Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One week. One entire, miserable week that Naoya had been gone, though it seemed like much longer. Time had stood still for the remainder of their group, and the large questions facing them had remained unanswered in the aftermath of the teen's disappearance. But time was nothing if not an urgent and unrelentless guide: they could not stay here forever. They could not do nothing.

"We can't leave him," Remus had said low, hushed tones that barely made it over the candle set in the center of the table between him and the mage.

"I'm not suggesting we leave him," Anders would hiss back. Without Naoya, he and Remus had been arguing a lot more than was good for them. The uncertainty facing them, the long hours of endless searching-it was taking a toll, and the loss of one of their own penetrated deeper into their hearts than any tortures of Lord Reaver. "You know as well as I do, though, that he could be farther out than the half-day's walk."

Like a barrier, their exhaustive search for the boy had been limited to a half-day's march. Half a day out, half a day back. They couldn't leave Mabel alone in these treacherous woods, but they couldn't ask her to risk her safety in wilds again when they weren't truly certain if they could protect her. They were both able, and powerful in their own right. But these woods were unlike anything either of them had ever known before, and the risks were uncertain—and so uncertainty stayed their hands. More than that, food and shelter were had to come by. The bags of dried rice were tasteless, but they were sufficient calories for the time being. But even that would run out, someday. For the time being, they were tied to their stolen resources in an umbilical sort of way: they would die if they left. They were trapped here, as much as they were saved. And so the dialogue continued endlessly.

"We could assume it was the Firestarters who took him."

"He would likely have come back by now. A week, and still no sign of him?"

"Not if he were their captive. Or if he's been harmed..."

Such conversations had become the norm in hushed tones and in sideways glances. It was all rather suffocating, and in the silence of the night Remus and Anders had come to a grim, ultimate conclusion: if they did not find any sign of Naoya after today, they had only one choice left to them. Whoever it was that took Naoya, the fact remained that the Firestarters were their only long-term hope out here in the wilderness. And whether they had a safe place to call home here, the fact remained that this place was not their home. Tomorrow morning would be their last search, and if they were not successful then there was only one last thing to do to ensure they got out of this. The magi had already decided which part of the forest to burn.

Dinner was relatively silent, if such a gathering could be called 'dinner' when it felt so compressing to the heart. Neither Remus nor Anders spoke much. Their muddied shoes lay discarded by the door and Anders' staff lay tossed across the entry rug caked with earth from another long day's search. There was a fire going under the mantle in the living area, and the smell of smoke was faintly comforting even as the dust from soot had already left a visible tint on the stained glass windows. The moonlight coming in from behind them was slightly obscured, drawing Anders' attention for some moments as he marveled at how quickly it built up. But there was a pervading silence as he and Remus sat uncomfortably on the couch, Mabel having long retreated to the bath to untangle the twigs from her hair. They had another moment to breathe when nights came, another moment to think too much about their lack of progress. But that did not mean they were at ease.

"You look stressed," Anders noted quietly. "Moreso than usual," he added with a small smile. "Something specific on your mind?"

Remus looked at him, and then back to his lap. His Adam's apple gave a tremor as he pushed something tacky down his throat. "I find myself thinking about what happens if... if we don't find Naoya. Specifically, what happens to him. I keep repeating the events over and over in my mind, wondering."

There was a short pause, in which Anders thought he could hear wind howling outside. The fire gave a small tremor. Remus looked exhausted in the flickering light.

"Anders," he said, "we need to find him."

"We will," Anders assured. "We waited here as long as we could, and if nothing comes of it tomorrow, the Firestarters could help us. They know this area better than we do. But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. There's something more, isn't there?"

Remus put his face in his hands before sending them up and through his hair with a weighty sigh. His jaw clicked as he sent his tongue across his teeth searching for words. "Yes. We can not be sure what kind of contamination his wound will show. It may be nothing, like he says, but I can not take that risk. We cannot take that risk."

Anders nodded. "You still worry he's been infected."

"Undoubtedly he has been, to some degree. His scar will never heal completely for that reason, but he insists that it was not a bite. Whether that's true is unimportant—the damage is done. He hadn't shown any signs of illness before he disappeared. It was so many years ago, but when I was bitten I was sick for the entire month before my first transformation. I was so small, though..."

Anders leaned forward, making a motion to reach out but thinking better of it. "How old were you?"

"Four."

Anders must have gone pale, because Remus shrugged. "As I said, it was many years ago. I barely remember it now."

"I can't imagine that," Anders said, shaking his head. "I can't imagine going through that. How a parent must feel after an accident-"

"It was no accident," Remus replied, but he put his hand up when Anders' brows dipped sharply with anger. "It was not their fault. My parents did everything they could for me, but there is no cure. They gave me the best childhood that they could under the circumstances. It wasn't their fault."

"Then who?" Anders asked, his tone incredulous.

"Someone my father had offended," Remus shrugged again. Anders wanted to shake him. "I found out much later that he had forced open the window while I was asleep. It isn't much of a story. In any case, we have to find Naoya before the end of the month.  Even if we go to the Firestarters and they are not what we fear, we cannot stop looking. You understand?"

Anders nodded, though the truth of the matter was that he did not. The gravity of the situation was dire, and that was something he could understand. But what it must feel like to carry such a weight—that was something lost on him, though part of him wished that was not so. It wasn't as if magic was an infection, though he was considered disgusting for it nonetheless. And his link with Justice was a choice, to save his friend. Anders could understand the need for support, however, and he would try to understand this even if he never could. He owed his friend that much.

"Would you mind if I asked you something?" he asked slowly after some time. He felt himself stepping on pressure plates in his mind, and decided to tread carefully.

"Of course," Remus replied, his cheek pressed into his knuckles as he rested against the couch arm and watched the embers. "What is it?"

"I... well, I hope you'll forgive me for asking, but I was wondering about your", he hesitated, "...illness. We haven't spoken about it since that morning; there hasn't exactly been a chance. But since it was mentioned, I thought..."

Remus' eyes settled in his lap and his shoulders set in a serious slump against the back of the chair. He folded his hands together, stiffening visibly.. "Go on," he said, looking at Anders once again.

Anders hesitated. He felt probing at the least, and rudely insensitive at worst. But Remus was so different from everything he had ever known about werewolves. He had never seen one himself, though back in his Warden days Anders had had a revealing discussion with the Warden-Commander about her harrowing experience with an entire pack. Much like he had just now, he had begun the conversation with several cautious questions. The long period of silence was to be expected then, as it was now.

They were men, she told him. Mere people, lost—and it was best to remember that.

Since escaping Reaver's mansion, Anders had been replaying the conversation over and over again in his mind. But until now, he hadn't had the chance to truly study it mentally. And Remus had been more than content to let the topic go undiscussed, for obvious reasons. But Anders thought something more was needed when the thoughts did not cease; some kind of closure was necessary to truly put everything behind them. This was going to be a recurring event in their lives now, just as it was for Remus. He hoped the privacy and the state of their friendship would be enough to at least discuss something small. But Anders wondered nonetheless: though it was natural to be curious, where was the line?

Mentally, Anders pulled up archive after archive—everything he had ever heard or studied about lycanthropes. In Thedas, werewolves are the product of demonic possession. A rage demon possessing a wolf, causing a monstrous evolution that turned the animal into a wretched creature which then infected others with an unnatural, savage curse. They were not bound by the phases of the moon, but doomed constantly to their wolf-like state. They did not even resemble Remus: they were more humanoid, and could sometimes use weapons. But they existed in a constant state of suffering, and their ferocity was beyond feral. Those few who retained any shred of humanity lived in constant warfare within themselves.

This was not who Remus was.

Anders told himself it was purely for medical reasons that he was pushed to inquire for more, but eventually he was forced to admit to himself that there was something personal in it as well. Not pure curiosity, but a need for... something. Something deeper, tugging at him in the uncertainty that was his core. Empathy, perhaps? Sympathy? Remus was his friend. A damn good friend at that, which was surprising after just a few weeks of even knowing one another. And in that time Anders had thought little of the scars on Remus' face and arms, but now their source was self-evident. Remus had refused any healing Anders offered, and though he was much better now than he had been just days ago Anders could still see hints of that exhaustion and pain in Remus' movements and in his eyes. Regardless of how much he had healed since the last full moon, another one would always follow. It was a fact of life now, and Anders wasn't exactly a sucker for suffering.

"Stop me if it becomes too much," he began. "But I feel like, as a doctor, I should—no," he stopped. "As both a doctor and your friend, I want to know more. I want to help, if I can. Or, at least to understand. That's all," he finished, as though that would alleviate half the tension they both felt.

"There isn't much to understand, really," Remus replied with an offhanded shrug. "It is something that I've dealt with my entire life, and the responsibility is mine."

"I wouldn't assume differently," Anders said, and he wondered if perhaps that sounded colder than it was meant. He cleared his throat to pause and search for more fitting words. "What I mean to say is, you do have that responsibility, but this situation we find ourselves in—it changed the rules. For better or worse, we three appear stuck together for some purpose and this affects what we do from now on. I don't want to talk about this because I am afraid—I don't know your illness, Remus, but I know you, and I believe that-"

Anders made a frustrated noise deep in his throat, and he broke eye contact with a burning in his ears. Remus made no outward show of discomfort, waiting patiently for Anders to find his words again.

"Alright, look: I may not have worked on a werewolf before," the mage said finally, "but you needn't suffer if there is something to be done. My magic may be different than yours. It may help. Where I come from, there are werewolves. But they are much different than you. It is still a sickness, but it comes from the Fade—the realm Justice is from, you recall? There is nothing of the Fade in you. Whatever your affliction is, it's not spiritual or demonic. There may be things we could try that might help. And I want to help."

The silence that followed was awkward and drawn out. Anders wanted to cringe, to do something other than sit motionless. But he could tell through posture that Remus was considering his words. He needed to be patient.

"You remind me a lot of my friends," Remus said finally.

 “I remind you of your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Remus nodded. His eyes became glossy as he thought back many years. “They used to get into all kinds of trouble, and I went right along with it.”

“You?” Anders' lips curled into a smile. “I didn’t take you for the mischievous type.”

“Oh, yes. Not so much anymore, or at least not for a long, long time. But I was a major part of the antics of my youth. We did so much after hours exploration of our school that we created an enchanted map to suit our purposes. Though they were cleverer than I was, sometimes… They figured out what I was on their own. 12 year old boys, no less. Perhaps I was not the tactful liar I thought I was.”

“What happened?”

“It was our second year. In the short time I knew them, I had already been through five dead grandparents, four funerals extended family, one mother in St. Mungos-all for reasons too, ah, 'personal' to describe to non-family... I was not normally supposed to be at the school, you see. I had grown up knowing I would never attend. A werewolf, with other children? Unsupervised, let loose? Despite the fact that I would only be transformed one night a month, the thought was understandably chilling to parents. But the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, made arrangements for me to attend. He said that as long as certain precautions were taken, there was no reason for me not to study magic like a normal child."

There was another short pause while Remus pondered how to continue. "My secret could never be revealed, because it would endanger not only the future of my education but potentially myself. When, for the first time in my life, I had three great friends, they were naturally very concerned when I came back looking as I do after full moon. It was a struggle to find a reason for my disappearances each month. Eventually, they cornered me. They told me that they knew what I was, and that they didn't care. Before them, I had nothing. I had no one. My family was constantly on the move in order to keep my secret, and I grew up isolated and very lonely. They were the first friends I ever had. They were…”

There was an extended silence, though when it was over Remus was no closer to an answer. How could he describe Peter and James, and Lily; describe everything they were?

“Where are they now?”

Remus expected the question, but his chest tightened nonetheless. Four years later, the would was still too deep. Memories of what he did to survive and sometimes just to forget were rising to the surface with their faces. “They… died.”

Anders said nothing. He didn’t need any further explanation. “I haven’t had many friends, myself,” he said. “Growing up in the Circle, you had to be careful who you trusted. You grew up expecting that people would vanish in the night and hope you weren’t next. I met someone there who became very important to me. The Templars took him from me, and I… Well, let’s just say that by the time I found him, he couldn’t be saved.”

"What was his name?”

“Karl,” Anders replied. The word still tingled like cinnamon on his lips.

“I am sorry,” Remus said.

“I'm sorry for your losses, too,” Anders nodded. “But the past is the past, no? We are here now, and I think we'll make the most of it.”

"Indeed," Remus replied with a pleasant, crooked smile. But it faded in a brief moment. "You are very kind to worry about this, Anders, but you don't need to."

"No, I don't. You're more than experienced, and you are more than capable. But you don't have to do it alone. Even if I do nothing for you, I would like to at least try to understand. It is something we will be dealing with as a group when the occasion calls for it."

"What is there to understand? Once per month I become a monster, and then I recover. As long as I have a place to do all of that when the time comes, there is nothing else to worry about."

"Is that why you weren't sleeping well before, when I found you outside that morning after the balverine attack?"

Remus nodded. "Naturally, with disease, there are symptoms that come and go. It would be self-evident to say that during the new moon phase, I feel at my best. Afterwards, the symptoms begin to re-manifest."

"Like what?"

Remus shifted in his seat and gave Anders a strange look as if to say, 'I see you directing the conversation, but I'll bite.' He tucked his left leg over his right knee, holding onto his shin with both hands while his jaw moved side to side with contemplation. "Like nausea, for one. A lot of nausea, before and after transforming. It is brutal on the body, and that's to be expected. But there are subtle things that can manifest sometimes and not others. There are occasions where I can almost predict how 'bad' this next full moon will be depending on the things I notice happening."

Anders sat waiting expectantly, and Remus sighed. Were it anyone else...

"Sensitivity to sounds or smells sometimes," he finally finished, hoping that was enough. He was in no mood to explain every individual nuance of lycanthropy. "The taste for raw meats never goes away. There are always certain 'wolfish' characteristics that are permanent, no matter the phase of the moon. There are many symptoms. Is it so important for you to know?"

Anders sat straight up, his ears flaming red. He felt the warmth spreading to his face and he pushed a breath through his nose to force the anxiety down into his stomach instead. "No," he said. "I suppose that's rude of me. I apologize."

Remus sighed. "No, it—it's alright, Anders. I just don't much care to talk about it. My kind are not regarded well, as I have said."

"Your kind?" Anders frowned. "You make it sound like you're not human."

"Not technically," Remus responded bitterly. "The Ministry can't even decide if we're Beasts or Beings."

Anders leaned forward once again, looking gravely serious. "Remus, you're still a human. You're still a person. You are one of the best I have ever known, in fact. Based on what you have just told me, this is just something that happens to you. It isn't something that defines you."

"There you go, just like them," Remus said, a half-smile twisting his lips. "They used to call it my furry little problem," he added with a laugh.

"That must have been quite the conversation starter."

"Many people were purposely given the impression that I owned a very grumpy cat," Remus replied. "Or a very misbehaved rabbit."

"That's unfortunate. Cats are gifts. I would leave milk out for them every night if I had the opportunity." But Anders felt his grin fall flat. "I'm sorry," he said. "Both for the fact that you must go through this, and for my prying. I suppose I am just curious, and it is not my place to be so involved in another's business."

Remus waved him away. "My friends were the same way for a while after confirming their theory. It does feel like being placed under a lens from time to time, but.... you're my friend, Anders. I expect you to want to know these things about me, and I don't want you to feel like you can't ask, because you're right: it does affect you now. And there are times when I can't always heal myself as well as I would like. It would be nice not to feel like I was attacked by a-well, a werewolf, every month. I admit that I find myself rather curious about your healing spells. You'll know more about it as needed, but please: let me come to you. I will."

Remus offered a light, pleasant smile when he finished speaking that Anders hesitated to return. "I want you to know that I don't care about this," he said. "About what you are. I don't think for a second that Naoya does, either. You mentioned that people in your homeworld regard you with suspicion and hate-and I want you to know that I will not, and do not. I don't think less of you, and that I'm not afraid to try and do what I can. This doesn't come from a place of pity, but a place of warmth: from a friend, to a friend."

Remus blinked, glancing down at his shoes. "You-," he started to say, but the words were lost in a small, choked laugh of contentment. Emotions danced across the wizard's face in flashes of lightning, and his gaze was full when he looked up. "I know. Thank you," he said. "That means more than you know."

By the next morning, the mood had changed considerably.

"Okay, okay," Mabel panted, descending the spiral staircase to the upper floor in a mess as she tugged her sweater over her head. "I'm ready!"

She ran her fingers through her still-damp hair one more time to fluff it before coming to rest at the door, bouncing on her heels. She had yet to complain about the many miles they had walked each day in search for any sign of Naoya. Her optimism was almost contagious. Almost.

"Wouldn't you rather bathe after we come home?" Remus asked, himself preparing mentally for the dirt and grit that would pepper their clothes by the end of the day. His clothing from Alastor had already begun to resemble the patched and dingy ones that had been lost in the dungeons with the amount of work they had put into the search, and Remus had already repaired three separate tears from the thorns in just the last day.

"I can do it again later," Mabel said, readjusting her headband to fit more snugly behind her ears. "You magic guys can heat the water up so fast—and besides, it helps wake me up a little, y'know?"

Anders nodded, thinking back to the community tubs in the Circle. It was easiest to bathe in the middle of the night or in the early morning when nobody was around. It was the closest thing he could get to privacy in his vulnerable moments, though he could play someone stumbling in as a pleasant, flirtatious surprise to make them uncomfortable enough to leave him be, even while he grumbled about it later. At least that was one of the nice things about this windmill: it was obviously made for a couple, and the wooden bath upstairs was tucked away in the bedroom behind a divider. When each of them stayed downstairs to allow for privacy, you bathed privately--very much alone. There were small things here and there for a man and a woman, which Anders knew a teen girl would find indispensably useful. And the men did as well: there was even a rudimentary shaving kit, and Anders patted his bare chin absentmindedly at the thought.

"You're all set to go, then?" he asked. "Have you got your pack?"

"Oh!" Mabel turned, her hair flinging behind her as she glanced this way and that. Hung up by the door, a tiny pink and purple satchel the mage and wizard had worked together to create from a section of curtains was strung up by a single strap. On tip-toe, Mabel reached for it and slid it over a shoulder, smiling broadly. "Ready! Let's go, I have a good feeling about today!"

She rushed outside, oblivious to the silence exchanged by the other two in her absence. She had said that every day they had searched so far. How they wished for a psychic to validate her prediction.

Stepping out into the morning sun, Remus blinked. He squinted through the haze, taking in the sight of the forest once again. It was beginning to feel all too familiar, almost like—home. It was not something he wanted to think about—the idea that this world might become his permanent residence. But at least the weather was warmer here than in snowy London. They had no idea what the date was here to gauge exact seasons, though the plaid coat Remus had been so pleased to keep after the encounter with Reaver now lay abandoned across the back of the couch. Though if he had to guess, in his own timeline today's date would be...

"Ah," Remus said aloud, and the others turned to him. "S'nothing," he shrugged, mildly embarrassed. "I just realized my birthday has come and gone. Last week. So much has been going on that I didn't realize. Not that it means anything, mind you, but I was trying to think of the date, and I was reminded."

"Not important?" Mabel gawked. "You only get one every year! How could it not be important?"

"I agree," Anders said thoughtfully. "I haven't celebrated my own birthday in so many years—but I still like to treat myself, if I can," he added, catching the look from Mabel that only made him laugh. "It was summer when I fell through to this world, though. And by the relaxed temperature, I'd say summer has yet to come here. By chance, how old did you turn?"

"Twenty five," Remus replied. It felt so odd that basic information like that was still obscured after everything they've been through together. It felt like he had been in this world for months, not weeks. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight, and still single," Anders added with a light sigh.

"You came to the wrong place to meet someone," Remus responded and Mabel let out a loud, "HA!"

"So the wizard can tell jokes," Anders smirked, his pride hardly wounded.

And so their search began, their lighthearted banter doing its best to keep the unpleasant what-if's from the very forefront of thought. Their plant trails began to form once more upon contact with the earth and they made no attempt to hide them, using them as both a marker and a beacon; a living trail of bread crumbs. The lack of clover was a permanent fixture, however, and the long hours spent debating the merit of searching at all in their absence was drowned in the idea that doing something at all was better than nothing.

There was only one place they hadn't searched, one direction they hadn't gone in for the sake of the youngest of them: the abandoned town. Or, what they had taken to calling a town. With exploration the ruins had grown in size from the one building full of bones to a number of small houses, and then to several streets. It was a larger settlement than could be seen from within the mass of trees. A maze of decaying civilization, the town was as much a trap for whoever took Naoya as they were to the three of them, and they would need to tread carefully. If they still came up short, if they still found no sign of Naoya, then they would need to forcibly capture the attention of the Firestarters. Anders prayed to the Maker that it was they who had taken Naoya, perhaps thinking him a wandering child in the woods. He did not wish to risk their wrath without cause.

The house full of bones was not far, though they avoided it to keep Mabel from having to see the destruction inside. It would be too soon that the balverines began to grace her nightmares, as well. Through quick slashes of staff and wand, they cut their way through the overgrowth, without caution, to speed their journey. They traveled in near silence, focused on the road ahead. Over the perpetual birdsong, Mabel hummed an upbeat song neither of them knew. Her steps were strong with purpose as she followed along. The farther in they went, the more the trees were replaced by what had once been a bustling area. Like square blotches in a painting of green, the houses gathered closer and closer together. They were nearing the center of the town.

"Do you guys know any songs?" Mabel said after a while. "You're so quiet."

Remus thought it over for a moment. Did he know any songs? Of course he did, but they were-well, they were before her time. And he didn't have the voice for it. "Most of the music I listened to came from the seventies or earlier. Pink Floyd, The Beatles... Madonna is very popular right now, I hear her on the radio often."

"Pffff," Mabel laughed. "Madonna is so old fashioned! She's like a billion years old!"

"Not in 1985 she's not," Remus said, and Mabel's giggling slowed.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "What else?"

Remus stepped over a small rock wall and onto what was undoubtedly the remains of a stone street. He glanced to either side, indicating his right. There were more houses there, more cover for someone to hide. He looked to Anders.

"I can't sense anyone," he said. "Not yet."

"Well," Remus went on, heading to the right, "I have always been fond of quite a number of artists. I left my father with an old set of vinyls that I hope to see again someday. I've had many of them since I was small, simply because they used to belong to my mother. I was frequently bedridden as a child, and my mother had such a wide variety of music... We would listen to records for hours."

"You got sick when you were just a kid?" Mabel asked.

"Yes," he said. "I still deal with it today, but that's just part of life now." Mabel made a noise like a cross between sympathy and curiosity,  but Remus largely ignored it. "What about you, Anders? Do you know any songs?"

"Oh, yes," Anders smiled. "I was told on several occasions that I had quite a voice for it, but I never thought so. But when you're raised in the Circle like I was, you find plenty to occupy your time. Never mock the Chantry in tune, though: I had to write the Chant of Light on four rolls of parchment when I was caught mocking the words aloud," he chuckled.

Mabel's eyes lit up. "Sing! Sing a song!"

Remus saw Anders' cheeks turn a darker shade of pink. "I couldn't," he said with a sheepish smile. "I haven't sung in so many years."

"Aw!" Mabel pleaded, and Anders immediately began to pout. He thought kittens had begging eyes before, but this? He sighed, smiling.

"Alright, but-don't tell anyone, right? Especially me, if it's bad." He cleared his throat:

"You know Andraste's old mabari.
He don't show up in the chant.
And if you ask those holy sisters,
Well, they'll say Andraste can't
Have had some big old smelly wardog.
But all Ferelden knows it right:
Our sweet Lady needed someone
Who would warm her feet at night."

Anders stopped there. The rest of the song was far too gruesome for ears so young. But he blushed some more as Mabel clapped and cheered.

"That was wonderful!" Mabel said. "And you do have a beautiful voice." From her satchel she pulled out a collection of colorful images on a long strip of white paper, and slapped one on the back of Anders' hand. It stuck with some kind of adhesive, and as Anders twisted his arm to view it properly, he laughed.

"Good job," he said, reading the words below the cartoon rainbow aloud. "Well, thank you, Mabel."

"Welcome!" she nodded, completely satisfied, and half bounced her way forward. "Ooh, hey--why don't we ask that guy over there if he's seen anyone?"

Both of the magi stopped. Their shoulders stiffened and both men turned, following Mabel's pointing fingers to spot a man at the end of the road, sitting at a stand eerily reminiscent of a child's lemonade stand. He wore a white mask shaped like a fat, smiling toad. Two small, pink circles marked the corners of an upturned smile. He sat with his fingers woven together expectantly, staring at them from within an overly large, cream-colored sweater with a red heart stitched in the center of the chest.

Mabel looked between the two men, her small voice wavering. "What? Didn't you—didn't you see him?"

"...No," they admitted. They had been watching the road as they walked. The man hadn't been there before. It was impossible.

"Well he's the first person we've seen in days," Mabel went on. "And he looks like he's selling stuff. Haven't you guys ever played a video game? Maybe he's here to sell us stuff before a boss fight! Or maybe he's got something to eat." Gravel kicked up behind her as she half jogged out of their reach before either man could object.

"I would think there would be a several more chapters in this story before a boss fight," the masked man said with a short amicable chuckle, and his voice was neutral to a soft, almost whispering fault. The mask had only two openings for his eyes, which were dark and tired-looking, but no place for his mouth; his voice seemed to radiate directly from it rather than from behind it, but it was clearly not his true face. The mask was tied with a string that hugged his temples, just above his ears. Dark, messy whisps of hair obscured the strap as it ran behind his head. He leaned forward as he saw them approach.

"Hola. Buenos días, new friends." His greeting was hollow and toneless.

"Hola, señor," Mabel replied, striding up to the man's stand with confidence. "¿Cómo está?"

"Más o menos, mi dulce niña."

Mabel blinked, giving an apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry, that's all the Spanish I know."

"That is fine, I do not require it for business to be done," the man pleasantly replied. "I can understand everyone all the same."

"And what exactly is your 'business'?" came Anders' voice as he caught up to Mabel.  

The man tiled his head to the side, as if it were an odd question. Remus fought back a shudder that threatened to run up his spine at the unnatural gesture. The merchant paid no mind. "Why, I am the traditional items merchant that's necessary in every grand tale. And your plant trails mark you clearly as part of one. My name is Zacharie."

"'Traditional items merchant'?" the werewolf tried, and when Zacharie only nodded, he went on: "Out here, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Life still goes on when you are not looking, especially in nowhere. You are not my only customers."

"Right," Anders replied, the word a little too drawn out to be casual. "I can imagine balverines are a pleasant customer base. Lots of demand for flea potions, I suppose."

"Have you seen others, then?" Remus pushed. "We're looking for someone. Brownish-blond hair, he's a teenager; skinny, somewhat short?"

Zacharie tapped the bottom of his mask, as if he were thinking. "Hazel. I think you mean hazel hair. There is a difference."

"You must have seen him, then?"

"I may have."

"Do you remember where?"

"Here, in this forest."

"Where in this forest?"

"By some trees, near some large red rocks."

"Oh," Anders frowned. "Did you ever hear about the templar and the renegade mage? I can be funny too."

"Oh, I imagine there are many who know of this conversation and are plenty amused," Zacharie replied.

Mabel turned and waved her hands at both magi. "Hang on, hang on, I've got this," she said confidently, before turning back to Zacharie. She leaned sideways against the counter of his stand, letting her elbow hold her chin with a sly, little grin. "So what's your price? How much we gotta pay you to give us the deets?"

Zacharie's mask tilted down to face her. "I only accept payment in Credits."

The candle of Mabel's confidence was suddenly blown out. She blinked, giving the other two a desperate, searching look. "We, uh—don't have any."

"Shame," Zacharie shook his head. "I can do a currency exchange for you, or you can sell me something."

The magi looked at one another, awkwardly sending their hands through pockets and patting down limbs. There was a distinct absence of the clink of gold.

"M'afraid I have nothing," Remus muttered, his cheek against his shoulder as he searched his back pocket. He had hoped beyond hope that perhaps a loose bit of whatever coin Reaver's empire was founded on had made it's way into his new attire.

"Nor I," Anders confirmed back. He had pulled his sheathed dagger from his belt to search his trousers and it rested between his teeth as he spoke.

"Wait!"

Her spark relit, the excited noise had come from Mabel. She threw her satchel to the ground and had began to sift through—Maker, how did she manage to fit so much into there? And where did half of it come from? Three pairs of eyes settled on her as she dug for another moment, pulling out the strip of paper from before.

"Stickers!" she beamed, the brilliance of her idea blinding. "How much will you give us for three stickers?"

Zacharie reached over the desk to take the strip of paper and examine the colorful images for himself. He ran his finger down each one, observing them as though each one was an ancient and most precious piece of art. And then he chuckled to himself. The sound was cold and without emotion, like the rest of his voice, making both Anders and Remus shudder inwardly. In the blink of an eye the toad mask had become a cat-grinning through teeth like a thousand birch trees or the pounding of the summer's heaviest rain. Pointed ears tilted up and down as Zacharie finished laughing to himself.

"Cat stickers. You are lucky I love cats," he said, pausing to examine a few tie-dye kittens towards the bottom of the slip.

"Take them!" Mabel smiled at him. "And maybe one more for being so nice. Is that enough?"

"Hm," the merchant replied, having already placed one of the stickers on his new mask. He ripped off three more stickers before handing the strip back to Mabel. "If you keep heading in that direction," he began, pointing, "then eventually you will see a range of cliffs. Red cliffs, surrounded by pines. You will find him there. But tread carefully: he is not alone, and the people are very..." Again he tilted his head, this time trying to find a word. "...Cautious."

Remus and Anders shot one another dire looks: the Firestarters.

Mabel pocketed the remaining stickers and replaced her satchel as the magi turned in the direction indicated. "Thank you!"

"Yes," Remus stopped for a moment. "Thank you, very much." Anders nodded in kind.

Zacharie continued to stare after them as they disappeared into the woods once again.

"That was... disturbing," Anders murmured once they were out of earshot. Far, far out of earshot. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end and Justice was just beneath the surface. Both of them were on the alert, waiting for any signs that that "merchant" would come back. The mage's chest was tight. Once again, they were without much choice. They were going to follow this tip—the only help they had received in days, from a complete stranger with dubious intentions at best—or they were going to go their own way. Neither was a guarantee at finding Naoya.
"I should like to know how he knew where to find us," Anders muttered, mostly to himself but he didn't care if it carried. "That was too perfect. It isn't right. Let's just take the word of a mysterious figure in the middle of a monster-infested woodland. I think it will work out well!"

Remus sighed. "I agree with you, Anders. But if the merchant was correct... Can we afford not to take that chance?"

"No." The reluctance of this admission was strong in his voice, but Anders' stride didn't falter. "I have been through worse and come out alive," he said. "But I'm going to complain about it nonetheless."

This last bit he said with a light curl in his lips, and the others smiled.

"It wasn't that bad," Mabel offered. "It was weird, but this place is full of weird stuff. Maybe it's just good luck."

"How did you know to sell him something?"

Mabel stuck her thumbs into the collar of her sweater, pulling it out with a smug look and letting it snap back into place. "You just have to know how to play... the game," she gloated. "My Grunke Stan taught me."

"I should like to meet this Grunkle Stan of yours someday," Anders snorted, mildly impressed. She could do well in Orlais.

It took another hour before any sign of the merchant's word had come to pass. In their journey from the lemonade stand in the middle of absolute nowhere, the forest had begun to thin. Not just cease to close in with thick vegetation, but to actually spread out. The trees had less girth here, and the vines in the canopy were not nearly as commonplace. And, as the merchant had said, large boulders and jagged pillars of red rock had begun to pop up here and there. And the smell of the forest had changed as well: the overwhelming power of the pine had been tainted by the vapors of salt and something vaguely fishy. Anders recognized it at once as the smell of the docks below Kirkwall, where refugees poured in by the hundreds each day seeking solace from the Blight. The sound of seagulls began to coax images of waves and seashells into the forefront of their minds.

"D'you think there will be mermaids here?" Mabel asked, taking a deep breath of ocean air. "I met one once, and he was really cool."

"It's hard to say, though that must have been a fascinating experience," said Remus. "I met several selkies in my youth, though I suspect yours was more human-looking in appearance?"
Mabel smiled, laughing fondly to herself as she reminisced. "He lived in the public swimming pool."

Anders smirked at the look on Remus' face. "I don't know anything about these creatures," he said, still grinning. "But either way, I want to now."

"Wait—Mabel, stop!"

"Uh-oh..."

Anders tensed sharply at the tone, looking ahead to where Remus had been walking in front of them. His arm outstretched, Remus appeared frozen as he bade Mabel to stand still.  Anders felt his own heart begin to race. He made to take a step, but Remus' hand shot out.

"Don't," he urged.

"Remus, what is it?"

With the same hand, Remus pointed down towards the ground. It took Anders a few determined blinks, but in the right ray of sun he caught the glint off of the metal wire strung between the trees marking the animal path they had followed: a wire pulled tense by the girl's unsuspecting step, barely visible across the top of her black shoes.

Remus cursed under his breath. This is what Zacharie had meant by 'cautious.' He knelt down beside Mabel, following the track of the wire as it vanished into the trees. He slid his jaw side to side as he thought. "We must be close to their camp."

"Comforting," Anders shot with a frown. "How do we get her out of there?"

"Can't you do some magic guy thing?" Mabel asked. "You know, levitate me or something?" She pinched her skirt closer to her legs in preparation.

"I don't think so," Remus said, sliding his wand from it's resting place on his belt. "The problem is, we have no idea what will happen when you spring the trap."

"Some Indiana Jones thing, then! You can't leave me here!"

Anders frowned. India-what? He stepped carefully to Mabel, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We're not going to leave you here. I'm promising you that."

He looked back to Remus, who paced slightly while tapping his bottom lip with his wand. Anders gave Mabel's shoulders a slight squeeze before tracking the wire with a careful eye. Moss grew over old moss as he retraced some of his old steps as he trailed the wire into the brush. Pushing aside some wild grapes, Anders squinted. Pushing to focus, his eyes followed the metal strand out, out, out... and then, up.

"Oh," he said aloud. "Oh. Remus, look."

Remus caught the urgent waving out of the corner of his eye and his reaction to the trap was much the same. "Ah..."

Mabel bit her lip, bunching her sleeves into her fists. "What is it? Are you guys gonna tell me?"

None of them failed to notice how her voice quivered.

"No," said Remus. "No, no, this is a good thing. Now we can work with this."

Mabel frowned, resisting the urge to step over there and give them a piece of her mind. "Work with what?"

"The trap," Anders explained, hurrying to her side. "We know what it does now. Remus, Mabel and I can work here. Can you handle the mechanism?"

Remus nodded. "Of course." He backed off, raising his wand to the ready position. "Whenever you two are set."

Mabel's eyes darted between Remus and Anders, an involuntary nose betraying her trepidation.

"All we have to do is jump," Anders assured her with a squeeze to her shoulder. "Backwards, as hard as you can. We'll do it together. Alright?"

Imagining some grievous blade swooping across the forest floor to sever her ankles, Mabel took a deep breath. And then another. And, another. "...Okay."

"On three, then... One, two... three!"

Together the pair stepped back and leapt, falling onto their backs as far away as their legs could throw them. With a great crashing, a massive pair of logs tore through layers of vines and small branches and slammed into one another with enough force to crush ten men between them. Mabel screamed, drawing her sweater up over half of her face but too stunned to turn away. Anders found his fingers reaching for his earlobes, the blast of sound reminiscent of a powerful explosion that pushed on flesh and bone like firecrackers. All of them were wide-eyed.

Remus raced forward, kneeling down with a thud. "Are you both aright?"

"I am," Anders groaned. "Though I think I hit my head on a stump. All this moss, and it couldn't soften that blow? Ugh, but—Mabel, are you..?"

"Yeah, yeah," she gave in weak response. She was still staring at the trap, clutching her chest.

Remus offered his hand, helping them both up before circling the trap, glancing at the sheer size of the two massive hunks of wood. "These are practically whole trees," he observed. "But we had no idea they were here from the ground. Very clever."

Anders had come up behind him. "Look," he said, pointing to an over-sized drape that hung high in the canopy, billowing against a freshly broken limb in the new hole in the greenery. The camouflage pattern stained onto fabric was perfect for the bloom of spring. "It broke limbs coming down. It had to have been here for a while, but it looks like it has been maintained."

"The Firestarters," Remus said, and he hoped he was right. "They would have the skill to do something like this and evade the balverines for so long."

"I think this trap is for the balverines," Anders suggested.

"I don't think so. They moved through the trees, if you remember. I think this is for trespassers."

"Then you're correct: we're close."

"This is dangerous," Mabel said, and the magi turned to her. "We should be careful, if we're just going to keep going...?"

Remus frowned. It was one thing for two fully trained wizards to risk the dangers at hand, but a child? They couldn't ask that of her. Not anymore. "We shouldn't keep on whatsoever," he said, eyeing the trap that could nearly have been the end of them. "We don't know what else is out here. And we lack a destination, so we may very well find a minefield of traps before we discover anything useful."

"So what alternative do we have?"

"Wait."

The magi stopped. "Mabel?"

"No!" The girl had her arms crossed now, and her normally chipper demeanor was turned sour with down-turned lips. "No. Don't do that. Don't go off on your own and leave me behind like that. You guys think that because you have magic that I can't do anything. And you leave me out of the important choices. I'm  thirteen, I get it. But the thing with the trap? That... that look that you guys exchange all the time, when you think nobody's looking? I see it. Naoya sees it, too! We're not just tag-alongs!"

"We don't think that," Anders started, but Mabel cut him off.

"I may not be magic, but I can do stuff too! You wouldn't have found Zacharie if it weren't for me. You wouldn't have gotten his information if it weren't for me! I've fought demons before! I can do stuff too, okay? And you two are off in your own world because you're magic buddies or whatever—I was so scared, but nobody would tell me what was going on until we were jumping out of the way! I'm not useless!"

This last part she said with a tearful sniff, wiping her eyes. She was trembling something fierce. Remus felt his stomach drop and Anders practically wilted. "Mabel..."

She said nothing, continuing to sink further into her sweater as if to hide her tears. She fell onto her knees, scooting awkwardly away as the witch hazel sprouts scratched at her bare skin. "I want to go home. I want to see Grunkle Stan. I want to see my stupid brother. I just... I just..."

She forced her chin up, taking a deep, angry breath. "No," she said again, but this time, it was to herself. "No." She stood up once again, brushing her knees off with hands that no longer shook. And she sniffled one last time before meeting the eyes of the other two with wet, glossy eyes. She sighed. "Let's just go."

The magi exchanged looks—but not the same knowing glances as previous.

"Mabel..."

"We had no idea..."

"It's okay," she murmured. "It's no big deal."

"But it is," Remus said. "You're absolutely right. We never thought of you as useless, but we never considered you, either."

Anders nodded. "I'm sorry, too. Things have just been forcing us to keep going; to keep fighting. It seems there were... unintended wounds."

Mabel kicked at the witchhazel with her shoes. "Nah, I just... I should probably say sorry, too. I didn't mean to put that all on you guys. I know you're just trying to protect me. I was just really scared. And before I came here, I had—" she paused, forcing her throat to swallow with effort—"I don't even know why I'm talking about it. ...I had a fight with my brother, Dipper. He's really smart. He was going to stay in Gravity Falls at the end of the summer to learn all sorts of stuff with our other Grunkle, Ford. But Ford doesn't think I can do anything like that. ...Dipper doesn't think I can do anything like that. ...Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything at all... And now I'm here, wherever this is, and I just want to go home..."

Her eyes had become watery again, but Mabel's hands were stiff at her sides. "I held you back from trying to find Naoya, didn't I?"

Remus took her gently by the shoulders. "Mabel Pines, you are one of the bravest people I know. You aren't magic, that's true. But you're absolutely right: we would not be anywhere near here without you. It isn't that you don't have skills—if I were to guess, I would say that it is more a lack of understanding on the part of others. You do more than you think, and it is largely due to just being the person you are: kind, thoughtful, and positive. You are capable of doing anything you set out to do—even more than Anders or I—and it is because you have a wonderful heart. No matter what happens, you find your way. Don't ever doubt that."

"We might have left the Windmill much sooner without you," Anders added, "but it was a good thing we had you around. It was a very good thing, because you kept us looking forward. You kept us from losing hope. Right when things were darkest, you found Zacharie. And now we're going to find Naoya, Mabel, and it's going to be because of you. Magic isn't everything. Back home, some of the best people I ever knew were born without it. You remind me of one of them, actually: she was an elf, from a clan of wanderers. She was our Warden-Commander, and she became the legendary 'Hero of Fereldan', despite the whole world being against her. They sing songs about her. She had the kindest soul I've ever known, Mabel, and you have the same spirit. "
Anders bent over just enough to give her a small hug.

"We don't know why we were brought together," he said, releasing her. "But you're part of this story now, whatever we make of it. And we're glad for it."

"I, uh..." Mabel sniffed, a tiny smile breaking through, "... thanks, you guys. ... So —...what do we do now?"

"Well, Mabel," Remus offered, "have you got any ideas? It appears Zacharie gave us good information, and I suspect that if we continue on we may find where Naoya has been taken. But we run the risk of further traps."

"And if we go much farther," Anders pointed out, "we won't get back to the Windmill before nightfall. We can travel at night, certainly. But I don't want to find out what other wonderful beasts roam the woods after dark."

Mabel put her finger to her lips thoughtfully. "You said we're close, right? The trap was really loud. What if they heard us?"

"There's no way to know," Anders frowned. "Maybe they run a watch to check the traps, but it's later on in the day. I would guess that they don't want to be out in the dark, same as us. So they might not come back until morning, if they do at all."

"What if we could make them check again?" Mabel asked. She sighed to herself as she thought, pacing in a small circle. Suddenly she giggled quietly, her face taking on a grave look as she pointed towards the two men. "Only you," she growled, rolling her eyes with an apologetic grin.

Remus looked at her. "Only us?"

"Yeah," Mabel replied. "You know, the whole—oh, I forget you're British. It's all over the TV and billboards and stuff. Smokey the Bear. 'Only you can prevent forest fires!'"

Anders' eyes widened. "Mabel—that's it!" He let out a bark of a laugh, as though the solution had been in front of him all along.

"What's it?"

Anders laughed again, brushing fallen hairs from his face and back behind his ears. "We set the trap on fire! Then they'll have to come and check on it!"

Striding purposefully to the logs, Anders examined the trap. The logs dangled uselessly in the air like park swings, and with a few carefully directed blasts of magic the pine needles and other debris was cleared away from beneath them. Not needing to be told twice, Remus followed Anders to the trap and as soon as the mage was done, he held his wand above his head. The trees above them groaned as red sparks shot from the metal cables one by one. As the logs completed their journey back to the ground, their bulk still shook the ground with the impact. In nothing short of an instant, each of the timbers combusted into dancing fingers of flame. Mabel coughed, the column of black smoke rising in the aftermath as powerful as the radiating heat. Through the thick of it she could see both men circling the perimeter of the blaze, sending blasts of water and ice here and there to control stray fires sprouting where they were unwelcome.

If this didn't catch someone's attention, then nothing would.

As they crested the top of a hill, they could see it in the shortening distance: smoke. Gray and thick, it billowed up from beneath the green and showed no signs of slowing. Or, thankfully, spreading.

"That's not good," Sokka said, coming up beside Wash. "But that's probably where the scream came from."

"I don't recall anything flammable in any of our traps, though," Wash said with only a slight hint of sarcasm behind her words. Both she and Sokka knew that there was nothing flammable—they had set many of them themselves! Sokka frowned, though, picking up on her meaning.

"You think somebody set the fire," he said.

"I don't know," she sighed in return, pushing her hands against her lower back. What she wouldn't give for a good pop to release tension. "But what else could it be?"

Sokka nodded gravely. "There's only one way to find out."

They ducked down into the woods again, following strict paths through the undergrowth as they checked the sky with each pillar of light. The wind was calm, and they were able to follow the smoke without pause. Boots well worn and familiar with the dangerous ground tread knowingly past each protruding root, ducking under each rock overhang and below the low-hanging limbs. Whoever it was in their woods, they had the home field advantage. And they knew how to use it. It didn't take long before they were directly beneath the tower of blackness, and they crept slowly towards the orange flames seen roaring through the brush.

"I hear voices," Sokka whispered. "I don't think they're balverines."

"We don't know that," Wash countered. "Even if they took our people, we don't know all of them. You should know that better than anyone by now."

Sokka's breath caught silently in his throat at the memory of Sabrina. He saw her in his mind again, reaching out to him for help. Her voice trailed across his thoughts as she begged him for help, claiming to have fallen into this world just like he had only a few months prior. Betrayal burned deep inside Sokka's chest, and he clutched his sword a little tighter. He inched forward, determined to make everything right—determined to prove himself once again.

"I see someone!"

"Careful," Wash hissed. "What do they look like?" She craned her neck, trying to get a good viewing angle.

"It's a man," Sokka began. " He's got a blue coat with small, grey feathers on the shoulder pads...He's blond. And he's got a staff.  And there's another: brown hair, green tunic... he's got a... stick? Okay, then." Sokka squinted as he tried to examine the scene further. "Oh, man," he said suddenly, and Wash couldn't help but look up at his tone.

"What is it?"

"There's a girl," Sokka breathed. "But I don't see anyone else."

"She's all alone with them?" Wash asked. Sokka nodded. "Now what the hell is a group like that doing all the way out here? They don't even look like they come from the same place."

"They could be like us."

"No—wait," Wash blurted. She pointed and Sokka followed her finger to where the men caught a small flame in the bud. It went out with a wisps of ice that Sokka could almost feel run down his spine, but that was not what caught his attention: all three of them had plants sprouting in their wake.

Just like Dipper. And just like Naoya.

"Let's go," Wash whispered, her military instinct kicking in and giving a predatory glint to her eye. She indicated her plan to Sokka with a few careful gestures and the teenager nodded. They moved in.

"Blasted flames," Anders muttered. They were large enough to burn the lower leaves and branches, and it was a chore to keep them from spreading. The heat was intense, and the mage coughed as smoke went down his throat.

"Over there!" Mabel pointed to a spot on the ground beginning to smoulder, which sputtered into nothing with a flicker from Remus' wand. "You think this will work?"

"I hope so," Remus replied. He tapped his wand against his bottom lip as he watched the wolfsbane flowers nearest the heat turn black and fade slowly into ash.

"Everything within fifty miles will see this if the weather holds," Anders said, coming back to the others. "I don't doubt that Alastor can see this from his new seat on Reaver's throne. And at the very least, we can roast some marshmallows."

Mabel gasped excitedly, looking between them at the mention of sweets—but her heart sank with her smile when she realized that none of them had anything of the sort on their person. "Magic guys can't summon marshmallows?" she murmured under her breath with a despondent sigh.

"Nobody move," a voice shot harshly through the smoke. "Hands up. Let's go!"

Chills rushed down spines as all three of them turned about-face. A woman with olive skin and a no-nonsense ponytail held a weapon to them with an iron look in her eye. Anders didn't need to know what kind of weapon was to observe the look in Remus' face and feel his heart drop. Justice was just beneath the surface of his skin, ready to protect them all if need be. Anders thought he could feel his whole body humming with a mixture of anticipation and the electric pulses of the Fade spirit, and his body tightened like a coil.

"We don't mean you any harm," Remus offered at once. His face was neutral and his voice controlled, and his wand was suspended between three fingers in his dominant hand. The woman pointed to it.

"Drop the stick," she demanded. Then she gave Anders a look of ice. "And you: drop the staff. Kick it to me."

Anders did as she asked. After all, as a mage didn't need a staff to be dangerous. But damned if it didn't help. "We're innocent travelers," he said, showing his bare hands. "We don't mean to cause any trouble."

"Innocent travelers don't set things on fire," the woman said. "And don't think I didn't notice your dagger."

Anders made a show of carefully removing the blade from it's sheath and tossing it in the space between them. "There. That's everything I have."

"We've come a long way," said Remus. "We've been searching for one of our own. He's—"

"You don't ask questions," the woman snapped. "You come into our territory, set fire to our traps—we're at war with the balverines of these woods. You know how this looks?"

"We're not with the balverines, nor are we members of the Hive," said Remus with an urgent dip in his voice. "As I said, we are travelers searching for one of our own. We have a child—surely that shows you that we are not monsters!"

The woman's black eyes searched them as she thought over his words. "Sokka?"

From behind them, a young male voice sounded. "I don't see anyone else."

Boots crunched on the dead leaves as Sokka came around to his commander. He was a boy around Naoya's own age, with even darker skin and water-blue eyes. His hair was shaved at the sides into a mohawk that fell into a small pony towards the back like Anders' did, and his wardrobe was made of aged blue cloth accented with bone. In his hands, a sword made of a strange, black metal was poised to strike. His posture was one of a student well trained in swordsmanship.

"Good," the woman said, though she didn't drop her weapon. She fixed her gaze sternly on the strange men once again. "You may address me as Lieutenant Washington. Now: who are you?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Anders."

"I'm Mabel Pines."

Wash lowered her weapon slowly. "Mabel, are you hurt? Are you with these men by choice?"

"Yeah," replied Mabel as each of them lowered their hands in turn. "They rescued me when I fell through some kind of hole into the woods."

At that, Wash's lips gave a judicious twitch to the side. She pointed to Remus and Anders. "Let me guess: you have no idea how you got here. You fell through some kind of portal and landed in the woods. Same as her?"

Both men gave the affirmative.

"Uh-huh," the Lieutenant said. "I believe the girl. The balverines don't traditionally turn children, they just eat them outright. But you boys? I'm not convinced yet. You wouldn't mind if I just checked something quickly, would you?"

Remus and Anders looked between her and then to each other.

"No."

"No."

Wash reached behind her with the hand that wasn't holding her pistol. "Good."

From her belt, she slid out her own dagger. It was not shiny and polished like Anders, but crude. Undoubtedly sharp and made by a skilled hand, it was obviously designed more for function than it was for beauty. But that only made the magi more uncomfortable.

"Hold out your palms," Wash demanded. Without speaking, and ignoring the gasp from Mabel, she slid her rifle onto her back and took their hands in hers, making one small, smooth stroke across each open palm. It was not enough to damage, but enough to draw a show of blood. And it was enough to make each man wince and gnash his teeth with averted eyes. Wash wiped the blade on her pants.

"You pass," she said.

"You sound disappointed," Anders blanched.

"Only a little," Wash retorted with what could almost pass for a smirk. "We've lost so many people to the balverines that sometimes I look forward to returning the favor. But," she added seriously, "the silver didn't affect you like it does them, so you pass. You're not balverines."

"No," Remus finished. "We're not. We fell into this forest like Mabel—and, I suspect, like yourselves. And we're just looking for someone we've lost. A boy named Naoya."