Young Writers Society

Caspar pricked his ears at the sound of someone fast approaching through the rain. He didn't recognize the stride. With his axe still in hand, he pushed off from Eir's side and wearily assumed a battle-ready stance.

Appearing from behind a tree was a stocky and short man, with pale skin and a shock of bright red hair. His eyes scanned the forest, taking in the scene of the fight, and eventually landed back on Caspar, his gaze searching.

"Heard gunshots," he said by way of explanation for his appearance. "Are you alright?"

Caspar tried assessing if the man was armed. He wasn't, so Caspar lowered his axe and answered, "Yeah, I'm good."

The man cast a look Butch's way.

"Who was he to you?" he asked.

Caspar didn't follow his gaze. "Uh. Not a friend."

"So I gather it wasn't personal," the man said carefully, like he was searching for more answers.

With a heavy sigh, Caspar sagged against Eir's side again. He didn't know what to call it. Exhaustion was quickly setting it, and he didn't have time to clarify things to a sudden stranger.

"Look," the man said, cutting in before Caspar could answer. "I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just trying to get an idea of what I'm walking into here."

"Yeah, I--" Caspar pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it, but this doesn't--" He straightened again, biting back a groan. "Please," he said wearily, "I just need to find my friends and make sure they're okay."

"Your friends--" the man started to murmur, but quickly turned his head to look behind him.

For a moment, there was nothing there. As if his reaction was premature, Caspar finally saw a moment later what the man was looking at. A woman emerged out of the dark, pushing a sopping wet cloak over one shoulder as she scanned the forest, eyes landing on Butch, then Caspar.

"Are you Caspar?" she asked.

"You know this guy?" the red-haired man asked quietly.

"No," the woman whispered back. "But Lyall does."

The ground shifted under Caspar's feet again, and he managed to catch himself. He was running out of time.

His mind paused. What did she say?

The woman ran up to him, grabbing him to hold him steady. With a tinge of panic, Caspar began to draw away.

"I'm going to help you," the woman insisted. "Just confirm your name, please."

He blinked. "Yes. Caspar Calderson."

"Okay, let's sit you down," she said.

"No--" He tried pulling away again.

"Caspar, you're losing blood," she said, her voice stern as she firmly grabbed his hood. "Don't make me fight you on this."

"I need to find--"

"They're alright," the woman interjected. "Hild and your friend are going to be okay. Now sit down."

Before he could object, she pushed down on his shoulders hard and brought him to the forest floor, leaning him against a nearby tree trunk. His legs gave out from under him far too quickly. He bit back a curse when the cuts and bruises stabbed and ached with the sudden drop.

With searching hands, she pushed aside his jacket, quickly finding the fast-bleeding wound at his side.

"Elrick," she called out to the man who was still hovering behind her. "Sweep the area. Make sure it's clear. There may be more mounts around."

Elrick, the red-headed man, nodded, and disappeared into the forest.

"I'm glad you're trying to be helpful," the woman said, her voice calm, but still stern. "But you're really not in a position to do much right now."

As she spoke those last words, she ripped through his shirt, and her hand planted flat on the bullet wound. Caspar sucked a breath in through clenched teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Honestly not what he expected her to do right now.

He was about to comment when warmth seeped into his side. He turned his eyes down in shock. The woman's hand glowed with a soft golden light.

"That was..." he started to say, but the words petered out.

With a huff, the woman pulled her hands away and turned her attention to Caspar's leg, sticking her hand through the hole where the axe's blade had slit through. Again, warmth, and a golden light going into his leg from her hands.

That was magic. She was a mage.

"Can't have you bleeding during your family reunion," the woman said, her tone softening as she again pulled her hands away, this time setting one on Caspar's shoulder. "You really know how to put up a fight, don't you?"

Family reunion?

"What was the name you said earlier?" he asked quickly.

A warmth seeped into his shoulder, and then she reached up to his face, turning his head gently with her hand to look behind his ear.

"Lyall," she answered. "He said he knows you and Hild. That's why we're helping."

So he didn't mishear her.

Did Lyall really introduce him as family?

"We have a hideout close by," the woman informed him, her tone gentle as she gingerly touched behind Caspar's ear with her fingertips. "Heard gunfire. It's not often you hear that this far out into the forest."

"Yeah, sorry," he said faintly, flinching slightly as her fingers brushed the cut. "Didn't mean to. Disturb the peace or anything. Just passing through."

The woman smiled warmly, and the warmth again extended to her hand, behind his ear. There was a small flash of light out of the corner of his eye.

"Seems like you disturbed the peace at just the right time," she said, putting her arms around him to help him up. "Now, we're going to take this easy, okay? You're safe now. No need to push yourself."

Nodding, Caspar straightened slowly. With curiosity, he touched behind his ear. The skin mended itself enough to stop the bleeding, but was still tender to the touch.

"We'll get you taken care of more when we get out of this rain, alright?" the woman went on as she brought her arm around his back, steadying him.

"You said Hild and-- they're both alright?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman said. "Lyall's with them right now. How's your head? Spinning?"

It was, just a little. Caspar took a step forward, forcing himself to stay upright. "S'fine."

"I've got you," the woman said as she followed, still holding him steady. "The name's Mel, by the way."

"Mel," he repeated softly. He cast her a small, uneven smile. "It's a lovely name."

Mel hummed a laugh in the back of her throat and smiled, looking amused.

"Well you're awfully charming for someone barely on his feet," she said.

Ducking his head self-consciously, Caspar huffed a laugh. "I wasn't trying to... Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, please," Mel said with another laugh. "I'm a doctor. Of course I can tell."

"Huh." Another doctor. What were the odds? "Makes sense."

As Mel helped him take another step forward while supporting him, Elrick, the man from earlier, started to emerge from the darkness with two horses in tow. One was Penumbra, who looked jittery, and the other was Butch's massive draft horse, who seemed unperturbed.

"Any of these yours?" Elrick asked, shooting Caspar a questioning look.

Caspar glanced over the draft horse. "Not the white one." He nodded to Penumbra. "She's Hild's."

Elrick looked to the white horse with a shrug.

"Sorry, bud. You're a big mouth to feed," he said, patting the horse on the side before letting go of its lead. It stayed put as Elrick came over and found Eir, gently petting her on the neck before he took her lead.

"Follow me," Mel said, nodding her head ahead of them. "This way, now."

Caspar tried not to lean on her too much as they walked.

Lyall knew these people. Introduced Caspar as family, even.

A knot formed in his chest. He thought back to all the things he'd hoped to say, should they get the chance to cross paths again. The words spun in his head, unable to form a coherent thought beyond a simple "I'm sorry".

That would be enough, he supposed.

Footsteps approached behind them. Hild looked over her shoulder and found the woman returning. She held an arm around Caspar as they walked, supporting him. Behind them, there was a ginger-haired man leading two horses behind him. Eir and Penumbra.

Hild barely gave the man with red hair a second thought when she caught sight of bloodstains on Caspar. Withdrawing from her brother, she hurried to meet them and assess Caspar herself.

"What happened," she asked urgently, "how serious is everything?"

Caspar mustered a reassuring smile. "I'm okay." His eyes flicked past Hild to James on the ground and Lyall sitting next to him. His jaw tightened.

"He's stable enough for now," Hild said, then nodded to the woman. "Thanks to..."

"Mel," she answered.

Hild nodded. "Mel. She has been of. Excellent help."

Caspar hummed. "Yeah, she's wonderful."

"Yes, I'm amazing," Mel said dismissively. "Hild, are you injured?"

Hild shook her head. "Completely unscathed. Please, just help James if you can."

Mel dipped her head and glanced behind her at the man leading the horses.

"I want you to help Caspar and Elrick with the horses, and make sure Caspar doesn't push himself," Mel said. "Elrick will lead you. Lyall and I will stay with James--" she met Hild's eyes as if to confirm she caught the name. "And we'll move him."

Hild nodded. She exhaled, dreadfully shaky, and said earnestly, "Thank you."

She and Mel switched places. Caspar didn't object, but he didn't lean on Hild as much as he likely should have, given his current state.

Caspar idly exchanged pleasantries with the man Elrick, and offered a quick apology for the tension during their first-meeting. Hild tuned out the rest as they were led past Mel, Lyall, and James.

She glanced back to Ivar's body. Caspar tensed beside her; he must have followed her gaze.

"Butch is gone, too," he mumbled.

Hild's gaze hardened at the name as she turned her eyes ahead. She ground out a conclusive, "Good."

Caspar's frame sagged a little as they went.

Her own voice echoed in her head for a moment, followed by James's effortless response.

'Don't die.'

'I won't if you cover me.'

She didn't cover him in time. He got shot, and she wasn't able to fix it.

Frowning, Hild shoved away the unwelcome thoughts, the memory of his tense but assured smile, tucking it all away to the far back of her mind.

James would be fine. He was in good hands, with Mel and Lyall. And once he was healed up and back on his feet, he could possibly legitimately ask her to dinner sometime.

Elrick stopped them by a stable-like shelter and settled the horses around a pony that already stood at attention inside.

Hild scanned the rain. "How much farther is the site?" she asked, trying to soften her tone to something that didn't sound as hard as it often did. She was truly grateful to these people, and she wanted to be very conscious of how she treated them.

Elrick shot Hild a faint grin as he walked out of the shelter, only a few feet away.

"It's right here," he said, pointing his hands down at the ground. With a sweeping motion of his arms, a large boulder on the ground pulled away, revealing an opening in the ground.

A staircase. Going underground.

Hild blinked, hard. Caspar breathed an awestruck 'wow' beside her.

"Hurry before the rain pours in," Elrick said.

Caspar felt ready to hasten per Elrick's prompting, but Hild kept a firm hold on him as she took deliberate steps, forcing him to slow down.

As they all ventured in, the ground closed up behind them again. The stairwell was better lit than the outside, with small torches lighting the way down. It fed into a hallway of the same width with five doors along either side of its length.

"Last door on the left," Elrick instructed.

Hild nodded. "Thank you."

Caspar was fading. He leaned more heavily on her now as they took careful paces down the hall.

Elrick came along Caspar's other side, propping him up.

"Come on, big guy," Elrick said. "Just a little further."

Caspar huffed a laugh through his nose and slurred tiredly, "S'fine, m'good."

"Sure, sure," Elrick said, glancing over his shoulder. Hild followed his gaze as a door slid open behind them.

The face of a young teenage girl with long, wavy brown hair peeked out into the hall, eyes wide with worry and curiosity.

"Who's that?" she asked.

Another face appeared quickly above her a good two heads taller. A young man who bore resemblance to the girl.

"What happened?" he asked, looking to Elrick.

"We ran into some of Lyall's old friends, apparently," Elrick said with a faint smile.

Another pair of little heads peered out underneath the teenage girl. Hild paused to study them. They both had curly brown hair, and familiar hazel eyes.

"Where did Papa go?" the taller child asked.

Hild then better recognized the taller child. Lyall's firstborn. Hild was there for the birth, but wasn't able to linger long enough for her name. That was when they were just ushered out of the Isles, away from the Hansens.

The smaller one was a surprise, but definitely had the wild Ashlund mane and green eyes. She seemed more timid as she hid behind her sister.

Caspar turned a little to get a better look as well. His face softened with something akin to relief, and his eyes positively lit up.

A door just ahead of them on their right opened up, revealing a woman with light brown skin and curly dark hair with a baby over her shoulder. She cast Elrick a concerned glance as she scanned Hild and Caspar.

"He's coming," Elrick said. "He's with Mel. We've got one more on the way."

Elrick turned to the woman with the baby, his voice lowering.

"Where's Robin?" he asked.

The woman opened her mouth but didn't get to answer, as a bald man with deep brown skin squeezed past her. He matched Hild in height, and gave Caspar one look before making a bee-line to the last door on the left, holding it open.

"Come along, then," the bald man - presumably Robin - said.

"Hey, wait," Caspar said, faintly as Hild dragged him along. "I want to meet his kids."

"Another time," Hild said sternly.

"Meet them when you're not about to fall over," the man at the door said flatly. "Wouldn't want to squish 'em."

Frowning, Caspar relented, "S'true."

Hild led him into a decent-sized room, equipped with multiple beds arranged in neat rows and medical supplies in the back. It was akin to a small hospital.

Robin pointed to the bed on the wall.

"Over here, big guy," Elrick said, turning Caspar and finally letting go once Caspar was perched on the bed. Robin walked over, already looking him over with a trained eye. Hild stepped back, watching closely, and taking stock of Caspar's injuries herself.

"Mister Robin, I presume?" Caspar said, tone almost conversational. "M'fine, I just. Just need some sleep."

"Sleep, yeah," Robin said with a laugh. "Why do guys always try to say they're fine..."

His sentence trailed off as he leaned back, looking behind Caspar's ear.

"Ah, that'll be easy," he said, quickly reaching to lay his hand behind the ear. Caspar flinched at the sudden movement. There was a small burst of light that emanated from Robin's hand, and then Robin pulled away.

"All better," Robin said with a straight face, walking around to Caspar's other side to look below his ribs, where blood stained his shirt.

"Lift it up, please," Robin said, gesturing to Caspar's shirt. "Show me."

Caspar hesitated. Hild arched a brow when he cast a nervous look her way, but neither said anything. He slowly took off his jacket, and lifted his shirt to reveal a deep graze just under his ribs.

Hild breathed in hard through her nose and wrung her hands. She was far from squeamish, but the thought that she could've lost Caspar to a bullet as well didn't help her still-shaken composure.

"Ah, it really bit you there, huh," Robin understated casually.

Caspar hummed noncommittally. "I guess."

"May I?" Robin asked, outstretching a hand toward the wound.

With his eyes fixed on the wound, Caspar nodded.

Robin laid his hand over the graze, and Hild watched again as a golden glowing light started to come out of Robin's hand, transferring from his skin to Caspar's. The light seemed to go deep, penetrating several layers of skin. It seemed to take more focus and time on Robin's part. After about a minute, he pulled away with a sigh, looking a little winded.

"Alright. Good as new," Robin said.

Brows furrowed, Caspar looked him over. "I didn't--" He swallowed, struggling to find the right words. "It could've healed on its own."

"You'd rather be in pain longer instead of just sleep it off with a long nap?" Robin asked, looking up at Caspar with raised brows.

"Well, I mean--" Caspar shrugged helplessly, then settled for a quiet but sincere, "Thank you."

"Thought so," Robin said. "Now show me your leg mister heal-on-your-own."

Folding her arms, Hild bit on her knuckle to hide a grin. She rather liked this gentleman Robin already.

With a slight put-upon frown, Caspar lifted his legs up onto the bed and tugged up his pant leg.

"Well, that's not so bad," Robin said, coming closer to look at it. "I'm sure it smarts, though."

Caspar just murmured incoherently, then added more clearly, "We can leave it."

"Who's 'we?'" Robin asked, looking to Caspar innocently, already setting his hand on Caspar's leg.

There was another bright light, and when Robin pulled his hand away, there was a fully healed scar where the cut once was.

"There. Nothing to bandage, nothing to waste supplies on--" Robin started, but then his eyes caught on Caspar's shoulder. "Oh. Missed one. You know what... can you just take your shirt off for a second?"

Caspar glanced at his own shoulder, brows rising as he seemed to just remember himself. Without any further objections, but with a look of grim resignation, he carefully pulled his shirt off over his head.

Hild turned her head to take stock of the medical supplies along the wall. A silent moment passed as she assumed Robin went ahead to heal the cut. Even when he stepped back, she kept her eyes trained elsewhere.

"I'll get you a change of clothes," she declared, "while you find a way to wash up a bit."

Caspar hummed softly. "Sure. Thanks."

Nodding, Hild strode out and down the hallway. She paused by what looked like a communal room, complete with tables and chairs, shelves filled with books and trinkets, and a worn sofa. It was a well-lived-in space. Cozy.

Lyall's daughters sat on the floor in a small circle with the teenage girl. The young man who Hild assumed was the girl's older brother circled around them, stooping low to tap their heads as he went.

Hild carried on down the hallway. She caught sight of Elrick already heading up, so she hastened and fell into step behind him.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

"I'd like to fetch our belongings, is all," she said quietly with a polite smile.

He only nodded as he stopped at the top of the staircase where it met with a stone ceiling. Raising his arms, he made a pushing motion without touching it, and the boulder pulled away again, letting the rain in.

"Don't wander off too far," Elrick said as he walked back up to the surface.

Hild headed straight for the small stable. She met Penumbra with quiet reassurances and stroked the mare's face. Penumbra settled down, but continued to fidget as Hild unstrapped her and Caspar's bags from the saddles.

When she returned to the infirmary room, freshly soaked again and with the bags stacked in her arms, she hesitated by the door, then tiptoed inside. Caspar lied sprawled out on the bed with a blanket covering his chest and his right arm slung over his eyes. Two beds over, Robin was also fast asleep.

Hild set Caspar's bag down at the foot of his bed and silently shut the door on her way back out. Clutching her own bag in both arms, she just stood in the hall, listening as Lyall's daughters laughed from the communal room.

She wasn't there more than a few seconds before she started to hear voices and hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. Hild hurried toward the commotion, then side-stepped into the communal room.

Lyall and Mel carried James in on a makeshift stretcher, which was fashioned from branches and what must have been Mel's cloak. As he led the way down the hall, Lyall flashed a reassuring grin.

"We'll patch him up just fine," he declared, his voice filling the corridor, "your friend here will be right as rain soon enough. James, was it? Can't wait to meet him properly, maybe even shake his hand. Or punch him in the face for that matter, seeing as he did manage to make you cry. Still haven't decided how I feel about that, we'll see once I can get to know him."

"You can follow, if you want and observe," Mel said as they passed. "But leave this to us for now."

Hild nodded with a small grateful smile. "I'll let you two work in peace," she said softly as she trailed behind them.

"Alright," Mel said with a nod, slowing as she and Lyall came to the door. "Grab that for us, will you?"

Hild obliged and reached around her brother. As they angled the stretcher into the infirmary room, Lyall nodded to her and went on, voice softening as he caught sight of Caspar and Robin, "Once we've finished up here, I want to know the full story that led to all of this."

Hild shot him a flat look. "Of course. I'll regale you with all the fascinating details about what was nothing more than a glorified over-extended camping trip, teeming with blood-thirsty bounty hunters, horse riding lessons, and far too many river baths for my liking."

Lyall raised his brows. "Spare no detail."

"This man still has shrapnel in his gut," Mel said, pushing the stretcher into the room. "You can catch up later."

He obediently backed into the room with her. "Yes, it's a state," he replied lightly.

They lowered James onto the nearest bed, and once their hands were free, they both started running around the room grabbing supplies.

Hild turned away, but lingered to listen as they worked. It was mostly quiet, but when they spoke, their tones were soft yet urgent.

She was reminded of the times she snuck around outside of operating rooms in the family practice, peeking in to observe the tools and techniques used in surgery. Her mother would sometimes shoo her away when she noticed Hild, saying they couldn't afford distractions with patients under the knife. So Hild would disappear into the library in their home and read about what she glimpsed from the sidelines.

Hild now found herself wandering into the communal room, gravitating toward the bookshelves off to the side. She plucked a heftier volume from the shelf and took a seat at one of the tables.

The words on the pages were perfectly legible, but they felt as though they were written in a foreign language. Hild read, then re-read a lot of the text. The letters' meanings formed only partly in her mind, and were next to useless. With a sigh, she shut the book and dropped her head on the cover with a soft thump.

Already, the night leading up to now felt distant. She mentally replayed the exact sequence of events as they happened.

Dogs found their trail, and flushed them out of the alcove. She never liked dogs very much anyway.

They tore through the rainy woods on horseback.

The hunter Butch came out of nowhere, towered over them all. She couldn't see his face clearly in the midnight storm, but he had the air of a merciless killer.

Ivar flanked her and Penumbra, trapping her. He must not have seen her face, there was no flash of recognition in his icy eyes.

Then again, it didn't matter much if he did. She eventually shot Ivar off his horse.

Without hesitation, James flew in on Elliot and grabbed Hild from her perch. They rode off, clinging firmly to each other, leaving Caspar behind with Butch.

Hild lifted her head from the book on the table and brushed her hair back from her face.

It twisted something inside of her, like a knife, and she could tell it hurt James too. They essentially abandoned Caspar.

She pursed her lips as she tentatively identified the invisible knife as guilt.

'Don't die.'

'I won't if you cover me.'

Though tense, his smile settled her nerves, steeled her resolve. Just enough for Hild to ready her pistol, to harm someone rather than to help.

The knife had twisted again as she aimed at Ivar's back.

The Hansens stole a lot from her family, yet she hesitated to take in turn.

That same knife wrenched sideways in her gut when she realized she didn't pull the trigger soon enough. As she watched James keel over in the saddle, blood already soaking his shirt, spreading like an awful disease.

Hild pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes as she leaned back in the chair. It creaked a little under her shifting weight.

'I'd have asked you to dinner.'

Running her hands up through her damp hair, she bit back a betraying noise in her throat.

He faded, so quickly. His hand went slack in hers, his strength gone.

She'd treated all sorts of nasty, messy wounds. But she supposed she never had to operate on someone she cared about. Not to the extent that she cared about James and Caspar, anyway.

Hild crossed her arms tightly over her chest, biting down on her lower lip.

She froze up, and she could've lost him.

She could've lost him, and it would've been on her.

There was a knock at the door. It had already opened, but there was a woman standing in the doorway, with a baby cradled in one arm. She'd seen her before, only for a moment as she was bringing Caspar to the infirmary.

"Am I interrupting anything?" the woman asked softly.

Hild sniffed and wiped under her eyes as discretely as she could with her back still facing the woman. "No. Please, come in. It's your home."

The woman walked in and came to the table, sitting in the chair beside Hild. She bounced the baby in her arm for a moment before setting the baby in her lap. The baby turned to look at Hild with curious, big eyes, and only stared.

"We didn't get a chance to get introduced," the woman said sweetly. "I'm Maisy. Elrick is my husband, and this is little Leah."

Clearing her throat and mustering a smile, Hild nodded. "You're a lovely family," she said sincerely, albeit a bit stiff as she recomposed herself.

"What's your name?" Maisy asked, still speaking in gentle tones.

"Ah. Hild Ashlund. Lyall's-- his half-sister," she answered, her own voice steadying. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Maisy."

The woman nodded, and turned her attention down to Leah for a moment, as Leah had started grabbing for Maisy's shirt. Maisy 'stood' Leah up with her tiny feet on Maisy's thigh, bouncing her up and down.

Leah made a few noises that Hild assumed were happy in nature. She couldn't be too sure, she never handled infants before.

"If you want a moment to yourself," Maisy said. "I completely understand. I just know-- well, it looks like you and your friends have been through a lot just now. Do you want anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Hild laughed a little, but it felt empty. "I..." She breathed in deep. "I actually don't know."

For the umpteenth time that night, she really didn't know what to think, to decide. She despised it.

"You know," Maisy said, sitting Leah back down again. "That's completely fine."

She looked back up to Hild with a small smile. Leah was staring at Hild again with an unwavering gaze.

"So, I hear you're a doctor too?" Maisy asked after a beat. "Like your brother?"

Hild blinked. "Yes. I am."

"He speaks very highly of you," Maisy said with a warm smile. "I'm glad we finally get to meet you. It's a nice surprise on a day like this one."

Hild nodded with a quick smile of her own. "Yes. Nice how this worked out."

Maisy's smile faded slowly, though naturally. She looked back down at Leah, who was starting to reach for Hild with her tiny curled up fingers.

"I think she wants to say hello," Maisy said with a faint laugh.

Hild only waved a little to Leah, a bit awkwardly. "Salutations," she managed to greet in a pleasant tone of voice.

Maisy chuckled at that.

"Would you like to hold her?" she offered.

Hild hesitated. "She's a wonderful child, I'm sure, a true joy, but I don't. Hold children."

Maisy raised an eyebrow, but didn't look put off by her refusal.

"Do you have any experience with children?" Maisy asked.

The question suggested she was undeterred, even. Hild tilted her head with a hint of suspicion. "No, I do not."

"It's not as scary as it looks," Maisy said. "Just support her bum and her head and you'll be fine."

"I've read about it," Hild murmured, folding her hands neatly on the table.

"Would you like to put it into practice in real life?" Maisy said with an amused little grin.

Leah's fingers brushed Hild's sleeve, but Hild was too far for her to get a hold of anything. Something in the small child's bright gaze loosened Hild's grip on herself. She tentatively reached a hand out for Leah to hold.

"I think I'm better at a distance," Hild said with a forced smile.

Leah's fingers wrapped tightly around Hild's pointer finger with a surprisingly relentless grip for someone so small. She seemed perfectly content just holding Hild's finger until she started pulling it to her mouth, moving to suck on it. Hild drew back a little, just to keep Leah from achieving this strange yet perfectly instinctual goal.

Leah let out a small whine, pulling at Hild's finger again.

"Sorry, she's going through her 'everything must go in my mouth' phase," Maisy apologized.

"No worries," Hild replied simply with a more sincere smile.

"Okay, Leah, no more eating people's fingers," Maisy said, pulling Leah away a little. As Leah's fingers reluctantly released Hild's, she started to cry. Maisy put Leah on her shoulder, starting to bounce her and pat her back.

"I think she's getting hungry," Maisy said with a sigh. "Even though I tried to feed her thirty minutes ago and she wasn't having it."

Leaning back in her chair again, Hild hummed a laugh. "Humans are fickle creatures."

"Babies especially," Maisy said with a grin, still bouncing and patting Leah, whose cries stopped and started with each pat.

Just as Hild was about to let Maisy go, so she could tend to Leah, there was a soft rapping on the doorway again. Lyall leaned against it with his arms loosely crossed. He'd rolled back his sleeves. Small smudges of red lingered there, but his hands were completely clean now.

"We removed what shrapnel we could find," he said gently, "and just closed up him a minute ago. James is stable and Mel's resting in the other room."

Hild rose and met him by the door. "Did you have drugs on hand?" she asked quietly.

"Of course."

And they were necessary to combat the shock, she knew. Her past conversations with James concerning their use on him in particular just gave her pause.

Hild nodded and said simply, "Good."

Resting a hand on her shoulder, Lyall tilted his head to meet her downcast eyes. "They're both fine, alright? They're going to be okay."

When he pulled her into a gentle hug, she hid her face in his shirt and flung her arms up around his back. Hild breathed in deep, and exhaled shakily.

She most assuredly did not cry in her brother's arms, though. And he didn't rub small, comforting circles on her back. She never leaned her full weight on him, tucking her head under his chin, feeling small and helpless.

But she did feel utterly relieved, because she wasn't going to lose anyone, and had regained a beloved family member as well.

The world felt distant at first, and fuzzy, like a dream he'd forget once he woke up. Consciousness played with him, coming and going in waves, but never returning completely. He could remember muddled voices. Flickering lights behind his eyelids. A blinding pain, and then no pain at all.

For some reason he thought death would happen faster this time, but he'd tasted enough of death to know that he wasn't. He was drifting. Stuck somewhere in between.

His mind was buried under a thick fog as he felt like he fell backward into reality, suddenly becoming aware of his orientation in comparison to the world. On his back, on what felt like a padded bed - because the ground could never get so soft yet firm, not with all the moss and grass in the world.

Confusion was the first thing he met as he started to open his eyes, faced with warm lamplight glowing on an empty ceiling.

A ceiling.

Where am I? The thought echoed loudly in his head as he shifted his head to the side, feeling like his whole world was spinning even though he'd hardly moved. It took too long for his eyes to adjust.

Blinking his eyes into focus, he found himself looking over at Hild, who sat beside him on a stool. Behind her he could make out a table and a series of cabinets, but the details were lost on him as he stared at Hild, his mind running far too slowly to make sense of anything he was seeing.

"Hild...?" he pushed out, his voice weak in the quiet room.

"Welcome back," she said, smiling softly.

James stared at her with half-open eyes, still trying to understand what was going on and what had happened. He turned his head the other way, seeing a few empty beds, and an empty wall.

"We're... in a..." he tried to say, but words were failing him.

Where am I?

"A...sort of house," Hild supplied. "More of an underground bunker, really, but. It feels like a house."

James turned his head back to Hild, trying to scrape his mind for his most recent memories.

"Where's Caspar?" he asked.

"He's here too," she answered. "Just on the other side of me, actually. He's safe. Asleep."

"Oh," James said, the word coming out like a sigh of relief. Caspar was okay.

"Elliot?" he asked.

"In a stable with Eir and Penumbra," she chirped. Then added with a smile in her voice, "And Sparkles the pony."

James stared at her as her words took too long to register, and still didn't fully make sense.

"You... okay? You're okay?" he asked after a long pause.

Hild laughed, soft and warm. "I'm okay."

"You're dry," James commented, looking at her hair. It had fluffed up again, no longer stuck to her face from the rain.

"I am," she answered simply.

James again tried to remember what had happened. He could remember the rain. The thundering storm. The howling of dogs in the distance.

Butch. Ivar.

His heart started pounding.

"It's been three hours since the...confrontation," Hild said evenly. "Ivar is gone. So is Butch. They won't be coming back."

Though the news should've calmed him, his heart kept going, like it didn't know how to stop.

Ivar was gone. Hild shot him.

The rapid succession of gunshots replayed in his mind. He could feel the bullet tear open his gut, and there was blood. Blood all over his hands. Mixing with the rain.

"I was shot," he said, barely audible, unaware he'd said it out loud until he heard his own voice like an echo.

Hild tilted her head a little. "You were," she said, her voice tight.

He could remember the pain. The hot, wet blood soaking through his shirt and pooling in his gut like a fountain. Hild, leaning over him, with tears in her eyes. He should've died. He wasn't going to make it, and they both knew it. So why was he still here?

He looked up to meet Hild's eyes.

"What happened?" he whispered.

Hild leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the bed. She looked off to the side for a moment.

"Help found us," she murmured, meeting his eyes. "A group of mages came and assisted us shortly after you..."

Died?

Almost died?

So he did almost die.

But mages, though. Mages of all people -- why would they help them? They had no reason to. For all they knew, James, Caspar, and Hild could have been just like most of the world and hated them, and hated magic. What gave them reason to think any different? To not look out for themselves?

"Why?" he finally asked.

Folding her arms and resting her chin atop them, Hild shrugged. "One of them serendipitously turned out to be my brother."

For a split second, James wasn't able to process her answer because he found himself simply staring at her, chin on her arms, completely unaware of how it framed her face. She looked cute, and it made the very important information she just gave him take entirely too long to actually hit him.

"Brother?" he finally said, his voice squeaking for no apparent reason.

Hild grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yes. Lyall. It seems he's found himself a community here."

James blinked. Lyall. Lyall. He knew that name. His mind was not piecing things together quickly enough. Not at all.

Where else did he know Lyall from?

"Lyall..." he echoed under his breath, still trying to remember. "He and Caspar...?"

Another face with much greener eyes than Hild's popped into view next to her. He had the same curly hair as her, though. He smiled broadly.

"James, I take it? Glad to see you pulled through," he said with an overabundance of cheer.

James could barely think, but his gut told him this was Lyall.

"Lyall," James said again, but this time addressing the person. "Good to meet you."

Lyall leaned out of view momentarily to shoo Hild away. "Let a man breathe, would you?" he said. "He looks about ready to burst from the sheer proximity of your faces, back!"

Hild swatted back at him. "My gods, Lyall!" she retorted indignantly.

"I'm okay," James said quietly. "Thanks to you, I'm assuming."

Lyall leaned back into view, staring straight down into James's eyes, assessing. "Only in part, I confess," he replied smoothly, patting a hand to his own heart. "You really have Mel to thank, so kindly save it, my friend."

He didn't know who Mel was, but whoever they were, he would try to remember to say thank you.

"Well, now that you're cognizant-- more or less," Lyall said, pulling over a chair, "how did you two meet? How long ago? Where?"

Hild shot him a hard glare. "Now is hardly the time," she ground out.

James felt like he was missing something, but he clearly didn't know what.

"We met... about three months ago?" he paused, looking to Hild for confirmation.

Sitting straight with her hands folded in her lap, Hild nodded. "Yes."

With his arms folded and a hand held up to his chin, Lyall leaned back in his chair as he glanced between them.

"I was traveling with Caspar before that," James said, trying very hard to form coherent sentences. "We ran into Hild when they recognized each other in Needle Point."

Hild gave another subtle nod in confirmation to her brother.

"Excellent!" Lyall said, smiling again. "Your memory seems intact still. What brought you two to Needle Point in the first place?"

James found his mind lagging again. He wasn't sure how much Hild had told him, if anything at all.

"Supplies," he said. "Needed more... more supplies."

"I heartell those are beneficial," Lyall said pleasantly. "Where did you and Cas meet?"

"A ranch," James said. "He barely knew how to ride a horse. I had to teach him."

Huffing a disbelieving laugh, Lyall glanced away for a moment, toward Caspar's sleeping form behind him. "The charming idiot," he murmured.

He turned back to James, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I have a lot of questions for you, James, but our time is limited right now due to multiple contributing factors, including my dear sister here who looks ready to strangle me any second now, and I do have some sense of self-preservation, so just one more question, okay?"

James glanced at Hild, noticing her tight-lipped glare directed firmly at the side of Lyall's head.

James looked back to Lyall.

"Alright," he said quietly.

Lyall nodded, his expression turning very serious. He rubbed his palms together as he studied James closely. Drawing in a breath, he rather plainly asked, "What are your intentions with Hild?"

James stared at Lyall for a moment, entirely caught off-guard. He felt heat rush to his face. Burning.

Her own face reddening, Hild jumped up from the stool, batting both hands and biting out colorful curses at her brother. Lyall fled with hasty apologies, almost tipping the chair over, and shielded himself with his arms as she chased him out of the room.

He attempted to crane his neck to see where they were going, but the effort made his vision spin again, and he let his head settle back onto the bed with a thump into the pillow.

It was at that moment he finally became aware of the aching in his side. It was dull now, but he had a feeling it would hurt more later. It only just occured to him that they had to perform surgery to get the bullet out, and who knew what else.

He tried moving his arm and his muscles were stiff. He laid his hand on his side, feeling the edges of a bandage on his torso.

Somewhere in the back of his head he understood that more people had seen him again. Seen the scars.

Was that why Lyall had so many questions? Or maybe that had more to do with Hild. James couldn't sort it out.

With his mind in knots, he closed his eyes again, hoping it would help. Instead, he found himself drifting again, deeper and deeper into sleep.

Caspar opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling lit in a warm glow, and he listened to quiet shuffling somewhere off to the side. Faces he vaguely remembered came into focus for a moment, and then it hit him where he was. He didn't have a full name for it yet other than 'safe'. He tilted his head back to close his eyes again, just for a quick moment.

Just sleep it off, he told himself.

When he next opened his eyes, he was in his small cabin in the wilds, staring up at the pitched ceiling. Caspar turned his head. His kid was lying right beside him. There was a fire crackling in the tiny hearth, warming their one-room home.

With his head resting on Caspar's shoulder, Eindride busied himself with the little woodland creatures that Caspar carved for him.

There was a pounding ache in his leg. That's right, Caspar just recently cut himself on the axe.

An axe-cident, he thought with a wry smile. Just sleep it off.

Then he actually woke up, and found his head tilted toward a completely different face, a few feet away this time.

Caspar blinked, hard. His leg still ached, but from a different wound. He inhaled deeply through his nose as his mind caught up with his eyes.

James.

Planting his hands down by his sides, Caspar dragged himself upright with a soft groan. His muscles twinged as he eased back against the wall to scan the room.

Underground house, yes. Mages. Lyall.

Caspar quickly turned his eyes back to James. The younger man looked ashen, asleep.

Right. He was hurt again.

There was conveniently a chair sitting between them. When Caspar turned to stand up, there was a tug on his arm-- in his arm. Brows furrowed, he squinted at a narrow line that disappeared into his arm, then followed it up. At his other side stood a vertical metal bar holding aloft a glass filled with a dark fluid. The line in his arm led to the inverted glass.

Huh. Probably shouldn't. Get up or anything, then. Well, maybe he could if he just took the thing with him.

With the same hand that was hooked up to the line, he pulled it around to the other side as quietly as he could, and settled himself in the chair by James's bed. He leaned back, lightly drumming his hands on his thighs.

In the midst of a storm and in the dark, and with James lying on the ground ten paces away, Caspar wasn't able to see what exactly happened. Though he could gather. He distantly remembered another set of gunshots firing in the distance.

Caspar set his jaw, and suddenly he didn't feel so steady, even as he simply sat, still.

With the blanket folded down at his waist and without a shirt at the moment, James's bandaged torso was in full view.

He was shot. Likely by Ivar.

Ivar was gone. Butch was dead.

Caspar's eyes followed James's arm along two thin lines that led to a similar vertical setup with glass bottles of two different fluids. It then occurred to him that the dark fluid was probably blood.

The clear fluid hooked up to James must have been a drug? Caspar couldn't be sure, he was the farthest thing from a medical expert.

James's head was tilted towards Caspar, so it immediately caught his attention when he saw James's eyelids start to flutter. James peered up at him through half open eyes, looking sleepy and unusually relaxed compared to times past when he knew James was in pain.

Yeah, the clear fluid was probably a drug.

Caspar shifted the chair a little closer.

"Cas," James said faintly, his mouth turning into a loose, tiny smile.

Caspar cocked his head and offered a small smile in return, albeit a little tight. "Hey, bud. How you feeling?"

James blinked as if in slow motion.

"M' feeling... sleepy," he said slowly. "Good."

Caspar nodded, mustering the energy to appear relaxed as well. "That's good."

"You look... worse," James said, squinting slightly. Caspar realized that could be - at least in part - due to a lack of glasses at the moment. "What--"

James stopped himself short as his eyes drifted to the side.

"Whoa. You've got blood," he said.

"Uh, yeah," Caspar said absently, "I guess it's helping--"

James's eyes widened suddenly with a look of realization, and what seemed like panic buried under whatever drugs he had in his system.

"Butch. Bu-- I left you behind, Caspar--"

"No, James," Caspar cut in, voice steady, "you didn't. You were helping Hild."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Cas," James went on anyway, his voice weak and wavering. "I panicked. I didn't know what--if they hurt her I--"

"Hey, it's fine." Caspar pulled the chair closer, trying lean into view. "I'm fine, James. She's alright too."

James's eyes were glossing over with tears.

"I'm sorry I left you alone with him," James whispered, and the fear in his voice was palpable.

James wasn't normally this transparent. Caspar couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on his emotions again. How many times was it now? That drugs tore through James's walls, forcing his hand?

Without thinking, Caspar carefully wrapped his hand around James's, warmly, in the only way he knew how to comfort. "I'm okay, bud. I'm right here, talking to you. I'm good, alright?"

To his surprise, James tightly gripped his hand in return. He had a feeling that were James at full strength, his grip would've been even tighter.

"He's...he's dead?" James asked, his voice still wavering as tears started to stream down either side of his face.

"He's dead," Caspar confirmed, quieter but unwavering still. "He's not coming back."

"And Ivar too?" James asked, blinking out fat tears.

"They're both gone." Caspar brought his other hand to fully envelope James's. "We're safe. We're okay. You can rest."

"I haven't... I haven't been safe in so long," James said, barely audible.

"You're safe now," Caspar repeated in a soft murmur.

"And you-- you're-- you didn't get--" James stuttered.

Smiling warmly, Caspar nodded. "I'm good, James."

James was quiet for a moment as he swallowed and sniffed, shutting his eyes to blink away more tears.

"You can relax now, bud."

James nodded almost imperceptibly and looked back at Caspar.

"I got shot," he said quietly. "Didn't mean to."

Pressing his own eyes shut for a moment, Caspar let out a slow breath through his nose. "I know," he murmured reassuringly, "I know. You're okay, don't worry about it."

"I was trying to distract him," James went on. "I had an actual plan. It just didn't-- didn't play out how I imagined. I thought I could make him talk longer."

"James," Caspar said gently and deliberately, "you need to rest."

"How long has it been?" James asked instead.

Caspar glanced up at the wall in thought. He blew the hair from his forehead, then pushed it back with his hand. How long had it been?

He shrugged. "Long enough," he finally said.

James was quiet a moment, and he looked away, eyes lost in thought.

"Has Hild come by yet?" Caspar wondered out loud.

James's eyes widened slightly, and suddenly a flush came to his cheeks. James swallowed, like he was nervous. Caspar tilted his head the other way now, brows pinching in confusion.

"I can't remember," James said, but it didn't feel quite like he was talking to Caspar. "I... after I got shot it all... did I say something? Is it obvious? How did he know? Does he-- or was he just messing with me?"

"Slow down," Caspar murmured, "I was just wondering if-- Who? What's obvio-- No, nevermind. Take a breath, kiddo."

"Lyall," James said. "He wanted--"

James only seemed to be getting more red in the face, blushing even harder.

It hit Caspar that he still hadn't seen Lyall himself since they passed each other in the storm.

The state of James's face was. Staggering, frankly. Caspar wasn't sure if he should call for help or be very amused.

"What did he want?" he asked slowly.

James blinked, swallowing again as he stared up at the ceiling.

"He wanted to... to know my intentions with Hild," James said, his voice dwindling with each word.

Caspar blinked. "He..."

Intentions?

Of course Lyall would poke at a man hopped up on drugs. Wherever his family was intricately involved, he prodded mercilessly for any ulterior motives and the like.

Intentions with Hild?

Caspar felt his brows shoot up to his hairline. "He really asked that?"

James only hummed in confirmation.

Lyall was in here, then. Caspar was still asleep when that happened. He had to silently wonder how long ago that was, because James was out of it too.

Caspar finally huffed a laugh and scrubbed a tired hand over his face. "Of course he asked that." He let his hand drop back on James's, and he couldn't help but smile with some amusement now.

"I'm sure he was just messing with you," Caspar assured him.

James averted his eyes, avoiding Caspar.

"Right," he said, though his face was still red. "Right."

Lyall must have been onto something here, but Caspar chose to drop it for now.

"Turns out he has two kids," Caspar said, both for James's sake and also in realization as it came back to him as well. "They're small. One's got his eyes."

James blinked.

"Ah. Kids. Would love to meet them when I'm not... you know," he said weakly.

Caspar nodded, his mind drifting back to their little faces peeking around the doorway. He replied absently, "Yeah, that'd be nice."

He wondered what their names were, if they also had their father's dimples, or their mother's bubbly smile instead. The smaller girl had her mother's round cheeks.

Brows furrowing again, Caspar wondered where Lyall's wife was.

"Hild said we're underground?" James asked after some pause.

Caspar snapped out of his thoughts. "Uh, yes. Underground house."

"Clever," James said faintly. "A good way to hide in plain sight."

"Yeah."

How long had Lyall been here? When did he meet Mel, and how?

What happened to Bryda? Caspar couldn't recall her face or voice anywhere on his way in.

James's expression seemed to relax again into a sleepy hint of a smile. Caspar idly patted his hand, suddenly remembering that they were still firmly clasped.

James turned his head towards their hands and a look of confusion passed over his face as his hand loosened in Caspar's. Caspar tightened his jaw.

Was this too long? Too much? He quickly withdrew, careful to make sure he didn't jostle James's hand, and he tucked both of his own hands under his arms. That was too much, he told himself.

"I keep forgetting things," James said softly. "My head feels... heavy."

"You could use sleep," Caspar said. "Just rest now, alright?"

"Are you going to rest? Too?" James asked.

Caspar offered a small, close-lipped smile and nodded. "Of course."

James stared at Caspar for a moment, his eyes half closed again.

"You never were good at lying," James started to slur.

Ducking his head to look at the floor, Caspar huffed a laugh. "It's a curse," he mumbled.

"Only if you live a life like mine," James said, his words still running into each other. "I like you being honest."

Caspar didn't know how to answer that. He opted instead for, "Get some sleep, James. You're okay now."

"You know," James said, his eyes closing as he sleepily slurred on. "Sometimes you remind me of... my dad..."

He trailed off, eyes opening slightly for a moment to look at Caspar with a soft expression that faded in a second as his eyes shut once more.

He was out again, like a light.

Caspar swallowed, then noticed that there was a lump in his throat to begin with. Holding his arms more tightly around himself, he drew in an unsteady breath through his nose as he turned his eyes to the wall. Something gripped his lungs, vice-like, making it hard to breathe right.

Eindride never called him 'dad' or anything. But he did say once that Caspar was like Eindride's father, as the kid remembered the man before he passed from illness.

'You're really nice like him,' the kid said, eyes droopy with sleep as he tucked up small into Caspar's side.

His side ached, around the healed graze, as he held himself tightly, trying to fill the now-empty space as he doubled over. His shoulders began shaking, and a low noise tore out of the back of his throat. He tried swallowing it down. He scrubbed his face with his hand, and his palm came away wet.

Crying, he realized bitterly.

A familiar hand slid around his back to rest on his shoulder. Caspar curled in tighter on himself.

"M'just tired," he said simply, sniffing loudly.

"Perpetually," Lyall said with a hum.

Another sob wracked his frame. Caspar buried his face in both hands. Lyall's touch fell away.

This wasn't how he wanted their first conversation in seven years to go. He was a mess, he couldn't articulate anything like this. He just wanted to say sorry before his chance slipped away again.

When he looked up, Lyall was sitting close beside him with a morose smile. Resting a hand on the back of Caspar's neck, he gently pulled him down into an embrace. Caspar wrapped his arms around him, tightly, and he leaned their heads together.

"I didn't mean to--" he struggled to say between sobs, "I didn't--"

"S'okay." Lyall's voice was muffled as he tucked his nose against Caspar's neck. He murmured thickly, "I'm sorry, Cas."

Holding on and being held, releasing years of pent-up fear and guilt and grief, Caspar cried.

Hild woke in an unfamiliar room, curled up small in an unfamiliar bed. She took stock of her surroundings with bleary eyes, her mind hazy with exhaustion, then pushed herself fully upright.

They were in the mages' hideout.

After unfairly poking at James and taking a verbal beat down with a nonplussed grin, Lyall insisted Hild get some sleep. They argued about the supposed benefits of sleep, where she would even do such a thing, why he wouldn't be sleeping while she was forced to, and apparently he would be, just not in his bed that night, which she didn't even ask for--

Hild rubbed at her eyes, then checked the time on the dented pocket watch. 10:04 AM. She couldn't recall when she fell asleep, but she felt she'd probably rested long enough for now.

She threw off the covers and swung her legs down. Then buried her face in her hands with a groan when the...interrogation came back to mind. Gods, her brother was annoying.

Hild pushed her hair back from her face and pursed her lips, suddenly annoyed that she was still somewhere deep inside happy to have him back.

She padded out of the room so as to not disturb Robin, who was still asleep at the other end of the room.

Though compelled to check on James and Caspar, she opted to explore the hideout a little. They were probably fine, and she honestly wasn't sure if she could face James again quite yet.

Voices drifted down the hall. She followed them, and lingered by the door.

On one wall there was a kitchen, complete with a wood stove and a chimney that seemed to lead out somewhere above ground, countertops, and cabinets mounted to the wall. Busy preparing food at the counter were Mel, Elrick, and the young teenage girl Hild remembered from earlier. Mel was looking after something in a large pot on the stove-top while the other two were arranging things on large platters.

The air in the room was steamy and warm, filled with a savory aroma and a blend of spices. Tall lamps hung in the corners of the room lit with candlelight that occasionally pulsed in yellow and orange hues on the walls. On the opposite side of the room there was a long, wooden table with two long benches on either side, and a few chairs pulled up to either end. The older brother - the other half of the presumably sibling pair - was setting the table with the help of Lyall and his two children, and Maisy sat on the end of one of the benches nursing baby Leah, with her chest and the baby covered by a blanket.

Hild drifted over to the kitchen half of the room, by Mel.

"Might I offer an extra pair of hands?" Hild asked.

Mel looked over to Hild with a warm grin.

"Good to see you're up," she said. "We're actually just about done here, but we'd love help when dinner comes around."

Nodding, Hild politely smiled back. "I'd be happy to assist by that time, then."

Not wanting to appear aimless, she took measured steps toward the table and sat across from Maisy and Leah, offering the two a quiet, "Good morning."

Maisy looked up with a small smile. "Oh! Good morning! Were you able to sleep alright?"

Hild returned her smile with a slight bow of her head. "I was, thank you."

The table and benches filled up quickly as everyone settled for the first meal of the day. Hild mostly kept quiet as she ate, really only half-listening as everyone else visited.

The teenage girl and her tall brother were Masil and Jordan. As they ate, they both lobbed a plethora of curious questions at Lyall about their guests in the infirmary room. Without ever missing a beat, her brother answered everything head-on, matching the two in speed and enthusiasm.

Leah was now tucked safely in the crook of Elrick's arm. He sat close next to Maisy, leaning in toward her as they spoke softly together.

Mel had taken a seat by Hild. They exchanged polite smiles, but otherwise didn't say much.

No one could, really, what with the rapid-fire conversation between her brother, Masil, and Jordan almost entirely filling the table.

Hild watched her brother for a moment. There was a spark in his eyes as he and Jordan launched into a spiel completely unrelated to wound treatments. He gestured wildly as he rattled off counter-points, then laughed when his daughters ambushed him from behind, as though a physical retaliation could help Jordan gain the upper hand in the debate.

Sitting at this table felt foreign to Hild, but also rather familiar. It brought her back to family dinners at their old home, before the fire. Hild and Viktor still lived there, having taken on roles in the practice and because they hadn't married off yet, and Ulf brought his wife and child to visit once or twice. The dining room was full with just the family, the air warm with light conversation, spirited debates about anything and everything, and infectious laughter.

Mel's plate was half cleared when she turned to Hild and leaned in slightly to speak just to her.

"Just so you know," she said. "If you need to rest later just let us know. We can kick anyone out of the bedroom if they're being loud. It was a long night for all of us, but we'll all need our rest to recover. You included."

Hild blinked, considered it odd that she needed more than a second to register Mel's words, then straightened. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary." She offered a slight smile. "I'll be fine with some company."

Mel smiled softly.

"How long were you three out on the road?" Mel asked.

Hild folded her hands on her lap. "About three months. James and Caspar have been traveling a little longer, before we ran into each other in Needle Point."

"That's a long time to be traveling without settling down anywhere," Mel said. "I imagine it was all spent outdoors as well?"

Hild nodded. "Yes, both accurate assessments."

Thinking back, it felt as though they'd been traveling and camping outside for an eternity.

"I'm sure it's been a while since you've had a nice hot bath," Mel said with a small grin. "And that rain storm doesn't count."

Hild hummed a laugh. "The river has been a blessing, if a bit chilly. We made it work."

"I imagine so," Mel said. "I've had my fair share of roughing it as well. You make do, but it's nice when you get to sleep in a bed, where it's warm, and the rain doesn't leak through."

Hild gave her a quick smile and nod of acknowledgement. She hesitated, then asked, "How long have you been living out here?"

"Well, this hideout has been here for a long time," Mel said. "Several different groups have gone through it over the years. We've been posted here for -- well, I think it's been five months now."

She glanced across the table.

"We rescued Masil and Jordan out of Ruddlan three months ago," she said. "And found Elrick and Maisy about four months ago. Lyall was a part of the team with Robin and I when we were posted here."

Hild followed Mel's gaze. A team? Implications spun in her mind, but nothing took hold.

"When did you first meet my brother?" she asked instead.

"Well, I think it was maybe six years ago when my brother and I found him in the Outlands. He was fleeing the Isles, back then," Mel said slowly, watching Hild like she was searching her face to see if she was catching on, but then spoke anyway.

"We're part of a network of mages," she explained quietly. "We've been working in secret for many years, trying to rescue mages where we can to offer them safety and family when they're rejected by or torn away from their own. This is a home base where we bring back people we've rescued to recover."

She paused, glancing over at Jordan and Lyall again, who were still in the midst of friendly debate.

"There aren't too many of us," Mel said. "But more than you'd think. Many of us hide in plain sight, but as I'm sure you know, mages are hard to find. We're very good at being secretive and staying so."

Hild nodded again.

Six years ago. So he and his family were found shortly after they parted ways. They had support for the better portion of their journey since the fire.

Turning her eyes down to her hands, Hild exhaled slowly as the realization released a hidden tension in her chest.

Had Viktor been found by the network too? And Ulf and his family?

She turned back to Mel with a slight smile. "I'm glad he's had friends like you around," she said softly. "I...worried about him. Often."

Mel offered Hild a small, supportive smile.

"I know he's happy to see you again too," Mel said softly. "His whole face would light up when he would talk about you, you know."

Hild laughed quietly as she exhaled. "I'm sure he didn't always paint the most flattering picture," she said lightly.

Mel smiled, looking off to the side in amusement.

"Not always," Mel said. "But it's clear he really loves you and that's what matters."

Twisting her finger against her palm, Hild glanced off, not knowing how exactly to answer that.

"We caught word that another Ashlund joined our network about four years back. We haven't had a chance to meet with them because they're posted far up north, but Lyall confirmed it was someone in your family," Mel said. "Ulf? A brother of yours?"

Sitting straighter again, Hild turned wide eyes back to Mel. "That's excellent," she said, letting out a relieved breath. "With his family, right?"

"That's what we heard," Mel said. "With his wife and kids."

Another tight knot in her chest loosened. Hild exhaled slowly.

"Thank you, Mel," she murmured. "I-- You have settled a lot of...lingering fears that I never thought I'd be rid of. I feel indebted to you."

"No debts owed here," Mel said softly. "I'm happy to be the bearer of good news. That itself is reward enough for me."

Hild silently nodded this time. Her throat had tightened just a little, and she didn't trust her voice to stay steady anymore.

"Don't forget to finish your food," Mel said gently, nodding to Hild's plate as she returned to eating herself, leaving the conversation there.

Her appetite was diminished, mostly from traveling light for months and in part from their most recent plight. Per Mel's prompting, though, Hild managed to finish her food.

Conversation petered out as more mouths filled with food. Eventually someone opened the kitchen door and entered on heavy feet. Robin trudged in still looking half asleep, and plopped down at Hild's other side where the bench was empty. Wordlessly, he reached across the table and started piling a lot of food on his plate. Namely taking part in the grilled meat, which took up half his plate.

Without looking at anyone, Robin started eating quickly, like he was starved. Hild couldn't help but stare for a moment, then directed her gaze down to her own empty plate to keep from being rude.

Though she could hardly begin to fully understand the inner-workings, Hild gathered that healing took a lot out of a mage.

She never could find any literary materials to learn about mages. Dozens of questions whirled in her head, but she kept them to herself since a lot of her thoughts were only half-formed lately.

Peeking back up at Robin, Hild was struck by amusement for a moment as she pondered if the man could out-eat James.

Tugging on the sleeve of her sweater, she glanced back toward the door again.

At some point in what James could only presume was the morning (seeing as there were no windows, and there was no natural light) a woman with dark skin and very short, dyed blonde hair came in to check on them. James learned that her name was Mel, and she'd found him that night in the forest soon after he'd been shot.

He felt like he was supposed to remember something important about her, but nothing came to him. Instead, Mel started to fill in the blanks, and while she explained what happened the night before, James couldn't help but feel like it was all information he'd been told already, even though he couldn't remember it. Still, he appreciated getting caught up, even if it was for the... well, he didn't know how many times.

Mel had healing magic, and that was something he wasn't sure how to feel about. It started to uncover old memories of his friend that he lost, ones he tried not to think about. Another healing mage. One who'd also saved his life before, but he'd been unable to save hers in return.

He tried to push the memories down, but it didn't help that his head felt cloudy. That, he learned, was because of the drugs Mel and Lyall had given him to keep him from waking up in shock and disturbing his still-tender gunshot wound where they'd painstakingly taken the time to pull out any remnants of the bullet. Frankly, he wasn't in a position to argue seeing as they'd saved his life, and he was indebted to them, but he still felt unsettled seeing the clear liquid drip slowly into his veins through the needle in his arm.

"You won't be needing this for much longer," Mel told him, as if she could read his discomfort on his face.

That was another thing he didn't like about painkillers and other drugs. It always seemed to make his emotions more transparent.

He wasn't sure how much of his discomfort came across when Mel used her magic to heal some of the wound, but she did so anyway, explaining to him that she'd be healing him incrementally throughout the week to speed up the recovery process but that she wouldn't do it all at once. Something about traumatic injury and psychological side-effects.

Regardless, he didn't argue.

He was the one lying prone on a bed, after all.

Once Mel had finished, she lowered the dosage of drugs going into his arm and finally disconnected him from what she told him had been a blood supply to compensate for his extreme blood loss. James found himself thinking back to previous injuries and how useful access to something like that might've been if he hadn't (as was most often the case) been isolated from civilization, somewhere far out in the wilderness. He might've recovered faster, or simply just better, but it was all in the past, anyway.

Eventually Mel left him to check on Caspar, detatching him from his blood supply as well as she looked him over, making sure all was well. She made a few soft comments that James wasn't really able to pick up as she and Caspar spoke quietly to each other, but he heard something about bruising, and Mel healed him up a bit more (to what seemed to be Caspar's chagrin, but James knew it was likely because he just had trouble accepting the help which James could understand).

When Mel departed, she made a comment about how it was still early in the morning, but James didn't know what early meant to her.

When he and Caspar were left alone, James could remember them exchanging a few words, but he didn't know what they were, because at some point - and for all he knew, it could've been mid-sentence - he fell back asleep.

When he started coming to again, his head was finally starting to feel clearer. Things came back to him slowly. The important things.

They were in an underground hideout with mages. The mages had found them and saved them. Lyall, Hild's brother was among them. Butch and Ivar were dead. Hild and Caspar were okay. The horses were okay. He'd almost died, but was as okay as he could be, all things considered.

He was still lying down when he woke up, and still hooked up to an IV line. Caspar sat up in bed, leaning against the wall, eyes turned to the back of the room as he rubbed the side of his neck. He sighed quietly once, but was otherwise silent.

James decided to let him have a moment to himself. Staring up at the celing, James just tried to remember what happened in the last few hours.

Frankly, he could only remember small bits and pieces.

Running off with Hild in his arms, leaving Caspar behind.

Circling with Ivar in the dark on horseback. Three gunshots.

Blood. Lots of blood, and Hild looking down at him.

He blinked hard, taking in a slow, deliberate breath, trying to tell himself that it was okay. They were alright, now, even if he couldn't remember all of the details in between. That was the one thing everyone kept trying to reassure him of. They were safe.

He heard the door to the infirmary open up, and he tilted his head, trying to see who it was, though to no avail. Mel had strictly ordered him to stay put on bed rest, and frankly he didn't want to deal with an angry doctor or the possible side effects of moving. He was under the influence of painkillers, though, and he had a feeling if he wanted to move, he at least wouldn't feel it if anything went wrong. Which, of course, was why he wasn't supposed to move.

A chair was pulled close by his bed, and Hild sat down with his bag in her arms.

"Mr. Hawke," she greeted. "Please hold still."

James obeyed. It wasn't like he was told to do anything different, anyway. Carefully, his glasses were slipped on around his face. Hild then leaned back with her hands folded in her lap. James could finally see clearly again, and he looked to Hild first.

"It is now 10:49 AM," she said, "though it probably doesn't make a difference right now, knowing the exact time." She offered a slight smile, eyes flicking up Caspar's way, and added, "Regardless, good morning."

James turned his head to look to Cas.

"Good morning," he said as well.

With an arm folded across his middle and his hand still resting over the side of his neck, Caspar nodded to them and murmured, "Morning."

James turned his head again to Hild. He wished they'd both sat on the same side, but supposed there wasn't much he could do about it.

"It's nice to see you," James said. It wasn't meant to be a joke, but he realized after he said it that it was unintentionally something of a glasses pun.

With a flat look, Hild set the bag down on the floor and replied, "Yes, I'm sure."

James grinned. Hild's lips quirked up a quick, amused smile, then she turned her eyes down as she absently turned her finger in her palm.

"Did you get any sleep?" James asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Per my brother's insistence."

"Good," James said. "Because I slept a lot too. Though some of that was drug-induced."

Hild did not look amused. In fact, she looked almost apologetic. "I know," she said hastily, "but it was necessary, and you won't have to stay on it for long."

It took James a second, but then he understood her. The last time he'd been in this kind of situation - which was really, only less than three months ago - he'd refused the opportunity to take Lumshade to relieve the pain.

There were layers to that, though. Ones he didn't think he should peel back at the moment.

"Oh-- oh, it's-- don't worry about it, Hild," James said quickly. "I know. Mel was here earlier and she explained that to me. I know it's for the best. And, well, I wouldn't want to give her a hard time. She already had to dig a bullet out of me."

Nodding, Hild sat straighter. "Ah, good. You've met Mel." Her voice was faint, but genuinely pleased.

"Yeah," James said. "Probably the strongest mage I've met."

Hild tilted her head. "You've met mages before?"

James blinked.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as clear-headed as he thought. He'd said that out loud, didn't he?

He hesitated a little before nodding.

"Well--yes," he answered, looking away. "Only a handful personally."

Eyes brightening, Hild leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, and resting her chin in her hand. "What kinds of magic did they have?"

James stared at Hild for a moment, torn between how to share and the look of pure, unbridled curiosity on Hild's face as she looked at him expectantly. He let out a short breath and offered her a small, admittedly nervous smile as he looked again to the side in thought.

"Well... for a time I was traveling with a few... friends, I suppose," James explained slowly. "The circumstances in which we met were unusal. But there was a young girl among us by the name of Adina. She actually had a very rare magic, where she was able to manipulate small pockets of time. It-- well, I never fully understood it myself, and she too was still learning how to use it. But she was able to reverse something from happening within a small space as long as her reaction time was quick. She was only ever able to reverse by a few seconds, though. At least, when I knew her."

"Impressive nonetheless," Hild said with a hum. "How many mages are known to possess that ability?"

Were James more mobile, he would've shrugged. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and managed to shift one shoulder just a little.

"As far as I know, she's the only one," James said. "I'd never heard of a time mage before I met her. She never did share too much about her magic, though that was largely due to the fact that she'd only recently discoverd she had it. Apparently, he mother was a time mage and left her personal journal behind after her passing. I think that had something to do with Adina's discovery of her own magic, but unfortunately she never had a time mage to learn from since her mother was gone."

"Was she left with any written instruction, or did she have to teach herself entirely?" Hild asked.

"I think her mother's journal might have had some insight on the matter, but she never shared any of that with me personally," James answered. "And I never did ask."

She nodded, gaze turned to the wall for a moment as she thought. "I believe our mother instructed Lyall on how to properly harness his magic. In secret, though, so I never had a chance to observe. She always explained that it was a necessary precaution."

"I'm sure she was just trying to keep you safe," James said softly.

"She was," Hild agreed with a small smile, "of course. I was just--" Her eyes flicked down to the floor, then back to James. "I didn't always fully understand, but I do now."

James offered her a small smile for comfort.

"That's kind of how life works," James said. "We understand more as we get older."

Hild's smile softened, into something almost sad. "Yes," she murmured, "that is, isn't it? Once again, however, the timing of it all could use work."

Before either of them could dwell on that thought any longer, she sat straight again and folded her arms. "Have you met a fire mage before?"

"Not to my knowledge," James answered. "Why?"

Hild tilted her head a little, and there was a knowing spark in her eyes. "As of early this morning, you now know one."

James narrowed his eyes at her slightly in confusion, and he looked to the side, trying to search his memory. This morning. This morning.

He could remember meeting Mel, but everything before that was a hazy blur of faces and voices that blended together into a muddy mess that was incomprehensible. But he did recall that Mel mentioned Lyall had helped with the surgery, and that was the only other person he could think of that he might've interacted with.

He squinted even more.

A fuzzy face came back to him. A man with curly hair and green eyes who bore resemblance to Hild. He'd made Hild upset, but that was all he could remember, and he couldn't remember the context as to why.

"Your brother," he said slowly. "I think I remember. A little."

Hild flashed him a slight, sincere smile. "Yes, he's the one. Your deduction skills are still intact."

"Can't say the same about my memory," James muttered. "Though I'd like to blame it on the blood loss."

"Sadly, there are multiple factors working against you there," Hild said gently. "You'll be fine, though."

"If I keep asking the same questions over and over," James said. "Please bear with me. I promise I'm not trying to be obnoxious."

Her eyes and smile softened. "Of course."

James smiled softly in return, letting his gaze linger on her for just a moment before he quickly looked away, deciding to check on Caspar. It appeared that Caspar had dozed off. His arms had fallen, loosely crossed over his middle, and his head leaned back on the wall. With his hand no longer covering it, James could make out black and blue bruises on his neck.

Familiar with bruising patterns from choke holds, James recognized them immediately, and his chest tightened with a pang of guilt.

If he'd stayed close... if he'd not left Caspar behind...

His brows drew together, and he looked away, turning his head back towards Hild. It didn't help to think too much about what could've been. As it stood, the current outcome ended with all of them alive, which was better than many of the other possibilities. He needed to focus on that.

Eyes turning back to Hild, he scanned her quickly before he met her eyes again.

"You didn't get hurt, right?" he asked quietly, though he had a feeling he might've asked her that already.

Having followed his gaze, she flicked equally concerned eyes from Caspar back to James. Hild inclined her head, matching his tone as she answered, "Unscathed. Thank you."

James's expression softened with a small, but genuine smile.

"Good," he said, keeping his voice low.

But the words left unsaid in-between were that he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant she'd come out unscathed again.

He only wished he could've done the same for Caspar too.

James swallowed, feeling the tension that his own thoughts brought to the short silence that followed.

"So, uh--" James started.

"Do you--" Hild began at the same time, then stopped short.

"You go," James said quickly.

"I-- No, it's fine," Hild replied hastily.

"Go ahead," James insisted, looking to her with raised brows.

Please. He was probably going to say something stupidly impulsive anyway. He was hoping she would spare him.

Looking askance, she lifted a hand to her chin, brows twitching inward a little in thought.

"How much," she started again, slowly, "do you remember of my brother's visit?"

James pursed his lips, twisting them to the side with a shrug of his mouth.

"I don't remember much," James admitted. "I think he made you annoyed, though. Which I suppose seems... brotherly in character? If I remember that correctly?"

Hild hummed a half-hearted laugh. "Ah. Yes, that did happen."

"Hopefully I didn't make a dreadful first impression," James mumbled. "Though I guess, maybe my first impression was the uh-- you know--"

Bleeding out on the forest floor? James cleared his throat.

"Well, hopefully I didn't say anything too embarassing," James said.

Hild grinned, a bit tight-lipped. "You were perfectly charming," she said lightly. "I'm sure my brother would be willing to give you another chance at a proper first impression."

James found himself looking away, trying to put on more confidence than he felt.

"I'd like that," James said, but it still felt timid.

Hild hummed again. "Hopefully when you're--"

The door cracked open, and a little head curiously peeked into the room. Hild straightened, stiff. She started to say something, likely in greeting, but the small child loudly shushed her and dove under one of the beds.

Hild pursed her lips, looking put-off by the interruption, but said with a pleasant tone of voice, "I don't believe we were introduced yet."

The little girl popped up at James's other side with a stern look.

"I'm trying to hide," she whispered urgently. James nodded in understanding, and the girl disappeared again.

"So, Hild, as you were saying?" James said, looking to Hild.

Hild blinked. "Ah. Yes, right. Well, hopefully once you--"

The door opened wider, and Lyall slid in, scanning the room intently. Another young girl, slightly older looking than the first, was right on his heels.

"An invader has slipped past our defenses," Lyall declared, "but fear not! We shall locate and neutralize the threat immediately."

The older girl dutifully dove under the beds, as the younger had, and there were exaggerated grunts and shuffling as she crawled. Lyall lept up onto a table, scouring the floors from a higher vantage point.

"Dragons above!" he said when his eyes landed on James, his hands flying up into his wild hair in a show of distress. "She's already wounded one. She shan't get away with it that easily, mark my words, good sir."

James dramatically lifted a hand to his forehead, pretending to faint.

"They're ruthless, I tell you," he said dramatically with his eyes closed. "Please, do find her."

"We haven't a moment to lose," Lyall said direly, clasping his hands behind his back like a military officer. "Cy, report."

The older girl appeared by Caspar, her expression grave as she boomed, "Didn't find her under here, sir."

Caspar startled awake, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, and frantically scanned the room. "What--"

"There's a very important mission going on," James explained matter-of-factly. "Let them work."

Brows furrowed and still a little disoriented, Caspar simply nodded. The girl Cy climbed up onto the bed and pushed on Caspar's back to check behind him. Brows now raised, Caspar twisted around to see for himself.

"I don't think--" he started, but Cy had already moved on.

She then ducked under James's bed with a polite, "Excuse me."

"I already checked under there," James said. "It's clear."

As soon as he had finished speaking, there was a delighted squeal as the younger girl scrambled out the other side. She swung around Hild's chair with Cy in hot pursuit.

Lyall gasped. "The gall to harbor a fugitive and lie to our faces about it. There will be consequences!"

"I accept my fate," James said, raising his hands at either side in surrender. "I regret nothing and would do it again."

The girls wove around the beds in an intense game of chase. Lyall eventually dropped down in front of them and grabbed the younger girl, hoisting her up over his shoulder. Giggling uncontrollably, she reached her hands out toward Hild and James.

"Help meeee!" she shouted, still smiling wide with dimples in her cheeks.

"I'd be able to if you hadn't wounded me," James said, reaching out a hand but falling short.

"The plot thickens," Lyall mused. "We'll need to investigate." Turning to Cy, he stood at attentin, and she followed suit.

"Excellent work," he said, inclining his head, "you will be promptly promoted once this rascal has been dealt with."

Cy gave a salute, saying plainly, "It's what I deserve."

Lyall then turned his eyes to James. "You sir shall also be dealt with shortly. I have assigned my most fearsome guards to keep watch until then." He made a sweeping gesture to Hild and Caspar. Caspar huffed a laugh, and Hild only rolled her eyes.

"Very fearsome," James agreed straight-facedly.

"I will return." Lyall gave a resolute nod. He turned on his heel and marched out. "Shall it be the sea monster or the whirlpool with you, little miss?"

The younger girl laughed as she kicked and twisted to escape his hold, dramatically crying, "Noooo!" as they disappeared into the hall. Cy followed them out with a quiet, "Good morning," as she shut the door behind herself.

James watched for a moment as the door closed behind them, and then turned to look back to Hild.

"So you're going to have to stay and watch me, then?" he asked with a small smirk.

Hild pursed her lips. "I suppose so."

"I promise to behave," James said. "Maybe."

He flicked a glance to Caspar.

"Okay, so no promises," he corrected.

Caspar just smiled in response as he settled back against the wall again.

"You're hardly in a state for mischief," Hild said breezily. "I'm not worried."

James raised a hand, with his elbow still resting on the bed as he pointed a finger at her.

"Don't tempt me," he said playfully. "I could figure something out."

Tilting her head, she narrowed her gaze at him, but her eyes still glinted with amusement. "Don't push it, Hawke."

James narrowed his eyes back at her in return, barely keeping back a smile as he held her gaze.

Then he looked away and sighed, pretending to relent. But just a second after, reached out and booped her nose with his pointer finger, unable to hold back a grin. With a startled glare, Hild grabbed his wrist and pinned his hand down. Off to the side, Caspar stifled a laugh.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hild released his wrist and sat straight again. She cleared her throat and said evenly, "I'm glad you're in a good mood. Refrain from doing that again."

"I will do my best," James said, folding his hands on his stomach to show he would keep them to himself.

She nodded. "Good."

"You know, this is why I don't do drugs," James said. "No self control. It's a problem, really."

Hild hummed. "So I gather."

"You know," he continued. "The pain normally-- it keeps it all--"

He held his hands out over his stomach, rotating them like he was trying to create an invisible round shape.

"--in here," he said, pretending to crush the invisible ball as he laid his hands back on his chest, avoiding the bandaged wound.

"What-- Keeps what in?" Caspar asked quietly.

James blinked, realizing that his mouth was running away without him and he'd dug this hole for himself without thinking.

"Uh..." James faltered. "The uh, the tomfoolery. The childishness. Mischief."

There was a beat of silence.

"...Are you," Caspar said slowly, "saying that--" He glanced up at the ceiling as he thought. Then he looked back to James, brows furrowed, and tried again, "Are you often in pain?"

James stared at Caspar blankly, hesitating, unsure of how to respond.

He cleared his throat, trying to school his features and his voice so he could convincingly deliver the lie, but felt like he'd already failed when he saw Caspar and Hild's expressions.

"Not all the time," James said weakly. "I-- it's, I mean, no more than I ought to be with, well, all things considered and all, you know..."

Well, that didn't come out how he planned it in the slightest.

"I, um." Caspar drew his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. He bit his lip, then murmured, "I'm sorry. That that's a peristent thing for you."

James felt like all of the lighthearted silliness from only moments ago was sucked out of the room, and suddenly he felt very uncomfortably exposed. He pointedly avoided eye contanct with either Hild or Caspar and instead looked at an indeterminate point on the ceiling.

There was a part of him that felt the impulse to rip the needle out of his arm. Maybe that'd keep his mouth shut.

But he knew if he did that, that'd probably only make everyone more concerned and upset and... he wasn't sure what else.

Still, he thought about it.

"It's fine," he said stiffly. "It's-- I'm used to it."

He looked down, or rather, out into the room but away from the faces of Caspar and Hild on either side of him.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Hild asked gently.

James flicked his eyes to Hild - helplessly - and quickly looked away again.

"What am I supposed to say?" James asked, his eyebrows drawing together. "It's not like it would've made a difference."

"It does," Hild insisted. She lightly rested her hand on his arm. "We may not be able to change it, but we want to know these things about you."

James wanted to shrink away. To become smaller. Invisible. To dissapear.

He wrung his hands together over his ribcage as restlessness started to bite at his nerves, making him want to fidget and get up so he could turn away out of view. But lying on his back on a bed in the middle of room practically put him on display. He couldn't look at either of them.

Hild withdrew, and folded her hands on her lap again.

"...I've learned to push through it," James said quietly. "I don't even think about it much anymore."

"You're resilient," Hild said with a hum. "You don't have to bear everything alone, though."

"I'm not sure I know how to share physical pain with people in a way that's not harmful," James said as a poor attempting at lightening up the conversation.

Arching a brow, Hild gave him an unamused look. After a moment's delay, Caspar huffed a laugh.

"At least I'm still funny," James said, looking to Caspar.

With a small grin, Caspar just shrugged.

"You're really sometimes not," Hild said.

"I'm not perfect," James said, looking back to her with a tired smile.

"You do need sleep, though," she countered plainly.

"I've slept so much already," James defended. "Hours, even."

Hild crossed her arms. "Sleep a few more hours, anyway."

"Right now?" James asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Works for me." She reached over to take his glasses.

"Hey!" he lifted his hand and grabbed her wrist to stop her. "I like being able to see."

"You can have them back soon enough," she chirped. With her free hand, she successfully slipped the glasses off and set them on his bag on the floor, out of reach.

And now Hild was a little blurry.

James let out a defeated sigh, shooting her a slightly pleading, disappointed look.

She tilted her head and pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'll keep them within reach. Just make sure you rest when your body needs it."

"Thank you, Hild," James sing-songed, his expression shifting quickly into a pleased smile.

Still appearing unamused, Hild neatly folded up the glasses and set them by his head. "Are you fe--"

The door swung open again, and Lyall popped his head in around the doorway. He beamed. "Excellent! You are awake."

James looked at Lyall, but from the distance, he was blurry. James reached by his head for his glasses and put them back on.

"You know, his timing really is something," he mumbled so only Hild could hear.

"Yes, impeccable," she muttered.

With his glasses perched on his nose, James could more clearly see Lyall as he padded over by Hild. He hooked his toe under the stool and pulled it underneath himself as he dropped down, sitting with one leg crossed over his other knee and his chin resting in his hand.

"Since you're still up," he said pleasantly, "we may as well finish our conversation from earlier. Seeing as you never answered my last question, because I was forced to flee unexpectedly. So?"

James stared at him, genuinely clueless.

"I'm... sorry," James said slowly. "Unfortunately, I haven't retained much from the past morning. Or night. I'm not sure what question you're referring to."

Snapping his fingers, Lyall nodded in understanding. "Of course. Well, see, I was asking about your travels leading up until last night. While Hild was about ready to rip my head off, you were gracious enough to answer, thus I was able to gauge the state of your mind based on the state of your memory-- it's in good shape, by the way, you are all set there. Sensing that our time was short--"

"It still is," Hild said lowly.

Lyall waved dismissively. "He's fine, I won't linger long." He turned back to James. "One of the most pressing questions at the moment concerns the nature of your relationship with my sister. Tell me as little or as much as you'd like, but also do try to not leave out anything." With a wide, toothy smile, he inclined his head, giving James the floor now to answer.

Ah.

So that would explain Hild's annoyance.

James stared at Lyall for a moment, reigning in the anxiety that compounded in his chest to keep it from showing so much on his face. From a brother's perspective, he understood what Lyall was doing. There was the mix of childish enjoyment at messing with his sister combined with the sincere desire to protect her. It was the latter that was most important, because James knew that despite the context in which the question was being asked, it was still a very real question that deserved a real answer.

It was just... not ideal to have the conversation with Lyall before he even had it with Hild.

Before he even had it with himself.

"Ah, you know what?" Lyall cut in before James could even start, "I don't think I ever properly introduced myself. Where are my manners?"

Standing abruptly, he bowed deeply at the waist with a broad flourish of his hand. "Doctor Lyall Ashlund, general physician and surgeon, at your service." He straightened and flashed another grin. "Feel free to ask for my credentials, though I wouldn't recommend it, seeing as I haven't officially practiced with a license for years, which may or may not undermine your confidence in my abilities, though I'm sure the patched up hole in your gut is arguably plenty evidence that I am more than qualified." He made a sweeping gesture toward James. "And you are?"

James cleared his throat lightly, nodding at Lyall's formal introduction and the sudden sharp turn of conversation - but grateful for it. It seemed that Lyall caught on to the unspoken tension and decided to skirt around it. Which was for the best at the moment.

Like he said, they didn't know much about each other at all just yet.

But now that it was his turn for an introduction, James realized that it was clear that Lyall didn't already know who he was - which meant he'd have to explain everything again. He didn't have a formal title, or a real job. None of those things applied to him anymore, and they hadn't for a long while.

Well, it was better to cut to the chase. It was going to come out sooner or later.

"James Hawke," he introduced, offering Lyall his hand for a firm handshake. "Formerly Lieutenant Hawke of the Moonlight Kingdom Palace Guard, now a wanted criminal. Pleased to meet you."

Lyall firmly clasped hands with him and shook, and cast Caspar a pleased smile. "You've always kept interesting company," he said brightly. He sat back down on the stool. "A pleasure to make acquaintances with a former-lieutenant, now-wanted criminal. I don't come by them very often."

"Most of them don't make it this far," James said too-casually. "So the odds are pretty low."

"And how long have you maintained this now-wanted status?" Lyall asked, tone perfectly conversational.

"Roughly five years," James said. "Getting close to six, now."

Lyall nodded, looking rather impressed. "Packing on those years of experience. Really helps round out a resume."

"If you know anyone who's hiring, let me know," James deadpanned.

"I'll be sure to put in a good word for you as well," Lyall replied, grinning, cat-like.

He turned to Hild, who glared daggers back at him, and he said in a mock whisper, "I have just decided I shan't in fact punch him in the face. I rather like the sound of him already."

Narrowing her gaze at him, Hild bit out through a forced smile, "Lovely. Calder and I shall rejoice now that he has your official seal of approval."

There was a quiet laugh, and Caspar at last murmured, "We like him too."

Lyall's grin brightened significantly, looking encouraged by Caspar's input.

James wasn't sure how to respond to being talked about like he wasn't there, so he waited for it to be over.

"I imagine you're well-traveled," Lyall said, quick to move along the conversation. "Have you been to the Isles?"

James kept a calm expression, but he had to prepare himself for talking about his travels. He hoped that it would go more in the direction of Lyall's experience in the Isles but things rarely went how he hoped.

"I have, actually," James answered simply.

"Wonderful," Lyall said. "Nice place, truly. No place like home and all that sentimental twaddle. I heartell the ocean is quite a sight. Never did visit it myself, far too much water for my liking."

James nodded.

"Understandable," he said. "Though I'm surprised you avoided seeing the ocean while being so close to it."

Crossing his arms and leaning back, Lyall hummed. "The walls of Bastille did a fine job of blocking it from of view."

"Ah. So you were more inland," James murmured with a nod. "Makes sense."

"Yes, thank gods." His eyes flicked past James, and his expression softened just a little. "Though it did make Cas quite homesick for awhile during his visit."

He sat forward again, elbows on his knees, the brevity in his countenance dissipating. "I'm curious, Mr. Hawke," he said, voice low and brows drawn, "how well did you know Ivar Hansen?"

Oh. James felt the tension in his chest return slightly. The question seemed to bring just a little more back than before. Ivar had caught up with him only moments after James had separated from Hild, and he'd circled around him in the dark of the forest. Two shadows mirroring each other, both ready to pull the trigger.

They'd spoken again, before Ivar fell off his horse with two bullets in him. Dead.

What were the man's last words?

I think we've sat with dissapointment long enough?

As if blinking alone could shake away the haunting memory, James tried to respond without too much delay.

"Well," he started, his voice tense along with the rest of him. "I knew him from the army. The Moonlight Kingdom army and the guilds are closely intertwined. I never had a very personal relationship with him, but we were aquaintences. He probably knew more about me by word of mouth than I ever knew about him from our limited conversations."

Lyall nodded. His eyes turned piercing as he studied James, turning over all of the information he was given, quickly making connections and forming new questions. After a strangely long moment of silence, Lyall grinned again, more subdued this time, and held out his hand to him.

"I've taken up enough of your time and energy," he said, voice soft now. "I welcome you to our humble abode, and do hope you enjoy your stay."

James reached over and took Lyall's hand, giving it another steady shake before pulling away.

"Thank you," James said sincerely. "For helping to save my life, and Hild and Caspar's. You've all been more than generous."

Rising to his feet, Lyall inclined his head. "Mel and the others are quite incredible like that, yes," he said brightly.

"I was thanking you too," James emphasized.

His smile tamed, and Lyall glanced past him again. Caspar quietly met his gaze, and something unspoken and deep-running, almost like sorrow, was shared between them.

"As for me," Lyall said gently, looking back down to James, "it's truly the least I could do." He stepped away, adding, "Someone will be in to check on you soon. Until then, I advise you stay put."

"Got it," James said with a nod.

He was pretty sure if he tried to move anyway that either Caspar or Hild (or both) would just as soon tackle him back down to his bed if necessary. So, no moving for him.

With a conclusive nod of his own, Lyall left without another word. The door was carefully closed behind him.

Hild let out a breath and murmured, "At last." She turned to James, leaning back in her chair, more relaxed now. "I'm sorry, my brother can't help but poke incessantly at something new and of interest."

"It's alright," James said. "I think I survived. And hopefully made a better impression than the last time that I can't remember."

"You did great, bud," Caspar said softly. "He really does seem to like you."

James looked to Caspar, eyebrows slightly raised.

"You think so?" James asked.

Caspar nodded, a gentle smile growing on his face. "He offered the second handshake."

If Caspar thought to mention it, the second handshake had to be of significance. James was going to take it as a victory.

He looked to Hild, his eyes bright as he felt strangely giddy. Part of him wanted to blame it on the pain-killers exaggerating his sense of elation, but regardless, he was happy.

"I think this is going to over-inflate my ego," James said as he pushed back a smile. "Quick. Hild. Humble me before my head gets too big."

"You actually laugh at Caspar's terrible jokes," she answered smoothly, "and sometimes you lose a bit of my respect for it."

Caspar scoffed in mock offense.

"I can't help it that I have a broad sense of humor," James said. "You know, there's not nearly enough laughter in this world. I have to take what I can get where I can."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Fair enough," she said lightly.

"And I do think you are funny, Caspar," James said with a turn of his head. "Unashamedly so."

Caspar smiled, with teeth this time. "Two to one," he said, voice lilting playfully. "I'm funny."

Hild leveled him with a glare without any real heat it in. "I just might willingly call my brother back, if only to have one other human being with some sense in here."

"I can be sensible," James retorted playfully. "I'm sensible all the time."

"It comes more in small bouts," Hild countered, tone flat but eyes sparkling.

"It's about maintaining a healthy, balanced lifestyle," James said with a grin.

"Variety is the spice of life, after all," Caspar agreed.

Hild huffed. "This is a losing battle with the both of you, I see that now."

"Alright, alright," James said quickly. "I want to hear a joke or a story that makes you laugh."

Hild tilted her head with a small grin. "You'll have to find one, Mr. Hawke."

"I will give it my best effort," James said. "If only to hear you laugh again."

She hummed. "You have my best wishes with this endeavor."

James grinned softly, letting his gaze linger on her a little while longer.

"Thank you for your blessing," he said.

With a small smile, she just bowed her head with a flourish of her hand. When she straightened again, there was a hint of a flush in her cheeks. At that, he felt his own face get a little warm.

James stared at her a little longer, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavy.

Blinking slowly, he hummed in the back of his throat.

"You think I can eat, with a... with my stomach the way it is?" he asked slowly, realizing the question might've been stupid a little too late.

"Perhaps wait on that a little more," Hild answered plainly.

"Okay," James said quietly.

He wasn't actually that hungry, but that was likely because he couldn't feel much of any kind of pain at the moment.

He blinked again, his eyelids coming down and up slower than the last. He found himself still staring at Hild, getting lost in the features of her face as he felt eyes tempt to shut on their own.

Hild leaned a little closer, and the glasses were slipped off again.

"Hey," James protested in a weak mumble, but couldn't muster the energy to move.

"They'll still be close by for when you wake again," she said gently.

"I was... I was looking at... the flecks in your eyes," he mumbled more.

She fell quiet for a moment, then said, "Get some sleep, James."

"I always say stuff when I'm sleepy," James continued, his words blending together as his eyes shut on their own. "This stuff... really knocks me out."

He tried to fight the pull of sleep, but he was quickly losing the battle. The lights in the room seemed to dim behind his eyelids, and the silence of the hollowed out, underground infirmary swallowed him up once more.

With James asleep again, and his own limbs feeling heavy with inactivity, Caspar threw off his blanket and scooted to the edge of his bed. Hild cast him a hard look, to which Caspar really only had the energy to wave off as he pushed himself to his feet.

"M'good," he said dismissively, "the worst of it's passed for me."

Hild pursed her lips, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly as she glanced him over.

He felt steadier now, thankfully, just sluggish. She must have agreed with his self-assessment, because she didn't argue with him as he shook the fog from his head and shuffled out.

Clicking the door shut, Caspar turned-- and jumped when he found Lyall's younger daughter standing right behind him. He leaned back on the doorframe, letting out a breath.

"Gods, you're like a mouse," he murmured.

The girl stuck out a hand with a wide, dimpled smile. "I beat the whirlpool," she said brightly.

Caspar blinked, confused, then remembered the pretend scenario of her capture just a little earlier. He bent down and lightly shook her hand. "How'd you do that?"

She shook with her entire arm, then pulled him along down the hallway. "It was easy," she chirped. "I just kicked him really hard, but not too hard because I didn't want to hurt him too bad. He finally let go, so I ran as fast as I could."

"Ah. A solid strategy," Caspar said. He had to stoop a little so she didn't have to reach as much otherwise.

"I'm Lilya."

He nodded. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks!"

As they passed each door, Caspar caught glimpses of inside each room, finding every face that he recalled seeing the night prior. But he never saw Lyall's wife.

"Papa said you'd be really tired and slow," Lilya said, "but I didn't think you'd go this slow. That's okay, though, because you got hurt. He also said you're probably hungry, so I'm gonna show you the kitchen. Just maybe don't touch the knifes, because you could cut yourself, and Papa said you can't afford to lose anymore blood."

True to her word, she turned them into a kitchen and dining area. Caspar huffed a laugh.

"I'll avoid the knives," he said softly.

Lilya ushered him over to the bench. Once he was situated at the table, she hoisted herself up onto the counter and poked around for snacks. Caspar watched, a little nervously, as she stepped over a pile of clean dishes to a bowl of fruit.

"Do you have algaes?" she asked, her small voice pitching even higher with concern. "Cy has algaes, so she can't have fruit unless we cook it."

Caspar repeated the word under his breath until he caught on. "Oh, no. Not that I'm aware of."

Lilya nodded and, with a twirl of her hand as she searched the bowl, grabbed two apples. She scooted to the edge of the counter, then hopped down once she made sure the ground below was clear for landing. Then she dashed over to the bench at top speed and hopped up next to him.

"I wanted to go that fast," she declared proudly, holding out one of the apples to him, "but didn't because then I couldn't show you the kitchen if I did."

Caspar accepted the apple with a nod and small smile. "Well, I appreciate it," he said sincerely. "I could've lost my way on my own."

"You could've," she agreed gravely, brows pinching together as she nodded. "That's why I held your hand."

Caspar hummed. "Fair enough."

Soft footsteps approached, and when Caspar turned to see who it was, he saw that it was Mel, the woman who'd helped heal him in the forest. She had a simple dusty red short-sleeved dress on that reached to her ankles, and a colorful head wrap over her hair. She was looking at Lilya with a small grin as she approached the two of them at the table.

"Are you being a good host to our new friend Caspar?" Mel asked Lilya with a smile.

Lilya took a big bite out of her apple and beamed. "Yup!" she said around her mouthful. "And I hid the knifes so he doesn't cut himself."

"That's very good," Mel said as she slid onto the bench at his other side. "I'm glad you're looking out for him."

Caspar leaned back a little so Lilya and Mel could see each other. "She's a fantastic guide as well."

"She's an excellent explorer," Mel agreed. "She knows every inch of this place better than anyone, right Lilya?"

Lilya nodded, her eyes sparkling as she practically glowed with all the praise. "I'm the only one who can squeeze into the really small spaces."

Caspar raised both brows. "That is impressive."

Still smiling, Lilya tapped the apple in his hands. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Ah, yes."

Caspar made a show of buffing the side of the apple to a satisfactory shine before taking a large bite. With a grin, Lilya did the same with the other side of her own apple.

Now that he'd taken a bite, Caspar realized that he was in fact rather hungry. The apple was gone before he knew it. Lilya stared with wide eyes. She waved a hand as she leaned in. Caspar tilted his ear down toward her as she whispered, "Did you eat the seeds?"

Caspar glanced off in thought. "I may have," he whispered back.

Lilya grimaced. "You're gonna have to go fast, before a tree grows inside of you."

Ducking his head, Caspar stifled a laugh behind his hand. "Will do."

Satisfied that that crisis had been averted, Lilya straightened again, swinging her legs as she ate at a more reasonable pace.

The space at Caspar's other side was empty again. Mel stood at the counter now, chopping vegetables at a rapid, steady pace.

"Thank you," Caspar said suddenly. "For um. Last night. I never did thank you then, so." He nodded. "If there's any way I could begin to repay you..."

"You can repay me by eating some food," Mel said, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing grin. "I'm not sure when was the last time you had a substantial meal while you and your friends were travelling off the road, but it looks like you're in need of one regardless."

With a slight frown, Caspar noted that he wasn't entirely sure of that himself either.

"That seems hardly a start," he murmured, "but will do."

"The best thing anyone can do for me," Mel said while throwing a mix of vegetables into a bowl, "Is take care of themselves. Which remarkably is harder than it sounds."

Nodding again, Caspar glanced down at his hands. "S'fair."

"I'm talking more about your friend in the other room," Mel added, softer. "And a handful of other patients who seem to think they're invincible. Sorry, that wasn't directed at you."

He shook his head. "It's alright," he said quickly, "I understand."

Mel glanced back at him again, flashing a small, grateful smile.

"I hope you like salads," Mel said. "It's the quickest thing I can whip up at the moment for you."

"Yeah, that's perfect," Caspar answered, returning the smile with a small, earnest one of his own. "I appreciate it, thank you."

"Of course," Mel said as she started mixing things together in the bowl with a large spoon. "You know, we help a lot of people out here to get back on their feet. Most of them are coming from really difficult situations. Sometimes they come in hurt, like you, and hungry... normally we take in mages who are running from the law. From hunters and the like. It's not as often we get to host people who aren't mages, but Lyall speaks very highly of you. It's a privilege to have you with us."

Ducking his head again, Caspar huffed a laugh through his nose. He didn't know how exactly to respond to that last bit, so he opted to gloss over it. "It's incredible," he said softly, "the work you're doing out here. I had no idea that such a group existed. Not until James mentioned it one time, I think, anyhow."

Mel turned around with a hearty bowl of salad in her hands and walked across the room to set it down in front of him. There was already a fork sticking out of the leafy meal for him to dig in.

She paused though as she moved to sit back down next to him, shooting him a quizzical, almost concerned look.

"What did he mention, exactly?" Mel asked.

Caspar shifted in his spot, suddenly feeling a little less comfortable. He dug through the past months for their conversation. It was a fleeting moment, he could hardly remember the exact words.

"I mean." He furrowed his brows. "He just said that--"

Now he wasn't sure how much information he was allowed to divulge.

"I only ask," Mel said gently. "Because it's... well it's odd that he'd know about us. He's not a mage, and doesn't have any connections to us that I know of."

It was a security concern as well, he was sure, which was more than fair. Caspar decided that she deserved to know, at the very least enough to clear up any safety concerns.

"He's met mages before," he said quietly, "and mentioned secret groups of mages hiding in the wilderness." He scratched the back of his neck and added, "It was just us at the time, too, so nothing's slipped out where it shouldn't."

Mel seemed to relax a little as she nodded and offered him a small smile. The knots in Caspar's chest loosened, and he felt he could breathe again.

"I'm sure it was a surprise for you to run into us out here," she commented.

"Yeah," he answered, "it was." It was truly a strange mix of emotions the night prior, especially seeing Lyall when Caspar was sure they would never cross paths again. "Though the timing was pretty good, I guess."

He looked down to the salad, hesitating, oddly feeling as though he needed confirmation that he was allowed to eat. Then wondered if he should perhaps wait on James out of courtesy, but that sounded silly once he seriously considered the passing thought-- and he was sure anyone else would agree that that would be stupid.

With his mind made up and his empty stomach feeling like a vast void in desperate need of filling, Caspar gave Mel a nod of thanks and at last tucked in. He tried his best to pace himself, but the salad went down almost as quickly as the apple.

"Thank you," he said again, flashing a slightly sheepish smile as he set the fork back in the bowl. "Do you, um, have a garden for all this?"

"We do, actually," Mel said with a soft smile. "Maisy and Elrick take care of it, mostly. Maisy has plant related magic, and Elrick has earth magic, so they're able to keep it well even when the weather's a little more turbulent. It allows us to have our own source of fresh food out here."

"That's amazing," Caspar said sincerely. He glanced up in thought. "And you said you're a doctor, right? Did you decide on that career because of your healing magic?"

Mel let out a small laugh through her nose.

"Well, my mother was a doctor, actually," she said. "She practiced for years, and I learned under her when I was young. But my parents didn't have magic - at least, not to their knowledge. They both carried it in their genes from my grandparents, but they despised our magical heritage and actively locked it away. They always hoped that none of us would inherit it, but..."

She paused, shrugging with a small, sad smile.

"My younger brother and I had to run away when we were young and they discovered," Mel said. "I'd made the mistake of healing him, actually. He'd accidentally cut himself while making dinner, and I later healed his hand in secret. But when my parents saw that the cut was gone only hours later, when it would normally take more time to heal, they finally put two and two together."

"I was sixteen at the time, and my brother Raj was fourteen. I never did get to learn everything my mother might've had to teach me, so I had to continue my studies on my own. Unfortunately, that means I've never been officially licensed, but I've had plenty of practical experience that I think makes up for it," Mel said as her smile grew a little more.

Caspar smiled softly in turn. "I can attest, you are excellent at what you do."

Mel's smile grew wider.

"I'm happy I was able to help you, Caspar," she said, reaching out and patting him lightly on the back. "It's good to see you on your feet already."

He nodded his acknowledgement, then let a comfortable silence lapse between them for a moment. Lilya, he noticed, had left at some point. It was actually unnerving how quiet she was.

Caspar thought back to all the faces he saw on his way in. He never saw Bryda. He wondered if Raj was around here, and he just never showed up while Caspar was conscious, or if he was set up elsewhere.

"We'll be eating again later," Mel said. "So you'll get more food to fill that endless stomach of yours."

Caspar laughed. "Sounds good, thanks."

Mel hummed, looking satisfied with his response.

"So," she said. "How are you hanging in there?"

Exhaling through his nose, feeling the warmth in his chest dissipate as the weight of reality started to flood back, Caspar nodded and answered simply, "M'good."

He pushed himself to his feet and brought the bowl back to the counter. "The salad was great, by the way," he went on. "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you, again."

"I accept all of the thank-you's," Mel said with a faint laugh. "Don't worry about it. You're welcome."

Mel got up and followed him, setting a hand on the edge of the bowl.

"Don't worry about this," she said. "You don't have to clean up. I'll take care of it."

"S'fine," Caspar said, "I'd like to contribute where I can."

In all honesty, he could also use something to do, to keep busy, to keep from worrying uselessly.

"Well," Mel said, reaching under the counter. "If that's the case, then by all means."

She lifted a bucket of water up onto the counter where a damp towel hung slung over the side.

"Here's the wash bucket," Mel said with a smirk.

Caspar felt himself smile again, and he inclined his head. "Thank you kindly."

Without further ado, he pushed up his sleeves, tucked his gloves away in his pocket, and set about to cleaning the dish and cutlery. Mel leaned on the counter, just watching him work for a moment before she sparked up conversation again.

"You're from the Isles, right?" Mel asked.

Caspar glanced up from the bowl as he wiped down the edges. "Yeah. From a small fishing island called Herron. What about you?"

"I grew up in Great Sands," Mel said. "Dusty old town near Ghostfire Canyon. Beautiful red rocks and sunsets, but awfully dry year-round. It's right by the river Axis, though. So if you really miss the water you can take a hike outside the city walls and jump in if you need it."

He nodded. "Can picture it. The view sounds nice. I'd like to see it sometime."

"What's Herron like this time of year?" Mel asked.

Caspar set the bowl aside for drying later, and washed off the fork and cutting knife. "Ah, let's see... It's still summer, right?" Since leaving the Isles, he'd sort of lost his grasp on time.

"Still summer," Mel said with a grin. "It'll probably start getting cooler in a month or so, but we've still got a little longer to wait it out."

Caspar nodded his thanks. "Alright. Well, Herron's pretty mild, as far as temperature swings go. Rainy a lot of the year, though, especially this time of year. It's on a cold current, too, which only gets colder in winter." He shrugged. "It was pretty quiet out there. Didn't have a lot of neighbors growing up."

"Sounds like a calm, slow pace of life," Mel commented. "Did you like the quiet?"

With the dishes now cleaned, Caspar slung the wash cloth back over the edge of the bucket and found a dry one to wipe off residual moisture. "I did, yeah. Quiet's nice, and fewer people kept things simple. What's Great Sands like?"

"It was a little busier, I gather," she said. "Wasn't quite a bustling city, but there was a rhythm to life. We got a lot of travelers that passed through, so a lot of our businesses catered to visitors. My father was a musician, and he entertained at the tavern down the street from our home for years. I imagine he still does. He plays several instruments, but mainly the piano and the fiddle. I would go to his shows when I could, but oddly enough my parents didn't really like us going to them that much. I think it had more to do with the type of crowd that particular establishment attracted. More of the rough-around-the-edges kind of type. Though, admittedly, that describes a lot of people in Great Sands."

"Not to mention evening crowds, if he played at night," Caspar murmured. "Do you know any instruments?"

"I learned how to play the flute," Mel said. "Though I'm very out of practice. You?"

He set the now-dry cutlery in the bowl. "Uh, no, no instruments." Caspar slung the dry towel over his shoulder and lifted the bowl to clean off the counter with the wet rag. "I mean-- yeah, aside from just...singing, no."

"Singing counts," Mel said with a small smile. "Your voice is an instrument too."

He shrugged. "Anyhow. Out of practice there as well, so." He dried off the counter too, then leaned back against it, folding his arms, mentally scrambling to shift the focus. "Did you enjoy playing the flute?"

"A little," Mel said. "Unfortunately I found learning to play it more of a chore than a joy. All of my siblings and I were forced to learn an instrument, and I was never that interested as a child. Of course, in hindsight I wish I'd put more effort into learning. I think I'd enjoy it more now, but I have bigger priorities than trying to get my hands on a flute."

Caspar tilted his head. "All fair points. How many siblings do you have, by the way?"

"Eight total," Mel answered. "I'm the third, and my brother Raj the fifth."

Caspar raised his brows a little. "Big clan." He gestured to himself. "Only child."

"Looks like you've formed a clan of your own, though," Mel said. "You don't have to have biological siblings to have family."

He nodded, his smile faltering just a little.

The Ashlunds, he firmly told himself, she was referring to the Ashlunds.

"Very true," Caspar replied, mustering some warmth in his voice. "I've missed them like hell these past years. It's...beyond words, really, having them back."

The look on Mel's face softened with gentleness and understanding.

"You know," she said steadily. "You're welcome here. To stay, if you wanted. We're all hiding from the law out here, and we look out for each other. It wouldn't be any more burdensome for us than the lives we've already chosen."

Caspar drew in a breath through his nose, and was surprised at how shaky it was. He wanted to just say yes right then and there, that he'd love to stay, to belong.

"Thank you," he murmured, and instead went on to say, "I'll think about it."

"Take all the time you need," Mel said softly. "Just know the door is open."

Swallowing thickly, he just nodded.

"Well," Mel said, glancing back at the doorway. "I should probably go see where little Lilya went off to. I saw her sneak off while you were busy eating. Do you need anything else before I go?"

Caspar shook his head. "No, thank you. M'good, you go ahead. Good luck finding the kiddo."

Mel bowed her head, offering him another smile before she turned away.

"I'll let you know how it goes," she said with the smile still in her voice as she stepped out into the hall.

"Did I mention how thankful I am and how amazing you are?" Caspar quickly called after her before she disappeared completely.

Mel back-tracked and looked back at him, smiling in amusement.

"Lyall neglected to mention how heavy you were on the flattery," Mel teased.

Caspar shuffled in place, suddenly self-conscious, and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, um, I-- it's--"

Mel smiled warmly.

"It's okay. I like it. It's nice to be appreciated around here," she said playfully before finally disappearing down the hall.

Caspar nodded again, more to himself now than anything, and leaned back on the counter. He took a steadying breath. Then scrubbed both hands over his face.

The offer to stay just threw him for a moment, yes. It was truly tempting to simply agree on the spot, he wanted to. But he didn't want to commit to anything before he knew where James was headed once he recovered. Caspar had promised to live and fight on his behalf, and he was determined to stand by it. To stand by James, wherever life took him next.

And if they did end up parting ways with the mages, then Caspar could at least do so in good conscience, knowing that Lyall and his family were taken care of and taking care of others, in a community. That the Ashlund home burning down didn't completely ruin everything.

Caspar frowned a little.

Pushing off from the counter, he wandered into the hall, tentatively peeking in through doors until he found Lyall sitting in a shared bedroom of sorts.

Lyall sat cross-legged on the floor, face pensive as he read a book filled top to bottom with tightly formatted text. The only time, other than when he slept, that he ever sat completely still and quiet was engrossed in another world, be it related to his job or historical text or a compilation of fictional tales.

Cy lied on her back on the bed behind him, with an illustrated book about seemingly a raven held up over her face, drawn with the same intense focus as her father. Lilya was nowhere to be found. Or. So Caspar assumed. She could very well have been hiding in that same room.

Caspar padded in. Even standing directly over Lyall, casting a considerable shadow over the book, didn't break his concentration. He softly cleared his throat. At last, Lyall snapped his attention away from the book and upward. Tilting his head, he flashed him a cheshire grin, eyes glinting.

"Cas," he greeted, leaning back against the bed, "you look well on the mend! Lilya succinctly compared you to a bottomless pit upon her return. She also mentioned something about passing seeds before they grew, which I was frankly too scared to ask about, but other than that, your venture into the kitchen sounded like a rousing success."

Caspar nodded. "Yeah, it was," he answered faintly.

Lyall shut the book and tossed it aside. "Sounded like you and Mel got to know each other a bit, too." His grin turned mischievous, and he dropped his voice to a pointed whisper. "You know, I neglected to mention the heavy flattery because you my friend have not always been so forward. Care to break that down for me?"

Caspar felt the tips of his ears burn as he set a hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. "No, I don't care to, actually. Lyall, can we talk a sec?"

Tilting his head the other way, Lyall's gaze sharpened as he scrutinized him. Caspar simply waited until he found what he was looking for, or asked for details when he didn't.

"Alright," Lyall finally said, already up on his feet and out the door. "Cy, watch for your sister," he called over his shoulder.

"Okay," she answered noncommittally, eyes still glued to her book.

"I don't need watching!" Lilya protested from under a bed. One of them, somewhere, Caspar couldn't exactly pinpoint which.

At least he knew where they both were, and he and Lyall could talk out of earshot of both the kids.

"Pretty much everyone's out right now," Lyall said as he led the way down the hall, "except for Mel, Maisy, and the little ones. Day-to-day stuff and all that, you'll catch on the longer you stay. I think Hild also joined the others? Something about horses, I was honestly only half-listening. Does she have a horse now? She always liked birds, at least. I guess it makes sense, though, she was always more enthralled with the concept of 'animals' than I was."

Lyall turned them back into the kitchen. Caspar quietly closed the door behind himself, and looked at the ceiling as he tried finding the right way to even broach his next question.

Wandering deeper in, Lyall took an apple from the same bowl that Lilya picked through earlier. He did the same little twirl of his hand that Lilya did as he carefully selected a fruit.

"I wasn't sure what to think of your friend James there," Lyall went on, "seeing as he wasn't even conscious when I first saw him. Hardly a way to really form an opinion on a person, of course. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders, though. He's made it this far on the run, definitely strong-willed. Self-respecting as well, I like that. And you like him, so that always means something. He's got some stories to tell, too! That's always a great plus. Can't wait to poke at him again for some of the finer details--"

"Lyall," Caspar cut in, softly, "I-- I don't really know how else to..."

Lyall's eyes narrowed a little as he glanced him over again. "How to what?"

Setting his hands on his hips as he stepped closer, Caspar exhaled slowly. "Lyall, where is Bryda?"

It felt like the air was sucked right out of the room, all brevity completely gone. Jaw clenching, Lyall stared through him. Biting his lip, Caspar waited.

"Ah. Yes, a--" Lyall set the apple down and crossed his arms. His eyes still didn't meet Caspar's. "A good question, that."

Silently, Caspar drew closer until they were about an arm's length apart. Lyall lifted his gaze, brows pinched just a little as he blinked back the wet in his eyes. He mustered a grin, but it did nothing more than tug at his lips.

"She's gone," Lyall said, voice tight. He swallowed. "Happened a few years ago. I..."

Turning, Caspar leaned back against the counter next to him. Silence lapsed between them for a moment. Letting out a worn, weighty sigh, Lyall leaned his head against Caspar's arm.

"Couldn't save her," Lyall uttered, bitter. "I couldn't--" His voice broke, and he bowed his head.

Caspar draped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his side. "M'sorry."

Wrapping both arms around his middle, careful to not brush the healed graze, Lyall leaned more of his weight against him. He let out a shaky breath.

"It was awhile ago," he said, voice thick and warbling. "Years, dammit, but it still--"

He turned his head, hiding his face in Caspar's side. He breathed in slowly, shuddering, and held on tighter. Caspar nodded. As he absently rubbed a hand over Lyall's arm in comfort, he wiped at his own eyes.

Though it had been years for both of them, it still hurt like a fresh wound, and trying to talk about them felt like rubbing salt into it.

"I miss..." Lyall murmured, slow, at a loss for the right words. "Just...her. I miss her."

"I know," Caspar said softly. He found himself leaning into the side-hug too, that they were now supporting each other. "I know."

The fresh air and some sunshine was. Restoring, yes. Focusing her attention fully on the care of Penumbra, Elliot, and Eir was a very effective and welcome distraction. Penumbra was entirely settled by now, likely helped some by Elliot's unflappable demeanor. Hild still offered her soft reassurances and praises as she brushed her flank.

As much as his methods irked her to no end, Hild really was...relieved? Happy. Satisfied that Lyall had already decided he liked James. Honestly, she figured he would. James was a fascinating individual with a sincere heart. The 'sincere heart' part of it mattered to Lyall, of course, but if he deemed a person uninteresting, then they simply weren't worth his time and energy beyond pleasantries, sincere heart notwithstanding.

She set the brush aside and leaned a little against Penumbra's side. Penumbra turned her head, simply watching with curious eyes. Hild stroked her nose.

Out of the corner of Hild's eye, she caught someone poking their head out over Penumbra's back, looking at her. Hild straightened, snapping from that set of thoughts back to earlier that morning to search for the names Mel mentioned at breakfast.

"Hello," Hild said politely, "Masil, was it?"

The teenage girl raised her eyebrows and flashed a bashful but eager smile, raising herself on her tip-toes to show her full face.

"I like your horse! She's very pretty," Masil said, bouncing back down and walking around to Penumbra's head, where Hild stood. "Elrick's been teaching me how to work with Sparkles, but it's not the same as a real horse. I never really got to learn that much about them growing up on an island and all, but they're really beautiful creatures."

Hild blinked, caught slightly off-guard by how open everyone seemed to be here. She tucked away the bit about an island, and answered, "Yes, thank you. Her name is Penumbra. I'm sure working with Sparkles has its own unique set of pros."

Masil laughed with a small huff through her nose.

"Sparkles is a good pony," she said. "He puts up with a lot, especially with Cy and Lilya, though mostly with Lilya. I think he's just over it now. The poor pony must be tired."

Hild could imagine. Lilya, though sweet probably, seemed like a handful.

Hesitantly, Masil reached out to Penumbra's nose.

"Can I pet her?" she asked.

Hild inclined her head with a small smile. "She won't mind."

Gently, Masil started to stroke the front of Penumbra's face. Penumbra nudged forward, pressing her nose more into Masil's hand.

"So what does Penumbra mean?" she asked, smiling softly as she brushed the horse's mane with her fingers.

"It's the region between a perfect shadow-- the umbra-- and full illumination," Hild said. "It's a space of partial light." She lightly patted Penumbra's side and mused, "I suppose 'umbra' would have been more fitting, given just how dark her coat is, but it doesn't have the same..."

"Penumbra sounds better," Masil agreed. "Sounds smarter. More mysterious."

Hild quirked her lips in a small grin. "Yes. Exactly."

Masil smiled broadly, her eyes still fixed on Penumbra as she continued to give gentle pets.

"You and Lyall both seem really smart," Masil said. "I mean, I guess you have to be to be a doctor. Or, at least, a good one."

Straightening a little more, Hild hummed. "The distinctions between a good doctor and an inferior one are rather more nuanced than how much information they retain, but thank you."

"I don't think I could ever be a doctor," Masil said with a timid look away. "I don't really have the stomach for it. I think I'd freak out too much."

Hild allowed her own expression to soften a little. "People are usually far more capable than they realize. There's a...strength in being able to recognize your true limits, though you shouldn't discount yourself so quickly."

"I don't really know what I'm cut out for," Masil said more quietly. "I have earth magic, but I'm really bad at it, and I'm really just... okay at everything else. I guess I'm not a bad babysitter, but I don't think that's-- I mean, I want to be more helpful, you know?"

Hild nodded. Yes, she knew. Understood completely. It always felt like she was assigned the idle work. Just standing at ready, willing to do far more, regardless of how truly prepared she was for it.

"Like, Elrick's really good with his magic," Masil continued. "And he's good at fighting, and he uses it keep us safe, and it just-- it comes in handy all the time. And my brother's a great water mage, even if he's a bit of a meathead. And he's super strong, and can help carry things and get stuff we need. And Maisy basically keeps the whole garden alive by herself with her magic, making sure we have food to eat. And Mel's probably the best healing mage I've ever seen, and she's so cool and calm. And Lyall's got his whole doctor thing and he's busy being a dad and things, and... and then there's just me. All I do is watch kids and feed horses and scoop horse poop. I feel really boring in comparison."

Hild drew in a breath and glanced off to the side for a moment. "I do understand." She met Masil's eyes. "Trying to figure yourself out just makes you feel small. When I began studying medicine, I had to start as a nurse while all of my brothers seemed to simply jump straight into the deep end, with actually diagnosing patients and even performing surgery."

She pressed her lips into a thin line for a moment, deciding that those details were plenty. "You have to start small, though. And the small things gradually mount, and they matter."

Masil had her eyes fixed on Hild, like she was hanging on to every word.

"Did you ever think you'd end up... how you are now?" Masil asked softly.

Hild smiled slightly. "Oftentimes, no."

"But how long does the small stuff last,?" Masil asked earnestly. "I feel like it's going on forever."

Hild felt herself soften further. She lost count of how many times she asked her mother the same question, and was struck by how it felt to stand on the other side of the conversation.

'Patience,' her mother always answered simply, her smile perhaps long-suffering but very fond.

It drove Hild mad, and made her feel juvenile in her frustration with herself, receiving the same unhelpful answer every time. But there really wasn't much else to say on the matter.

"In the thick of it," Hild said gently, "it always feels like it will last an eternity. It won't, though. You just need..." Shrugging, resigned, she finished plainly, "Patience."

Masil let out a long, frustrated sigh as she looked to her feet. Hild felt herself internally sag with the same frustration.

"That's what everybody keeps saying," she muttered dismally. "I just wish it wasn't so hard."

Hild huffed a wry laugh and agreed, "I know. I hate that I even had to say that. It's truly maddening."

"Adults are always telling me 'Everything takes time to grow, Masil,' but it's annoying that they mean years and not days or minutes," Masil mumbled.

With a sympathetic, almost fond smile of her own, Hild folded her hands together and nodded. "It's an all-too familiar feeling."

Masil flicked her eyes up to Hild, seeming a little disappointed, but still appreciative.

"Do you still feel it?" she asked quietly. "Does it ever go away?"

Hild paused.

The goal post always moved. Even as she finally gained traction and made steady progress. Impatience with herself firmly persisted. It shifted and re-manifested as self-doubt, as things she did entirely wrong, or simply could've done better. Small ways that she felt she fell short managed to nag, which always pushed her to study more intensely, work harder, usually to the point of burn out.

She pursed her lips. "It doesn't fully leave you," she answered honestly. "It helps to look back on what you've accomplished and remind yourself that you have worked hard to reach where you are."

Masil looked to the ground with a pout, her hand resting on Penumbra's nose.

"Looking back..." she repeated under breath, like she was trying to do so in the moment. She looked like she was getting caught up in her own head. In a memory.

"May-may!" her brother's voice suddenly called out.

Masil's eyes went wide and her expression quickly shifted from mild annoyance to embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said, looking to Hild. "I don't know why I-- well, thanks anyway for--"

Jordan, her ridiculously tall, beefy brother came running up behind her and planted his giant hand on her head. He ruffled her hair and she pushed his hand away, trying to fix her hair. Hild bit back an amused smile.

"Did you finish poop scooping?" Jordan asked with a smirk.

Masil sighed.

"Yes," she said with a voice that had heard that joke a thousand times.

Jordan only grinned and turned his attention to Hild. He extended a hand to shake, stooping down just a little to meet her halfway.

"I don't think we got formally introduced," Jordan said cheerily. "I'm Jordan, Masil's big brother."

Arching a brow, Hild lightly shook his hand with a small, polite smile. "Hild Ashlund. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Are you getting more comfortable?" Jordan asked. "I know some folks get real antsy underground. It's good you came out to see some sun, though. It can get real dreary if you don't."

Hild inclined her head. "It's been...quaint. But comfortable, yes. Daylight does help significantly."

"Yeah, it really helps clear your head," Jordan said.

"Your head's always empty," Masil mumbled beside him.

"Someone's in a mood today, I see," Jordan said with a small smile, unfazed. "No worries."

He heavily patted Masil's back and pulled away.

"Maybe you'll feel better after picking some tomatoes," Jordan said. "Come on, May."

Masil sighed, shooting Hild a small, shy smile before she shuffled after her brother, and the two of them disappeared behind the shelter.

Hild let out a quiet sigh once they were gone. Alone with her thoughts once more, she turned back to Penumbra.

"Gods, I sounded like my mother," she muttered, resting her head against the mare's shoulder.

"Not an entirely bad thing," Lyall mused, his voice suddenly right beside her.

Startled, Hild swatted at his shoulder as she jumped away. Lyall shrunk back, but grinned wide, even as she leveled him with a glare.

"Just a moment's peace," she ground out, "just one!"

Nonplussed, Lyall slung an arm around her shoulders and practically dragged her out of the shelter. "It's alright, you can just say you missed me."

Hild grumbled incoherently under her breath as she was forced to fall into step beside him. Her half-hearted irritation quickly dispersed when she caught sight of Caspar standing by the entrance of the bunker. With a blue scarf she didn't recognize wrapped around his neck and his hands in his jacket pockets, he idly stared up at the trees. Waiting, possibly.

Lyall's arm slipped away, and he bumped shoulders with Caspar in greeting. Caspar shook himself from his own quiet thoughts and cast him and Hild a small smile.

"How's everyone looking?" he asked.

Hild folded her arms and nodded. "The horses are well. Brushed, fed, and acknowledged."

Caspar nodded in turn. "Good."

"Where did you get a horse?" Lyall asked. "Weren't you working as a tailor? Last I checked, you didn't need a horse for the job."

Caspar's eyes flicked between the two, unsure of how to even begin to answer. Hild opened her mouth, but nothing came out as the events of that night whirled around her mind, dark and frenzied and bloody.

Lyall's brows furrowed a little, and his lips pursed. "If you did end up needing a horse for the business, I trust there was a perfectly reasonable purpose for it. There won't be a tailoring guild of any sort out to hang you for it. I'm fairly sure, anyhow. Trade guilds can get strangely political about such petty matters, though, so I suppose I can't be too sure actually."

Rolling her eyes skyward, Hild pressed her lips in a hard line. "Don't be absurd, of course there's no such issue."

Lyall shrugged. "If the exact name and circumstances escape you, you don't have to rummage for the details. Just say you bought a horse at some--"

"Would you--" She shook her clenched hands at him. "Please. Shut up for just one minute so I can answer."

Leaning away, Lyall nodded with a small grin. "Yes, please do. I'm on the edge of my seat here. Where, why, and how, pray tell, did you stumble upon--"

"She was from a bounty hunter," Caspar finally cut in, slowly and with his voice low. "A few months back. The third time he caught up to us turned into...his very last. Left the horse without a rider."

Lyall stared at him intently, quickly piecing together what wasn't explicitly said. Then he gave Caspar a cursory glance, as though searching for any lingering evidence of the encounter, and did the same with Hild.

"Okay," he said simply.

Hild narrowed her eyes at him, frankly suspicious that he wasn't prying for more information.

Running a hand through his hair and letting it rest on the side of his neck, Lyall looked off to the side for a moment. Caspar shuffled in place a little. Hild tilted her head.

Something was on both of their minds, and she felt like she was being pulled into an already ongoing conversation, albeit not very smoothly.

"Your heads are more barren than usual," she commented. She nodded to Caspar. "You came out without shoes--" She turned her eyes to Lyall. "--and you actually let him."

Caspar immediately dropped his gaze down to his feet and mumbled, "That was a conscious decision."

Lyall huffed, straightening and tilting his head up defiantly as he echoed, "Yes, a conscious decision."

Hild frowned. "What happened."

Deflating, Lyall let his posture relax again-- sag, even-- and cleared his throat. "It's probably about time we caught up with each other, and I figured we should forge through the grim details of our past years of separation all at once."

Hild nodded slowly, already mentally sifting through the memories. "Efficient, yes."

"A good plan," Caspar agreed.

Lyall stepped closer to Hild. "We were just...broaching the subject of Bryda's absence a moment ago."

Hild tensed. She had noticed, and in the back of her mind spun with all the possible explanations as to why she never saw Lyall's wife, but the questions were honestly-- shamefully-- crowded out by the events of the previous night.

He swallowed, then drew in a steadying breath, his eyes fixed out on the forest. "We almost made it out of the Outlands," Lyall murmured. "Inching closer to the border between safehouses. Cypress was still so small, and we'd just had Lilya."

His brows knit together, and his shoulders formed a hard line. "We almost made it out," he furthered, "when bandits jumped us. They wreaked of alcohol, they were unsteady enough to misfire, to-- I--" Lyall scrubbed a hand over his mouth, and his eyes burned at the memory. "I panicked, and I gave myself away again. It escalated too quickly, and shots were fired. She was gone, in an instant."

Caspar kept his gaze fixed on Lyall, his jaw clenched. Hild quietly stepped closer and gently tilted Lyall's head to the side, instinctively scanning for any old injuries.

"Couldn't save her," Lyall bit out. "She was just...gone."

There was a lingering nick on his jaw. Hild brushed her fingers over it, mentally picking through all the possible causes.

"I--" Lyall raked both hands over his scalp. "I hate it, that I can't keep a grip. I keep-- keep losing control, it's a curse--"

Hild huffed through her nose and ground out, far harsher than intended, "Don't do that. It's a part of our mother's legacy."

He shot her a hard look. She steeled herself for a retort that was just as biting, about how she envied him for it for so long.

"I burned down our house," he growled, gaze bitter, "how is that a 'gift'?"

Tensely, Hild took a step back without knowing.

It wasn't Manning?

"It wasn't your fault," Caspar said softly, standing closer. "Hansen broke in, and it was your only defense."

Lyall bristled, but only for a second. He sobered instantly when he met Caspar's gentle gaze, and the hard lines of his shoulders relaxed again.

"It wasn't your fault either," he said quietly, tilting his head up to look Caspar straight in the eyes. "I was wrong to blame you for that. Hansen found out, completely separate from you."

Caspar pressed his eyes shut. As he let out the tension in his chest through his nose, he let their foreheads bump together, and his frame sagged. Leaning into his touch, Lyall absently rubbed his arm.

Hild folded her arms tightly around herself as she drew closer once more. "How did he find out, then?"

Lyall swallowed, and he blinked hard as he thought. "I really can't say. Manning neglected to mention during his monologue when he burst into my office. My best guess is someone poked around where they shouldn't have and-- like a concerned, law-abiding citizen-- blew the whistle."

Hild nodded, reaching back into her memories. She couldn't recall a wandering stranger in their home at any point. Viktor must not have seen anyone either, otherwise he would've mentioned something. "That's plausible."

They stood awash in silence now, all of them standing together in a small cluster.

Hild never spoke often with Bryda. Made a point to distance herself from her brother's life, even, which Hild would always regret deeply. But the few times they did meet, she could see why Lyall was so enraptured with the woman. Soft, bubbly, artistic. She was an optimist, and painted her world with the brightest of colors.

Hild turned over the details of the fire. Lyall had never once mentioned to her that he caused it directly, and Caspar had kept his secret for all these months of traveling with her. Harboring misplaced guilt for it, even. She always assumed Manning started the fire.

She wished Caspar said something, if only so she could try to ease his mind.

She hated to see Lyall loathe his gift. Hated that she ever resented him for it. It truly was special on its own, but doubly so because it was their mother's gift too.

She rested her head on Lyall's shoulder, and melted slightly when he pulled her into his side. Caspar lowered his head, pressing sideways on Lyall's. Huddled close, loosely holding onto each other in their own ways, they all found a peace they hadn't known for years.

"Damn," Lyall muttered, "when's the last time either of you had a bath?"

James pressed the cold metal barrel into Alexander's forehead, his threats echoing in his head. I'll have a little fun with them, he said with a sick, twisted smile in his voice. The thought of their deaths and torture being a result of his inaction practically strangled him, like there were invisible strings binding his finger to the trigger.

Death and desperation held each others hands as blood and brain matter splattered over his face. An ugly pool in the middle of the forest, like a dark shadow in the night, thick with the iron stench of blood.

The gun felt immaterial in his hands, and he felt the world around him shift, like he was being pulled under a wave.

The gun was trained on Ivar.

"So what is she to you? A friend? Something closer?" Ivar's voice taunted.

He could feel the strings pulling tighter again. Tugging on his finger, on the trigger. Waiting in anticipation for who would shoot first.

Desperately hoping Hild was alright. Desperately hoping Caspar had gotten away from Butch.

Somehow.

But something about Ivar's frame shifted. His shadow turned to something familiar.

"I think we've both sat with dissapointment long enough," came Carter's cutting voice.

And when the bullet pierced James's gut, he couldn't pull the trigger.

He was falling, and he hit the ground beneath him with a thud. He could feel blood pooling in the back of his throat. He was choking on it.

A shadowy figure stepped over him, leaning in close. The rain had James soaked to the bone, but somehow Carter was dry, and his silver armor glimmered in the nonexistent moonlight.

As Carter knelt down beside him, his face was painted with a cold indifference, as if James's death couldn't have mattered to him any more than a stranger.

He stared up into his hollow eyes, and he couldn't help but wish he could at least see something. Rage. Regret. Sadness. Something. Anything at all.

"They won't miss you," Carter said, his voice calm. Soothing like a poison seeping in. "The fight is over, James. You'll be forgotten, just like you wanted. Your family, your friends... they've moved on. You can let go now. Suffer no more."

Carter reached out, brushing James's wet hair off his forehead, but his touch felt lifeless and cold.

"Goodbye, old friend," Carter's voice echoed hauntingly as he moved to close James's eyes.

For just a moment, James was outside of himself, looking down at his own dead body.

Then his eyes shot open, and he stared at a dark ceiling, dimly lit by a distant, flickering light. The panic building at the back of his mind felt subdued, like a distant storm.

He rested a shaky, aching hand over his stomach, letting his fingers trace the edges of the bandage where the bullet wound once was.

The pain killers were starting to wear off just a little. He could feel a faint, permeating sting in his gut, like needles were stuck inside of him, striking every nerve. Though he felt a there might've been greater sense of clarity in his head, it seemed to be clouded by the pain and the lingering nightmare instead.

James pinched his eyes shut for a moment and then turned his head, trying to look around the room.

It was empty at the moment. Aside from him.

He wondered how many hours had passed that he'd been in a drug-induced sleep, or if it had only been minutes.

There was no one around to give an answer, and no sun or watch to tell the passage of time by, so James found himself staring at the ceiling, letting his mind run in circles.

Guilt still lingered as a tightly wound knot in his chest at the thought of leaving Caspar behind with Butch. Even the few seconds that James saw the giant of a man, he felt everything in his frame tell him to run. He'd stopped thinking. He'd panicked. He'd grabbed Hild out of desperation, because all he'd been able to imagine in that moment was Butch's axe going through her.

He saved one friend from pain and failed to save the other. His only comfort was that Caspar had survived. He'd made it out, and somehow bested Butch and killed him. The thought of Butch really being dead didn't seem real. He always felt untouchable, built like three men in one.

James didn't know if seeing Butch's body as confirmation would make it better or worse. But he didn't know if it even mattered.

Butch still lived in his mind. In every memory. In every recurring dream he decided to show up in. It didn't matter if Butch was dead. In James's mind, he was afraid he'd never die.

And then there was Ivar. Shot twice - if James's bullet even hit - and confirmed to be dead as well.

He couldn't help but overthink about the last few words they exchanged.

What did Ivar know about Carter? What did he think happened? What was the story being told to everyone in his past?

Everyone knew that James and Carter had been friends for years, but no one knew about the details of their fallout. If Carter made that public, then James wouldn't simply be wanted for "treason." There would be too many questions.

There was also a part of him that felt a strange sense of guilt over warning Ivar about his family, only to end his life a minute later.

It made him feel dirty, even though Ivar had been just as willing to deliver a killing blow. But he didn't regret defending Caspar and Hild. It was either Ivar or them. Someone wasn't going to make it out alive.

James wouldn't have made it out either if they hadn't been found when they did.

Even a minute later and he could've been gone.

The reality settled in his gut as a heavy realization. Painfully, he imagined Hild being there for his last moments. Caspar, finding him too late.

It was cruel of him to put them through that twice, now. Not that he had a choice in getting shot, but...

He'd done it for Hild. He was trying to protect her.

The door drifted open a little, and Caspar's tall frame leaned into the room.

James blinked at the blurry outline and reached up around his head, pawing around for the glasses Hild left behind. He fumbled with them for a moment, finding his hands more clumsy than normal, and finally stuck them on his face.

Caspar took the chair still standing by James's bed. "Hey," he greeted softly, "have you been up long?"

James turned his head, noting that Caspar was in new, clean clothes, with a blue scarf around his neck. It looked like he'd washed up, too. Though James had somewhat gotten used to their collective musty smell, it was noticeably gone.

James could only imagine how greasy and grimy he was in comparison. He was sure that Mel and Lyall had at least cleaned his abdomen for the surgery, but he longed for a real bath and to be really clean again.

It took him a moment to register Caspar's question.

"Hm?" he hummed. "Oh. I'm not sure, really. I don't think it's been too long, though."

"S'good," Caspar said faintly. "Rest is good."

"You look better," James said, eager to move the conversation away from his current state. "Do you feel better?"

Huffing a laugh through his nose, Caspar nodded. "Yeah, I feel better, thanks."

"Smell better too," James added.

Lifting his arm a little, Caspar gave himself a loud sniff. "I guess."

James felt a laugh build in the back of his throat, but the moment it engaged the muscles in his stomach, it felt wrong. Pushing it back down to ease the pain, he huffed lightly through his nose instead.

"That was the loudest sniff I've heard in my life," James said with a grin. "You really breathed that in."

Ducking his head, Caspar laughed. "My sense of smell is kind of shot," he said simply.

"Too bad they don't have glasses for noses," James said.

Caspar shrugged. "Never thought to look into it."

"For all the trouble you gave me about my eyesight I want to tease you about your nose," James said. "But I can't think of anything right now. I can smell just fine, though. Great, even."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Caspar said with a nod. "And that's good. We'll compensate for each other, then. You'll be my nose, and I'll be your ears."

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed my hearing," James mumbled quietly.

Shrugging again, Caspar glanced off. "I, um. Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

James sighed.

"It's fine," he muttered, resigned. "I can't hide everything forever."

Leaning back in the chair, Caspar lightly drummed his hands on his thighs. "Ah. Good. Well, in that case." He glanced at the door as though to make sure no one was lingering by it. "Do you...want to talk about you and Hild, then?"

James stared blankly at Caspar.

He'd been unprepared twice now for this question. He wasn't any more prepared now. He was beginning to think he might never be.

"Me and..." James swallowed. "Hild."

His voice nearly cracked. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Right. Um. Yes. What... what..."

"I mean, you don't have to," Caspar backtracked quickly, "I just. I was offering, was all." He awkwardly tapped the side of his head. "Listening ear, and all."

Ah. Right. Caspar wasn't Lyall. He wasn't trying to vet him or interrogate him.

Nervously, James turned his eyes up to the ceiling as he nodded slightly, though more to himself than Caspar.

"I... I wasn't..." James started, and found himself struggling to piece his thoughts together. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took in a deep breath.

"I'd never planned to-- to develop feelings for her," he said weakly. "It-- you have to understand, I-- it's never made sense for me to get too attached to anyone, nevermind in that way. I was just going to let-- I mean I was trying to just let it pass. Infatuation never lasts very long. It's fleeting. Maybe days at most and then its gone. But it--it hasn't--"

James's words shriveled up as he snapped his mouth shut and let out a long, drawn-out breath through his nose.

He looked to Caspar, feeling anxiety twisting in his chest.

"I'd be stupid to do anything about it, right?" he asked quietly. "I don't even know if she-- and I don't know what I'm doing. And she's--"

James lifted his hands, gesturing pointedly at the air over his stomach.

"She deserves so much better than me anyway," James said with what could've only been a sad smile, but he didn't know what his face looked like anymore. "Someone not-- not so broken. Someone mentally stable for gods' sakes."

James found himself regretting his last few words, wishing he could rip them back out of the air.

He wished he had his filter back. But things kept slipping out.

Sitting almost perfectly still, Caspar let silence lapse between them, to allow the words to really sink in for both of them. James wished he didn't. He didn't want all of it to sink in.

When Caspar finally spoke up, his voice was soft yet firm as he guided their next thoughts. "Everyone's broken, James. But..." He shifted, sitting slightly straighter. "I think we kind of have to be? In order to find out if we fit right with someone else."

James felt a heavy desperation starting to weigh down on him.

"Caspar," James said, keeping his voice steady. "If I were to invite her in to my life like that... she wouldn't like what she found."

Caspar smiled softly. "You can decide whether or not you want to open that up with her. But I don't think you'll fully know what she'll think until you try."

James could feel a knot growing in his throat.

"I don't want her to be burdened with my problems," he said lowly. "Inward and outward alike."

Caspar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and tilting his head sideways. "You'll regret letting your chance to know what she wants slip away, though."

"And if she doesn't want it," James cut in. "If she doesn't like me at all. What then? I've ruined a friendship."

Caspar exhaled through his nose, looking almost amused. "I think it's a bit of a stretch to say she doesn't like you at all."

"Fine," James said. "Doesn't like me romantically, then."

"Okay, but what if it doesn't ruin your friendship?" Caspar went on. "Either way then, you'll at least know where you stand with her."

"And if it does?" James countered.

Caspar glanced down for a moment, his gentle smile fading just a little. "I seriously doubt it will. But, in the very unlikely event that it does..." He met James's eyes again and finished quietly, saddened by just the concept itself, "It probably would be for the better."

James frowned, looking away.

He was right. It would be for the better. And... it would open an easy door to say goodbye and part ways again, which he was used to. It would just be another painful goodbye to add to every other.

"If..." he started slowly. "Hypothetically. Even if she was interested, I don't know where we would go from there. For five years I've been drifting from place to place mostly on my own. I don't even know what life's going to look like for myself once I recover from this gunshot wound, nevermind... I don't know, a month from now."

Reaching over and quickly patting James on the shoulder, Caspar straightened again. "Those are details you'd need to go over with her."

James wanted to groan. He hated that Caspar was right.

"If it's any consolation, though," Caspar said, "Hild isn't very familiar with the dating scene, either."

James didn't know how that made him feel. So what, they were both clueless? How was that better?

James looked off to the side, shrinking under Caspar's gaze.

"What do you mean, 'either?'" he mumbled.

The corner of Caspar's mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. "Unless I'm mistaken about your experiences...?"

James shouldn't have asked.

He brought his shoulders up as a poor way of trying to shield his face.

"Nevermind," he muttered.

Caspar just huffed a laugh. "Anything else on your mind, bud?"

James pinched his eyes shut and pressed his lips into a line.

"What time is it?" he asked quietly.

"Um, the evening." Caspar shrugged. "Hild has my watch, so I can't say exactly."

"I slept all day, didn't I," James said with a sigh.

Caspar leaned back in the chair again. "Well, yeah. You probably needed it, though."

James didn't feel like arguing with that. He'd almost died. Sleeping all day should've been the least of his concerns.

"This time I -- I really didn't try to run into the fight, you know," he said lowly, looking away. "I tried talking first."

He was met with a brief silence. Caspar loudly scratched at the back of his neck, and the chair creaked as his weight shifted.

"I believe you," Caspar answered softly. "Don't worry about that."

"I'm just sorry it... that this happened again," James said.

And he knew Caspar knew what he meant. Within a span of three months, he'd almost died twice. He knew that it was hard on Caspar too.

Caspar exhaled slowly. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned his eyes down to the floor. "Please don't apologize for it," he said, his voice low but even.

"I know that I've put you through a lot," James said. "Most of the time because of my own impulsivity, and you've had to help piece me back together again. You and Hild both. It--"

"James, no," Caspar cut in, sounding tired. "Please-- it's really okay--"

"No it's not!" James interjected, feeling his throat grow tight again. "Do you have any idea how-- how-- I thought I was going to die Caspar. I thought I was finally going to die, after all the other times I should have, or could have. I didn't expect to wake up this time, Caspar."

"No, I meant--" Caspar looked up to the ceiling for a moment. "Obviously that part isn't okay. I'm just saying you made it, and that's what matters. It's fine," he insisted firmly, "you're fine."

James felt his throat growing even tighter as his eyebrows pinched upward, and looked at Caspar, helplessly.

"I'm not fine," he said, his voice wavering. "I can't just forget it like it never happened, Caspar."

"I'm not--" With his brows drawn, Caspar huffed through his nose. "I'm not asking you to...forget about it, I just--" He waved his hands helplessly. "I don't know, James, what do you want from me?"

"I don't know!" James blurted, furrowing his brows together. "Just-- just stop telling me 'it's okay' when it's clearly not! I don't need you to lie to me, Cas. I'm not a child."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Caspar shot back. "I'm not an idiot! I just-- I can't think about that right now, okay? I don't--" He bit down the rest of his thought, clenching his hands and then releasing the tension.

"Well I'm glad you have the privilege to not think about it," James bit out. "But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

He could see the muscles of Caspar's jaw visibly tighten as anger sparked in his eyes.

"Don't do that to me," Caspar said through grit teeth. "Where I'm sitting is hardly a step up."

James felt heat starting to burst in his chest, swirling inside of him like a storm. He knew it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. His whole life hadn't been fair.

"Would you rather sit here, then?" James retorted looking to Caspar with a challenging glare as he felt his hands clench into fists at his sides. "It's not like I didn't try to do the same thing I asked you to do. To stay alive. To fight. But if you really wished we'd traded places that badly--"

James propped his arms up at his sides and started to push himself up.

"Then take a se--" he started to grit through his teeth.

Caspar was on him in an instant, pushing him back down by his shoulders.

"The hell-- What are you doing?" Caspar ground out.

Hot tears flooded to James's eyes, and he glared up at Caspar through fogging glasses.

"I should've left months ago," James said, his voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I shouldn't have--I should never had dragged you into this. I should've left the ranch before--

"James, stop it." Caspar's voice was hard, and his hands on James's shoulders began trembling. "Just-- stop, dammit, and let people help you!"

James pushed back again, but he wasn't strong enough to fight back against Caspar's weight, and a shooting pain from his gut quickly sent him back to the bed from the few centimeters he's managed to gain moving upright. With his face contorted in pain and tears running down his face he weakly pushed at Caspar's arms, trying to get him off of him.

His grip on him loosened, then Caspar recoiled, like he'd been burned. He took a step back for good measure.

"I don't want people to keep helping me," James hissed through tears of frustration, pain, anger, sadness. It all was flooding to the surface. "Why do people keep--keep throwing themselves in the way of danger-- I'm not important. I'm not. I'm not. I'm better off alone!"

"What are you not getting?" Caspar gestured wildly at the room. "People care about you, James! You matter to us, you matter to me, whether you like it or not."

Caspar stepped closer again, his face twisted with another kind of pain. His voice, now booming, grew thick as he went on, "I'm trying to help because I care about you, and I can't just sit here and do nothing but think all day about how you could've died again because, believe me, I know. I know I could've lost you! And I just can't to talk about it right now because I can't stand the thought of it! What don't you understand? I can't lose you, Jack!"

Caspar took an unsteady step back, almost stumbling. He swallowed. His eyes were wide with shock, as though he'd been struck.

Tears were flooding down James's cheeks as he stared up at Caspar, each booming word pounding in his head.

He stared up at Caspar for far too long before he finally spoke.

"Who's... Jack?" he asked in a whisper.

Chest heaving as he fought to steady himself, Caspar stammered, almost inaudible, "I don't-- I don't know why I said that. I didn't--" He swallowed thickly again.

James wordlessly reached out and found Caspar's hand, holding it.

Not for himself. For Caspar.

Caspar didn't move, didn't reciprocate. The anger, the stress, the fear, it all built up in his eyes, and the tears finally fell when he blinked. He looked at James, but their eyes didn't quite meet.

"I'm--"

"I'm sorry," James said lowly before Caspar could finish.

His fingers twitched, and Caspar carefully closed his hand around James's. He opened his mouth to say something, but his voice broke before he could even start. James didn't know what to say. He'd already said more than he meant to, and none of it had been very good.

Instead, he just waited.

"Jack was--" Caspar's voice was hoarse. "It was a nickname."

A nickname.

It took James a moment to piece together the things that he knew, but then it hit him.

"For Eindride?" he asked softly.

"He was..." With his eyes still unseeing, Caspar huffed a hollow laugh. "I haven't actually. Said it for two years, I think."

Blinking again, Caspar's gaze was attentive and focused on James again. He mustered a wobbly smile, his eyes utterly heartbroken, as he rasped, "He was my kid."

So that's what Ivar meant.

An exchange of lives. Of sons.

James gently gave Caspar's hand a squeeze as he blinked away his own lingering tears, feeling them already starting to dry and crust on his cheeks.

But the realization started to seep in slowly, that Caspar hadn't mentioned Jack intentionally. He'd called James, Jack. He'd called James the name of his son, now passed.

Was... was that how Caspar saw him? Like a son?

Somehow, that started to make a lot more sense of things.

James could feel his eyes starting to water again, but he pushed it back this time - at least, he tried to.

"I didn't mean to--" Caspar's voice broke again, and he ducked his head as he tried breathing in deep.

"Don't apologize," James said quietly, speaking his own words back to him.

Caspar pressed his other hand over his eyes. His shoulders stooped, then began shaking. His next breath out came as a sob, and he slowly crumbled to his knees by the bed, his head still bowed low. His hand in James's trembled as his whole body was wracked by grief.

James wished he could do more than offer his hand, but he knew if he tried to get up again, it would do more harm than good.

Caspar needed to cry, and he wanted to let him.

So he held Caspar's hand firmly, and reached over with his other hand, just managing to set it on Caspar's head. That was the closest James could get to a hug, though Caspar deserved much more.

The best James could offer was sitting with him in it.

He wasn't sure how much time passed as Caspar wept, but when his tears finally started to subside, and he looked up, James tugged lightly on his hand.

"Come here," he said softly, lifting his other arm to motion him in for something of a hug.

Caspar hesitated, but didn't argue this time. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he bent down and carefully slid an arm around James's back. James reached his arms behind Caspar, hugging firmly, but not tight. Caspar let out a long, shaky sigh. Even as he held himself up to keep from pressing down with his full weight, he melted into the embrace.

"M'sorry," he murmured.

"I'm sorry too," James said into Caspar's shoulder.

Nodding, Caspar slowly withdrew, careful to not jostle him. His eyes were worn, and his shoulders were weighed down by exhaustion. "I, um." He ran his hands over his hair as he sighed. "Gods, I'm tired."

"You should rest," James agreed quietly. "We both should. Go get some sleep."

Nodding again, Caspar pushed himself to standing and found his way back to his bed on lead feet. He dropped down onto his back, sprawled with an arm and leg hanging over the side. He sighed once more, visibly deflating.

"Thank you," Caspar said softly.

James didn't know what Caspar was thanking him for. If anything, James was the one responsible for pushing Capsar to a breaking point, causing him to cry. All because he got scared.

James slid his glasses off his face and gently placed them on the bed beside his head.

"Night, Cas," he said softly in return.

"Night, James," Caspar murmured, voice fading as he fell fast asleep.

James stared off in the direction of Caspar's voice, his vision blurred once more. Not just because of the lack of glasses.

Turning his face away, he stared off into the dim room, resting his hands gingerly on his stomach.

His mind felt heavy, and yet sleep didn't seem to want to come to him. Instead, his own words repeated themselves in his mind, bitterly honest as he misdirected them at Caspar, of all people.

Guilt panged him again, but for a different reason.

Not just for having left Caspar behind, but for everything. For lying to him. For egging him on. For making him yell, and cry. For making him care when he kept hurting him, even when he didn't want to.

He wasn't a good friend, and he wasn't a good son. Not to his own family, and certainly not to Caspar, however much Caspar saw him as one.

Back in that winter thicket in the wilds, Caspar buried Manning first by the cabin. He didn't care where Manning was, as long as he was in the ground. And it didn't matter that it was close to home because the cabin really couldn't be home anymore. Someone would come searching for the hunter once his inexplicable absence wore on, and Caspar was alone again.

He left his axe in the man's chest, too. He couldn't bear to keep it, now that it was tainted.

Jack always wanted to see the ocean. The kid first lived within the walls of Sticks in the Outlands with his original father. It was built by a river, but the effect was hardly the same. Caspar tried drawing the ocean or even describing it with words, but neither could fully capture the sheer size and beauty of it in its every form.

Caspar carried his kid's body with him to a lake in Desert Sands-- Lake Lily, perhaps. Though it wasn't the same, not in the least, he buried Jack facing the water.

The days and nights after that lost shape, like water spilling over a page, lifting the words from the paper and pushing the ink around like feathering black clouds. Shapeless, meaningless.

Miraculously, none of the lasting impressions of Manning's attack got infected as Caspar aimlessly traveled east. Even as he roughly patched himself up as best he could, he wished something would set in.

The job at Gregor's ranch was only to scrape together enough money to head to the eastern sea and buy a small boat. Caspar wasn't thinking clearly at the time when they spoke, and he still wondered now what the hell even Gregor was thinking, hiring a man on his last leg with absolutely no experience with anything pertaining to a ranch.

Ah, right. Charity case, as James had put it.

Sitting up in bed again with his head tilted back against the wall, Caspar stared at the ceiling of the infirmary room.

He and James had already bid each other good morning. Mel came in at some point and checked on James, nudging the healing process along and lowering the drug dosage. The three of them exchanged light pleasantries as she worked.

Caspar politely declined her invitation to breakfast. His appetite was gone, and he didn't have the energy to engage with other people. It wouldn't be fair to everyone else, to bring a storm cloud with him. Mel just gently smiled in understanding as she disappeared down the hallway again.

He and James sat in silence. Neither seemed to feel the need to fill it. Caspar wasn't sure what he could even say after last night. He could hardly sort through his own thoughts, he couldn't possibly begin to string together a coherent thought out loud.

Was there a way to move on from that? He'd basically just called James his kid. Who does that?

But they couldn't just ignore it either. There were so many things that he'd been forced to ignore, felt he couldn't address because they were brought up when James was completely out of it. But Caspar had promised, and pretended like none of it happened.

James probably didn't even remember that promise.

Caspar frowned a little.

James probably didn't even remember that promise. It was. Just an excuse Caspar had been using for himself. To at first keep goodbye easier, then just to keep everything in general easier for himself, to keep from having to address the storm he so thinly veiled behind his anxiety.

Caspar breathed in deep, and let it back out in a long, tired sigh. He scrubbed his face with both hands.

Helping James escape Alexander that first time was just. Being a decent human being. It was the only right thing to do. But something shifted in Caspar's mind when the lumshade hit James full force.

It was like a switch was flipped. Caspar couldn't not help, couldn't help but want to fix everything, to protect, to hang on.

James wasn't Eindride, not in the least. Caspar could keep the two separate just fine-- Well, he thought he could. It still sometimes felt like having his kid back with him, though.

Losing James would be losing a dear friend, and that thought alone was devastating. But each time James brushed with death, Caspar kept getting dragged back to the wilds. Manning kept misfiring. The world rocked under Caspar's feet and fell apart completely, every damn time.

Each time, he wasn't just losing James, but also was losing Eindride all over again.

Caspar tilted his head sideways.

Though on the mend, James was stuck staring skyward with nothing to do again. Because of Ivar, who was Caspar's mess.

It wasn't fair to him. None of this was.

James's chance at a real life was ripped away from him before it hardly began. He didn't deserve a life on the run. He didn't deserve continuously suffering through heartbreak and pain in an endless cycle of constantly uprooting himself just to survive.

And James sure as hell didn't deserve a person like Caspar, who was just barely functional half the time and just there, his mind and his life in utter shambles, for the rest.

James deserved far better.

That bullet was meant for Caspar.

He should've just taken the out-- any of the few, actually-- that James gave him, if only to spare him the burden of having Caspar around.

Maybe Caspar should've left last night. Head out, get a boat-- build it himself, if he had to-- and finally surrender to the sea. No one would be worse off for it. He was never a good enough friend, a son, a father. Everything he tried to be, he just couldn't. Couldn't fill the spaces properly, so all he ever could do was simply take up space. Empty, useless.

It would have been wrong to leave James in a moment of turbulence, Caspar knew, and guilt turned his stomach at the thought alone. But James would still have Hild around at least, and probably Lyall, Mel, and the other mages here too. He truly wouldn't be worse off for it.

Caspar's eyes started to drift shut. He felt himself falling back into the winter thicket again when the door creaked open.

With books piled high in her arms, Cypress peeked into the room. She hesitated by the door. Caspar offered her a soft smile and slight nod in greeting. Shyly ducking her head, she tiptoed in and set the books on the edge of James's bed and took the chair next to him.

"It's Cy, right?" James asked.

She nodded. "Papa said I should call you 'Mr. Hawke'."

"That's fine," James said. "What are you all your books about?"

"Lots of things," Cy answered, voice soft. She held up the faded cover for him to see and tapped the polar bear in the illustration. "A woman has to go through a snowstorm, and the bear helps her. I'm not at that part yet, though."

James hummed.

"I've heard this story," he said. "I won't spoil it for you."

"It's okay," she said, "I've already read the whole thing. I'm re-reading now."

"Ah, I see," James replied, glancing down at the other books. "What about the others? Would you mind sharing one?"

Cy nudged the pile of books closer with a careful smile-- Caspar noted the small gap in her teeth.

"You can read all of them, if you want," Cy said happily.

James picked up a book before she even finished her sentence, appearing over-eager as he looked it over and flipped open to the first page.

"Will do," he said.

Her smile brightened when he accepted her offer. Cy then settled back, drawing up her legs as she opened the book about the bear. She propped the book up on her knees. Caspar tilted his head as he studied the cover.

'The Bear of Winter'. The first two words tripped him a bit, but it only took a moment.

He'd heard the story, too. It wasn't as popular in Herron, though, so he was fuzzy on the details. The main premise was at least familiar.

On light feet, almost inaudible, Lilya dashed in with a canvas bag clutched tightly in her arms. Caspar only had a second to move his legs out of the way before she launched herself up onto the bed with him.

She giggled as she bounced on the covers. Caspar felt himself smile too as he noted that she definitely had her father's enthusiasm.

"Good morning," Caspar said softly. "What do you--"

Lilya went right ahead and dumped the contents of her bag between them. Small spools of string and wooden beads spilled out, and she set the bag neatly aside.

"You're probably super bored just sitting in here," she said, "so I thought we could make bracelets!"

Caspar slowly drew his heavy legs underneath himself, picking some stray beads out from under his feet, to make room for her project. "I've never made bracelets before. Think you could teach me?"

Lilya's face lit up, and she nodded emphatically. "Of course! It can be tricky at first, but you'll probably get the hang of it real fast."

Caspar huffed a laugh through nose. "I thank you for the vote of confidence, but you may need to start slow for me."

Lilya picked through the spools for the right colored strings, explaining how to choose color combinations using the color wheel. She handed him blue and green, and picked for herself red and yellow.

While she very carefully walked him through various weaving techniques, Lyall and Hild entered shortly after, engaged in a rapid-fire debate, frequently trading jabs and insults in between each extensively presented counterpoint. Hild had her sewing pack in hand, and Lyall followed closely behind her with the materials they bought back in Ruddlan stacked on his arms.

He dropped the materials on the table, and Hild immediately criticized his rough handling of the fabrics. She shooed him away and spread one of the fabrics herself. Lyall was happy to step back and tease her for being so uptight.

Cy had pushed her chair closer at some point and leaned on the edge of the bed, arms folded, as she peeked at the book in James's hands. She flicked her eyes to his face, seeming to notice how deeply lost he was in reading, then scooted even closer to get a better view of the pages. She twisted sideways and rested her head back near his shoulder.

James seemed to be pulled out of the book for a moment, slightly turning his head to look at her from the corner of his eye.

"You finished The Bear of Winter already?" James asked.

Nodding with her eyes still fixed on the book he was holding, Cy hummed an affirmative. "Have you read this one before?" she asked quietly.

"I haven't," James said. "It's nice though. This is less biased than other texts I've read on the subject."

Cy turned her head slightly to smile at him. "That's exactly what Papa says."

"He sounds well-read," James said, turning his head in kind to offer a little grin.

She nodded, turning her eyes back to the book. "I want to read our whole library too. There's books I can't read yet, but I want to."

"I'm sure you'll get there someday soon if you're already reading books like this one," James said, shaking the book a little in his hands.

"Oh, she certainly can read them," Lyall butted in, grinning with a small spark of pride in his eyes. "It's really a matter of 'should she read them' at this point. There's a distinction, young lady."

Cy frowned a little and whispered, "He keeps those books on the top shelf. Where I can't reach."

"Ah," James said. "For good reason, I gather. I'd trust your father on this one."

She full-on pouted at this, but didn't argue the matter.

"Did you want to keep reading?" James offered, angling the book more towards her as he held it over his head.

"You can turn the page," Cy said simply. She crawled up onto the bed and lied more comfortably alongside him.

"Alright," James said, turning the page as asked.

Caspar turned his eyes back down to his and Lilya's project. She talked a mile a minute as she carefully strung tiny beads into the tight weave of her bracelet. He found himself fumbling quite a bit with the beads. The leather gloves probably weren't helping. He hesitated, but eventually took them off. Lilya either didn't notice or didn't mind the scars, because she made no comment as she simply reached over to help him adjust the string.

Hild shushed Lyall at one point as she turned her attention to measuring out parts of the fabric with her hands. Lyall huffed, appearing put-off by the interruption, but leaned on the table to silently watch with a fond smile.

"Did you have plans for after Ruddlan?" he eventually asked, his voice dropped to a murmur.

Crossing her arms, Hild glanced at him for only a quick moment before turning her eyes back to mentally mapping out the fabric. "No, nothing concrete or incredibly in depth."

Lyall leaned farther over the table, into her line of sight. "Very unlike you," he said, his tone gently teasing. "You used to have your whole life planned out by the minute."

With her back turned to him, Caspar couldn't see her face. But he could easily imagine the flat look she likely shot her brother.

"Current circumstances only demand short-term planning," she said, then added in a mutter, "I'm adaptable."

"Of course," Lyall quickly conceded, "of course. Adaptability is great, valuable. You need that anywhere, really. But you could have something a little more concrete. Some stability, one could say."

Hild drummed her fingers on her arm, likely mulling over the offer. She tilted her head. Lyall mirrored her and spread his arms in a sweeping gesture as he added, "Just letting you know the door's open, alright? Sleep on it a bit."

She just nodded. Patting her shoulder, Lyall pushed off from the table.

He sat behind Lilya and began lightly combing out any tangles from her hair with his fingers as she worked. Caspar nodded his acknowledgement when their eyes met over the top of her head, and he turned back to the slowly-forming bracelet in his hands.

"You feel rested?" Lyall asked.

Caspar nodded. "Yeah. M'good."

Lyall nodded likewise. "That's good. At first I was wondering what would be keeping you from breakfast, I figured you'd emerge to at least eat something because, by gods, did you inhale all your food yesterday. It was like watching a black hole tear through, sucking in everything in its path. Then of course it hit me, 'Ah, yes, he was always practically dead on his feet most of the time, wasn't he?' so the only next logical conclusion was that you were sleeping in, which was wise. Take what you can when you can get it."

Nodding his head, Caspar politely smiled, a little helplessly, as Lyall's words took a solid moment to register. He huffed a laugh at the very flattering picture Lyall painted of him. All of these things were true, yes, he could hardly argue.

With careful, expert hands, Lyall brushed Lilya's hair back from her face and sectioned it into three parts. It looked similar to how James did Hild's hair, only it seemed to go faster since he appeared to begin a single braid instead of two.

Before Caspar could try to say something to steer conversation away from him, Lyall spoke again.

"You know, I distinctly recall finding you in the oddest places and positions in and around the house, fast asleep, in the middle of the day sometimes, and wandering outside at ungodly hours doing gods knew what. I never could make sense of your sleep schedule, there was no rhyme or reason to it," he went on, never once slowing. "For instance: what on earth possessed you to climb up and nap for hours atop my book shelf?"

Caspar huffed through his nose. "You're one to talk," he countered halfheartedly. "You were awake in the first place to see me wandering at such hours. You worked yourself into the ground pretty much every night. Never understood why, the practice was running fine when I met you."

"The practice was more than 'running fine'," Lyall retorted lightly. "And why do you think that was, hm? I was carrying the business by that point, I had to work long hours."

Lilya took Caspar's hand and pulled it closer to herself. She wrapped it around his wrist, gauging the length. "Almost done," she declared.

Caspar gave her a small smile. "It looks great." He held his own over her wrist. "I still have a ways to go, I think."

"You could've delegated some of the paperwork, at least," Hild said from the other side of the table. She was marking off the fabric and double-checking measurements now. "And hand off more of the smaller cases to Viktor and me."

Lyall waved dismissively. "I tried a few transcribers, none of them could ever interpret my handwriting correctly. And the only one I actually liked left because he was overwhelmed by the workload. Anyway, we couldn't afford the extra hands, so it was--"

Going rigid for a split-second as he paused halfway in his work, Lyall pressed his eyes shut and breathed a low curse. Hild lifted her head, gaze narrowing at the back of her brother's head. Caspar flicked his own eyes between the two of them.

She pursed her lips. "Did Viktor know about this?" she asked slowly.

Returning to the braid with renewed vigor, Lyall shrugged a shoulder. "Didn't see the sense in worrying you two," he mumbled.

Hild's brows furrowed. "What about Ulf? He would've helped with the business side of it."

"Well," Lyall said, looking like he was scrambling to salvage a sinking ship, "I mean, see. Ulf had-- I didn't want to drag him back into it, you know? His own family was still young--"

"We're his family," Hild said flatly.

Lyall huffed through his nose. "He didn't-- He was done with the practice, Hild, I wasn't going to drag him back into it, because, you're right--"

"What was that?" Hild asked, holding a hand up to her ear with an innocent tilt of her head.

Lyall looked to Caspar with desperate eyes, looking like a cornered animal, but answered on his own anyway, "I'm not repeating that, I already regret saying it just the once. Ulf would have dropped everything in an instant to help, yes, but I didn't want him to. He was happy with where he was, why should I ruin that for him?"

Hild cast Caspar a look of disbelief. With a slight grimace, Caspar lifted his hands in surrender. He hadn't meant for conversation to take the turn that it did. And he didn't want to get involved by this point. It would inevitably turn into a 'picking sides' situation, which always got ugly.

"He could've decided for himself," Hild insisted. "And I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate that you never thought to even mention anything to him, either."

Lyall tied off the braid with some of Lilya's string. He leaned back, scrubbing his hands over his face, then running them over his hair. "Hild, what does it matter?" he asked, almost biting out his words in frustration. "That was years ago."

Hild set down her scissors on the table, leveling another glare at the back of his head. "I just want to understand why you didn't trust the rest of us with the fact that we were going under--"

"We weren't," he shot back, finally turning to meet her gaze with a heated glare of his own. "We were fine--"

"But you weren't," she retorted. "You bore such a heavy load on your own. Needlessly! Why wouldn't you ask me for help?"

Off to the side, Caspar heard Cy whisper, "Next page, please." He tilted his head their way a little. James turned the page, but he looked distracted.

"You didn't need to know about it," Lyall said emphatically.

"Like h--" Hild bit her tongue, then tried again through grit teeth, "Of course I needed to know. We all did. Viktor and I worked there, too, and Ulf would've cared."

Lyall rose to his feet and paced away from the bed. "Just drop it, Hild," he said, his voice hardening and his posture going rigid.

Hild stepped around the table and stood in his way. "Why didn't you ask for help?" she pressed.

He set his jaw. "Drop it--"

Tilting her chin up defiantly, she crossed her arms. "Tell me why."

"I don't--" He threw his hands upward, vexed. "I didn't want the help!"

"Why," she demanded again.

"I needed the work, okay?"

Lyall began to step away, but Hild grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him back.

"So you needed it more than we did?" Hild barked. "The practice mattered more to you than it did the rest of us?"

"What? No, I didn't mean--" He raked his hands over his head. "I needed the distraction--"

"From what?"

"From Mom! Gods, Hild, I--" Pushing her hand away, Lyall paced furiously, his hands still scratching at his scalp. "I didn't know what to do with myself." His voice was taut. "For some reason I couldn't just move on, even a year after she-- I needed the work to-- to--"

Lilya watched him over her shoulder, brows pinched with concern. Cy had sat up, too, and pulled her knees up tight to her chest. Beside her, James wasn't even trying to read anymore. He'd set the book down altogether.

Gnawing on his lip, Caspar wasn't sure if he should step in.

Lyall stopped in the middle of the room, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him now. Breathing in deep through his nose, he set his hands on his hips as he stood straighter and cleared his throat.

"I am... I apologize, I did not come here with the intentions of airing past grievances and causing distress in this way." He pointed a hand to the door. "I shall show myself out."

He took just a single step before Hild intercepted again. She grabbed him in a tight hug, tucking her head under his chin. Lyall stumbled a bit, but instantly wrapped his arms around her and leaned into the embrace.

In the blink of an eye, Lilya jumped down and clung to her father's legs. As Caspar averted his gaze, he watched Cy slip off the bed and pad over to the middle of the room as well, out of his line of sight. James was watching her slip away to join the hug with a sad, wistful look in his eyes. But the look faded when his eyes flicked to Caspar, like he'd felt like he was being watched.

Caspar focused on the half-finished bracelet in his hands again. He studied the tiny wooden beads that he clumsily wove into it, wondering if they were purchased anywhere, or made here by hand. The edges had a bit of a rough finish, so he was leaning toward the latter.

Lilya eventually returned, as quickly as she left. She hopped back up and moved along to finishing off the bracelets. As he followed her slightly rambling instruction, he glanced over her head.

Quickly withdrawing, Lyall stepped around his sister, plastering on a grin. "Mr. Hawke," he started with forced cheer, "I see Cy has given you a nice, varied sampling of our personal literary collection--"

Grabbing his arm, Hild dragged him back. "No," she said simply.

"'No'?" he echoed, exaggerated confusion knitting his brows together. "What do you mean 'no'? It's true, he has all the classics of every genre, we must discuss them at length immediately--"

Hild pushed on his back with both hands, leading him to the far other corner of the room. "Bother him another time about it, we need to talk."

"But wait," Lyall said desperately, trying to dig in his heels, "I think-- What was that, Cas? You need medical assistance? Hild, would you leave a man to perish?"

Caspar huffed a laugh. "I'm good," he called after them.

Hild waved to him in response, unconcerned. Resigned to his fate, Lyall dragged his feet as they went. Caspar watched as she forcefully sat him down on the farthest bed and perched on the edge beside him. Lyall had his arms crossed and his head bowed, looking for all the world like a petulant child as they now spoke in hushed tones.

In the corner of his eye, James had picked up the book again. Cy sat in the chair to read something else.

Grabbing his hand again, Lilya slipped the red and yellow bracelet over his hand. It hung loosely on his wrist.

"It's a sliding knot," she explained. " A really big one, because your hands are really big."

She tightened it a little bit for him. Caspar looked it over with an appreciative smile.

"This is excellent," he said softly, "thank you."

Lilya smiled wide in response. "You're welcome!"

The bracelet he gave her wasn't nearly as well-crafted. Lilya had graciously offered encouragements and happily wore it anyway. She then scooted closer, tucking against his left side, and picked up the same red and yellow strings as before to begin another bracelet. She quietly hummed a familiar tune as she worked.

Caspar eased back against the wall, slowly so he didn't jostle her, and tilted his head up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes. Hild and Lyall were still exchanging words in semi-private. Not really listening to their words, Caspar let their voices and Lilya's soft song fill his ears, almost like white noise.

Their voices gradually faded. As he sat staring at the ceiling, Caspar wracked his brain for ways to approach James again. Because he would have to eventually. What could he possibly say, though? Jack's name slipped out, and he finally told James about the kid, but it hardly counted as a proper explanation for anything.

James probably put a lot of the important things together already from the scraps of information he had been given over time, but an explanation, some officially-spoken context, felt necessary. If only to perhaps explain away Caspar's own behaviour, and to try to move far past it. But then he was caught in this internal debate about oversharing, about burdening James with far more than was necessary.

Burdened.

James had said that too, about his own life, and the possibility of sharing it with Hild.

Caspar frowned. He himself would never fully know what to do with any of it, and what James would want to do with it, if he neglected to share anything. The only way either of them would be able to move forward would be talking it through together.

He pressed both hands over his eyes, resigned and frankly exhausted. This was too much self-awareness for a single morning.

In the far corner of the room, Lyall and Hild rose to their feet again. Lyall appeared less disgruntled than when they first sat, but he still didn't look entirely pleased now either. Hild must have gotten through to him, though, because his posture had relaxed again as he patted her on the shoulder and stepped away.

"Alright, kiddos," Lyall said aloud on his way to the door, "we can visit again after lunch. Lilya, pack up, please. Cy, you can leave the books.

Though reluctant, Lilya obeyed and hopped down with a small wave. Caspar waved back. Cy left the books by James as instructed. Standing by the door, Lyall patted both the girls' heads as he wheeled his other arm to usher them along.

"Consider yourselves warned," Lyall declared brightly, his self-confidence returning full force, "we shall return."

With a dismissive wave, Hild paced around the table and reoriented the fabric. "We await with trepidation."

Caspar was about ready to bid him farewell too, but was interrupted by a low yet very audible growl of his stomach before he could say anything. Lyall arched a brow.

"It actually may be best you join us, Cas," Lyall said with an amused grin.

"Yes," Hild said sternly, shooting him a pointed look, "go, eat something. I won't be able to focus with all that racket."

Huffing a laugh, Caspar pushed himself to the edge of his bed. He paused when his eyes met James's for a second. Tentatively, he said, "I'll, uh, see you in a few minutes."

"Don't forget to chew," James deadpanned, though teasing.

Caspar smiled, and the tension in his chest loosened a little. "I will do my best."

In preparation for their venture into Ruddlan, Hild had taken James's measurements in order to gauge what clothes would fit him while he went his own way to the market. Caspar accompanied her, so she was able to check for his measurements on location once they found a tailoring and fabrics shop.

In addition to throwing extra money at James for spices (though she later realized that the full effect of good spices may have been lost on the three of them anyway), she took the liberty of grabbing some fabric rolls to design something herself. Two rather impulsive purchases, perhaps. They didn't have any income to consistently afford such spending habits, but she determined they should live in what small ways they could, even as they doggedly forged ahead with danger right on their heels.

This refuge with her brother was unexpected, to say the least. If nothing went horribly wrong beforehand, she anticipated having to eventually venture into a likely much smaller town in the hopes of finding an inn room to begin her project. This shelter in the wilderness wasn't expected, but much cleaner than any anticipated public space and incredibly welcome.

She stood back after marking off sections on the spread fabric. She'd already measured everything thrice, yet still hesitated to actually start.

It was a broadcloth, almost satin in texture, in a rich azure. There were multiple shades to pick from in the shop, but this one in particular brought out the deep blue of James's eyes, and contrasted well with his complexion and ruddy hair.

Since she couldn't convince Caspar to try his hand at the design, Hild simply drafted it herself. She laid out the sketch of the envisioned coat off to the side and closely considered the marked measurements again. Everything matched up exactly. She picked up her fabric scissors. Paused. Then finally made the first cut.

Once she started, her confidence flooded back to her. With swift, precise movements as she worked, the parts of the coat steadily took shape. Everything went smoothly until she reached the collar of the front. The lower blade of the scissors was closer than she realized, and she sliced her index finger.

Biting out a curse, Hild dropped the scissors and fabric and stepped back from the table. The cut wasn't very deep, but it spanned the side of her finger. Blood welled up in an instant.

"Are you okay?" James asked, setting down his book.

"I'm fine," she muttered. Picking up her bag from the floor, she tossed it onto Caspar's bed and dug through with both hands.

"Did you cut yourself?" James asked, still looking in her direction.

Hild perched on the edge of the bed with her medical pack set on her lap. "Yes. It's shallow and clean, though, and will heal fine." She held up her left hand at shoulder height as she picked through the pack for a roll of cloth.

"Did you get any blood on your project?" James asked.

"Thankfully, no."

Red feathered out into the lines of her palm.

Fear rushed her as the storm lit the trees in a flash of lightning. The rain tried washing James's blood from her hands, but her skin was stained.

'I'd have asked you to dinner.'

They almost lost before they could even begin.

Blinking hard to rid of that last thought, Hild quickly wrapped a small strip of cloth around her finger and applied the appropriate amount of pressure over the cut. "Everything is untainted and still usable."

"That's good," James hummed.

Setting the pack aside, Hild rested her elbows on her knees and glanced him over for a moment. "How are you feeling today?"

"A little better, I think," James said. "Though it's hard to say, when I'm not feeling much of the pain I'm in. I'm sure if I was moving more I'd be able to tell. Though Mel said by tomorrow she'd let me sit up, so that's something."

She hummed in agreement. "Much faster progress than last time."

"She's doing a lot of the work," James said. "Healing my body for itself. With magic."

Sitting back, Hild tucked her legs underneath herself as she turned to the medical pack again. "Who else did you know with magic? You've mentioned the girl with time magic, and that you haven't yet met anyone with fire. Until recently."

James blinked slowly. "To my knowledge," he added.

Hild nodded, echoing, "To your knowledge."

There was a long pause as James hesitated.

"I... have met two other healers," he said slowly, staring up at the ceiling. "I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't."

Hild paused and she studied him from the corner of her eye. His face was kept blank as he firmly trained his eyes upward. His hesitation and careful words told her that this was a matter to be treated delicately.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hild located a bandage as she picked her next words carefully.

"They must have been very honorable people," she said tentatively, glancing at James to check that she wasn't going the wrong direction.

James flicked his eyes to her, but only for a second.

"They were," he said, a little quieter.

The guarded-ness was also a sign of increased sobriety. She briefly noted that this development was, in complicated ways, good.

Hild nodded once more. With the already stained cloth, she cleaned off around the cut and the rest of her hand where blood trailed down, and quickly bandaged her finger.

"The project on the table is for you, if you were wondering," she said, a bit more abrupt than she'd hoped. She grimaced inwardly, but went on, "Nothing in Ruddlan quite matched what I had in mind, so I decided to simply make it myself."

James blinked again, but his eyes settled back on her.

"Oh?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Can I know what it is or is it a surprise?"

She started to answer, stopped short, then opted for, "Try to guess."

James closed his eyes and hummed, like he was thinking back. Hild felt herself smile a little as she waited.

"A vest. Or a waistcoat. I can't recall the specifics," he said as he opened his eyes again.

Hopping off the bed, Hild grabbed her sketch from the table and held it aloft for him to see. "Not quite," she said lightly.

James looked to the paper, his eyes scanning the page thoroughly.

The design in question had taken a slightly different shape from her original vision. The shapes of the body and the lapels were boxier, which would help form a more commanding air. It was still knee-length, though, and the same blue as she first imagined.

The final draft likely would have had a better, more subtle depth to the shapes if Caspar had drawn it, but her draftsmanship served its purpose and communicated the intended image clearly.

A small smile came and went as he met her eyes.

"Does my current state serve as an adequate excuse for my forgetfulness?" he asked.

With a playful sigh, she set the paper back down on the table. "I suppose." She smoothed the creases on the page, then perched on Caspar's bed again with her legs folded. "Though, in fairness, I did mention a waistcoat, for which I'll need to find more materials next."

"I look forward to wearing it," James said, another smile teasing at his lips. "When it all comes together."

"You'll wear it very well," Hild said, without thinking. Paused, glancing off for a second, then added, "The color, and fit. It will be. All very flattering on you."

Her delivery was alarmingly halting, which puzzled her. She had given him a compliment just fine before, so stating a simple fact shouldn't have felt that strange.

Straightening and tightly folding her hands, she forced herself to meet his eyes again. His cheeks were pink as he broke eye contact and looked off to the side with a shy smile that she'd never really seen on him before.

"It helps when you have a good tailor," he said.

Hild inclined her head, painfully aware of the rising heat in her own face. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It-- You make for a, ah... Excellent assistant."

"If all I do to assist you is wear the nice clothes you make, then I'm quite a lucky man," James said with a little laugh.

"You're overqualified for such a job," Hild said, forcing a breezy smile despite the...buzzing in her nerves.

"At least the pay is good," James said with a smile in return.

Hild packed away her medical supplies with jerky movements, and asked, trying to keep from lapsing into any awkward silences, "And what would that be?"

"More time with you."

Her mind ground to a halt. She blinked at her bag.

It was...an endearing sentiment. Sweet, sincere. It ushered in another wave of uncertainty. She was at a complete loss for words. Hild shoved the pack into her bag and strapped it shut with more force than necessary. She kept her eyes trained on the floor space between them, counting the seconds as they passed.

In Needle Point, when they still hardly knew each other, she extended an olive branch when she stitched up his side. After she caught glimpses of how much he already deeply cared for Caspar. When she saw a decent man under his rough exterior when he assured her of her own safety.

He had a complex history. Endured so much heartache and forged through so many hardships. Opening up was a gradual process, but when he finally, genuinely smiled? It was that much more incredible. Beautiful, even.

Especially when they danced by the river. Completely relaxed and loose as he led them into an excited, complex waltz. Confident and smiling unabashedly at her as he carefully dipped her. Something fluttered in her chest when she let herself fully smile back at him.

Ever since that point, her stomach flipped whenever she caught him looking her way. Sincere compliments would completely scramble her brain, and she would have to fight to re-order her thoughts enough to coherently respond in time. And she found herself carefully holding close whatever pieces of himself he did entrust to her.

Entertaining the thought of any else forming between them felt like trying to open up a locked door. So Hild told herself that she simply wasn't thinking clearly, labeled the thoughts and emotions as juvenile, and tried shoving it all away into a box to be ignored. Because she assumed it wouldn't go anywhere.

'I'd have asked you to dinner,' could have been his final words.

They could have lost before they had a chance to begin, and the thought terrified her. It was debilitating. And she hadn't known how to broach it since, so she didn't. She figured they'd go back to their usual rapport, and she would resume waiting out whatever this was on her end.

"Hild," James said after ten long seconds ticked by. He paused, so she tore her gaze up from the floor to his eyes.

"I don't know if there will ever be a perfect time to ask - but would you let me take you on a date?" he asked as the look in his eyes softened. "As proper of a date as can be managed given the circumstances? That is... if you'd like to."

Now they were given a second chance, a true opportunity to begin. And James was now jumping to take it.

Hild was always an opportunist herself.

Tilting her head a little, letting the warmth in her chest extend to her smile, Hild answered earnestly, "I would like that."

The look that washed over James's face was a mix of surprise, relief, and elation. He smiled. It was infectious, and she felt herself brighten too as something, that warmth, swelled and practically overtook her.

"It might be best to at least wait until I'm walking again," he said. "So we could go somewhere with real light. Sunlight."

Hild laughed-- she wasn't sure why, that was only mildly amusing-- and nodded. "Walking and sunlight help," she agreed.

"It's a shame we can't go into cities at the moment," James went on. "I would've loved to show you around Ruddlan, taking our time. I think you'd have enjoyed it."

She hummed in thought. "Perhaps another city will suffice later down the road."

"If the opportunity arises, I guess I'll just have to ask you on a date again," he said with a little grin.

Hild mirrored his gentle smile. "I'll be ready for that moment."

"I'm sure you will," James said, his grin turning into a smirk.

Tilting her head the other way, smile persisting, she playfully narrowed her eyes just slightly at him. "Especially now if you plan on trying to catch me off-guard."

"Off-guard?" James asked with a playful innocence. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Hild hummed again, sounding unconvinced. "Read your books now, Hawke." She rose to her feet with her bag slung over her shoulder. "I have work to do if you want to look sharp for our date."

"And what will you wear?" James asked.

She smiled slightly. "I have a few ideas."

"I look forward to seeing what you choose," James said. "Though I'm sure you will look lovely either way."

Her cheeks and ears burned. Noticeably, she was sure. Tilting her chin up, almost in defiance of herself, she replied simply, "I will. And you shall look dashing, and we will make a completely charming pair."

James's smile broadened, making his dimples fully visible.

"I do fear I'll have trouble appreciating the full scope of your work, though," James said. "Seeing as I already don't want to take my eyes off you."

Rolling her eyes, Hild scoffed, but couldn't contain her own smile. "Read," she said firmly, stepping back to the fabric still spread over the table.

James picked up the book again, but when she looked closer, he was merely holding the book up and peeking at her over it. Hild leaned over the table again, head bowed to force herself to focus as she finished cutting along the collar of the coat, and to hide the full flush of her cheeks.

Eventually, James did return to reading, but she noticed his feet started tapping the air under his blanket. It didn't seem like he was even aware he was doing it. Hild had to bite down a bubbling laugh and began arranging the fabric pieces.

The next four days passed like a hazy dream, punctuated with great highs and great lows. Any moment Hild would visit, his heart would flutter, and he would forget the bullet that had been dug out of his gut only days before. When Lyall and his kids would visit, they carried with them a joyful busyness that provided a very welcome distraction while he was stuck in the infirmary. And whenever Caspar came by his quiet presence was like a balm over an itching wound.

But when everyone was gone, James was left alone with his thoughts.

The first two days he read through the books Cy had left him as a desparate effort to avoid the storm in his own head, but after speeding through all of them, the words couldn't grip his attention enough to keep the storm at bay. He found himself succumbing to the overwhelming weight of uncertainty that rushed in like a flood. Every dream was painted with blood, both his own and of Alexander and Ivar. The hours of the night were spent in agonizing silence as his mind played through those moments over and over, piecing things together bit by bit. The picture became clearer with each reimagining, but as the horror of it all became more vivid, it only intensified the writhing in his own soul to escape it.

He felt like a pot of boiling water. The lid was secured too tight, and the pressure was building underneath as the heat beneath him burned hotter. He was desperately trying to keep from bursting, but he didn't know from what, or what would come out when he did.

It felt like he was dangerously close to falling apart, and that terrified him.

Circumstantially, he was safer than he'd been in years. Hidden beneath the earth, protected by skilled mages, being healed by magic that was aiding in his recovery. There was talk of them staying. Finding a place. Finding stability. Even making a home here, or with this group of people. No one had extended the invitation to him, but he knew Caspar and Hild were likely weighing their options.

Hild would finally get to be with her family. Caspar would be reunited with an old friend. They could run alongside the mages that they loved and lost their freedom for with a real community, no longer lone wolves drifting in and out of society, trying to avoid capture.

But James wasn't a mage, or a family friend. For all he knew, to everyone at the hideout, he was just some criminal. Trusted merely by association.

It was strange, though.

He was discovering that there was a part of him that almost wanted the mages to tell him he couldn't stay.

Somehow, he found himself longing to return to the road. To the lonely, inconsistent life, roaming Nye with no place to rest.

It was wrong that when he was in danger he felt most at home. Now that every immediate threat and concern was ripped away from him, he almost felt helpless. He didn't know how to do normal life anymore, and he didn't know if he wanted to.

And now Caspar and Hild were far too closely intertwined in that mess - and he was terrified for the day they'd see him burst under the pressure of normalcy.

If he had to liken it to anything, he would compare it to a deep-sea fish. Deep-sea creatures were made to endure the pressures of the ocean deep, and they thrived where few other creatures could. But when you ripped them from the depths and pulled them to the surface, their bodies would collapse, and they'd die.

Perhaps it was too dramatic of a comparison, but it very much felt like his reality.

The fact that he was getting better, somehow, was only making things worse.

He was sitting up in the bed. He'd been sitting up for two days, propped up with pillows, as he'd been moved to a bed against the wall. He watched as Mel removed the needle from his arm, finally telling him that he wouldn't be needing it anymore. That his gut was fully healed - though still tender - and all he had to do was build up strength again.

He didn't feel present in his body when she helped him get on his feet, and his muscles ached from atrophy and lack of movement. Mel waited, holding him steady as he simply stood upright, feeling the weight of his own body on his feet.

He'd been eating the past four days, too. That had helped things, but his appetite still felt alarmingly small compared to what it was before.

If he wasn't being brought food and being watched while he ate, he wasn't sure if he'd have been eating at all.

"Would you like to try for a lap around the room?" Mel asked, hand still on his back.

James absently nodded.

"Alright, let's go this way," Mel said as she began to lead him around the bed, over to Caspar, who was standing like a goalpost. The goal was to reach him. Considering it was only a few feet, James felt like it shouldn't have been that difficult.

But his body felt weak, and though his gut was healed, there was something lingering in his frame. Like everything inside of him knew he shouldn't be alive. Like the claws of death were still holding onto him, just more loosely now.

He was so focused on walking that he stumbled when Mel slowed him to a stop, and he stumbled forward a little, his face meeting Caspar's shoulder. With sturdy hands, Caspar gently steadied him again and offered a small smile.

"I like the enthusiasm," he said softly. "How'd that feel?"

James tried to support his own weight, steadying his stance so he wasn't leaning on Caspar as much for support. Mel had pulled away now that Caspar had him.

James tried to muster a smile, but nothing came.

"Like walking," he said, trying to sound sarcastic.

Something in Caspar's smile faltered a little. His eyes were tinged with concern.

"A thorough answer," Mel joked lightly, patting his back - though the pat barely registered. "Ready for the walk back?"

James nodded, and he started to turn around. This time, Caspar was beside him as he made the walk around the other bed, circling back to his own against the wall.

It was nice to feel more blood flow from the movement, but his head felt uncomfortably light, and his feet disproportionally heavy. When he sat back down on his bed, he leaned all of his weight back on the pillows propping him up.

He barely paid attention as Mel gave light congratulations, summarized the state of his current progress, and exchanged words with Caspar. He only nodded in reply when he was addressed, and eventually, she was gone, leaving only Caspar behind.

The room felt smaller when she left, and though there were only two people, it felt crowded.

Or maybe it was just his mind that felt crowded.

Pulling the chair over, Caspar sat down next to the bed. Leaning back, he absently scratched at his neck, then tugged on the scarf to cover it again.

"Have you been to Great Sands before?" Caspar eventually asked.

James blinked slowly, and he looked to Caspar, trying to understand where the question came from.

"Yes," he said. "I passed through. Years ago."

Caspar nodded. "I, uh, hear that Ghostfire Canyon's a sight. Have you seen it?"

"Yeah," James said quietly. "It's... overwhelming. If you're looking down into it."

"Yeah? It sounds like an impressive place." Caspar scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Would you want to see it again? If... If we happen to be close by. Around the area."

James furrowed his brows together, turning his attention to Caspar more closely as he observed him.

"Why?" he asked.

Caspar blinked, then fidgeted a little under his more attentive gaze. "Well, it." He shrugged a little and murmured, "I don't know, I'd just like to see it sometime."

James swallowed. He felt his attention drift away again.

Caspar wanted to stay with James. Was he saying he wanted to leave with him? Or that he'd go with him if he left?

"I'm... not sure if I'll be going that way," James said distantly. "We'll have to... see."

"That's fine," Caspar said, nodding again. "Play it by ear."

James nodded loosely. "Yeah."

Lightly drumming his hands on his legs, Caspar idly scanned the room. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. With eyes downcast, he slotted his fingers together.

James felt like Caspar wanted to say something, but there was an uneasy uncertainty in the silence that followed.

"It shouldn't have been you," Caspar finally said, barely audible.

James blinked slowly, letting his mind piece together what was unsaid.

"It shouldn't have been anyone," he said emptily. "In a perfect world. But it's what happened."

Tilting his head up to look at James, Caspar's brows were drawn, and his mouth set in a hard line. "I just-- I'm so sorry that it did."

James looked down at his stomach.

When his gut had been fully healed, he was finally permitted a shirt, but it felt like a thin shadow over the scar that remained. No one had asked any questions about the other scars - where they'd come from, or how long he'd had them. No one brought attention to the fact that, compared to all the others, the scar the bullet left behind was barely noticeable anyway, despite all the damage it had done inside.

"There's nothing to apologize for," James said quietly. "But if it... helps. I forgive you."

Caspar mustered a slight smile. It was devoid of any real warmth, and didn't reach his eyes. He dropped his gaze back down to the floor.

James was at a loss. But he felt like he should say... something.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Straightening a little, Caspar glanced sideways for a moment and drew in a slow breath. "Given the circumstances," he started, trying to keep his tone lighter, "um, yeah. I'm..."

Caspar scratched the back of his neck. Then slumped back in the chair with a quiet sigh. He managed to look small. "Look, I don't know what...what happened the other night. I wasn't-- I didn't mean to call you that. It just-- it slipped. And I'm sorry about that."

It took James another moment to track with him. The other night -- Caspar was referring to their argument. James's expression softened, even though he inwardly cringed at himself in remembrance of the things he'd blurted out in that conversation.

"It's alright, Cas," James said. "I know you didn't mean to."

Bouncing his leg, Caspar nodded as he stared at the space next to James, unable to meet his eyes. He clenched his jaw for a second. "I'm not sure..." he began, his voice a murmur, then dropping altogether as he glanced up in thought.

Then he tried again, slowly, eyes still fixed elsewhere, "You probably don't remember it, and I'm not sure that...you'd want to. And, giving it more thought now, it's--" Caspar shifted in his seat and wrung his hands, and his words started tumbling out, faster, more distressed. "I feel like you should know, you know? But it probably wouldn't change anything anyway, so maybe it would be best to just act like it never happened, but I feel like I do that a lot, and it's not helpful, but I don't know-- What do I do? What happened happened, and I can't completely forget of course, so the things that happen that I'm just ignoring just keep mounting, and they shouldn't make a difference but they keep getting harder to ignore--"

James could sense that Caspar was talking in circles around something without actually saying it. James had said something while in pain or under the influence of medication and apparently it had been weighing on Caspar for a long time now.

What the hell had he said?

"Cas," James cut in. "What happened? What did I say that I forgot?"

Jolting out of his downward spiral, Caspar snapped his mouth shut and finally met his gaze again. His mind was still running, though, still spinning helplessly with a million thoughts. Very quietly, he answered, "You said that, um." He scratched behind his ear. "You said that sometimes...I remind you of your father."

James stared at Caspar.

Okay.

That wasn't what he was expecting.

"Oh," James said faintly as his eyes flicked to the side. He cleared his throat. "Well. Uh... huh. I... I mean, I've thought it, sure. Didn't think I'd ever say it out loud."

Expression slightly pinched and his arms now folded across his chest, Caspar looked like he was trying to brace himself for something. "That was." He swallowed. "That's it."

James tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

"That's it?" he echoed.

Caspar turned his eyes back to the spot beside James. He only hummed an affirmative.

James drew his brows together, watching Caspar as he clearly mulled over more things he didn't want to say out loud.

"What else did I say to you?" James asked, trying to prepare himself for the unknown. He didn't know what he might've said while hallucinating or -- whatever else.

Pressing his eyes shut, Caspar lifted a hand to cover his face. "We--" He huffed a breath out his nose. "It's not-- It was awhile ago, it doesn't..." He slumped further in the chair.

James didn't have the strength to lean forward or shift his position, but he did continue to watch Caspar closely, watching as he folded into himself, making himself smaller and smaller the more he stuttered his way out of saying anything.

James had a feeling he wouldn't like what was brough up if he pressed for answers, but he also didn't like the thought of Caspar knowing things without James knowing that Caspar knew.

"Caspar," James said again, this time more firmly. "I know there's a lot of memories that I lost due to the Lumshade, blood loss, and everything else my body has been through. I don't know what I said or did during most of those times, and if there was anything I told you or said to that was important, I'd really rather know."

With another, heavier sigh, Caspar turned his eyes back up, tilting his head so it rested on his hand. His gaze was distant, likely reliving those moments.

"Of course," he said softly, "that's. More than fair." Breathing in deep, Caspar let his hands drop down to his lap.

"The last time Alexander caught up to us," Caspar said carefully, "and once the lumshade hit you full force... I think. You were seeing everything differently again. At some point, you were apologizing for leaving. I won't assume who you saw. But you said you..." He bit his lip, then went on, his voice growing hoarse, "You said you still love them. I just-- I was trying to... I don't know, but we-- You were still hurt, and then you were hurting. I had to answer, so I said for them, that I... They still love you too."

He couldn't remember the moment, or what exactly had been said. Or how the words felt. Or what he'd been seeing in the moment.

But the fact that he'd said I still love you, or even I love you at all... he knew who he was speaking to. Or at least, who he had believed he was speaking to at the time. And it wasn't Caspar.

He had to have thought he was seeing his sister, and his mother.

All of the guilt about what had happened with Butch and Ivar, and even Alexander - none of it even came close to the guilt that weighed on him since the day he abandoned his family. To tell them he still loved them had only ever been a quiet wish in his heart. One he knew he would never see come to pass. Not if he wanted to keep them safe. Not if he wanted to let them live, and move on with their lives.

James found himself staring into his lap, at his hands held loosely together.

Now that they'd readdressed - at least, in part - how Caspar saw him like a son, James felt his next question was worth asking.

"Did you say it just because you wanted to pacify me, or was it because... I reminded you of Jack?" James asked quietly.

Slowly leaning forward, Caspar raked his hands over his bowed head, and held them there. "I didn't mean to," he whispered at the ground, "I'm sorry."

"Caspar, you don't need to apologize for missing him," James said quietly, looking up to Caspar again - even though Caspar was practically shielding his whole face. "I know you... have trouble talking about him. That's alright. I didn't like talking about my father for the longest time either. I don't think that's wrong. Sometimes it just takes a long time for the memories to stop hurting."

He paused, unsure if he was overstepping. He didn't want to make assumptions.

Cautiously, he took in a deep breath and mustered the strength to reach out, leaning forward ever so slightly so he could rest his hand on Caspar's shoulder.

"For... for what it's worth," he said, finding his throat suddenly getting tight. He swallowed, annoyed with the emotions trying to fight their way out. "I'm very grateful for you and the ways you've cared for me. I..."

He pressed his lips together, having to swallow hard again.

"I hadn't realized how much I -- I missed having -- a..."

This was going to be hard to say either way. James rested his hand a little heavier on Caspar's shoulder.

"A father figure," James finished, barely audible as he pulled his hand away. "Ever since... you know. I've just had to look out for myself."

Sniffing, Caspar tilted his head up again and stayed leaning on his elbows. Eyes wet, he managed to look directly at James this time. "You don't have to anymore," he said, tentative and voice thick. His gaze warmed as he offered a small, sincere smile. "Whatever comes next for you, you don't have to face it alone."

James felt his throat getting tighter as Caspar met his eyes. He took in a slow, steady breath as he blinked slowly and deliberately, still keeping the storm of emotions at bay.

"I don't know what's next," he said, his voice tense as he tried not to sound as desperately lost as he felt.

Caspar huffed a wry laugh, and his smile grew a little as he spread his hands out in a small shrug. "Neither do I. We'll figure it out as we go."

James dropped his eyes to his lap.

"...Don't you want to stay here?" James asked quietly.

"A part of me does," Caspar answered honestly. "But. A stationary life never suited me much."

"What about Lyall?" James asked.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Caspar flicked his eyes down to his toes for just a moment. "I'm... I can't even begin to...describe how happy I've been. To see him again, and know that he's doing well." He tilted his head as he glanced at the door. "I'm. Good with leaving," he said, sincerely. "Our paths crossed again when they were supposed to, and I can. Move on now."

"What about Hild?" James asked. "I know I should ask her what she wants, but... I imagine she'd want to stay with her brother."

Caspar looked off to the side in thought, then shrugged. "If she stays, then she stays. Either way, I'm going with you."

James was quiet for a moment.

"I... don't know what I want yet," James said.

He wanted to talk with Hild too.

Caspar nodded. "You don't have to know yet," he said reassuringly. "Just. Take your time, talk it out if you have to. And let me know what you do decide."

James nodded in turn.

"Today is the first day I've been on my feet in a week," he commented quietly.

"Yeah," Caspar said softly. "And you looked good. You're doing good."

James looked down at his side, gingerly resting his hand over the healed bullet wound.

"I know it's better, but..." he paused, letting out a sigh. "It almost feels like something's missing."

That was how he felt whenever he'd been healed by magic, though. The pain was gone, but it was like his mind was still telling him it was supposed to be there.

Caspar tilted his head. "What's that?" he asked curiously, and his tone gentle.

James flicked his eyes over to Caspar.

"The... well-- I-- it's just that it's healed a lot faster than-- than it should," he said quickly.

Caspar nodded in understanding. "It's weird," he agreed. He absently scratched at his side. "I think we just need to catch up with the...expedited healing process?"

"Do you feel it too?" James asked, looking up to meet Caspar's eyes.

Sitting straighter, Caspar lifted his arm and twisted a little as he more intentionally felt at his right side. "Uh, yeah. I'm just. Guessing that it's because of the, um. Yeah."

James stared at Caspar's side for a moment.

He'd never really had a chance to see much of the aftermath of the fight with Butch. He'd barely seen Butch at all, for that matter. All he knew was that Caspar made it out alive.

Swallowing, James hesitantly looked back up at Caspar.

"How badly did he hurt you?" James asked quietly.

Caspar snapped his eyes back up to James, staring blankly at him for a moment. "Oh," he said, as though he was just hit by his own words. "No, it wasn't bad. Just a few cuts, but s'fine."

James pressed his lips together in a line, nodding stiffly.

"That's... good," he said.

"Yeah."

James didn't look up at him.

"Thank you," he said lowly. "For... for facing him."

When he couldn't.

"Any time," Caspar said, sounding resolute, like he fully meant that.

James still couldn't look up to meet his eyes. He couldn't think of anything more to say.

"I know I've said it more than once," James continued. "But I'm glad you're alright."

"Thanks," Caspar answered softly. "I, um. It's really good to see you on the mend, too."

"It'll be nice when I can finally leave this room," James offered, trying to lighten conversation.

"Yeah, I think you'll like the place," Caspar said with a slight grin. "It's, ah. Cozy. Spacious for an underground house, though. Nice sense of close community here."

"Mel mentioned something about there being a small stable above-ground?" James asked. "How have the horses been doing?"

"They're great." Caspar shifted to sit more comfortably on the chair. "They look good when I check on them. Hild visits them most frequently. Elliot sends his love. He'll definitely be happy to see you again."

"I sure hope so," James said, his eyes drifting to the door that led out into the hall.

"Are there many others?" James asked. "Or... have I met most of the people here?"

Caspar turned his eyes up to the ceiling as he counted off his fingers. "You've met...four out of ten, I think."

"Ten," James hummed. "Bigger than I thought."

Caspar hummed in agreement. "It's a happening place."

"Are the others... uh," James hesitated.

"I think you'll like them," Caspar answered, smiling warmly. "They're all great."

James offered a very weak smile in return.

"You know," he said, attempting at a joking tone. "This is probably the most people I'll have met who know my real name since..."

He cleared his throat.

"Well. A very long time," he said.

Though still gentle, Caspar's eyes turned searching. "Is that alright with you?" he asked softly.

"Well, it hardly makes sense to introduce myself to the others by a different name than the one Mel and Lyall and the kids already know me by," James said, his smile growing, but it was a little strained. "It would only be confusing."

Caspar nodded, glancing down at his folded hands. "I guess."

James looked at the door again.

"Do you think I could try walking again?" he asked.

He was tired, but he wanted to build up strength again. As fast as he could manage.

Following James's gaze, Caspar hesitated. "I, um... I guess if you're up for it."

James nodded.

"I am."

Hild helped with clean up after breakfast (she opted not to offer trying her hand at cooking again, especially not for such a large group). As she headed out to check on the horses for the morning, Mel and Caspar turned the other way for what she assumed would be a routine check-up on James.

Penumbra and Elliot perked up when they heard her approach, and tapped expectant hooves. Eir quickly lost interest when Hild stepped into the shelter; she was likely hoping for Caspar.

Penumbra was a steady creature. She wasn't as particular as Eir as far as preferences for anything went, and wasn't as rambunctious as Elliot. She was a seasoned traveler and didn't scare easily, but was still cautious. Hild appreciated that about her. Penumbra settled in an instant when Hild reached out a hand to her.

Elliot calmed very quickly, as well. Perhaps a little too quickly. While brushing him down, he was less attentive. He was happy for the visit, but his usual chipper disposition was dampened this morning.

It was now up to a week since Butch and Ivar. So almost a week that Elliot last saw James, which was likely when he was carried in on the stretcher.

Hild stepped around in front of Elliot, stroking his neck. "He's getting better," she said gently, "and I'm sure he'll come see you as soon as he's able."

"Which may be sooner than you think," Lyall said brightly from beside her.

Hild managed to stay firmly rooted where she was, even as she started at the unexpected proximity of his voice. She did glare heatedly at him, though. He simply smiled back at her, unfazed.

"I forgot how much I despise the way you sneak around," she muttered. She patted Elliot's nose. "We are engaged in a private discussion here, so if you would so kind as to step out--"

Raising his hands in surrender, Lyall obliged and took a small step back. "Alright, I just thought you'd like to hear the good news. Milestones are to be celebrated together, after all."

She stared at him. "What--"

"Well, I'm glad you ask!" Lyall grinned wide again, and swept his arms outward. "Your friend James is back on his feet. Didn't walk more than a yard so far today, Mel wants him to take it easy for now, but truly a victory nonetheless! I would suggest we break open a bottle of champagne or something, but, ah. We're sadly short on alcohol out here. Though I did glimpse a flask in Cas's things when he was rooting around for his sketchbook recently. Perhaps if he felt so inclined, we could take shots out of that..."

Hild could do more than watch blankly as he went on, now rather aimlessly.

The, admittedly very loose and vague, plan was to. Go on a date. Once he was walking again. For sunlight and such.

Did they want to wait until a city? That wouldn't be for awhile, so that was probably a no. Maybe for a another time, though she couldn't be sure that they would still be...going on dates at that point.

She couldn't be sure of anything, really, as far as courting went. She never made the time for it before. She couldn't truthfully say that she never met anyone before now who interested her enough to entertain the thought to 'date', but now she was actually actively going to do something about it.

And how would two go about a 'date' in the wilderness?

How did two even go about a 'date' in society?

"...not very sanitary, though we do have cups," Lyall rambled on. "Now that I think about it, James probably wouldn't be able to partake just yet either. And would be the point of observing this achievement if he can't celebrate his own success-- Hild, stay with me." He waved a hand in front of her eyes.

Hild snapped to attention. Tilting his head as he studied her, brows drawn in concern, Lyall pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

"You okay?" he asked. "You're really red all of a sudden. Do you feel like you're coming down with something?"

She blinked at him.

Lyall dated before. He would have insights, as much as the thought of asking for his guidance pained her.

Did she really want to risk asking for his help? He could very well misguide her with the intent of sabotaging a relationship. That felt like something he would do.

Having something to work with would be better than walking into it blind, though.

"Be honest, alright?" Lyall said gently. "There's never any point in hiding a medical problem. The only way anyone can help is if you're upfront about it. If you feel sick, we should set you up in the room with Cas and James."

She could ask Caspar, but he was likely just as lost on the finer details, if not more so than her. When they last broached the subject years ago, he sheepishly mentioned only ever achieving definitive rejections in the latter part of his teen years. And Hild distinctly recalled him declining one of the nurses' offer to dinner, completely oblivious that he was rebuffing someone's affections.

Hild had to ask her brother, then.

"Probably at the other side of the room," Lyall went on. He led her out of the stable. "Just to account for anything contagious. Can't have your friend there getting sick while still recovering from a bullet wound and all--"

She ripped out of his grasp, and he stumbled as she dragged him by the back of his jacket into the stable again.

"What do I do?" Hild asked, voice low and urgent.

He found his footing again, then huffed. "Well, I can't really say until you give me a list of symptoms. You're warm, but not quite feverish." Taking her hand again, he held two fingers to her wrist. "Your heart rate's elevated, and your hands are sweaty. What's with that? You never sweat."

Lyall reached to check her eyes. Hild batted his hands away.

"No, I mean--" She stopped short. Pressing her lips into a hard line, she clenched her hands and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, as if she'd find the words etched there. Lyall waited with wide, concerned eyes.

Releasing the tension in her hands, she tried again, calmer, "How should I prepare for a date?"

Lyall's eyes grew even wider. "What? Date? When? Where? With whom? Why you would want to--"

Harshly shushing him, Hild clapped a hand over his mouth. "Just some insight is all I ask," she said, practically staring him down. "Do not try to be funny or make this more uncomfortable than this has to be. Just. Honest. Advice."

Lyall nodded, so Hild backed away again. He glanced her over, as if trying to at first glean more information, then asked, "It's James, right?"

"Well, it's certainly not Caspar," she said flatly.

Lyall snorted at that. She smacked his shoulder, and he recoiled.

"Of course it's James," she snapped, "gods, Lyall!"

"Alright, sorry, I just needed to be sure," he mumbled.

"Who else would it be?" she demanded, throwing her hands upward in exasperation.

Lyall wilted further. "That was a foolish question, I see that now!"

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"Well what?"

A beat silence. Hild glared at him. "Fine, I'll just go into it blind--"

"Oh!" Lyall nodded. "Right, advice. Ah." He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked askance. "Well. See, I've directed our dear brothers on the etiquette for a proper date. I don't imagine it'd be much different with you, current circumstances notwithstanding." He cleared his throat. "Traveling with James for as long as you both said, I imagine you're fairly well acquainted with each other already."

He paused, looking to her for confirmation. Tightly folding her arms, Hild nodded. Lyall grinned and made a grand sweeping gesture toward her.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "You have that to your advantage. You two seem quite comfortable with each other's company anyhow, so going out together--" Stopping short, he glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "When is this happening?"

Hild bit her lip. "I believe we agreed once James is walking."

Lyall pursed his lips. "Like...walking? Or walking walking? If the former, just walking, you could very well 'go out' tonight, because he just started today. If the latter, which I would recommend by the way, then that could push you out to perhaps at least a week from now. And even then, maybe wait a little longer unless you fancy a stroll through the forest. You know, that could work, actually. And we could set up the kitchen for you two, we have candles that could help with mood-setting, and the kids won't barge in on you at any point, they're good. I would offer music for atmosphere, but we don't have much by way of distinctly romantic-sounding instruments, and you likely don't want anyone standing in the corner to sing you a song--"

Hild pressed her hands over her eyes. "I don't-- You don't have to plan it all out," she said, "I just-- I don't want to--"

She didn't want to ruin it.

This would be her very first date ever. Her first romantic relationship, with the first person she'd ever liked, and who liked her back.

Burning bridges was always so much easier. The past seven years was plenty evidence of that.

"Hey, you'll be okay," Lyall said softly. He rested a warm hand on her shoulder. "It won't be as hard as you think it will be."

Dropping her hands, Hild searched him for any signs of hesitation, or untruthfulness. He just offered a sincere smile.

"Just relax," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle shake, "talk the way you usually do, and enjoy your time together."

Nodding stiffly, Hild let out a quiet breath.

"That's it?" she asked quietly.

Lyall nodded. "That's it."

That didn't sound quite right. There had to be more that he was neglecting to mention. He sounded fairly genuine, though-- a rare occurance-- so she didn't press and decided to take what he gave her.

"I'm serious," he went on, "if you want anything decent as far as music goes, you're out of luck." His eyes lit up, which meant he'd just concocted something likely very disastrous. "Unless you're open to--"

Hild just gave him a flat look and said firmly, "We'll manage without."

He raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Alright, no more ideas from me. You are officially, from here on out, cut off from all this brilliance."

"Thank goodness," Hild said with a playful roll of her eyes.

"You good?" he asked, tone softening. He lingered at the edge of the shelter.

Folding her hands, Hild nodded. "Yes." Quieter, she added, "Thank you."

With his work here done, Lyall gave her a conclusive nod and sauntered out.

After a moment's silence, trying to recollect herself, Hild turned to Elliot.

"I'm not sure what I wanted to hear, but it certainly wasn't 'just relax'," she muttered. Stepping around to Elliot's side, she resumed brushing down his flank. Idly, Hild asked, "You wouldn't happen to have any advice, would you?"

She paused, assessing the horse's face as he turned his head toward her. He simply stared back. Hild sighed and gently said, "You'll see him again very soon."

It was nice to walk again. It didn't take long for him to start moving about the halls, exploring the few rooms of the underground shelter the mages called home. In a way, it really was just an underground house, for all the purposes it served. There was a kitchen, where everyone would crowd together around a large table to eat shared meals every day. There was also a storage room, but James did no more than glance in, seeing as it was pretty full, and he had no business in there. James however did spend some time in the common room, where there was a bookshelf with a variety of books to choose from. He'd read a few already that Cy had brought to him, but there were more on the higher shelves that he was now able to share in.

In the mornings, James was working with Mel, Caspar, and sometimes Lyall, to build up strength again. Fortunately, since the magic had aided his healing, he hadn't lost as much strength as he might've otherwise, but still, it was a chore. Of course, he preferred working to build strength again over not having that chance at all.

Lucky was an insufficient word for how he felt.

For a few days, Hild would visit during lunch, bringing food to him away from the crowd of the kitchen, and they would eat together. He enjoyed the quiet conversations they had over food while they had some moments alone together, and frankly wasn't quite ready for when Mel had him join everyone for their first breakfast. At least, his first real breakfast in a while.

It was a little overwhelming, being more formally introduced to all of the others, but thankfully, they seemed to be a good group of people.

He found himself sitting in the center of the table, with Caspar on one side and Hild on the other. Still, that didn't keep everyone from trying to grab his attention.

"So Lyall mentioned you're a wanted criminal," Jordan led in. The young man leaned forward on the table with folded arms, sitting diagonally across from James. He scooted in closer, pushing his sister Masil (who was visibly annoyed) to the side. "Are you a mage too?"

James had been trying to busy himself with his plate of food as a distraction and a nonverbal signal to keep others from talking to much, but it seemed that it wasn't working. Apparently a mouth full of food was just as much invitation to speak as an empty one.

There wasn't much he could do about that.

James swallowed down a bite of bread before answering.

"I don't have any magic, no," James said simply.

Jordan exchanged a look with Masil, like, perhaps, the answer to that question was something they'd discussed before. Jordan's expression seemed to say: 'I told you so.' Masil only pouted and looked off to the side.

"So if you're not wanted for magic reasons, what'd you do?" Jordan asked.

James looked down at his plate, poking lightly at a mix of sliced potatoes and vegetables.

"Tried to do something decent in defense of people like you," James said, keeping his answer plain and his delivery neutral as he took another bite and continued to talk through chews. "Didn't work out too well, though."

Jordan narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded.

"Ah. Okay," he said. "So like Caspar."

James flicked his eyes to Caspar. Caspar awkardly met his gaze as he quietly lifted a glass of water.

"Yeah," James said, not wanting to elaborate more. "Like Cas."

Jordan seemed like he had more questions, but was holding back as he leaned away from the table, like he was assesssing James. Then he lightly jabbed Masil with his elbow.

"What?" Masil squeaked beside him.

The two shared a silent exchange of pointed stares before Jordan finally relented and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to James.

"So is James your real name?" Jordan asked.

James gave him a flat look.

"Is Jordan yours?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jordan said like it was obvious.

"Likewise," James responded quickly.

"How long ago were you in the Isles?" Lyall butted in. "We didn't get to linger very much on the subject of your travels earlier, which we ought to amend immediately. Did you ever pass through Bastille? What'd you think of the Isles in general?" With a broad smile, he then nodded, giving him room to respond.

James left his food stacked on his fork while he paused to answer the questions.

"I passed through Bastille for a short time," James said slowly. "Though, admittedly, I didn't spend much time looking around. I'd just gone through Tempest to restock on some things, and Bastille was just on the way to the western ports. At the time, I wanted to get to the ocean."

He'd thought it would help him, maybe. A change of scenery. He'd hoped staring into the endless blue depths would fix something in his brain. It had been a stupid, desperate thought at the time, but left alone to his own devices, he didn't have much left. Didn't have any plans either. He'd simply stumbled into things like he always had.

"It was quite a sight," James said. "Seeing it for the first time."

"Masil and I grew up in Redwater," Jordan spoke up. "Did you ever leave the mainland?"

James wanted to look Caspar's way, but he found himself avoiding anyone's direct gaze.

"I did," James said. "I've been to most of the Wellworth Islands. Never very long--" which wasn't entirely true, but, "--but enough to see some of the sights."

"Were you just ship-hopping then?" Jordan asked, but then there was a glint in his eyes. "Or were you a stowaway?"

James forced a smile.

"Not a stowaway, thankfully," James said, again avoiding looking at either Caspar or Hild. "I... actually was on a ship's crew for a time. Nothing impressive, though. I was never skilled enough to be more than a swabbie. Though I suppose by the end of it I'd earned enough experience to be considered something of a sailor, but I would never use that term myself."

"What kind of boat was it?" Cy piped up, leaning forward to peek around Lyall.

Nibbling on a slice of bread, Lilya likewise peeked around her sister. "Was it big?"

James smiled again, though this one less forced.

"Yes. It was a very big ship. A galleon," James answered.

Lilya smiled brightly. "Wow!" She then looked to Caspar and asked, "Did you ever build anything that big, Cassie?"

Caught mid-bite, Caspar quickly swallowed and shook his head. "Ah, no. Nothing quite as grand."

James finally glanced at Caspar, noting the relaxed slope of his shoulders.

"Are you familiar with ships Lilya?" James asked, turning back to her.

Lilya shook her head emphatically. "I want to see some boats, but I pro'ly won't ever get to 'cause Papa's too scared of water."

Lyall looked affronted. "Not 'scared'," he said defensively, "just. A general distaste for it."

James looked to Lyall with a sympathetic half-smile and a shrug.

"Nothing wrong with either," James said sincerely.

The slight grin Lyall offered back was quiet, and there was a flash of appreciation in his eyes. "So how long ago was the Isles for you?" he asked.

James looked up as he drew his brows together in thought.

"I believe... roughly two years ago," James said. "Maybe a little more."

Lyall nodded. "What came after that?"

James kept his internal reaction from reaching his face, but he could feel his mind falter. Stumbling over the question.

"I took a break from sailing," he said simply. "Returned to the mainland. Traveled for a while."

"Ah, yes, life on the road. Thrilling business," Lyall drawled, turning his eyes to his plate as he poked his fork through several chunks of carrot. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Caspar. "Oh, Cas! Hild mentioned you running into Viktor not too long after the Isles. How was the kiddo?"

Caspar set down his water. He glanced up to the ceiling as he thought back. "He was rather chipper. Though the news about the house kind of dampened his spirits for a moment." He lifted his right hand, adding, "He helped with some patch-ups before we parted ways again," and let it drop to his lap.

Lyall grinned broadly. "Delightful. I would've guessed he'd be too swept up in the thrill of the chase to notice much of anything. Glad he still had his head on straight enough to help. I haven't heard from or even about him at all since."

Hild hummed and quietly added, "Same here. Though no news is sometimes better."

Standing abruptly on the bench, Lilya reached and scooped some more vegetables onto James's plate. "Carrots are good for your eyes," she declared.

James lifted his eyebrows, looking up to Lilya through his glasses.

"It's a little late for that advice," James said with a small smile. "But I will gladly eat more carrots."

Lilya dropped back down into her seat. "Maybe they'll help your eyes get better."

"I don't think it works like that," Cy whispered.

Lilya frowned a little. "Maybe it can."

James took a big bite of carrots, looking to Lilya with a shrug of his eyebrows.

"Guess I'll see," he said after swallowing. "Or won't. We'll find out."

Caspar huffed a laugh into his cup. Hild let out a quiet groan, and Lyall tilted his head as he looked curiously between James and Caspar.

Lilya nodded at Cy, looking pleased as she echoed, "We'll find out."

James only nodded as he returned to eating, and finally it seemed that the others at the table were going to let him do so without as much interruption. He finished his meal uneventfully, but it felt good to have a full stomach again.

The days continued to pass by peacefully. It was like a reprieve after a storm, but a storm only he, Caspar, and Hild had shared. Talking with the others at the hideout though, he dicovered that many of them were finding rest after their own storm as well.

There was a moment in the common room, where he'd just been reading quietly when Maisy and Elrick came in. At first, they apologized for interrupting, but conversation sparked and they got to talking. James was surprised at how open they both were, but there was something about it that was strangely refreshing, despite the difficulties they shared.

They'd both lived in hiding for years, he learned, in Lyn Springs, a modestly sized city right by the borders of the Moonlight Kingdom. They'd been married for years and worked a garden on the edges of the city, selling fruits and vegetables most of the year. Life only changed very recently for them when they let a close friend a little too close, and that person betrayed them, outing them to the authorities.

"I'd just had Leah," Maisy explained as she bounced the little baby on her leg. "Our neighbors had a daughter who came by to help out since Elrick had to pick up more with work, and she witnessed Elrick using some of his magic to till the ground of the garden. It was all an accident, and Elrick blamed himself for so long--"

Maisy shot Elrick a softened, tender look that they shared, just for a moment.

"--She assured us she would keep it a secret, but we think it must've slipped out," Maisy said. "We can't know for sure if it was on purpose or by mistake, but we had to leave quickly the day mage hunters came to our door. We were on the run for a few weeks before Mel and Lyall found us. And we were so relieved when they did. We were exhausted."

"With the baby alone we'd have been exhausted," Elrick said with a weary laugh. "Never thought we'd be raising a newborn in the wilderness. But we're glad to be here. It's made life a lot easier."

"Leah can still be difficult sometimes, but at least we don't have to be watching our backs while changing diapers," Maisy said with a little laugh as she lifted Leah up, sitting her on the table.

They'd both taken chairs across from James, and now Leah was seated so she was facing him. Now made aware of his existence now that she was no longer facing her mother, she stared at him blankly.

James offered her a smile and waved. Leah, of course, didn't really reply, but she did seem to have her sole focus locked on him.

"Hey there," James said, knowing she wouldn't be able to reply, but still speaking to her like a person anyway. "I guess we haven't met yet, officially. I'm James."

Maisy laughed a little at his introduction, but watched with a smile as Leah got down on her hands and knees and started crawling across the table towards him.

"It's good she's curious," Elrick commented. "Don't mind it so much when we're supervising, but she'll get into things if you're not looking."

"She did attempt to climb the bookshelf once," Maisy commented with a longsuffering sigh. "Didn't succeed of course, but gave me a heart attack in the process."

"Well, I won't let her stray too far, then," James said as Leah made her way to his side of the table. She grabbed at his sleeve, wadding the loose material into her fists. He offered her his hand to inspect and she grabbed his finger, wrapping all of her fingers around it.

"I'm sure it's been a while since you've been around kids," Elrick said. "If you've been traveling alone for a while, like it sounds."

"It has been a while," James commented quietly, keeping his attention on Leah. "It's refreshing, though."

He noticed Elrick and Maisy exchange a brief look.

"You're welcome to pick her up," Maisy said. "She's pretty good about that. I think she's past her fussy phase."

"We're hoping," Elrick added.

"I am speaking it into existence," Maisy said with a weak laugh.

James smiled, nodding slightly at the jokes as he gently scooped Leah up and pulled her into his arms. She seemed most comfortable in an upright position so he faced her towards her parents, with one hand supporting her bum and the other her side as her head rested back on his chest. He bounced her a little, and she started to vocalize, though of course, wasn't saying words.

He smiled down at her as she continued to babble with each little bounce, but didn't seem upset. She seemed entertained.

Eventually Leah broke into a smile, and James found his smile growing too.

"Do you have a lot of experience with kids?" Maisy asked.

"I helped take care of my little sister," James said, his voice soft, both to not disturb Leah's happy babbling, but also because - despite all this time - the memory was still tender. "Though that was many years ago."

"I got most of my experience with kids from being in a larger family," Elrick said. "I was the oldest of five. Felt like I was equipped to parent by the time I was a teenager with all that babysitting under my belt."

"Meanwhile, all of this is new to me," Maisy said with a little laugh. "But you know, sometimes in life you just have to learn as you go."

James nodded, watching as Leah started to blow bubbles with her own spit, drool dripping down onto his arm. He just laughed with a huff through his nose.

"Oh-- let me get that--" Maisy started to hurry to get out of her seat.

"It's fine," James said. "It's just drool."

"Are you sure?" Maisy asked.

"Yeah, it's alright."

From there the conversation turned to lighter things as Maisy and Elrick exchanged some humorous early parenting stories and eventually parted ways, leaving James with his book again.

About a week had passed when Mel finally cleared him to leave the bunker unattended, telling him that "the sun would do him some good" and "fresh air does wonders for healing."

While he did look forward to seeing the sun, he was mostly excited (and partially nervous) about two things: seeing Elliot, and being well enough to finally do something special with Hild.

The following morning after breakfast, he followed the others to the stairwell that let to the surface. Elrick moved a large stone to the side with his magic, and the bright morning light spilled over the steps, nearly blinding him. His eyes had gotten so used to the dim firelight in the bunker that it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

Standing at the entrance after the others had long since departed to their own duties and tasks, James was finally able to take in where they were.

It couldn't have been too far from where they ended up in their confrontation with Butch and Ivar. The forest still felt familiar, and it was starting to dawn on him just how lucky they had to have been to stumble past this safehouse. The fact that the mages decided to help them and take them in had everything to do with Lyall, Hild, and Caspar.

Of course, now he'd met Lyall and the other mages - and thankfully they didn't seem to have too much issue with him at the moment - but he did still feel a little... other.

And not just because he didn't have magic.

Pushing that feeling aside, he shook his head and took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs as he turned his attention to the shelter just ahead of him. Already, Elliot had spotted him once he'd stepped out, and he could see Elliot was getting excited as he stomped his hooves in the grass, dancing in place and bobbing his head.

James hurried to meet him, not quite pushing himself into a run, but going as fast as he could before throwing his arms around Elliot's neck in a firm embrace.

Elliot brought his head in close and James took in a deep breath. He'd missed the comforting smell of Elliot's mane, and the consistency of his presence, his companionship.

"I missed you, buddy," he whispered softly into Elliot's neck. "Don't worry. You haven't lost me yet."

Pulling away, he gently brushed Elliot's face with his fingers, letting Elliot happily nudge his nose into his side. It was better that he was healed, now - though he knew Elliot would've noticed if he was hurt. He somehow always knew when to be more gentle with him.

"Have they been taking good care of you?" James asked softly, knowing the conversation was one-sided, but still speaking anyway. "You look well."

He started looking Elliot over, brushing his fingers through Elliot's mane.

"I'm sure you've been enjoying the break, huh," he said, patting Elliot's side. "You deserve a good rest after all those long days of travel."

He came back around to Elliot's head, talking to him the whole way so Elliot knew where he was. When he stood beside Elliot's face again he leaned over and pecked Elliot on the side of his face.

"Thanks for hanging in there," James said softly. Elliot's ears flicked towards him attentively, and James simply scratched under Elliot's chin in response.

There came careful, measured steps behind him. With her hands folded and a faint smile playing at her lips, Hild stepped around to his side, standing an arm's length away. "Hopefully his current state of cleanliness is to your standards."

James turned to Hild with a small smile.

"Thank you for taking care of him with such excellence," he said. "I really appreciate it."

She hummed, and her smile broadened a little as she inclined her head. "It was my pleasure."

James felt his own smile grow alongside hers, and his gaze lingered on her face for a moment before his eyes dipped to the ground, and his stomach started to flutter, feeling uneasy.

"So I was thinking," he said. "Since I'm feeling quite a lot better now, I'd love to take you out tomorrow. I have some ideas, so long as you don't mind surprises. We could go after breakfast."

Hild tilted her chin up, glancing him over with a playfully suspicious squint of her eyes. "This is an acceptable proposition," she answered. Her voice was light, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

James met her eyes again, still smiling wide.

"I'm glad you think so, Ms. Ashlund," he said with a playful bow of his head.

Folding her hands behind her back now, Hild straightened. "I'm nearly finished with your coat, by the way," she said, taking on a more formal tone of voice. "My measurements are quite precise, but you should try it on before tomorrow, just to be sure."

"I'd love to," James said, abentmindedly petting through Elliot's mane with his fingers. "Have you already fed him this morning?"

Hild held out her hand to Elliot, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to approach. "Not yet."

Elliot seemed content with James's attention, but after a moment acknowledged Hild by nudging her hand with his nose.

"I could help you feed the horses and finish things out here," James offered. "And then we could go inside to try things on?"

Hild gave Elliot a quick pat on his nose before stepping away. She cast James a small smile over her shoulder as she answered simply, "I'd like that."

James smiled a little wider, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he simply nodded and got to work.

It was nice to walk again. It didn't take long for him to start moving about the halls, exploring the few rooms of the underground shelter the mages called home. In a way, it really was just an underground house, for all the purposes it served. There was a kitchen, where everyone would crowd together around a large table to eat shared meals every day. There was also a storage room, but James did no more than glance in, seeing as it was pretty full, and he had no business in there. James however did spend some time in the common room, where there was a bookshelf with a variety of books to choose from. He'd read a few already that Cy had brought to him, but there were more on the higher shelves that he was now able to share in.

In the mornings, James was working with Mel, Caspar, and sometimes Lyall, to build up strength again. Fortunately, since the magic had aided his healing, he hadn't lost as much strength as he might've otherwise, but still, it was a chore. Of course, he preferred working to build strength again over not having that chance at all.

Lucky was an insufficient word for how he felt.

For a few days, Hild would visit during lunch, bringing food to him away from the crowd of the kitchen, and they would eat together. He enjoyed the quiet conversations they had over food while they had some moments alone together, and frankly wasn't quite ready for when Mel had him join everyone for their first breakfast. At least, his first real breakfast in a while.

It was a little overwhelming, being more formally introduced to all of the others, but thankfully, they seemed to be a good group of people.

He found himself sitting in the center of the table, with Caspar on one side and Hild on the other. Still, that didn't keep everyone from trying to grab his attention.

"So Lyall mentioned you're a wanted criminal," Jordan led in. The young man leaned forward on the table with folded arms, sitting diagonally across from James. He scooted in closer, pushing his sister Masil (who was visibly annoyed) to the side. "Are you a mage too?"

James had been trying to busy himself with his plate of food as a distraction and a nonverbal signal to keep others from talking to much, but it seemed that it wasn't working. Apparently a mouth full of food was just as much invitation to speak as an empty one.

There wasn't much he could do about that.

James swallowed down a bite of bread before answering.

"I don't have any magic, no," James said simply.

Jordan exchanged a look with Masil, like, perhaps, the answer to that question was something they'd discussed before. Jordan's expression seemed to say: 'I told you so.' Masil only pouted and looked off to the side.

"So if you're not wanted for magic reasons, what'd you do?" Jordan asked.

James looked down at his plate, poking lightly at a mix of sliced potatoes and vegetables.

"Tried to do something decent in defense of people like you," James said, keeping his answer plain and his delivery neutral as he took another bite and continued to talk through chews. "Didn't work out too well, though."

Jordan narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded.

"Ah. Okay," he said. "So like Caspar."

James flicked his eyes to Caspar. Caspar awkardly met his gaze as he quietly lifted a glass of water.

"Yeah," James said, not wanting to elaborate more. "Like Cas."

Jordan seemed like he had more questions, but was holding back as he leaned away from the table, like he was assesssing James. Then he lightly jabbed Masil with his elbow.

"What?" Masil squeaked beside him.

The two shared a silent exchange of pointed stares before Jordan finally relented and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to James.

"So is James your real name?" Jordan asked.

James gave him a flat look.

"Is Jordan yours?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jordan said like it was obvious.

"Likewise," James responded quickly.

"How long ago were you in the Isles?" Lyall butted in. "We didn't get to linger very much on the subject of your travels earlier, which we ought to amend immediately. Did you ever pass through Bastille? What'd you think of the Isles in general?" With a broad smile, he then nodded, giving him room to respond.

James left his food stacked on his fork while he paused to answer the questions.

"I passed through Bastille for a short time," James said slowly. "Though, admittedly, I didn't spend much time looking around. I'd just gone through Tempest to restock on some things, and Bastille was just on the way to the western ports. At the time, I wanted to get to the ocean."

He'd thought it would help him, maybe. A change of scenery. He'd hoped staring into the endless blue depths would fix something in his brain. It had been a stupid, desperate thought at the time, but left alone to his own devices, he didn't have much left. Didn't have any plans either. He'd simply stumbled into things like he always had.

"It was quite a sight," James said. "Seeing it for the first time."

"Masil and I grew up in Redwater," Jordan spoke up. "Did you ever leave the mainland?"

James wanted to look Caspar's way, but he found himself avoiding anyone's direct gaze.

"I did," James said. "I've been to most of the Wellworth Islands. Never very long--" which wasn't entirely true, but, "--but enough to see some of the sights."

"Were you just ship-hopping then?" Jordan asked, but then there was a glint in his eyes. "Or were you a stowaway?"

James forced a smile.

"Not a stowaway, thankfully," James said, again avoiding looking at either Caspar or Hild. "I... actually was on a ship's crew for a time. Nothing impressive, though. I was never skilled enough to be more than a swabbie. Though I suppose by the end of it I'd earned enough experience to be considered something of a sailor, but I would never use that term myself."

"What kind of boat was it?" Cy piped up, leaning forward to peek around Lyall.

Nibbling on a slice of bread, Lilya likewise peeked around her sister. "Was it big?"

James smiled again, though this one less forced.

"Yes. It was a very big ship. A galleon," James answered.

Lilya smiled brightly. "Wow!" She then looked to Caspar and asked, "Did you ever build anything that big, Cassie?"

Caught mid-bite, Caspar quickly swallowed and shook his head. "Ah, no. Nothing quite as grand."

James finally glanced at Caspar, noting the relaxed slope of his shoulders.

"Are you familiar with ships Lilya?" James asked, turning back to her.

Lilya shook her head emphatically. "I want to see some boats, but I pro'ly won't ever get to 'cause Papa's too scared of water."

Lyall looked affronted. "Not 'scared'," he said defensively, "just. A general distaste for it."

James looked to Lyall with a sympathetic half-smile and a shrug.

"Nothing wrong with either," James said sincerely.

The slight grin Lyall offered back was quiet, and there was a flash of appreciation in his eyes. "So how long ago was the Isles for you?" he asked.

James looked up as he drew his brows together in thought.

"I believe... roughly two years ago," James said. "Maybe a little more."

Lyall nodded. "What came after that?"

James kept his internal reaction from reaching his face, but he could feel his mind falter. Stumbling over the question.

"I took a break from sailing," he said simply. "Returned to the mainland. Traveled for a while."

"Ah, yes, life on the road. Thrilling business," Lyall drawled, turning his eyes to his plate as he poked his fork through several chunks of carrot. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Caspar. "Oh, Cas! Hild mentioned you running into Viktor not too long after the Isles. How was the kiddo?"

Caspar set down his water. He glanced up to the ceiling as he thought back. "He was rather chipper. Though the news about the house kind of dampened his spirits for a moment." He lifted his right hand, adding, "He helped with some patch-ups before we parted ways again," and let it drop to his lap.

Lyall grinned broadly. "Delightful. I would've guessed he'd be too swept up in the thrill of the chase to notice much of anything. Glad he still had his head on straight enough to help. I haven't heard from or even about him at all since."

Hild hummed and quietly added, "Same here. Though no news is sometimes better."

Standing abruptly on the bench, Lilya reached and scooped some more vegetables onto James's plate. "Carrots are good for your eyes," she declared.

James lifted his eyebrows, looking up to Lilya through his glasses.

"It's a little late for that advice," James said with a small smile. "But I will gladly eat more carrots."

Lilya dropped back down into her seat. "Maybe they'll help your eyes get better."

"I don't think it works like that," Cy whispered.

Lilya frowned a little. "Maybe it can."

James took a big bite of carrots, looking to Lilya with a shrug of his eyebrows.

"Guess I'll see," he said after swallowing. "Or won't. We'll find out."

Caspar huffed a laugh into his cup. Hild let out a quiet groan, and Lyall tilted his head as he looked curiously between James and Caspar.

Lilya nodded at Cy, looking pleased as she echoed, "We'll find out."

James only nodded as he returned to eating, and finally it seemed that the others at the table were going to let him do so without as much interruption. He finished his meal uneventfully, but it felt good to have a full stomach again.

The days continued to pass by peacefully. It was like a reprieve after a storm, but a storm only he, Caspar, and Hild had shared. Talking with the others at the hideout though, he dicovered that many of them were finding rest after their own storm as well.

There was a moment in the common room, where he'd just been reading quietly when Maisy and Elrick came in. At first, they apologized for interrupting, but conversation sparked and they got to talking. James was surprised at how open they both were, but there was something about it that was strangely refreshing, despite the difficulties they shared.

They'd both lived in hiding for years, he learned, in Lyn Springs, a modestly sized city right by the borders of the Moonlight Kingdom. They'd been married for years and worked a garden on the edges of the city, selling fruits and vegetables most of the year. Life only changed very recently for them when they let a close friend a little too close, and that person betrayed them, outing them to the authorities.

"I'd just had Leah," Maisy explained as she bounced the little baby on her leg. "Our neighbors had a daughter who came by to help out since Elrick had to pick up more with work, and she witnessed Elrick using some of his magic to till the ground of the garden. It was all an accident, and Elrick blamed himself for so long--"

Maisy shot Elrick a softened, tender look that they shared, just for a moment.

"--She assured us she would keep it a secret, but we think it must've slipped out," Maisy said. "We can't know for sure if it was on purpose or by mistake, but we had to leave quickly the day mage hunters came to our door. We were on the run for a few weeks before Mel and Lyall found us. And we were so relieved when they did. We were exhausted."

"With the baby alone we'd have been exhausted," Elrick said with a weary laugh. "Never thought we'd be raising a newborn in the wilderness. But we're glad to be here. It's made life a lot easier."

"Leah can still be difficult sometimes, but at least we don't have to be watching our backs while changing diapers," Maisy said with a little laugh as she lifted Leah up, sitting her on the table.

They'd both taken chairs across from James, and now Leah was seated so she was facing him. Now made aware of his existence now that she was no longer facing her mother, she stared at him blankly.

James offered her a smile and waved. Leah, of course, didn't really reply, but she did seem to have her sole focus locked on him.

"Hey there," James said, knowing she wouldn't be able to reply, but still speaking to her like a person anyway. "I guess we haven't met yet, officially. I'm James."

Maisy laughed a little at his introduction, but watched with a smile as Leah got down on her hands and knees and started crawling across the table towards him.

"It's good she's curious," Elrick commented. "Don't mind it so much when we're supervising, but she'll get into things if you're not looking."

"She did attempt to climb the bookshelf once," Maisy commented with a longsuffering sigh. "Didn't succeed of course, but gave me a heart attack in the process."

"Well, I won't let her stray too far, then," James said as Leah made her way to his side of the table. She grabbed at his sleeve, wadding the loose material into her fists. He offered her his hand to inspect and she grabbed his finger, wrapping all of her fingers around it.

"I'm sure it's been a while since you've been around kids," Elrick said. "If you've been traveling alone for a while, like it sounds."

"It has been a while," James commented quietly, keeping his attention on Leah. "It's refreshing, though."

He noticed Elrick and Maisy exchange a brief look.

"You're welcome to pick her up," Maisy said. "She's pretty good about that. I think she's past her fussy phase."

"We're hoping," Elrick added.

"I am speaking it into existence," Maisy said with a weak laugh.

James smiled, nodding slightly at the jokes as he gently scooped Leah up and pulled her into his arms. She seemed most comfortable in an upright position so he faced her towards her parents, with one hand supporting her bum and the other her side as her head rested back on his chest. He bounced her a little, and she started to vocalize, though of course, wasn't saying words.

He smiled down at her as she continued to babble with each little bounce, but didn't seem upset. She seemed entertained.

Eventually Leah broke into a smile, and James found his smile growing too.

"Do you have a lot of experience with kids?" Maisy asked.

"I helped take care of my little sister," James said, his voice soft, both to not disturb Leah's happy babbling, but also because - despite all this time - the memory was still tender. "Though that was many years ago."

"I got most of my experience with kids from being in a larger family," Elrick said. "I was the oldest of five. Felt like I was equipped to parent by the time I was a teenager with all that babysitting under my belt."

"Meanwhile, all of this is new to me," Maisy said with a little laugh. "But you know, sometimes in life you just have to learn as you go."

James nodded, watching as Leah started to blow bubbles with her own spit, drool dripping down onto his arm. He just laughed with a huff through his nose.

"Oh-- let me get that--" Maisy started to hurry to get out of her seat.

"It's fine," James said. "It's just drool."

"Are you sure?" Maisy asked.

"Yeah, it's alright."

From there the conversation turned to lighter things as Maisy and Elrick exchanged some humorous early parenting stories and eventually parted ways, leaving James with his book again.

About a week had passed when Mel finally cleared him to leave the bunker unattended, telling him that "the sun would do him some good" and "fresh air does wonders for healing."

While he did look forward to seeing the sun, he was mostly excited (and partially nervous) about two things: seeing Elliot, and being well enough to finally do something special with Hild.

The following morning after breakfast, he followed the others to the stairwell that let to the surface. Elrick moved a large stone to the side with his magic, and the bright morning light spilled over the steps, nearly blinding him. His eyes had gotten so used to the dim firelight in the bunker that it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

Standing at the entrance after the others had long since departed to their own duties and tasks, James was finally able to take in where they were.

It couldn't have been too far from where they ended up in their confrontation with Butch and Ivar. The forest still felt familiar, and it was starting to dawn on him just how lucky they had to have been to stumble past this safehouse. The fact that the mages decided to help them and take them in had everything to do with Lyall, Hild, and Caspar.

Of course, now he'd met Lyall and the other mages - and thankfully they didn't seem to have too much issue with him at the moment - but he did still feel a little... other.

And not just because he didn't have magic.

Pushing that feeling aside, he shook his head and took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs as he turned his attention to the shelter just ahead of him. Already, Elliot had spotted him once he'd stepped out, and he could see Elliot was getting excited as he stomped his hooves in the grass, dancing in place and bobbing his head.

James hurried to meet him, not quite pushing himself into a run, but going as fast as he could before throwing his arms around Elliot's neck in a firm embrace.

Elliot brought his head in close and James took in a deep breath. He'd missed the comforting smell of Elliot's mane, and the consistency of his presence, his companionship.

"I missed you, buddy," he whispered softly into Elliot's neck. "Don't worry. You haven't lost me yet."

Pulling away, he gently brushed Elliot's face with his fingers, letting Elliot happily nudge his nose into his side. It was better that he was healed, now - though he knew Elliot would've noticed if he was hurt. He somehow always knew when to be more gentle with him.

"Have they been taking good care of you?" James asked softly, knowing the conversation was one-sided, but still speaking anyway. "You look well."

He started looking Elliot over, brushing his fingers through Elliot's mane.

"I'm sure you've been enjoying the break, huh," he said, patting Elliot's side. "You deserve a good rest after all those long days of travel."

He came back around to Elliot's head, talking to him the whole way so Elliot knew where he was. When he stood beside Elliot's face again he leaned over and pecked Elliot on the side of his face.

"Thanks for hanging in there," James said softly. Elliot's ears flicked towards him attentively, and James simply scratched under Elliot's chin in response.

There came careful, measured steps behind him. With her hands folded and a faint smile playing at her lips, Hild stepped around to his side, standing an arm's length away. "Hopefully his current state of cleanliness is to your standards."

James turned to Hild with a small smile.

"Thank you for taking care of him with such excellence," he said. "I really appreciate it."

She hummed, and her smile broadened a little as she inclined her head. "It was my pleasure."

James felt his own smile grow alongside hers, and his gaze lingered on her face for a moment before his eyes dipped to the ground, and his stomach started to flutter, feeling uneasy.

"So I was thinking," he said. "Since I'm feeling quite a lot better now, I'd love to take you out tomorrow. I have some ideas, so long as you don't mind surprises. We could go after breakfast."

Hild tilted her chin up, glancing him over with a playfully suspicious squint of her eyes. "This is an acceptable proposition," she answered. Her voice was light, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

James met her eyes again, still smiling wide.

"I'm glad you think so, Ms. Ashlund," he said with a playful bow of his head.

Folding her hands behind her back now, Hild straightened. "I'm nearly finished with your coat, by the way," she said, taking on a more formal tone of voice. "My measurements are quite precise, but you should try it on before tomorrow, just to be sure."

"I'd love to," James said, abentmindedly petting through Elliot's mane with his fingers. "Have you already fed him this morning?"

Hild held out her hand to Elliot, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to approach. "Not yet."

Elliot seemed content with James's attention, but after a moment acknowledged Hild by nudging her hand with his nose.

"I could help you feed the horses and finish things out here," James offered. "And then we could go inside to try things on?"

Hild gave Elliot a quick pat on his nose before stepping away. She cast James a small smile over her shoulder as she answered simply, "I'd like that."

James smiled a little wider, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he simply nodded and got to work.