Young Writers Society

"Could if anyone could survive exploration without getting eaten by our feline friend."

"Exactly." James replied, followed by a dejected sigh. He rubbed his arms to stimulate more warmth, though, the fire was burning pretty hot still.

"So... Tasha. How long have you had your animal companions?"

Inwardly he could feel that even for himself, that was a bit of a reach. A random question. He was grasping at straws, struggling at conversation, always feeling like no matter what he said, it was wrong. The question was innocent enough, and hopefully didn't pry to deep. Surface level questions were usually safe enough with strangers, but he had no way to measure when he should stop talking entirely or persevere to keep going. They were all strangers after all, and that could either mean an abundance of stories and things to learn from and about one another - to distract from the issues at hand - or it could mean that silence was the best comforter. But for him, being in solitude, he had both grown weary of silence and unaccustomed to speech, so no matter what, he would surely feel out of place, even in the present moment, asking a fairly normal question.

"I've had the dog for 20 years, the horse for 21," I answered. "Got them as a trainee. We're light cavalry, so we get mounts early. We need dogs, too, to detect and track the wolves."

"...wolves? You hunted wolves?" That would certainly explain the wolf howl from earlier.

"Not mundane wolves, 'wolf' is just what we call them. Dire wolves, worgs, and werewolves," I replied.

James raised his brows, giving a slow nod. "...Oh. They were... a common threat to your area, then?"

I nodded. "We've been at war with the Pack for thousands of years."

"Damn. And you've been a soldier fighting them for... 20? 30 years?"

"I've been fighting them since I was fifteen," I replied. "So yes, a long time." I could do the arithmetic, but math wasn't my strong suit and I didn't really want to embarrass myself by messing up the mental math.

"Wow." James let out a sigh, and looked into the fire. With his clothes finally dried, he pulled his blanket around his shoulders, wrapping himself snugly. "If..." His voice faltered, and he corrected his wording. "When... when you get out, will you just go back to that?"

I nodded. "The war must be fought. I can't very well not fight our own battles, can I? I'm one of the Hunters' - they're the main warriors that combat the Pack - leaders, so..." she pauses. "What about you? Where do you come from? What enemies do you face?"

"Ah. Yes. Well... I'm from the Moonlight Kingdom, far south. Grew up on a farm in the borderlands. Things went south from there... I... have an abundance of enemies." James closed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons of being vague, and weighing the probability of them even surviving the situation they were in, and whether it would be worth the honesty or not. "The grangor though, is definitely the biggest thus far. In... literal size, I suppose."

"I haven't fought something this big, either. That's for adventurers," I chuckled.

"Hmm. So it seems." James's reply was followed by a yawn, as he began to finally feel drowsy.

I sighed inwardly as I watched him yawn. I should have been tired, but the adrenaline still kept me awake and on guard. "I'll keep watch, if you want to sleep."