interpersonal troubles that came with-" He waved both hands vaguely. "-'the gift'. I envied all of you, but I don't hold anything against you. Not anymore."

Hild looked away for a moment, eyes lowered just a little.

"Don't hold any of that against yourself, either."

Nodding, she turned her eyes skyward with some visible annoyance - which meant he was getting through to her. "Fine. Yes, I won't." She turned a stern but sympathetic eye toward him. "And neither will you."

He grinned easily. "I won't."

She smiled just a bit. "Good."

"Good," he agreed.

Lyall then gave her shoulder a pat, indicating their chat was over. Almost in sync, they started for the group once more.

"I'd offer to swap places so you could have some more quality time with the patient slash boyfriend," he said quickly, "but we're so close to home now that I'm not about to put my life in the hands of a creature without any actual hands."

Hild snorted and answered smoothly, "I'd pay good money to see you try." Then they split to resume travel positions.

Before James took the ranching job with Gregor, he'd tried to be a thorough record keeper. One of the things that kept him sane and gave him some sense of stability and control was keeping track of each passing day and mapping out every place he went. It was a discipline he put into practice most when he was traveling alone, but made sure to keep up with as much as possible so that he never went to the same place twice - that was, unless he had to.

But after nearly dying from a gunshot wound, he'd begun to slack. The practice was neglected as physical recovery took priority, and it wasn't long after he recovered that he was captured by Carter. As imagined, he was preoccupied with mere survival.

Though in his heart he did want to take record of where they were going, he very humbly had to admit to himself that he could barely keep track of the last time he slept or ate, nevermind the day.

As a result, he found that others ended up keeping track for him.

Hild was reliable, and though to her it was always simple and matter-of-fact, hearing her recall even the most mundane event of the passing days helped ground him. Though he was steadily eating more and gaining more strength and energy, his sleep was where he suffered the most, and in turn, so did his memory.

He was sure the stress of the last month wasn't helping.

However, despite the consistent fuzziness of the passing days, he was able to retain a few things. There was an odd advantage to being the one considered wounded and weak most of the time. It seemed that many of the group would go about conversations and interactions like he wasn't even there.

In fairness - they weren't always wrong to believe that. There were many times - though mostly in the first two weeks - where he genuinely was in too much pain and exhaustion to process much of what was going on around him.

But that wasn't always the case.

James noticed how Caspar and Mel began to spend more time together. Sometimes it was as simple as the two of them drawing away from the group conversations to have quiet ones of their own. Sometimes Mel would follow Caspar when he went off to chop wood. Sometimes James would catch Caspar looking at Mel longer than could be considered casual, and with a fondness clearly deeper than simple friendship.

James didn't feel pressed to mention it, though. He was happy to watch it develop organically, and it seemed that - at least, on Caspar's end - that he was rather dense when it came to such things, and likely wasn't fully aware of what was happening.

Mel, though... she seemed like she knew what she was doing.

He also noticed that Mel and Hild seemed to be getting along more. He'd catch them chatting away from a distance, but also got to hear from Hild personally about their budding friendship. The two of them connected over their mutual doctoring background but clearly had compatible personalities, and it seemed like Mel brought out a side of Hild that was more casual. They also seemed to enjoy sharing stories about their childhoods, both coming from big families with many siblings.

Meanwhile, James found he was connecting with Lyall more. Ever since his rescue, the tension James sensed between them dissipated, and though Lyall was also serving as his caretaker, he found that he also made a pleasant friend. A talkative one, but enjoyable nonetheless.

If there was anything Hild neglected to mention when recalling anything James missed, James could always depend on Lyall to fill in the gaps, usually without any prompting. That was how he heard about the string of pranks that Hild and Robin apparently were conspiring against Lyall - though they sounded rather harmless in nature, Lyall seemed to dramatize them. James, once, tried to object with reason that adding hot pepper flakes to his food wasn't going to kill him, but Lyall was quick to argue from a "professional opinion" as a doctor that it could, in fact, harm him physically. James let him win that argument.

As the days and weeks went on, the weather varied. It got colder at first, and then the cold eased as they passed through the deserts in the daytime. It was still harsh at night, but it was far less extreme than the winters down south in the Moonlight Kingdom.

But once they started pushing past the desert and back into forested areas, the cold returned with full force.

James was familiar with the difficulties of travel in the winter with no roof to rest under, but he knew his family wasn't, and neither were the Ashlunds. At least, he wouldn't be convinced based on Lyall's constant complaints about the weather.

Caspar, however, seemed more than content as the ground was blanketed with layers of falling leaves. It made training Lilya, however, a bit hazardous, as her recent discovery of her magic resulted in the occasional small fire. But Bo and Lyall were working with her on that. James, of course had been inconveniently fast asleep at when her magic was made known, as he'd been less than well at the time. But he was recovering, and by no means missed out on the misadventures that followed.

It was nice to consistently be back on his feet again. Though he didn't know that he'd ever feel "normal" again, he was getting his strength back, and something of an appetite. By all accounts, his body was healing well, and Lyall and Mel seemed pleased with his overall progress.

His sleeping patterns were still erratic, but if that was the worst of his worries, he'd take it.

And the moment he was back on his feet, he was eager to get back to work. To do something - anything with his hands to feel useful and to get his mind off of things. This resulted in him spending a lot of time with the horses, and often Raj, in turn, as he'd been the main caretaker of the animals.

It was nice to connect with Elliot again.

He stood beside him, brushing his mane through. Long days of travel made it therapeutic for both him and Elliot, and Elliot peacefully nibbled at the dry grass on the wintry ground and James worked through a few small knots.

They were passing through the borders of the Outlands, going the long way around to avoid passing by Ruddlan, as a precaution. The route took them past the twin lakes, Lily and Harmony, on the forested side. James knew the odds of them running into any serious trouble in the Outlands by way of people was about as high as them running into trouble near Ruddlan, but sometimes it was easier to deal with bandits than bounty hunters and local law enforcement. Though in most societies, laws were useful for upholding some sense of security and normalcy, James found the lawlessness of the Outlands a strange comfort. But the comfort only extended as far as the knowlege of knowing they could do whatever they had to do to defend themselves with less repercussions.

Still, he had to count their blessings. They hadn't run into any serious trouble yet.

He brushed his hand over Elliot's neck, petting him lightly.

"You and I have been through a lot, haven't we?" he whispered softly, watching as Elliot's ears turned toward him, attentive, but relaxed.

"It's nice to see you two fully reunited once more," Hild said warmly beside him.

James whipped his head over to look at her. He must've missed when she walked up to him, nor had he anticipated anyone overhearing him.

"Ah," he said with a shy smile. "Agreed."

She cast him a faint smile. "If you'd like a few more moments of peace, I can go pester my brother instead?"

James lightly shook his head. "It's fine," he said as he turned to continue brushing. "I was only talking to Elliot. It's an old habit."

"Well, don't let my intrusion impede on your conversation," Hild said breezily. "I simply wanted to inform you that we're stopping early this evening to replenish and wash a few things while the lake's still close."

James nodded slightly. Ever since his rescue, he was wearing borrowed clothes. Most of them were likely Lyall's as they were closest in size, but no one ever said anything about it. He glanced down at himself and the slightly oversized coat that almost covered his hands, and his pants, where there were dirt stains on the knees. Washing never seemed to get them out. He could always try again.

"Alright," he said simply, making a list of things to wash in the back of his mind. He knew the lakes would be freezing cold at this time of year, but at least not frozen over yet.

He moved the brush to the end of Elliot's mane, where it stopped above his shoulders. Keeping the brush moving in a slow, rhytmic motion, he glanced over at Hild.

"Bo says we still have about a month ahead of us," he said. "Maybe a little longer. Fall will probably be over by the time we get there."

Folding her arms, Hild hummed in thought. "What do we imagine 'there' looking like?"

James flicked his eyes over to her with a smirk.

"We? Or are you asking me?" he asked.

Hild gave him a flat look, but her amusement showed in her eyes. "Brainstorming out loud, it could be a collective effort. Honestly, all I can imagine is the bunker by Ruddlan, just with more hallways and rooms."

James hummed.

"Well, Bo and Mel have been nothing but cryptically vague in mention of the secure location we're going to, and Raj and Robin haven't even spoken of it, which leads me to believe it may be of more importance than they're saying. Or rather, not saying. And based on the direction we're going, I suspect they'll be taking us into the wilds. Unless there's some sort of association the mages have with goblins that I'm unaware of, I don't imagine they'd be taking us into Zild, and Lettera is just as hostile to mages as the kingdom, if not more. And we'd have to pass through Lettera if we were going to Ewhein, but I'm not sure any humans have stepped foot into harpy territory since the age of the calamity. So my reasonable deduction is that the place we're going is somewhere in the wilds, which means its possible they've made use of the abandoned ruins out there."

James shrugged to himself, and then added: "Or, perhaps, it's another underground bunker, like you said. Or a combination of both. I supposed it depends where in the wilds it is. It could even be inside a mountain, for all we know."

Hild, lightly resting her chin on his shoulder, replied, "A mountain does sound quite secure. And it is plausible. I rather like that concept."

"It's interesting, for sure," James said. "Cold, though. I'm not partial to being buried in snow."

"It could be seen as strategic," she offered.

"A natural deterrant," James said. "Bad weather. Ingenious."

"Indubitably. And being placed higher on an incline would be advantageous," Hild added, "in the unlikely event that the wrong person were to find it."

James looked up at Hild with a raised brow.

"True," he said. "Though it'd be less accessible for the elderly, or children, or anyone who can't climb a mountain. Though I suppose, maybe that's not an issue if you know an earth mage."

"A very valid concern if you don't," Hild agreed.

"And not all earth mages are capable of what Raj is able to do, I imagine," James said, glancing over his shoulder. A few yards off, the others were stopped by the wagon. He could see his family sitting around, Larrel and Lyall talking while the kids played what looked like tag with Robin and Bo. Mel and Caspar were off to the side with Eir, and Raj was with Rusty, quietly caring for the large horse.

Though Raj wasn't the most vocal, he was one of the most skilled mages James had ever seen. He and Mel were on a level most mages never got to, and James would say the same of Bo - but Bo seemed far more reserved with his magic.

Lighting magic, he supposed, wasn't the most useful for casual use anyway. He was grateful that Bo seemed well aquainted with restraint. It would make him a good teacher for Lilya, too.

In his quick glance, scanning over the others to spot Raj, he ended up catching Lyall and Larrel both looking his way, and James's glance turned into a look as it lingered.

Larrel leaned over to whisper something to Lyall, intentionally covering her mouth. It was strange. All these years, and she must've assumed (rightly) that he could still read lips well. Whatever she said to Lyall made him grin with a small but unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. As he turned and beckoned over one of his daughters, Hild beside James spoke up again.

"I heartell yaks are excellent in mountainous terrain," she said. "They could be a potential solution to this hypothetical dilemma."

"I've never ridden one myself," James said, distracted. "But I'm sure there are ways to tame them..."

"I don't think they're very hostile," Hild said, oblivious to what seemed like a fast-forming scheme behind them. "Though I suppose I couldn't really say, since I've yet to encounter one."

"I've only seem them from afar," James said, eyes still fixed elsewhere.

With Lilya seeming nowhere to be found at the moment (Robin was still sniffing her out), Cy popped out of the wagon and practically stood at attention as Lyall spoke. She looked James and Hild's way when Lyall gestured their direction, then broke into a sprint toward them. Seemingly before her father was done, but he was content to let her go.

"They don't seem to be hostile," he continued. "But they are quite large, and just like with any creature, it would have to be socialized with humans before being able to serve as work animals."

"It could be done eventually, though?" Hild asked.

"Eventually, sure," James said as he turned slightly, done with brushing Elliot's mane. He looked to Hild and then tilted his head over to Cy, who was rapidly incoming.

Hild barely had time to turn before Cy pushed her way between them and declared, "Can you be in my reproduction of 'The Archer and the Hound'?"

James looked over to Hild, then back down at Cy.

"I suppose I could," he said. "Do you have a script?"

Cy smiled. "I do!"

"Which character would you have me play?" James asked.

Hild arched a brow at him, looking less put-upon by the interruption and more intrigued than anything now.

"I think you'd make the perfect archer," Cy answered. She crossed her arms and began pacing. "Papa was good, but he just doesn't have the look. He's too...city, you know? He can't grow hair on his face."

Hild snorted at that.

"You look tough," Cy went on, "and like you can actually use a bow and arrow."

James quietly looked up at Hild and met her eyes as he kept a straight face, but smiled with amusement in his eyes. Tilting her head, Hild faintly grinned back.

"Well, I'll put in my best effort then," James said.

Cy beamed. She then turned a hopeful look to Hild. "What about you?"

Folding her hands, Hild straightened and schooled her features into something business-like. "What role are you offering?"

Humming, Cy tilted her head a little. "Maybe it's too obvious, but I think you could be the werewolf."

"That simply makes it a natural choice," Hild said in a playful tone. "I'm not opposed."

"May I ask how you plan for your version of the story to end?" James asked.

Clapping her hands together, Cy looked way up at the sky in thought. "Well," she said slowly, "I did them being friends already once... And Cassie tells it with them being in love." She made a sour face, then turned a curious look to James. "How would you tell it, Uncle James?"

James smiled innocently and shrugged, but internally, there was a delayed reaction to her calling him Uncle James. It wasn't entirely out of the blue, seeing as Cy and Lilya had taken to calling Robin, Raj, and Bo "uncle" as well (though they likely had far more history), but it felt different. Maybe it was merely because he was dating Hild, and this felt more like he was unofficially being folded into the family. It caught him off guard, but it was... nice.

"I'm normally partial to a more nuanced, often tragic, ending, but at the moment, I think I'd rather lean towards something less depressing," he said. "Are you opposed to romance being a part of the story?"

Cy scrunched her nose as she thought a little more, looked side to side as she weighed their options. Then settled for, "I can work with it," and a conclusive nod.

James suppressed an amused grin.

"If you wanted to make it dramatic and more true to the original, you could have them start as enemies," James suggested.

That sparked Cy's interest. With a gleam in her eye, she nodded slowly. "I'll have to rewrite a lot of the script," she said, "but it'll be fun. I'll tell you when it's done, and then we can start rehearsing."

James looked over to Hild with a playful smile in his eyes.

"I look forward to it, then," he said.

Trying to suppress her own amusement, Hild pointed an arm back Lyall's way. "Let your father down gently, now. His ego is sometimes fragile."

"You're right." Cy's expression turned serious. "Maybe he can be a side character."

"There are the parents in the story," James said.

Hild huffed. "He can be overbearing, it wouldn't be a very challenging role. It's just--" She shuddered. "I'd rather not."

With hands folded, Cy carefully considered this. "He can be the baker."

"My sister might be interested in participating, if you want to ask her," James suggested. He couldn't really speak for Petrus.

At this, Cy lit up again. "I'll go ask!" And, spinning on her heel, she left as abruptly as she came. On her way back, she loudly declared to her father quite bluntly that he had been demoted.

James watched as Lyall's expression morphed into confusion, then utter betrayal. James forced himself to keep a straight face, but inside, he was laughing. He looked over to Hild as she laughed openly at her brother's reaction. He felt that gave him permission enough to smile. From across the few yards between them, he made eye contact with Larrel, who was smiling herself.

"Star of a world-renowned stage play." Still giggling, Hild lightly bumped shoulders with him. "How does that feel?"

"Like I'll have to live up to her expectations," James said with a grin. "How does it feel to be a co-star?"

"Like I've got my work cut out for me," she said, playfully sighing. "If she's anything like Lyall, she has high standards."

"I had a feeling," James said, turning to tuck the brush he was still holding into the saddle bag on Elliot's saddle. Just as he buckled the bag shut, he heard Bo calling everyone to pack back into the wagon. They were moving again.

Over the past week, James had been building up the strength to ride again, thankfully no longer confined to the wagon's rocky travels. With one last look to Hild, he hopped up into Elliot's saddle. Penumbra wasn't too far off, and Hild hurried over to mount her before the two of them fell into step alongside each other as the wagon led the way out.

Another week followed, and Cy eventually finished her new script and showed it to James and Hild. As it turned out, she'd created a whole new cast of extra characters to include more people into the story. Robin was recruited to play the hound, and Robin didn't seem bothered to be type-cast into the role of a dog. Larrel was cast as the werewolf's mother and Caspar as the father. Lyall was given a new minor role of a baker, and Bo was essentially playing every other minor character that showed up for a second.

Though the majority of their days were dominated by the necessities of travel, Cy was eager to get everyone to practice their lines and parts during mealtimes. It made their rest stops more lively, for sure, and James was glad that he was feeling better - though still sleep-deprived - so he could keep up with her energy.

The whole production went on for about a week and a half before Cy eagerly arranged a night for an official "show." There were few props, but Cy called for a show when they stumbled upon a raised, rocky area that could serve as a "stage."

With Mel, Raj, Lilya, and his family (minus Larrel) in the audience, everyone gave it their all. Larrel and Caspar managed a convincing dynamic of being stern, overbearing parents, and Hild the more rebellious daughter. James leaned into the archetype of the rugged, determined hero figure and enjoyed playing off Hild in the more tense scenes in the beginning, as well as developing things past the turning point in the plot, where they ended up having to save each other. Robin made a good supporting character, and naturally, didn't have any speaking lines, but still maintained a stage presence.

Bo and Lyall ended up serving as more of the comedic relief, but it seemed to come easy to them. Bo intentionally over-acted at points, but Lyall and Bo were quick with their delivery and got lots of laughs out of their small audience.

Overall, the show went well, and Cy seemed more than pleased with how it turned out. Her only criticism was that the kiss at the end "went too long." Apologies seemed to smooth it over, though.

When it was all over, James realized the play idea had served as a sufficient distraction for the continuous travel, and by the time it was almost the beginning of Aerth. Already, fall was speeding by, and James couldn't help but feel a little antsy.

With his health improving, it was creating more space for self-reflection. Normally, this was something James didn't mind, but in his current circumstances, to reflect on everything seemed a bit overwhelming.

He was in a very different situation in life than he was a year ago.

For the first time since he'd been on the run as a wanted man, he was on his way to a place that was safe.

Now, it wasn't that he'd never been in places that were comparatively safe, but this was the first time he was with a group of people who knew who he was, were willing to protect him, and were taking him to a secret, hidden location that would afford him a far more real sense of security than he'd had in a very, very long time. The reality didn't even seem possible, never mind real, and if he was being entirely honest with himself, he still wasn't too sure about everything.

There were many unknowns.

He was still learning to navigate his new relationship with his family. Things with his mother and David seemed to be alright, and they were nothing but kind and supportive. David, though they'd never known each other much before he'd run away, seemed to go out of his way to assure James that he wasn't trying to replace James's real father, but that James was more than welcome into the family. James still wasn't sure how he felt about it all, but he was glad to be with his mother again, and it was nice to have a chance to get to know David. The more he learned about him the more he was glad that David had been looking out for his mother all these years.

And then there was Larrel. Though things at the start were a bit stilted and awkward, they had the opportunity to sit down and talk more. It started more with small questions about things that had gone on in each other's lives in their absence. Learning about what they both missed. Some of it was reminiscing on the past and the memories they still shared, but he was grateful also to look to the future as well.

One night they had the opportunity to pull away from the group again and sat under the stars, huddled under a tall pine. They were both layered up, and James could see their breath in little clouds in front of them.

Larrel seemed to hesitate but leaned her head on his shoulder.

Not wanting to spoil the moment with words, James leaned his head onto hers and simply stared out at the endless starry expanse. In the background, he could hear the others chatting around the crackling campfire.

"I think fall is my favorite season," Larrel said quietly. He could feel her voice faintly reverberate through their faces where their heads touched.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"It's the season I got my brother back," she said.

Swallowing, James tried to let it sink in before saying anything.

"I know you used to be the one who was all mushy gushy as a kid," Larrel said. "But I can be mushy gushy too."

James only hummed softly in agreement.

"You know, it used to be my least favorite," she said. "Because it was when you disappeared, too. But I guess it's kind of funny how it all came back around that way. It's like I got you back early, just before the anniversary of when you left."

James didn't have much to say in response. Though he'd been told he was forgiven for leaving, that didn't change the fact that he still hadn't quite forgiven himself. The shame that came with thinking back on it kept his mouth shut.

After an extended silence passed, Larrel pulled her head away and looked over to him, studying him. She reached over and set her hand over his.

"I don't mean to guilt you into saying sorry again," she whispered. "I only mean that I'm happy to have you back."

James couldn't meet her eyes. He looked down at their hands instead.

"I know," he said quietly.

She went quiet too, but he could feel that her eyes were still on him. The silence was full with her thinking.

"You know," she said. "I was angry for a really long time. At dad, for sacrificing himself the way he did. At you, for running away. But I don't want to be. I'm not angry anymore. Having you is more important to me than hanging onto my bitterness. And I know we don't know each other like we used to... but I love you, James. You know that, right?"

James felt his throat grow tight, but he swallowed the know down as he looked up to meet Larrel's eyes. His own felt a little misty, but he willed the tears to stay at bay.

"I love you too, Larrel," he said. "Always have. Even if I'm not always the best at showing it."

Larrel, unlike him, let her tears flow down her face freely. She reached out her arms like a question, and he gently received her, pulling her close. He didn't keep track of how long they sat there, hugging under the pine tree, with their heads resting over each other's shoulders. But by the time Larrel pulled away, everyone was starting to retire to sleep, and Caspar was staying up to take first watch.

While everyone tucked away into their blankets around the fire to keep warm, James found himself too restless to lie down. He knew if he tried, he wouldn't fall asleep for a long time, anyway, and though he knew Lyall and Hild would insist that he try, they were already asleep by the time he returned to the fire.

He watched as Caspar drifted a little further from the camp. Though practically, he knew it was simply to check the area, there was something exceptionally somber in the way Caspar pulled away.

He'd seemed exceptionally somber all day. For a few days, actually.

It wasn't unusual for Caspar to be quieter and reserved, but James had grown used to seeing Caspar grow more relaxed and open with everyone, so to see him withdraw again told him something was going on.

As Caspar disappeared into the dark, James glanced around at the others and their curled up, sleeping frames on the forest floor. On light feet, he pulled his coat around his neck a little tighter and adjusted his glasses to make sure he could see as he followed after Caspar.

Just as he came up from behind, Caspar straightened a little and offered a slight nod and smile in greeting.

"I hope you don't mind," James said. "I won't be able to sleep for a while, so..."

Caspar shrugged. "Don't mind. Can't be helped all that much, I guess."

James nodded and fell into step alongside Caspar. Caspar noticeably slowed his pace, too, to more of an amble.

"It's nice," he eventually said, a smile in his voice, "seeing you with your family."

James looked up at him.

"It's nice to be with them," he said quietly. Though he meant it, he couldn't help but feel that he said it half-heartedly. There was more to it than that.

"I never thought it'd happen," he added.

"Is it...weird at all?" Caspar asked quietly. "Something to adjust to still?"

James tilted his head, looking off to the side.

"There's a lot to adjust to," James said faintly. "I'm not sure that I'll be adjusted for a while. I only started walking again consistently two weeks ago."

Pausing, James looked up at Caspar.

"How about you?" he asked.

With brows raised, Caspar glanced down at him. "What about me?"

"How are you doing?" James asked.

Shrugging again, Caspar tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. "M'good. Just still..." Taking his hands back out of his pockets, he waved vaguely. "...wrapping my head around things, I guess. It's been kind of slow, but a lot at once, you know?"

James nodded.

"A lot has happened in the past few months," he said with understanding.

With a nod, Caspar went quiet. Then he stopped, rather abruptly, and murmured, "Part of me wants to just...leave."

James came to a full stop.

"To go where?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. In the opposite direction, I guess." He shifted his weight between both feet, and glanced out and around them. "I know I've gotten far more than I ever let myself hope to-- it feels almost like a second shot at...life. But everything's always been short-lived."

"All of this feels foreign to me too," James said. "For so long, I've only known turbulence. All of this still feels temporary."

Caspar nodded slowly. "...I won't," he added quickly, after a stretch of quiet. "Leave, that is. I just don't feel ready for a new start."

James looked out into the forest, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Do you have to be?" he asked.

Huffing a wry laugh, Caspar conceded, "We never are, I guess."

James looked back to Caspar. It wasn't that he didn't understand. He had compassion for Caspar because he honestly felt the same. He didn't feel ready either. He hadn't been ready when he was reunited with his family. He hadn't been ready for anything that had happened, the good, the bad, or the in-between. But what happened had happened, and now they were living it.

"It's overwhelming," he said quietly. "For me."

"I can only imagine," Caspar said with empathy in his voice. "Alexander, then Ruddlan... It feels like it's been one big mess after another."

That was one way to put it.

"Yeah," James mumbled, barely audible. He kicked lightly at a patch of grass on the ground.

Folding his arms, Caspar twisted around and idly glanced out at the trees. His breath misted when he let out a quiet sigh.

"It was a few years ago today," he murmured. "When I lost Jack."

So that's what it was. James turned to Caspar with his eyebrows drawn together, and a somber silence passed between them.

"I'm sorry," James said quietly. And he hated how inadequate the sentiment felt, but he knew there were never right words to offer.

"You must miss him," James whispered.

"I do," Caspar answered, with a slight, saddened smile. Then added warmly, "He would've liked you, I think."

"How so?" James asked.

Caspar's smile grew fond. "Well, he always loved adventure stories." He gestured head-to-toe toward James. "You're, simply put, well-traveled. Former lieutenant, sailor, rancher-- He'd have thought you were...very cool."

James let out a weak laugh.

"I don't know if anyone's ever called me 'cool' before, but I'll take it," James said.

Caspar shrugged. "It's a step up from being a 'fart brain'."

"Wow," James said. "He was creative with the nicknames, I see. Was it well earned?"

"He--" Caspar laughed. "He tried. He wasn't a wordsmith by any means, but he always got his point across."

"I can tell," James said with a small smirk. "Are there any other nicknames I should be aware of? In the event that they become relevant at some point. No other reason."

Caspar tried giving him a flat look. "And give you free ammunition? I think not."

"I suppose I could always come up with my own," James said with a playful shrug. "Being a wordsmith and all. Only when the situation calls for it, of course."

"'When the situation calls for it' can be applied very loosely." Caspar gently bumped him with his elbow. "Tread lightly, young man, I've got a few of my own."

James raised his brows, amused.

"Oh, is that so? Now I'm curious. I'd like to see this. You, tossing out playful insults," James chuckled.

"There could be casualties," Caspar said direly, shaking his head. Then nodding toward camp, he turned and started to head back.

"Oh, I'm sure," James said, turning to follow and walk alongside him. "Lyall would likely be the first, I imagine."

"His ego does make for a large target," Caspar agreed jokingly, trying to bite back his amusement.

"I'm sure he's self-aware enough to know that, too," James said. "Sometimes I think he invites criticism just for a chance to have the banter."

Caspar nodded. "He likes the attention. And he gets bored left to his own devices."

"He must be miserable in our company, then," James said, suppressing a laugh.

Barking a laugh, Caspar waved dismissively. "He makes do."

James shushed Caspar, though he was trying to keep his laughter back himself.

"You'll wake the others," he whispered through a smile.

Caspar shushed him back. "Right," he said, lowering his voice but barely containing himself, "because they actually sleep when they're supposed to."

"If that's supposed to be a dig at both of us," James said with a grin. "You're not wrong."

"I'm very right," Caspar replied, sounding vindicated. He slowed to a stop at the edge of the fire's light and added, a little quieter, "It's also kind of a hint. To you, anyway, I've still got first watch."

James's grin faded and he pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at Caspar. He huffed dismissively and looked away.

"I'm not tired yet," he said.

Caspar huffed a laugh through his nose. "Go to bed, you goober. I'll be around."

James bit his lip to keep back a burst of laughter and instead ended up snorting and clearing his throat.

"Goober," he said, his voice wavering with a tease of laughter. "That's good. I'll hold on to that one."

Caspar grinned unevenly. "There's more where that came from. Sleep now, and I'll consider sparing you."

"How magnanimous of you," James said with a small bow of his head. "I suppose I should avoid the worst and go to bed, then."

With a flourish of his hand, he offered Caspar a bow. Standing at his full height with his hands folded, Caspar bent at the waist likewise.

"Until next time, fart-brain," James said before spinning around on his heels and quickly pacing over to his blankets on light feet, trying not to disturb anyone in the process. He ended up hastily trying to bundle up on the ground near Hild, hoping he didn't wake her.

Turning over to face him, but with her eyes still closed, Hild scooted closer and leaned her head to his shoulder. "You made it back in one piece," she mumbled. "Miraculous. I've never witnessed such vicious verbal attacks."

James chuckled softly and scooted a little closer to her so that they could share the warmth. The nights were always more chilly, and only getting colder.

"I reserve my best insults for the people I care about," he mumbled.

Hild hummed a laugh. "Like 'fart-brain?"

"It is rather scathing, isn't it?"

"Most cutting."

"It's probably better you haven't seen me when I'm truly insulting anyone," James said a little quieter. "I tend not to hold back."

Hild tilted her head back a little and blinked herself awake enough to consider him closely now. "I think I rather would like to see that."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," he said with a small grin.

She smiled back. "You know me very well, then."

"I do hope I'm not in any sort of situation soon where scathing insults are called for," he said softly.

Though still quite sleepy, Hild's gaze was attentive. "I'm sure we won't be."

"Unusual optimism," James said with a weary grin. "Though appreciated."

"If it helps you sleep, I can stomach a little optimism," she said and tucked in close again.

"How considerate," he whispered, shifting so his arm was more comfortably behind her shoulders. "You can go back to sleep, now. Hopefully, I'll be right behind you."

Hild hummed quietly, sounding close to nodding off again. "That, or face Calder's wrath."

"I think I'll survive either way," James said, barely audible. "I've survived worse."

When Hild didn't respond, James assumed she must've drifted off. Eventually, he could hear her steady breathing confirming it so, and eventually - though after a much longer while - he managed to drift to sleep as well.

In his last moments of consciousness, he found himself dwelling on his conversation with Calder and his loss of Jack. He knew that Caspar, in some ways, saw Jack in him. He couldn't help that or change Caspar's perception of him, but he did hope that Caspar would be able to heal from the loss of Jack with time. There was a small part of him that, however illogically, felt responsible for any extra grief he'd put Caspar through during his disappearance. And he only hoped that the worry was alleviated more, now that he was recovering.

He really was trying. Exhaustingly so.

Sometimes it just felt like he was taking one step forward and two steps back.

When he woke that morning, he was grateful that it wasn't with a start, for Hild's sake. But he still woke with a chasm in his stomach that never seemed to go away, and he couldn't help but feel guilty for the fact that it was there. But, just like every other day, he simply acknowledged its presence, got up, and kept moving forward.

As the days passed on, the forest grew thicker, and they eventually left the Outlands and entered the wilds. Thankfully, they didn't run into too much trouble in the Outlands, but as they entered the wilds, the natural dangers became more prevalent.

Several times a day they would have an encounter with various wild animals, leaving everyone on high alert at all time. Some were easier to avoid than others, like the less aggressive flying boar. But the griffins were more territorial, and as much as they tried to avoid them, they did end up in a few scuffles with the beasts.

Bo moved from his normal place as the driver of the wagon to simply walking ahead of the group with Raj, and the two of them were able to spot dangers before they came, along with the help of Robin's heightened wolven senses as he consistently traveled around and ahead of them as well.

They felt the pressure most when there were a few close calls with the girls, Lilya and Cy. They were only playing when they stumbled into a death patch - tall, hostile, bladed grass that was dangerously easy to get caught in. Thankfully, Lyall and Bo were able to catch them before they got too tangled up in it, and Mel was able to heal any scrapes left behind.

After that, they were all starting to feel it. The stakes were already high. They were always high, traveling off the roads, far from the cities, away from civilization and the safety of the walls. But most of them - his own family, and Hild in particular - were not accustomed to traveling in dangerous territory for an extended period of time. He could tell it was stretching for Lyall as well, especially with his children.

David and his mother were as steady as he would've expected them to be. They didn't complain, but he could tell they felt the strain of it. The pressure of the lack of stability and safety.

Larrel seemed more eager to rise to the challenge. More than once, she jumped in in the midst of the action to help protect, get others out of the way of danger, or even defend. He supposed they both got that from their father. It was that almost stupid courage in the face of danger.

Petrus, however... had more nuanced reactions.

He was brave, but he was careful. James had been able to tell that he'd already been on guard the whole time - not just in regards to their surrounding threats, but to everyone. Sometimes, even, his family included, but always towards James.

It made for a tense interaction when, by chance, the two of them ended up being on one of the night watches together. The rotations, at this point, were cycles, and people kept watch in pairs, because they couldn't afford for anyone to drift off. Not in the wilds.

They sat in silence.

It was the 14th of Aerth. They had another two to three weeks before they arrived at the secure location they still didn't know everything about. It had been almost two months, and James and Petrus had hardly spoken to one another.

Now that James thought about it, he didn't think they'd spoken to one another at all. Not directly. And it was looking like Petrus was content with keeping that way. Or maybe he just didn't know how to start.

Well. James wouldn't let it be said about himself that he didn't at least try.

Everyone was curled up again around the fire. It lit up the tall, bushy trees around them with warm light and deep shadows. Petrus sat on the other side of the group on the edge of the wagon, legs dangling off the edge. He was keeping a sharp eye on everything, and James knew he was entirely aware as James quietly walked around everyone to reach him.

Still, James came all the way up to the edge of the wagon. The back of the wagon was more than wide enough for several people, and Petrus was seated at the edge, back against a crate of supplies.

James sat down on the other end, leaving about three feet between them.

Again, there was silence. But it was a full silence. The silence of many words gone unsaid.

Taking in a deep breath, James took the first step to try to bridge the gap.

"Would I be right to assume you've never been out this far before?" James asked quietly.

Petrus visibly bristled. Though James couldn't fully make out Petrus's expression in the dark, when Petrus turned to look at him directly, he could feel something deeper than annoyance in his gaze. A few long, outstretched seconds passed uncomfortably.

"You have no idea how much you put our family through. Do you?" Petrus asked lowly. And James didn't expect his words to cut so deep.

He barely knew Petrus, and yet it was clear that his actions had deeply affected Petrus personally.

James glanced off to the side.

"I don't assume to know what you've been through," James said.

And there was another pause.

"I can't believe it," Petrus said, only loud enough to be heard between the two of them. "You have them eating out of your hand just because you say the right things. You left us, and then went and became a criminal for gods' sakes and they're just... now you've ripped us out of our home, and our safety. All because you couldn't just--"

He stopped suddenly, and James couldn't help but hear how the sentence ended, regardless if Petrus said it out loud or not.

All because James didn't take the consequences given to him. Not that it was even entirely his decision to get rescued, but he knew Petrus wasn't talking about that. That wasn't the root of his anger. It was more than that.

"I don't believe you're a good person," Petrus said lowly, his voice bitter. "I don't know about the company you keep, either. Mages aren't trusted for a reason."

Petrus's eyes flicked over to those sleeping, not far off. He seemed to think better of expouding on his distrust of mages and magic, but James wondered just how much he was wrestling with internally in that regard.

"This is your first time knowingly interacting with mages, isn't it?" James asked.

"What, and you think you're better than me because you're just... okay with it all?" Petrus hissed back, gesturing sharply with his hands.

"Not at all," James said softly.

Petrus pressed his lips into a line, like he was frustrated by James's lack of hostility in return. James wondered if he was just waiting for a moment to feel justified in his anger. He was waiting for James to do or say something to vindicate him. He wondered if that meant in his heart that Petrus may have felt shame.

Anger was never its own emotion, anyway. It was always a response to pain. James knew that all too well.

Petrus went quiet again, and James had a feeling there was much more he wanted to say, but perhaps, didn't feel like he could.

"I'm sorry," James said, and he had to pause when Petrus's head whipped to look back over to him. "For leaving. And if you felt that, in my absence, you were left to pick up the pieces of the family I left behind."

He looked down at the ground.

"Maybe you didn't feel that way. But regardless. I'm sorry for how my leaving only hurt our already hurting family more. And... I'm sorry that I never gave you and your father a chance."

When he looked up, Petrus was staring intensely out at the fire, facing away from him. James couldn't help but feel very exposed as the silence dragged on, but he wanted to give Petrus a chance to respond if he wanted.

After waiting for what felt like minutes, Petrus finally glanced back over his shoudler, without really looking at him.

"I believe that you think you mean well," Petrus said lowly. "But I think it would've been better if you and your friends had left us in King's Peak and let us clean up the mess you left behind, just like we did fifteen years ago. Not everyone needs rescuing."

James swallowed back the knot that surged in his throat and nodded slowly. It was strange because, in some ways, everything Petrus was saying was what he'd already told himself in his own internal dialogue. It was what James had worried they'd all been thinking all along, and now, at least, with Petrus, it was confirmed out loud.

He tried to think of something to say in response, but nothing seemed enough. He felt that maybe it didn't matter what he said.

Petrus wanted to be angry at James, and maybe he wanted it to stay that way. James couldn't control that.

"I know it can't be undone," he said quietly. "But I am sorry."

And he wanted to say more, but he couldn't seem to push more out.

"I'm sure you are," Petrus muttered with a sigh, looking away once more. "Are you done, now?"

James quietly slid off the end of the wagon.

"I know it may not mean much," James said. "But for what it's worth... I do still think of you as my brother--"

Thoughg he hadn't intended to say much more, he didn't get to.

"Why do you still go by James Hawke?" Petrus interjected.

James stiffened. He couldn't come up with an answer.

"I just think it's interesting that you 'think of us as family' but don't even want to associate yourself with our actual name. It's Hemming. Not Hawke. That was your father. Not mine," Petrus continued.

James looked to the ground again, feeling heavier than when he came over to talk to Petrus at the start. He swallowed again, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I guess... I thought, in my own way, that I was protecting all of you," he said faintly. "By not associating."

"But that's not really what it is, is it?" Petrus retorted, turning to face him squarely even as James continued to look at the ground.

James wasn't too sure of the answer himself. But all that came to mind, was...

"I guess... it feels like it's all I have left of him," he said, barely audible.

Was that so wrong?

The silence on Petrus's end felt like a boiling one, but Petrus said nothing. He only turned away, looking back out over their small campsite.

James wanted to tell Petrus that it didn't have to do with him. It wasn't about David. He didn't think they were bad people, no matter how upset he might've been as a child about the thought of being brought into a new family when he'd just lost his father. He never held any bitterness against them for it. It didn't make sense to.

Then again, emotions didn't always make sense.

Eventually, Petrus was the one to break the silence.

"You missed out," Petrus said lowly. "They... missed you the whole time."

And he sounded bitter about it.

"They got over your dad, you know. But they never got over you," Petrus said. "So I guess it makes sense that it happened this way, with it all being about you again. And then of course, you're wounded and tortured, too, so I can't even be mad at you for how much they dote on you. You were gone for fifteen years. Of course they want to spend as much with you as possible. Forget the brother who actually stayed through the thick of it."

James only looked up, seeing the back of Petrus's head.

Petrus sighed.

"Not that you care," Petrus muttered, and then said something that James couldn't quite make out. He wasn't sure if he was intended to.

James wanted to tell Petrus that he did care, but he didn't know if Petrus would believe him. He didn't seem inclined to believe anything James said at the moment, so instead, he remained silent. As suspected, it only took a few more quiet passing moments for Petrus to speak up again.

"I know we won't be able to avoid each other entirely," Petrus said. "But... I don't really want anything to do with you."

A beat.

"So... you can go now."

That was it, then.

He wanted space. Perhaps indefinitely. James couldn't force a relationship with someone who didn't want it, and he didn't want to make things worse than they already were. Nodding to himself, he turned, and quietly walked away. No more words were exchanged between them that night, and none for the days that passed. But with each passing day, James felt the sting of Petrus's words dig a little deeper.

He wondered if Larrel, David, or his mother ever felt similar sentiments. Or if they still did, but were merely willing to look past them. He supposed he would never know unless they told him themselves, and it didn't help to dwell on it much. Nevertheless, he still thought about it, especially in the night watches when he was left alone with his thoughts.

It bled into his dreams too. And his nightmares. But he supposed, at the very least, he was waking less dramatically, so it wasn't disturbing the others. He still woke up with a start, but at least it was quiet. Most of the time.

Fall kept progressing. The trees were bare, now, and the ground littered with all their leaves. Travel was steady, if sometimes slow, now that they had to go through thicker forest. Raj was often having to clear the way for the wagon with earth magic, only to have to cover up their tracks behind them. The horses were able to manage, but more often than not they restorted to traveling on foot whenever possible, mostly because of the rough terrain and how it eased the stress of traveling, at least in one way.

It helped James, though, to build up strength again. More walking meant building muscle, and stamina, and working up more of an appetitite than he'd had in a while. It helped make him sleepier when the time to sleep came, and even if he woke up intermittently, at least he was tired enough to commit to lying down and closing his eyes.

He was still tired, but he continued to take one day at a time.

And the days started to blend together, too.

They'd wake up. Eat. Gather their belongings. Fetch water if the could. Get moving again. Walking, riding, pausing, resting, and walking more again. And it would always end the same. Lilya would get some training, they'd settle in to have dinner, and then they'd go to sleep.

So naturally, when he woke up one morning to Larrel standing over him, he was a little confused.

He couldn't remember when he'd fallen asleep, but it had been sometime late into the night. By the time he'd woken up, the sun was rising, and he felt groggy, and had a slight headache. He squinted up at Larrel, whose head was blocking the brightness of the morning sun. She smiled down at him mischievously, as if she knew something he didn't.

"Good morning, brother," she said with a giddy grin.

"Good morning... sister," he said a little slower, testing out his voice, which sounded rough, and lower than usual.

Larrel's grin broadened into a smile.

"How do you feel today?" Larrel asked. And normally, it was a very average, expected question. Just not at this hour in the morning, right when he woke up, like this.

"Don't know yet," James answered, tilting his face to dodge her long hair as it fell over her shoulder and she leaned in closer.

She just stared at him expectantly.

"Is there a reason you're--" but he didn't get to finish.

She rapidly pulled something out from behind her back and plopped it on his head. Or face, rather, seeing as he was lying down. He squinted his eyes almost completely shut as he started to sit up, and then she grabbed the object off his face and started fussing with his hair.

"Can you not--"

"Hold still! Hold still!" she said, kneeling beside him, and though admittedly still very much confused, he stayed stopped moving. It was then that he realized she wasn't just throwing things onto his face and playing with his hair for no reason.

She was holding a flower crown, adorned with a rainbow of reds and oranges in fall leaves, berries, and pale fall flowers. Once he'd sat still, she very gingerly set it atop his head and then stepped back, looking at him.

"There," she said.

His mind was starting to wake up, rolling through all of the reasons she'd have wanted to make him a crown.

In the Moonlight Kingdom, people only ever made and wore flower crowns for special occasions. Milestones, marriages, birthdays--

He blinked, staring at her.

"You look older," Larrel said, putting her hands on her hips. "But a good older."

She turned to the side, and it was then that James realized he had something of an audience. Hild and Caspar were watching alongside David and his mother. His mother looked like she'd been biting her lip to keep from spoiling the moment, but the moment he met her eyes, she broke into a bright smile and rushed towards him.

He knew what was coming. He barely got to his feet before she grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek. Larrel invited herself to the hug as well, and James was surrounded.

"Oookay," James said weakly, patting both of their backs. It was enough for them to loose their grips and pull away.

"Happy Birthday!" his mother said brightly, reaching out to adjust the crown on his head.

James felt a pang inside of him.

This was a lot.

He'd forgotten it was his birthday. Ever since the rescue he'd tried to forget his birthday. For the past six years, no one knew when his birthday was. Regardless of whether he was alone or not, it had always gone uncelebrated. Quietly, unnoticed. And he'd grown used to it being so.

But this year had felt... different. The last few months had been different.

He offered his mother a small, weak smile as she reached out and started pulling at strands of his hair around his face, like she was trying to fix it. He put up with it until it seemed like she was done.

"What about now?" Larrel asked. "Do you feel older?"

"Why do you keep emphasizing the 'old'?" James asked. "I'm not that old."

"And yet," Larrel said, pointing at him with eyebrows raised. "You act like it."

James dragged his eyes over to his mother, looking for some kind of defense, but she only shrugged, suppressing a smirk.

"You do act a bit above your age, dear," she said. "That's not a bad thing."

"It's because you're all grumpy," Larrel said with a teasing pout.

"Happy Birthday to me, then," James said sarcastically.

"We'll just call it wisdom beyond your years," Hild chimed in with a faint smile as she folded up a patchwork project.

"I don't think he's that grumpy," Bo called out from behind him. When James turned to look around, Bo was walking over with Lilya riding on his shoulders. She was holding onto his ears like she was trying to steer him. "Just a more serious guy is all. We need those."

As he came to a stop, Bo ducked his head and grabbed Lilya and she tumbled forward into his arms with a giggle. She had something wrapped that she was cradling in her lap, and when Bo set her down on her feet, she hopped over to James and presented the small package with a dramatic flourish.

"For you!" she beamed. "Uncle Bo and I made it."

James glanced up at Bo, who only smiled. He then reached out to take the gift, carefully opening it.

Inside the creased paper was an oatmeal cookie, about the size of his palm. The top side had granules of sugar sprinkled on the top, and the bottom and the edges were a crispy, golden brown. It looked softer on the inside.

He didn't mean to, but he ended up staring at it for an awkward few seconds, really just... admiring it.

"You made this?" he asked Lilya.

She hummed and nodded, looking quite pleased. "I helped!"

He smiled, and then looked up at Bo.

"I'm amazed you managed to make something like this out here," he said.

Bo puffed up a little with pride.

"I have my ways," he said.

"You should have it right now if you're hungry," Lilya said.

"Cookie for breakfast!" Larrel agreed, coming up alongside him.

James laughed lightly, and then shrugged.

He was hungry.

"Well, I don't see why not," he said quietly, and then took a bite.

"Do you like it?" Lilya immediately asked.

It was like... sweet, sugary oatmeal in a cookie form, and the sugar had caramelized on the golden edges. It had been a long time since he'd eaten anything so sweet, and though it was a little overwhelmingly so, it was very, very good.

He nodded with his mouth still full, though a genuine, closed-mouth smile pulled at his lips.

"That's the look I like to see," Bo said. Looking down to Lilya, he gestured to James. "See that? You can't hide it when you really like something."

Lilya excitedly clapped her hands together. "Happy Birthday, Uncle James!" she said, giggling.

James couldn't help but chuckle at Lilya's excitement. Swallowing down the cookie to clear his throat, he offered a real, full smile.

Quite satasfied with her work here, Lilya didn't wait another second and dashed off, likely with the intent of sharing the news with her father. From the other side of camp, they could faintly hear as she woke Lyall in her usual, overzealous way.

Turning around, James looked back at his sister and mother, nibbling on his cookie.

"You know," Larrel said. "Like that, I see eleven year old you again."

James paused in his nibbling and looked at her out of the side of his eyes.

"You always eat like--" Larrel mimed, pretending she was holding a piece of food in front of her. She hunched her shoulders and made it seem like she was trying to eat over an invisible plate.

James huffed in amusement, and then continued to eat like so.

His mother came over and gave him one last kiss on the cheek before she pulled away, departing to go get ready with David, and to go wake Petrus.

Even though it was his birthday, they still had to get a move on, just like every other day. James did feel a little silly though, standing there eating a cookie, with a flower crown, as everyone else started to pack up.

He didn't hurry through it, but when he was done, he joined everyone else in preparing their packs so they could travel for the day.

As he rolled up his blanket, Hild knelt down next to him with her bag in her arms and a slight grin tugging at her lips.

"Autumn looks nice on you," she commented.

He looked up at her.

"You think so?" he asked.

She hummed a laugh. "I do."

James smiled, feeling a little shy, and stood up with his blanket rolled up under his arm.

"Thanks," he said.

Hild stood with him. She gave him a quick glance-over, then added, "My brother mentioned once that your birthday was coming up, but neglected to specify which day."

"Ah. I see," James said. "I forgot I told him about that."

He paused, then corrected himself.

"Or told Lilya, I think it was."

"Of course he'd jump on information from a conversation that wasn't even his." Hild started toward where the horses were lined up. "You know, he keeps fairly extensive medical records of most everyone here."

James's expression fell a little bit. Though it didn't surprise him in the slightest, he really wasn't excited at the thought of what his records might've looked like.

"Ah. So he... probably has it written down somewhere," he said, walking over to Elliot.

"And yet claimed that he forgot which day when I asked," Hild said, a little flatly. "Anyhow, that's rather beside the point." Curiously, she asked, "How come you never mentioned?"

James turned and started tying his blanket down on the back of Elliot's saddle, not quite looking over at her to avoid meeting her eyes.

"Oh," he said. "I don't know. It just... I didn't really think about it."

Pulling the rope tight, he started walking to Elliot's head, untying the lead from the tree he was strung to.

"Haven't thought too much about my birthday in a while," he said, which was only partially true.

"Suppose that's only fair," Hild said simply as she turned to strap down her belongings as well.

James was content to let a silence fall between them as he made sure Elliot's saddle and reins were properly adjusted. He knew this was a conversation best saved for later. The day had begun on a good note, and he'd rather let that note ring out than interrupt it with years of angst about birthdays forgotten or ignored. Today, despite everything unresolved under the surface, he was going to try to appreciate what he had.

It was his birthday. He was surrounded by people he loved. His family. His friends. His partner, Hild. Elliot, his loyal steed and companion of several years. He had a cookie - of which, he couldn't even recall the last time he had one, never mind one that was as nice as the one Bo and Lilya made for him. And he had a crown... which, however flashy, was meaningful to him, and especially to his family.

The last time he'd been given one for his birthday, he was ten. And his mother had made it for him with Larrel.

Thinking on it, he couldn't help but remember all of the missing years in between.

With a small glance over to Hild, James got up into Elliot's saddle, riding him over to the others as everyone started to get moving.

Yes, he was grateful. But it still hurt. He supposed he'd be content with this birthday being bittersweet.

First of Bruma also marked the first day of winter-- joyous, since this meant the weather in the wilds would only grow unkinder from here-- and left only seven more days ahead of them, barring any unexpected road blocks, until they at last reached the headquarters of the mages' guild.

Despite having traveled with Bo and Mel and everyone for several years at this point, Lyall had no idea what to expect as far as the main base was concerned, just that it was quite large. Caspar had overheard some of Hild and James's theories on the layout and placement of it, and they were entirely plausible theories, but nothing more.

He'd found that, during these past years of constant travel and 'roughing it' on the front line of the mage-hunter conflict, that his picture of an ideal, comfortable life had drastically changed. He didn't wonder so much if the place was grand and ornate, or furnished with the finest fittings, decked out in the most luxurious of materials. Just that it was warm and safe, and that they'd all be together.

Still camped out in the woods as they were, they had at least one of those three things. The wilds were vast, untouched by civilization for a good century. A few old cities lay abandoned and overgrown throughout. There was a haunting beauty to them, he decided, when they came upon an empty stone bridge that lead into one such place, all worn by the weather and the relentless march of time.

The city they stumbled upon featured architecture of somewhat archaic design. The bones of houses and the bricks of others stood well enough. Snow dusted the rotted and falling walls of rotted wood. When they reached the city's center, a group of deer by the well fled and disappeared into the snow.

Bo looked out and around. "Night's falling fast," he mused. Then he pointed left and added with a grin, "Eye've spotted a great place to stay until morning."

Lyall frowned deeply. Hild somewhere behind them groaned loudly, and Caspar had the gall to laugh.

"Okay, so it's overused," Bo admitted. "I'll come up with something new later. But for now, let's get settled under that old church."

Following where Bo's arm was pointed, Lyall looked left, then up. The stained windows of the church were tall and colored, and sadly a little smashed in. The spire of the steeple seemed to pierce the clouds. The double doors were quite grand, covered in faded patterns, and quite stuck.

While Bo, Raj, and Caspar looked to open them from the outside, Robin slipped inside through a window to check for any locking mechanism.

Lilya hopped up the front of the wagon to sit between Mel and Lyall.

"We can burn the door," she offered simply.

"What--" He laughed. "Then how do you propose we keep the snow out?"

She tilted her head. "Cassie can build a new one?"

There was a groan of rusted iron from inside the church.

"Pull the doors," Robin said, sounding slightly strained.

Bo jogged around to the side of the building with a quick, "Clear the ground, too," and clambered in through the window as well.

Lyall and James took Bo's place. Caspar and Raj cleared the floor as instructed.

"The patterns are lovely," Hild said from beside her steed, gazing upward in quiet awe. "Floral?"

"Fraktur," Caspar answered as he pushed aside some stones from around the door.

"Nice to look at," Lyall agreed, "but we won't get warm staring at them out here."

With their combined efforts, the doors were eventually eased open. Raj and James set up the horses under the roof of what once was some sort of town hall. Lyall followed Bo and the others into the church to fully assess its habitability.

Crumbling wood on the floor of the sanctuary indicated the former presence of pews. The window Robin crawled through was the only one that was completely shattered; the rest were cracked, but holding up well enough. Lyall followed the colorful images in the glass up to the vaulted ceiling. The floorboards of an upper level, a sort of balcony, had worn thin.

Lilya's sharp gasp behind Lyall alarmed him at first. He was ready to jump into action, but she was quite fine. Beyond delighted, in fact, as she smiled brightly and pointed at the ceiling.

In the center of it all was an elaborate relief of a dragon, curled into an 'S' and with its broad wings pointing to either side of the church. Plants carved out in scrolling shapes followed the curves of its claws and adorned its head like a crown. The apex of the crown pointed toward a stone altar at the back of the building while the dragon gazed down at them with gentle, watchful eyes.

Caspar stood beside Lyall, head tilted back too to study the carving, and uttered a soft, "Wow," under his breath.

"Jord," Lyall said, remembering that the greater half of their traveling party likely didn't know, "the earth dragon."

"Not made to size," Bo added.

"He's even bigger?" Cy said, astonished.

"Oh, yeah," Bo said with a big smile, gesturing up to the ceiling. "Dragons are huge. One of these days you might meet one. Or maybe you already have and just didn't know it."

At that, he gave Cy a big, exaggerated wink. Except, well, he only had one eye, so really it was only a pinched blink. But Lyall knew it was supposed be a wink.

"Dragon!" Lilya shrieked as she bounded across the sanctuary, flapping her arms the whole way.

"Exactly," Bo agreed with a nod. He flapped his arms with her, though a lot slower, and joined her in running around the sanctuary.

Caspar lightly bumped his elbow to Lyall's arm. "I'll see if there's anything to board up the window with."

Lyall nodded. "I'll get a fire going."

There were a few sparse conversations that echoed around the church as everyone busied themselves with clearing debris, but they kept mostly silent as they worked. They could never be too careful, after all. And Lyall supposed that exhaustion from traveling in less-than-ideal conditions could also be a contributing factor. Soon enough, a wide space on the sanctuary floor was relatively clean, and a pile of old wood for a fire sat in the center.

Kneeling down, Lyall removed his gloves and rubbed his hands together until he got some red sparks. Lilya sat down next to him, watching closely in a rare moment of quiet. He grinned faintly and beckoned her closer.

"Why don't you help me this time?" he said.

With an enthused nod, she took off her mittens-- with great care, since they were a gift from her Uncle Raj-- and held out her hands.

Lyall put her palms together and enveloped his hands around hers. In the same way he recalled his mother doing with him one chilly morning of magic practice.

"First this, like you're praying," he said quietly, echoing Astrid's words.

"To Svida?" his daughter asked, turning awe-filled eyes up to him.

Lyall huffed a laugh. "Sure. But also to warm up. You can start with cold hands, but it helps to get them warm and ready first. A full fire starts faster that way."

She nodded, looking back down to their hands with a look of intense concentration. He rubbed his hands over hers. When sparks leapt from their hands, Lilya gasped and smiled with excitement.

"Cup your hands now, alright?" Lyall instructed gently, feeling himself smile with fondness.

He turned their palms up toward the ceiling now. Lilya held her fingers straight out, frowning a little when she couldn't quite mimic the shape of his hands.

"Like a bowl." Lyall laughed, and helped her adjust. "You can control the size of the flame," he went on, "with the amount of air you can, ah...grab, so to speak."

He let go. Lilya held position. With his pointer finger, Lyall held a small flame in the middle of her cupped hands.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

He slowly drew away. The flame flickered, then steadied in her hands. Lilya stared wide-eyed at the small fire as she attentively held it, and Lyall grinned broadly.

"That's all you," he said.

Lilya bounced with excitement. "It feels funny," she said, giggling.

"It does," Lyall said warmly. "It'll feel natural the more you practice, though. Remember, slow breaths."

Lilya nodded, calming herself with intentional breathing.

He instructed her from there on how to direct the flame. As much as he wanted her to try lighting a full fire on her own, the temperature began to rapidly decline. While she practiced channeling her fire toward the wood, Lyall himself formed a hoop of sparks between his own hands, and got the campfire going (faster than she'd have been able to with such a small flame on her own).

Everyone finished setting up their things, and began to settle down for warmth and rest. Most everyone.

Toward the front of the church, Caspar was still working on a barricade to keep the snow out. Notably, he slowed down in his work, and had grown short of breath. Brows drawn with concern, Lyall stood to insist he not push himself, for his heart's sake. (As much as Caspar refused to acknowledge it, his stamina hadn't been the same since the ambush.)

Bo beat him to it, however, and went over to him. Said something Lyall couldn't quite catch, but it was enough to get Caspar to relinquish the project fairly quickly. As Caspar wandered over to the fire, Bo took over.

Bo took up the hammer and began to steadily hammer nails into the wood, continuing to board up the gaping window. The thick clouds that had been rolling in finally began to spill over, and little flakes of snow began to fall, fluttering in through the broken glass.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bo caught Lyall's eyes. With a subtle but clear nod of his head, he beckoned Lyall over.

Lyall first turned to Caspar and murmured a quick, "You alright?"

Caspar waved dismissively. "M'fine," he answered faintly.

With lips pursed, Lyall watched closely as his friend rubbed at his right shoulder with a slight grimace. Something he seemed to do often, without even realizing. Off to the side, Lyall caught Mel's equally concerned glance.

Lyall opted for a, "Rest up, bud," and a small pat to Caspar's back for now. As he got up and headed for the front of the church, he filed away his observation for later addressing.

Bo reached out a hand full of nails to Lyall, one hand poised for hammering.

"Need a nail holderer," he said unironically.

The nails looked like they'd been pried out of the old pews - the wood of which was being used to board up the window. Some were a little rusted or bent, but it seemed they were functional enough for their purpose.

"You need someone to hold the nails?" Lyall playfully challenged, but obliged anyway and sat down beside Bo.

"Want someone to hold the nails," Bo amended, and plucked a singular nail out of Lyall's hands, leaving Lyall now with seventeen.

Turning and gently tapping it into the wood, Bo continued to speak, his voice quiet enough to keep it between the two of them.

"Cas's been pushing himself a lot," he said. "He's grown, so there's only so much I can do about it, but I think we can all tell when he's in pain."

Lyall glanced back toward the fire. "He's quite transparent like that," he mumbled.

Bo hammered the nail in. Picking up another board, he placed it above the other, and, carefully holding it in place with one hand, he plucked another nail out of Lyall's hands. (Sixteen nails.)

"You got a pulse on how James is doing?" Bo asked. "Physically."

Lyall noted the way James and Hild gently leaned on one another. "He's definitely improved," he answered. "More present, his capacity for physical activity is greater, he's eating well. His sleep pattern is still irregular, but I suppose that's expected at this point."

"After everything he went through," Bo said, grabbing another nail and tapping away. "I'd be concerned if he was recovering any faster."

(Fifteen nails.) Lyall hummed his agreement.

"As is, I'm still concerned," Bo said.

"Of course," Lyall agreed quietly.

Bo let a short lull of silence pass as he finished nailing up the board and moved to set up the next.

"How's it been for you, teaching Lilya?" Bo asked.

"A little challenging," Lyall answered. He absently sifted through and sorted the nails by shape. He hummed a laugh. "More fun than I anticipated, actually."

That made Bo's expression soften with a faint smile.

"How so?" he asked, plucking a nail away from Lyall. (Fourteen nails.)

"I had no idea where to begin with Lilya," Lyall said. "My mother always made it look so easy."

"Do you remember where she started with you?"

Lyall did remember. He remembered sitting bored or even falling asleep through breathing exercises and cryptic lectures.

"With the very basics," Lyall answered, humming a laugh. "Lilya's just as thrilled with them as I was. That's been the challenging part so far."

"Understandable," Bo said, and there was a small glint in his eye as he glanced at Lyall, but he seemed to move past the thought, taking another nail instead. (Thirteen nails.)

"And the more fun than anticipated part?" he asked, carefully angling the bent nail.

"The fact that she's learning," Lyall said. "As much as her focus is very often quite split, she's passionate. She wants to learn, and she's taking everything in."

"A verifiable sponge," Bo said, tilting his head as he cautiously tapped at the bent nail, starting to straighten it out.

"Without a doubt."

When the nail didn't seem inclined to budge much more, Lyall carefully reached over and took it back. He closed his hand around it, and his palm began to glow red as he warmed it.

"'S the thing with using materials that've been sitting around for a few decades," Bo said indistinctly.

"I just have to make sure Cypress and I have something to do," Lyall murmured. "Together, just us, so she doesn't feel forgotten."

"Well, what's she like to do?" Bo asked.

"At first I thought an instrument." Lyall shrugged. "All I knew was piano, though, which we don't have, of course. And it's been some time since I last played."

He opened his hand. The nail glowed like an ember. Without hesitation, Bo reached out and plucked it out of his hand, not waiting for it to cool in the slightest. Alarmed, Lyall was about to give a belated warning, or just say anything. Seemingly unharmed and unaffected, however, Bo quickly took the nail and tapped it against the wood once more, but this time, the iron gave with ease, and it straightened out fully.

"Handy," was all Bo mumbled before he blew on the nail and set it on the window sill to cool. While the iron set, he grabbed a different nail from Lyall. (Thirteen.)

"She likes to read, doesn't she? And write?" Bo asked. "Do you ever read with her?"

"I do that with both the girls," Lyall said, still bewildered by what he feared was a complete absence of forethought on Bo's part. "It needs to be Cy-specific. She's a fiercely independent creative, though, it might feel like taking over if I tried writing with her."

Bo hummed.

"And she's shown no interest in doctoring, right?" Bo asked.

"Our medical texts are off limits for now," Lyall sighed, feeling a little defeated. "She's interested, but only because it's forbidden knowledge, as far as I know."

"You know, you're more than qualified to teach her at a level befitting her age without making her read the books you've got on hand," Bo said. "I don't think it'd hurt to ask if she's interested. Worst she can say is no, and if it's a no, you can always find something else."

Lyall made a face. "She likes animals."

Bo smirked. "I'm aware."

Lyall stared at the nails as he thought.

"Here's an idea," Bo said, reaching meaningfully into Lyall's hand with a little flourish. "You don't have to be the one teaching. Maybe you could both learn something together."

He paused, looking up to meet Lyall's eyes with a small smile as he plucked another nail away. (Twelve, counting the one cooling on the sill as 'used'.)

"What if you both learned about animal handling?" Bo suggested. "You could ask Raj, or James, even. Could be good for him to have something to focus on."

Lyall frowned at the thought of 'animals' and close contact with them.

"And consider," Bo went on before Lyall could object. "Learning more about the creatures that make you uncomfortable might actually help you get more comfortable with them. I'm not saying you have to be thrilled about it, but I think if you can push past your preferences, you might learn something about your daughter that you wouldn't otherwise. And you'll get to enjoy her enjoying something she likes."

Lyall's frown deepened a bit, because Bo was entirely right, and he just didn't feel like admitting it at first. It would go a long way, though, investing in something that he already knew Cy enjoyed, and despite himself. And he couldn't argue with it.

"You've got plenty of time to impart the ways of medicine to her," Bo said. "But only so many years that she's young like this. If you go out of your way to do something with her like this - especially when she knows you wouldn't do it otherwise - she'll remember that. I think it'd mean a lot."

Lyall looked at the ceiling and groaned, "Yes, gods, fine. I get it, you're right."

Bo snorted.

"No rebuttal," he marveled with a broad smile. "I must really be right this time."

"You usually are," Lyall muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

"Oh, psh," Bo dismissed him, waving a hand before returning to hammering. "I only mean to be helpful. You still get to choose what to do with my advice."

Lyall nodded. "I know. And it is a good idea. I'll...float it out there tomorrow, I suppose." He glanced back to the group, where his daughters had fallen asleep by Cas. "She really would love that."

"It'd be nice to see her excited," Bo said with a fond smile. "I think the highlight of the trip for her thus far was directing her production of The Archer and the Hound. Quite accomplished for an eight year old."

Lyall grinned and warmly agreed, "Quite."

"You tell her that you're proud of her, right?" Bo asked.

Glancing back at Bo, Lyall nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," Bo said with a smile.

At this point, he'd finished boarding up the top half of the window, leaving only the lower portion open to the air. At that point, Bo squatted down to a lower level, absurdly tall as he was.

Grabbing the now cooled nail, Bo used that to start on another board.

"Anything else been brewing in that head of yours?" Bo asked. "You know. Since we're alone for a minute. Been a bit rare with all the travel."

Lyall shook his head. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

There was another lull as Bo secured the panel of wood, taking his time. When the nail had gone in fully, Bo looked to Lyall with a searching gaze.

"Did you want to talk about your sister at all?" he prodded.

Lyall cast him a look of mild exasperation. "We could find something or other pertaining to Hild, but I don't believe anything entirely pertinent or pressing at the moment."

Bo was quiet at that, and only looked at him with what seemed to be mild skepticism. He took another nail.

"Maybe it's just because I've known you for a few years," Bo said quietly. "But you're awfully transparent when you don't want to be. I won't force you to talk, though."

Lyall refrained from grumbling incoherently, and said simply, "You have familiarity to your advantage."

"I know now may not be the best time," Bo said. "But I do want to talk about it, at some point."

Lyall quickly re-counted the nails in his palm (seven at this point, he must've briefly lost track). "And, knowing you, you won't forget."

"So I'll take that as a 'come back to it later' answer, then," Bo concluded, but there was no sense of judgement in his tone. Merely patient understanding.

Resignation would be a better word for it, but Lyall opted to not comment any further.

Bo continued to nail up the last few boards in silence, finishing off the last of the nails as he covered the last gap in the window. Now that it was covered, the light of the moon no longer filtered through, but neither did the fresh falling snow, which Lyall considered a victory. Now they only had the light of the fire flickering off the church walls.

Bo turned to Lyall with a small smile and reached out, patting his shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Lyall," he said softly. "You've grown so much in the past few years, and seeing you step up for your daughters and your sister... that's a big deal. You're doing a great job, and I know you're really trying."

Pulling his hand away, he smiled a little broader.

"You're a good man, Lyall," Bo said. "I hope you know how grateful I am to have met you, and to have you with us."

Perhaps it shouldn't have, but Bo's sincerity continued on occasion to catch Lyall off-guard. He didn't falter (like the first few times) though. Feeling quite pleased and warm (despite the window), he sat straighter and puffed out his chest a little. Still, words escaped him, and he could only nod with a modest smile.

Hands now free of his mundane chore, Lyall rubbed them together as he now sprang to his feet. "Best settle in, now that that's in better shape, relatively speaking. Will you be up awhile?"

"I've got first watch," Bo said. "So I better be."

Lyall huffed a laugh through his nose as he led the way back. "How'd you get Cas to turn in early so quickly, by the way?"

Bo stood up to his feet and laughed softly as well. Looking over to where Cas was lying down, he seemed to suppress his smile from getting too big.

"Every once in a while I remind people I'm the boss," Bo said.

Ah. Lyall grinned. "Very effective."

"Well," Bo said with a shrug. "Not a whole lot else works with him. Stubborn guy."

"True," Lyall said quietly. With a slight nod, he added, only slightly louder, "Well, glad to be of service, negligible as it was. I bid you adieu until morning."

"Sleep well, Lyall," Bo said. "Goodnight."

When Lyall made to turn and search for a suitable spot, he paused and turned back, extending a heartfelt, "I value your wisdom, and I thank you sincerely for it."

Bo offered a small, affectionate smile.

"Anytime," he said.

With a conclusive nod, Lyall then spun on his heel and picked his way through camp to where the girls had already hunkered down in a nest of blankets.

The high stone ceiling of the church retained the heat of the fire about as well as he expected it to-- which, wasn't very, to be frank. But it allowed for the smoke to rise and escape through the broken floorboards of the bell tower, and the walls did a fine job of keeping the snow at bay, permitting them a good, dry rest for a night.

Taking up a leatherbound book and pen, Lyall sat next to the mound of blankets where his daughters hid.

'1st of Bruma,' he began writing. Just the highlights, he told himself, but soon figured he ought to jot down inventory before he forgot come morning. Then decided an update on James's medical records was warranted, for his progress was quite steady, and it'd been a week since Lyall did so last. Then his focus turned forward-thinking, to more lessons with Lilya, and the impending 'animal handling' sessions with Cy, and it was only when he found several groups of loose papers and books surrounding him that he realized he had completely defeated the purpose of 'settling down'.

Figuring he'd have time soon enough to re-organize everything when they reached the guild, Lyall indiscriminately swept up all the papers into one pile, set them back in their box, and lied down a quiet huff.

His mind still raced, through the potential futures the Guild presented everyone, how quickly (if at all) their newest traveling companions would take to it, what troubles still lie between them and their destination, to the plaster likeness of the gigantic dragon Jord soaring overhead and the way he simply stared at them in his oddly comforting manner, Lilya's infatuation with the creatures and how long that would last with her, how Lyall didn't even know what Cy made of dragons.

He couldn't recall when he last stepped foot in a church. He never considered himself very religious, and felt that dragons and whatever other deities that may have been out there were too distant to have or even want much to do with Nye. Lyall found himself, in his last moments of increasingly sluggish wakefulness, beyond hoping-- praying by the dragons' names that they make it safely and swiftly to the mages' guild.

2nd of Bruma dawned gently, to his pleasant surprise. His usual wake-up call was notably absent this morning. So was Robin. Lyall felt he could thus reasonably conclude that Lilya was taken on a morning sprint to burn off some excess energy before another long day of travel.

"He awakens," Hild said. "It seemed at first that we'd have to toss you into the back of the wagon with the bags."

There was a huffed laugh beside Lyall as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Someone has to have a decent sleep schedule around here," Caspar said.

"I aim to excel," Lyall yawned.

A warm bowl of the customary oatmeal garnished with a pinch of sugar seemed to materialize in his hands before he was done stretching away any stiffness. The smell of food ushered him into a more wakeful state, and he was able to take in the camp's already half-packed state while he ate. He must have slept in a little too long, then.

Robin returned with Lilya on his heels. Having swept their immediate surroundings while on their walk around, he was able to report that the area was clear of threats. Lilya announced that she helped with the fire to cook breakfast.

The air was abuzz with several comfortable conversations while they ate, and eventually broke camp. There was something of a chill, too. Something energizing, almost antsy. Six days still lie between them and their destination, and the anticipation was palpable.

Glancing into his crate of papers and books, Lyall was already regretting his decision to completely ignore his own system as he sifted through for his daily log.

'2nd of Bruma,' was all he managed to scribble before Hild shut the book on him and tossed it back in the box.

"Write on the road," she said plainly.

Lyall gave her a severely irritated look. "Calling it a 'road' is generous," he retorted, "I can't make anything legible when the wagon's moving."

With a small, disinterested wave, Hild was already walking away. Lyall picked up his book again to assess the errant line of ink and grief she caused him. Then tossed it back in the box, deciding he was going to have to transpose his notes in neater handwriting anyway.

Despite his insistence that he could handle his own load just fine, Caspar loaded up the box among other things for him. Stubborn as Bo said, Lyall thought in his resignation to let his friend help. He made sure to at least give Caspar an admonishing glare.

"I was faster," Caspar said dismissively.

"I was getting there," Lyall said, exasperated.

With utter disregard for Lyall's authority on the matter of wellness, the fool of a man simply shrugged and patted him on the shoulder as he excused himself. With a deep frown, Lyall watched him mount his horse and pull up alongside the wagon, where the Rikks were getting settled for travel.

Fool that he was, Caspar had (albeit selective) perception in his favor.

Lyall himself had enough meaningful interactions with Petrus to count on one hand, but Petrus's persisting distrust of mages hadn't gone unnoticed. Lyall couldn't fault the younger man for it, it was tragically quite a normal feeling, to be frank. Most of the group's ability to help ease the shock of sudden transition was quite restricted as a result.

While it wasn't quite openness, Petrus at least seemed slightly more willing to interact with Cas. Something that Caspar must have picked up on because, every once in a short while, he'd make a point to chat with Petrus and maybe even ask how he's doing.

Straining a little, Lyall tried catching what he could of their conversation from the church doors. The group as a whole was still rather busy, and he missed a few words here and there, but he could fill in the blanks well enough.

"--doesn't feel like a storm today," Caspar was saying-- idly, one might first assume, but weather could constitute a full conversation for him. "But that's subject to change in a moment's notice."

"I don't mind the cold so much," Petrus said. "It's just not enjoyable to travel when the snow's coming down thick."

"And we don't have canvas large enough to cover the wagon," Caspar added with a sheepish shrug. "King's Peak is pretty far south. What's winter like there?"

"Well, it's probably already drowning in snow," Petrus said. "But it's easier to manage in a big city. And working by an oven all day kept me more than warm."

Per Cy's beckoning, Lyall helped pack the last of their belongings and herded Lilya to the back of the wagon. From this angle as he helped his daughters in, he discretely observed Petrus's...not stiff posture. To an unfamiliar observer (Lyall, in this instance), Petrus didn't seem uncomfortable at least, the bitter cold outside and the lack of cushioning in the wagon notwithstanding.

Over the high wall of the wagon, Lyall could only see Caspar from the shoulders up.

"I imagine maintaining a fire in the forge gets kind of costly when the weather's bad," Caspar said.

"It can be," Petrus said. "Fortunately, we are-- well, were pretty well off." There was an awkward pause before he continued. "We got a lot of business with the kingdom. Kept food on the table."

"Weapons, right?"

"Yeah," Petrus answered. "All kinds. Armor, shields, that sort of thing, too."

Caspar nodded with his usual, deeply-invested look whenever listening about someone else. "Really versatile," he said, sounding very impressed. "When did you start learning the trade?"

"My parents started teaching me the moment I could hold a hammer. I've been smithing since I can remember," Petrus said.

"Wow," Caspar said quietly, grinning slightly. "Start 'em young, I guess."

Petrus managed a small smile.

"I mean, I enjoyed it," he said. "I always wanted to follow in their footsteps."

"Yeah, it's-- I find that neat," Caspar said warmly, "that sense of family tradition."

"Both of my parents were in the business," Petrus said. "So that probably made a difference. I was surrounded by it, so it just felt right."

While Caspar was content to simply listen then let the conversation lull comfortably, Lyall pondered the multitude of implications of existing family beyond the little unit sitting right here.

"What did you do?" Petrus asked after a pause. "Before all of... this."

Sitting a little straighter in the saddle, Caspar nodded and answered, "Repair work. Roofs, walls, furniture, that stuff. Not always, but for a good amount of time."

"Sounds like honest work," Petrus said. "Keeps you busy. There's always something somewhere that needs fixing."

Caspar huffed a laugh. "Very true."

That wasn't even the half of it, Lyall thought, recalling the intricate floral woodwork of the dining set (sadly lost to the fire). He held his tongue, though, to keep from butting in, and got his daughters settled in before the wagon jolted into motion.

"There's something satisfying about getting to work with your hands," Petrus said. "And getting to see your finished product. I'm sure you experienced that in your line of work as well."

Caspar nodded and started his horse forward. "Tangible results," he agreed warmly. "It was nice."

"Do you miss it?" Petrus asked.

"I do. Still carve really small things here and there, but." Glancing down at the reins in his hands, Caspar shrugged. "It's not the same."

Petrus hummed.

"I understand," he said.

And, with that, the conversation seemed to fade naturally. Neither offering optimistic outlooks, nor anymore information that Lyall didn't already mostly know about. Consigned to relative un-enlightenment, he remained quiet.

Before long, they stopped to rest and refuel at noon. It was an opportune time and he was a man of his word, so Lyall sought out both Cy and James to propose the idea of animal handling lessons.

Cypress went from confusion to excitement to bewilderment, all in less than a second. James notably raised his eyebrows at Lyall in skepticism before his eyes drifted to Cypress, looking for her reaction.

The excited light in her eyes lingered, but she turned a very sharp eye to him and said very slowly, "You don't like animals."

It was true, and their responses more than fair. He established as much very emphatically, but he still couldn't help the flare of indignance at their collective incredulity.

Standing a bit straighter and tilting his chin up, he insisted, "I'll be more than fine. If Mr Hawke feels up to the task, I thought he could teach us both."

Still doubtful, Cypress mirrored Lyall's posture, but didn't press.

"Cypress," James said. "Would you like that?"

"Sure," she answered. She then gave James a curious look and asked in turn, "Are you good at teaching?"

"I guess we'll find out," he said with a small grin.

Now certain that they were all on the same page, Cy finally allowed herself to smile very brightly, and Lyall couldn't help but grin fondly as well.

"When do we start?" she asked.

"How about tomorrow morning?" James suggested.

Their hour of rest had run out, and the group around them were taking positions once more.

"Sounds like a plan," Lyall agreed.

He then beckoned both of his daughters along. Cy hopped up from the log she and James were sat on, and Lilya a short distance away popped out of the snow. Her surprise appearance most certainly did not startle Lyall, he was simply disgruntled that she was now covered head to toe in frozen water that soon would not be so frozen once they were packed into the wagon again.

1:14 PM, they resumed their trek through the endless wilderness. The snow gradually piled up as they went, thickly blanketing the woods in near-blinding white. Snowfall thankfully ceased just as they drew the horses to a stop in the evening, allowing them to clear out a space on the ground to set up camp.

'2nd of Bruma,' Lyall re-wrote by the fire's light, in a slightly more legible scrawl.

'Excuse the blemish above, my sister woke up this morning and chose to be a nuisance. Now that she and the weather both permit it, I return with news that I'll decide to call 'good, mostly'.'

'My dear Cypress received the proposition with...caution, pause. Which was to be expected. Though her reaction was reserved, she was very keen on the idea of having a more direct hand in the care of the animals. (My new mantra: this is for her.)

Mr Hawke seemed surprised at the notion as well. There was a faintly impish light in his eyes when he smiled; I can already tell he's going to enjoy our lessons as well, for a different reason that I am resigned to grin and bear.'

While quickly referencing Caspar's conversation with Petrus, Lyall didn't feel it worth noting that he didn't really learn anything new about either of them. Neither offered much personal information, if any, unprompted, yet took enough of a casual interest in each other's stories to be able to talk past weather. They seemed on relatively friendly terms at this point. Progress, he decided to note.

Progress, he then quietly contemplated, glancing out at the medical books and travel logs and other records that still needed updating spread out around him. Arduous progress to be had on many fronts.

Try as her brother might, there was no hiding what any of them were doing from each other out here. Hild very quickly found out about Lyall and Cy's lessons in animal care, instructed by none other than James. So of course she was one of the first to hear about it. And, of course, she had to be there to see for herself.

Cypress took to the endeavor like a fish to water, and completely delighted in Elliot's playful if a bit mischievous personality. Lyall stayed rather quiet throughout the introductory lesson, indicative of his less-than-thrilled disposition about the affair (that he evidently proposed in the first place). Though James seemed mildly amused with it all, he was surprisingly gentle and sensitive as he tried to encourage Lyall in the process.

With a wiggly Lilya hoisted over his left shoulder, Caspar came around and sat by Hild. He extended a quick word of encouragement to both Lyall and Cy. Then, bending over and lowering his voice, asked, "How's he holding up?"

"I'm quite fine!" Lyall cut in, voice cracking with indignance.

"He's fine, apparently," Hild echoed flatly.

Caspar offered a smile and nod, then grimaced when Lyall begrudgingly turned his attention back to Elliot. Hild grinned in turn.

Amusing as this all was, she found herself marveling for a short moment at a human's capacity to change when given motivation enough to do so. Seven, almost eight years ago now, her brother never would have even entertained the thought of coming nearly so close to a horse. Not for one of Victor's dares, not even for money. Always insisted on walking all over Bastille, in fact, just to avoid close proximity with the animals.

Yet here her brother stood now, firmly though not very happily, reaching a hesitant hand out to a horse to offer a slice of apple. Because it made his daughter smile, happy that he was trying something new with her.

When James concluded their first lesson, Lyall immediately turned tail and practically ran. Cypress lingered for a little longer, giving Elliot a few more pats on the nose, before fitting herself in the spot between Caspar and Hild.

"I'm surprised he lasted that long," Hild commented.

"It was pretty short," Cypress answered with a shrug.

"Your Uncle James probably planned for that," Caspar said, "we've still got a ways to go. Can't hang around too long until then."

Hild glanced at him over Cy's head. He faintly shrugged, not seeming to catch the meaning of her look. The name 'Uncle James' still gave her pause. Not that it was a bad thing that the children were acknowledging him as family. Truly, it was endearing. It was just still slightly jarring.

"When can I ride a horse by myself?" Cypress asked.

"Not for a bit," James said as he gave Elliot's flank a quick brush down. "But we could easily put you up in the saddle with me leading Elliot."

"Oh," was all Cypress said in response.

"I suppose it all depends on your definition of what's soon or not soon enough," James added gently. "But you'll get there."

Cy nodded slowly, mildly reassured, if a bit resigned.

Lyall then called his daughters over with instructions to help clean up camp. Lilya, clambering down from where she'd settled on Caspar's shoulders, declared a foot race and took off in a sprint. Cy followed with a short complaint about head starts. Shouldering her already-packed bag, Hild fell into step beside James, and they both trailed behind Caspar as he led the way back at more of an amble.

Coming up alongside them, Mel bumped Caspar's shoulder with a small smile and looked over her shoulder to Hild.

"I don't know about you two," she said. "But I can't wait to sleep indoors by a real fire with insulated walls. It's the little things, you know?"

"Small comforts do make quite the difference," Hild agreed with a slight grin and nod in acknowledgement.

Caspar smiled warmly as he and Mel walked shoulder-to-shoulder. "How long's it been since you were there last?"

Mel huffed, and there was a cloud of air around her nose, coming out of her mouth.

"Oh, well, let me think," she said, pursing her lips and looking up into the sky. "It's really been quite a while. You know, I think it's been close to eight years."

"Quite a while to be away from home," Hild said sympathetically. As much as she looked to the trees northward with anticipation and even excitement, she dearly missed their old garden in Bastille to the east.

"A while indeed," Mel agreed. "But, we've been helping save many mages for all those years, and I have no regrets. By all means, it was worth it."

Hild smiled faintly in quiet admiration.

"Anymore family of yours at the guild?" Caspar asked, voice a little quieter, unsure if it was alright to ask.

Mel looked over to him, her expression softening.

"No," she said. "It's just me and Raj. But I do consider all of us mages as sort of... one big family, you know?"

Glancing back to Hild and James, Caspar nodded. "Yeah, I get that."

Hild playfully scrunched her nose at his sentimentality. He just huffed a laugh.

Mel offered Caspar a small smile and then looked to Hild and James.

"I hope you'll enjoy it," she said. "I've grown used to constant travel, but it'll be nice to settle in somewhere for a bit again."

"I'm sure we will," Caspar agreed wholeheartedly, facing forward again.

It was an optimistic outlook (predictably, considering it was Caspar). Based on their group of friends here, though, and extrapolating some aspects of their collective dynamic onto the far broader one of the guild, Hild decided it was perhaps a reasonable assumption. As a far larger sounding community, they weren't guaranteed to get along with everyone-- a simple fact of life, really. But the possibility of getting along well enough with most sounded nice.

The sentiment remained: they probably would like it there.

The next several days came and went as they normally did, just with the added entertainment of the horse care lessons. (When her brother offhandedly mentioned Bo's guidance toward the decision, Hild made a mental note to thank him for it.)

The weather turned stagnant. The heavy grey clouds were made a little brighter with the thick blanket of snow brilliantly reflecting what little light did phase through.

They passed over tracks left by all sorts of wildlife, which would encroach at night on occasion. Either for the warmth or out of curiosity, Hild couldn't say. Maybe both. She wished, maybe childishly, that some of the animals like the deer would come and greet them from a shorter distance, just so she could really see them. Observing from a distance was fine, though, and what she supposed she did best.

Speaking of observations, it didn't escape her notice that Caspar and Mel's friendship was budding into something new. Hild credited that to Caspar's complete lack of subtlety; she was self-aware enough to know that romance was an easy-to-miss thing for her.

Caspar, truly sometimes the last to know what he was about, finally caught on. He tried taking more sure (yet still small) steps forward. Initiated conversations more, didn't fumble through compliments as much, found little excuses to just spend time with her. He was trying, anyone with any perception could see that.

Mel, knowing that just regular socializing was oftentimes a challenge for him, appreciated his effort, and responded in kind. She was happy to take it slow, too, and had always been confident. Hild wondered if the doctor had prior romantic experience (past that initial 'asking out' stage, which Caspar never seemed to make it past).

Under the guise of simply wanting to poke fun at her brother, Hild found the animal lessons a good excuse to observe just how far Lyall and James's friendship had come. Though it was strained at the start in Ruddlan, part of her was always sure that they'd enjoy each other's company.

Lyall, for all his tediousness and having to shoulder so much responsibility since youth, was still a child at heart. His show of self-importance was only ever just a show. He was often funny with the intent of being so, and yet always so effortlessly; his secret was that he was just a silly person with the best intentions.

For James, a large part of keeping his head low throughout the years was constantly changing himself for those around him. Once the two were past the initial...road bump, James responded to his sincerity. He didn't change anything about himself, he didn't have to. Just opened up a little more, let his guard down, smiled and laughed more freely.

All this to say, they seemed to find a very wholesome companionship with each other, and Hild was endlessly gladdened by it.

On that note, she was discovering that, in the right company, James was quite silly too. Finding Lyall's daughters up in that tree one afternoon wasn't the surprise; it was looking even higher to see James and Lyall up there too. Though not as often as Bo or Calder, James indulged in the occasional pun and quietly delighted in the ensuing joy and/or exasperation.

Their most recent additions, the Rikks, slowly yet surely integrated more fully into their group, making for an overall less uncomfortable journey.

Larrel was a bright, resilient spirit. Once the dust from the uprooting of their lives had settled a little, and she and James had time to reconnect, she threw herself headlong into finding her place in the group and contributing whatever and wherever she could. Her mingling with everyone naturally eased the integration process along. She got along famously with Lyall. It came as a surprise to Hild, though perhaps it really shouldn't have.

While he tirelessly forged through his physical recovery, James steadily found his footing again with his mother. Both were likely very different people from how they last knew each other. Hild couldn't say for certain with Jane, of course, having not known her from before. But the resounding conclusion thus far was that people, given enough time, do change. Either in expected or unexpected ways. They hadn't quite hit a full stride yet, but they were far closer to the same wavelength now. With the two being in each other's company more comfortably, Hild began to see where James got his quieter, outwardly stoic nature.

He and David made a point to spend some more intentional time together, now that circumstances better allowed for a proper kindling. Though conversations remained fairly basic, friendly as they were, there was a sense that they shared at least a few key principles. And that usually made for a good foundation, one that already promised to have lasting effects. Jane didn't say much out loud, but the warmth in her eyes as she watched them spoke volumes. Not only did she get her son back after wondering for so long if he was even alive, but her family was a little closer to whole now as well.

A rift remained, sadly, regardless of the closed distance. On the nights James and Petrus were assigned joint watch, the only times anyone had a chance to talk one-on-one without the rest of the group sitting nearby as unwitting eavesdroppers, they never so much as looked at each other. Not for lack of trying on James's part, Hild knew.

She would note that Petrus was a pleasant young man, closed off as he became since the Rikks' arrival, and he had her empathies. Poor choices made irrationally during one's youth still had consequences. Petrus just seemed determined to not let go of James's.

During their watch lately, James opted to sit opposite the fire of Petrus's tightly bottled-up storm clouds. Nearer to where Hild was settled, where she could see clearly in the fire's light as a shadow of saddened resignation fell over his face. Bitterness always made victims of at least two people.

Hild would often reach out and quietly take James's hand in hers. For comfort, maybe. She wasn't sure, it was almost entirely instinctual now to simply reach and try to soothe hurt in what small ways she could. James would smile a little then and gently bid her goodnight, and she felt more assured that he wasn't too lost in regret.

Then morning would come, and the tension from the night prior seemed to vanish as if it was never there at all.

As they drew nearer to their destination, Robin grew even more diligent in scouting the surrounding areas. Taking care that they weren't leaving too many tracks, and that there weren't any tracks following them, took priority. It was vital that the heart of the mages' network stayed completely hidden. That said, he was never too busy to care for, and play a game or two with Lilya and Cy.

Bo remained very involved in nearly everything you could think of. He'd join the children and Robin in a game of tag, he stayed on top of their general inventory with Lyall and Caspar, ensured their horses' wellbeings with James and Raj throughout their travels in the less-than-ideal weather, cooked most of their meals with Mel (and kindly and patiently instructed Hild on the finer details of 'cooking' on the side, per her quiet determination to learn). All the while ensuring he checked in with everyone every once in awhile.

While information couldn't be given so freely out in the open (wide wilderness around them notwithstanding-- they could never be too careful), there were still day-to-day plans and chores for everyone to keep track of. With Bo in the midst of his impressive and delicate juggling act, Mel and Raj helped make sure their entire group was on the same page as they made what felt like slow progress northward.

The landscape around them stayed consistent. Hild often felt as though they weren't really going anywhere. Especially when the skies began to darken and the snow fell in heaps rather than a dusting.

Within seconds now, just under a day out from their destination, their tracks were conveniently obscured. But so were the woods in front of them. A piercing wind howled, the snow whipped sideways. They were forced to stop early for the evening. According to all members of their group who had prior experience with winters in the wilds, there was no estimating when the storm would die down.

"Could last a couple of weeks," Robin said simply, as several of them worked to clear the snow from the wagon, "maybe more. Could get worse, too."

"Delightful," Lyall muttered, then shouted into the wind, "What impeccable timing!"

There was a loud crunching, grinding sound from their left. Erupting out of the ground was an earthen wall, pushing up through the snow. Standing in front of it was Raj, arms extended.

"Everybody get close!" Bo shouted, waving everyone over. "It's about to get tight in here!"

Hild and James pulled the horses at the back of the group closer. As they gathered tightly, everyone seemed to look around to check that all were accounted for. Hild had only enough time to count the members of her own family before rough stone plates to their collective right jutted upward and met the first wall at an angle, creating a pitched tent effect, and plunging them into near-darkness.

And then, a light. A crackling, blue energy briefly sparked in the darkness, and then caught flame. In the middle of the crowded earthen tent stood Bo, holding a small torch, face dramatically shadowed by the flickering light.

Outside, they could still hear the winds whistling as they rushed around the opening left at one end, and now the pounding of snow and wind against their shelter.

"Alright, I'm going to call out a name, and if it's yours, sound off," Bo said.

"Lyall," he started.

"Regretfully here," Lyall said, rubbing his hands together until he sparked a flame of his own.

"You could be out there," Hild countered, nodding toward the shelter's opening.

"Thankfully here," he amended.

"Cypress," Bo moved on.

Cy swung her hand upward, accidentally smacking the fire out of Lyall's hands.

"Lilya," Bo continued.

"I'm right here," she yelled from where she clung to Caspar's back.

"Also here," Caspar said, quieter as he nervously glanced at the impromptu walls.

"Jane and I are here," David's voice spoke up. "Larrel and Petrus as well."

"James and I have the horses," Hild said.

"And Raj and I are here, too," Mel added.

There was a small pause.

"Robin?" Bo asked.

"What?" Robin said, head popping up from behind the wagon.

"Good," was all Bo said with a nod. "All here. Well, we're going to be cooped up in here for a while. Let's start with pushing some of this snow off to the sides so we can clear away some of the ground for a fire."

There was a quiet bustle as they got to work clearing out the snow and setting up camp. As best they could in fairly close quarters. Once Caspar arranged some wood in the middle of the space, Lyall sat with Lilya in his lap and the two lit the kindling beneath the logs.

There was a gentler rumbling behind the sounds of shuffling and setting things down. Hild looked up and watched in silent awe as Raj carefully shifted the stones around them, trying to make a slightly more comfortable space and creating a narrow opening at the top through which the smoke could escape.

The mages of their group utilized their gifts in casual, every-day ways, so magic felt more normal for Hild now than it did at Ruddlan. Still, there were moments such as this where she could only sit back and be amazed by it.

Next to her, Lilya waved her arm about, drawing shapes with small trails of sparks in the air. She and Cy counted the amount of sides she drew, then concluded which shapes they were.

Lyall took Lilya's hands and playfully wiggled them around as he murmured, "No playing with fire, Lily Pad."

Groaning, Lilya sprawled out over his legs. "But I'm borrred."

With an amused grin, Lyall just lightly drummed on her back until she scrambled out of his lap, giggling. Hild smiled faintly as she watched Lilya then take refuge on Caspar's shoulders. Caspar hunched over a little more, to keep Lilya from bumping her head on the slanted wall. Now that Lyall's lap was free, Cy scooted in and settled back against his chest.

"What I wouldn't give," Lyall said quietly as his daughter idly rubbed his hands together, "for a real hearth, and a real bed, under a real roof."

Next to Hild, James finally sat down, departing from the horses. He didn't say anything, but turned and offered her a small smile.

"With a new book," Hild added softly, moving closer to James and leaning her head on his shoulder, "and a hot cup of chamomile."

"You two used to be the life of a party," Caspar said with a teasing grin.

"A party's a good idea," Lyall agreed, "I could use some new faces."

"Tired of us already?" James asked.

Lyall laughed. "Overexposure is driving me to insanity."

Caspar huffed with feigned offense. "You wound me."

Lyall shrugged. "The party was your idea."

"What party are we talking about?" James asked.

"One," Caspar answered, unable to keep a smile off his face, "where he apparently, cold-heartedly, replaces us."

"Oh," James said, turning to Lyall. "Replaced with whom?"

"Literally anybody," Lyall said, straight-faced.

"You can't replace family," Hild cut in with mock indignation.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lyall agreed, shaking his head. Then leaned toward James and added in a loud whisper, "I don't fancy getting on her bad side."

"Neither do I," James whispered back, though Hild only barely caught it.

Hild reached over and swatted at her brother. He leaned away, laughing.

"I think it's too late for you, Lyall," James joked with a soft laugh.

Lyall nodded. "I'm sleeping with one eye open from here on out."

"You physically can't, you sleep like a log," Caspar countered. He gestured with his arm to Lyall and added somberly, "He is a goner."

"You'll be missed," James offered. "I guess we'll have to replace you at the party instead."

Lyall gasped, affronted. "And I considered you two friends."

"You implied a backstabbing first," Caspar said.

"Is this the backstab to the backstabbing then?" James questioned.

Caspar hummed in thought. "Preemptive backstabbing."

"Betrayal, is what it is!" Lyall lamented.

Shaking her head, Hild sat back now and silently watched the three with fond exasperation.

Their shenanigans eventually calmed and ended with a bout shushing at each other as everyone else gradually turned in early for the night. They were truly ridiculous sometimes, and Hild wouldn't have it any other way.

Per the usual pattern, her brother was one of the first to fall asleep; James and Caspar, the last. Hild found herself kept awake by the winds outside as well, and by the delayed imminence of their own arrival.

After hours of tossing and turning, something broke up the sound of whistling wind. There was a deep crunch - a grating of rock against rock. Hild had come to associate it with the sound of earth magic, but only when Raj was awake, and as far as she knew, he was asleep.

Hild pushed herself upright and watched as one of the earthen walls turned. As if plucked up by the ends, it rose into the air, vertical to the ground. Its shadow was dark against the constant downfall of stark white snow, pale and dim in the clouded night. The wind blew in, snuffing the life out of their fire, and plunging them into darkness.

"Oops," she heard a voice said faintly, and then three walls rose out of the earth, holding up the formerly suspended block of rock.

At this point, the sudden gust of cold wind and the absence of light had grabbed most everyone's attention. The Rikks stirred. Some of the mages, and James and Caspar, had already jumped to their feet, alert and ready.

Bo's blue light sparked, a flame ignited. The torch in his hands was only bright enough to cast his face in shadow.

"Oh hey, Bo!" a feminine voice called out. "Long time no see."

"Clandestine," a more masculine voice said softly. "A light."

"Oh! Right," she said. After a moment's delay, there was a bright, warm light. A flame, originating from the new extension of their tent, held in the hand of the woman. She was standing next to a short man, and the two of them were fully clothed in thick, winter furs.

The woman had a hat on, but what Hild could make of her face, she had a light brown complexion, and big, bright eyes. Straight, dark hair peeked out around her face. Though clearly padded with layers of clothing, her steady posture conveyed that she was sturdy, and strong.

The man next to her was of a smaller stature, and pulled down his hood to reveal long, grey hair pulled back into two grey braids. He, too, had light brown skin, though his looked more tanned and a bit spotted from age. He had a calm, kind look about his face, and seemed to have been the one responsible for the earth magic.

"Sorry about the wind," he said in apology. "And to have woken you all so abruptly. It took us a moment to get to you in all of this snow, but you've made it this far. We'll give the extra help to make sure you make it the rest of the way."

He paused, looking down at the ground as various forms began to roll over, sit up, and rub their eyes.

"Once you're all ready," he said. "I'll give you all a moment to get your bearings. And... probably wake one another."

He let out a small laugh at that, though it didn't seem without empathetic understanding.

Stepping around their still-rousing companions, Bo's long legs carried him over to the man quickly, and he picked the small man up, wrapping him in a tight hug. The smaller man let out another small laugh, and, too wrapped up to even return the hug, merely smiled.

"Good to see you, Mickey," Bo said tenderly, just loud enough to overhear.

"You too, Bo," Mickey said. "It's been too long."

Bo set the man down gently and then turned to the woman - Clandestine - and their conversation turned too quiet to make out over the howling winds.

The campfire was quickly relit. Though appearing disgruntled, Lyall stayed quiet and watched the three converse with a curious spark in his eyes. Both his daughters practically hid behind him. They peeked around him with the same inquisitiveness.

Larrel slowly swirled her head around as she got to her feet, and she helped up Petrus, who looked asleep while standing. James had gone over and helped his mother and David up.

To the side, Mel and Raj could be seen leaning on one another, both of them looking half-awake, though it seemed they were attempting to look otherwise. Behind them, Robin trotted past to join Bo and the other two.

Behind Hild, however, the horses seemed to grow restless, stomping their feet and softly huffing in discomfort. Shaking herself from her own shock of the surprise arrival, Hild stood and brushed herself off. On her way to the back, she pulled along a still-slightly rattled Caspar to check that he was alright too.

He waved it off, and turned his attention to Eir instead. The mare settled as he murmured reassurances, but she kept a wary eye on the new arrivals.

Bo's and Raj's steeds were significantly calmer, likely from familiarity with everything already. Elliot and Penumbra, though seasoned travelers themselves, were still very unused to this kind of magic on this scale. They fidgeted and glanced about nervously.

"They don't like being closed in like this," Hild said quietly as she stroked Penumbra's nose.

"That makes a few of us," Caspar mumbled, glancing up at the low ceiling. Despite his empty hands, there was a noticeable tremble.

Pursing her lips, Hild made a mental note to mention to Lyall sometime.

Looking over her shoulder, Hild found James's eyes through the quiet bustle, then glanced questioningly to his family. He offered a small nod, though his eyes seemed tired. He must not have fallen asleep; hence his readiness when Mickey and Clandestine showed unexpectedly. This didn't surprise Hild, though she, probably unrealistically, hoped that he had gotten some deeper rest. In all honesty, she felt as tired as James looked.

Waving an arm, Bo called for everyone's attention at this point.

"Mickey is going to take us underground," he announced loudly, projecting over the storm. "If you have an animal in your care, please attend to it, as they'll likely get restless in the journey. It'll be about an hour's walk, but once we get there, we'll find you a place to rest as quickly as possible, and you can sleep as long as you want. Just a little bit further. Everyone make sure you have all your belongings, and your people too. Follow the light."

Clandestine, the woman holding the open palm with the flame, waved the bright light as indication. She backed away a little as Mickey stepped forward.

There was a small pause as a deep groan within the earth was heard.

This was different from what Hild had seen Raj do. Not in function, but something felt different about the... scope, of this gentleman's power.

The earth gave way in front of Mickey, and instead of a roughly carved out tunnel, there was a smoothly angled ramp, leading at a reasonable incline down below. It was clear Mickey was taking the horses into account, as the hole grew wider, and the shelter overhead seemed to stretch with it. All of this with a gentle but firm movement of his arms and hands.

Mickey glanced over his shoulder and waved a hand. Clandestine looked back as well, flashing everyone a smile before the two of them let the way down. Bo hung behind, beginning to wave everyone along.

Robin hurried after them on all fours. Larrel seemed much more awake and was dragging her brother with her while Jane and David followed at a slower pace.

James had come over to join Hild and the horses, taking Elliot's lead rope. He looked to Hild and nodded in the direction of the ramp before leading Elliot towards their exit. Raj and Mel followed over as well, taking Midnight and Rusty, hooking up the latter to the cart to pull it the rest of the way.

Taking Penumbra, Hild slowed as she passed her brother. As he swung a bag up onto his shoulder, he flashed her an easy, reassuring smile. Before he could say anything, Bo called for him from the back.

"Stay with your Aunt Hild, alright?" Lyall said. "Lily, we might need some light in the middle of our convoy here."

With a determined nod, Lilya ran ahead of Hild and vigorously rubbed her little hands together. Meanwhile, Lyall found his way to Bo's side at the back of their group. Hild momentarily watched her brother go, then looked ahead to the newly-made shaft before them.

An instinct that had served to keep her safe in the past years kept her rooted in place now, just for a second. The uncertainty of what lied ahead was suddenly overwhelming, and a part of her wanted to turn back. For the familiarity of what already came, because she was better prepared for that.

Cypress hesitated beside her. Hild, emboldened despite her own fear, held out a hand to her. Taking it in both of hers, Cy kept close.

Their group, led by Mickey and Clandestine, followed veins of white quartz deeper into the earth. The shaft walls, though only dimly lit, were clearly made by masterful hands. They were smooth, as though water had shaped them over the course of many years. The air around them grew frigid.

In the flickering lights provided by Lyall and Clandestine, as well as Lilya at the center of their march, Hild caught James frequently glancing back over his shoulder. His face was cast in shadows for the most part. There was a slight weariness in the way he walked though; exhausted, but pushing through it for now.

Cypress beside her took more sure steps now that they'd started. Her grip on Hild's hand relaxed, but never relented.

Hild heard her brother murmur a quick, "Almost there." She looked back in time to catch Caspar's tense nod in acknowledgment.

Finally, after what felt like more than an hour, the tunnel came to an end. Instead of opening it up further, Mickey reached forward and with a gentle turning of his hands, carved out... two double doors.

Bo took went to the front and rested his hand on the door handle, looking back at Mickey.

"Raj and Mel," Mickey said. "I'll help you take the horses. The rest of you go on ahead."

Bo nodded, and waved to everyone else as he pushed the door open, holding it open for everyone to flood inside.

Hild relinquished Penumbra's reins-- with some small hesitation since she didn't know exactly where the horses were going-- handing them over to Mel with a slight smile and nod.

Catching Hild's uncertainty, Mel gently reassured her, "We stable them elsewhere. I'll show you where when you get settled in and get some rest, but we'll take care of them. Don't worry."

"How soon will we meet up with you again?" Caspar asked as he handed Eir off to Raj.

"You probably won't see us until after you sleep, but we'll see you tomorrow. Later in the morning, most likely," Mel answered.

Nodding, he lightly brushed his hand to hers and said warmly, "Until then."

Hild noticed that Mel's expression seemed to falter; surprised, and a little flustered, but she smiled.

"Until then," she echoed, looking up at him with affection clear in her eyes.

Ducking her head to stay out of the way (and to hide an amused smile), Hild quickly took her leave then and joined Cy once more.

Through the doors, they entered a generously-sized room, furnished with comfortable seating angled around tables and in corners. Lamps settled on each table lit one half of the room in a soft yellow light. A rusty red rug with brown and navy floral patterns and accents ran the length of the room, leading everyone to the back where there was a deep hearth with a bright fire. The mantle had some two-dozen books lined up on top, with pine sprigs and little trinkets filling the spaces between. The line of books seemed to only spread outward like tree roots, spilling over into built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace.

The warmth of the room was a very welcome respite from the winter outside. Hild shed her damp coat and folded it over her arm as she breathed in the comfort of the room. She was about to make a beeline for the bookshelves when a man behind a desk in the far corner lazily spun his seat around to face them, with a smoking pipe and papers in hand.

"Hiya," he began in a smooth, well-practiced tone, "welcome, travelers. Forgive my tediousness at this ungodly hour, but there's--"

The rest of his opening died when his eyes landed on Hild. He jumped out of his seat when Lyall stepped in, easing one of the doors shut behind himself.

"Dragons--!" the man started, and that sounded far more familiar.

Lyall whipped around. "Ulf?!"

The man-- their brother tossed aside his pipe in a tray and the papers across the desk, then rounded the desk in the blink of an eye. Hild only had a second to lift her arms and prepare herself for the incoming embrace.

At first glance, she didn't immediately recognize Ulf. He still kept his hair short-- in favor of growing more of it on his face, it seemed. There was a lightness to the way he spoke that was different too. His hugs, though, tight and engulfing, were the same as ever.

Hild flung her arms around him (as best she could; Ulf was broad like their father) and clutched the back of his sweater. Her eyes were wet. Unable to form a response in her shock, she simply hid her face in his shoulder.

"Ulf?" Lyall repeated, laughing incredulously. "Were--"

"No, no questions yet," Ulf said, loosening his hold on Hild for only a moment to drag Lyall into the embrace too.

Lyall leaned into them with another, warmer laugh. "Were you going to use a standard, 'any ol' body' greeting on long-lost family?"

Ulf just shushed him and squeezed a little tighter in response. Hild laughed, a little more tearfully than she cared to admit. They drew away, still holding on loosely in a sort of small huddle, to really look at each other.

"Wilderness receptionist looks good on you," Lyall said first with a broad grin.

"You both have loosened up too." With a smile, Ulf gestured to the traces of blond in her hair. "Did you...?"

Rolling her eyes, Hild huffed playfully. "Dyed, yes, and never again--" She shook Ulf's shoulder and asked abruptly, "Therese and the children?"

"All well," Ulf answered warmly, "and at home right now. Probably asleep."

"Ugh," Lyall went, looking tired at the mere mention of sleep, "I envy them."

"They'll love seeing you again." Ulf pointed his chin past them. "Friends?"

"Yes-- Ah!" Quickly straightening again, Lyall twisted around and waved an arm. "Kiddos first."

Ulf brightened further, were it possible.

At full speed, Lilya came and lept up at her father. There was a moment's pause when Ulf introduced himself, but Lilya warmed to him in an instant when Lyall introduced him as 'Uncle Ulf'. Cy approached at a more cautious pace, keeping a skeptical eye on him. She waited politely by Lyall as he gave their names.

In the midst of warm greetings to the children and an offer to snacks, Ulf's gaze turned confused and hesitant as he scanned the faces around the room. Hild didn't know how to explain the two missing from their number.

Glancing down at the floor, Lyall hid his hands in his pockets. "In a sec, we'll talk, alright?"

Recovering from his confusion, Ulf nodded once before ushering them over to the hearth. "If I'd known it'd be you two, I would've come out myself to see you in."

"It's better you stayed here," Hild said. "The sentiment alone is well appreciated."

"We were all squished back there," Lilya said with a nod.

Ulf laughed and agreed, "Here is much comfier."

Lyall made to sit down, then jumped up with another, "Oh!" Waving both arms wildly, he called, "Friends! Introductions abound!"

It was then that Hild remembered herself and the rest of the room. Their group busied themselves with things like doffing winter layers and looking around to keep from staring. She imagined their reunion filled the space quite a bit more than it perhaps should have.

Ulf's face lit up with a smile of recognition. He gestured to the mages loosely clustered around one of the tables. "It seems you were accompanied by the best of our best."

Bo and Robin looked at each other, and Bo laughed lightly.

"It's been a long time, Ulf," Bo said. "Didn't know you were on the job tonight, otherwise I'd have given you a heads' up."

"I try to expect the unexpected at this point," Ulf replied breezily as he went to greet him. "It's a very pleasant surprise-- delightful, lovely, that our newest arrivals happen to be my family." He held out a hand and added a heartfelt, "Thank you, Bo."

Bo shook his hand firmly, and pulled Ulf into a brief hug, patting his back.

"Of course," was all Bo said quietly before he pulled away. He glanced at Ulf's abandoned desk, and gestured loosely. "Maybe we could knock out introductions and paperwork at the same time? I think all these guys are eager to get to sleep soon. We got stuck out in the blizzard."

"Hm?" Ulf blinked. "Ah, yes!"

Whirling back around, he grabbed the stack of messily discarded documents, straightened them out again, and tacked them onto a board to carry with him. He mumbled idly to himself for a few moments as he wrote in a loose, neat scrawl.

"Any relations?" he read under his breath, then chuckled delightedly and answered himself, "Why yes, of course. Me!"

Hild smiled fondly. Though she used to complain that she couldn't think with background noise, she'd missed his idle rambling.

Clearing his throat and schooling his features, Ulf then got down to brass tacks. There were questions pertaining to locations when found, dates, checkpoints during their travels, the members of the rescue team involved. Hild hummed appreciatively at the thoroughness of it all as she scanned the page over Ulf's shoulder. Lyall offered his own meticulous records of his past year and beyond, which their brother gladly referenced for efficiency's sake.

Once Lyall and his daughters' information was taken down, Hild quietly found and pulled aside James and Caspar to relay the details of their Ruddland encounter/reunion.

"That's Uncle James and Cassie," Lilya offered as they gathered by the desk.

Ulf turned a surprised look to James. Unable to fully refute and looking rather trapped for it, James could only stare blankly back.

"Not like that," Hild cut in quickly.

"He's kind of like family," Lyall supplied simultaneously.

"Well, no," Hild corrected herself, "yes. Like that, but just sort of."

"He's been a good friend, see," Lyall went on next to her, "and the kids have really taken to him."

Somewhere behind them, she could hear Caspar stifling laughter.

"He and I are partners," Hild said, putting a firm stop to their tripping over themselves.

Looking between the three of them, Ulf went from bemused to quite amused fairly quickly. Setting down the papers and standing again, he offered a hand and warm smile to James. "A pleasure to meet you, like-family, good-friend, sort-of-yes partner of my sister."

James offered a weak, tired smile in return, and took his hand.

"I promise it's not that complicated," James said. "Hild and I are dating. That's all."

"The surprises keep on coming," Ulf said, his smile broadening.

Hild gave him a flat look. "Very funny."

Chuckling, he picked up the papers again. "Under what name shall I put you, Mr James?"

James hesitated. Casting a sideways look in the direction of his family, he answered quietly.

"Rikk," he said faintly. "Two 'k's."

"James Rikk," Ulf echoed softly. His pen scratched away at the paper without a second thought.

Hild glanced at James, catching a sort of somberness in his eyes. Looking to the fire then, she silently slipped her arm around his. He glanced her way, but didn't meet her eyes.

Flipping the page to the next, Ulf cycled through the same questions. Relatives, location and time of meeting the mages, any other notable details surrounding their current circumstances. James kept it short, for the sake of getting through the record-keeping process as quickly and cleanly as possible.

There were many implications and unmentioned details that Hild knew her brother caught onto. Quiet and nonreactive as ever, though, Ulf glanced up only once in the middle of it, and kept a relaxed hand as he simply transcribed what he was given. Any tells he did have to betray his true thoughts on a matter were still too subtle for her to pick up on, it seemed, and she found that mildly exasperating.

Waving his pen in a circle, Ulf turned and said, "Cassie, right?"

Caspar stood a little straighter. "Uh, nickname." He set a hand over his heart. "Caspar Calderson."

In an instant, Ulf brightened again. "Lyall's friend?"

He reached out, and they clasped hands in a quick firm shake. Then Ulf tugged the taller man into a tight hug, which Caspar wasn't prepared for, but took with a smile all the same.

"He wrote a lot about you," Ulf said, drawing away. "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

Caspar just ducked his head with a huffed laugh. "Uh, you as well. He's spoken very fondly of you and yours."

With a lingering smile, Ulf flipped through some more pages, asked the same questions. Caspar didn't build anymore on what James had already given. Ulf was genuinely alright with that.

Caspar also neglected to list any relatives. Which earned him an odd look from Hild, and Ulf's same affable, unreadable silence. James only gave him a brief glance. Caspar fidgeted under their collective attention, but didn't elaborate, and Ulf didn't press.

Setting aside the filled forms and taking out new ones, Ulf stepped around the desk. "I won't keep you here much longer," he said with a small smile. "I'll ask my same boring questions to everyone else, should only take a few minutes if there isn't much else to add to your notes. Then you'll be well on your way to a hopefully solid night's rest, hm?"

He gave Lyall's shoulder a hearty pat, and Hild another quick hug, then made his way around the room. True to his word, it didn't take long at all. Hild hardly had time to pick a book at random and read beyond the first chapter. (She blamed her sluggish comprehensive skills on sheer exhaustion; the warmth of the crackling fire didn't help her alertness either.)

Packing away the papers in a case, then tucking the case under his arm, Ulf stood by the fireplace, cleared his throat, and thank them for their patience and cooperation. Sweeping an arm toward the mages, he kindly granted them entry beyond the reception room.

After exchanging a few quick words with Ulf, Bo bowed his head in thanks and led the way once more, taking them to the door at the back of the room.

"Rooms are this way," he said.

Hild went to put the book back where she found it. She paused when she realized she lost its original spot, though.

Slipping the book from her hands, Ulf pulled her into one more side-hug. "Rest up, bug," he said softly.

Hild hummed a laugh. "Hadn't heard that one since..."

"Mom?" Ulf finished with a smaller smile. "Yeah."

Lyall gave their brother a playful hair ruffle, then they all bid each other a quick, "See you tomorrow."

Bo took them down a corridor, a little wider than the one Mickey had made for them. The patterned rug of the reception room gave way to hardwood floors. The walls around them were finished-- polished, even. Carved into the panels of various stone were emulations of nature above them. Florals, organic shapes reminiscent of winding waters and airy clouds, trees. The lit lamps along the length of the hall more than made up for the lack of windows, and vents near the ceiling were consistently placed about thirty paces apart.

Eventually with a right turn, the hallway opened further. A few padded benches were aligned in the center. The stone walls were broken up by numerous doors to various bedrooms. Temporary resting spots, Hild gathered, when she peeked into one to find sturdy yet purely functional furnishings.

As they went, the Rikks initially glanced between one another, then seemed to reach a tacit agreement as they split up. Larrel and Petrus were gladdened by the opportunity to finally have some personal space-- Hild felt the same. There was a second where Jane hesitated. With a small smile as he took her hands in his, David just softly bid her goodnight. Jane relaxed, and they slipped from each other's grasps to take a separate room each.

Lyall lingered in the hallway for a moment to talk with Bo, then herded his kids into a room with him. Without further ado, Lilya dashed inside and leapt up onto the bed with Cy close behind her. After giving everyone a last cursory glance-- quickly checking for wellbeings, out of habit-- Lyall left the door cracked open behind him.

Hild meandered, then found a doorway to stand under as she studied one of the rooms a little closer. Some had multiple beds; this one was well-suited to just one individual. The floor was carpeted, and tall standing lamp kept the space comfortably lit for this late hour.

When she heard more 'goodnight's exchanged behind her, she wandered in and dropped her bag by the door. She found an extra blanket in the bottom-most drawer of the dresser and decided, yes. Couldn't find the energy to change, so simply wrapped herself in the blanket as she fell back into bed.

There were shuffling sounds from the hallway as the rest of their group situated themselves. Lights clicked off. Hild remembered that she left hers on, just as sleep finally took over.

Early in the morning (so it felt, anyhow, it was hard to judge without sunlight or the watch Hild never returned), Caspar slipped out of the temporary room he'd shared with Lyall and his kids. The Ashlunds were piled onto one bed. He took the floor next to the other. The sounds of shuffling about woke his friend for just a moment; after Caspar reassuranced him that he wasn't going far, Lyall dropped back again and was out like a light in the next instant.

Maybe it was a premature promise, Caspar realized when he ran into Bo's good friend Mickey out in the hallway. They exchanged pleasantaries, quietly since everyone (probably) else still seemed to be asleep, talked amiably. Then the mage offered to show him around the first floor since he headed that way. Undeniably curious as to how the long-anticipated Mages' Guild actually looked, Caspar couldn't say no.

With a population of over five thousand (and gradually growing), the guild turned out to be more like an underground city, split into three floor levels total. Mickey walked him through wide corridors that split off into kitchens, communal rooms, libraries and classrooms, even public gardens at many junctions.

Caspar found himself quite taken with all the plantlife in one garden, so vibrant and varied, despite being hidden away with them deep below the earth. There were some handfuls of fellow early-risers tending to the plants. He followed Mickey's gesture skyward to the glass panels of the ceiling that let in a muted light through the snow. Mickey explained that, were it not for the winter storm brewing above, their earth mages would open it up to let in sunlight and fresh air.

Seeming to catch Caspar's wishing to linger here awhile, Mickey excused himself, having his own duties to attend to. Though not without quickly adding where to find Ulf and his family, since their quadrant was where the group could expect to find spaces made and ready for them to move in. Caspar thanked him for the impromptu run down, and they bid each other good morning. Despite having what sounded like a full day ahead of him, Mickey slipped out of the garden area at a relaxed pace.

Caspar meandered between the beds of vegetables, and watched a moment as a few mages worked (from inside! using magic!) to clear some snow from atop the ceiling. The spaciousness and the sheer amount of green here was a strangely immense relief, honestly. And so was the availability of fresh air and direct sunlight in better weather.

He recalled it being mentioned that there were non-mage residents here. Sympathizers, they were called, who protected those with magic like they were their own flesh and blood. Caspar wondered how many.

Wandering back out of the garden (and not without one more backward glance), he meant to head back to the temporary rooms. As the guild gradually awoke with the morning, though, the main corridors filled up-- with humans mostly, but also a good mix of goblins and some harpies, and he'd never seen such variety in one place before-- and he was quickly swept up in a stream of people.

The ceilings of the main halls were comfortably high. Slightly pitched, which created an airiness, and with sturdy wooden beams and some crown molding that warmed the spaces overhead. Entryways were often double-doored, likely to account for heavier flow of foot traffic and winged folk, and rounded into arches at the tops, softening the stone walls around them. The place didn't feel as closed in as he originally would've guessed based on the reception room.

Caspar began bumping into people, though. Probably predictably. Embarrassing all the same. Folks began casting him curious or concerned glances. He took a sharp turn right, escaping the people-stream into one of the libraries. For a moment, he did wish that it was a kitchen instead. Books were nice too, though, so he wandered deeper in.

Closer to the entrance to the library space were what he presumed were the children's books. Most of these volumes had illustrations, larger fonts, were more varied in size. The deeper he went, the more academic the books became, and the words harder to read. He circled back toward the front and found a book of eastern folktales (abridged for younger audiences) and found a table.

It was when it occured to him that, if he brought his bag with him, he could've practiced writing while he was here, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Twisting around, Caspar couldn't help his smile when he found it was Mel.

"I had a feeling you'd wander off somewhere," she said.

Shrugging, he conceded, "Nothing if not predictable."

"Did someone show you around at all?" Mel asked.

"Yeah, Mickey for a bit. He had things to do, though, so we parted ways at one of the gardens." Caspar slid over and gestured to the space beside him on the bench.

With a small curtsy, she sat down beside him.

"Have you eaten yet?" Mel asked.

"Haven't found the kitchen again," he answered with a slight shake of his head. "You?"

"Not yet," Mel said with a small grin. "Would you like me to show you the way back to the dining hall?"

Caspar closed the book. "Yes, please." Hesitating, he asked, "Do I leave this with someone, or...?"

"Do you remember where you found it?" Mel asked with a tilt of her head.

He cast a lost look over his shoulder at the shelves. With a fluttering of heavy wings, someone (the librarian probably) appeared beside him out of nowhere and insisted she shelve it herself. Caspar hardly had time to agree or thank her before the book in his hands was simply gone, and the librarian disappeared behind a shelf with a quick, "Thank you," of her own, and a conclusive shake of her wings.

With that taken care of, he turned back to Mel and said, "Lead the way."

With a bright smile, Mel got to her feet and offered her hand. Rising as well, Caspar awkwardly took it in a sort of cross between a handshake and...well, he wasn't sure what else, but he was confused as to why she offered.

Instead of letting go, Mel held his hand and began to gently tug on his arm, pulling him towards the door. Must've been so he didn't get lost again, he realized as he briefly flushed with embarrassment.

Expertly, she navigated them through the main halls. Stopped to quickly greet a few people on the way, exchanged pleasantries in a manner that suggested she and these people were fairly familiar. Caspar stayed quiet as he listened, let himself be pulled along, and tried not to stare too obviously at some folks.

The dining hall, when they at last found it, was busy. Same tall ceilings with wooden beams. It was tavern-like, with tables and benches, lit chandeliers. People helped themselves to food via a line, then gathered to eat together, swap news and stories.

Caspar lingered in the doorway, simply to take it all in. Mel gave his arm another tug, leading them sideways to get in line. When she finally let go of his hand, it was to hand him a plate.

"I hope you're hungry," she said, grabbing a plate of her own. "Personally, I'm eager to eat something freshly baked. It's been too long since I've had some good bread."

Just as she turned to advance down the line, a voice called out from behind Caspar.

"Mel?" a higher, feminine voice asked.

Mel whipped around, recognition clear on her face.

"Dinny!" she said, already bending down a little at the knees.

Rushing out from behind Caspar was a small goblin woman, no more than four feet tall. She threw herself into Mel's arms and they embraced, Mel picking her up off her feet. Together, they laughed for a moment until Mel set Dinny back down on her feet.

Caspar got a better view of the small goblin woman when she turned to face him. She had thick, curly black hair that spiralled into ringlets around her face, two teeth jutting out over her bottom lip, and long, droopy ears that stuck out on either side of her head. He eyes were a bright yellow-green, and her skin was a muted green tone, reminiscent of summer grass. She wore a dark pink dress and a fur-lined leather jacket over it, along with fur-lined leather boots.

She quickly shot out a hand to Caspar to shake, and Caspar noticed her sharper nails.

"Hello," she said in a quiet but friendly voice. "I'm Dinny. What's your name?"

This had to be the closest to a goblin he'd ever stood.

Benidng down a little and giving her hand a small, firm shake, Caspar smiled politely. "Caspar. You're a friend of Mel?"

That had an obvious answer, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah," Dinny said. "We've been friends for a few years. When did you get in?"

"Uh, just last night, actually," he answered.

"Ah, that makes sense," Dinny said. "It takes a while to get familiar with the place."

She glanced between Mel and Cas, noting their empty plates.

"I'll get in line behind you," she said with a sheepish bow of her head. "Didn't mean to interrupt you getting food."

"It's alright, Din," Mel said with a smile. "It's good to see you."

Dinny nodded with a small smile and then tucked in the line behind Caspar.

"You've been here awhile then, Ms Dinny?" he eventually asked, once they were a little ways down the line.

"Oh," Dinny said, looking a little surprised to be addressed. "Well, I come and go a lot. Rescue and reconnaissance."

It was clear she very carefully pronounced the last word.

"Oh, wow," he said with open admiration. "Have you worked with Mel before?"

"Yeah, we worked together a lot in the early days," Dinny said with a smile.

"Early days for me," Mel said with a chuckle. "Not for her."

"I'm older than I look," Dinny said with a small smile, somehow simultaneously bashful and devious.

"Ah," he said with a faint grin, "pardon me."

"When Raj and I first joined," Mel explained. "Dinny was on the team that first found us."

Caspar nodded, wondering just how far back that was. Then decided that Mel might have mentioned it before, but couldn't be too sure.

"How did you and Mel meet?" Dinny inquired, shuffling behind them as the line moved forward.

Mel started scooping food onto her plate. Eggs, potatoes, mixed fruits.

"Uh, under very...interesting circumstances, one could say," Caspar began slowly as he pored over their options. The shuffling along single file for food was a vaguely familiar process; though, in the galley of a small trade ship, one didn't have the luxury of actually choosing what you ate.

"Right outside of Ruddlan," he went on, following suit and basically replicating Mel's plate. "Some friends and I had an unsavory run-in with some unsavory folks. Uh, hunters. Mel, Bo, and other friends arrived on the scene in time to help us out of that."

"We were glad we made it in time to help," Mel added. "It was a bit of a mess, but thankfully, everyone was alright in the end."

Dinny nodded, seeming to catch on to the unspoken nuance.

"Sounds like an adventure," Dinny said, and then looked to Caspar's plate before she started piling food onto her own. "Hopefully you'll enjoy the escape from the dangers down here for a while. It's nice to have some time to recover."

Caspar hummed in quiet agreement. Adventure was nice, but lately he really could do with less of it.

Dinny sat with them for breakfast. She was kind, asked a few more questions. Caspar shared the basics, and got to know a little about her as well. But he was quite happy with simply fading into the background of the conversation for a bit while the two friends took time to catch up with each other. Gave him a few more moments to take in the bustle of the dining hall around them, and to savor the fresh fruit.

They were sat at a long table, with long benches at either side. People he (obviously) didn't know and that Mel and Dinny didn't take too much notice of, filled or left the spaces around them. Some sat with friends too, chatting or poking fun at each other. One settled with just their food and what he assumed was a good book for company, content in their own little subspace.

The title, he was able to decipher fairly quickly. It looked like a technical text, on botany. The Ashlunds would appreciate it.

Speaking of, the rest of their traveling group did eventually wake for the day. Some later than others so that, throughout the morning, they slowly but surely accumulated into a single entity again. The last of them (ie Lyall and his kiddos) joined in time for when Ulf swung by with his wife and litter of three. Evidently the trademark of his branch of the Ashlund tree was spine-crushing hugs; there was an audible crack when Ulf's wife swept up an unsuspecting Hild into a tight embrace.

After another round of formal introductions, Ulf helped everyone get acquainted with the residents' sector. He had arranged for Lyall with Cy and Lily, and Hild to move into the living spaces flanking his own. Caspar, James, and the Rikks were nearby too; for the familiarity of each others' presence, but with slightly more breathing space between them.

Dropping his (one) bag on the floor of his...house? Apartment-- didn't feel very significant on its own. But scanning the near-empty place with the distant expectation of making it a home was odd. Unreal, maybe even like a weird joke. As he wandered aimlessly through, he simply wondered, "Is this really mine?"

Logically, the reality of it simply hadn't sunk in yet. And maybe it was just hard to connect it with himself when it didn't really have any marks of himself in it, in which case he'd just need some time to settle in.

The space was truly an empty canvas. Bare basics as far as furnishings went. The beams of the main halls were present on these ceilings here too, though, which was nice. And the rooms were well-lit. A long mirror-like panel on one wall of the bedroom provided the illusion of more-ample space. He paused by it, blankly staring at his reflection.

There was then a prickle of the intrusive fear that he didn't belong, and that, because his brain liked to go from ten to a hundred within seconds of being left to its own devices, he might never belong here, not really.

Leaving his bag by the door, Caspar slipped out of the apartment to check in on Lyall and the kids. And to probably find Ulf and ask about what work might need doing around here.

---

The storm eventually cleared by the end of the week, allowing sunlight to pour into the garden through the clear panels overhead during the day. The room was blessedly warm this particular afternoon, spent rooting around the dirt for root vegetables.

While quietly whistling a merry tune, Lyall waved goodbye to Rhonda and Liam, a couple of the midday regulars in the garden-- he already had a working mental list of all the who's and when's for this spot. Rhonda-Liam preferred to tend their little plot after working early in the morning, and before picking up their children from school in the eve--

Lyall dropped the potato in his hands in momentary panic when it struck him that Lilya and Cy would need grabbing from their first trial day of formal class. Nevermind the dirt on his knees, he thought, as he sprang to his feet. Not a yard away from the potatoes did it further occur to him that Robin had offered to pick them up from their first trial day of formal class, and he came to a slightly wobbly stop.

The "trial day" for the girls was to allow them to simply explore their options, as far as education went. Lily seemed to like the idea of friends, but Lyall was otherwise doubtful this level of structure would appeal to her right out the gate. And Cy made it clear that she was only interested in what literature they had to offer.

Deciding he ought to be well-acquainted with the patch of soil beneath him, Lyall sank back down to his knees as he willed himself to calm the hell down again.

Robin promised to retrieve them, he calmly reminded himself. The kids were fine, nothing to fear.

Turning back around, he figured he should finish up with the potatoes now in order to get home first.

The rhythm of life at the base thus far reminded him a little of the rhythm of life in Bastille. Their busiest hours came consistently, so despite the general lack of windows, time was relatively easy to gauge without a watch. Everywhere you turned, there was something of interest to peek at. Some points of debate or snippets of gossip to catch if you listened carefully enough. And the smells of bread, and spices, herbs, and things frying when you passed a dining hall.

It was without a doubt an entire city underground. He found the change of pace refreshing, exhilerating. It felt like he'd never find his way back to living among a proper society again.

Lyall couldn't deny the allure of fresh bread, so he swung left into a dining hall. It was even warmer than the garden, with the live hearths and folks gathering.

In the midst of chatting up a baker at their vendor, Lyall caught sight of a familiar head of ginger hair among the slowly building crowd.

Though it had only been a week, and they weren't set up terribly far away from each other, it felt more like an eternity since he and James had had a proper chat, friend to friend (or fool to fool, as Hild might teasingly offer).

With a reasonably-sized lunch portion, James filled one small corner of a long table, opposite a group of mingling people. There was plenty of space in between, so Lyall excused himself from his conversation with the baker (who in fact did not have any bread ready, but promised she would in a moment), and slid into the seat beside his friend.

"Well howdy, Mr. Hawke," he greeted brightly, leaning an elbow on the table. "How the fates smile upon us this fine afternoon, that we should both be granted a free moment at the exact same location, which seems like an increasingly rare occurance these days."

James looked up from his plate, looking as if he'd formerly been lost in thought and was only now ripped out of it. He briefly met Lyall's eyes with a small smile before looking down to his plate to make sure he stabbed a potato with his fork.

"Good to see you too, Lyall," James said simply.

Lyall grinned a little wider. "I trust you've been well, in good health, sufficiently sunny spirits since I last saw you all of one day ago?"

"I'm doing alright," he said, eyes still on his plate. "Yourself?"

"Quite well," Lyall agreed with a hum. "Haven't had this much leisure time in..." He honestly didn't want to say, he couldn't remember. Instead, he went on, "I've been entertaining the idea of joining a clinical subdivision, though I haven't decided yet on a primary focus."

"I'm sure wherever you choose to serve, you'll be a great help to many people," James said softly.

With a tamer smile, Lyall inclined his head. "I appreciate your vote of confidence."

James nodded, and used the small lull in conversation to take the opportunity to take a bite of food. He took a moment to chew and swallow before speaking again.

"Are you... eager? To get back to working again?" James asked.

Setting his bag of potatoes on the table, Lyall spun around to lean back on the table's edge.

"I am," he answered, quieting his voice a little now. "Even though I never fully stopped being a doctor in some capacity or other, I suppose."

He had something good. Before this, before the fire.

"I'm sure it will be different," James said. "Than how it was before."

Shaking the previous thought away and getting himself back to the present, Lyall nodded and plastered on another grin. "Definitely. For one, potentially a legitimate office. That would be a huge upgrade."

"As opposed to your office being the great outdoors," James offered.

Lyall shuddered and joked, "You can have 'the great outdoors'. I'm moving the practice indoors once again, and never looking back."

"I can't blame you," James said. "I'm sure it's far easier to keep a sterile workspace indoors."

Lyall nodded again, more emphatically. "Far better, yes."

As much as he himself rejoiced in having an actual indoors available to them again, Lyall had to wonder now (and not for the first time this past week) how it was all treating James. The switch from wide wilderness wandering to big city underground was stark and abrupt, not to mention things like physical recovery, persisting insomnia--

"...How has it been seeing family again?" James moved on. "Ulf seems happy to have you and Hild here."

Putting a pin on his mental James Thread, Lyall humored the man's subconscious need to direct conversation and answered, "Oh, he's positively ecstatic! And I couldn't even begin to describe how surreal everything still feels for me." He waved both hands broadly. "It's a bit like a floating sensation, or like-- like they're a mirage that could drift farther away the harder I pursue, or even just--"

Nah, nope, shut that train of thought down.

Lyall let his hands drop to the table and quietly finished, "You know?"

James hummed softly.

"I understand," he said. "It may take a while before this all feels... normal."

Suppressing a small sigh, Lyall twisted around to sit sideways now and set his chin in his hand as he looked directly at the side of James's face.

"What about you?" Lyall asked, sincere. "How's this first week been for you?"

James poked at his food with his fork, as if somewhere within the food, there might be answers. A few seconds dragged on as James seemed to be deeply mulling over his answer, or perhaps, still searching for one to give.

"I don't really know," James said quietly, slowly rolling a potato wedge across his half-empty plate.

Glancing sideways to study some of the food vendors, Lyall hummed. "Are you sleeping any better? Any worse?"

James's eyes flicked over to Lyall, but just as quickly flicked away when he seemed to make unintentional eye contact.

"Well..." James shrugged weakly, head tilted to the side. "It's about the same, really. I'm just used to it, I think. I've had trouble sleeping for many years, now. So it's not unusual for me."

Lyall surmised. The true step forward here was James's own verbal acknowledgement of it.

To avoid sitting with their problems or depressing thoughts and fears for too long, Lyall shifted focus to, "How's the family?" As if they hadn't just seen each other literally yesterday. "Adjusting well? ...Not well? There's a lot to take in."

James poked at his food idly.

"Well... my parents seem to be relieved to be somewhere stable again," he said. "I think they're adjusting as well as anyone could. They're taking it slow. Getting to know neighbors, and trying not to get overwhelmed in the day to day. So I'd say they're doing alright. Larrel's still swept up in the excitement of the novelty of it all. I don't know if she'll ever stop filling every waking moment with something. She was like that even as a kid, so I think much of it is within her frame, but I don't know how much of reality has sunk in for her yet."

With a small shrug, James scooped up more potatoes and chewed.

"Or--" Lyall stopped short, deciding he ought not to assume anything. With a noncommittal shrug of his own, he opted for, "It could simply take longer to process because of the sheer novelty of everything. If it hasn't already secretly hit her by now, it will."

James merely nodded, as his mouth was still full.

"It'll be interesting," Lyall said, happy to fill the short silence, "seeing how well the kids take to a more sedentary life. For as long as they can remember, we've always moved between safehouses. And it was only every once in awhile that they made brief friendships with other children, so.

"Lily is still generally ecstatic to have their (slightly older) cousins live so close by. Cy's been holding them at arm's length. I suppose she believes, not entirely unfairly, that it won't last." Lyall looked down to contemplate both the specks of dirt still on his hands and whatever life choices he made up until now that may have lead to such a terrible distrust in his older daughter.

James was quiet for a moment.

"Give it time," he said softly.

There was still a small part of Lyall that wanted to bristle at that. Patience was a hard-learned virtue, and he hated to think that there was a problem he couldn't solve with relative immediacy. With worry for Cypress's emotional wellbeing quickly settling a little too heavy for his liking, he decided to ask with a forced air of ease, "Hild? Dear sister of mine, how does she seem?" He waved vaguely. "Since the two of you are..." He waved even more vaguely since gods knew where the stables were. Lyall surely did not. "...In each other's company on the regular."

"From what I've seen it seems like she's doing quite alright, really," James said with a small smile.

Suppressing an audible sigh of relief, Lyall found much solace in that. "Good. Excellent." At least things were going smashingly for some of them, he thought sincerely.

James merely nodded, and returned to eating his food.

Deciding he'd taken up enough of his friend's time for now, Lyall excused himself to find his children and bid James a pleasant afternoon free of further interruptions during mealtime. Smiling small yet warm, James managed to reply simply and sincerely, "Likewise," as Lyall rushed off.

As promised, Robin walked the girls back from school to the apartment. He was waiting with them inside.

"Ah, finally," Robin said when Lyall entered.

Lyall gave him a slightly offended look. "Have I kept you waiting for long?"

His younger daughter groaned, "Yes!"

Robin pointed to her, raising his brows as if to say she had a point.

Lyall just hummed a laught at that. "Well, never have I witnessed such a show of incredible endurance. And for it, I come bearing gifts. Lo!" And he set the potatoes on the table.

Lily, for her part, lit up with delight. "Can I use fire to roast mine like a dragon?"

"I think at your current skill level, you'd be left with ashen potatoes," Robin said with a pat on her shoulder.

"Or just a slightly warmed, still quite raw potato," Lyall added, shaking his head. "Why don't we just bake them in the oven?"

"Can Aunty Mel help?" Cy asked, cupping one of the larger spuds in her hands. "I like the way she cooks them."

"I can cook just as well, you know," Lyall said with exaggerated indignance.

"Debatable," Robin chimed in.

Cy pointed to Robin in a similarly vindicated fashion.

Squaring his shoulders and tsking with great offense, Lyall set the whole bag of potatoes in Cy's arms. "I see. You may take charge of the meal since my cooking skills are so subpar. You may start by washing them."

Determined, Cy straightened as she hugged the bag close to her chest. "I will!" She marched to the door to the kitchen, hesitated, then turned back. She added, undeterred, "You have to cut them, though. I...don't like knives."

Lyall couldn't help his amused grin and answered, "Sure thing, pine cone. Lily, help your sister with washing please."

Without hesitation, Lilya dashed into the next room with threats of roasting potatoes when no one was looking. Cy followed close after.

"Thanks for picking them up," Lyall said, turning to Robin now.

"Of course," Robin said. "I don't mind helping out. I know this is still all very new."

Lyall waved a hand toward the chairs at the dining table between them. "Do you have time to visit a bit? Perhaps share a meal before duty beckons once more?"

Robin grinned and gave him a nod, joining him at the table.

So they talked a little while. About what they've observed in their friends as everyone settled in, how the girls more or less took to school as well (or as not-so-well) as Lyall anticipated.

Cy and Lilya brought the potatoes to the table and set about deciding which vegetables to add to complete the meal. Robin picked up a knife and helped chop up the foods as their conversation shifted focus toward his work. Which sounded most like clinic work, from what Lyall could gather. But then Robin would make mention of or offhand comments about something or other that seemed entirely unrelated, so Lyall really couldn't be too sure, to be frank.

Which eventually led to them discussing potential roles for Lyall to fill. They both agreed the clinic would be a good place to at least start. Familiar, fairly lowkey. Robin reminded Lyall to try to keep his options open too, though, once they were more settled. Familiar was nice, and Lyall had only ever been a physician thus far. As Robin acknowledged, however, they were both similar in that they liked variety in their day-to-day, and it couldn't hurt to find some new hobbies if nothing else.

"Maybe you could pick up knitting like Raj," Robin suggested. "I hear it's calming."

"Perhaps I'll consider it," Lyall said, a tad dismissively as he swept the cut carrots onto a baking sheet with the potatoes.

"Or maybe you could try cooking more," Robin went on. "Gods know you could use the practice."

Lyall shot him a quick, playful glare. "I'm not that bad. Decent at worst."

"Let's just say there's room for improvement," Robin said with a generous gesture of his hands. "I'm just offering suggestions."

"Yes, well, thank you for your suggestions," Lyall said, and added in a mumble, "unwarranted criticisms notwithstanding."

Robin reached over and gave Lyall a light pat on his back.

"Just give it time," Robin said. "You'll find your place soon enough."

Lyall jokingly rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, waiting and all that wise twaddle."

"Hey, I worked really hard coming up with that line," Robin said.

"You mean you stole that line," Lyall countered.

"Borrowed it," Robin corrected. "No one person has a claim on words."

"Uncle Bo uses that word a lot," Lilya butted in.

"Astute observation, Lilya," Robin said a bit dryly.

"Aha!" Lyall triumphantly gestured at Robin with a half potato in hand. "You've fooled no one."

"So what if I took the words out of his mouth?" Robin said. "He's still right. You've always been tightly wound, Lyall. I know waiting for you is torture."

"Which is exactly why I plan on applying for as many clinical roles as I humanly can first thing tomorrow." Lyall set about to roughly chopping the rest of the half potato.

"Of course you would," Robin said. "And who's going to take your daughters to school while you're doing all these job interviews and applications?"

On cue, both his daughters gave him very pointed looks.

"Second thing tomorrow," Lyall quickly amended.

"Right," Robin nodded. "Well. Let me know how that goes."

Lyall nodded. "First thing when I next see you."

Robin merely hummed. From the way Robin quirked one brow and slightly pursed his lips, Lyall could tell that there was something he wasnt saying. And Lyall was quite content to let it drop.

From there, though, Robin did take over their cooking efforts. He directed Cy and Lilya to the kitchen with him and offered some instruction on things like which herbs would go well with the food and how they shouldn't use too much oil. Seeing this moment to himself as an opportunity, Lyall rummaged through his still half-packed things for some blank paper, and set about to jotting down all of his work qualifications. And neglecting to mention his lack of recent licensing within the past decade.