Young Writers Society

James couldn't remember when his father faded and was replaced by the cold table against his face. His mouth felt dry, and his skin sticky with long-since-dried sweat, now turned cold with the rest of the room. The air was thick and dense, heavy against his bare skin. The pain from prolonged and reaggravated wounds was gone, and for the first time since his capture, he almost felt... normal. As normal as he could, given the circumstances. He still hadn't eaten since he'd been brought to the cell, and drinks of water were sparse - only just enough to keep him from death, but not enough for him to ever feel fully quenched.

He couldn't comprehend if he had slept, or if any time had passed since Aaron, then Carter...

Fuzzy, distorted memories filtered through the thick clouds in his mind. It finally hit him that this feeling was familiar, and he didn't have to question the source. He'd been drugged. Again.

But why?

Clumsily, he stumbled through the mess of memories in his head. Flashes of blurry faces. Fractions of words. Only feelings were found to be the most concrete, and he didn't know what to gather from an overall sense of dread and heartache. For all he knew, that was leftover from the foggy vision he could only vaguely remember of his father. Though he still didn't quite feel like he was grounded, he had enough wits about him to know that him seeing a dead man was a hallucination, as real as it might've felt.

He felt like he had only just begun to get his bearings when the cursed stone door scraped on the floor, announcing Aaron's timely arrival. James had grown to associate the sound with incoming pain. Already, James could feel his body preparing itself; muscles tensing and then forcefully relaxing as he took in deep, measured breaths.

He watched as Aaron started for the table with his tools, then paused when his eyes fell on James.

As Aaron stared, James merely stared back.

Scurrying over to the surface where he was laid out, Aaron examined him intently, mumbling quiet observations as he prodded at everything. Despite being physically recovered, James didn't have the energy to bother interrupting Aaron's panicked poking and muttering.

He let out a long sigh.

As he turned away, Aaron threw off his coat and grabbed a candle from the table. Nudging his chair over with his foot, he dropped down. He set the candle by James's head and adjusted the tarnished reflector and magnifying glass around the flame, focusing the light on each of James's eyes. James's eyes twitched lazily in the light, unfocused.

"You didn't happen to catch who came, did you?" Aaron muttered.

James realized that he hadn't even considered how he'd been healed. The how and the when were muddled with the Lumshade messing with his memory.

It didn't matter for him to tell Aaron, but he started to wonder himself who it might've been, and if it were of any significance.

Aaron then wildly waved a dismissive hand, and said as if in answer, "No, nevermind, it won't make any difference who, I just--" He poked at his glasses. "It--"

"You're just going to ruin it anyway," James said slowly. His voice was rough and low, and louder than anticipated.

Turning the magnified light away from James's eyes, Aaron sat back heavily. "I don't know, I might not. Not until I've spoken with..." He rubbed a hand at his eyes, displacing his glasses, and groaned softly. "I'd rather not-- I may need to re-review the terms of the contract, but." He let his hands drop to his lap, and bounced a leg restlessly as he glanced off. "But he won't hear of it..."

"Carter..." James voiced, the name slipping out of his thoughts as he saw Carter's shadow stepping into the room. He blinked hard, and the door returned to normal.

The Lumshade was still working against him, but it felt more like a memory than a hallucination.

"Yes, Carter," Aaron said bitterly, "it always has something to do with that-- that egomaniac." He jumped up and began pacing.

He was here, James thought, until he heard the words spoken faintly out loud, like an echo.

Aaron paused at that, glanced James over, then sighed irritably as he resumed his frantic circling.

"Maybe, maybe not," Aaron said. "The smug bastard can't help but gloat, I'm sure, but then I can't be actually, because you're simply not-- because he just decides he can--" He sighed again.

"This must be... terribly difficult for you," James offered flatly, as a poor attempt at empathy. Were he less drugged, he may have been able to deliver it with more grace.

"I can imagine how difficult it is. To work with him. Imagine he's gotten worse over th' years."

"I can handle this!" Aaron snapped, voice loud enough to echo off the stone walls, but his glare was directed at the door. "I can take the condescension, the tacit lording of power, the drudgery, the endless hours spent in disgusting conditions." He whirled around to face James and jabbed a finger in the direction of the door. "I can manage everything just fine, this will work, but not if he breaches the contract! Not even in small ways, because it--"

Stepping closer again, Aaron demonstratively pinched his fingers together, leaving only a tiny space between. "It always starts out small. Then it always-- always inflates ego--" He broadly gestured to the floor with both arms. "--and then he'll start to think he can take even more ground, little by little, until--"

Clenching his hands tightly, Aaron swung his fists in the air and paced again.

James stared at Aaron as he vented, unleashing pent up frustrations that had been building up for who knew how long.

James remembered that one of the first dark secrets he learned as the king brought him under his wing was that the king kept many healing mages as secret servants. They were disguised as maids, nurses, soldiers, even, and had all escaped the fate of other mages because they'd accepted the king's "generous offer" to use their powers "for good." To "strengthen the kingdom." To "further its values." Whatever meaningless flowery language he'd used, the truth of the reality was this: the mages were slaves, and had very little say in the matter.

Once they agreed to loyal servitude their fates were sealed. It was serve, or surrender your life. Because Blackfield believed no one's magic should exist unless it could be used for his interests.

Like living longer.

Most mages eventually met their fate by offering their healing magic to sustain the king's life and health. It was the only reason Blackfield had lived so long, but he left so many drained mages in his wake, all of which eventually passed from the strain.

Aaron must've taken the offer for this job to avoid that fate. And clearly, his conscious was undisturbed by it enough to make peace with it as an alternative.

Either way, it was the coward's way out.

"Until he kills you?" James said. "Over this?"

With a dark grin-- more like a baring of teeth-- Aaron slowly shook his head. "Oh, no. No, I'm already killing myself over this job. But if he thinks he can start taking over my work, what else will he start reaching for? He won't stop, he's too high on power, and there's nothing keeping him from simply taking whatever from whomever when he's bored. And then-- In the end, what will I be killing myself for?"

"Has he done this before?" James asked.

But why was he trying to ask helpful questions? Why was he trying to calm him?

And what did Aaron mean that he was 'killing himself' over this? Were there other strings attached to this job that he didn't know about?

"How are you killing yourself?" James asked instead, before Aaron could answer his first question.

Aaron froze, as though struck, and his eyes turned searching.

"It doesn't matter," he eventually said after a long beat.

James blinked.

"It's not like I'm going to live for much longer," James said.

What was there to lose from telling a dead man his secrets? Him venting to James, though obnoxious and unbefitting of their circumstance, would hold no consequences for him. James was going to take Aaron's secrets to his grave.

And suddenly there was a flash of clarity.

Carter, sitting in front of him, eyes level with his.

"I'd like to make you an example."

The following words echoed and blended together.

"Public... excecution... criminals... your family... deserve to know the truth."

And the overwhelming dread and heartache that once confused him upon waking flooded back to him with full force. He was so overwhelmed that he barely registered that Aaron had started talking again.

"You're right," he said in a murmur, distant as he thought, "but for as long as you are alive..."

Setting his hands on his hips, Aaron tilted his head as he studied James again. Then glanced at the door.

James couldn't muster up a witty quip or a well thought out reply. It felt like his heart was being wrung out, over and over.

His family.

Carter was going to tell his family.

James didn't care about Aaron anymore. He never did. Didn't think he ever would. He was done with Aaron's self-centered ranting to a man whose death was already appointed for him. He wasn't interested in Aaron's reasons for taking a job that was killing him, while he was clearly fascinated with the work enough to choose it in the first place.

He could've said no. He could've taken the option to at least die with integrity, instead of collecting blood on his hands.

"You know what," James growled out. "I'm glad you have to deal with Carter. Maybe it's fate's still insufficient retribution for the path you've chosen for yourself."

With a dark glint in his eyes, Aaron strode back and gripped James's jaw.

"You don't think it noble," Aaron bit out. "That's fine. I don't have to prove anything to a dead man--"

"No," James cut in sharply, staring up at Aaron with daggers in his eyes. "But I am very curious to know what your wife thinks. Does she know you dissect people for fun, or are you too ashamed to tell her the truth?"

"I simply don't worry her with the details of my work." Aaron bent down and ground out, "I'll deal with Carter once I'm done with you."

"So it's a secret, then," James continued, louder, more persistent as he let his words become all the more cutting. "She'd leave you, wouldn't she? She'd leave you if she knew?"

James let out a bitter laugh.

"I can tell you're new to this," he said with a gritted smile. "A torturer never shares personal information. That just gives us ammunition to use against you. You should've taken the offer to die with dignity. You're not even worthy to be called a mage--"

Eyes burning, Aaron dug in his fingers. Invisible knifes stabbed through every part of James as his strength was ripped out of him, spotting his vision white. Involuntarily, he convulsed, and his whole frame arched backward against the bonds keeping him down. Bile burned in his throat and worked its way into his mouth.

When Aaron finally tore his hand away, he dropped into his seat again. He held himself straighter, but his face was still pallid and his chest heaved. James collapsed limply onto the table, and bile trickled out of the side of his mouth.

"Neither of us has very long," Aaron said lowly, voice hoarse. "I'm not noble, and perhaps I've impulsively shown you my hand. But you're stupid, wasting rounds by shooting blindly at me. And that's how I'll outlive you at the very least. By playing my cards right, and making my shots count."

James was still seeing spots scatter his vision. He could feel his whole body screaming, aching, begging for it to stop.

He'd grown used to it.

He didn't care. The only thing motivating him now was spite. It was all he had left.

Letting out a deep groan, James painfully turned his head again to find the spotted silhouette of Aaron.

"Must've... hit the nail on the head," he grit out. "To warrant... the drain."

He pushed out a weak, almost manic laugh.

"Didn't know we were... competing," James said with a faint smile. "I would've tried harder to... light your fuse."

Aaron went quiet for a moment. "Though, it seems..." he murmured, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and with his fingers slotted together. He tilted his head and huffed a low laugh.

"Ah. You're playing your cards in the exact way you intend. I see that now." Aaron mustered an unfeeling grin. "Not to worry. Just a few more days."

Any hint of a smile faded quickly as James lost all energy to maintain it. Though he wanted to keep up the mask, Aaron's words brought James's thoughts back to his family, and frankly, he could barely bear the thought.

He resented his throat for tightening. He curled his mouth into a small frown as he stared at Aaron, who was finally coming into focus.

"You know," he said, prepared for a retort, but his words didn't seem to follow. "I never expected to make it this far, anyway."

His throat grew tighter, but he swallowed it down.

"This is enough for me."

Aaron stared at him. Blankly, like he didn't hear him quite right. The usual curious light sparked in his eyes, replacing the seething rage from just moments ago.

"I agree," he said, nearly inaudible. He rose to his feet and pulled on his coat. "This is enough. I have a breached contract to address now."

James wasn't sure if Aaron decided to finally have a conscience, or if he was so at a loss for a response that he decided it best to leave. Regardless, Aaron turned on his heel and slipped out the door with hardly a sound.

Finally left alone, James found his mind drift right back to the imminent fate set in front of him.

His family was going to watch him die... weren't they?

Tucked away in the trees between the walls of Hope and King's Peak, they set up in another bunker not too unlike the first. They unpacked the wagon by torchlight, and opted to rest at least a few hours, then leave for King's Peak before dawn broke.

The underbrush was dense, and sufficiently hid any tracks that may have led to the bunker. In the dark, Caspar picked through as quietly as he could and ducked under low-hanging boughs. Through a gap between the tall evergreens, there was a stretch of sky speckled with stars. It reached down and stopped abruptly at the hard, unforgiving edge of the capital's walls. The moonlight lit the ground just enough where the treeline broke in the distance where the earth dipped down at the base.

Seeming to stand atop a peak of its own, the city practically loomed over the woods from where he stood.

The plan was to have Lyall, Robin, and the kids stay at the bunker while the rest of them ventured inside the stone walls. There, Lyall and Robin would be ready to receive them once they found James. If anything went wrong (which Caspar desperately hoped it didn't) and they didn't make it back within the next two days-- three, max-- Lyall and Robin would have to follow them in.

Staring at the wall now, Caspar wasn't sure where they got these numbers and if the timeline was even feasible.

They were set back eight days behind Carter. And James was a high profile criminal, with an absurdly high bounty.

What if they were too late?

Clenching his hands, then stretching out his fingers to release the tension, Caspar bit his lip. Heel bouncing, and with his axe weighing at his side, the need to protect screamed at him, urging him forward. He was truly tempted to go in now, he could sleep when he was dead. Right now, James needed help.

There was a crack of a stick underfoot, just beside him. Caspar startled, then quickly calmed again at the familiar face now beside him.

Mel had joined him. She looked up at him, then out at the city, her scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, but bunched up to her chin. She wore a simple, cream cap knitted by her brother, with flaps covering her ears.

"The others are settling down in the bunker," she said softly. "It's warmer down there, now that they've got a fire going in the furnace."

She glanced back at him, again, her eyes gentle, but searching.

"Is this your first time in the Moonlight Kingdom?"

Glancing back at the high walls, Caspar nodded again. "Uh, yeah. It's... I haven't been this far south before."

"We don't come this way often," Mel said. "Especially not King's Peak. We only come to the kingdom for rescue missions."

She paused, watching Caspar as she spoke.

"Life's difficult for mages wherever we go," she said. "But it's especially dangerous to be discovered in the Moonlight Kingdom. The survival rate after capture is..."

Caspar met her eyes now, setting his jaw.

That outlook was grim, if at all existent.

"But we have something they don't," Mel said. "We have Raj. With him, we'll be able to bypass walls that would normally keep us out. Our problem isn't that we don't have skills to make a rescue work. It's that we can't know for sure where James is being held. Normally, with mages, we know the locations they're kept. We have informants, but they don't mine for information about people like... James."

She took in a slow, deep breath, and turned her gaze to the city. Caspar followed her eyes back out through the trees.

"We have a contact we'll touch base with when we arrive," Mel said. "But from there... we'll have to manage the manhunt on our own."

Eyes flicking to the ground, Mel hesitated.

"Bo... suspects Carter may be keeping James within the palace walls - which is essentially a smaller city within the city, where the king's palace is, along with the Mage Guild headquarters and the bunkers for his elite soldiers, the palace guard."

Yet more barriers between them and James. Caspar couldn't help but huff a wry laugh.

"I thought as much too," he mumbled, glancing down as he idly scuffed his heel in the dirt.

"It'll be... harder to get in. Or rather, harder to navigate once we're past the walls," Mel said quietly.

Of course, he thought bitterly. He cast a quick, hardened look back up at the walls of King's Peak, then sighed wearily, shoulders sagging a little.

"We, um." He scratched behind his ear, then nodded his head in the direction of the bunker. "We can head back now."

Mel tilted her head, observing him for a moment before she nodded. Silently, she reached out and slipped her hand into his, gently tugging him to follow. With a second's delay and pressure pushing outward from inside his chest, Caspar carefully closed his hand around hers and trailed close behind.

He didn't get a lot of sleep.

It was still dark out when they rose again. Though he didn't want to wake him, Caspar at least wanted to bid Lyall farewell until their return. Quietly, trying not to disturb the girls curled up at either side of him, Lyall managed to slip out of bed and joined him by the bunker entrance.

They didn't say much, and tightly held each other for probably a few moments longer than needed. But none of this was sure.

When Lyall firmly told him to come back in one piece, voice turning thick, Caspar was struck by another moment of self-awareness. He couldn't recall another time that he was surrounded by so many good people whom he considered close friends. Who wanted to bear with him all of life's hardships.

He couldn't recall a time where he had this much to lose.

Lyall wished them all luck. Robin added that luck didn't actually exist, to which Lyall just waved and muttered dismissively.

The sun broke through the trees, lighting the grey stones surrounding King's Peak with a gentle orange as the sky was brushed a crisp light blue.

Bo silently lead the way, then eventually fell back behind Raj once the city walls had blocked out most of the sky ahead of them. They stopped a little ways off from the treeline.

Within the shelter of the pines, the ground slowly opened up, and Raj stepped down below the surface with a murmured, "Watch your step." Hild's curly hair down in front of him was the last Caspar saw before the earth closed up behind him, plunging them into complete darkness.

The black in front of his eyes began to pulsate. The air around them was still, and tasted stagnant. He managed to keep himself oriented with his hand brushing the icy wall and the sounds of everyone's quiet footsteps ahead of him.

Almost there, he told himself, almost out.

The silence seemed to draw on endlessly. Non-existent shadows danced and swirled. There was a twinge in his chest and loud thumping in his ears. Water pressed inward on his lungs, his breaths grew short.

Almost there, almost out.

Instead of breaking through to the surface, the earth in front of them finally gave way to light -- but it was firelight. The tunnel Raj had created opened into another tunnel. It was like a shaft, fortified by wooden beams and with torches lining the wall. Raj stepped in and backed away for everyone to enter, and once they were out of his burrow, the roughly carved earth gave way, sealing up as Raj waved his motioned his arms downward.

Bo and Raj exchanged nods, and Bo started down the hall, taking the lead once more.

Shoulders tense as he lingered in the back, Caspar kept from leaning on one of the wooden beams as he let out a heavy breath. Brows drawn slightly, Hild stiffly patted a hand to his arm. He mustered a slight smile and waved a dismissive hand, so she stepped away.

Mel glanced over at Caspar, walking alongside him as the underground hall provided more space than Raj's runnel. Though she didn't say anything, she did seem to be closely observing him. Caspar tried holding himself straighter from there on out.

The torchlight helped. On the way, Bo would reignite a few dead ones with a spark of his fingers and a small, "Boop."

Eventually, the flat walkway turned into a set of winding wooden stairs. When Caspar lost track of just how many flights they climbed, it struck him that they had been deeper in the earth than he previously thought.

When Bo came to a stop, it was at the near-end of the steps, and above them was a wooden trapdoor. It looked thick, and lined with cobwebs, like, perhaps, this tunnel hadn't been used in a long time.

With a heave, Bo pushed up on it, and after moment of seeming stuck, it gave way and Bo gently guided it open so it didn't slam.

Caspar caught only a glimpse of what was through the door before Bo hoisted himself up, blocking the view. But it looked like... a room inside a house?

After everyone else had climbed out, and he lent Hild a hand, Caspar pulled himself up and found himself on a living room floor, inches from a worn, patterned rug that had been rolled back. The wall ahead of him was lined with shelves, most of which were populated by books, but some with figurines and miscellaneous decor. Caspar eased the door shut behind himself, and Bo rolled out the rug back over it.

The rest of the room looked to be a small study. In one corner, there was a desk, with a painting overhead of a cabin by a lake. By the wall of shelves, there was a small cart with a pitcher of water and cups sitting idly by. Notably, the room had no windows, but the door to the study was propped open... by a cat.

Curled up, but now alert, the cat flicked its tail and watched the group intently.

"Haven't been here in a while," Raj muttered, eyes jumping around the room. "They got more books."

"And a cat," Mel said, approaching said feline with an extended hand. "Hey there, little guy."

Bo eyed the cat warily.

"Can you uh, keep it away from me?" Bo asked, then looked to Caspar. "I'm allergic," he said quickly by way of explanation. Caspar offered an empathetic shoulder pat.

Mel picked the cat up, and it let out a "mrow." Cradling it like a baby, she bounced it in her arms, staying in the doorway.

"Sure," she said softly.

"I'll see if they're home," Raj said, pushing past Mel into the hall. Mel watched after him, her guard clearly still up despite being the bearer of the cat.

Raj disappeared out of view for a moment, and then they heard two voices intermingling down the hall.

"Raj!" the name sounded in unison, with one voice feminine and one masculine.

Recognition flashed on both Mel's and Bo's faces, and Mel hurried down the hall after her brother. Bo looked to Hild and Caspar with a small smile.

"Come along," he said with a nod of his head as he led the way out of the study.

Hild followed close at Bo's heels. Caspar gave the painting above the desk one more glance as he trailed behind.

More chatter could be heard down the hall as Mel's voice was added to the conversations overlapping.

When Caspar turned the corner, he entered into a sitting room that was quickly filling up with people.

There were two new faces - both older, looking to be in their 50's at least.

One was a short, petite woman in a floor-length dress. She had long, braided grey hair that reached to her waist and deep smile and laugh lines that creased her light brown skin.

The other was a man only an inch or two taller with short, striking white hair that contrasted against his dark brown complexion. He had a small beard and bright eyes that quickly locked with Caspar's.

With a warm smile, the man waved him over.

"I see you brought new friends!" the man said, likely to Mel or Raj. He reached out to pull Caspar into a hug. With a small smile of his own, Caspar wrapped a loose arm around the man and patted his back before pulling away again.

"I'm Caspar Calderson," he said quietly as he stepped back. "I presume this lovely home is yours?"

"That it is," the man said, still smiling. "The name's Kaleb," he said with a gesture to himself, and then he pointed to the woman just a few feet away, who was talking with Raj and Mel. "And this is my beautiful wife Laura, whom I love--"

"Kaleb," Laura interrupted with an affectionate but meaningful look, as of Kaleb did this all of the time.

"And you shall discover all of that for yourself," Kaleb said with a wave of his hand. He turned his attention to Hild. "And what's your name, young lady?"

Neatly folding her hands in front, Hild inclined her head with a polite smile. "Hild Ashlund. A pleasure to meet you, Kaleb, Laura."

"It's our pleasure to host," Kaleb said with a nod of his head towards Bo.

Bo was keeping his distance, standing a few feet back from everyone. Kaleb looked confused for a moment before his eyes flicked to the cat in Mel's arms.

"Oh!" he said. "Mel, put Silver down."

Mel hesitated, but lowered the grey cat to the ground. Laura pulled out a little bell from her pocket and jingled it, catching Silver's attention. Tossing the bell down the hall, the cat ran after it, tackling the bell as it slid back into the study, where it started to play with the bell on its own.

When the cat was gone, Bo came in and gave Kaleb and Laura a hug - one in each arm. He squeezed them tight before pulling away.

"It's good to see you both again," he said. "It's been too long."

"That it has," Laura said, giving Bo an affectionate pat on the arm. "Have you all eaten? Are you hungry?"

"Normally, we'd love to accept the invitation--" Bo started.

"Ah," Laura sighed. "What am I thinking? You've come all this way. It must be urgent."

She gestured to the long couch lining the wall, welcoming everyone to sit. Across from the couch were two loveseats as well, comfortably positioned with views out the front windows - though they were currently curtained.

Mel and Raj squeezed onto 2/3 of the couch while Bo sat on the arm. Kaleb pulled a chair out of another room and sat down by Laura, who'd taken a loveseat. Hild perched in the remaining space on the couch with Mel and Raj. Caspar opted to stand close by.

Bo and Mel took the lead and quickly caught Kaleb and Laura up to speed on the important events leading up to their arrival - or so it seemed. Though they were in the privacy of Kaleb and Laura's home, it seemed that they were still using guarded - or perhaps, coded - language. That was, until they had to tell them who it was they were looking for.

Bo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Tiberius Hemming," Bo said. "Or that's how he'd be known here."

Though Kaleb and Laura had held generally relaxed, friendly dispositions since they'd all met, the mention of James's first alias made their eyes flick to one another.

"He's..." Laura started.

"No," Bo finished, before she could finish her thought. "But we do consider him family now."

Laura's brows drew together in focused concern, and Kaleb remained silent, leaned back in his chair.

"We've... never been able to dig up too much on him," Laura said carefully. "But we do know that Commander Haddon, the king's right hand, has been commissioning bounty hunters after him for some time. Enough for it to confirm the rumors that it's personal."

Laura pursed her lips together into a frown, looking down into her lap. Taking in a deep breath, she looked back up at them with a sober, level gaze.

"Those that cross the king or the Haddons personally, they tend to... disappear," she said quietly. "For weeks. Sometimes months. When their capture is finally made public, it's... during their execution."

Sitting straighter with her shoulders squared, Hild drew in a silent breath and wrung her hands. Caspar turned his eyes down to the floor and bit on his lip to likewise keep quiet.

"We've heard whispers of a dungeon of sorts," Kaleb said lowly, finally speaking up. "Kept deep beneath the castle. Where the king keeps his darkest secrets, and most valued prisoners. But we don't have any confirmation it actually exists. None of our people have made it that far."

"How many have tried?" Caspar asked quietly, tearing his gaze away from the floor again.

"Sixteen," Laura replied softly. "They never came back."

Caspar nodded his acknowledgement. Not great odds, then, though that was to be expected.

"Has anyone tried going in from below?" Raj spoke up.

"One party," Laura answered, looking to the floor. "But..."

"We wish we could be of more help," said Kaleb. "But there's not much we can do for your friend. No matter what, you'll be going in blind once you get past the palace walls."

"I'm already half used to that," Bo said.

Mel hit Bo in the arm. Hard. Bo let out a quiet 'ow' and rubbed the spot she'd hit. Caspar snorted, despite himself.

"You've given us a starting point," Mel said. "That's more than we had before. For that, we thank you."

"We can also offer you food," Laura added. "The best window to get past the walls won't be until nightfall, so you have time."

Bo glanced at Caspar, briefly meeting his eyes. Caspar just looked back down at the floor, resigned to waiting a little longer. They had one shot at this, and they needed to do it right.

His stomach twisted and knotted at the thought of James dying a criminal's death. He wondered how much longer they had to find him at this point.

Kaleb and Laura were incredibly generous hosts. At the table for lunch, Bo, Mel, and Raj were able to quietly catch up more a little bit. Hild spoke up during this time, engaging with light, mostly surface-level questions. Caspar was present enough to quietly respond with a hum or a usually short answer.

The meal they made was lovely. Though Caspar could hardly eat at the moment and barely tasted the food, it was better than running on empty. He managed to finish his portion before anyone else was even halfway done.

With everyone crowded into the entry way of their home, Kaleb and Laura wished them good luck and warmly bid them farewell. They all extended many sincere thanks, then filed out of the house with Bo in front. Stepping out from under the eaves of the house, Caspar barely heard the door close behind him as he took in the scene around them.

Not even a foot away from the doorstep, and they were already brushing shoulders with harried strangers. The buildings on either side of the broad cobblestone street ranged from 2 to 4 windows high, and their slate-colored rooves slightly pitched like stone hills. Mostly on ground-level, many windows with shop signs hanging over them were filled with patrons and products.

Though the shop signs added some splashes of color, the city was mostly grey and the geometric architecture severe. It was a place built to withstand the harsh winters of the south, and certainly looked the part.

As they turned a corner at the end of the block, the view opened up to the rest of the city beyond their street. King's Peak as a whole seemed to slope upward, and all the buildings pointed toward the stern figure of the palace standing tall at the top.

Looking down again, Caspar narrowly avoided bumping into Hild in front of him when she slowed. She was mid-sentence, though he could barely make out what she was saying over the bustle of the street, when he yanked her out of the way of a fast-moving vendor. The man pushing the cart apologized hastily yet halfheartedly as he disappeared around the corner.

"As I was saying," Hild said, shooting a slightly miffed in the general direction of the vendor, "I don't imagine you've passed through many cities of this size before now, aside from Ruddlan."

Looking back up and around the busy street, Caspar nodded. "This, ah, manages to make Ruddlan feel small in comparison."

"It's a lot of walking," Mel said over her shoulder just ahead of them. "So prepare yourself."

Hild cast him a pointed look and said, "Walking likely won't be the problem."

With a slight frown, Caspar just glanced off to the side.

As they trekked up the city, the palace slowly loomed larger over them. It would have been a fairly straight shot with the grid-like layout, if a bit slow with all the foot traffic, but Bo took them down a rather convoluted path. They turned many corners and weaved around blocks. Caspar kept losing track of where north was.

It was likely to keep a low profile, he realized. The capital was large; guards were probably posted throughout to keep track of the people and the goings-on.

Eventually, Caspar adjusted to the noise levels in the streets and was able to start picking out some details from individual conversations as they passed.

A baker stepped out of her shop with a merchant, extending her congratulations to him about his growing family. The merchant just laughed tiredly.

A pair of older gentlemen playing chess on the side of the road discussed the closing down of a tea shop just one street down. One expressed his condolences, and the other was happier for it.

There was a handful of scholars clustered at one street corner, throwing around big words that Caspar couldn't quite make full sense of.

The subject matter of every passing conversation ranged from the weather to health to work to home life. The only bit of information that ever even came close to relevant concerned the arrest of a man for disturbing the peace, but of course that just-- That wasn't it, it had nothing to do with what they were here for.

He couldn't find any indication of an execution or even a trial anywhere, nothing. He felt like he was grasping at straws now.

Looking skyward with a small sigh, Caspar noted that the noon sun didn't peak as high as it did in Desert Sands during the summer.

Last second, he stopped short of a door swinging open to his left. A dark-haired kid with a pair of binoculars hanging from her shoulder swung out, holding the door open. With her back turned to him, she didn't seem to notice that she nearly hit somebody. A woman with her hair twisted into long, loose dreadlocks, and her arms encumbered with bags full of food, hurried out after the kid.

With her attention turned back to the shop as she called her thanks to someone inside, the woman stepped around who must have been her daughter. Caspar side-stepped to avoid collision, but the woman was in such a rush that they bumped shoulders, and she lost her footing and her grasp on one of the bags.

Without thinking, Caspar grabbed the woman by her shoulders to keep her steady, then quickly withdrew once the risk of tripping passed.

With a muttered curse, the woman quickly passed the bag still in her hands off to her daughter before the kid could even register what was happening, then dropped to the ground to pick up the spilled contents of the other bag. Caspar knelt down too and plucked the apples from the road before they could roll away.

"Of course," the woman said under breath, "yes, on the exact day that I finally convince him to mingle, just a little bit." Then she swore again.

"Mom," the kid said flatly.

"Right, sorry," the woman said, not sounding very sorry actually. "Excuse the language, but this is just--" She took one of the apples from Caspar's hands and quickly looked it over. "Is it bruised?" She tossed it into the bag. "Nevermind, I'm just cooking them later anyway."

Eyes flicking toward Caspar, the kid just repeated, tone pointed, "Mom."

The woman paused. "What?"

With brows slightly raised and a close-lipped smile, Caspar quietly offered back the re-filled bag. The woman then hid a grimace behind her hand for a moment before accepting.

"Sorry," she said hastily, "I'm sorry. Busy day. I knew we should've headed out sooner to beat the afternoon crowd--"

"But then there's the morning crowd," the kid said plainly as they stood again.

Her mother didn't grace her input more than a glance and went on, "Sorry. Uh, thank you, sorry."

"S'fine," Caspar answered simply.

He glanced sideways; everyone else had taken notice and stopped a short distance away. The kid followed his gaze. With her brows raised, she silently stared at the group.

Caspar was about to politely bid the woman and her daughter farewell, but--

"I needed to get this meal started much sooner," the woman went on, "but of course, once the work day gets going, and the streets start to fill up-- It feels like, if you're not up by dawn, then you've missed your chance at a peaceful shopping spree, and then every hour after is rush hour--"

"You guys from around here?" the kid asked, looking back up at Caspar.

"Ah. Well, uh, we--" he began.

"You're all together?" the woman then asked, eyes flicking sideways as well. "Dragons-- I'm sorry, we won't keep you any longer, especially not with small talk or rambling about the traffic."

"It's alright," Bo said, leaning in with a small smile. "Don't worry about it."

The kid stared up at Bo with a hint of amazement. "Is that from a griffin?"

The woman swiftly tapped a foot to the back of the kid's leg with a glare. "Shan, don't-- Come on," she muttered, reprimanding.

The kid just shrugged, looking sheepish.

Bo blinked, looked to the mother, then back to the child, his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"A bear, actually," Bo said.

He paused, then pointed at the pair of binoculars hanging around her neck.

"What's it like using those with two eyes?" he asked.

The mother withered a little. The kid, Shan, snorted.

"Everything's two times closer," Shan said.

"You know, fun fact about us one-eyed folk," Bo said. "We can't really tell how far things are all too well. Gives us a tendency to be a bit clumsy." He then glanced over to the mother. "And more forgiving for when other people are a little clumsy too."

With an embarrassed laugh, the woman shifted the bag to one arm and held out her free hand toward Bo. "Well, now I'm mostly just sorry about my nosy daughter. Apologies, mister..."

"Andrei," Bo said with a warm smile, taking her hand with a firm shake. "And don't worry about it. I get it all the time. Your name?"

"Ava," she answered. Then stuck out her hand to Caspar. "And you, the original victim of our collective gracelessness...?"

Mustering a small smile as well, Caspar lightly shook her hand. "Henry," he said. "S'fine, really."

Ava nodded to each of them. "Well, thank you kindly for your patience, Andrei. Henry. Uh, and friends. We'll get going now. Dinner prep and whatnot, and you all probably have places to be, too."

She tapped her toe to Shan's. The kid started down the road per her prompting, but not without a faint sigh and polite farewell of her own. As they went, Ava recommended an inn a few streets down in case they were in fact from out of town as Shan had asked-- which, well, they were, but they didn't plan on staying.

Then the two disappeared from view as they stepped out into the crowded street.

Hild had stood a few paces away throughout the exchange, twisting her finger in her palm as she waited. As soon as they concluded, and Ava and Shan had gone their own way, she quickly fell back into step beside Bo as he took the lead once more.

Trailing behind in the back again, Caspar turned his eyes upward toward the heart of the city. He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. The small wooden hawk he'd carved fell into his fingers, and he absently rubbed a thumb over its wing as he studied the hard edges of the palace.

With the sun already starting to dip down behind the city wall, the buildings turned golden, then into blue shadows on a lilac sky. The evening crowds thinned as Bo brought them away from the main roads to slip down more alleyways. Shop windows filtered out as buildings turned into homes.

Hild, Bo, and Mel at times picked up light, idle conversation as they traveled. Raj would interject every once in awhile, and Caspar simply listened to their voices. As the city gradually calmed with the evening, though, they let silence settle around them.

Caspar looked up and around them frequently, studying the buildings and passing faces, then eventually just kept his gaze trained on his friends in front of him.

Though it was quieter in this part of the city, his head started to pound. Every little noise around him was amplified. Pressure pushed inward on his chest. His feet felt miles away as his mind seemed to disconnect from his body.

For a moment, he wished to be surrounded by the trees again. Then reminded himself that it hardly mattered, that none of that mattered until they had James again.

Caspar turned his eyes down to the cobblestones under their feet. Alexander's whisper of an endless cycle of death came back to him, and Caspar hated to think of what they'd find within the palace walls.

Someone collided into his arm with a squeak. Caspar only had to time to catch himself as the other person was already leaping back with their arms raised defensively.

"Hey, it's alright--" Caspar started, tone placating.

The person, a spindly man with dark hair and a long overcoat, was stumbling over apologies as he practically flailed, looking entirely unsure of what to do with himself.

Mel stopped first before the others and came up beside Caspar, resting a hand on his back. She cast him a concerned look, then turned the same concern to the man Caspar nearly ran over.

"Are you alright?" Mel asked the man.

"Yes, of course," the man answered quickly, rubbing a hand over his eyes, knocking his glasses askew, "I simply wasn't. Paying enough attention."

"Makes two of us," Caspar said, offering an apologetic smile. "You sure you're okay?"

Looking down, the man patted himself as though to ensure he was still intact. "Yes, fine. I'm just late at this point." And he added in a mutter, "She's probably going to have my head for it."

"Then we won't keep you," Mel said with a bow of her head, already starting to turn. "Have a nice evening."

The man nodded once. "You as w--"

"Dad!" a familiar voice called in excitement.

Mel stopped in her steps, head turning.

Caspar didn't even have time to look over his shoulder before a small blur-- the kid from earlier that evening, actually-- whizzed by and jumped at the man.

The man, though stumbling a little, threw his arms around the kid and spun her around with a laugh.

"How is the kingdom's best little cartographer on this fine evening?" the man asked as he set her down.

"Really hungry," Shan said simply.

"Huh," Caspar heard Bo whisper behind him. "Small world."

"Smaller city," Raj remarked under his breath.

Behind Shan and her father, there was a small group of people standing by, looking expectant, like they were waiting.

There were two men with long, dark curly hair, one whose hair was graying, and one far younger - looked to be a son, as he bore resemblance. The father was stocky, and short, and the son was still short, but a bit more lean.

Beside them were two women who also looked closely related - likely a mother and daughter.

Caspar was ready to step away and get moving again, but something about them, the women's faces, made him double take.

There was something uncanny about how familiar they looked.

The daughter had long, reddish brown hair pulled back into a braid. Her dimpled smile faded naturally as she looked to Shan and her father, then happened to meet Caspar's eyes. She raised a brow. Curious.

"Do you know these guys, Aaron?" the daughter spoke, looking to the man Shan was hugging.

The man, Aaron, shook his head and was about to answer.

This felt like a good time to go.

Caspar, also ready to excuse himself, was already stepping back. Mel beside him followed suit.

"Oh," Shan said first, eyes lighting up with recognition, "we ran into them earlier today. Literally."

Aaron raised both brows. Self-conscious, Caspar scratched behind his ear with an embarrassed smile that felt more like a grimace.

"It was an honest accident," Bo spoke up, stepping forward with a small, charismatic smile. "Though it's a funny coincidence to see you again. I'm Andrei."

He pointed to himself, then to Caspar.

"That's Henry," Bo said, then extended a hand to Aaron to shake. "Sorry 'bout all the fuss."

After a moment's hesitation on Aaron's part, Shan took Bo's hand instead and shook with her whole arm. Bo seemed to match her vigor, though Caspar could tell it was still very restrained in comparison. After a few enthusiastic shakes up and down, Bo pulled away.

"You run into interesting passersby, Shan," the young woman remarked with a smirk.

"Is it my height or is it the eye?" Bo asked. "Or lack thereof, I should say."

The young woman's eyebrows raised for a moment, but was otherwise nonplussed.

"Both, I suppose," she answered.

"Fair," Bo nodded. "And what's your name?"

"Hm," she said, glancing back at her company. "Larrel."

"Nice to meet you all," Bo said, starting to nod to everyone in acknowledgement, like he was making their final farewell. "Aaron. Larrel. Sh--"

"You guys hungry?" Shan asked abruptly.

With a look of panic, Aaron tried nudging her along. "Now, I'm sure they'll work something out if they haven't already, we shouldn't impose on your mom--"

Digging in her heels, Shan pointed the direction that Aaron tried leading her and added, "Our house is right there."

Aaron picked Shan up under her arms and muttered through a tense smile, "They don't need to know that."

Caspar, taking another step back, was about to interject that they were fine and try to move everyone along as well.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind--" Larrel started to say.

The door to the house that Shan pointed out swung open. Ava waved from the doorway and called, "Oh, hey! There you all are, I was wondering what--"

Her face then lit up when she saw Bo and Caspar, and she stepped out with the kind of warm smile that usually preceded invitation.

"Wow," Ava said brightly as she approached, "what are the odds? Andrei, right?"

"That's me," Bo said with a warm smile in return. "Small world, it seems. We just met your husband, here. Aaron, right?"

Still holding his daughter aloft, Aaron nodded and weakly answered, "Yes, that's me."

"You all just passing through?" Ava asked.

Shan piped up before they could answer, "I invited them to dinner. Larrel thinks it's a good idea, too."

"It'd be interesting," Larrel said with a small smile and a shrug.

"I like meeting new people," the younger man behind her spoke up. He looked to Bo and Caspar, briefly meeting their eyes, smiling as well. "I'm Petrus."

Bo gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

Ava smiled even brighter. "Have you eaten yet?" She pointed back to her front door. "We have plenty to go around, if you want to sit for a spell. The fact that we've run into you again feels a bit like a sign. Right, Aaron?"

Aaron sighed, looking resigned. Ava then elbowed his side, pointedly clearing her throat.

"Uh, yes," he quickly amended, though with little enthusiasm, "we could...acquaint ourselves, visit."

Bo smiled brighter.

"If you have room for us, we'd love to join you," he said.

"It's settled, then!" Ava declared.

Ava then stepped around her husband to greet Larrel and her family. Aaron plastered on a polite smile and led the way inside after he set Shan back on her feet. Sticking beside Bo as they walked, Shan asked him about any food intolerances, then food preferences.

Caspar lingered at the back for a moment, staring blankly at the house.

This was happening, it seemed.

He would have personally insisted that they needed to get going, that there wasn't time to spare. But, in truth, they did have time. They were set to actually take action well after dark, and the offer to a free meal beforehand should be welcome.

Mel and Hild filed inside ahead of him. With her arm linked with Larrel's, Ava gently ushered Caspar along too.

Aaron led everyone through an entryway, then veered left into a moderately-sized dining area. He mumbled something along the lines of, "Get comfortable if you can," and promptly disappeared into a separate room.

Ava stepped around Caspar into the dining room, leaving Larrel beside him.

"Sorry," Ava said, "we won't be able to fit everyone around the table. But we have enough chairs around the house. Aaron should be fetching them."

Leaning back out of the dining room, she called down the hallway to Aaron, just to be sure that he was in fact fetching extra chairs. He answered back tiredly that he would, so Ava excused herself as she disappeared into the kitchen. Larrel's parents followed after, insisting on helping. Hild disappeared with them after offering her services as well.

Bo and Raj stepped out and offered assistance to Aaron. That left Mel and Caspar with Larrel, Shan, and...Petrus, was it? That sounded right.

As Bo returned briefly with chairs in tow, Caspar side-stepped out of the way and bumped Larrel in the process. He swore under his breath as he quickly stepped back again.

"Sorry," he said, "sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today, I just-- Sorry."

"Are you always this clumsy?" Larrel asked with a little smile and a faint laugh in her voice.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Not usually."

"Well, at least you bumping into people led you to a dinner and not something else," Larrel said lightly.

Caspar smiled weakly. "I suppose." He then stuck out a hand. "I, uh-- Henry, by the way. Um, Johansson. Larrel, was it?"

"Yeah," she said, shaking his hand in return. "Larrel. Larrel Rikk."

He offered a warmer, less unsure smile as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. "Nice meeting you." He nodded in the direction of the kitchen and asked, "You, um, good friends of theirs?"

"Neighbors," she said. "I'm good friends with Ava and Shan, but Aaron's busy working most days, so this is my first real opportunity to sit down with him, aside from, you know, greeting each other in passing."

She glanced back into the kitchen as well, then leaned in a little closer to Caspar, keeping her voice down. Caspar tilted his ear down a little in turn.

"Ava says he tends to be a hermit when left to his own devices. So this is her trying to help him make friends, you know?" she whispered. "Honestly, Shan got all of her extroversion from her mom."

Aaron was rather averse to the suggestion of unexpected additional guests. Caspar figured it was just a reasonable wariness of strangers in a large city

"I understand needing some space," Caspar murmured. Then hastily added, "Not that-- I mean, this is fine. This--" He gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "It's just that. Big cities are still kind of...new for me, is all. I grew up in a really small town."

Larrel nodded slowly.

"I get that," she said. "I grew up on a farm as a kid, only ever going into the nearest small town when my parents traded and sold things. Moved to the city when I was still young, but the transition was pretty jarring."

She looked up at Caspar with casual interest.

"Is this your first time in King's Peak?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "Haven't been this far south before."

"So what brings you here, then?"

Caspar blinked.

They'd already crafted fake backstories and the like well before tunneling below the wall. But now he was blanking on even the smallest details. For just a split second, but it was likely noticeable all the same.

Mel, who had been quietly hovering close by, inserted herself with a smile.

"My brother and I are here visiting family. Henry's a good friend, and this is our first time bringing him down to meet them," she said. "I'm Melissa, and my brother - his name's Ransom--" she gestured behind her, where Raj and Bo had disappeared to help Aaron. "And then there's Andrei. And well, he's been our friend so long - you know how it is. He's family. We grew up together and all."

Larrel nodded with a faint grin.

"I get that. Family isn't always the people related by blood. Family's complicated like that. But good, too," Larrel said.

Quietly, Caspar nodded likewise.

"And your family. It was what, Petrus--?" Mel started.

"Yeah," Larrel said, brightening. "Petrus is my older brother. And the two you saw go into the kitchen with Ava, those are my parents."

"I don't think we caught their names quite yet," Caspar said.

"Oh, right," Larrel said. "Well, I'm sure you'll meet them when we sit down, but my mother's name is Jane, and my father's is David."

She faltered, as if debating on saying something, and then continued.

"Well, step-father," she corrected. "I'm sure you've noticed the lack of resemblance. Petrus and I are step-siblings."

Caspar offered a tentative smile and murmured, "You all seem a very nice family either way."

"Thanks," Larrel said, shooting him a small smile in return. "We like to meet new people, and well, we get a lot of those coming through town. In our line of work we get all sorts of people coming through, too. Adventuring types, soldiers, hunters, traders, merchants, carpenters, everything in-between. We're in the smithing business. My brother's the one who makes specialty weapons and what-not, so he's more likely to work with the adventurer types. But I'm a little nosy, so I always poke my head in."

"Oh, wow," he said softly with a small grin of fascination. "And what do you specialize in?"

"Well, I do a lot of basic metalworking, making parts that a lot of carpenters use in construction. But on my off hours Petrus lets me take his projects and practice with them," she said. Puffing up a little with pride, her smile grew. "I guess you could call me something of a weapons expert. Or at least, I'm becoming one."

"Well on your way, I'm sure," Caspar agreed with a nod. After another brief hesitation, he said, "I, um, work as a sort of carpenter, actually. Mostly finished work and furniture nowadays."

"Well, if you ever need to stop by," Larrel said. "Rikk's is the best in the business."

Elbowing him in the arm lightly, she smiled.

"And yes, that's me advertising, but I'm also right. Anyone in this city would tell you so," she said.

He huffed a laugh. "Even a rival business?"

"If they were being honest, yes," Larrel said with a small smirk. "Our name's the biggest in King's Peak for a reason. Though I guess you wouldn't know, being a newcomer and all."

Mel looked to Caspar with a small shrug.

"I have heard good things about them," she said in Larrel's defense.

His own smile growing, Caspar raised both brows. "You are right, I had no idea I was rubbing elbows with such distinguished company."

"Guess that makes you lucky for something," Larrel said jokingly. "You should bump into people more often. Maybe you'll meet the king next."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Mel laughed, looking to Caspar with a lighthearted, teasing smile. "We'd have to be a lot more important to ever get close enough to bumping shoulders with him, though," she said, patting Caspar on the back. "As it stands, we're just travelers passing through."

"Just passing through," Caspar echoed with another nod, "so I sadly don't have any tools on me either. Otherwise I'd consider bringing them to you for any repairs."

"A real shame," Larrel said.

"Though," he added, "I'm not entirely sure, actually, if--"

With a large serving bowl in one hand and a cutting board covered with bread slices in the other, Ava strode into the dining room with a wide, slightly flustered smile as she declared, "It's finished!"

Jane and Hild followed close behind her with a couple of wide platters of vegetables each. David trailed in with extra dishes stacked rather high in his hands, and all four finished setting the table. Bo, Raj, and Aaron arranged the additional chairs in odd spaces--not quite squeezed around the table, but not quite in the corners of the room either.

"The oven refused to cooperate at first, so the bread was kind of holding up the entire operation," Ava said apologetically.

"Hate it when that happens," Bo responded empathetically.

With a reassured smile, Ava then waved everyone closer so they could begin plating the food.

A bowl full of a rich, creamy soup with a spoon and thick slice of bread sticking out of it was suddenly in Caspar's hands. With a slight smile and murmured, 'thanks' to Jane, he stepped away from the table a little and found himself a chair in one of the odd spaces. Mel took the seat beside him. Closer to the table at the head of everything, Ava sat between Mel and Aaron; Larrel settled in the chair at Caspar's left; and then her brother Petrus sat next to her.

Caspar had to lean forward a little if he wanted to see the rest of the table past Larrel.

During the bustle of making sure everyone was set up and comfortable, Ava maintained a cheerful smile and comfortable conversation. Her husband, in contrast, somehow faded into the background, despite being seated directly at the table, front and almost-center. Aaron's eyes darted back and forth across the table, studying their impromptu guests (Bo, especially closely) and seeming to take in every conversation in the room.

While Caspar knew reservation-- and perhaps anxiety as well-- when he saw it, there was something in the man's alert gaze and rigid posture that gave Caspar pause. It was particularly distrustful, and even felt like he was sizing up a few of them (Caspar included).

Between Aaron's standoffish demeanor and the fast-returning headache, Caspar found himself having trouble following the two conversations right around him. Going back and forth Ava and Petrus about family businesses, to Mel and Larrel's dialogue on city life, Caspar kept losing track of details and any subject changes. Eventually, he decided it was a losing battle and turned his focus onto an anecdote about one of Petrus's most recent clients, as well as the slice of bread in his soup. Because it was very good bread.

"There was this man that came in with an affinity for throwing knives," Petrus said. "He already had a sizable collection but he wanted some signature pieces. Throwing knives are delicately balanced, you know, because you can't just throw any knife and expect it to fly the same as one made for that. Of course, I've been making throwing knives for years. So I showed him a few I'd already made, but he wanted one specifically made out of obsidian, which is a little harder to get a hold of. It ended up being a really beautiful knife, though, and he paid well for it."

Petrus paused, taking a quick spoonful of soup before he continued.

"Sometimes it's a little sad, letting go of a piece I worked so hard on. But when wealthy people want special weapons and are willing to pay good money for it, I can hardly argue, you know?"

"Completely understandable," Mel said with a nod.

"I still think you should've up-charged him on that one," Larrel said. "Just because he probably would've paid you more anyway. He was like, obsessed with it. The knife."

"See," Petrus said, pointing his spoon at his sister. "What Larrel doesn't get is that a lot of these special-weapon adventurer-hunter types have a penchant for being difficult if things don't go their way. You think I'm going to overcharge a guy who has an obsession with throwing knives? I'm trying to run a business, not play with fate."

"You should've brought me in to negotiate," Larrel countered.

"You would've made it worse," Petrus laughed. "Dad knew what he was doing when he assigned you the carpenter clients. They're not going to slit your throat if you give them screws that are half an inch too long and then delay their order by a few days because you messed up."

"Except I never do," Larrel defended.

Petrus rolled his eyes and looked to Mel and Caspar with a look that expressed: "See? this is what I have to deal with every day." It was a particular expression of pure exasperation that only siblings seemed to know how to wear best.

"She believes she is both infallible and invincible," Petrus said sarcastically.

"Maybe I am," Larrel said with a shrug, though she seemed to be at least partially joking in her delivery.

"Well I'd really rather us not find out about the latter," Petrus said, turning to her again.

Looking the slightest bit chastened, Larrel huffed through her nose, and took another scoop of soup before she looked to Caspar.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked.

Looking up, Caspar blinked as it took him a second to realize that that was directed toward him. Once the question itself registered, he nodded and slowly answered, "A brother, yeah."

"What's your brother like, Henry?" Larrel asked. "Is he always this annoying?"

She gestured to Petrus with her thumb. To which Petrus gave the same, long-suffering expression and a shake of his head, choosing to focus on eating instead of a retort.

Caspar smiled fondly. "I guess. Perhaps more so, even. Though it seems every sibling believes themselves stuck with the most annoying family, compared to others." He looked back down at his now-empty bowl. "S'all relative."

"Finally, a level-headed response," Petrus said.

"I was looking for a little bit of validation, but you know what, that's fine," Larrel said with a little laugh. "We both love each other at the end of the day, though, right?" she asked, looking to her brother.

"Of course, sis," Petrus said with a little smile, and then returned again to his food.

"So what's your brother's name?" Larrel asked, turning again to Caspar.

"He, um--" Caspar stumbled over proper wording, then opted to just answer, "Hugo."

"Where's he at these days?" she asked.

Caspar gave a small, close-lipped smile. "Holding down the fort back home. We co-own our carpentry shop."

"Oh! So you do business with your brother too!" Larrel said. "It's always nice when the business can get passed down like that."

Nodding, Caspar took a bite of his bread, if only to buy himself a moment to further organize his thoughts.

"Yeah," he went on after swallowing, "it-- it works well. I'm more on the construction side of it. He's the businessman, the face of the company, and crunching the numbers."

That was the hope, anyway.

Once he inherited the boat-building business, Henry had fully planned on making the company his own with Caspar as his number two. And if Felix had a problem with that, Henry was ready to simply tell him off.

For a second, Caspar fought the sudden urge to just smack himself for even trying to mix fact with fiction like this.

He quickly asked, "Um, anymore siblings? Or. Family in general, around or outside these parts?"

Larrel smacked her lips in an "ah," and nodded, though more to herself.

"Well, none on my mom's side that are living, anyway," she said. "At least, so far as I know. My dad - my biological father - passed when I was a kid, and my grandparents on both sides sadly passed pretty early on before I was born. There's a little bit of a gray area with my oldest brother, but at this point, it's been almost ten years, so, who knows where he ended up." She shrugged, thinly veiling what seemed to be a tension unresolved under the surface of her words, eager to gloss it over as she moved on.

Across the table, though, Caspar caught Jane, Larrel's mother, looking her way. Her expression was brief, but there was a flicker of apprehension that quickly disappeared as she looked back to Hild, Raj, and Bo, who were easily keeping up a lively conversation at their end of the table.

"We've got grandparents on the Rikk side, though," Larrel continued. "David's parents are super sweet, quiet folk, and uh -- so Petrus's late mother's parents. They're around too. And they're obsessed with me and Petrus. Spoil us every time they see us. It's great. They live just down the street, too. So we get spoiled a lot."

The Rikk family bit was almost lost on him for a moment. Though it was fleeting, the look in Jane's eyes was familiar. It was like peering into a mirror for that second, and it yanked Caspar out of the conversation.

But then her eyes kept looking like someone else's, someone he knew. So didn't Larrel's smile.

Larrel mentioned a farm in her childhood? A biological father who passed away early on, a missing brother of nearly ten years...

Oh.

No, no way, nope.

Caspar slowly nodded and managed a sincere enough smile as he answered quietly, "They sound really great."

"You all won't be here for this, since you're just passing through, but it's a shame you won't get to taste my grandparent's cooking," Larrel said with a smile. "We'll have the Kellers over for dinner sometime, though, I'm sure."

"Alas, we'll definitely miss it, but I hope this is the start of a good relationship between you and the Keller family," Mel said with a small smile.

"Such is life," Larrel shrugged. "I'm already great friends with Ava and Shan, though. Right Ava?" she looked across the table at Ava, who was briefly not engaged in conversation. Just enough to pull her to their side of the table to talk.

Ava lit up as she reached across and gave Larrel's hand a tight sqeeze. "My gods, I do not know where we would be if it weren't for the Rikks!" she said with a bubbly laugh. "I'd be completely lost in such a big city. They showed us the inner workings of the place, the best shops and hours to visit, and folded us into their lives--" She waved both hands emphatically. "Literal life-savers."

"I'm a hero," Larrel said with a little laugh in her voice.

"We're just looking out for each other," Petrus said. "You can still look out for your neighbors even in a big city like this."

"See? We've got your back, Aaron," Larrel said, finally drawing attention to the man who'd remained silent for the last - at least - thirty minutes.

Aaron nodded and said, rather stiffly, "Yes, we appreciate you as neighbors." When he caught how Ava's smile faltered a little, Aaron cleared his throat and added, "Truly. You are very dear to my family, and I value that."

"Well, if you come by more often, maybe you'll get to appreciate us more yourself," Larrel said lightly with a small smile. "You're always welcome at our place."

Mustering a slight grin in turn, Aaron nodded. "I. Thank you. You're very generous."

"Don't mention it," Larrel said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "So, Aaron. Shan says you're busy with work a lot of time. What kind of work do you do?"

Aaron poked at his food with his fork as he answered, "I work as a private physician for the kingdom's armed forces."

"Ooooooooh," Larrel said with interest.

Petrus paused in his eating to look up at well, interest piqued. "That's cool. So do you work in the palace, then?"

"Yes," Aaron answered.

Ava clicked her tongue with mild chagrin. Aaron shrugged, unsure of how to amend.

"That's a bit of a commute," Petrus remarked simply. "Though I guess it could be worse. You could live in the northern square. But the palace is what - thirty minutes to an hour from here, depending on the time of day and the foot traffic? Sometimes we go that way when we're doing work with the army. You know. Smithing. Weaponry, and all that."

Nodding again, Aaron said, "Commute's fine. Well-worth the pay."

"Usually is when you're working at the palace," Petrus nodded with understanding.

"Except that a lot of the people who work there've got sticks up their butts," Larrel said with a little smirk before taking a bite of food as if to disguise her amusement at her own comment.

Ava politely didn't make comment, but Aaron rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with a groan.

"Upper management in the palace is insufferable," he agreed.

"How upper we talking?" Petrus asked.

Caspar set his bowl on the table. As he reached over, he glanced over everybody at the other end of the table. The strange possibility that they were potentially dining with James's family nagged relentlessly at him. He needed someone to confirm either what he was seeing or that he was finally losing it. He'd gladly take either, honestly.

As he leaned back again, slightly stiff and bouncing his leg, he then wondered if he even could pull someone aside, out of earshot, without Aaron going back on high alert.

Caspar then felt Mel's eyes on him. She looked like she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth shut.

There was a glint in Aaron's eyes now, something almost boastful as he said quietly, "City walls-high, you could say."

Larrel and Petrus both looked at each other, then back at Aaron.

"Who, exactly?" Larrel asked.

Glancing sideways at Mel, Caspar made up his mind. He was crafting a polite excuse to step out while Aaron momentarily paused for the ridiculous intent of dramatic effect. The half-formed words died in Caspar's throat when Aaron finally answered with an almost-haughty head-tilt, "Haddon."

Frozen in his seat with water pressing inward on his lungs, Caspar stared blankly at the small man.

"Wait, which one?" Larrel interjected, eyebrows shooting up.

Aaron grinned. "Carter."

Caspar's stomach twisted. He clenched his trembling hands on his lap.

Aaron must have access to secrets in the palace as a doctor working directly under Carter-- he could know where James was.

And Caspar wasn't sure if that was an entirely good thing. He hated to assume the worst of anyone, but something was inexplicably and completely off about Aaron.

"Ohhh, so you're working for the son," Larrel said. "I've heard all sorts of rumors about him, but, you know, never really seen him in person. I've met some people who work waaaay under him. They're the ones who come in to pick up stuff, but they never interact with him personally. What's he like?"

"Is he as..." Petrus paused, holding his hands up as if to indicate something small. "You know. Short as people say?"

"I've heard he's like, scary and friendly all at the same time," Larrel said. "Don't know how you manage that."

"He's wretched," Aaron said plainly.

Ava smacked his arm. He recoiled, but persisted, "Horrid, truly. Haddon wears his masks well, but that's all it is. An act--"

Jumping to his feet, Caspar knocked his chair back. The floor tilted when he reached to grab it again, and he uttered hasty apologies as he clumsily set the chair upright. All heads turned toward him, and his stomach lurched. With everyone's gazes on him-- a mix of concerned, simply surprised, and sharp assessment-- he couldn't breathe right anymore.

Mel's hand gently rested on his back. When her face came into focus, she was speaking with Ava before turning to him.

"Hey, Henry," she said softly. "Let's step outside, okay? Get you some air."

He nodded faintly with another soft apology, and let her lead him out of the dining room. On their way through the front hall, voices drifted out behind them as Bo and Hild quickly smoothed things over. Something about a dairy intolerance, which Caspar would've laughed about if he were in a better state.

The cold air rushed in as they stepped out. Mel quietly closed the door again as Caspar leaned heavily on the wall beside it.

"We'll be leaving soon after this, you know," she said, continuing to speak softly. "We have a few hours to kill, but we haven't forgotten."

Nodding vigorously, Caspar drew in a slower, deeper breath. It caused a sharp pang in his chest, and he grimaced.

"Bo's been like this since I can remember," Mel went on. "Somehow, he always ends up in situations like this, talking to a bunch of strangers. He's just... a people person, and somehow he's a magnet for other interesting people. Maybe it is the scar. I don't know. But it's just a dinner."

She paused, drawing closer to set her hand on his arm as she looked up into his face. There was a part of her expression that clearly read deep concern, but he knew what she looked like when she was intently checking for symptoms.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, even softer.

"M'fine," he said quickly, instinctively. Then he swallowed and laughed wryly. "Stupid answer, yeah, it's. I've been better?"

"What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked, peering up at him more closely. Then she glanced off into the small front yard. Near the fenced entrance, there was a small, stone bench.

"Here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Walk with me."

Caspar quietly followed her down the front steps, and managed across the yard without tripping on his own feet. Even though the ground still felt a little unsteady underneath him, he remained standing, and lightly tugged on Mel's hand before she could take a seat on the bench.

"If you think I'm just going insane, tell me honestly, alright?" he murmured. "Did... Did Larrel and Jane look familiar to you? In any way?"

Mel paused, pursing her lips in thought.

"I suppose so," she said quietly. "In an uncanny, coincidentally James-like way. But that may just be because he's been on all of our minds lately."

Caspar breathed a sigh of relief. His legs wobbled slightly, so he sat down on the cold bench, heavier than intended.

"Everything that Larrel said? It all matched up with what I know about James," he went on, looking up at Mel. He raised his hands in a shrug. "Which, I know, what are the odds? It feels like I'm-- I probably am just desperate at this point, and reaching for something that isn't there, but it all lined up exactly--" He stopped short when he remembered Aaron.

"Can I ask," Mel said slowly, softly. "What exactly lined up?"

"Something's off," Caspar muttered instead, raking a hand over his hair, "something's not right with him. I don't know whether to ask him for more information about his work, or to just-- Get the hell away from him--"

"Are you talking about Aaron, now?" Mel asked.

Grasping her hand again, he said urgently, "You all definitely need to get away from him-- Aaron. Nothing good can come out of affiliating yourselves with a man who works so closely with Carter, even if it is just a dinner-- You know what." Caspar forced himself to his feet again. "I think I will talk to him--"

Mel grabbed his hand more firmly and yanked him back down to the bench with a surprising amount of force.

"Not in this state you're not," she said.

Caspar landed with a grunt. "We can't just--"

"What are you going to do, Caspar?" Mel cut in with a harsh whisper. "Walk in there and then what? Tell Aaron thank you for the meal but you don't like his boss because he captured our friend? Aaron might not be the friendliest person, or the most open, but lots of people have plenty of reasons to keep secrets from a group of strangers they're hosting in their home. You don't even know him, Caspar. There are hundreds of other people like him in this city who work in the palace, and you can't fight them all just because they work under Carter. I know you're feeling antsy, but you're going to have to let this go."

She paused, letting out a deep breath.

"At least... your issue with Aaron, anyway. I don't know about Larrel and her family. Even if there are things in her story that seem to align with what you know about James, you can't be sure unless you ask some deeper, probing questions, and we're strangers to them. And if you're wrong, what then? Then you might have to explain more..."

She looked off to the porch, eyes lingering on the front door.

"Though I suppose he was pretty careful to protect his family," she said softly. "If the name he's wanted for isn't even his real one. So... maybe it wouldn't hurt that much to ask. It's not like they'd piece together that he's the same person if they haven't figured it out by now. Not that it's by any means obvious."

Caspar glanced off sideways with a huff and pressed his nails into his palms.

"Mel," he said, quiet but earnest, "I really don't want to fight anyone. I--" He inhaled sharply through his nose, then let out a heavy breath as he dropped his gaze down to his shoes. "You're right, I can't say anything. It just. So much is happening right now, it feels like so many things are within reach, but he's still so far away, and I feel like I have to do something. It's just hard to..." His voice threatened to break as he finished, "...let go."

Mel rested her hand on the back of his shoulder, but was quiet for a moment.

"And what if--" He stopped himself short, didn't dare finish that thought, then raked his hands over his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I'm sorry, I just-- I need to get a grip."

With his head bowed now, Caspar quietly counted the stones under their feet, wondering just for a moment if perhaps he shouldn't have come. If he should've left this in far more capable hands.

"I don't think you're falling apart, Caspar," Mel said softly. "But just remember... you're not in this alone, okay? We're all here for you. And Hild. And we're going to do everything we can to get him back."

Letting his hands drop and sitting straighter again, he nodded silently.

He couldn't afford to second-guess himself like this, not now.

Looking up again, Caspar met Mel's encouraging gaze. Mel offered him a small, comforting smile, and he felt somewhat bolstered by the reassurances.

Then he sighed with a grimace and mumbled, "Gods, I've been a mess today." Then added in a weak attempt at brevity, "Really not a great first impression." Though he supposed it was an honest one.

"First impression to whom?" Mel asked gently.

Caspar gestured vaguely around them. "I don't know, just. Anyone."

"None of us are expecting you to have it all together," Mel said softly. "Listen. We've -- Bo, Raj, Robin, myself, and even Lyall -- we've been through a lot together. All sorts of missions, with all sorts of people, and not all of them go as planned. It's rare that things ever do. We just take things as they come, and we stick by each other through it. And that's what you've been brought into, now, with us. You're a part of the family, now. Your joys are our joys, and your pain is our pain. We're not expecting you to impress us with how stoic you can be. You just be you and do the best you can do today. And lean on us as much as you need to until you're able to hold yourself up on your own. And when you need to lean again, you do. That's just part of life. We all take turns leaning."

Swallowing thickly, Caspar sat quiet, letting her words sink in.

He wasn't sure when-- or even if-- he'd ever be comfortable with any of his shortcomings, but then he supposed that wasn't the point. Everyone together, as a unit, made each other more complete, and he had to at least take comfort in that.

"Thank you, Mel," he said softly. Mustering a small, steadier smile, Caspar then added, "Do you ever tire of being right all the time?"

Mel's face lit up with amusement, and her whole face smiled. She let out a small huff as pulled her hand away from his shoulder to very lightly elbow him in the side.

"Are you trying to flatter me?" she teased lightly. "It's not going to work. I'm still not going to let you go in there and crash the dinner party."

Caspar huffed a laugh and said, feigning disappointment, "Worth a shot."

"Maybe at the next one you can make a little scene," she said, still with a teasing grin. "Just a little one. I'll allow it."

He felt himself smile a little easier. "With your blessing, I shall do so in good conscience."

"Good to know your conscience is clear," Mel said. "Now that that's out of the way, we should probably discuss your bowels being clear. Since apparently, Henry now has a severe dairy intolerance."

Caspar barked a laugh. "Lingering discomfort shouldn't be too hard to fake." Pushing himself back to his feet, he gestured across the yard toward the house. "Think we should play it up?"

"As long as you don't overdo it," Mel said as she stood, but then tilted her head to the side in thought. "Though, considering your dramatic exit, perhaps a little drama is called for. You know, for consistency and continuity."

"Okay."

Leaning heavily on her shoulder, Caspar groaned loudly as he clutched his stomach. "I have...regrets," he said with exaggerated distress.

Mel giggled softly.

"Believable," she said. "Now let's get back in there, okay?"

Once Mel and Caspar excused themselves, Bo jumped in with a question about any cream in the soup. Ava was apologetic when he explained away the disruption with an extreme dairy intolerance. Rubbing her temple and just managing to not sigh out loud, Hild eventually had to cut in with a quiet, "Not at the table," when he breezily continued to elaborate. After a quick apology, he changed the topic, connecting with Ava about cooking instead.

With nearly everyone moved on, comfortable conversations filled the room once more. From her corner of the table, Hild glimpsed the still-rigid lines of Aaron's posture as he clammed up again. He cast frequent glances around and at the doorway to the dining room, almost expectantly.

He likely wasn't keen on saying much more on the matter of his work. Which was a shame, since any details he could offer would be immensely helpful. Alas.

When she turned back to Jane beside her, Hild decided that Aaron's daughter may be the better conversant at the moment, given their closer proximity and Shan's willingness to share.

"Will you be in King's Peak for long?" Jane asked politely.

"For a few days at most," Hild answered. "Then we'll have to be back on the road."

Jane nodded, giving Shan a small smile as the girl peeked way around her. Jane tilted her head to the side as if to give her permission to jump in.

Immediately taking the invitation, Shan asked, "Where'd you guys say you came from?"

Hild offered her a small smile and said, "Ruddlan. About a month's worth of travel one way, so we can't stay long."

Shan brightened a little. "There are a lot of griffins there, right?"

"Some, yes," Hild said. "Either wild or with trained handlers. I live above my shop in the business sector, though, so I don't often have opportunity to encounter them."

Shan tilted her head. "You don't ever explore?"

"On occasion." Hild neatly tore her bread slice in half. "I'm simply kept quite busy with work. And any leisure time I do have I prefer to spend with a good book indoors."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Shan hummed. "You sound kinda like my dad."

Hild nibbled on her bread a little, then asked, "How so?"

"He's almost aaalways working," Shan said, sounding exhausted by the mere thought of it. "And he'll come with me around the city when I ask, but I know he likes being here at home way more."

"Well," Hild said, a little slower now as she carefully felt out how to best steer this conversation, "working under a name like Haddon's, I imagine your father has a lot of responsibilities, and needs the rest when he's back."

Shan nodded. "A lot. Especially now that he's got a big case."

Jane's eyebrows went up and she met Hild's eyes for a moment. It seemed that her eye contact was solely to share her mild surprise before she returned her attention to Shan, curious, but with the apprehension of an adult who wasn't sure if a child was about to overshare.

"I'm sure he's doing very important work," Jane said with a placid smile.

Shan stirred her soup with her spoon. "I guess. It's only been a week with this one so far."

They had waited a week for Caspar's recovery. If Carter hastened as they did, he and James will have been in King's Peak already for about that long.

"Sometimes that's how work ebbs and flows," Jane said, trying to sound encouraging. "There are busy seasons for a bit and then it lightens up again. I'm sure he won't be so busy forever."

There was a beat of hesitation before Jane continued.

"Do you know what kind of job he's working on at the moment that's got him so tied up?" Jane asked. "Or is that secret kingdom business?"

Though she asked the latter question in a joking tone, it seemed to be a real one, and the phrasing sounded like she might've been quoting Shan's own words back to her.

Hild busied herself with eating, now that the two seemed to have fallen back in a comfortable rhythm with each other, but continued to listen closely.

Glancing toward the other end of the table, she caught Aaron's attentive gaze on his daughter. There was the faintest of fond smiles on his face.

"Secret kingdom business," Shan said with a grin. Then she waved for Jane to lean closer with a conspiratorial spark in her eyes.

Jane leaned in with a small grin, inclining her ear to Shan.

"I think he's been working with someone in some kind of dungeon," Shan whispered-- so softly that Hild almost didn't hear her. "He talks a lot when he's alone in his study. I heard him complaining about how dirty it is in there, and then something about infection not setting in somehow. I think he's helping someone with a lot of cuts and lacerations."

Jane blinked slowly, and it was clear that though Shan was convinced Aaron was helping people that Jane seemed to have some doubts.

"Ah," Jane said slowly, keeping her voice low to meet Shan's. "I see. Well. I suppose it's good whoever he's helping isn't getting an infection. That's good."

Forcing her hand to stay relaxed as she lifted her spoon from her bowl, Hild locked her gaze firmly at the wall ahead, tempted as she was to glance Aaron's way again. As if she could glean just from looking at him the true nature of his work, or even confirm her growing suspicion that they were a lot closer to finding James than any of them could ever anticipate.

Caspar was right to be unsettled around Aaron, then.

No sooner had she thought this than Caspar and Mel returned. Ava warmly welcomed them back, giving Hild a micro-second of a chance to look their way now as she turned; Aaron straightened, his eyes piercing.

Letting her gaze pass over him and quickly settle on the doorway, she caught the tense lines of Caspar's shoulders as he held Aaron's stare for only a fleeting moment before managing a smile Ava's way.

"I trust that you located our restroom without trouble," Aaron said suddenly, tone over-pleasant and rather pointed. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

Sitting heavily back in his chair again, Caspar looked at him, blankly and with his brows drawn very slightly. "Um, yeah, it was." He glanced off awkwardly for a second. "Intuitively placed. Not a problem."

"We didn't miss too much while we were gone, did we?" Mel interjected more lightly, flashing Ava and Aaron a smile.

"Nothing much," Ava answered as she warmly returned the smile, then added jokingly, "You just came back in time for this week's forecast, actually."

"What's it look like?" Mel asked, bouncing off of her.

"Cloudy," Ava said with an exaggerated sigh, "with a chance of--"

"You do realize, though," Aaron cut in determinedly, "that the restroom is only accessible via indoors?"

Jaw clenching a little, Caspar slowly answered, "Took the scenic route."

Ava smacked her husband's shoulder. Aaron flailed in response, but continued, "Alas, my back door is locked, so, unless by some act of--"

But Aaron was cut short when there was a loud, heavy knock at the front door. Shoving his chair back, Aaron stood abruptly, delaying at the table as he stared out at the hall. Caspar was on his feet in an instant as well, but he kept his eyes focused on Aaron.

"Should I--" Ava started quietly, but Aaron waved a hand and gently said, "No, I'll get it."

He hastily excused himself. He slowed just a little as he passed behind Caspar, who in turn tensely watched Aaron over his shoulder. Then, gaze hardening when their eyes met, Aaron scurried out.

"Good evening, Mr. Keller," a woman's voice came down the hall. "Apologies for disrupting you this evening, but I'm looking for a Jane Rikk. Formerly Hawke. The maid at her residence said she was here."

Hild nearly dropped her spoon at the name.

In her peripheral vision, Hild saw Jane's eyes go wide with confusion and alarm. She looked to David, her husband, and they both shared a similar look of concern.

"For what purpose?" Aaron asked tersely.

"That business is none of your concern, Mr. Keller, as it has nothing to do with you," the woman replied plainly.

"I'll make it my business for as long as she is my guest," Aaron said in a mutter.

"Are you going to cause me any trouble, Mr. Keller?" the woman asked.

At that, Jane got to her feet. David quickly got up and followed behind her as Jane hurried around the table and into the hall towards the front door. Caspar was close on David's heels, and Hild felt compelled to follow too. Ava rose to her feet, but stayed put, face and posture tense with worry.

"Sorry, about that--" Jane apologized, thinly veiling the anxiety in her voice. "I was just--just a little stunned is all."

"Completely understandable, Mrs. Rikk. Don't worry about it," the woman's voice replied.

Frankly feeling at a loss of what to do, Hild looked to Bo. Bo shrugged in a way that seemed to indicate that the situation wasn't their business, and that he was going to let it play out at the moment.

"What's this about?" David asked, putting an arm around Jane's shoulders as the doorway started to get a little crowded.

"I'd like to ask that you and your husband step out, Mrs. Rikk. If you'd like to return to your meal after, you are free to," the woman answered. "Mr. Keller, please step aside."

Aaron muttered again, but Hild couldn't catch any clear words. There was some light shuffling as he stood back, slightly in view beside Caspar.

Hesitantly, Larrel got to her feet and started to push her way to the front door, and Petrus followed behind.

"Is that your family?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Jane answered. "My daughter and son."

There was a beat of silence before Larrel and Petrus disappeared outside with their parents, and the door closed behind them.

"It's been an eventful day for you, hasn't it?" Bo asked across the table, looking to Ava.

Sitting back, perched on the edge of her chair, Ava flashed a slight smile. "Yeah, it's been quite exciting."

"Hopefully it'll calm down for you guys when we head out," Bo said. "I know too much excitement isn't always a good thing."

"It's alright," Ava said with a small wave of her hands, "it's usually pretty boring here, so. Change of pace is welcome."

Out of the corner of Hild's eyes, she could see Mel looking down the hall attempting to subtly but pointedly gesture to Caspar to return to his seat. With a second's hesitation, Caspar stepped back into the dining room. Aaron, eyes trained on Caspar's back, lingered in the shadows of the hallway.

"True," Bo replied, continuing the conversation normally. "Often that's how life goes. It's boring most of the time and then there's little exclamation points in-between. How's the saying go? When it rains, it pours? And rain can be positive or negative depending on how you look at it. Or completely neutral! No need to put a good/bad label on it."

Ava nodded emphatically and shrugged with both hands. "Yes. Sometimes, rain is just rain." She cast a concerned look into the hallway again, at her husband.

"Hopefully it's just rain for your friends," Bo said, a little softer.

She turned back to Bo with a small, close-lipped smile. "I hope so, too."

"Who was it at the door?" Bo asked, looking to Aaron. "Just another neighbor or something?"

Aaron stepped closer at this point, back into lamplight. He stared at the floor for a moment, as if searching for something, then mustered a flat smile. "Ah. Well, just. A guard, here on..." He gestured vaguely. "...some business--"

"What?" Shan jumped to kneel on her chair now. "Why? Is Jane okay?"

"I--" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, then waved his hand around again. "I'm sure it's fine, everything's fine."

Shan didn't look reassured, but didn't press.

Caspar sat down by Mel again. His eyes met Hild's, and he then briefly pointed with his gaze toward Aaron. Hild just turned back to her soup.

"Hey, Shan," Bo said softly, turning to her as he pointed to her bowl. "You've still got a ways to go, bud. It's good to finish your food so you can grow big and strong. Like me."

"Really?" Raj said, finally speaking up. "You're using yourself as the standard?"

"Okay, big and strong like your mom," Bo said, flicking his eyes from Raj to Shan again. "There. Is that more motivating?"

Shan obliged and turned back around to the table with a shrug. "I think I'll aim higher, if I can."

Ava laughed.

"She's got ambition!" Bo chuckled. "We love to see it."

"Better work on your aim, then," Raj said, pointing to her still half-full bowl.

Taking up her spoon again with a nod of determination, Shan tucked in.

Hild hummed a half-hearted laugh as Shan eventually resorted to drinking directly from the bowl.

"Don't forget to chew," Bo cautioned.

"It's soup," Raj said flatly.

"Soup has chunks in it!" Bo defended. "What do you do with the vegetables? Swallow them whole?"

"No, but she's just drinking up the broth, it looks like," Raj responded as they both watched Shan consume her soup vigorously.

"I'm impressed regardless," Bo said with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Not sure if we should be encouraging rapid soup consumption, Andrei," Raj said.

But his head shot up towards the hall when they all heard the front door open.

Stepping back into the dining room from the hall was David, looking very sober as he held his hands together over his stomach like he didn't know what to do with them otherwise. Ava quickly stepped around the table to meet him.

"I'm sorry Ava," he said quietly. "We were just delivered very bad news. It's... well..."

He hesitated as his eyes flicked to Bo, Hild, and the others who were, in complete fairness, strangers to them.

Ava rested a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Here, we can talk in the study, alright?"

David nodded, flashing her the smallest, grateful smile. Ava gently led him down the hall, away from the front door.

There was only a moment's silence before Bo spoke up.

"It seems like now might be a good time for us to head out," Bo said gently. "I want you two to be able to be present for your neighbors without the burden of hosting extra guests, and we should get going soon anyway."

Bo stood up and bowed his head to Aaron, then to Shan. Aaron simply stared at Bo with a hint of visible suspicion. Shan frowned with disappointment, but inclined her head likewise.

"I do hope you know how grateful we are for you all spontaneously welcoming us into your home," Bo continued. "Thanks for feeding us well and being good company. It was a pleasure to meet you all, and hopefully we'll meet again under less rainy circumstances."

He turned to Shan, extending her a hand.

"Keep eating well and growing, okay? You've gotta work hard if you want to catch up to me someday."

Shan, standing on her chair to be somewhat closer to eye level with him, emphatically shook his hand. "Will do," she said with a small grin. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting," Bo said with a smile as he pulled his hand away and turned it into a wave, motioning to the others. Raj and Mel started getting to their feet, and Hild and Caspar followed suit.

Bo walked up to Aaron and paused in front of him, reaching into his pocket.

"I don't have much, but I want to give you guys something for your troubles," Bo said. "Give and give back, I always say."

He pulled out a small pouch that jangled with the sound of clinking coins, and he held it out to Aaron.

Aaron looked blankly back and forth between the money pouch and Bo.

Bo shook the pouch a little, letting the coins clank together again.

"It's okay," Bo said. "You can take it. It's a thank-you gift."

Hesitantly, Aaron accepted the coins and nodded once. "Appreciated," he said stiffly, then stepped back and out of the way. "Have a good night."

"You too, man. Take care," Bo said with a small smile, and at that, he dipped out into the hall, heading for the door. Everyone else filed out behind him, each murmuring their own thanks to Aaron. He silently watched them. Over her shoulder, Hild caught him narrow his gaze very slightly when Caspar nodded his acknowledgement with a neutral expression.

As she followed close behind Bo and Raj, Hild twisted her finger in her palm. She scanned the area once outside; Jane, Larrel, Petrus, and the guard were out of sight.

Jane and Larrel were unquestionably James's family.

Hild wondered for a moment if the guard had come with information on his current whereabouts, then decided it was quite likely that it had something to do with James.

As Bo silently lead them away from the lamplight of the main street, she cast a quick glance back at the Kellers' home.

Aaron may or may not have had a connection to any of this, separate from his family's friendship with the Rikks, but he was a dead end anyhow. He wouldn't talk, and anything he did give them quickly became suspect once Shan weighed in with more in-depth details of his work, mislead as she was about the true nature of it.

Even less sure now was their current timeline. If a guard had just sought out Jane now, how much longer did they have to find James? A few days? One? Less?

All she could think with any certainty was that they-- that James was fast-running out of time.

Whatever reprieve James experienced from being fully healed was temporary. The following two days - because he measured days now by the only visitor he ever got, which was Aaron - were somehow worse than the previous ones combined.

The cycle of healing and pain was relentless. It felt like with every new scar Aaron formed, James's nerves became less and less responsive. Healing magic - whether giving or taking - all started to feel the same. Every nerve in James's body was past the point of overstimulation. Everything hurt. All of the time. He stopped interacting with Aaron altogether because, in truth, he couldn't think to form a single word apart from screams and cries of pain. And when screaming became insufficient, he opted for silence, because there was nothing he could vocalize to make it bearable.

By the time Aaron left the second time, James found himself wondering how much longer it would last. And worst of all, though for years he had practically looked forward to the day he'd find relief in death, he found himself dreading his death to come.

Not because it would be a final end for him, but because he knew in his gut that Carter was going to ensure his family would be there to witness it.

The dread was driving him to a breaking point, and he could feel something inside of him was on the verge of irrecoverably shattering.

Though, he supposed, it wouldn't really matter, much, would it? If he was broken beyond repair? Because he was going to die, anyway.

With no energy to move, and hardly enough energy to think, James laid on the cold, hard table with his eyes closed. At this point, his head was too foggy to entertain any train of thought for very long, and eventually, as was becoming his norm, he simply drifted into an emptiness, somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

His head was heavy, and every breath was a heaved one.

The scraping of the heavy metal door barely registered - or rather, registered far too late.

For the first time in days? Weeks? His wrists were freed, and instead of merely being offered water or being flipped over, this time, he was suddenly being lifted and then carried.

The sudden movement was disorienting. Eyes barely open, he could make out several blurred shadows overlapping. Hands. Arms. Figures. None of them familiar, but none of them clearer than blotches in his vision either.

They spoke to each other in soft murmurs as James was laid out on what felt like a stretcher of some kind. He didn't have the strength to even turn his head and look around as the world started moving.

He was lifted, lowered, carried, and lifted again. Suddenly, he was stripped bare and then submerged in freezing cold water.

That ripped him to his senses. At least, partially.

With his head still clouded in a thick fog, he involuntarily shivered and gasped as he was pulled up out of the water, sitting in a tub with one person on either side, starting to scrub him down.

He blinked several times as water dripped into his vision from his hair, clinging to his eyelashes to make for a very fuzzy picture.

The people washing him - bathing him were working hastily, roughly scrubbing away weeks of grime. One man, and one woman, presumedly servants, and neither looked to meet James's eyes.

Too weak to move as he leaned on the back of the tub, he only blankly stared out into the room.

With mages who were about to be put to death, there was something the hunters called "the last bath." They'd get them all cleaned up the night before they were walked out to either die by hanging, guillotine, or something else just as gruesome. It was a ritual less out of respect for the person being murdered publicly and more for appearances. They didn't want mages to be pitied any more than necessary - not that they wanted them being pitied at all.

The same went for other executed criminals. It seemed James was no different. Except, as it stood, he was too weak to do it himself.

Just as the room started to come more into focus, water was dumped over his head several times, washing away the soapy suds.

With no pause, he was then pulled out of the tub, and they quickly started to pat him dry. At this point, James was past the point of being desensitized to touch, and he didn't have any physical strength to intervene, so it simply... happened.

They dressed him in clean clothes. Nothing remarkable, and nothing new. They were the rewashed clothes they cycled through for all executed criminals, and on James, they hung a little loose. It only occurred to him then that it could've been his rapid weight loss over the past few weeks contributing to the baggy fit.

There was less of him, now. In every sense of the word.

Instead of being laid back down, he was forced to stand on his feet.

Every muscle was stiff, and every joint ached to the bone. His legs buckled beneath him at first, and the servants grabbed him to hold him up, steadying him as he attempted once more to stand on his own two feet.

It was then that he felt a small rush of energy. Warmth, on his back, where one of the servant's hands rested.

They were healing mages.

It made sense.

His head cleared ever so slightly, and the energy was just enough for him to channel it to his legs to hold himself up.

The room was small. Walls made of stone. Shelves of wood with identical, plain clothes and towels. Barrels of water along the south wall. It was the washroom. He recognized it. He'd been in it before, but never as the one in the bath.

Through the small, round window, he could see that it was night. It didn't tell him the hour, but it was the first frame of reference he'd had in some time.

With an insistent push on his back, he was then led out into the hall.

He had to center all of his focus and energy on moving his feet, one at a time. The cool air of the hall wrapped around him with each heavy footfall, and unlike walking for the first time after making a recovery, he felt like he was losing strength with each step.

By the time they entered another room, he was ready to collapse.

They led him to a bed. A real one, with a real mattress, and real sheets. The moment they let him go, he fell face-down onto it, completely spent. Out of what had to be courtesy, one of the servants swept his legs up onto the bed so that he wasn't dangling off the side.

Face buried in the sheets, he listened distantly as their footsteps receded, and a door closed and locked.

Maybe this was the moment's peace granted to him before it was all ripped away.

As he laid down he could feel every part of his body ache. He'd have thought that maybe a final moment's rest on something comfortable would allow his frame to sigh with relief, but ironically, all it did was make the pain more prevalent.

He closed his eyes.

He was too exhausted to even give the energy to feel any emotion. Emptily, he entertained the thought of him being led out onto the stone platform where hundreds of other men and women had died as an "example." He saw himself blending in with the other "criminals." Unremarkable. Soon to be forgotten. Maybe his family wouldn't really believe it was him, after all these years. He liked to think he would seem a stranger to them, and maybe then, it wouldn't feel like they were losing him twice. They'd already lost him long ago.

Deep down, though, he knew that if he'd been identified to them, the resemblance would be undeniable.

Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw his father. He imagined for them, they'd see the same.

He supposed, then, that at the end of it all, his running away really did only bring more pain. Almost eleven years ago, he'd watched his father die. Tomorrow, his family would watch him die.

He hoped that, at the very least, it would be the end of that cycle.

From the residential streets, the palace walls were still visible over the tops of houses as they walked. They kept a fair, steady distance for now.

Hild tied her hair back in a loose braid, then pulled her hood up over her head against the bitter cold. She constantly scanned their surroundings, despite the lack of a steady source of light. Any strange form, every shifting shadow, she sharply assessed for any signs of a threat.

The houses around them gradually turned more modest in size, giving grass and some shrubs more room to grow within yards.

Bo explained that, somewhere in this area, they were going to make a very brief stop at a trusted friend's home. Given the hour, they didn't plan on visiting, just dropping by around the back. Their friend had a shack behind their home that they utilized as a shelter.

It was small. Between the five of them, they filled up most of the space, and were anyone else in the shack, it would've been crowded. On one wall, there was a cushioned wooden bench. Underneath it were boxes that looked to be full of blankets and other miscellaneous supplies.

On the wall opposite, there was a tall shelf full of various food preserves, med-kits, and things one might need for travel.

Taking a seat on the far end of the bench in the corner, Mel let out a deep sigh.

"It would be best that I hang back and wait here," Mel said. "With Caspar. While the three of you go on to the palace."

Bo turned to Caspar and set his hand on his shoulder. Glancing between him and Mel, Caspar looked ready to object.

"A smaller team would be best for this," Bo said softly. "We're aiming to go in undetected, as much as possible. And I wouldn't want to leave Mel alone. She doesn't usually come on the more dangerous half of the missions so that she can be ready to heal when we get back."

Snapping his mouth shut, and clenching his jaw and hands, Caspar seemed to further debate the matter with himself. Set as he was on pushing himself as far as possible, he could be reasoned with, and he was clearly losing this internal battle already.

"And," Bo said even more gently. "In all fairness, I think it'd be best you stayed back considering how you're not at your best right now. You've been wearing yourself thin the last few days, and I think you'd serve us all better waiting here. It's going to be dangerous, and we're going to need to think smart on the go. Your role is still very valuable, hanging back to be ready to receive us in whatever state we return in."

Caspar, hiding his hands in his jacket pockets, exhaled quietly through his nose. Meeting Bo's gaze, he nodded.

"Stay safe," Caspar said. "Good luck."

"Luck received," Bo said with a small smile as he rested one hand over his heart and gave Caspar's shoulder a pat before pulling away.

Caspar took a couple steps back and stood near Mel.

"Alright," Bo said as he straightened up. "Raj and Hild. Are you ready?"

Raj gave a quick nod.

Hild squared her shoulders and answered, "Quite."

"Then we'll waste no more time. Follow me. Keep quiet, and keep your heads down," Bo said as he turned out the door, leading the way out.

With Mel and Caspar behind them as a sort of base, the three at last made their silent approach to the palace walls.

The walls shielding the palace were heavily fortified, with guards constantly on rotation throughout the night. Their window to come as near to the wall as possible was an incredibly narrow one: when the guards were being switched out for each watch.

Torches kept the wall and ground well-lit. The guards on sentry wore armor that glinted in the light as they paced the parapet.

The three lingered back in the shadows, with Raj standing at ready in front.

At the turn of the hour, the two guards on this section of wall began marching over to the nearest tower. Hild mentally timed their measured paces.

The three waited until the second guard had their back fully turned, and when they were the sure the noise of the guards' armor could cover their approach.

Raj took the lead, keeping his steps quick and light. Hild and Bo followed close behind.

Judging from the distance the soldiers had left, and until the new set of guards came out, they only had a couple of minutes.

Just several paces away from the wall, Raj carefully split the ground open with a steady parting of his hands.

The guards disappeared into the tower.

Raj, Hild, then Bo dropped directly down into the hole, and it quickly closed up overhead before she could see the next set of guards step out.

It was pitch black, and so silent that their breaths felt loud. Hild could actually hear when Raj brushed his hands against the wall, and the earth shifted. Raj started forward in the dark, leading them under the wall.

Once past the palace walls, they had to first navigate under structures like stables and storehouses in likely an outer bailey. To keep undetected and since they were essentially going in blind, Raj had to feel around as he inched them along.

It was when Hild had almost entirely lost her own sense of direction that they stopped momentarily. A shaft carefully opened up overhead, and small puff of fresh air rushed in. The night sky above looked bright.

Once their heads and lungs felt a little clearer, the shaft closed up, and they started forward again.

Their pace eventually turned sluggish, halting even, as they burrowed even deeper below the surface. Voice dropped to a murmur, Raj quickly explained that there were things buried around them.

"I can't tell what they are for sure," he said, barely audible. "But some of them resemble... bombs. I imagine they prepared for something like this. I'm going to have to take this slow."

They must have been close, then.

Hild kept quiet, almost holding her breath. When the air in her lungs was spent, she exhaled slowly through her nose. It felt as though just breathing the wrong way could compromise everything.

With Caspar's dented watch in her palm, she felt the seconds pass, counted the minutes of silence.

The ground around them stilled when Raj paused again.

"We're several floors deep," he said. "There's practically a whole fortress underneath the palace. Ten floors deep, with complex venting systems and everything. I wonder how long it's been hiding here..."

Had they had a source of light and pen and paper, Hild would have taken notes. She filed away this information to record later.

"The earth's hard and impacted down here," Raj continued, his voice low. "But they managed to carve into it somehow..."

There was a pause in both his words and his movement.

"...This seems like a 'dungeon' of sorts," he hummed under his breath. "The bottom floor only has a few rooms. There are dozens of guards in the hall but the rooms themselves... are mostly empty. It's... hard to tell. Things get fuzzy if people aren't directly connected with the ground. Beds, seats, anything like that..."

He trailed off, and a few seconds of silence passed.

"Can you get us into one of the cells?" Bo asked.

"I can try," Raj replied. "There's... I can't tell what it is. Like a large grate..."

He muttered more under his breath as he started to dig faster, deeper into the earth. Hild felt them starting to travel upwards at the slightest incline, until they came to a sudden stop.

"Metal," Raj said lowly. "They really thought of everything."

"Guess when you're the king you've got the budget for it," Bo murmured. Hild could hear the faint clinking of someone knocking against iron. "Still. Wonder what he's keeping down here that he's going out of his way to protect."

"If we get out of this we can plan more the second time around," Raj muttered. "I can manipulate a lot things, but not solid steel."

"Is every room guarded like this?" Bo asked.

"Everything but the hall," Raj said.

"Ah. Yes. Where all the guards are," Bo said.

She heard Bo's knuckles crack loudly.

"I'll open up a door through the floor for you," Raj said.

At that, Raj led them in just a little further before a short shaft opened up above Bo, letting in what was mostly dim light, but was bright compared to the pure darkness.

Bo raised his arms swiftly, and with one agile motion pulled himself up and through the hole. She caught just enough light on Raj's face to catch him look to her ever so briefly before he followed in right behind. Hild lingered in the dark, but listened intently.

A few guards above called one another to action. Their words echoed off the cold underground walls, but were cut short with a burst of blue tinted light and a sharp, whip-like crack.

The air buzzed with electricity, making the hairs on Hild's arms stand up.

A few fainter footsteps and thumps were heard, and then the familiar sound of earth shifting, like smooth stones grating against one another. There were some rough sounding grunts, a few more thumps, and one final flash of light before everything went eerily silent.

The air was still charged with electricity, like the air in the middle of a lightning storm.

There was a heavy sigh.

"That should take care of 'em," Bo said, barely audible. "At least 'til their next shift comes around."

Then he lowered his hand down the hole, extending it to Hild. With a hop, she grasped his hand with both of hers, and climbed out with his assistance.

He pulled her up into a wide, stone hallway. The walls were bare aside from firelit sconces, lighting the hall in warm hues. The dancing light painted hard shadows on the dozens of men and women lying prone on the floor, appearing unconscious.

"Metal armor and lightning," Bo said quietly. "Works for me."

He turned away from the bodies lining the floor and faced the heavy metal door at their side. It was bolted shut with a cranking lock, one that required keys. There were three more doors of the same kind that lined the hall, but otherwise, one end of the hall was a dead end and the other was a larger bolted door that assumedly led out.

Raj started rushing to the fallen soldiers, patting them down in search of keys while Bo watched them attentively. Hild swiftly scanned and flitted between the guards likewise.

Tucked just beneath one soldier's breastplate, she found a single key on a hemp cord.

"Got something?" Bo asked in a hushed tone.

"Possibly," Hild murmured.

Searching her own pockets, she cut the string with her embroidery scissors. Then took the key to the nearest door. It seemed the right size.

"Guess we'll have to play 'which door does it open,'" Bo said, looking to Raj, who silently lifted up a set of what looked to be two keys.

"Give it a go," Bo said to Hild.

Hild inserted the key and carefully twisted. It stopped short.

Raj jogged over, holding out four other keys he must've found on the others. As she quickly cycled through them, Bo off to the side kept scanning the hallway.

One key, a lighter brass than the rest, turned the lock. Hild breathed out a quick 'thank you' and pushed on the iron door. It groaned a little, but otherwise stayed put. Bo came up alongside her and leaned his full weight against it.

The door gave way with a heavy sigh. A gust of air, even colder than the cavernous hall, brought with it a stiff, horrid stench. Raj kept watch as Hild and Bo stepped in.

The light from the hallway quickly faded just two paces into the room. Completely dark beyond the door, there was no way to gauge how large or small it was.

Suddenly, a spark crackled beside her, and she looked over to see a ball of glowing blue electricity buzzing between Bo's fingers. It lit just around the doorway, enough for Bo to see a sconce on the wall. He reached out with a sparking fingertip, and after a second's delay, the torch lit.

It took a few more seconds for the fire to burst into a larger flame, bringing more of the room into view.

Only a few feet in front of them, there was a wall of iron bars, and a securely locked barred door. Behind it was another layer of bars, with another door. And behind that... a pair of beady, yellow eyes catching the light of the lit sconce, peering out at them from the shadows.

Then there was a low growl. It started out quiet, but gradually grew louder, and more fierce.

The beady eyed shadow started to move, just enough into the light to make out a small, scraggly wolven silhouette. But the silhouette started to rapidly change. As if the picture in front of her was warping, the silhouette rapidly changed from a short, slender man to wolf, and back and forth again. The silhouette continued to shift from man to wolf as the growl grew louder, and mixed with an eerie, rumbling laugh.

Finally, the werewolf's human form snapped into clarity, and he stood right up against the first layer of thick iron bars separating them. His eyes still glinted with yellow in the firelight, but the rest of him remained heavily shadowed. From what she could make out, the man had very dark skin and short, potentially greying hair that stuck up around his head wildly. His figure seemed to be withering away under his baggy, rag-like clothes, and his unblinking stare was locked onto Hild.

"Come closer," the man spoke hoarsely.

Bo shot out an arm in front of Hild as a very obvious way of telling her no. With her feet firmly planted, not daring to move, Hild silently scanned the room, trying to glean some context from the walls, the floor. Aside from the filth and age clinging to the stones, nothing. Then she turned her gaze back through the bars to the man.

"Who are you?" Bo asked. "Wasn't expecting to find a werewolf down here."

The man flashed a smile that didn't meet his eyes, and then shifted back into a wolf, stalking alongside the bars.

"A wolf. I am more than that," he said lowly, his voice layered over a growl in the back of his throat. "Why don't you come see for yourself? I've been locked up here so long... I've forgotten what the sun feels like. The warmth of the sun... the light... where do you come from?"

Bo flicked a look to Hild. It was one that read: 'this guy might be locked up for a reason.' She was inclined to agree with this assessment.

"Why won't you let the lady talk?" the wolf's voice growled out.

"I choose for myself when I speak, thank you," Hild said curtly to the wolf.

"Better get to choosing soon, then," he replied with a laugh in his voice. "I know you didn't come here looking for me."

"Complete transparency," Bo said flatly. "You really aren't making a case as a reliable source with all the creepy laughter."

The wolf's head tilted, and his glowing eyes turned to slits.

"No one else is down here but me," he said lowly. "Not anymore. Whoever you came here to save? They're long gone. And you've got less than ten minutes and counting until a guard comes down here for their routine sweep."

"See," Bo said, looking to Hild as he pointed to the man on the other side of the bars. "Now he's talking sense but I don't know if he's just saying that to buy our trust or if he's playing both sides."

"It would be better to lead with perhaps a name if he wanted any degree of trust," Hild said with a slight nod.

"Jay," the man answered. "The king's worst nightmare. That's why he keeps me down here."

Suddenly shifting back to human form, the man jumped up, grabbing onto a pair of metal bars as his legs clanged against metal.

"I once fought alongside your kind," he said, more urgent, more earnest. Desperate. "I spilled blood in the war between mage and human. I could help you. I would be a powerful ally--"

"Hold up," Bo said holding up a hand. "Jay. Man. Can I be real with you for a second?"

Jay stared at them in silence.

"We're not looking to spill more blood today," Bo said. "We're just looking for a guy."

Jay didn't respond right away. He slid down the bars, landing on all fours, shifting back to his wolf form as he stared them down.

"Come closer," he said again, this time more insistent. "And I'll tell you what I know."

Bo pursed his lips, then looked to Hild. With a long, deliberate step, he came up to the first set of bars.

"Better make this quick--" Bo started to say.

"Not you," Jay growled. "Her."

His eyes met Hild's like that of a predator spotting its prey.

"The human," he hissed.

Bo blinked, glanced back at Hild, then looked back at Jay.

After a moment where Hild visibly saw the gears moving in Bo's brain, Bo turned for the door to leave.

"We don't have time for this," he said. "Hild, we'll check the other rooms. Come on."

When she moved to follow Bo, Jay shifted again and thrashed against the bars.

"I know his screams!" he shouted through a growl, his voice echoing off the walls and filling the room.

Something-- desperation-- urged Hild closer to the bars now. "Was anyone with you in here?"

The man pressed up against the bars, face squeezed between two of them, stretching his already crazed smile.

"He stopped screaming," the man breathed heavily. "After eight days. You can imagine what a relief it was for my ears."

If the man counted his days correctly...

"Leave him," Bo's voice came softly but steadily from behind her.

Hild hesitated, and in that split second, Jay's body shifted, then bent at wrong angles. Grotesquely. With wide eyes, he launched his twig-thin arm through the bars, and with his form ever-shifting, somehow just barely managed to touch the tip of her knee.

The dank room around them blurred. Her strength somehow spent in the blink of an eye, Hild's legs buckled. She felt as though fire had overtaken her, ate at her skin, and her vision spotted white from the stabbing pain. She couldn't tell if she hit the ground.

The stone ceiling came into focus. The room lurched when she, delayed, registered the fall, then Bo's hands catching her.

"Wasn't nice meeting you," Bo snapped overhead, lifting her off the ground. They spun around, out of the cold air and the stench, and the door closed heavily behind them.

"She okay?" Raj asked.

Bo's face came into focus as he sat her down on the ground, leaning her gently against the wall. Breaths short, Hild braced her hands on the wall, trying to reorient herself.

"Been a long time since I've seen a healing mage that corrupted," Bo said. "How're you feeling?"

Bo put his hand to her forehead as he asked the question.

That man-- Jay was a healing mage?

"Idiotic, mostly," Hild answered, voice too thin.

"Well, you're not burning up so that's a good sign," he murmured. "He didn't drain you for long."

"All the other rooms are empty," Raj said quietly above them. "...Like he said. I checked."

"Anything in there to give us any hints?" Bo asked, still kneeling and looking Hild over.

"Just two empty cells," Raj said faintly. "And... some kind of torture room."

A pause.

"Looked... recently used," Raj said quietly. "We couldn't have missed him by much."

Hild's heart dropped.

James had just been there. They just missed him.

"Well, if he's not here," Bo said lowly, eyes darting to the end of the hall, to the exit door. "I can't imagine us having as good of luck storming the castle. If he's even here."

"They probably took him to the guild's hold," Raj said distantly. "The guards there will be more prepared than these guys."

Bo stared off at the door, his expression sober. Then he turned to Hild, and searched her eyes.

"Another round of guards is likely to come through here," he said. "No real telling when. But we should get you out of here. Do you have strength to move at all?"

With a determined nod, Hild pushed herself to standing. Soreness lingered, and her legs wobbled slightly. Only slightly.

Raj and Bo looked to one another, and Bo gave Raj a nod. With a simple circular motion of his hands, Raj opened up another tunnel down into the ground and jumped down.

Bo turned to Hild.

"I need you to be honest," Bo said sternly. "Can you crawl? It's an upward climb going out. Gravity's working against you."

Hild nodded sharply. "Balance is only compromised when upright," she said.

"Alright," Bo said. "You go ahead."

Kneeling by the edge, a little heavier than intended, Hild lowered herself, then dropped in beside Raj. Bo landed behind her, and the ground sealed itself shut.

The initial uphill climb was fairly steep. Keeping her breaths measured, Hild evened her heart rate.

Even as her mind still raced, trying to calculate how much time they had left to find James, picking apart their encounter with Jay, trying to keep track of their trail going in.

From...whatever Jay did, and now backtracking, though, she felt all turned around and unable to keep her head straight.

Eventually, the tunnel leveled, and they were able to travel faster now that they were on their feet again. With the ticking watch pressed in her palm again, she tracked their progress. They paused for air only twice, and seemed to walk far past the palace walls.

When Raj stopped again, Hild bumped into his back. Before she could murmur an apology, the earth overhead split wide with an audible crack. Air rushed in as the three clambered out.

Raj had taken them as far as the backyard, by the shed.

Walking up beside Raj, Bo gave a heavy pat on Raj's shoulder. Raj only nodded faintly in acknowledgement, looking a little wearied from all of the extensive tunneling.

Bo then looked down to Hild and met her eyes.

"How're you holding up?" he asked in a whisper.

The adrenaline had carried her this far, and was now quickly wearing off. Hild felt wobbly again as she took a step toward the shed.

"A little light-headed," she answered honestly.

"Let's get you inside," Bo said, still speaking lowly.

Raj was already a step ahead of them, slipping into the shed. Hild and Bo filed in behind him.

Inside, Mel waited on the bench, seemingly not having moved since they left. Caspar quietly met them as they entered, scanned the yard outside, then eased the door closed behind Bo.

"We just missed him," Bo said, quickly answering the unspoken question in the room. "He's likely in the guild's hold, now. Executions, at least, are predictable. We know the time and place. We just have a much smaller window."

He paused, meeting Mel's concerned, questioning gaze. She kept flicking her eyes to Hild. Hild didn't trust her own feet, and stayed put.

"We didn't find James, but we did find a healing mage being held down there," Bo said slowly. "His magic is corrupted, and there's no telling how long he's been like that. But he got the jump on us for a second. But we made it out alright. We're just a little winded is all."

Mel stood up and walked up to Hild, silently gesturing to the bench for her to sit down. Hild let herself be led over, and perched on the edge of the bench. Still weakened, she had to lean back.

"Did you recognize him?" Mel asked.

"No," Bo answered. "But... he must be at least 100 years old. He said he's been around since the start of the calamity. Fought in the mage wars."

He paused with a shrug. "That is, if he was telling the truth. But he fit the bill for someone who's been alive for too long."

"Pretty sure he was insane," Raj said flatly, standing in the corner with his arms folded, leaning against the wall.

"Obviously we didn't let him out because with his one second of semi-freedom he tried to kill Hild, so," Bo said. "Unfortunately that man's not getting any kind of help again any time soon."

Mel looked Hild over, her eyes searching. She didn't look overly concerned, but her eyebrows still pinched together.

Resting her hand on the back of Hild's head, she closed her eyes. A comforting warmth radiated from Mel's hand into Hild's skin, and with the warmth came a soothing relief. The sensation lasted about thirty seconds before Mel pulled away, offering Hild a soft smile. Hild weakly smiled back and bowed her head in thanks.

"Mickey might know him, now that I think about it," Bo continued to talk, sounding like he was just thinking out loud, now. He cupped his chin with his hand.

"I thought Mickey said he didn't fight in the mage wars," Mel commented.

"No, but he was alive then," Bo continued.

"You act like Mickey knew everybody by virtue of existing," Raj said tiredly.

"He was a very well connected man!" Bo said, gesticulating towards Raj. "Still is..."

"You can ask him about it later," Mel reminded him, and that was all that was needed for Bo to drop the subject.

With a sigh, Bo leaned back on an open space on the wall.

"Well, we'll need to be up bright and early, then," he said. "I may need to disturb Adina after all. Unless you're all cool with dogpiling in the shed."

There was an awkward few seconds of silence that followed.

"Thought so," Bo said. "Cool. I'll go... wake her. You guys want to come or hang back?"

"We'll wait here," Mel said simply.

At that, Bo nodded and quietly slipped out of the shed, leaving the four of them in the silence of the night.

Drawing her knees to her chest, Hild closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in slowly. The air of the shed was fresh, if a bit dusty, compared to that of underground.

The memory of the cell's putrid stench hitting them like a freight wagon still lingered with her. There was no telling what circumstances led to his current state; she perhaps wouldn't pity Jay if she knew what.

She hadn't a chance to look in the other rooms, but Raj was able to determine that a torture room had been in recent use. A heaviness formed in the pit of her stomach when Jay's account of the past week echoed in her mind.

She glanced at Caspar as he slowly paced by the door.

The details of Aaron's work, far more telling than Shan could ever intend, rushed to the front of her memory. The skin of his hands was dry and almost cracking, and he smelled strongly of lye. Hild knew obsessive over-washing when she saw it; she had formed the same habit when she started as a nurse.

Aaron washed away the evidence of his real work, hid his true nature from even his own family.

And he had the gall to rant about masks as he dared share a meal with the family of his most recent victim.

With his back now turned, she couldn't see Caspar's face. But the tension he held in his entire frame was palpable, and she could hear his mind spinning from worry.

He wouldn't find any comfort in knowing he was right, so Hild bit her tongue.

Bo eventually returned, after ten minutes. With a soft, weary smile and a nod toward the house, he beckoned everyone along.

They were welcomed inside by Adina, a young woman with a soft voice and warm, sleepy eyes. She was dressed in a long-sleeved gown, and her light curly hair seemed slightly mussed from sleep.

Hild, remembering the ungodly hour, thanked the young woman warmly, as did everyone else as they entered.

In her living room, Adina had three cots waiting for the men. Then she directed Mel and Hild onto a separate room with two actual beds.

Executions were expected to begin around 9 AM. That left them with only a few short hours to get some rest in order to beat sunrise at 5, devise a new plan, navigate the large city, then actually enact it.

Quickly losing steam, Hild's feet dragged a little as she walked. She fell back on top of the covers with an audible groan, and was asleep in seconds.

Sunlight.

Pouring in through the window unfiltered by clouds or curtains, it was blinding, and overwhelming, but the warmth was so enticing.

As if his skin were formerly encased in a layer of ice, James felt himself begin to thaw. Prickles of needles dotted his nerves as the warmth was magnified by the glass panes. The light came in slits through the barred windows, painting the whole bed in stripes.

At some point in his fitful almost-sleep, he'd rolled over on his back. His limbs still felt like they were burdened with heavy weights, and every joint, bone, and muscle ached with a new pain with the blessing of full consciousness. His mind was cloudier than he left it, and emptily, without a single coherent thought, he stared out through the window.

This was Nye's parting gift to him.

Anyone knew that sunny days in the late fall and winters in the Moonlight Kingdom were prolifically overcast and dreary. A day like this one was a patch of green in the desert. It was an oasis. A time for celebration about something so small.

Just the weather.

But that meant everyone would be out. The crowd for the execution would be fuller than normal, were it not already planned to be for this special occasion.

He supposed it didn't really matter, when all was said and done.

It would just be more strangers. Blank faces to him in a crowd where only his family mattered to him.

With the ghost of a pang in his chest, he tried to muster the energy to sit up. It took much longer than anticipated, but he finally sat upright on the bed, sliding his legs off the side.

He didn't know how long he sat like that before the door to the small room opened.

When he looked up into the face of Carter, he wasn't sure if he was awake, or if he was dreaming. Carter didn't move for a moment, and simply stood there, glinting in the light in his full suit of silver metal armor. His calculating eyes were fixed on James, like he was carefully observing him.

Then it occured to him that Carter might've been the after-effects assessing Aaron's work.

He'd been thorough, and it seemed Carter gathered as much. Whatever Carter was searching him for, he seemed satisfied. With a glance back into the hall, Carter stepped in, closing the door behind him. It clicked into place, and James merely stared at him, waiting for whatever monologue Carter had prepared for this likely long-awaited occasion.

"I thought I'd offer you some closure," Carter said quietly, still watching James with a searching gaze.

James didn't respond.

"In truth," Carter said. "I never did want this to happen. You may not believe me on that, but it remains the truth nonetheless."

He paused again, as if waiting for some kind of response to encourage him to go on, but James never offered it. Predictably, Carter took the silence as permission, and continued.

"The thing is," Carter said. "I made a mistake with you. One I made sure to never make again. I let you get too close, and if anyone learned what the Haddons had done to help you... it could cause a scandal. A mess I'd rather not have to clean up. And, well, you just have this uncanny way of stumbling into trouble on your own without any help from anyone else... you made it easy. When you ran off, though, well, you became a loose end. And you know I hate loose ends..."

Carter had started to lean his weight onto one leg but then straightened up, taking in a deep breath. If James didn't know better - and he did by now, though it was painfully ironic that it was too little too late - he might've thought Carter was being sincere. He might've thought that some part of Carter, if even only a sliver, felt some amount of pain of James being put to death. But he didn't imagine it was pain over losing a childhood friend. It was pain over Carter's own failure to accomplish his own agenda.

"I hope you know... I did love you, like you were my own brother," Carter said quietly.

"Is that what you told my mother?" James asked, looking up to meet Carter's gaze with hollow eyes.

Carter stared back, just as void of emotion.

His lack of response told James everything he needed to know.

Carter didn't even tell them himself. He sent one of his dogs to do it. Like he always did.

"I'd like to avoid any association with you and your family," Carter said plainly. "And with you out of the picture, it'll make my life a lot easier."

James huffed faintly through his nose and returned his eyes to the ground.

This wasn't closure. This was Carter congratulating himself for a job well-done.

He was gloating. Throwing salt into the wound. But it didn't work this time, because the wound had salt in it for years, by now.

"Goodbye, Carter," James said lowly.

Carter stayed put in front of the door for a moment, and then very slowly turned, as if to give James one last chance to say anything more.

But James didn't have anything to say to him. Not anymore.

For years, he constructed arguments in his mind. Drawn-out apologies, lists of questions. One-liners that he thought might crack Carter open like a geode, finally revealing something good inside. He'd thought that one day he would meet Carter again, and finally they could forgive and forget. He thought that maybe, they could forgive one another and reconcile, moving past the fallout that changed the trajectory of his whole life while Carter stayed in the Moonlight Kingdom, choosing his loyalty to the king over loyalty to cover a friend.

But in every scenario James had imagined where things ended in like-minded, heartfelt apologies, they were both changed men. They'd both grown, and softened, and learned.

And James felt he had changed. Whether it was all "for the better" was something he no longer cared to evaluate, now staring death in the face.

But Carter?

He was still the same. Just more careful. More intentional. But still just as manipulative and conniving as he last saw him, if not more so.

James wasn't eager to write people off as irredeemable, nor did he like to rescind second chances. But he felt justified (and realistic) in thinking that and attempts to change Carter's mind would be wasted breath.

Though, he supposed... regardless of Carter's inability to change, James could extend one last offering. Mostly for himself.

If he was going to leave this life and return to the dust, he might as well use his last few words meaningfully. So he decided to tell Carter the only thing he thought might be worthwhile.

Looking back up, he met Carter's eyes once again.

There was a haughty, knowing smile in Carter's eyes, like he'd expected James to save his last, most biting remarks for the end. So he could go out with a bang.

But James only looked back with eyes full of sadness, but sincere all the same.

"I forgive you, Carter," James said.

Even though he didn't deserve it.

The smile in Carter's eyes faded, and within seconds, James watched Carter flash the briefest look of bewilderment before his look turned piercing.

"Here I was," Carter said. "Thinking you wouldn't waste it."

And at that, he spun around and left the room. The door shut firmly behind him, and the lock clicked into place.

Left alone once more, James took in a deep breath, and released it in a deep sigh.

At least, now, he could pass with a cleaner conscience, knowing he didn't hold bitterness in his heart... only guilt and regret. Those two alone were heavy enough on their own.

Closing his eyes, he felt a strange sense of peace and acceptance settle in. Like he was finally really ready to go.

As if an answer to the conclusion he'd met in his heart, the door opened once more, but this time, it was two guards from the guild. They were there to be his escorts.

Dressed in the pitch black armored uniform of the guild, they led him down the hall like two tall shadows.

The hall was painfully long. Putting one foot in front of the other, James was only vaguely aware of other passing figures. Distant, blended voices in the background. When they hit open air, he was suddenly painfully aware of the cold. The air pierced through his thin layer of clothes, gripping his bones with the whispers of coming winter and coming death. Nearly tripping, he was yanked upright by the collar of his shirt and shoved forward as they walked down a narrow pathway, hedged in by a wall and a building.

In the back of James's mind, he felt this was a memory he'd lived before. Only on the other side of the picture, as the executioner. Like a dream, he imagined his footsteps falling into step with a younger, imaginary version of himself. With every mage that came before him, forced to walk the same path to the gallows.

His vision was blurring as his head started to cloud further. His body was moving on impulse, but he didn't feel like he was in it anymore.

Just before he moved to lift his foot to ascend a long staircase, the shadow on his left dissipated. Suddenly left unbalanced, James stumbled forward, fighting to right himself again.

Except he failed at doing so, and fell on his hands and knees.

And then the earth beneath him gave way, and he was swallowed up.

He didn't know if it was real.

Had his head been on the chopping block, and these were his last ten seconds of consciousness? Reliving the walk up the steps? And now he was going to his grave?

A pair of arms came around him, holding him close like a child as he was plunged into complete darkness, and all he could hear was the sound of rocks grinding together.

For what felt like an eternity, but could've been only moments, the experience lasted with no answers.

Then, a burst of light.

Blinded, James only saw white as faint, hushed whispers muddled together. At first, he thought it was because of the sun, but then, everything started to spin. Vision spotting, he tried to fight for consciousness, but the only result from his efforts was nausea.

Everything became very distant before it all went dark.Sunlight.

Pouring in through the window unfiltered by clouds or curtains, it was blinding, and overwhelming, but the warmth was so enticing.

As if his skin were formerly encased in a layer of ice, James felt himself begin to thaw. Prickles of needles dotted his nerves as the warmth was magnified by the glass panes. The light came in slits through the barred windows, painting the whole bed in stripes.

At some point in his fitful almost-sleep, he'd rolled over on his back. His limbs still felt like they were burdened with heavy weights, and every joint, bone, and muscle ached with a new pain with the blessing of full consciousness. His mind was cloudier than he left it, and emptily, without a single coherent thought, he stared out through the window.

This was Nye's parting gift to him.

Anyone knew that sunny days in the late fall and winters in the Moonlight Kingdom were prolifically overcast and dreary. A day like this one was a patch of green in the desert. It was an oasis. A time for celebration about something so small.

Just the weather.

But that meant everyone would be out. The crowd for the execution would be fuller than normal, were it not already planned to be for this special occasion.

He supposed it didn't really matter, when all was said and done.

It would just be more strangers. Blank faces to him in a crowd where only his family mattered to him.

With the ghost of a pang in his chest, he tried to muster the energy to sit up. It took much longer than anticipated, but he finally sat upright on the bed, sliding his legs off the side.

He didn't know how long he sat like that before the door to the small room opened.

When he looked up into the face of Carter, he wasn't sure if he was awake, or if he was dreaming. Carter didn't move for a moment, and simply stood there, glinting in the light in his full suit of silver metal armor. His calculating eyes were fixed on James, like he was carefully observing him.

Then it occured to him that Carter might've been the after-effects assessing Aaron's work.

He'd been thorough, and it seemed Carter gathered as much. Whatever Carter was searching him for, he seemed satisfied. With a glance back into the hall, Carter stepped in, closing the door behind him. It clicked into place, and James merely stared at him, waiting for whatever monologue Carter had prepared for this likely long-awaited occasion.

"I thought I'd offer you some closure," Carter said quietly, still watching James with a searching gaze.

James didn't respond.

"In truth," Carter said. "I never did want this to happen. You may not believe me on that, but it remains the truth nonetheless."

He paused again, as if waiting for some kind of response to encourage him to go on, but James never offered it. Predictably, Carter took the silence as permission, and continued.

"The thing is," Carter said. "I made a mistake with you. One I made sure to never make again. I let you get too close, and if anyone learned what the Haddons had done to help you... it could cause a scandal. A mess I'd rather not have to clean up. And, well, you just have this uncanny way of stumbling into trouble on your own without any help from anyone else... you made it easy. When you ran off, though, well, you became a loose end. And you know I hate loose ends..."

Carter had started to lean his weight onto one leg but then straightened up, taking in a deep breath. If James didn't know better - and he did by now, though it was painfully ironic that it was too little too late - he might've thought Carter was being sincere. He might've thought that some part of Carter, if even only a sliver, felt some amount of pain of James being put to death. But he didn't imagine it was pain over losing a childhood friend. It was pain over Carter's own failure to accomplish his own agenda.

"I hope you know... I did love you, like you were my own brother," Carter said quietly.

"Is that what you told my mother?" James asked, looking up to meet Carter's gaze with hollow eyes.

Carter stared back, just as void of emotion.

His lack of response told James everything he needed to know.

Carter didn't even tell them himself. He sent one of his dogs to do it. Like he always did.

"I'd like to avoid any association with you and your family," Carter said plainly. "And with you out of the picture, it'll make my life a lot easier."

James huffed faintly through his nose and returned his eyes to the ground.

This wasn't closure. This was Carter congratulating himself for a job well-done.

He was gloating. Throwing salt into the wound. But it didn't work this time, because the wound had salt in it for years, by now.

"Goodbye, Carter," James said lowly.

Carter stayed put in front of the door for a moment, and then very slowly turned, as if to give James one last chance to say anything more.

But James didn't have anything to say to him. Not anymore.

For years, he constructed arguments in his mind. Drawn-out apologies, lists of questions. One-liners that he thought might crack Carter open like a geode, finally revealing something good inside. He'd thought that one day he would meet Carter again, and finally they could forgive and forget. He thought that maybe, they could forgive one another and reconcile, moving past the fallout that changed the trajectory of his whole life while Carter stayed in the Moonlight Kingdom, choosing his loyalty to the king over loyalty to cover a friend.

But in every scenario James had imagined where things ended in like-minded, heartfelt apologies, they were both changed men. They'd both grown, and softened, and learned.

And James felt he had changed. Whether it was all "for the better" was something he no longer cared to evaluate, now staring death in the face.

But Carter?

He was still the same. Just more careful. More intentional. But still just as manipulative and conniving as he last saw him, if not more so.

James wasn't eager to write people off as irredeemable, nor did he like to rescind second chances. But he felt justified (and realistic) in thinking that and attempts to change Carter's mind would be wasted breath.

Though, he supposed... regardless of Carter's inability to change, James could extend one last offering. Mostly for himself.

If he was going to leave this life and return to the dust, he might as well use his last few words meaningfully. So he decided to tell Carter the only thing he thought might be worthwhile.

Looking back up, he met Carter's eyes once again.

There was a haughty, knowing smile in Carter's eyes, like he'd expected James to save his last, most biting remarks for the end. So he could go out with a bang.

But James only looked back with eyes full of sadness, but sincere all the same.

"I forgive you, Carter," James said.

Even though he didn't deserve it.

The smile in Carter's eyes faded, and within seconds, James watched Carter flash the briefest look of bewilderment before his look turned piercing.

"Here I was," Carter said. "Thinking you wouldn't waste it."

And at that, he spun around and left the room. The door shut firmly behind him, and the lock clicked into place.

Left alone once more, James took in a deep breath, and released it in a deep sigh.

At least, now, he could pass with a cleaner conscience, knowing he didn't hold bitterness in his heart... only guilt and regret. Those two alone were heavy enough on their own.

Closing his eyes, he felt a strange sense of peace and acceptance settle in. Like he was finally really ready to go.

As if an answer to the conclusion he'd met in his heart, the door opened once more, but this time, it was two guards from the guild. They were there to be his escorts.

Dressed in the pitch black armored uniform of the guild, they led him down the hall like two tall shadows.

The hall was painfully long. Putting one foot in front of the other, James was only vaguely aware of other passing figures. Distant, blended voices in the background. When they hit open air, he was suddenly painfully aware of the cold. The air pierced through his thin layer of clothes, gripping his bones with the whispers of coming winter and coming death. Nearly tripping, he was yanked upright by the collar of his shirt and shoved forward as they walked down a narrow pathway, hedged in by a wall and a building.

In the back of James's mind, he felt this was a memory he'd lived before. Only on the other side of the picture, as the executioner. Like a dream, he imagined his footsteps falling into step with a younger, imaginary version of himself. With every mage that came before him, forced to walk the same path to the gallows.

His vision was blurring as his head started to cloud further. His body was moving on impulse, but he didn't feel like he was in it anymore.

Just before he moved to lift his foot to ascend a long staircase, the shadow on his left dissipated. Suddenly left unbalanced, James stumbled forward, fighting to right himself again.

Except he failed at doing so, and fell on his hands and knees.

And then the earth beneath him gave way, and he was swallowed up.

He didn't know if it was real.

Had his head been on the chopping block, and these were his last ten seconds of consciousness? Reliving the walk up the steps? And now he was going to his grave?

A pair of arms came around him, holding him close like a child as he was plunged into complete darkness, and all he could hear was the sound of rocks grinding together.

For what felt like an eternity, but could've been only moments, the experience lasted with no answers.

Then, a burst of light.

Blinded, James only saw white as faint, hushed whispers muddled together. At first, he thought it was because of the sun, but then, everything started to spin. Vision spotting, he tried to fight for consciousness, but the only result from his efforts was nausea.

Everything became very distant before it all went dark.

Caspar didn't sleep. The few hours everyone else used to rest dragged on. Then it felt like no time had passed at all once they all reconvened at dawn.

They determined that the fewer people who went in to grab James, the better. Raj and Bo, already well-acquainted with the execution walk from previous rescues, were the obvious choices. Hild, Mel, and Caspar were to hang back at Adina's.

Hild and Mel prepped supplies from the shed for emergency care, anticipating the worst while praying for the best. Caspar assisted Adina with making sufficient space in the back of her wagon for both fresh produce and hidden passengers.

Once everything felt set up, all they had to do was wait.

Caspar paced. Clenched his trembling hands, then released the tension. It did nothing for the pressure still pushing in on his lungs.

Try as he might to keep his eyes forward and his mind steady, he couldn't help but start to really wonder now if they were too late.

What if executions had begun earlier than expected? James could already be gone. Another another coffin in the winter thicket because of Caspar's shortcomings.

What if that was delayed? Then Bo and Raj could unwittingly walk themselves into a noose. The thought of possibly losing them too weighed heavily on him.

What about the night before? The palace had to be doubling their defenses since the infiltration. They had to know that they were contending with an earth mage, and the guild consequently could be on high alert as well, waiting even.

What then? Where would this leave the rest of them? All this biding time and careful planning, just to keeping losing. All these "what if's" felt like an anchor dragging him underwater, drowning him in fear and guilt.

"So," Adina's voice, though soft and mild-mannered, managed to abruptly cut in through his thoughts, "first time smuggling humans?"

Looking up to him with an innocent grin, she folded her arms and looked to him expectantly.

Caspar blinked. Stress lingered in his hands, and he hid them in his pockets as he mumbled, "Um, yesh."

"Good thing you're working with an expert, then," Adina said with a cheery smile. "So long as you guys stay quiet we should be just fine."

Caspar mustered a slight smile. "I can manage that."

"We'll have to pass through at least one checkpoint since we're going by wagon, but it'll be a lot easier for everyone this way. For Raj, in particular. Earth mages carry so much weight. Often literally."

It took a second, but once the last bit registered, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

Adina joined him with a soft, quiet laugh.

"Are you flexible?" she asked.

Shuffling in place, Caspar shrugged. "I, um. Not sure, actually."

"No punchline, here," Adina said. "It just makes hiding in small spaces easier if you can, you know... bend."

She raised her arms over her head, angling her hands and elbows sharply inward around her head in demonstration.

Caspar nodded slowly. "Yeah, no. Not very...bendy."

"You're more of a solid than a liquid," Adina said with a nod.

Ducking his head, he tapped a toe to one of the wagon wheels. "I'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you will," Adina agreed softly, looking out towards the wagon pulled into the fenced area behind her home. Tilting her head, she peered down at the base of the wagon like something had caught her attention.

For a moment, there was nothing there. But three seconds later, the earth just beside the wagon wheel opened up, like a gopher's mound, and Raj came leaping out, breathing heavy.

He took a few paces, catching his breath, and then Caspar could see the top of Bo's head coming up slowly.

Caspar wasn't sure to go help or simply stand out of the way. All thoughts or questions ground to a complete halt, though, when Bo fully stepped out with James held firmly in his arms.

Though physically waning and ill-looking and terribly under dressed for the biting cold, James was there. Actually physically there, breathing, intact, and alive.

The relief that crashed over Caspar knocked the air out of his lungs, and nearly knocked him off his feet.

Inhaling sharply and steeling himself for the next phase of their exit plan, Caspar climbed into the wagon to help settle James in the back. Then he stepped away (as much as he could within the limited space) to let Mel and Hild assess the damage.

Mel worked to heal what she could. Hild quickly patched up the rest.

Raj and Bo climbed into the back once they were finished. Before joining Adina to make room for everyone else, Hild let her hands gently linger on James's shoulder for a moment. Then, shaking away her visible concern as she covered him with a couple of blankets, she took her seat up front.

Everyone in back puzzled themselves in between the crates of produce and hunkered down. Adina snapped the reins, and the wagon started forward.

Caspar trained his eyes on the canvas covering overhead. Through the smallest of cracks where the canvas met the side of the wagon, he caught glimpses of houses as they passed.

Then he found himself simply unable to not look at James, and cast frequent glances to the side. Just to assure himself that this was real.

For all the nights Caspar couldn't sleep the past month, and despite every time he faced doubt in the form of his friend's corpse in that damn coffin in the thicket of his mind, they did it. They weren't in the clear yet, and they had a ways to go once they were, but James was still alive and with them again. And that helped lift a terrible, crushing weight, a month's worth of stress and remorse, from Caspar's chest.

The morning brightened as they traveled. The streets around them filled with the usual noise of a busy city. The cobblestones made for a somewhat bumpy ride.

The wagon was unassuming, and they'd put distance between themselves and the palace and guild. But there was still a lingering risk of getting pulled aside by the wrong person.

Adina and Hild carried light, natural conversation, skillfully playing the parts of cousins visiting and catching up after some time apart. Everyone else remained completely silent.

They eventually slowed to a stop. Peeking in under one side of the canvas cover, Hild silently waved them along.

Caspar waited a moment until everyone else stepped out. He stretched out the tightness from his legs, and pried himself out of a narrow corner by the carrots. Then he helped ease James down into Bo's arms.

Hopping out behind everyone else, Caspar looked up and around.

Adina had stopped the wagon in front of a gap between buildings, effectively blocking them from view as they filed out.

Raj quietly knocked on a side door. Laura was quick to answer and ushered them inside. Caspar glanced back as Adina's wagon slowly pulled away, then closed the door behind himself.

With a warm but hasty greeting, Kaleb locked the door and followed at the back of the group by Caspar. Bo in front quickly updated the couple as they all hurried to the study.

Kaleb rolled back the floor rug. Caspar lifted the trapdoor, and dropped in first for Bo to pass James down.

Now, stepping out of the way with James secure in his arms, Caspar was struck for a moment by how much lighter he was than he remembered.

He didn't have another moment to linger on it when Raj took the lead down the shaft.

A ways down, Raj opened up the wall. With his hands now free, Bo kept the tunnel lit with a controlled sphere of sparks at his fingertips.

With the walls visible, the tunnel felt tighter than last time.

Carefully adjusting his grasp on James, Caspar focused on Bo's back ahead of him. He kept his breathing steady and deliberate, counting his steps as they hastened.

Daylight broke ahead of them with a fresh, wintry gust. They stepped out deep in the trees, farther away from the city walls than when they entered.

Caspar held James closer, trying to shield him from the cold.

Soon enough, Robin came up alongside them in wolf form.

"That him?" Robin asked as he trotted up to Caspar, craning his neck to sniff.

"Yeah," Caspar answered, fainter than intended, "it's him."

Robin sniffed a few more times before shifting into human form, and with the added height (though it admittedly wasn't that much), looked at the face peeking out from the bundle of blankets in Caspar's arms.

He hummed.

"He looks terrible," Robin said.

Well, he wasn't wrong.

With a slight shrug, Caspar just nodded.

"Probably feels it too," Robin muttered before turning away, shifting back into his wolven form. He walked ahead, leading the group back from the front.

The bunker entrance came into sight. Sitting beside it on a tree stump, bundled up in coat and hat, Lilya swung her legs idly as she waited. When she caught sight of them, she leapt up to stand on her toes and waved to them through the trees.

Bo had only just started to wave back when she hopped down and disappeared into the bunker, delightedly declaring their return.

They'd unpacked Rusty's wagon minimally, prepared to hightail it as quickly as possible once they got back. Even loaded up with everything they had, there was ample room to set up James in the back.

With instructions for Caspar to wait, Hild dashed off into the bunker.

While Caspar obliged and stood patiently by the wagon, Elliot suddenly rushed around it to greet them. Sticking his nose in Caspar's face, he turned his attention down to James, trying to nudge him.

"Easy, bud," Caspar murmured as he took a step back. "He'll say hi when he's a little better."

Elliot hesitated for a moment and then came close again, but slower. He attempted to stick his face close to James again.

Adjusting his hold on James, Caspar brushed his hand to Elliot's nose.

"I know," Caspar said gently, "but we have to wait, alright?"

Elliot nudged Caspar's hand, but there was less energy in it. Resting his head against Caspar's side, Elliot stayed still.

With blankets and a pillow piled high in her arms, Hild rushed back and prepared a space in the wagon. Then she prepped Elliot for travel while Caspar carefully laid James down on some of the blankets, and covered him with the rest.

Caspar had just stepped down again when Lyall practically threw himself at him. The force of the embrace nearly knocked him off balance. Huffing a laugh, he held Lyall tightly in turn.

"Miss me?" Caspar said, and ruffled his hair.

Lyall stepped back with a playful huff and swat of his hand. "Not one bit."

With a laugh, Caspar patted his shoulder.

Lyall loaded up his kids and a dufflebag, then sat by James to look him over while Mel got him caught up to speed.

With everyone ready within minutes, the bunker sealed itself shut.

They started through the tall pines. King's Peak still loomed behind them, gradually growing smaller as they steadily put distance between them and the city.

Pretty much all of them were all exhausted, but they were determined to travel while they still had plenty of daylight.

The crisp blue of the sky eventually turned an alarming shade of orange, and the evergreen of the trees into a deep teal with the evening. They pushed on until dusk.

With the dry logs that they stored ahead of time in the wagon, and a few sparks from Bo's hands, they were able to get a fire going fairly quickly in the dark.

As soon as the barest camp essentials were set up, Raj lied down and was out like a light. Mel and Hild were also asleep very soon after. Bo only settled down for the night once he, Lyall, and Robin had agreed on a night watch rotation between the three of them.

Lyall stayed up for the first shift. He spent some of that time trying to settle his excited kids, but it was for the most part silent once Cy and Lilya finally gave in to sleep.

With Eir warmly settled alongside him, Caspar lied awake, watching the smoke from the fire waft up to the stars. Between the pine boughs, he found the archer's arrow. He followed it to the hound's tail, and to the rest of the constellations that followed in an endless, circling story in the sky.

A faint thump was heard in the wagon behind him, followed by the shuffling of blankets.

To keep from startling Eir, Caspar slowly pushed himself to his feet, then quickly stepped around to the back of the wagon to ensure nothing was wrong.

James was awake.

He'd thrown off his blankets around him, like he'd dug himself out. He laid on his side, curled tightly in the fetal position apart from one arm that stuck out, grasping at the blankets around him.

Caspar couldn't be too sure, actually, that James was entirely present.

"James?" Caspar called, voice just above a whisper.

James didn't move at first. After several long seconds, he slowly uncurled from himself and attempted to roll over, propping himself up on his hands and knees. Caspar could see James's frame visibly trembling with the movement, and just as James looked balanced, one of his arms gave out, and he fell face-down into the blankets with a grunt.

"Oop-- No, that's fine," Caspar murmured hastily, "I'm coming to you."

James rolled onto his side, and as Caspar drew nearer, he could hear James's rapid, labored breath.

"Take it easy, bud," Caspar said gently. He knelt down, keeping three feet of space between them. "This is...probably very disorienting, to say the least."

James didn't seem to notice Caspar's arrival. His attention was turned to his hands. Grasping at his wrists, he seemed to be feeling for something that wasn't there. The frantic searching of his own person continued as he started to practically pat himself down, ending up in a ball once more when he reached his feet.

Easing himself back against the side of the wagon, Caspar now waited quietly.

James didn't seem to be moving from his position. Curled up tight, he started to shiver.

Leaning forward, Caspar pulled the blankets back over James.

"It's a little cold around these parts," Caspar said, idly as he lingered close by. He shrugged. "Understatement. And. Well, I mean, you'd know anyhow."

James pulled the blankets in closer, and his eyes looked lost even as they landed on Caspar.

Caspar grew rather concerned at his lost expression, then it hit him.

"Right," he said as he reached sideways for one of the crates, "of course."

Hild had set James's glasses aside in the wagon for when he woke. He ought to have them back now, they could potentially help.

"Are you warm enough?" Caspar asked as he held out the folded glasses to James.

"You're dead," James said faintly, his voice weak. "You're... I'm not..."

He pulled the blankets around him tighter, eyes barely focused in Caspar's direction.

Biting his lip, Caspar absently fiddled with the glasses.

"I'm okay," he eventually, mustering a small, close-lipped smile. "And just as surprised about it, honestly."

"I watched you die," James whispered.

There was a sharp pang in Caspar's chest as the memory of that moment echoed in the back of his mind.

"I know," he murmured, "and...I hate that you had to go through that."

He hated that Carter had put him through that, actually found himself hating Carter, and then, perhaps irrationally, hated himself for being the cause of that hurt.

Tentatively, Caspar reached out and rested his hand on James's shoulder. He could feel James tense up, so he withdrew.

"I'm here now, though," Caspar went on firmly. "And you'll get better, and. It'll get better, we'll be okay."

James was still for a moment, with his eyebrows furrowed. Blankly, he seemed to be looking through Caspar, not at him. Then, throwing the blankets off once more, he grunted as he pushed himself upright and reached out to Caspar, grabbing Caspar's wrist. His grip was insistent but weak as he tugged Caspar closer.

"Whoa--" Caspar started, bewildered.

Hovering his free hand over James's arm, he scanned him for any signs of something wrong. James patted his hand up Caspar's arm, as if he was testing to see if Caspar was real. He muttered something unintelligible, and reached up to Caspar's face, poking at it as if he expected it to give. Obviously, it didn't.

Caspar felt his own brows furrow, but was otherwise still during the strange search.

"If you want to be up, that's fine," he said quietly, "I'm just going to have to insist that you put on a coat or something."

"Coat?" James echoed, as if the word was foreign or something. He pulled away from Caspar and turned his attention down to himself, as if he'd only just become aware of his current condition. He ended up rubbing his wrists again, like it was still sinking in that he was free.

"Yeah. I'll just grab you something," Caspar said, and carefully stepped around James to dig through their packed things.

He briefly caught Lyall's concerned gaze at the other side of the fire. Caspar gave him a small wave by way of reassurance. Lyall gestured with both arms toward the wagon in further question. With another, placating wave, Caspar tried mouthing, "We're fine."

Determined, Lyall moved to stand. Vehemently, Caspar waved him off.

Though Caspar felt it sent a fairly clear message, none of the emphatic arm waving seemed to deter him.

As Lyall picked his way through camp, Caspar turned back toward James with a very small sigh of resignation.

It made sense, really, that Lyall would insist. Probably a doctor thing.

"Where am I?" James whispered as he hugged himself, starting to shiver again.

Digging through one of the boxes, Caspar grabbed a warm-looking coat and draped it around James's shoulders.

"In the woods," Caspar answered softly. He sat down in front of James again and shrugged. "I know, what's new. We're a distance away from King's Peak, but were hoping to get going again by dawn."

"I'm... I'm not..." James trailed off, like he was struggling for words. "I'm lucid?"

"You seem it," Caspar said, softer. "Pretty alert right now, and I don't think you were, um..." He scratched behind his ear. "...put on anything before we got you."

James was quiet for a moment, and then slowly shifted, slipping his arms into the sleeves of the coat.

"Did you see Carter?" James asked faintly.

Caspar shook his head. "No, not that I'm aware of--"

"He shouldn't have," Hild cut in as she climbed up and peeked in over the side of the wagon. "Since we left Caspar in a shed."

James looked up in Hild's direction, and though it was clear he couldn't really see her, there was a spot of clarity as realization seemed to sink in.

"Hild," he said, his voice wavering. He then looked in Caspar's direction, seeming more urgent as his shallow breaths sped up. "Cas..."

Picking up the glasses again, Caspar murmured, "Hold still, bud," and slowly set them on James's face.

As the glasses settled on his ears and nose, James blinked a few times and squinted out as his eyes adjusted. Finally looking up to Caspar and actually meeting his eyes, James's expression softened into one of desperate relief.

"You really survived?" he asked in a whisper.

Caspar smiled. Warmth swelled in his chest now that James was truly looking at him.

"With a lot of help," he answered. With a shrug, he added, "Had a promise to keep."

James stared at him for a moment, and then let out a shaky sigh, shoulders sagging. He leaned forward - which turned into almost falling forward, and Caspar's hands instinctively shot up and steadied him by his shoulders. James seemed like he gave a weak attempt to hold himself back up again, but ended up leaning heavily into Caspar's arms.

"You could use some rest," Caspar said as he carefully wrapped his arms around James in a loose embrace. "We're okay."

James, burying his face in Caspar's chest, weakly reached out with one arm around Caspar's side, partially returning the hug.

Settling back, a month's worth of fear and anxiety pushing in on Caspar's lungs finally let up. He could breathe again, and he actually felt at rest.

James was here, he kept telling himself. James was here and safe and they were all going to be okay.

And Caspar couldn't help but hold him a little tighter as he softly repeated, "We're okay."

His whole body ached. That was the first waking sensation he became aware of. The next was warmth - something that had been foreign to him for some time, but now smothered him.

He found himself drifting into consciousness, like a leaf lazily floating down the river. He thought he heard the scraping of metal on stone, but it felt distant, like a dream. Still, he found himself pushing himself into wakefulness, as anticipation started to build in his chest. Pulling against the restraints, his hands flew forward, suddenly free. The forward motion surprised him so much that his eyes shot open, and he stared up at the open sky, breathing rapidly as he dropped his hands back at his sides.

He was buried in blankets.

Turning his head, he took everything in.

He was on a wooden surface. In the back of a wagon, it looked like. There were some boxes and bags at his feet and on the side, and his back and shoulders were propped up by something soft. Presumably a pillow.

Looking up again, he saw a silhouette perched atop one of the crates. Frizzy hair. Legs crossed as she faced him. He could make out just enough of her face to recognize her.

Breaths still rapid and anxious, he sank into the blankets, but kept his eyes on Hild.

His memory lagged, and it look a drawn-out few seconds for it to come trickling back to him.

Caspar was alive. Hild and Caspar... and others... had saved him. They were in the woods. King's Peak was behind them. They never answered how, but he didn't know how to even ask about the how.

Last he could remember, before he woke up in the wagon, he was walking to his death. The ground had swallowed him up before he made it to the stairs, and he only realized now that that might've been Raj's work, bending the earth to his will.

James tried to get his bearings.

He could still feel the phantom sensation of metal locked against his wrists, his ankles. Even though his skin had been scrubbed clean, he still felt a lingering grime. A layer that wouldn't go away.

He was afraid to look under the blankets and see what had become of himself now.

Chest tightening, he drew his hands up to his neck, pulling the blanket up to shield himself against the cold air of the night. Eyes still fixed on Hild's shadow, he tried to order his thoughts enough to say something coherent.

"Hild?" he started, not even sure if her attention was turned his way.

"Good morning," Hild replied, voice quiet but warm. "Your glasses are to your right."

Turning, James saw an indent in the blankets, and a small reflection. Reaching out, he felt around for a moment before he found them and slipped them on. When he looked to Hild again, he could see her a little more clearly.

She studied him for a moment. Then she silently offered the faintest of grins when their eyes met, and her searching gaze softened.

"I missed you," James said quietly.

Hild smiled. Slipping down from the crate, she settled closer by and replied earnestly, "I missed you too."

James turned his head to follow her with his eyes. He still felt like all of his energy was sapped from him, and he leaned heavily back on the pillow. But he wished to move closer.

"Where are the others?" he asked. "From the base? Your brother?"

"Maisy and Elrick took Leah, Jordan, Masil, and Raya another direction, somewhere safer," Hild explained, keeping her voice low. "My brother and the rest are here with us."

James let it sink in for a moment as he did the math, realizing just how large the rescue party was.

"Even the girls?" James asked.

Hild nodded once. "Cy and Lilya stayed with my brother and Robin outside of the city, though. They were kept as far away from immediate danger as possible."

"And everyone... made it out?" James asked more hesitantly.

She offered a reassuring smile and said, "Yes. We're all here. Now the goal is to cover as much as ground as quickly as we can, keep putting distance between ourselves and the capital."

James went quiet at the thought.

Though he was glad to be out, it still hadn't quite settled in that he was safe. His mind returned to Carter, and the day he'd come to tell James that he was going to be publicly put to death. Having only been narrowly rescued from that fate, he could only imagine the confusion that followed his disappearance, and Carter's stewing rage. Worry flooded in as he pictured his family in the crowd - only as vague estimations of what their older selves looked liked - having been told he was set to die, only for him not to show.

That was, if Carter had truly followed through on what he said he'd do, and told his family.

There was something dreadful, and painful, and unsettling at the thought that he'd so narrowly missed the opportunity to see his family again, regardless of the context being from a platform, with a rope around his neck. He didn't know if he was relieved or saddened. The emotion that arose was a messy amalgamation of regret, guilt, and something else he didn't know how to identify. But it nagged at him.

Right. James meant to say it out loud, to finally say something in response, but the word got caught behind his lips, and he found himself struggling for words.

Tilting her head, Hild studied him again. She glanced off, as though carried off for a moment by her own train of thought, then back at him with a tinge of worry after the drawn-out silence.

"We..." she started, then stopped short as she also seemed at a loss for words. Turning her finger in her palm, Hild finished, lamely, "We have water. You likey need some water."

James hummed faintly. When was the last time he had water?

"Okay," he said, barely audible.

Hild quickly and quietly picked through their things until she found a canteen. She helped him into a slightly more upright position and held out the uncapped bottle toward him. Taking the bottle for himself, he started to drink, only then realizing just how thirsty he was.

Drinking at a steady pace, James eagerly downed a significant amount of water before he finally pulled the bottle away. He rested the bottle on his chest and let out a small sigh.

"Thanks," he said softly.

Hild inclined her head with a slight smile. "Of course."

Looking him over again, she quietly asked, "When was the last time you ate?"

James drew his brows together as he seriously tried to come up with an answer.

"I'm not sure," he said vaguely. "I don't know... exactly how much time has passed."

Hild nodded and murmured, "You should take reintroduction to a regular diet slow, then."

"I'm not even hungry," James admitted. Though it wasn't a foreign feeling - being past the point of hunger.

Something akin to deep concern flashed in her eyes before she replied, "Very well. Later, then. Eventually."

"I-- I will eat," James said quickly. "I'll try to."

Though his stomach might beg to differ, he knew he had to try.

Hild flashed a small smile as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

"I'm sure you will," she said gently with understanding.

James looked up at Hild, quietly taking a moment to study her face. He could see the lines of weariness, and the way she kept pushing back the look of worry in her eyes, but he was just so happy to see her again. He thought he never would.

Hild's gaze went from assessing to simply and utterly relieved. She let her fingers brush his cheek before dropping her hand to lap again.

"You're really here," she whispered, almost in disbelief, as her smile turned shaky.

Reaching his hand out of the blankets, James found her hand in her lap and gently interlocked his fingers with hers.

"I'm not sure it's sunk in yet for me either," he whispered back.

Hild settled close beside him. "It'll just take a minute."

James nodded, just enough for it to be noticeable, but even the simple movement was tiring. He looked up and met Hild's eyes, mustering up just enough energy to give her hand a squeeze.

"I think it's going to be a while," he said, barely audible. "Until I'm... until I can..."

He wanted to say 'back to normal again.' But it felt like the standard for 'normal' had changed. In fact, he wasn't sure what 'normal' was, for him, and if he'd ever feel 'normal' again.

There was a pang of doubt in the back of his mind as he wondered... would Hild still want him? If he was never quite the same?

"You'll need time," Hild agreed softly.

James wanted to nod, or do something to show her heard her, but even briefly entertaining the thought of Hild growing tired of him because of how it changed him drained even more energy from his frame.

He knew they'd done everything in their power to get him back. To save Caspar, and save him. They didn't have to save James. Bo, Mel, Raj, Robin, Lyall... they all had other people to care for, and dozens of other responsibilites that were bigger than rescuing a criminal - who didn't even have anything to offer in return- from a high security dungeon, and ultimately death.

It didn't surprise him that Caspar and Hild came, or that it was their desire to do so. He was only surprised that they'd all managed to succeed at all.

How much trouble had Bo gotten himself in for pulling one magic-less man out of trouble, when dozens of others still went to the gallows that day? What consequences would it bear for the network of mages in hiding? How much had the rescue made the network known to the mage hunters? To the kingdom? How much did it put the mages in danger, just by virtue of knowing there were people like Bo and Raj out there?

The burden that James brought, regardless of what anyone might say about the matter, was weighty. It had been over five years since he served in the kingdom, but he knew well that it was very risky for any of them to go within King's Peak's walls.

Just so he could be with Caspar and Hild again.

He couldn't help but fear it wasn't a worthwhile reward.

Blinking slowly, James realized he once again drifted, getting lost in thought again and leaving Hild in the silence of abandoned conversation.

He looked up again at her, trying to give her more focused attention.

"How are you... since I last saw you?" he asked quietly.

Looking up at her, he longed to reach up and brush her face with the tips of his fingers in like kind. He wondered if he could forcefully muster the strength to try.

"I... am alright, all things considered," she answered, and put on a reassuring smile.

"Is that your honest response?" James asked softly.

He didn't want her to feel she had to gloss over the truth just because he wasn't doing well - a likely painfully obvious, unavoidable truth on his part.

Hild tilted her head a little and relented, "Mostly tired."

"Did you sleep?" James asked.

"I did," Hild answered simply.

"Enough?"

She pursed her lips. "To function, yes."

So no, then. James knew well what it meant to "sleep just enough to function." He could "function," but hardly felt like he was fully functioning at all.

Still looking up at her, he decided to push against the desires of his body to stay still. With a slow, deep breath, he reached up with his free hand. Slow, and deliberate, he gently cupped the side of Hild's face and brushed a stray hair to the side with his thumb.

He'd meant to say something.

But with her face in his hand, his mind went blank, and he only gazed up at her with a tender, compassionate affection.

Though she hadn't said it directly, he knew the past weeks had to have been exhausting for her in every sense of the word.

When his hand brushed over her cheek, her composure finally cracked. Her shoulders dipped under the weight of that exhaustion. But her eyes sparkled with complete and utter elation as she held his gaze, and she rested her hand over his.

"I thought I'd never get to say goodbye," James whispered. "I'm glad that I don't have to."

Hild smiled at him, bright and unbridled. James couldn't help but smile in return, but his smile was so small and weary in comparison.

"Gods, I missed you," she murmured, voice breaking.

James's heart ached, hearing her voice waver. He brushed over her cheek lightly with his thumb.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You know me. I'm tougher than I look. It takes a lot more than a vengeful soldier to take me down."

She hummed a warm laugh.

"Never doubted you for a moment," Hild said, mustering some brevity. Her eyes were sincere, though; she fully meant it.

James felt his small smile falter.

While Hild never doubted, James had believed it all to be over the moment he was caught and drugged beyond comprehension. Ashamedly, he realized he hadn't even considered the possibility of anyone coming to rescue him from the fate he believed inevitable.

He brushed her cheek once more, but felt the strength of his arm waning.

The muscle atrophy of being nearly immobile for near a month should've been unsettling, but he - however morbid - was familiar with the sensation.

"One of these days," he said just above a whisper. "I'll have the strength to dance with you again. And I'll spin you, and sweep you off your feet all over again."

Hild gently squeezed his hand before carefully setting it down at his side.

"I look forward to it, Mr. Hawke," she answered, tone playfully formal as she tilted her chin up a little.

"As do I," James said, tone still weary but playful as well. "Miss Ashlund."

Though he could feel hid eyelids beginning to grow heavy, he felt the smallest bit of heat rise to his cheeks.

Hild gazed at him warmly. Then her attention was drawn to the back of the wagon when a little head poked up.

"Morning!" Lilya whispered brightly with a wide smile.

Without wasting another second, she clambered up with an exaggerated grunt and crawled closer.

"We're gonna leave pretty soon," Lilya said as she lied down next to James. "But only when everyone's awake. Not you, though. Papa and Aunty Mel say you'll need a lot of sleep, which you can do here. I'll be in here too, but I promise I'll be very quiet when you nap."

Eyes brightening a little, James offered Lilya the slightest, sleepy smile.

"Thanks, Lilya," he said. "I appreciate it."

Lilya beamed. "You're welcome!"

Turning onto her side, she reached as far over as she could and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Hild grinned as she watched with fondness in her eyes.

"Papa's still asleep right now," Lilya went on, "but he doesn't need it as much, so I think I'll wake him up in...five minutes."

"I think it's alright to let your father sleep," James said. "I'm sure the others will be sleeping in too, so he might as well get more rest. It can never hurt."

Settling on her back again, Lilya folded her hands with a most serious expression. "But we could be leaving in five minutes."

"We're leaving in thirty minutes. Wake him then," Hild proposed. With a mischevious spark in her eyes, she added, "With a running start."

"Oh, that's..." James said quietly, but hesitated, and decided not to interfere. With a sigh, he leaned his head back further in the pillow. Instead of finishing his sentence, he just slowly rubbed the back of Hild's hand with his thumb, still holding it at his side.

"It's okay," Lilya said reassuringly, "I do it a lot, and I'm careful."

"That's good," James said softly.

"You look sleepy," Lilya added in a whisper.

"Oh?" James said. "Thanks for noticing."

"You're welcome," Lilya said simply.

"You look very awake," James commented, trying to muster a smile, but his face didn't move.

"I'm very awake," Lilya chirped with an emphatic nod.

"Maybe I'll wake up more simply by virtue of being around you," James said.

Hild hummed a laugh at this. "Children tend to have that effect."

"I hope it's contagious," James said, turning to look to Hild again. He hoped she could at least see the smile in his eyes.

She smiled gently back at him, and enveloped his hand in both of hers.

"But I'm not sick," Lilya said, sounding deeply confused.

James turned to look at Lilya, feeling a pang of empathy.

"I meant to say that I hope your energy is contagious in the same way sickness can be, but not in a negative way," he tried to explain.

Lilya blinked. Then her eyes lit up with understanding, and her mouth formed a little 'o'.

"You mean like Uncle Robin and Aunty Mel?" she asked.

She didn't wait for response before lightly patting her hand to his forehead.

James raised his eyebrows, but didn't object to the touch. Clearly, Lilya was convinced James meant she might have healing magic, and it was endearing (and frankly adorable) that she felt compelled to immediately try it out to make him feel better.

Lilya pouted when there was no visible effect. She folded her hands together over her stomach. "I'll try again later."

"I'm not opposed to it," James offered.

Lilya's face brightened, and she abruptly asked, "Has it been thirty minutes?"

"Only four," Hild supplied, but Lilya was already up and scooting down the wagon's length.

James stared as she moved alarmingly fast, and by the time he managed to stutter "Wait--" she was gone from sight.

Mere moments later, he heard Lyall grunt with pain, then faintly whine, "Why meee..."

James frowned, looking towards the sound of Lyall's voice.

"I hope he's alright," he whispered, more to himself.

Hild gently pat his hand and murmured, "He's fine."

He rubbed his thumb back and forth on the back of her hand again, absently.

He found his head was clouding up again. With wakefulness brought the eventual seeping in of every pained sensation, and it was like it was all slowly creeping back up to him.

And now with at least the most pressing questions answered, there was no adrenaline rush from worry or confusion to keep him alert like before.

He imagined his frown deepening, but he didn't feel like it actually did.

Eyes half open, he fought to stay awake. Looking up at Hild, his weary eyes locked onto her, and he found himself studying her face once more. But what started as quiet admiration slowly turned to fuzzy daydreaming when he realized, at some point, he had closed his eyes.

Forcing them open again, he opened his eyes into little slits, just enough to see Hild above him.

He could still feel her hand in his, and maybe it was just the fact that he'd been so deprived of safety and care - but suddenly all he wanted was to hold her in his arms and be held by hers in return.

But the feeling started to fade along with his consciousness, and the last thing he could remember before he fell asleep was her eyes.

When he woke to the cold pines overhead, Caspar jolted upright with a sharp pang of panic in his chest. He felt lost, in the wilds. Everything ached from carrying the weight of his kid, and his shoulder sore from burying him.

Breath unsteady and brows knitting together, he quickly realized that wasn't quite right. Eir curled up beside him and nudging his face confirmed that. Lilya throwing her arms around his neck in a hug as she bid him good morning brought him closer to speed. Raj extending a quiet greeting as he tiredly pushed himself to his feet brought the events of King's Peak back in full.

With Lilya still clinging to his back, Caspar stood and peered into the wagon beside him.

James was asleep with Hild quietly settled next to him, their hands entwined.

Caspar stepped away after softly exchanging 'good morning's with Hild, and joined everyone else by the re-ignited fire for a quick breakfast.

With a bowl of hot oatmeal, Lyall sat beside him. Lilya took this as invitation to then clamber all over her father. Huffing a laugh, Caspar plucked the girl from Lyall's shoulders and set her between them with a blank page in his sketchbook and a pencil.

They were mostly quiet while they both ate. Lyall effortlessly jumped into a few conversations around them every once in a while. Caspar was content to listen and watch as Lilya filled the page with loops and scribbles.

Casting frequent glances Caspar's way and bouncing a leg, Lyall looked like he wanted to say something. Caspar couldn't find the energy (or want) to invite serious conversation yet, so he didn't. Just kept his head down, and his focus turned to Lilya's page.

When prompted for assistance, Caspar reached around her and, forcing his own hand to stay steady, gently guided her hand to draw a complete circle in the middle.

With a bright smile, Lilya then held the book up in Lyall's face, declaring the loops and scribbles were collectively a drawing of him. Lyall, initially biting back a laugh, thanked her for the very flattering representation.

After breakfast, they broke camp.

Caspar lingered on Lilya's page for a moment. He then flipped back, finding all of her and Cy's other artistic contributions.

Quickly pocketing the book, he helped stamp out and obscure the embers of the fire. With everything picked up, they set out.

Keeping Eir steady alongside the wagon, Caspar had a clear view of Mel and the Ashlunds, and caught glimpses of James when the wagon tilted with each dip in the forest floor.

Mel at some point mentioned another secure location up North, and that they were headed back through the Sands to reach it.

Caspar didn't have a map on him at that moment, so he was left imagining a dotted line to mark the back-and-forth of his own travels.

He wondered briefly if they'd pass Jack's lake, then figured that wasn't likely and pushed the thought away.

They stopped for lunch, gave the horses a break and most everyone a chance to stretch away any stiffness from traveling. Lilya and Cy ran around a bit, burning off some pent-up energy. Robin, still in wolven form, dashed around with them to keep a close eye on them and their surroundings.

Caspar, choosing to linger by the wagon, gave Elliot a quick brush down.

Elliot straightened, ears flicking forward, at the same moment Caspar noticed James beginning to toss in his sleep. Hild, who had stayed firmly at James's side, sat back a little when James slipped from her grasp in his restlessness.

He started to turn back and forth in his sleep, like he was pulling against something invisible holding him down. His breaths became more shallow as his breathing quickened with panic, and he let out suppressed, pained noises in the back of his throat. As Caspar drew closer, he could see beads of sweat on James's forehead as he continued to jerk back and forth, face occasionally twitching with pain and discomfort.

"A...lot happened," Hild said quietly, "before we got to him."

Brows furrowing, Caspar stared at her. She stared back, eyes intense yet somber, urging him to make a connection that he didn't have enough pieces for.

There was the slightest sag in her posture when he could only just. Stare uselessly.

"The hallway Raj found under the palace," she said quickly, "had several rooms. One of them was-- was a torture room, used recently, and evidence suggested--"

Suddenly, James's eyes shot open, and he threw himself forward with a shuddered inhale, gasping for air. He immediately wavered, pulling up his legs to lean on before he lost balance completely.

Visibly shaking, he weakly hugged his knees as he curled his head down. He didn't acknowledge Hild or Caspar's presence as he stared down into his lap with distant, wide eyes.

Hild didn't get to finish. Caspar knew where she was headed, though.

Rooted in place by horror and with a violent boiling sensation in his chest, Caspar was at a loss of what to do.

Nearly hyperventilating, James seemed to be trying to control his breaths, forcibly taking in slower, deeper ones. He trembled with each breath, as if labored.

Snapping out of his own shock, Caspar made to move closer, but quickly decided against it.

"It's alright," he murmured, feeling as useless as when he was stuck on the ground with that bullet in his chest, "slow breaths, you're alright now."

James brought his hands up to his head, digging his fingers into his hair as he held his head. Though his breaths did gradually start to slow, his arms and hands tensed, arching sharply inward.

"Hild is right here with us," Caspar continued softly, though unsure if his words were reaching him, "and so are Lyall, Mel, Bo-- we're all outside of King's Peak. There's pine trees here-- You know, we could probably try to make some of that tea."

There was no visible response. Still curled inward at harsh angles, James was gradually working his way to normal inhales and exhales, but it took him a minute to get there. Once his breaths were steady, his shoulders and arms slowly started to lose tension until they went slack, and his arms dropped to his sides, as if exhausted. Still leaning forward with his forehead against his knees, he slouched heavily onto himself.

It appeared that his eyes were closed tightly for another long stretch of time until he finally looked up. Hesitantly, he flicked his eyes to Hild first, as if to check if she was where he last saw her. Tilting her head, she offered a small, warm smile.

Several seconds passed as he stared at her. His adam's apple then bobbed with a thick swallow, and he turned his head, scanning around him until his eyes landed on Caspar.

Caspar gave a small wave in greeting and said quietly, "Hi, bud."

"Hi," James said distantly, offering Caspar a slight nod.

Setting his hands on his hips, Caspar stayed where he was, unsure if he should step away but sure that he probably shouldn't come closer.

"It is 12:43 in the afternoon," Hild said, her voice quiet yet light. "Of our first full day back on the road. Our brave band of travelers has stopped for but a quick rest, and we'll be on our way again."

James stared out of the wagon beyond the two of them, barely nodding at her words.

"I slept in late," he said quietly.

"You did," she agreed.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked.

Caspar scanned the woods around them. "Just trees," he murmured, "but there's plenty more where that came from."

James only hummed softly in reply.

"I'll be right back," Hild said softly, brushing a hand over James's shoulder before standing.

Caspar stepped to the side and offered her a hand down. He watched until she then disappeared around the wagon. Over his shoulder, he caught James's blank stare turned in her direction as well.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Caspar leaned back heavily against the wagon.

No words were exchanged for what felt like a while. Caspar wasn't sure what could appropriately fill the silence, especially after the revelation. He clenched his hands, then forced himself to release that tension for now. He decided the birds singing in the trees, and the gentle conversations from their friends around them, were just enough.

He eventually pulled himself up to perch on the open end of the wagon. Let out a breath, watched it mist, then dissipate in the cold.

The softly exchanged words around them slowly lost clarity, and the chirping birds grew faint.

He felt heavy. Wanted to sleep, even.

But what right did he have to feel that way?

Caspar checked back over his shoulder.

James's eyes almost looked glazed over, as if he were asleep with his eyes still open.

Caspar cleared his throat and mustered enough energy to begin with, "Cy's, um, quite the artist, I've discovered recently."

James blinked, and it took him a moment before his eyes refocused and landed on Caspar.

"Oh?" he asked.

Caspar managed a small smile. "She likes drawing the horses, especially. Which-- I'm impressed, horses can be difficult to draw. Proportions and all, very different if you're used to people."

"I'm sure it helps to have a lot of visual reference," James said quietly.

Caspar glanced at Elliot standing in front of him, and nodded. "Live references do help quite a bit."

Twisting around a little, he added, "I have some of her works right here, if you want to see."

James met his eyes, and then nodded.

With a slight nod of his own, Caspar dug through his pockets for the sketchbook. He dragged himself to his feet, took careful steps to the front of the wagon, and settled back beside James with the open book in his hands.

He was being completely honest when he said he was impressed. Cy's horses weren't very intricate as far as anatomy and details went. But the way she utilized loops and scrolls communicated just as well the grace and strength of the creatures. And her control over the values of her lines was frankly incredible.

James looked over Caspar's shoulder, eyes scanning the page. Caspar held the book more to the side, closer to James.

"That one's Elliot," he said quietly, nodding to one of the doodles in the corner.

At the mention of the name, Elliot quickly reached his head over the side of the wagon, eagerly reaching out to James. James tensed for a moment and then turned to the side, staring at Elliot before his posture slowly relaxed. Gingerly, he reached out and pet the side of Elliot's face.

He murmured something under his breath that Caspar couldn't understand as he leaned in closer and leaned his forehead against Elliot's. He sat like that for nearly thirty seconds before he pulled away, scratching Elliot's chin.

He seemed a little lost as he turned back to Caspar, and Elliot stayed with his face close by.

A little absently, Caspar slowly paged through his book again. Then paused and huffed a laugh at Lilya's most recent, um...portrait.

James tilted his head.

"...Lilya?" he asked.

With a faint smile, Caspar nodded. "Of her father. A great likeness, don't you think?"

James's eyebrows pinched upward.

"That's... Lyall?"

"That was a last-minute decision, I think," Caspar said with a chuckle. "And she took some artistic liberties."

"I think I see it," James hummed. "She got the curls down."

Caspar nodded. "She did get that much. The nose is a little big, but...it works."

"It's open to interpretation," James said. "Like good art should be."

"As it should be," Caspar agreed.

"The more I look at it, the more I think it's actually quite accurate," James continued, still staring at the drawing.

Caspar laughed. It felt weary, but good regardless, and finally right again with James back.

"I do see it," Caspar murmured.

"Have you been drawing?" James asked softly.

Caspar glanced at him. "Yeah, I have."

"Can I see?" he asked. "Yours?"

With a nod, Caspar took to simply turning the pages, slow and making sure to linger long enough on every sketch. Regardless of the sheer messiness of some, and how revealing others might have felt. He decided by this point he didn't have much to hide anymore, and the enjoyment it might have brought someone else far outweighed a moment or two of self-consciousness.

Then realized he wasn't as fearless as he was determined to be when he noticed just a few more portraits of certain people than he cared to admit out loud.

Ears beginning to burn a little, Caspar kept a steady pace paging through, despite himself. He eventually spared a glance James's way. James briefly looked up to meet his eyes, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. He seemed more attentive than before, now, as his eyes softened. But then he simply looked away, back to the flipping pages.

Hild returned sometime into the middle of flipping through. From the way she leaned on the wagon's edge with her chin resting on her folded arms, though, Caspar wondered if she'd been there longer than he realized. When she caught his gaze, she only grinned with a hint of fondness in her eyes.

She didn't say anything. Caspar, though more self-conscious again, just quietly turned from another portrait by Lilya to a study of a deer among underbrush.

"I like this one," James commented quietly, looking at the deer. "You captured the look in their eyes when they know they've been spotted."

"Thanks," Caspar murmured, scratching behind his ear. "This one was actually pretty fearless for a moment. Gave me time to really look at it."

"How far out were you? It might've never seen a human before," James said, still studying the drawing.

Caspar squinted at the sketch, as though he could possibly read the distance from somewhere within it. "Maybe. Close enough for it to see me, at least."

"Oh, I meant... how far from civilization," James said softly. "But that too."

Caspar blinked. "Right. Um. Half a week out, give or take."

James hummed, and finally looked up from the sketchbook. Finally noticing Hild's presence, his head shot up. He looked to her expectantly.

Hild climbed up then and settled in at his other side. James's expression softened ever so slightly.

"We'll leave shortly," she said, "as soon as Lyall and Robin conclude a game of 'hide and seek' with Lilya. Not their decision, mind you, she just took off on them."

James nodded slowly.

"Ah," he said with a nod, and left it at that.

Hild tilted her head, seeming to catch sight of the deer sketch. "Calder kept close record of our travels. He didn't happen to note the dates too, did he?"

"Not that I saw," James said.

Caspar pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment before offering, "You can help add timestamps and stuff later."

Peeking around the edge of the wagon, Mel appeared and met Caspar's eyes, then looked to James. Taking in the three of them lined up in the back of the wagon, she grinned.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "But I'd like to take a look at James while he's up. Before we get moving again."

Looking to James, she tilted her head. "Is that alright?"

Though James didn't move much, the distant, cloudy look in his eyes seemed to return a little.

"Oh," he said. "That's fine."

With a concerned look fixed on James, Caspar pocketed his sketchbook. "I'll go..."

James only nodded in reply. So Caspar stepped down from the wagon, and lent Mel a quick hand up before quietly stepping aside.

He was mildly surprised when Hild hopped down and followed closely after him. They exchanged nods of acknowledgement, but she stayed close at his side, even as he found his way back to Eir.

While Caspar dug through the bag on Eir's saddle, Hild stood with her shoulders squared at Eir's other side. Determined, yet hesitant as she turned a finger in her palm. She was fidgety, in the midst of carefully crafting her next words.

Her account of what they found below the palace in King's Peak, cut off early before she could share anything definitive, suddenly came back to Caspar.

With dread slowly tightening its grip around his lungs, he silently offered Eir an apple and kept his hand somewhat steady as he patted the horse's nose.

"It was Aaron," Hild said, only just audible.

Caspar tensed.

What did that mean? What was Aaron? What did...

Oh. No.

"I caught a few details of his...work," Hild continued, voice almost as biting as the air around them, "when his daughter was speaking with Jane; she didn't understand the exact nature of what he does. And though you had a mere gut feeling, you were right to be wary of that man."

Hands tightening at his sides, Caspar exhaled slowly as he pressed his forehead to Eir's side.

He didn't want to be right, really.

"Aaron's daughter revealed that he'd been on a 'big case' for approximately a week, working directly under Carter. Aaron claimed to be a physician for the armed forces. One could dismiss it as semantics, but semantics is everything when you're careful as Aaron was. A man we found below the palace shed some light on the matter, having heard across the hall from the--"

She stopped short, faltering.

The torture room.

That foreign, heated churning in his chest returned. He couldn't place the feeling at first, nor did he want to.

Finally being able to definitively identify Aaron as directly responsible -- for James's suffering, no less -- forced Caspar to realize that, not only did he hate the lies and facade of decency, but he actually hated Aaron.

It was dark, to hate someone's being. It wasn't unwarranted, but Caspar's insides crawled at the realization.

Hild, about to speak again, was cut off by James's cry of distress.

Any other thoughts abandoned in an instant, Caspar ran back.

Having been bound flat on his back or stomach for a week, James hadn't actually had a chance to look at himself.

There was a swirling, pooling sense of dread in his gut as Mel came alongside him and gently pulled the blankets aside, clearing some space around them.

He felt distant. Detached from his own body. Afraid that he was going to fall back into it at any moment. Afraid that he would lose the false sense of neutrality he was barely managing to hold up.

With shallow breaths, he nodded to Mel's questions, offering short, quiet responses.

Could she help him take off his coat?

Sure.

She was a doctor. She needed to see what she was working with.

Could he sit up for her and hold still?

She needed to change bandages. It was practical. It wasn't personal. This was for his benefit. This was important for the long term. Refusal would be to spit in the face of their sacrifice. It would be to say their rescue wasn't even worthwhile.

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, he cooperatively obeyed Mel's instructions and heeded her gentle warnings.

It was cold, bare skin against the crisp air.

But he was hurt enough to warrant it, so Mel could access everything.

"I'll keep it as quick as possible," she kept saying, trying to encourage him to bear with it as she started to peel away bandages that were already marked with sweat and dried blood.

With empty, hollow eyes, he stared at the growing pile of discarded, dirty bandages at his side.

Too afraid to look down, he kept his eyes from drifting too far.

He could feel the still-raw incisions filling the gaps between old, healed scars. New additions, Aaron had said. Carter's special request. Because re-injuring every previously healed wound hadn't been enough. Because somehow, in some way, it pleased Carter to know that Aaron was successfully chipping away at him, making him more scar tissue than true skin.

Morbidly, James wished he could peel it all away and somehow crawl out of it. He wished he could go back in time when the deepest scars he ever had were from everyday accidents, not deliberate, maliciously placed marks patterned on his skin like a blanket.

James barely registered that Mel had started to clean some of the wounds. She'd moved behind him, and frankly, he could barely feel much on his back below his shoulders anymore. He could feel faint pressure, but it lacked the sensation of actual touch.

He slouched forward as Mel's hands traveled around him, wrapping, and wrapping, and wrapping.

The herbal smell of the salve was dulling his senses, but for a moment, his eyes involuntarily followed his nose.

With regret, he caught sight of his chest and his belly. Once he looked, his eyes were fixed.

Mel had already wrapped up his chest to the point where hardly any skin was exposed. He supposed that in and of itself was telling.

But just below his ribs, there were two arched deep cuts on the left, mirroring two identical scars on the right. And the scars on the right weren't exactly scars anymore. Aaron had opened them back up and carelessly left them so.

Staring blankly at the four gouges in his belly, he tried not to remember how Aaron babbled in the darkness. How he'd explained step-by-step his reasoning for the placement. How he'd complimented Reed's work, though he didn't know his name.

What had he said?

"Utter precision, enviable even."

James grit his teeth together, trying not to think a thing. Nothing at all.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up.

Mel's mouth was moving. She looked at him like she was waiting for an answer.

He nodded.

Outstretching her hands, she rested her palms over the open wounds on his stomach. Her hands were warm compared to his already freezing skin.

Winter was always the worst time of year for healing.

It slowed blood flow. Slowed the whole process.

But that was when James remembered that Mel could speed up the process. The revelation hit him a split second before the warmth invaded his body, like daggers of light cutting through to his gut.

He felt like he could vomit.

Stars started to spot his vision in black and white, and every nerve in his body was screaming.

His whole face contorted in pain, and his body was quick to follow. Everything felt dark and cold as his fingers and toes curled in pained arches, and every limb drew inward, twitching uncontrollably. He was aware of his own pained cries in the same way one might hear a wolf howl in the distance. Echoing, ringing in his own ears, but he was too far to do anything. Too far to respond.

He brought a hand to cover his face, and the other hovered and shook over his throbbing, burning stomach.

It sounded like he was underwater.

Mel's voice came through a thick filter, distorted and unclear. James was panting. Heaving. Hissing through his teeth as daggers flew down his spine. He swore he could feel Aaron's hand traveling down, bringing the daggers with it.

It felt like another drain.

In a split second, Caspar was gone and standing at the back of the wagon again. There was an edge of panic in his voice as he asked what happened, if James was in worse condition than they initially thought, if Mel was okay--

Hild brushed past Caspar and jumped up into the wagon to assess for herself.

For the first time ever, Hild saw Mel look completely helpless. With a look of desperate confusion, she'd pulled back with her hands raised, eyes flooded with worry. In front of her, James was writhing in a tight, tight, ball, twitching and gasping with shaky breaths. He kept grabbing for his stomach, and covered his eyes with his other hand.

"I was just trying to heal him," Mel said quickly. "And then he... it must have triggered something for him. I've never seen such a violent reaction to healing magic before."

Keeping an arm's length between them, Hild knelt down and tilted her head as she carefully studied James's scars. She recognized most of them, but they were...worse than she remembered, thicker and more knotted. Some that she knew were much older looked new.

Hild swallowed thickly as she stamped down a slight churning in her gut.

"If they had a corrupted healing mage," Mel continued, lowering her voice a little more, like she was trying to keep it inside the wagon. "It's... it's possible they let them drain him. It's... it's what happens when a healing mage reverses their magic. And they take, instead of give."

Hild recalled their encounter with Jay. Bo had established the man as a corrupted healing mage, but didn't have a chance to elaborate.

Glancing back, Hild caught Caspar's grim expression as he also pieced this together with what they both already knew.

Aaron being a healing mage would explain his intense distrust. Hild mulled over the pieces they did have before deciding that it was surely him.

"It's a forbidden practice," Mel added under her breath. "It's dangerous for everyone involved. Including the mage doing it. Long-term, it can drive a healing mage mad."

She paused, and added gravely: "I don't know who could've done this. If it was the man you ran into down there... then it's a good thing you didn't let him out."

But even as she spoke, her words faltered.

James was still actively writhing in pain.

"I don't think it was Jay," Hild said slowly.

There was no reason to give Jay the benefit of the doubt, but he only ever implied that he stayed completely separate.

Softly, Hild said, desperately hoping that he was present enough to hear her, "James, Mel was helping. We'll avoid utilizing healing magic for now, though."

"I can medicate him," Mel said quietly. "To calm him down. He still needs more care. I barely started."

Hild hesitated, then nodded.

Mel nodded solemnly in return, and she turned to dig in her bag.

A hand brushed Hild's shoulder, and she looked up at her brother. She hadn't noticed his arrival.

"Tap out for this one, alright?" Lyall said gently.

Hild watched Mel pull out a small syringe, and Hild's stomach churned again.

Mel carefully approached James and glanced back at Lyall, wordlessly beckoning him close with a nod.

James was moving too much. She would need help keeping him still. At least, until the drug kicked in.

Hild stood back, giving Lyall room to step in and help, then slipped down from the wagon entirely. She was distantly aware of Caspar falling into step beside her as she turned away.

The healing process will be much slower, then, since healing magic was ultimately detrimental in this circumstance.

Eventually James calmed as the drug took hold.

Hild strained to hear her brother's quiet offer to take point with James's care. Mel quietly agreed that it was the best course of action, though Hild could hear the guilt in her voice. Lyall went on to say something else, but their voices dropped lower, so Hild missed the rest of their exchange.

That would be best, Hild told herself. Logically. Fewer people on his case would likely reduce overall stress.

Folding her arms tightly, Hild thought she was more than capable herself. A large part of her preferred it to be her than her brother, actually.

Squeezing her eyes shut against an unwanted prickle in the corners of her eyes, she was resigned to let this go. Lyall would insist she was too close to the case, and she would have to concede eventually.

Glancing sideways then up, Hild took in the tension in Caspar's shoulders, and the hard lines of his darkened expression. There was something in his eyes that she didn't recognize.

When he met her concerned gaze, his face softened and his shoulders sagged. He wrapped a loose arm around her. She leaned into his side only slightly, surprised that she did find some comfort in the partial embrace.

Carter stood over him, and James knelt down on his knees in the city center. With a passing thought, he realized the rescue had only been a dream. A desperate, last-minute dream that had lasted far too long.

Finally, as reality seeped in, all of his senses sharpened at once.

The crowd in front of him stretched out for at least a mile, with each person packed in, mere inches from one another. With wide, attentive eyes, they were all focused on one of two things: Carter, or James.

He became aware of the rope around his neck.

The noose hugged him, just taut enough to feel like a knot in his throat.

The platform had stone supports, but the portion he knelt on was made of wood. Beneath him, there was a trap door that would fall out under him on Carter's cue.

Carter's voice echoed over the crowd, loud and commanding.

Tiberius Hemming... finally put to justice with utter precision.

James blinked.

That didn't sound right.

Carter's last words didn't sound like him. It sounded like someone else.

A deep ache started to permeate through his stomach. Piercing, penetrating, and invasive. His ears started to ring, louder and louder and louder until the sound was ripped away from him.

Complete silence. And darkness.

He opened his eyes and was immediately met with a beam of light flashing right into them. Blinded, James saw white, and spots danced across his vision as a familiar voice cut through.

"Daydreaming again?"

It was Aaron.

"Not to worry, just a few more days."

James tried to blink his eyes into focus. Eventually, he could make out Aaron's face, and his willowy silhouette leaning over him. His glasses caught the light, disguising his eyes behind two glowing circles.

"Neither of us has very long," Aaron said, his grin wobbly but smug all the same. "But I'll at the very least outlive you."

There was a moment where James tried to think of something to say in response, but he hardly conjured a coherent thought before Aaron reached for something James only caught a glimpse of.

As if saying something could delay the inevitable, James opened his mouth hoping words would come out.

"Please," he ended up saying, ashamed of the sheer desperation in his voice.

He was reduced to begging. He had no other recourse.

"Please just kill me," he whispered.

But Aaron didn't seem to acknowledge his plea. Instead, a sharp pain shot through his gut. It spread as Aaron's shadow fell over him, and Aaron muttered something about blood and having to clean it up.

The complaint hardly registered as James released an ugly groan, too exhausted to even scream.

Rolling over, he felt his dry eyes sting behind his eyelids, and he tried to push back the wave of nausea that rolled over him. Failing, he let out another low groan, knowing there was nothing to throw up on an empty stomach.

He felt a blanket get pulled up over his shoulders, and the increased warmth felt like a pebble dropped into a lake - a small disturbance, but it started a ripple effect.

Aaron didn't give him blankets.

Eyes shooting open again, James felt his gut ache again as he shifted, eyes darting around and quickly landing on Lyall.

He stared.

Lyall. He was with Lyall. And they were...

Slowly, it came back to him again. They were in the woods. They'd escaped King's Peak.

He was... in a wagon. Everyone was safe.

Relatively.

Finally blinking, James felt his eyes burn, but they were also wet with tears. Looking away from Lyall, he felt another wave of nausea roll over him, and he tried to swallow down the urge to convulse, despite having nothing to vomit up.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying again to at the very least, push down the desire to throw up.

"Afternoon, Mr. Hawke," Lyall said.

There came the sounds of rummaging in a box off to the side.

James couldn't risk replying. He could feel the pressure building in the back of his throat.

"Try to breathe in slowly," Lyall chirped, sounding a little closer than before. "Give a good whiff."

Confused, James opened his eyes to see Lyall kneeling directly beside him now, and sticking half a lemon under James's nose.

Already mid-deep breath, before he could think about the consequences, he breathed it in. The smell of the lemon was sharp, and went right up his nose, so potent he could almost taste the sour in his mouth.

Huffing out through his nose, he ended up sneezing.

The nausea, he noticed, was gone.

"Gesundheit," Lyall said. He tossed the lemon half over his shoulder as he leaned back to sit more comfortably.

Squinting up at Lyall, James felt water well up in his eyes, but this time it was because of the sneeze.

"What?" he asked in a mumble.

"Good health," Lyall explained as he flashed a grin. "Well wishes and whatnot."

James blinked hard to clear his vision and turned his head, trying to look around the back of the wagon.

Toward the other end of the wagon, Cy was tucked away in a far corner with a book on her knees. She was peeking over the top of the pages, though, and watching them with mild interest.

Lilya was nowhere in immediate sight, but her soft, idle rambling about being a sneaky dragon could be heard close by.

"...Thanks," James finally thought to reply, far too delayed.

He didn't feel like moving to sit up, as his stomach still ached deeply. Still lying down, he simply looked up at Lyall from a low angle.

"I'm sorry if I... disturbed you," James said faintly.

He was aware of the girls, and he didn't want to scare them.

Lyall waved dismissively. "Nothing to apologize for. I'm here on watch, anyhow."

Watch for... what?

James didn't want to ask for what was likely an obvious answer, but he wondered, still. Wondered too, how much of all of this Lyall had explained to Lilya and Cy, if anything at all. What did they think was going on?

Nodding slightly, James looked back to Cy, who quietly turned back to reading.

"Mel will be stepping back now," Lyall said, voice softening, "and, unless you'd prefer Robin's far sunnier disposition to mine, I'll be assisting with your recovery from here on out."

It took a moment for James to process everything Lyall said.

Mel was stepping back because something went wrong. It came back to him in a fuzzy, chaotic memory. She'd been changing bandages, and then she'd-- she'd tried to heal him.

Even the thought made his skin crawl.

She was stepping back because something was wrong with him. Healing magic wasn't going to work anymore, was it? Maybe that was part of how he'd been broken.

And then, of course, Hild wasn't going to take over his care. She had enough emotions to sift through without having to worry about James. Though, a lot of the emotions she was sifting through were likely related to... James.

So. Lyall.

He was the logical choice.

"Alright," he said, again, he realized, too delayed.

Lyall briefly glanced Cy's way too. Scooting closer, he dropped his voice to a murmur as he slowly and carefully said, "Your body right now is simply reacting to healing magic with distress. It's a..." He tilted his head. "It's a reasonable response. Survival instincts just kicked in. We'll be taking the recovery a little slower, is all."

James swallowed thickly.

He could remember enough. Enough to know he probably caused a scene without meaning to.

But the way Lyall talked about it -- it was like he already understood. How did he know? How did he know what happened to him? How did any of them know? Was it just a logical deduction, or did they talk to someone before rescuing him for information?

He was quiet again, unable to think of a way to fill the long pause.

Swallowing again, he nodded only once.

"Did you..." he started hesitantly, trying to match Lyall's volume, but ended up being even quieter. "How did you... know..."

He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. It was daunting.

Lyall was quiet for a moment, either trying to find the rest of the thought in the silence on his own or simply waiting, then had to ask, "Know what?"

He knew he couldn't just expect Lyall to understand him without context, but it pained him when he realized he'd have to acknowledge it directly.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed again, hard.

He took in a slow, deep breath, removing himself from his words enough to say it and not feel it.

"How did you know how they hurt me?" he asked, barely audible.

The magic wasn't something the could see the effects of -- was it?

Drawing in a small breath, Lyall nodded. "Ah. Right. It's... There were scattered pieces of information that Hild put together, and even now I'm still tentative on the conclusion, but--"

"He did," James interrupted, his voice wavering weakly. "He... he used... his magic."

There was a pause.

"Aaron," Lyall uttered, tensely. "Right?"

James's mouth pulled down into a tight frown. Just hearing the name out loud made him feel uneasy. It took him several seconds to work up an audible reply.

"Yes," he said.

With a slight nod, Lyall then glanced off toward the trees around them. He idly bounced a heel as he leaned back against a crate.

James tried to remember everything. He wasn't really told much, now that he thought back, besides that they'd split the party to go rescue him, and that they'd gotten free. Those two small pieces of information hardly painted a full picture, and frankly, James didn't remember them meeting Aaron - at least, not when he was in his cell. Something had to have happened in-between, because James never told them his name.

"How do you know his name?" James asked faintly.

Pursing his lips, Lyall didn't immediately meet his eyes. He tilted his head side to side a little like he was weighing his options.

"Hild said they met him," he eventually said. "On some strange off-chance, they actually spoke with him without even knowing with whom they were speaking. She only put it together last minute, on their way out that door."

James drew his brows together tightly.

"By chance?" he asked.

With a grin, Lyall leaned a bit closer again and mock-whispered, "Actually, it was Cas. He kept running into people. Poor sap must have been all turned around in a city as large as King's Peak. And he's kind of got two left feet as it is."

"You're saying he... he ran into him? On accident?" James asked.

"Crazy, right?"

James wasn't sure if crazy was the word he'd use to describe it.

"Unlikely," he said instead.

"Incredibly," Lyall agreed.

"So they just... bumped into him and... moved on?" James asked.

"Ah. Well, see." Lyall scratched the back of his head as he thought. "The run-ins-- multiple, yes-- more involved...Aaron's family? Who recognized our good friends and invited them for a slightly extended visit, wherein the details of Aaron's work slipped out in a conversation between his kid and his neighbors, who--"

Lyall stopped short. Snapped his mouth shut, even.

James didn't know why he stopped so abruptly. Squinting up at Lyall, he arched his brows upward.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

"Yes," Lyall replied smoothly, "Hild's epiphany. Then they left Aaron's company and went off to find you, which they didn't immediately accomplish that night, of course. Then they did eventually the next morning-- shout out to Raj, by the way, he was a champ tunneling them in and out of pretty much everywhere the way he did. We all reunite and immediately hit the metaphorical road, but by gods do I wish it were at least a real trail, and here we are now."

James couldn't help but feel like he was missing something, but it was clear that Lyall was glossing over details for the sake of painting the bigger picture. It was still unsettling and hard to believe that they'd had a visit with Aaron. Of all people to run into by chance, it had to be his torturer. The mousy, spineless man who despite all of his complaints, only ever did what he was told.

Had James ever been given an opportunity to try to escape when Aaron was in the room... James was convinced he'd have overpowered him, even in the state he was in.

Of course, Carter and Aaron had made sure he never had the opportunity.

Quite again for a long moment, James spoke up again.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"In a secure location outside of the city," Lyall answered, "with the kids and Robin."

He hummed.

"That's good," he said softly.

Lyall nodded. "Would've liked to see it, though. It's been a minute since I last visited a city."

"How long has it been?" James asked.

"Three years, about," Lyall said. "I miss it. It's so full of life and interest. So much happens in a second, and there's so many people to meet." With a shrug and grin, he added, "But it's an easy decision, staying away, at this point."

"It's a much less comfortable life," James said. "Living off the land. If you're not adjusted to it."

"It has been quite the adjustment," Lyall confirmed with a laugh. "I think I've managed by this point, though. Which do you prefer, by the way?"

James let out a quiet sigh as he stared out of the wagon at the rocking world around them. The trees were browning and losing their leaves. When he'd been captured, they were still green.

So much could happen in the turning of a season.

He thought about the years he'd spent camping out under the stars. Hiding in trees, or below them. Taking shelter in caves, under boulders, and any place not already claimed by a creature. He thought about the months in the sun, in the snow, having to bear with every kind of weather, and having to embrace the constant dangers that came with the wild, undeveloped land.

For a portion of his life, he did live in the city. Of course, they often left the city walls to embrace the harsh realities of the wilderness, as a part of their training, but at the end of it all, they'd always return to the security of the barracks, where everyone was afforded their own warm bed.

Though that life provided a certain level of comfort, the most ease James ever experienced in life was as a child. He knew some of that was simply due to the fact that he was being cared for by his parents. But there was something alluring, albeit painfully nostalgic, about the farming life.

Ranching, he supposed, had been the closest he'd ever gotten to it.

"I think, were things different," James said, hoping that provided enough nuance to suffice, "I'd prefer something in-between. To be close enough to the city to go when needed, or preferred, but still to have a roof over my head. But I have grown to adapt to whatever circumstances are allotted to me, and I do not despise the outdoors. Though it can be harsh, it can also be beautiful."

Lyall hummed. "The best of both worlds." He smiled warmly. "That does sound nice."

"Did you like the city life?" James asked. "The busyness of it?"

With a nod, Lyall answered, "Never a dull moment. Though, there's been plenty of adventure to be had out here."

"There's adventure out here, too," James said. "Just not of the same kind."

There was another lull in the conversation, and this time, at least, it felt mutual. Cy was still reading, and James wondered how much she was actually reading, or if she was trying to listen in. He knew there were some things Lyall wasn't saying simply because his daughters were present - but he didn't know to what degree Lyall had to censor the events that lead to his rescue and escape.

Were the girls not within earshot, James might've asked more direct questions. Though, if he was being honest, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to hear at the moment. At least, not about Aaron.

Looking up at Lyall, James noted his relaxed posture as he sat back once more. Lyall drummed his fingers on one of the boxes beside him, and scanned the forest around them. Glanced down Cy's way, then back out to the trees. Mentally busying himself, it seemed.

Just when Lyall opened his mouth to say something, Lilya pounced out of nowhere, tackling Lyall's side. Completely unprepared for the ambush, he fell over with a grunt. He found his bearings fast enough though to hold his daughter aloft above him before she could roll onto James.

"Warn a guy," Lyall started with a laugh.

Lilya, held up as she was, stuck out her arms and flapped vigorously.

"Dragons always attack when you're not expecting them!" she countered.

"It's good to be ready at all times," James said lightly, watching the two of them with a faint smile.

"At all times," Lilya echoed.

"It's a good thing this dragon is nice, too," James added.

With a small frown, Lilya drooped. "I came to steal treasure, but I guess I can be nice."

Lyall hummed. "Sadly, all I have is lemons right now anyway. Would've been a--"

"Golden lemons?" Lilya asked.

"If you're generous with your definition of golden," James said.

Setting Lilya down next to him, Lyall pushed himself upright again and waved toward the lemon halves on the box. "See for yourself."

Lilya crawled up the box and stared at the lemon very intently. Then shrugged and said, "It's just a lemon."

"You should try sniffing it," James suggested.

So she stuck her nose into it and carefully sniffed. Then sneezed on it. With a grimace, Lyall tossed the contaminated half out over the side of the wagon. Lilya gasped dramatically.

"Sorry," James said quietly.

Lyall waved dismissively. "Just a lemon."

"Papa," Lilya said gravely, "you can't litter."

Lyall shrugged defensively. "It's just more plant matter. It'll be fine."

"Some animal will eat it, probably," James added.

Lilya made a face. "But it's sour." She looked deep in thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you like sour stuff?"

"In moderation," James answered.

Crawling down from the box, Lilya dropped back into her father's lap. "Would Elliot eat a lemon?"

"He'd likely spit it out," James said. "Though I've never fed him one to know for sure, lemons aren't exactly a horse food."

With her mouth forming a little 'o', Lilya nodded in understanding. "What's Elliot's favorite food?"

"He's a big fan of hay," James said. "And carrots. And sugar cubes, but those I give him sparingly. They're not good for his teeth."

"Sugar's tasty," Lilya agreed. "Cy says I can't have it because it makes me go crazy."

"Does it, now?" James asked with raised brows. He looked to Lyall. "Can you attest to that?"

Lyall nodded. "I've borne witness to the effects of an excess of pure sugar in her system. She's like a condensed tornado."

Lilya giggled. "I can spin really really fast. I can show you!"

She moved to get up, but Lyall lifted her off her feet and sat her back down. "Next stop, you can."

"The wagon's rocking a lot," James said. "Spinning might make you fall over and hurt yourself. Or worse, fall out of the wagon."

She just shrugged and asked instead, "How fast can you spin, Mr. James?"

"In my current state, not very," James admitted. "But perhaps in a few months, I'll be able to compete with you."

Lilya's face brightened. "Maybe on my birthday!"

"When's that?" James asked.

"Bruma 3!" Lilya declared. "When's yours?"

James hesitated.

"The... 28th. Of Aerth," he said.

Lilya's smile somehow brightened further. "We're really close! We can share a birthday cookie."

James looked to Lyall, eyebrows raised. Birthday cookies must've been a family thing or just an Isles thing.

"I'd like that," James said, trying to muster a smile.

Eager to move the conversation off of himself in this matter, he looked to Lyall.

"What about yours?" he asked. "When's your birthday?"

Lyall nodded. "Ah. 15th of Sil."

"So... just before we all ran into you guys, then," James said quietly, doing the math in his head. "Near Ruddlan."

Lyall grinned. "Yeah. Good timing."

"We made him a birthday cookie too," Lilya said, fiddling with Lyall's hand. "Do you want one for yours?"

"I won't say no to a cookie," James said.

"Do you know how to bake?" Lilya asked. "Uncle Bo can bake great. If you can't bake, he can teach you."

"I can certainly give it a try," James said. "I haven't exactly had many opportunities to bake. There are no ovens in the forest."

Lilya tilted her head. "You live in a forest all the time?"

Lifting her up and over to his other side, Lyall nudged her along and quickly answered for him, "Sometimes, and there's nothing wrong with that. Cassie likes the trees too. Say, why don't you go practice reading with your sister now? Fulfill your daily reading quota."

Lilya expressed disinterest in reading, but was resigned to practice. Dropping to her stomach, she crawled away in what she must have thought was a lizard-like manner as she uttered about stealing books.

After waiting a moment, looking to ensure that the girls had begun practice, Lyall turned back to James.

"I'm just going to talk with Bo real quick," he said quietly, "and I'll be right back. If anything changes with you before then, just holler. Or. Speak in a normal volume, it's pretty close actually. Whichever best fits the circumstance, really."

And with that and a quick nod, Lyall stepped on boxes and over to the front of the wagon.

James watched as Lyall disappeared, and glanced back over to Lilya and Cy, who had picked up a different book. Lilya started to read out loud, and Cy would occasionally correct her or help her out when she started fumbling over a word.

His gaze drifted off to the passing trees, and then up to the sky above them. It was overcast, but there were a few small patches that opened to show the blue sky behind the clouds, letting the sun in.

He wasn't sure how long he spent staring at the sky, but he found himself nodding off. At first, he tried to fight it - he'd been asleep for so long, and his head was so cloudy - but eventually, sleep won over, and he was out.

When he finally started to stir awake again, he woke with a start, but couldn't remember the reason why. He woke up sweaty, again, despite knowing that the air outside of his cocoon of blankets was biting, especially since it was now dark.

He guessed he must've slept the rest of the day away.

But there was a flickering light beyond the wagon, likely from a fire.

This time when he woke up and opened his eyes, he saw Hild nearby, half of her darkened in the shadows.

James tried to move to sit up, but his head felt heavy, and he decided against it when the slightest movement upwards made his head spin. Leaning back down, he let out a grunt, feeling several parts of his body ache all at once.

"Would you like any assistance?" Hild asked.

"I'm not sure," he muttered, still feeling disoriented. "Head's... fuzzy."

Quietly, Hild moved closer and sat beside him.

"What time is it?" James asked.

"10:11 PM," she said. "Last I checked, anyway."

James hummed.

"Is every one asleep?" he asked.

"Most everyone," Hild answered.

"I see," James said quietly.

His mind was still waking up, and frankly, he still felt unsettled, even if he couldn't remember his dream this time. But talking to Hild was helping to ground him.

"Have you slept at all?" he asked simply.

With a hum, she leaned back, out of the gentle firelight, and laid with their shoulders brushing. "I will soon."

He looked over at her, only able to make out her basic features in the dark. Even if he'd had his glasses on, she'd have been obscured in the shadows.

"I think sleeping all day," James said softly. "Is ruining my internal clock."

"You can lead a nocturnal life with Caspar then," Hild replied, a slight smile in her voice.

"I suppose... in hindsight, my sleep was never very consistent before," James said quietly. "Though I'd really rather not be a nocturnal being. I do enjoy the sun."

"Sun's nice," Hild agreed. Then added, softly, after a second's hesitation, "You'd be missed, anyhow, if you were only ever awake at night."

"It would get very lonely," James said, matching her volume.

She hummed again but was otherwise quiet.

James looked up at the stars, content to sit in the silence for a moment. Then he turned to look at her, resting his eyes on her silhouette.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

Hild tilted her head toward him. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you?"

"Under every blanket you all collectively own?" James asked. "I think I'm fine."

"A good point," she said with a quiet laugh.

James hesitated, not sure of how Hild would reply, but decided to try again. He'd been too subtle, before, it seemed.

"Would you want to share?" he asked. "There's plenty of room under here."

There was a brief pause on her end, her mind almost audibly whirring, and then it clicked.

"Sure," she finally answered.

James shifted to the side to make more space and pushed the blankets up so she could find a way under them. Hild scooted closer and tugged the blankets over herself. It took her a moment to fully settle again.

"As I said," James said after a small pause. "Can't feel the cold under here."

"Very effective," Hild said with an affirmative nod.

"You know, when I start getting better," James said. "It's going to be hard to leave. I'll have to brave the elements."

"You could just take one of these with you," she said, lifting her corner of a blanket. "And face some mild judgment for it."

"From who?" James asked.

"Possibly me," Hild answered with a small shrug.

"Ah," James said. "Well. I don't have much pride left to lose, so, I'll chance it."

Humming a laugh, she turned her head to rest on his shoulder. "I'll find it mostly endearing, though."

"I'll take that as a victory, then," James said softly, leaning his head against hers.

With his face resting against the top of her head, he could smell what must've been the remnants of the latest dinner's scents. He recognized the smell of basil and thyme, and the dull scent of vegetables mixed together - namely onions and garlic, though, which were always the most fragrant. Normally, the smell might make him hungry, but having been starved for food for so long, his stomach was unaffected.

He closed his eyes, though, with his cheek pressed lightly against her hair. Her frizzy curls were soft against his skin, and this close, he could hear her steady breathing. In comparison, his almost felt erratic. Though he'd tried to distract his mind from everything with idle chatter, his body didn't forget.

"Lyall was telling me earlier," he said quietly, after a significant silence has passed. "A little bit about your trip into King's Peak. He said Caspar bumped into--" he hesitated, then forced out the name-- "Aaron, by chance. And you learned of who he was by talking to his kid?"

"Yes," answered Hild slowly, "we learned a lot from that encounter." She drew in a breath. "Aaron had mentioned working under Carter. And his daughter, in a separate conversation with-- with their visiting neighbor, provided some more telling details."

"What... kind of details?" James asked hesitantly.

"She at least knew where her father was working," Hild said quietly. "She didn't fully understand, though. She was under the impression that he was...helping people."

James was quiet for a moment.

He knew that Aaron's family didn't know the truth. They couldn't have. But he hadn't known Aaron had a daughter, too.

"I'm sure... that's what he'd rather have her believe," James said.

"It's what he led his family to believe," Hild said, quieter.

"How did you figure it out, then?" James asked. "How did you put together that he was... connected to me?"

"The time frame," Hild said. "It was mentioned that he was on a case for a week. It lined up with when you likely arrived in the city, which a semi-insightful conversation with someone below the palace confirmed a little later." She paused, then added, "Additionally, pieces of circumstantial evidence."

James had to pause as he tried to fill in the gaps of what he knew.

"You went below the palace?" he asked.

Hild nodded. "Raj successfully brought Bo and myself under. Caspar and Mel stayed back at a checkpoint of sorts."

It was making more sense, now.

"The shed," he said conclusively.

"The shed," Hild echoed in affirmative.

"When did you go under the palace?" he asked.

Obviously, they'd missed him, but he wondered by how much. It couldn't have been but a few hours shy of when he was last there if they were able to get out and recoup enough to go after him a second time.

"The exact hour escapes me." Quietly shifting, she turned onto her side to face him. "Past midnight, at least. I've recorded the time stamps of our progress somewhere. We believe we narrowly missed finding you, though."

"That sounds right," James said faintly, his mind returning to his last day. His perception of time had been severely skewed in the dark, windowless room deep underground. But he knew the reasonable deduction was that when he was pulled out of there, it had to have been evening.

He fell quiet again as his thoughts uncomfortably lingered on what he'd once thought would be some of his last moments.

"But you did find me," James finally said. "Just... just in time."

"We did," Hild agreed softly. Her hand brushed his cheek, then lightly settled on his chest. "We would've preferred much sooner."

James turned his head a little more to look at her, able to find her eyes even in the dark, as their faces were mere inches from each other.

"I don't blame you," he whispered, not quite able to continue the thought out loud as his throat grew tight.

He knew they'd done everything they could within reason to get to him as soon as they could. Considering they'd had to bring Caspar back from the brink of death and travel with so many people, children included, he was surprised they even made it in time.

Just barely, but they did.

Hild watched him silently. Not searching or assessing, simply taking in the sight of his face in front of hers. Her brows were pinched slightly, but her gaze was soft.

He shifted his shoulders a little to face her more, and though he couldn't quite tell if he was directly meeting her eyes, he still looked down and away.

"Did anything else happen?" he asked quietly. "Before you found me?"

There was a moment's hesitation. That alone told him the answer was yes.

"Since you're asking," Hild murmured, glancing off briefly. "The matter of...the aforementioned neighbors..."

That wasn't exactly the direction he was expecting her answer to go, but he did raise his eyebrows.

"What about them?" he asked.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as she seemed to pick her next words carefully.

"It turns out," she said slowly, "that they were-- I believe they were your family."

James looked back up, staring at her.

There was a tense beat of silence.

"What?" He blinked.

Hild bit her lip. "Jane and Larrel?"

James's stare went through her.

He'd never told her their names. He hadn't told anyone his sister's name, never mind said it out loud in... in years.

He didn't know what to do with this information. It started spinning around in his mind, incomplete, with no conclusion.

She'd... met his family? Was she sure? How could she be sure? What were the odds, even?

"It-- it must've been-- it couldn't have---" he stuttered under his breath.

His mind flew back to King's Peak, underground, beneath the palace. Carter was looming over him as James lay on the table, bound, and unable to move. And it was there that heard of his family for the first time in over five years.

Carter told them James was alive. And that he was going to be executed. But only one of those things held true.

A sickening realization started to sink in.

His family.

James wasn't there to see the consequences, but if his family knew, now, even the slightest about him and what Carter was trying to cover up in the first place, that made them a liability.

That meant they could be in danger.

Eyes growing misty, he blinked rapidly in an attempt to push back the oncoming wave of guilt. But this guilt came even heavier than the guilt he carried before.

It split his mind and his heart in two different directions.

He had friends who cared for him here.

Hild. Caspar. Lyall, Bo, Mel, Raj...

But if his family's lives were at all at risk because of his disappearance, he didn't think he could bear the thought. Something inside of him started screaming - against all his better instincts - to go back.

Maybe if he ran back into the noose, they'd be spared. Maybe Carter would leave them alone. But what if it was too late? What if they'd set into motion things that couldn't be undone?

James felt the build-up of hot tears break, and they started falling down the side of his face. Hild was blurred out of focus, and James was at a loss for words.

Tentatively, Hild gingerly brushed her thumb over his cheek. She stayed quiet. James let out a soft cry as he closed his eyes and tilted his head down.

Quietly, tears streaked down his face as his chest ached deeply. Despite his pain and exhaustion - or rather, maybe because of it - the tears were subdued, held back by a wall of dread.

"Are you sure?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse and wobbly.

The breath Hild let out was shaky. "She was addressed...as Jane Rikk, née Hawke."

James brought his hand up to his face, brows pinched together tightly.

That was her. That was his mother.

He hated that it was happening this way. That he didn't even get to see them. That they were now in danger. That they were apparently neighbors with the man who'd tortured him - of all the people in King's Peak. He hated the thought that Aaron's placement - as a mage, reintegrated into the city under a new guise with the help of the kingdom - was probably placed there deliberately. By Carter.

And it probably all worked out just like Carter was hoping it would, until Hild, Caspar, and the rest of them got in the way.

"Gods," he mumbled bitterly under the shield of his hand. "They're... they were supposed to be there. For my execution."

Hild remained silent for a moment, her hand gentle and warm on his face. Only just audible, as if thinking out loud more than anything, she eventually said, "We need to go back."

"I don't know what he'll do to them," James whispered back. "They were supposed to watch me die. Now they could-- they could die because of me."

And it would all be his fault. Not just because he got caught. Not just because he got himself wanted five years ago. It was all because he left them in the first place.

Cupping his face in both hands now, Hild said, "I'll talk with Bo and Mel. They can help us think of something, to help your family."

"They've already put themselves at risk to save me," James said, finally pulling his hand away from his eyes. Hild was but a blurry shape in front of him. "I couldn't..."

"I'm sure they'd want to help if they knew," Hild said gently.

Though his heart twisted with guilt, he couldn't muster up a retort. Closing his eyes once again, he leaned his face into one of Hild's palms, feeling where his tears met her hand.

"Even if they're fine," James said, barely audible. "They would've been better off never knowing I was still alive."

Now it was just like he was abandoning them all over again.

Hild hesitated. "Maybe, maybe not," she said honestly, "I couldn't say. But...they could feel relieved? Just to know something."

The guilt only stung sharper and ached deeper. Pinching his eyes shut tight, his lower lip trembled. It had been a while since he'd let himself feel the pain of his own foolish, fateful decision as a child. And it had been a while since he heard Carter's words in his head, calling back to a moment when they were still friends and acted like it.

"Come on, James," Carter said softly. He was fourteen at the time. James was twelve. He'd run off to hide under a tree to cry after another student made fun of him for being an 'orphan.'

Though kids thought the insult rang true, the emotions that welled up weren't for family members long dead, but for ones still alive.

Curled up in a ball at the base of a tall pine, James had aimed to make himself small. But Carter knew the places he would normally hide.

He's sat down beside James and put an arm around his shoulders.

"You told me yourself," Carter said softly. "It's for the best. Right?"

Tearfully, James had nodded.

"You get a new start, and your family gets to go on without you being a burden on them," Carter said. "And besides, there's no point in staying upset about it. You did choose this, you know. And your life is a lot better, now. No family drama, no worries about money or food. Just school and fighting. And who knows, the way things are going for you, you might be a captain someday."

Then, Carter's words had been like a numbing agent. They didn't ease the pain, but they didn't make it worse, either. But now, they were like salt, poured into a fresh open wound. Burning, like his tears.

Would they be relieved just to know something? Or would they just be burdened with grief all over again?

"I'm sorry," James croaked out. He didn't even know what all he was apologizing for.

All of it. Everything. All the pain he put everyone through just because of two stupid life decisions he could never take back.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time, unable to keep back the flood of fresh tears that hit him.

Curling inward, he gently started to weep.

With her hand still holding his face, Hild reached with her other hand and brushed some of his hair back as she quietly lay there with him.

The tears were not violent, nor were his cries loud or overwhelming. He cried quietly, his bodily frame too tired and his emotions too spent to give anything more. His shoulders shuddered slightly with each small sob, but it didn't take long for the tears to drain him.

Falling silent, his chest still ached, like a knot wound up too tight. There was a weight in his gut that was unmovable, and his eyes already dried out.

Sniffing softly, he eventually pulled his arms around himself, trying to will the ache away.

Of course, it didn't work.

"Hild," he said, his voice shaking, though he tried to control it. "I don't think you'd--"

His throat knotted. He swallowed it down.

"When we first met," he said. "I told you I don't like to talk about my family."

"We don't have to," Hild said softly.

"But if-- if something happens to them-- or if-- what do you think Bo and Mel would do? How could they even help them? And what if-- I don't know how I could I even face them again?"

His thoughts were running together as every worry collided with the other.

"What if they-- if they die? Or if they are offered the chance to-- to leave but-- they have no reason to-- and why should they? I ruined their lives all because-- because--"

He snapped his eyes shut, frowning deeply as he felt every emotion and worry tied to his family heap up at the forefront of his mind, mingling into an incomprehensible mess.

What was he doing?

He was falling apart, and he had to pull himself together. But he could barely form a full, comprehensible sentence.

Hild stayed quiet for a moment.

"Nothing is certain right now," she said. "The only thing I can promise you is that we will help you and your family as best we can."

James nodded weakly, his cheek rubbing gently against her hand.

He was thinking of every possible unknown, and it was breaking him. He couldn't possibly be of any help to his family. Even if his head was clear, his body was barely functional.

It was best to leave it in the hands of others. Hild was right. She usually was.

"Alright," was all he could think to say in response.

"Alright," she echoed with a gentle smile.

Thoughts dogpiled beyond the point of expression, James found himself unable to express anything else in response. At least, not in words.

Looking up to meet Hild's eyes - or what he could make out of them - his tired eyes softened, and he reached over to mirror her, placing his hand on her cheek in return.

It was him trying to say thank you. She smiled again, warmly, in turn.

Tilting her head until her curls brushed his temple, Hild settled just a little closer and let her eyes drift shut.

Though James normally didn't welcome this closeness in proximity, Hild's warmth and the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek seemed to help bring him back to the present. If even for just a moment.

The storm still raged on in his mind, but he closed his eyes as well, focusing on her breathing. Trying to match it.

The steady out, the steady in.

Breathe out, breathe in. Breathe out, breathe in.

Eventually, the deafening hum of his worries started to fade, and slowly, he began to drift off again. Sleep pulled him away gingerly this time, like a wave catching, and gradually pulling him in from the shore.

The sun wasn't quite up yet, but it was just light enough to make out the faint shapes of the forest floor.

With a small pile of wood already chopped up and set aside, Caspar propped up another log. Readied his feet, and kept his aim steady. The wedge of the axe split through it with a crack.

His shoulder twinged when he straightened, and there was a dull ache in his chest when he breathed in. He set up one of the halves, though, and took aim again. They were running low, the new pile was still small, and a festering anger was still building in his gut.

With each stroke, Caspar reminded himself that James was safe with them now. King's Peak was behind them.

Each swing aggravated the shrapnel in his shoulder.

Every crack of a splitting log caused a pang in his chest, and the moments he lost James to Carter would rush him again, and that only served to fuel the silent, heated rage.

He hated Carter for everything he ruined in James's life, as well as countless others' lives for so much as an affiliation with magic.

He hated Aaron for the depth of horrific hurt he inflicted on James, for the facade of respectability as he actively lied to his family about it.

He hated himself. He kept letting his guard down, missing things.

How many times had he nearly lost James at this point?

That look of shock and horror in James's eyes when Carter ambushed them. It was undeniably Carter's fault, but Caspar felt he shouldered blame for it too. He was the cause of that hurt. That look of terror haunted him nightly, every time he tore open the coffin.

How many other people had he let down because he simply wasn't enough, could never fill the roles people needed him to?

He felt hollow now, his momentum lost.

Stepping back to catch his breath, he looked up. The top of the sun peered through the trees.

"Caspar?"

The trees rustled behind him. When he turned, he saw Mel peering out from her thick scarf wrapped around her neck and the lower half of her face. Her hat was pulled down low too, over her eyebrows.

With her mittened hands stuffed in her coat pockets, she still managed to look cold.

"Almost done?" she asked, her voice muffled behind the scarf.

He glanced at the wood pile, which had grown exponentially since he last checked.

"I think so," he said, slightly winded.

"Do you want help bringing it back to camp?" Mel asked. She bounced on her feet, like she was trying to keep moving to stay warm.

Caspar couldn't help but grin just a little. "I'm not opposed to help."

"Great," Mel said, waddling over, all bundled up.

Sheathing the axe and hanging it on his belt, Caspar stacked some of the wood and held it out to her. "This should be enough to get breakfast started."

Eagerly, she scooped it up in her arms.

"Perfect," she said, tilting her chin up out of the scarf to reveal a bright, toothy smile. "You've got the rest?"

He felt himself smile a little too, and maybe a slight rush of heat in his face and ears.

He quickly bent down and began piling what remained under one arm. "I'll be right behind you."

With a nod, she tucked her face back behind her scarf as she turned around, taking hurried steps back towards camp.

He lingered for a moment, trying to roll the stiffness out of his shoulder. Then hoisted the rest onto his shoulder and followed after Mel.

Back at camp, Lyall was quick to help arrange the logs and light a fire. While everyone gathered around the flame for warmth, Caspar stepped around to the back of the wagon to load up the rest of the wood.

James and Hild asleep in the back gave him pause.

Caspar blinked.

Were they hugging?

He glanced off and looked around, unsure now of how to proceed.

"Hey," Lyall said, suddenly behind him, "you okay? Mel said--"

Whipping around, Caspar answered, "Yup, all good. Say, could you--"

He hastily handed off some of the wood tucked under his arm, and Lyall stuck out both arms to catch most of it.

"--take this over there, in case the fire burns faster than anticipated?"

Before Lyall could even think to say anything, Caspar nudged him along, away from the wagon. Though he cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder at him, Lyall didn't argue.

They unloaded the wood off to the side, and settled around the fire with everyone else.

Caspar kept his eyes averted and his focus turned to the conversations around them. Hearing their voices, but not quite listening to their words. He felt Lyall's stare fixed on the side of his head.

Eventually, Lyall sat directly next to his left. Keeping his gaze trained on the fire in front of them, Caspar drew up his legs and loosely wrapped his arms around his knees.

Gradually, as the intent silence between them drew on, Caspar felt himself lose any sense of focus to the flames.

"Mel said you seemed slightly off," Lyall said, quickly grounding Caspar in the present again. "I'm inclined to agree."

Caspar glanced around camp and mumbled, "M'fine."

Lyall hummed. "Convincing, truly."

Curling into himself a little more, Caspar stacked his arms on his knees and rested his chin on top.

He didn't want to dig into anything right now. Or ever, frankly, but especially not now with everyone else within earshot.

Though...though pretty much everyone already knew he was barely holding himself together most of the time.

With a sigh, Lyall gently leaned sideways on Caspar's shoulder. His warmth was silent support.

Caspar looked around again, scanning the faces of good friends.

He wasn't prideful. He couldn't care less about his own reputation. He just wanted them to think him capable, at the very least, able to pull his own weight.

Breakfast was soon ready. Hild joined them in time to eat.

Still leaning on Caspar's side, Lyall offered her a very pointed, "Good morning." Her curtly returned, "Morning," very well communicated 'back off'. With a put-off tsk, Lyall resignedly rested his head on Caspar's shoulder.

With measured, determined-sounding steps, Hild made her way around the group and quietly greeted Bo. He flashed her a tired but warm smile. The smile she mustered in turn was small and brief. She stood stiff with her hands folded, the way she usually did when she's preparing to deliver news of some kind.

As she took a seat beside Bo, Hild kept her voice low. Caspar faintly heard mention of someone's family. She wasn't specific. Then he tried turning his focus back to more open conversations around them.

"If it gets any colder, I'll be seeing my breath," Mel muttered as she held her bowl close, like she was trying to soak in its heat.

"I could knit you another hat," Raj suggested.

"You could wear two hats," Robin added.

"At once?" Mel asked with her brows pinched together.

"Yes," Robin said matter-of-factly, entirely serious.

Raj and Mel exchanged a look before they both shrugged in unison.

"I should make you a hat with wolf ears," Raj said with a smirk, looking at Robin.

"That's just rude," Robin chuffed. "I already have wolf ears."

"Would you rather have a hat with human ears?" Raj asked with a brow raised.

"Please don't," Mel said with a muffled laugh.

"What's wrong with a regular hat?" Robin pushed back.

"Ears are cute," Raj said plainly.

Robin simply stared at Raj with a flat, dead-eyed stare. He then looked away with a shake of his head.

"Humans never cease to confuse me," he muttered.

"It'll start getting too cold for that bald head of yours," Raj said, though more like a declaration to himself. "I'll make you a hat."

Robin just scoffed before he scooped a big spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

"And another one for me," Mel added. "A thinner one. So I can layer."

"Any other requests while you're at it?" Raj asked, looking around the fire at Lyall and Caspar, like it was an open question.

Lilya stuck her hand straight up into the air. "Can I have an ear hat?"

"Of course," Raj said with a smile.

She smiled brightly and declared, "I'll be a woof like you, Uncle Robin."

Robin froze for a moment, eyes flicking around at everyone as if he felt the pressure to respond. Something in his eyes softened when he looked at Lilya, though, in a way he only ever seemed to relax around her.

"Well, if you have the ears for it, I'll have to show you how to do a real wolf's howl, soon," Robin said. "You're about the age for it."

Lilya nodded with a look of determination. "I'm gonna be a woof," she whispered.

"One of the best wolves around, I'm sure," Robin said with an awkward smile.

Caspar was fairly sure this was the first full smile he'd ever seen from Robin. Though it didn't seem very natural, there was some sincerity in it all the same.

Lilya always seemed to read Robin's sincerity either way.

Scooping her oatmeal the way Robin did, Lilya started to say something with her mouth full. Per Lyall's gentle urging, she chewed more and swallowed, then tried again, "Uncle Raj, Cassie doesn't have a hat yet."

"You know, you're right," Raj said, turning his attention to Caspar. He squinted at him for a moment, then nodded to himself. "Bear ears."

Caspar blinked.

"Oh my gods," Mel chuckled.

"Vindication," Robin said under his breath.

"That would be adorable," Mel said, giggling.

Raj simply smiled with self-satisfaction as he returned his attention to eating.

Lyall next to him bent over, stifling laughter. With a slight, frankly helpless grin, Caspar could only shrug, the decision seemingly already made without him.

"You should just make ear hats for everyone," Mel said, still giggling. "It would be cute. We'd all be matching."

"What animal ears do you think I'd have?" Raj asked.

Mel's giggles let up as she paused to seriously consider his question, pursing her lips as she looked at him in thought.

"Try a badger," Caspar said, "with the stripes?"

"Yes!" Mel agreed enthusiastically. "With the black and white striped pattern."

Raj let out a small laugh through his nose, raising a brow at Caspar.

"I guess I deserve that for being so on the nose with Robin," he said.

"Correct," Robin interjected quickly.

That just made Raj laugh again.

"What about me?" Mel asked with a little grin.

Raj hummed.

"Do you want to be a badger too?" he asked.

"I'm not opposed to it," Mel said. "I do think the hat would look nice."

Tilting his head, Caspar quietly considered her for a moment.

If they wanted to be technical about it, a badger would fit by virtue of her and Raj being siblings.

Though, per distinguishing traits such as thoughtfulness and companionship, floppy dog ears may be well-suited as well.

"You're all overthinking it," Robin said. "She's obviously a mother bear. Or a hen, but hens don't have ears. At least, not ones you can imitate on hats."

Mel hummed, and then shrugged.

"I accept that assessment," she said.

Caspar felt an elbow nudge his side. He refused to face Lyall's likely pointed look.

As a small jab back at him, Caspar was about to suggest perhaps a sort of rodent for Lyall.

A chilling, anguished scream cut through the air, immediately hushing everyone to silence. The cry echoed out into the cool autumn air, and as all heads turned to the source, it clearly came from the wagon.

James.

Abandoning the conversation in an instant, Caspar jumped up and ran. He lept into the wagon, but paused standing at the end, not wanting to startle by approaching too quickly.

James was ripping away his clothes. He'd thrown off his jacket, and was frantically tearing off bandaging. Nearly hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face, and hands trembling, James sat upright with torn bandages in his fists.

He'd exposed most of his upped body, and several of his still-healing wounds looked irritated, like he might've scratched them.

"James, just breathe for me, okay?" Caspar said, keeping his voice steady. He took a step closer. "We're with friends now, outside of the city."

Panting, James stared down at his own hands, bleary-eyed and unfocused. His glasses had been thrown to the other side of the wagon, likely in his sleep, but looked to be intact. Kneeling down, Caspar pocketed the glasses.

Clenching his fists, James curled forward into a ball. As he hugged himself tighter, he started taking in deeper, shaky breaths. Caspar watched as James deliberately seemed to unclench his fists, uncurling his fingers to stretch them out again.

"That's good," Caspar said gently, "nice and easy. We're okay."

Still curled up, James gradually started to breathe slower, but it was taking some time.

Behind him, Caspar was vaguely aware of Lyall standing back for the moment.

Staying low to the floor of the wagon, Caspar slowly closed the distance between them. He murmured soft reassurances as he approached.

As he got closer, he could hear the faintest sound of what at first sounded like quiet mumbling, but then turned to weeping.

With a deep frown, Caspar hovered a hand over James's shoulder.

"You're safe now," he said softly, "we're okay."

James's shoulder's started to shake as his breaths slowed but became more jagged with each cry. He started to attempt to wipe at his eyes, but his movements were uncoordinated and sloppy. Without meaning to, he wiped his face on an open wound on his arm, and he hissed. Pulling the arm away, he wobbled, but shot that arm down to steady himself.

Still with shaky breath, he looked up with tear-filled eyes, but he looked out, seemingly through Lyall.

Withdrawing his hand before ever touching, Caspar took the glasses from his pocket. He bent sideways a little, trying to catch James's attention, as he gently asked, "Can you look at you me, bud?"

James hesitated, and he slowly turned his face to Caspar, but looked down, not meeting his eyes.

Tilting his head sideways, Caspar attempted to stay in view. "You with us right now?" he murmured.

As James was unresponsive, Caspar felt like he got his answer.

"Alright..." Caspar said quietly.

Glancing sideways, he set the glasses on top of a box and picked up the thrown-off coat.

Holding it up, Caspar said, "It's pretty cold today," and moved to sit beside him.

James pinched his eyes shut and nodded, though it was unclear if it was in response to Caspar. His head bobbed ever so slightly as he turned his face away and ducked his head down into his arms, hugging himself a little tighter.

Caspar draped the coat and one of the blankets around James.

A short distance away from the wagon, Lyall paced idly.

Feeling compelled to do more but unsure of what, Caspar sat quietly with his hands tucked under his arms.

It really was quite cold out. Just the coat and one blanket was insufficient, but he decided against drawing any closer.

He didn't keep track of the silent minutes as they passed.

"I'm sorry," he heard James croak out from behind his arms. His voice sounded hoarse.

"You're okay," Caspar said softly.

A small pause.

"Everyone heard me... right?" James asked quietly.

Caspar blinked. "Well, sure. But there's nothing to apologize for."

James lifted his head, but immediately ran his hands over his face, wiping his eyes quickly.

"Sure," he muttered. "Sure."

Caspar quickly scanned the wagon, trying to locate one of their canteens. "Need a drink? Water, I mean."

"Sure," James said again, mumbling.

Leaning forward to look around the boxes, Caspar quietly went, "Aha," as he grabbed one of several canteens tucked away between the crates. With some lingering stiffness, he sat back again, uncapped the canteen, and held it out to James.

James had to visibly pry his arms away from himself, and he reached out with an unsteady hand, gingerly taking the canteen. Carefully, he took a deep drink and handed it back to Caspar.

Caspar twisted the cap back on, then simply set the canteen on his lap and folded his hands around it.

"It's cold," James said faintly, like he was only just realizing it. He looked down at himself with a brief look of bewilderment, then realization. Head sinking down between his shoulders, he hastily pulled the blanket around himself to cover himself up.

Caspar nodded and reached sideways for the glasses again. "I think Lyall's got to check you over real quick, then you can hunker down again."

James looked up, eyes searching for Lyall until he paced into view. Swallowing thickly, James offered him a small nod of acknowledgement. Lyall waved back.

"Right," James said quietly. "That."

"I'll just. Pop out, then," Caspar said as he offered James his glasses back.

He reached out of the blankets and took them, placing them back on his nose.

Caspar offered a small smile and nod.

With the aid of his glasses, James was finally able to meet his eyes, though only briefly. He nodded in return.

Smile fading, Caspar nodded once more and quietly saw himself out.

With a quick pat to his arm as they passed, Lyall then hopped up into the wagon.

Unneeded now and appetite lost, Caspar wandered a small ways away from the campfire.

Lyall soon returned. Everyone finished with breakfast and broke camp.

As he assisted with stamping out the fire, Caspar caught mention of King's Peak between Bo and Hild. Raj and Robin seemed to have joined the discussion by this point.

Picking up the unused firewood, Caspar turned away and piled it in the back of the wagon.

Lilya seized the moment that he stood by the wagon and tried clambering up Caspar's back. Though at first startled, he laughed when she only climbed as far as his hip. Taking her by her hands, he swung her up. He offered Cy similar assistance; she took a moment of weighing her options before agreeing eventually.

As he greeted and mounted Eir, Caspar briefly watched as Hild inclined her head with a quiet 'thank you', and Bo patted her shoulder with a smile and warm 'of course' in reply.

Everyone got into place, and they started forward again.

They traveled mostly in near silence, per the norm. Any conversations that were had were usually on the quieter side.

Toward the back of the group, Caspar kept his ears tilted out to the forest behind them.

He spotted a finch in the trees at one point, but was resigned to wait until their next break to record it.

The first leg for the day went without a hitch. After lunch, though, Lilya began to grow irritable from the long hours of travel. Games didn't hold her attention like usual. She bounced around the wagon restlessly, despite Lyall's best efforts to calm her.

As noon wore on, Cy reached her limit too. Tucked into a corner of the wagon, she withdrew into herself and was crabby whenever addressed.

Suspecting she simply needed space, away from her sister, Caspar offered that she ride with him for a little bit. Cy accepted eagerly, waving off her father's warnings that riding on a horse might not be the most comfortable.

Settled in front on the saddle, she truly didn't seem to mind. Leaning back on Caspar, she even managed to snag about an hour of sleep as they rode.

Lilya eventually crashed too, to Lyall's relief.

Caspar could only observe with sympathy. Travel was exhausting as it was. Clocking in the hours as they'd been was especially hard on kids.

It wasn't often that the girls broke down like this. They were troopers for holding up for as well and as long as they had.

Once they were rested, their moods seemed to reset, and the miles passed by more peacefully.

Their journey went well into the evening. Bo said that the safehouse wasn't much farther from there, and everyone agreed they ought to just forge ahead, into the dark. Cover that last bit of ground, since they were so close.

The silhouette of a small house came into view. As they drew nearer with a lit lantern hanging from the wagon, it seemed to be more climbing vines than an actual building at first glance. They came around to the front, where it was a little less overgrown (but weathered and unused just the same).

The instant the wagon pulled to a stop, Lilya hopped out and promptly ran about in wide circles in front of the house, declaring, "The dragon has landed!" as she flapped her arms.

Bo hopped off the wagon, flapping his arms before he hit the ground.

"So has the bird," he said.

"I'm a dragon who eats birds!" Lilya said as she tackled his legs.

Bo laughed and picked her up, lifting her in the air like he was helping her to "fly."

"Oh no! The dragon's coming for me!" he exclaimed.

Between bouts of giggles, Lilya stuck her arms out and roared as ferociously as she could.

After dismounting, Caspar stepped around to the back of the wagon. Before he could offer any help with anything, Lyall perched on the edge and flopped forward with his head resting on Caspar's shoulder.

Huffing a laugh, Caspar ruffled Lyall's hair and said, "Why don't you set up inside? I'll help out here."

With a slow nod, Lyall slid off, slung a few bags over his shoulder, and beckoned Cy along. When Cy stood on the edge waiting, Caspar took her outstretched hands and swung her down to the ground. Then she followed closely at Lyall's heels.

Caspar then hauled himself up.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked as he quietly crossed the length of the wagon.

There was no response.

Caspar paused, and simply stood staring down at the mound of blankets for a minute. Then he knelt down.

Ah. James was already a step ahead and asleep.

Caspar wasn't sure whether to wake him first, or try his luck and just carry him inside with as little disturbance as possible.

"James," he tried, keeping his voice low but loud enough to be heard, "safehouse. And. It's actually a house this time."

James didn't move, or show any signs of wakefulness. His mouth hung slightly agape, and Caspar noticed there was a trail of drool going down the side of his chin, stuck to his beard.

"Alrighty," Caspar murmured. "We'll just..."

Carefully, he tucked a hand under James's shoulder, then waited for any sort of reaction. Nothing. Just more steady breathing.

Exhaling through his nose, Caspar slid his other hand under James's legs. Another quick pause. James's head dipped back, causing his mouth to hang open wider, but he was still out cold.

With a nod, Caspar then lifted him up. Slowly, trying not to jostle him, then hesitated at the edge of the wagon.

Hm.

He scanned the crates around them. Poking at a few with his foot, he pinpointed a box that was fairly quiet and likely not filled with food items, and nudged it out onto the ground.

It made for a decent step down, not such a drop from here to there. Caspar did land on the ground a little heavier than intended.

The moment his foot landed, James jolted. His arms pushed against the blankets tucked around him, but he wasn't able to reach out, as he was, for all intents and purposes, basically swaddled. His eyes shot open and he took in a sharp breath as he briefly tried to kick and flail away the blanket's restraints, but was unsuccessful. Caspar had to widen his stance and adjust his center of balance to keep from falling over entirely.

He looked up at Caspar tense, with wide eyes, and blinked rapidly. He glanced down at the ground.

"This is becoming too regular of an occurance," he said.

Feeling rather guilty, Caspar grimaced a little. "Sorry. Just. Safehouse. Moving inside now, won't take long."

"I is it far?" James asked. "I can... I should be able to walk."

Caspar nodded. "Uh, sure. Yeah. Of course."

So he set James on his feet.

He faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered as he steadied his feet and collected the overflow of blankets around his shoulders into his arms. It was clear that his movements were stiff - likely from being "bed-ridden" for a few days - and his posture lacked the steady strength Caspar once knew. Still, James seemed determined to be on his feet.

It was good, seeing him at least upright again.

Holding the bundle of blankets close, James walked around the wagon with slow steps. Though not wanting to appear like he was hovering, Caspar kept close beside him.

James wasn't moving fast, but he did manage to make it to the front of the cottage just fine. But by the time he made it that far, his appearance had caught everyone else's attention. Bo had already gone inside with Cy and Lilya, and Raj and Mel had taken the horses around the side of the building, but Hild was still by the door sorting through necessities, and Lyall argued next to her what they will and won't immediately need inside.

Necessities forgotten in an instant, Hild side-stepped the box and her brother to greet them. Though visibly exhausted, her small smile was warm, and her brows pinched a little with some concern.

"I'm fine," James assured her as he walked up.

"He's fine, Hild," Lyall echoed.

Hild elbowed her brother's side. Lyall just waved her off with a weary yet bright grin. Shouldering a couple more bags, he swept an arm toward the door and bowed slightly at the waist.

"After you, fine sir," he said grandly.

James dipped his head and followed the movement of Lyall's arm, stepping through the door.

Taking the box that they'd been sorting through, Caspar ducked in after Lyall and Hild.

Candles inside were already lit. The girls were nowhere in sight, likely in the room off to the side.

The living space was modestly filled. There were three chairs angled around a circular table. One of the chairs looked tilty-- Caspar made a mental note to look into it. A low woodstove was set along the inside wall, in the center of the house. And in the corner beyond it stood some sparsely-stocked cabinets.

It was modest, but several solid steps up from his one-roomed cabin in the wilds.

While Lyall directed James to the table, Caspar carried the box into what he assumed was the bedroom through the next door over.

Cy was curled up in bed already-- one of the bottom bunks. Lilya at first glance was nowhere to be found. Caspar followed the sounds of soft snoring below Cy's bunk, though, and glimpsed a small hand and foot sticking out from under the bed.

Setting the box aside, Caspar knelt down, and coaxed a sleepy Lilya out and properly into bed with Cy. She immediately flung out all her limbs again. Disgruntled by her sister's arm, Cy curled up smaller.

Caspar better-situated Lilya to give them both enough space. When he quickly kissed each on the forehead, both girls mumbled a, "Night, Cassie," in response and were fast asleep again. He smiled fondly, heart warm, and straightened--

And promptly bumped his head on the upper bunk. With a muttered curse, Caspar leaned on the bedpost and took stock of the room.

Two sets of bunks.

That was fine, he'll just take the floor.

Caspar wandered back out into the living space, feet dragging a little heavier than before.

Hild flitted about the room, aggressively wiping down surfaces with a damp cloth. Disrupted dust particles in the air were quite visible actually, even in the dim candlelight. She sneezed, but carried on, determined.

Taking a seat by James at the table, Caspar listened for a moment as Bo and Lyall went through the cabinets. Their back and forth was still somehow energetic, despite the late hour and the long day of travel behind them.

Caspar folded his arms on the table and rested his head sideways on top of them.

James was staring out into the room, but turned to Caspar, making eye contact. It appeared to be accidental, though, as he dropped his eyes downward.

"You should probably get some rest soon," James said.

Caspar blinked.

"Yeah," he murmured, slowly straightening again. "Probably soon."

There was a pause, and Bo and Lyall's chatter on the other side of the room filled the silence.

"Elliot's... doing well with Raj, it looks like," James said slowly.

"I think so," Caspar agreed quietly. "Elliot's, uh, just good like that in general. Friendly sort."

"Yeah," James said softly. "He is."

He fell silent as he looked down at the floor. Though his face since they'd found him seemed perpetually worn and weary, Caspar could catch the look of sadness in his eyes.

"He'll be real excited to see you tomorrow, though," Caspar added.

James nodded slightly.

"Right," he said distantly.

Caspar leaned back in his chair, then glanced down at it when it wobbled. He tilted it forward again, experimentally.

"We were discussing ear hats earlier."

James blinked, then flashed Caspar a look of confusion.

"Like ear muffs?" he asked.

"Like. Hats. But with animal ears," Caspar clarified, realizing that. Perhaps context was necessary.

"Ah," James said with a nod as his eyes flicked around the room. His mind seemed to be visually piecing things together. "Like the hats Raj made for Cy and Lilya."

"Yeah. Those."

"What, um," James started, then started over again. "What about them?"

"It was." Caspar scratched behind his ear. "Hypotheticals? Um. Personality matching, loosely. You and Hild weren't there for it, so."

This felt stupid, but he was committed now.

"What do you suppose would best fit you two?"

Something in James's expression relaxed a little, and there was a hint of a smile in his eyes as he looked off to the side in thought.

"Cat ears for Hild," he said fondly, lips tugging for a smile that didn't fully show.

Caspar glanced Hild's way.

She kept her back turned toward them. Shooing with both hands at Lyall, she nudged her way to the cabinets and began dusting them off too.

Caspar nodded. "Yeah, I see that."

"I'm not sure for myself, though," James said, tilting his head to the side. "I would go for the easy joke and say a hawk, but I don't know how that would translate to a hat."

Caspar hummed. "I think... that would just require a hole on each side? If we want to be technical about it."

"That sounds counter intuitive," James said. "For a hat's purpose."

"It won't..." Caspar shrugged. "...inhibit hearing as much?"

James paused, looking off to the side in thought.

"That would be helpful for me, I suppose," he said softly.

Caspar grinned, albeit a little weakly.

"Maybe instead of a hat Raj could just make me wings," James said. "Not in actuality, of course. That'd be a lot of work with no practical purpose."

Caspar huffed a laugh as he tried imagining it. "Like arm warmers?"

James shrugged. "Maybe. Or just... wings sewn onto the back of a jacket. Either way, they'd be nonfunctional. And I do wonder... well, we haven't run into any harpies, but I think I'd feel a little strange wearing fake wings when there are real winged people out there."

Caspar hummed. "You know, a hat's still an option. Could just tack the wings onto that."

"And look ridiculous with wings on my head," James said with the faintest hint of a smile. It looked as if he was too drained to do so.

"Hey, don't underestimate the power of a skillful knitter," Bo interjected, setting a crate of dried fruits and canned vegetables onto the table. "Raj could make it look nice, I think."

"There are always other animals," James said. "He could just... pick a dog, or something."

At that moment, Raj and Robin entered into the cottage's main room, with Raj shutting the door behind them. They both had some wood in their arms, and Raj carried it over to the stove.

"Area's clear," Robin said simply. "At least, for now."

"Realistic optimism," Bo said with a nod.

Meanwhile, Raj waved Lyall over as he loaded the stove with wood. Rubbing his hands together, Lyall held a steady flame inside the stove until it caught. Shutting the furnace door, they backed away as the fire began to eat at the wood.

The cottage was chilly. The day had only gotten colder after sunset, and the cool air had been sitting stagnant and undisturbed until they all piled into the cottage.

"Well, I think we could all use a good night's sleep," Bo said. "Hild, you can join Mel and the girls in the bedroom. And there should be a lower bunk left for James. There should be room on the floor for you in there, Lyall, and I think the rest of us can make do in here."

Having gathered blankets and pillows, Lyall was already padding into the bedroom. Over his shoulder, he replied, "A sound arrangement, chief," and disappeared around the doorway.

Robin was quick to shift to his wolven form and retreated to the corner of the room, curling up in a ball. Raj, too, quietly laid his blankets out on the floor and was quick to lie down.

Bo, however, lingered by the table.

"I know you've been sleeping a lot as it is," Bo said. "But I think it'll be nice for you to get some rest on a real bed."

With a nod of his head to the bedroom door, Bo nonverbally seemed to give James a look to go to bed. James hesitated only for a moment as he let out a sigh, but obediently got to his feet, carrying his blankets with him. He walked slowly, in a manner comparable to a waddle, and disappeared into the room out of view.

"Hild," Bo said, turning to look at her. She'd moved from dusting to rearranging things. "We'll be here a while. We'll have plenty of time to organize. Go get some sleep."

Hild paused in the midst of picking through the boxes. She looked about ready to argue, but stayed quiet when Caspar nodded toward the bedroom door too.

Inclining her head, Hild reluctantly took her leave and padded into the room the same way her brother had.

Instead of pulling away to finally go to bed himself, Bo then turned his attention to Caspar.

"Could you help me outside with something?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

Maneuvering himself out of his seat to keep the chair from dragging on the floor, Caspar carefully got to his feet. "Sure."

Bo flashed him a small smile and turned to the door, holding it open for Caspar to step outside.

Outside, the partial moon was still enough to gently light the forest.

The wagon had been moved off to the side of the little house. Next to it, he mentally traced the silhouettes of the horses, standing covered from the cold and fast asleep.

With his hands in his pockets, Caspar listened as Bo clicked the door shut behind them.

Bo walked up beside Caspar and paused, looking up at the sky. Eye fixed on the moon, he let out a small sigh, and his breath made visible little puff of air around his nose.

"You're probably not sleeping any time soon," he said softly. "Are you?"

Caspar huffed a wry laugh and mumbled, "I'm nothing if not predictable." Glancing sideways, he then asked, quietly, "Did you really need help with something?"

Bo's mouth turned to the side in a weary little smile, and he shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"I think company counts as help," he said. "So long as you don't mind."

With a slight smile of his own, Caspar warmly answered, "I don't mind."

"Let's go for a little walk, then," Bo said, leading them away from the cottage.

They walked beside each other in silence. Caspar scanned the trees around them, and listened carefully over the gentle sounds of leaves crinkling underfoot. There was a slight breeze, almost biting here in the mountains, and a screech owl's trill in the distance, but nothing more.

Bo seemed attentive of their surroundings, but he kept flicking his gaze back up to the moon. He slowed in his steps when the trees opened overhead to give a clear view, and he stopped, gazing up at the stars.

The sky had cleared, giving them an unobstructed view of the spattering of starts across the sky next to the waxing moon.

"You know, Caspar," Bo said. "I'm really glad we picked you up back near Ruddlan."

Caspar looked from the sky back to Bo.

"I'm grateful for it too," he replied softly.

"You're a really good friend to Lyall," Bo said. "And I appreciate that. He's a good guy, but needs someone to balance him out a bit sometimes, you know? And I see how he does it for you, too. Taking turns being the anchor."

Glancing down at his shoes now, Caspar shrugged. "You've been that for him, as well. He really needed folks like you, this kind of community."

"You know you're a part of it now, too," Bo said. "Right?"

Bo turned his head away from the stars to look at Caspar.

"You're a part of the family."

Shuffling in place a little, Caspar met Bo's gaze and nodded.

This wasn't the first time they'd said. It was simply. Taking time to sink in, he supposed. Getting used to being told he belonged. It stirred something in him, but he was still hesitant.

"I know there's been a lot of uncertainty," Bo continued. "James getting caught and rescuing him was something none of us expected, and you know, it made things look a little different. But traveling like this - it's not forever. I wanted to be a little more honest with you, and actually apologize for being so cryptic. We're all trained to be very careful with the information we share and are taught to keep track of who knows what. Out of all of us, I've had to hold the most secrets. Mostly about the mages, and how we go about all of the recruiting and rescuing. The when, the where, all that. But... well, that's besides the point."

He paused and let out a small sigh as he looked back at the sky.

"I just wanted to give you some time to mentally prepare yourself for life looking very different from what you're used to when we reach our final destination," Bo said. "We're not just going to another temporary safehouse or shelter. We'll be entering a much larger community of mages. The heart of the network that ties us all together. It's the safest place in the world for anyone evading the law. For mages, or for wanted criminals..."

He paused, then added, "You know. Like yourself. 'Course, as you may be able to imagine, you're by far not the first non-mage to join the family. We've got plenty of 'mage sympathizers' who we consider friends."

Quietly, Caspar nodded again, carefully turning over every bit of information.

What first struck him was the weight of Bo's responsibilities. It sounded heavy, having to hold so many secrets with lives hanging in the balance.

Bo seemed to share the load with their group, though, and that was some comfort.

"I completely understand that we have to be careful," Caspar said, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I don't mind cryptic."

Bo smirked, huffing a laugh through his nose.

"Then you're going to love this," he said. "Because I was about to tell you that when we reach the home base, you're welcome to stay and settle down. You'll actually be able to make a life for yourself there if you want it."

Before Caspar could reply, Bo continued.

"Though, I understand that may be easier said than done. I know when you've lived a life of constant uprooting and travel, it can be really hard to put roots down anywhere. You get used to instability, and stability feels unstable. There's a bunch of mental hoops we jump through to get there, but a lot of people feel it. Especially in our community. It's worth pushing through it, though."

Caspar couldn't quite find an immediate reponse, so turned back to the stars.

He figured by this point, even isolated in the wilds with Jack, settled life just wasn't achievable for him, that it was merely an abstract concept.

Would he be able to find a place there? Be a part of something sturdy, and of that scale? He felt like he was barely managing himself in small friend groups so far.

Caspar could only nod dumbly again.

"I think you'd make a good carpenter, if you wanted," Bo said. "We could always use more people who are good at fixing and building things. Someone with an artist's mind, you know. Like yours."

Mustering a smile, Caspar simply said, "That is an option."

"Just an option," Bo said with a soft smile in return. "You've got a whole life ahead of you. No need to set it all in stone now. Just... get ready for the discovery."

Right. That wouldn't be for a while yet.

Caspar was ready to simply put off anymore thoughts pertaining to his own life right now.

Quiet and tentative, he asked, "What about you? Once we get there, will you stick around?"

"Well... my life's a bit more complicated than that," Bo said with a little laugh. "I can't make any promises to stay long-term, but I'll be in and out and back again. That's the thing about home. You may not always be there, but you always come back."

Caspar thought quietly for a moment, then asked, "How long have you been doing..."

Everything, all of it, though he wasn't sure how to succinctly yet in detail sum it all up. Lamely and with a small vague gesture, he finished, "...this."

Bo tilted his head, as he looked to Caspar.

"What, finding mages and rescuing them out of bad situations? Finding like-hearted friends along the way?" he asked.

"Yeah." Quieter and with attempted brevity, Caspar added, "If that's not...classified information."

Bo hummed, squinting out into the trees in thought.

"I do want to answer you," Bo said. "But I'm afraid that it'll take this conversation down a rabbit trail that may not be the most beneficial at the moment. So to sadly be vague, I think it'd suffice to say I've been doing this a very long time. Longer than you've been alive, so, we'll leave it at that. For now, at least."

With a grin, he patted Caspar on the shoulder and then rested his hand there.

"Don't overthink it. I've got a young face," he said.

With both brows raised, Caspar slowly nodded. "Alright."

Not the answer he anticipated.

"There is something else," Bo said. "That I wanted to talk to you about. It's about James."

Caspar blinked. They were taking a lot of unexpected turns here. "Okay."

Pulling his hand away with another pat, Bo returned his hand to his pockets and looked out into the forest.

"I don't know him very well," Bo said. "At least, not personally. But I think anyone with any amount of social awareness and discernment can tell the man's been through a lot. More than any person should, I gather."

He paused with a small, solemn sigh.

In this brief pause, Caspar silently agreed.

"His road to recovery is going to be a difficult one. I'm sure physically, he'll be able to eventually get back to some sort of normal. But we don't know what he went through in the month he was trapped with Carter. I know we were able to deduce a few things. Clearly, the kingdom's begun to use healing magic as a torture technique, where they take energy instead of giving. And obviously they didn't leave the torture to magical means, with all of the physical torture he's still recovering from as well."

Slowly, he looked to Caspar, turning his head.

"I know it's hard for you to see him in so much pain. And it's heartbreaking to see how they broke him down. But he's going to need his friends to stay in this fight with him. And I have a feeling that his journey will be a lifelong one."

A small pause.

"I have no doubts that you would give that much. I can tell you care about him like you would your own son. But I also know it can be a heavy load to bear if you take on more than you should - especially if you feel like you're in it alone. I just want you to know that you have all of us around you to pull from. For advice. Support. Help. Friendship. Company.

"I know you've been through your own story with its own pains, and I just don't want to see you drowning out your own pain by getting consumed by James's in exchange.

"And... I may be overstepping my bounds in saying that. Since I know we're not that close. But I'm just... thinking about you, you know. And I just want to let you know now that if you ever need anything. A friend, or a listening ear, or anything. You can always ask me. And I sincerely will never consider it burdensome."

Eyes turned down to the ground, Caspar searched for words. Something gripped his lungs, but nothing vice-like as with anxiety.

He'd resolutely ignored this...exchange of grief. It was glaring, though, how he let his own turmoil fall to the wayside to make room for that of others', now that Bo's words got Caspar to really face it.

When he couldn't find a response under their feet, he swallowed thickly and looked out at the trees.

"I know it's hard," Bo said. "To ask for help. Or reach out. It still feels awkward for me, sometimes. And there are moments where I still don't want to, but I know I need to. But for the longest time, I never even thought it was an option, because I was so used to having to help myself. So... I should probably stop blabbing now, but that's all. Just planting that in your brain now so you know."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Caspar finally said, "S'good, it..."

It was just really hard.

All his life, he'd tried offering his support to others, through his actions, by listening, by ignoring himself if he had to. That was easy, really.

It was hard, yet the only natural next thing as Caspar murmured in response, "Thank you, Bo."

Words came easier as he added with all the sincerity he could, "I want to offer the same to you, in turn."

Bo turned to Cas and smiled softly.

"I really appreciate that, Cas," Bo said. "I'll take you up on that sometime. Maybe when things settle down a bit."

He paused, and his smile faltered.

"Ah, speaking of," he said. "There's one last thing I mean to tell you. I know. It's a whole lot of harsh turns I'm taking, here. But... I want you in the loop."

Mentally steeling himself, Caspar nodded and said quietly, "Directness is good."

Bo nodded, taking in a short, but deep breath before continuing.

"As it turns out," Bo started. "Our mission in King's Peak is unfinished. We rescued James, but James informed Hild that Carter may be lifting the restraints he once reserved regarding James's family because of their former friendship. In other words, his family may be in danger due to his sudden and unforeseen disappearance just before his appointed execution. Apparently, Carter had made a point to summon them to the execution so they'd be there to witness it, which I believe explains the soldier who showed up on Aaron's doorstep during the dinner. And I imagine they obeyed the summons, but arrived to something very different. There really is no telling how Carter may have reacted. Considering the lengths he went to in order to personally catch James after five long years doesn't give me a lot of confidence that he would spare James's family if he thought they could be used as ransom, or something else of that nature."

Bo paused again, letting out a deep sigh as he turned his eyes to the ground this time, shoving his hands in his pockets just a little deeper.

"So we'll be sending out another team into King's Peak," Bo said. "While the rest of us camp out here and wait for them to return. I'm sending Robin and Raj with Hild. It was Hild's idea, and Robin and Raj are very experienced in rescue and reconnaissance missions. Because there are so many unknowns, I've given them loose instructions, but if in any way possible, we just want to make sure his family is safe. And if they're not, to offer them a way out, if they desire to take it."

Looking back up to the sky, Bo shuffled his feet where he stood.

"Since we've already made some distance, and the nature of this mission is even less concrete than when we rescued James, I'm giving them two weeks to get in, get out, and return to us. During that time the rest of us will stay here. It may prove more helpful for James, too, in the long term. I think the constant travel has been hindering his recovery. Lyall agrees, so I'll take his doctorly opinion as confirmation."

Turning finally to look at Caspar again, Bo offered a small smile.

"And it'll give you a chance to catch up on some sleep, I hope," he said. "However much you can, at least. All things considered."

With a faint, brief smile, Caspar nodded and glanced ahead of them, staying quiet for a moment as everything sank in.

Carter didn't strike as the very merciful type. And the fact that he knew exactly where James's family was, was not a comfort in any way.

The goal sounded straightforward enough. Hopefully Hild, Raj, and Robin would make good time, get in, then right back out, and by the end of this everyone would be safe.

Caspar nodded once more, echoing softly, "Two weeks."

"Yeah," Bo said. "It'll fly by before you know it."

James woke up with a rush of adrenaline. His mind was spinning, and he couldn't remember why he was in danger, but everything within him was screaming at him to move. To run. To fight. To do something.

His eyes shot open and he threw off the mounds of blankets smothering him. He was sweating profusely, to the point where his clothes were sticking to his skin. The room was warm. Too warm. It felt like it was burning, and as he stumbled off the side of the bed to his feet, all he could think of was that he had to find the way out.

Eyes locking onto the shadow of the doorway, he hastened forward with heavy steps. His bare feet felt like hot coals against the cool wooden floorboards, and each step sounded so loud, like the sound was reverberating off the walls.

Taking in rapid breaths, he pawed in the dark for the door handle, but reached out too soon.

Hands hitting nothing, he stumbled off balance, and fell forward into the door. There was a too-loud thump as he managed to partially catch himself, only landing on his knees. But the impact cut through the pain-numbing adrenaline and brought every wound back to attention. There was a stabbing pain in his gut, and he groaned as he cradled it with one arm, trying to use the other to balance himself against the door as he pushed himself back to his feet.

"James," Hild's voice cut through gently, "you need to come back this way."

Her voice tugged at something inside of him, like he was caught unaware, with his walls down. The fear pushing him to action got caught at the door, and for reasons he couldn't express, his eyes began to water.

"No, no," he begged. "I can't go back."

He finally found the door handle. He pushed to turn it, but a hand rested over his.

"Just to sit down for a moment, please," Hild said, now beside him.

James felt trapped. Panic shot through him, and he turned the handle, pushing against the door. He frantically stumbled through as the door flew open, scanning the room for a way out. But before he could steady himself and prepare to run, his feet tumbled over something on the floor.

"Oomph."

James rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud while the heap beside him let out a muffled groan.

The whole room was spinning, and the itch to run only grew stronger even as his body desperately protested against the thought. His gut started to ache deeply, and even as he tried to move to get up, his brows and nose pinched up. Pain shot through his gut to his legs, and he fell back onto the floor with a pitiful whimper.

A hand rested gingerly on his shoulder.

"Hey, James," Bo said, sounding groggy. "You're safe here. You're not in King's Peak anymore. You're with your friends."

Laid out on the floor, James suddenly snapped back to reality.

Eyes going wide, he attempted to scramble to his feet, but failed. He got as far as sitting up before he involuntarily hissed again, catching himself with one arm to hold himself up while he grabbed his gut with his other arm.

Bo gently took James by the shoulders and hoisted him up to his feet. James could barely register his footsteps as he was turned around and led back into the room. The world around him felt strangely immaterial as the stabbing pain in his gut became the prevailing sensation.

He was sat back down on his bed, but as footsteps receded, others drew closer.

He'd caused a scene again, hadn't he? He'd woken everyone up? It was still dark. It was night. He'd disturbed their sleep again. He wasn't just losing sleep himself. He was taking it from others, too.

"Sounded like you took a bit of a fall there," Lyall said.

A small flame lit between them as Lyall knelt in front of James, quickly looking him over.

"A couple times," he added. "You with us now?"

James, finally able to see with the light of Lyall's fire, met Lyall's eyes.

At this point, Lyall had already seen him at his worst. It wasn't like James could just pretend he wasn't falling apart at the seams, or like he wasn't constantly on the edge of something.

Swallowing hard, he looked down into his lap and nodded, too ashamed to meet either Lyall or Hild's eyes again.

"Yes," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Sorry for waking you."

Lyall only shrugged a shoulder. "Happens." He tilted his head toward Hild. "She was getting up soon, anyway."

James felt like he'd missed something.

He looked over to Hild, staring at her face, half cast in shadow from Lyall's burning flame.

"...why?" he asked quietly.

As she stepped around Lyall, Hild cuffed the back of her brother's head. Lyall just shrugged indignantly. That did not help James's confusion.

It was the middle of the night, still, right? Were they still sleeping in shifts? Was that why Hild was getting up so early?

"I can try to go back to sleep," he mumbled, feeling like he'd intruded, somehow.

"Sleep would be beneficial," Hild said gently as she perched next to him on the bed, "but you don't have to."

With a pointed look at Hild, Lyall tilted his head sideways. When she glared back at him, he nodded again more emphatically.

"I don't want to keep you two up," James interrupted, still feeling like there was something he wasn't catching on to.

"It's fine," they both answered.

"She'll be leaving for King's Peak," Lyall quickly went on, "with Robin and Raj."

James stared at Lyall.

"You--" Nostrils flaring, Hild kicked at her brother and whispered harshly, "I fully planned on saying something!"

The small flame in his hand flickered as Lyall fell out of reach and countered, "This is the kind of thing you can just rip the band-aid off of!"

Realization was sinking in with a heavy dread in his gut.

Hild was going back to King's Peak, and he didn't have to think twice as to why. There was only one thing in King's Peak to return for, and it was his family. He'd only told her a day ago, if that, about the danger they could be in. The passage of time still wasn't too clear to him, but he already knew.

Hild was risking her life again, but this time not for him, but for his family. Raj and Robin, too.

Everything in his life, always, without fail seemed to pull everyone he cared about into danger. And here it was, happening again. He put his family in danger. His friends in danger. His partner.

And what could he say to stop her? What could he say to change her mind? He knew well enough that when Hild set her mind to something, there was no changing it. Not unless he had a real, compelling argument supported by logic. And as it stood, all he had to draw from was fear.

The fear that, along with his family, and Raj, and Robin, that he'd lose her too.

And what would be the point of saving him, then? One life wasn't possibly worth all of the others in exchange.

It was a familir guilt. One that piled high, reaching far back into his childhood, all the way back to his father's death.

It was why the real reason he left in the first place.

Nodding slowly, James stared down at the floor.

"How long will you be gone?" he asked faintly, deciding to ask questions, instead of presenting arguments.

"The estimate is two weeks," Hild answered, voice softening. "I'm hoping with just three of us, we'll cover ground at a decent pace."

Two weeks was a long time when lives were in the balance. Two weeks was a very generous amount of time, too. Likely to account for unexpected troubles along the way.

He nodded again, trying not to assume the worst would occur, but still, he couldn't help the thought.

He ignored it for the time being. He tried to.

Words were not coming to him easily. He turned to look at Hild directly, as she sat beside him, and with Lyall's light more distant, he really couldn't make out the look in her eyes.

"I'll miss you," he decided to say, as it was the only thing he could think of that wasn't oozing with the sludge in his mind.

Brushing a hand to his arm, Hild replied softly, "I'll miss you too."

"Just... be careful," James said. "I know you will, but..."

"I will," she repeated. "And you'll recover more effectively here. Try not to worry the whole time."

"I'll try," James said softly.

He'd try for her. But he didn't know how successful he'd be.

There was a small smile in her voice when she said, "That's all I ask."

James nodded, still struggling to search for words to say in return.

"Thank you," he said after a small pause.

For going to see if his family was alright when she didn't have to.

He reached over and found her hand, holding it gently. But he paused and looked over to Lyall, who was still sitting on the floor, presumedly just... watching.

"I think I'm alright," James said. It was a half-truth. His gut still ached and hurt, pulsing like a heartbeat. But there wasn't much that could be done for that. It didn't feel like he was actively bleeding or dying. He was just in pain.

"You can go back to bed," James offered. "I don't want to steal more sleep from you than I already have."

Hild closed her hand around his, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm alright, Hawke."

James looked to Lyall. He wanted him to feel free to return to sleep.

After a moment's pause, Lyall's flame disappeared completely, plunging them into darkness.

"Goodnight again, then," James said softly.

There were faint sounds of shuffling around on the floor, then Lyall quietly bidding them, "Night."

James waited a moment in silence, glancing at the loosely outlined silhouette of Lyall on the floor. He doubted Lyall would fall asleep right away, but with his back turned, they had some semblance of privacy. That didn't get rid of the fact that Mel, Cy, and Lilya were also in the room, and likely stirred when he disturbed the whole house. Caspar was probably up too, undoubtedly. He wondered how many hours they had to fall back asleep, and if he'd just made it out to be a very long day for all of them.

Finally, he looked back to Hild. The former night was a blur, but he did remember resting his glasses somewhere on the side of his bed. He glanced back to where he last remembered seeing them, and thankfully, they were undisturbed.

With his free hand, he reached over and unfolded them, slipping them back on.

They didn't help with the dark too much, but at least when he looked back up at Hild, he could read her expression.

Tilting her head, Hild offered a faint smile. "It's fine, James," she insisted gently. "We'll all catch up on sleep eventually."

Eventually.

"I've... probably slept more in the past two days than I have..."

He trailed off, realizing he didn't really know how to finish that thought. Even before Carter had ambushed him, he wasn't getting full nights of sleep.

He lightly cleared his throat.

Squeezing Hild's hand, he leaned in a little closer, resting his shoulder against hers.

"What about you?" he whispered. "Are you going to stay up?"

"I hardly see the point of going back for just a couple more hours," she answered honestly.

"A couple hours," James echoed back. "Can make quite the difference."

"Perhaps," she conceded. "I ought to at least try, but..."

Lifting their joined hands, Hild pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles.

"What of you?" she asked softly. "Will you try to sleep, or do you fancy watching the sun rise?"

James mustered up all of the energy he could find to offer Hild a small smile.

"I'd like that," he said, just as quiet.

Hild's alert, poised posture relaxed now as she lightly rested her head on his shoulder. James leaned his head against hers, enjoying how perfectly her head fit in the crook of his neck and her soft hands in his. He closed his eyes, unable to drift back to sleep, but at least able to rest against her. His gut still hurt, but he was trying to do everything in his power not to ruin the moment. He wanted to cherish this. Especially if it could be his last moment with her... if he allowed himself to think the worst.

He wasn't sure how much time passed while they simply sat in silence, heads rested against each other, and fingers intertwined. But the ache in his abdomen had gradually grown more persistent, and he started to feel his body begging him to lie back down.

He wanted to ignore it. He didn't want to leave the moment as it was.

He persisted, but when light started to filter in through the singular window between the bunk beds on either wall, he felt his strength waning.

Finally, he lifted his head, stiff from staying still for so long.

"Hild," he whispered, so only she could hear.

Straightening a little, Hild hummed groggily and asked, "Are you okay?"

With the light coming, James could see that the others on the other side of the room were fast asleep. Lyall's chest rose and fell steadily under his blanket, and Cy and Lilya were still curled up beside each other. Mel was out of view on the top bunk, but the small shadow he could make out showed that she wasn't moving.

He tilted his head down to look at her. She seemed like she'd dozed off, at least a little.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I might need to lie down in a bit, though."

"Ah, yes, you should," she said faintly as she slowly disentangled.

Gently he reached out, resting his hand on Hild's arm. He didn't want her leaving just yet.

"You'll be leaving soon," he said softly. "Won't you?"

She paused at his touch. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she hummed again. "Fairly soon, yes. And I should ensure all of our travel supplies are in order. Rations, medical kit--"

She yawned, then lamely finished, "--the like."

James felt a smile in his eyes as he watched her sleepily recover from her yawn, but the tug of worry still pulled at his gut. He still didn't want to say goodbye, but he knew he would have to soon. His body told him as much.

He slowly turned his shoulders so he was facing her directly.

"Hild," James said slowly, trying to think through every word. "I know you're going back to King's Peak for my family. And I know you're aware of how great a risk it is to return."

He paused, taking in a small breath.

"I just want you to know that it means more to me than I know how to put into words... that you would do that," James said softly. "That you are doing that. For them."

Her eyes more alert again, Hild smiled, gentle and warm. "It's the right thing to do," she answered simply. "I'm glad to contribute what I can to ensure their safety."

"I know," James said softer. "But... thank you for asking in the first place. For doing what I'm not able to."

With a small bow of her head, Hild murmured, "You're welcome."

There was a small lull of silence as James simply looked down at her. The warmth of the sunlight was seeping in, hitting her skin, highlighting the slightest reddish hue of her cheeks, and the flecks in her eyes.

"Please come back to me alright," he whispered.

Her eyes softened at this. "Of course."

Swallowing down the anxiety, James found his gaze flicking down to her lips, but he quickly looked back up to her eyes.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, barely audible as he reached up to gently cup her face.

Hild stared at him for a quiet moment. Blinked once, then gave a slight nod. "You may."

His fingers slid behind her neck as he gently pulled her close and leaned in, kissing her on the lips, each second wondering if it would be both their first and their last. Time didn't seem to exist for a moment as he held Hild close, but when he finally pulled away, he could feel his cheeks were burning.

And so was his gut.

He still cupped her cheek with his hand, and though he was too afraid to tell her just how much he cared about her, he hoped that somehow, she knew.

"I wish I didn't have to say goodbye," he said softly. "But I think this might be it."

At least it wasn't forever.

Hild's face was redder than before, too. Still, she managed a reassuring smile and offered, "It's more of a...goodbye for now."

"Right," he said. "Goodbye for now."

After a quiet moment of looking-- studying him, Hild cleared her throat and sat a little straighter.

"I'll let you rest now," she said gently as she stood.

When she drew away, the bed shifted, and James wobbled, balancing himself as he shot his arms out at his sides. He'd been meaning to lie down, but just the thought of simply falling back and letting gravity take him made his gut hurt.

"Ah," he said faintly. "Right."

He was still stiff from having sat still for so long, leaning against Hild.

"Could you... help me?" he asked, barely audible.

Stepping close again, Hild helped guide him down onto his back along the length of the bed.

There was a simultaneous relief and ache that seeped through every joint of his body, as if all of the fatigue he'd been denying finally caught up to him. His body felt heavy in the bed, like he was sinking into it.

Turning to Hild, he reached out to her, though it pained him. She enveloped both hands around his.

"I'll see you soon," he said. It was his hope, and though he knew he had no assurance of it, he had to say it like it was true.

"You will," Hild said firmly.

His will to push through the pain was growing weaker. Though his fingers stayed wrapped around her hand, his arm grew slack.

He tried to muster up one last response, but his words got stuck in his head, never reaching his mouth.

I love you.

But maybe it was better that he didn't say it... for her sake. Though he hardly had time to rethink it as he found himself drifting off, and he couldn't remember when her hands left his.