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Chapter Text

It was the night of the new moon. He hated new moons.

Normally, he could at least look forward to seeing the stars at their brightest. But tonight the clouds were drawn thick over the sky, and the reedy torchlight barely showed him the ground ahead of his feet as he and Tulio moved toward the row of cages at the edge of camp.

They came to a halt before the two empty cages at the end.

They’d been occupied just that afternoon. The faint tang of blood and singed fur still clung to the air of the camp. Or maybe just to him.

Tulio’s fingers dug into his shoulder. “Extra care with those enchantments this time, mage. And add another layer to the mutts, too. I’ve got a feeling in the old leg.”

Jaime’s gaze strayed to a single patch of stars peeking through above the distant mountains. “Yes, sir.”

“And hurry back.” He slapped Jaime’s back hard enough to send him stumbling. “I heard talk that he wants to give you a special thank you for your hard work.”

His stomach twisted at that, bile rising in his throat. But he simply nodded.

Jaime waited until Tulio’s footsteps faded to exhale. His shoulders fell and he approached the first cage, easing the door shut and reinforcing the lock.

He traced runes with his fingertips, murmuring the familiar spells as he moved around all four sides. After he finished, he closed his eyes and pushed an additional trickle of power through.

Tulio’s bad feelings were rarely accurate. But complying was expected just the same.

The next empty cage went quickly, and the runes glowed white for an instant before fading back into thin lines.

When he continued forward, he had to brace himself.

The big wolf was the most recent capture. Of the still-living, anyway. He had been in the cage for two weeks, and his inky fur gleamed in the dim light, enough fire still in him to lift his hackles and snarl at Jaime as he approached.

Jaime cast a glance over his shoulder, then reached into his pockets and pulled out scraps of dried meat. He cast a piece into each cage before returning to the black wolf.

It was rare that he had a chance to take any scraps unnoticed, rarer still that he dared the risk. Was it a small kindness, or just a cruelty, to give the captive wolves a little more strength? He didn’t know.

But the black wolf snapped up the meat and sat back on his haunches, eyes glinting and following Jaime as he made his way around the prison.

He growled deep in his chest when Jaime layered another shielding charm over him, keeping him bound in his wolf form and blocking his packmates’ senses.

Jaime didn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t speak to the wolves. He rarely did anymore. And he couldn’t today. Not after the hunters had pulled the corpses of the old white wolf and the lithe, tawny female out in the early dawn and harvested their fur in full view of the surviving prisoners.

At the final cage, his hand shook as he traced the runes. He paused, taking a deep breath and pulling on the last dregs of his strength and the threads of magic they’d loosed for the task. When he took a step, he tripped and had to brace himself against the bars. A dull shock thrummed up his arm — nothing like the spells on the inside, but enough to make him wince.

The last wolf was small. Not a pup, but young. His chest squeezed. He’d never seen her in her human form. At first, her silvery fur had shimmered like moonlight. Now she was thin and coated with dust, her eyes closed and her muzzle tucked tight under one paw. He thought, dully, that she would probably be the next to go.

To her, he whispered so quietly that even her keen hearing might not catch it. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t move.

He finished the reinforcements and turned to go. When he passed by the black wolf, it slammed against the bars of the cage, making Jaime flinch.

He quickened his steps.

The winter chill was settling in, lifting goosebumps on his skin and making him shiver as he stopped outside the big tent. Light glowed from beneath the flap and plumes of smoke rose from the center. He paused to listen.

Eskender’s laugh rang out and the others followed. It was a loose, rowdy laughter. Jaime swallowed. Drunk and pleased Eskender was a knife’s edge. Better than angry. But dangerous.

He pushed the tent flap aside and stepped in.

“Ah, didn’t lose any fingers to the wolves, did you, mage? They looked hungry.” Tulio elbowed Eskender, smirking. “Not that you’d make much of a meal.”

Jaime fixed his eyes somewhere around their boots. “I finished the enchantments.”

“Just in time, too.” Eskender snapped and gestured to the space beside him. “We were starting to get bored.”

Woodenly, Jaime picked his way through the other hunters and sat.

The tent was warm, but he still felt the urge to shiver.

Eskender seized his chin with rough fingers, capturing Jaime’s mouth with his own. He tasted like salt and the vinegary wine they’d come back from town with. Jaime stayed pliant, his fingertips pressing hard into the packed earth.

When Eskender pulled back, he lifted his mug. “To the hunt,” he said.

The others raised their glasses and echoed the toast.

“To the gold,” Emalina said from where she leaned against Lily.

They laughed and toasted again.

“And to ridding the country of every one of those stinking beasts,” Eskender said. He pressed a mug into Jaime’s hand and raised it into the air, sloshing half the wine onto his lap.

The hunters cheered.

The group drank deeply, and Jaime drained the rest of the mug’s contents. It made his empty stomach roil, but he wanted his senses dulled.

“I’m feeling generous tonight.” Eskender grinned sharply and laid a hand on the remnants of Jaime’s close-shorn hair. “I think I’ll share.”

Dimitri stiffened as the mage-hunter approached, the torchlight hitting the hollows of his face and making him look like the monster he was. He regarded the wolves blankly, remorselessly. They were animals to him, Dimitri knew. Nothing more than beasts to kill, pelts to sell.

The mage tossed scraps of meat into the cages to keep them quiet while he worked.

Once, Dimitri would have said he’d never accept food from the hands of a hunter — let alone the mage who made their blood-soaked mission possible. Now, he knew he’d take the food where he could get it. At least the mage hadn’t given them anything tainted, unlike the tall man with the hooked nose. That had left Dimitri’s stomach cramping for hours, and sent Maya into coughing and gagging fits that made her bump the shocking spells on the bars.

Dimitri supposed it would only make more work for the mage if he had to clean up puddles of sick while he was casting.

He snapped up the jerky and stared the man down, snarling when he felt another layer of binding magic fall over his fur.

It tightened, trapping the howls in his throat and blocking the scents from his nose, concealing his own scent from his packmates. The urge to shift was more than an itch now. It was a constant agony, tinged heavily with fear. He might never be in his human form again.

Rescue was starting to seem less and less likely. They’d patrolled to find the hunters’ camp before, many times since the band had moved onto the edges of Hearthstone territory last year. He’d led the searches himself, and they’d never been successful. The mage’s web of deceiving magic was too thick.

And here he was adding more.

At last, the mage finished enchanting the young girl at the end. He didn’t know her, but he could sense her despair deepening every time he glanced her way. She was just a child, probably no older than Nadia or Alexei. She didn’t deserve this early, slow death.

When the mage passed back by, Dimitri slammed his shoulders against the cage just to see him flinch. He didn’t look Dimitri’s way, instead brushing his sins off and marching back to the comfort of his tent. For his rewards. Dimitri shook off the cage shock and stared at the man’s retreating back in disgust.

He waited until the mage was out of sight to lay back down.

The floor of the cage was cold and hard, and he could feel the night air more keenly than when they’d first captured him.

Tonight, though, it was barely enough to pierce through his haze of mourning. Yusif and Maya. Both dead.

He struggled to count the days, but the new moon meant it had been barely a fortnight since they’d been captured. It hadn’t even been a proper hunt, just a romp to take in the last of the autumn colors. Yusif had ribbed Dimitri into the expedition, saying his old bones needed some fresh air, and that even though he hadn’t been captain of the hunt in many years, he could still track an acorn-fat squirrel with the best of them. Dimitri couldn’t help but relent, rolling his eyes and smiling.

And Maya... she’d not been out of the pack’s camp since delivering her stillborn cub. Yusif had always had a soft spot for her, one she reciprocated, and he’d coaxed her along.

Dimitri’s spirits had been high as he saw his friend’s steps quicken and her nose twitch in the dry leaves. She’d looked happy.

Then Yusif had triggered the snare, trapping them all beneath a heavy, enchanted silver net.

It was Dimitri’s fault. He hadn’t been watchful, hadn’t been acting his role as the current hunt captain. And now they were dead. Sooner even than the wolves that had already been in the hunters’ camp.

Yusif had been too old to withstand the elements, the starvation, the torments. And Maya had still been weak from the hard labor.

Dimitri closed his eyes, huddling tighter. If he somehow made it home, how would he tell Ivan?

Normally, they’d all be in the dens on a new moon night, curled together and getting extra rest.

Tonight, he’d have gladly accepted the warmth of the strangers in the cages beside him, but he couldn’t even have that.

All he could do was try to sleep, and hope his dreams were kinder.

Chapter Text

They only had three wolves left in the cages.

The black wolf. The grizzled brown wolf. And the little silver wolf, who had managed to cling to existence against all odds. Jaime wondered what she was hanging on for. The wolf she’d been caught with had died days ago, but she still seemed determined to live. He wanted, desperately, to give her that chance.

Distant howling pierced the sky almost every night, but they hadn’t caught any more wolves in weeks.

The hunters were on edge, like coiled springs ready to lash out. Yesterday, they’d taken it out on the wolves, even going so far as to pull the black wolf out of the cage in ropes and let him snap and try to escape before jabbing a hot poker into his side and shoving him back inside the bars.

When they’d started toward the silver wolf, Jaime had deliberately knocked over the entire cauldron of stew that he’d almost finished for dinner.

That had given them a different outlet for their frustrations. One that lasted well into the night.

Today they’d had Jaime mend and respell their hunting gear and gone out looking for a more ordinary type of prey, and come back with a plump rabbit and string of pheasants that were crackling over the fire.

Satisfied for now, the hunters sat circled around the blaze, muttering about moving camp or modifying traps as the shadows began to lengthen. This pack was trickier than most, they said, and they didn’t want to leave the job unfinished, but their profit margins would start to drop if they went too long without fresh product. Maybe if they had the mage do...

He stopped straining his ears to listen and turned his attention back to his lap. The smell of cooking meat made his stomach cramp with hunger, but he took a slow breath and tied a new knot at the end of the thread.

Jaime’s body throbbed and ached inside and out, his vision swimming as he pushed a shaky needle through yet another hole in Jakob’s coat. He kept quiet, bracing his feet against the bark of the stump he sat on to keep them off the ice-crusted dirt.

He moved the needle in and out, fighting to keep the stitches even. For a man who was constantly ripping his clothes, Jakob was exacting about mending, and heavy handed with his displeasure when the results didn’t meet his expectations.

(Eskender didn’t deign to loose any of his magic for this paltry task, of course. Not when there was nothing better for him to do. The menial labor was all he was fit for in the downtime if the hunters didn't need him.)

Jaime glanced back toward the fire, then shut his eyes and reached out to the barriers surrounding the camp. There was a small patch where the enchantments had worn thin, and for days he’d been picking at it like a scab. He pulled again on the loose threads of magic, grimacing as pain flared at his neck.

Tampering with the enchantments or dismantling them without orders was strictly against the few magical boundaries they’d managed to weave into the collar.

Mage collars were complicated to begin with, and modifying the spells of another mage was never easy business either. Jaime was grateful they’d only worked out a few magical bonds that would stick when they made him cast them on himself. Otherwise, he doubted he would have any semblance of free will left.

As it was, he could at least manage this much.

Just tugging and pushing, a little here and there. Never enough that they’d notice his flashes of discomfort and start wondering what he was up to, or enough to bring on unbearable pain — just enough to worry away at the edges of the weak point in the wards.

He hoped he’d get far enough before they thought to have him check and reinforce them again.

By the time he’d finished the mending pile, the full moon was rising yellow and glowing above the mountains. The black wolf was more active than he’d been in more than a week, pacing restless circles inside the cage.

“Jaime,” a low voice said from behind him, making him jump and prick his thumb with the needle.

He stiffened.

Hearing his given name was never a good sign.

“Yes, sir?”

Eskender pulled him up from the stump by his wrist, then trailed a fingernail along Jaime’s cheekbone.

“I’ve been too generous lately,” the man said pensively, his eyes shadowed. “It’s been too long since I’ve had you to myself.”

Jaime swallowed, throat tightening.

“Well?” Eskender’s grip on his wrist was hard enough to move the bones.

“Of course, Eskender,” he choked out. “I’ve missed it too.”

“Mm. That’s what I thought.” Eskender tugged him toward his tent. “No time to waste then. Make it good, and I might let you heal everything up in the morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Inside, he let Eskender strip his thin clothes from his frame and reached back out to the enchantments. At least, this way, Eskender wouldn’t notice if he was flinching a little more than normal.

All he needed was a little more time.

As the moon reached its zenith, Dimitri stopped pacing long enough to stare up.

It bathed the whole clearing in cool light, from the tents to the smoldering ashes to the wide wooden table they used for butchering their captives.

If it wasn’t such a horrible place, the night would have almost made it beautiful. Dimitri wished he could howl, call his pack to him and run together under the full moon.

It was his second as the hunters’ prisoner. He wasn’t sure if he could hold out for a third.

Giving up pacing, he licked at an oozing cut on his foreleg leftover from the hunters’ sport the day before. A weak part of him wished they’d just killed him and been done with it, but that would have defeated their purpose.

After all, the pelt of a wolf whose life had been taken didn’t hold magic nearly as well. A pelt from a wolf that died naturally was far more useful. That was what these barbarians claimed, anyway.

And besides, Dimitri hadn’t given up. Not yet.

The hunters had been talking of leaving the area entirely, and while that meant nothing good for Dimitri, it might leave the rest of his pack safe.

He could hold out hope for that, at least.

The brown wolf beside him sat up abruptly, ears pricked.

Dimitri lowered his leg, listening.

Howls.

He ached with the need to go to them. He thought he might even recognize Khali’s rich timbre.

Then he realized why the other wolf was on alert

Unlike most nights, the howls weren’t fading into the distance.

They were getting louder.

Chapter Text

Khalida stared into the shadows of the trees, losing herself in the low hum of night.

It felt wrong to go on a full moon hunt without Dimitri.

Like trying to walk without one of her limbs, or jumping for a ledge to find nothing but air.

They’d once again scoured the forest, the mountainside, the valley, and found nothing but a snare that was deeper in Hearthstone territory than ever before. Fortunately, Sasha and Naomi had been together, and he’d managed to get the silver rope off her leg and get them home before the hunters came looking.

When they returned, Khali put a ban on anyone setting foot outside of the camp alone.

A little voice inside her whispered that Yusif, Maya, and Dimitri hadn’t been alone, and it hadn’t saved them...

She knew she couldn’t control everything, and that killed her.

The bonds of the pack had been shielded the moment the hunters had captured the others, so she couldn’t even tell if they were still alive.

It ate away at her with every breath she took.

Lada tried to help her stay out of her head, keep the day to day tasks going, to think about the bigger picture for the pack, but it felt like one injustice too many. They’d already lost four good wolves to the hunters. She couldn’t lose any more.

A cold nose against her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

Sasha chuffed beside her. When she looked at him, he nodded toward the forest ahead.

Khali nodded, bumping her shoulder against his and following the rest of the pack.

They all needed to blow off some steam, and their stores could use more bolstering ahead of the coming snow.

For now, she could focus on that.

Lada shifted into human form up ahead, pressing her fingers into the telltale grooves of elk antlers on a tree. Where the moonlight filtered through the forest canopy, it made her red hair gleam.

Khali shifted beside her, taking her mate’s free hand.

“Big,” she commented, looking at the height of the marks.

Lada squeezed her fingers, tracing the lines thoughtfully. “Hm. And alone, I think.”

Priya and Max trailed back toward the tree, their paws nearly silent on the underbrush. They sat on their haunches to watch Lada, heads tilted.

Lada was their best tracker. Better, even, than Dimitri.

(Their monthly competitions nearly always went in her favor. She didn’t let him forget it.)

“Have you seen anything else?” Khali asked softly.

Her mate’s lips thinned and she shook her head.

Khali tried to push back the cold feeling in her chest. She hadn’t expected it, but she couldn’t stop hoping. “We follow the elk, then.”

Just as Khali prepared to shift again, Sasha let out a whine.

They all turned to him.

Her brother’s nose was in the air, his hackles raised.

Then his eyes flashed toward Khali.

She had her nose lifted before her paws even hit the ground.

Beside her, Lada stiffened.

There was smoke on the breeze, suddenly. Smoke, and cooked meat, and the unmistakable scent of humans.

And something else, too, something like the crackle of lightning.

Her eyes widened.

Magic.

She couldn’t smell her captured packmates, and she tried not to think about why.

The wolves circled together, growling low in their throats.

Khali detected the distinct scents of at least eight humans. Maybe more.

Her lips curled in a snarl.

The bond between the hunting pack rippled, and they lifted their heads in a howl.

They had a new quarry.

The forest flew by in a blur as they ran toward the hunters, their strides in perfect unison. Khali’s heart pounded, the heat of a fight already rising in her blood.

When they reached the edge of a clearing, they stopped.

Khali shifted uneasily, pressing close to Lada.

It was empty.

There was nothing there, not that her eyes could see.

But the scents... The scents said otherwise.

She stared hard, holding her breath to listen.

Lada bumped her side and lifted her nose to indicate a plume of smoke that seemed to appear in the middle of the air, no column of grey beneath it to show its source.

Khali caught a soft murmur of voices.

The magic was still there, she realized. Still hiding the camp from view.

But somehow, there was a tear in the defenses.

The only question was if they’d be able to step through the spells into the camp unscathed — or if the wards would expel them, or trap them, or alert the hunters to their presence.

She ordered the others to wait in the trees and slunk forward, keeping herself low to the ground and using the shadows of bushes as cover.

Above her, a long cloud drifted over the moon, letting her melt further into the darkness.

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

Khali crept ahead, using the smoke like a compass.

She braced herself for pain, for an unseen wall. For something.

But then she took a step and the slightest shiver of power ran over her.

The view ahead changed.

The camp was there. She was crouched on the edge, shielded by a large stack of firewood. Six small tents, one large one. A smoking fire pit. Piles of gear. A large table.

And there.

A row of silver cages.

She trembled with relief and anticipation.

With a flash of her tail, she summoned her pack. 

The others made quick work of crossing the clearing and stopped at the woodpile, crouching and tensing as they surveyed the enemy camp.

The clearing was silent, two of the tents lit from within and the rest dark. Closer now, she could smell eleven humans.

The mage must have been one of them, but she couldn’t pinpoint a telltale thrum of fresh magic.

Khali waited until the other had pressed close to speak in a low voice. "Priya, go to the cages first. Everyone else, take a tent in pairs and watch each other’s backs. The dark tents first. We have the element of surprise, but there’s no telling what defenses they have in place."

With a silent nod of agreement, the wolves entered the camp.

Khalida and Lada slipped into the nearest tent and approached the bedroll.

A pair of women slept side by side.

The wolves paused.

There was no honor in killing a defenseless enemy. But the hunters had no honor. And she wouldn’t risk her packmates’ lives for nothing. Khali met Lada’s gaze.

They each slashed a pale throat. The hunters didn’t even have time to fully wake.

Two down.

From outside, a scream pierced the night, turning abruptly into a gurgle.

Then shouting erupted.

Khali cursed internally and she and her mate hurried outside.

The quiet night was gone. In its place, the hunters had flown into action to defend their camp in a flurry of knives and teeth.

Sasha took down a tall, thin man, his paws slamming against his bare chest.

Across the camp, a man and woman circled Priya with curved blades.

Khalida spared one second to look at sealed cages before plunging in.

That would have to wait.

Dimitri slammed against the side of his cage, yowling with rage and desperation.

His pack was here. They were here, and they were fighting.

The wolves were pulling ahead, and Dimitri could smell human blood on the air.

Sasha tackled the poison-thrower with a vicious leap.

Khali and Lada tore into the short, fair-haired man who liked to poke into the cages with sharpened sticks. The same one who’d turned the poker on Dimitri.

Priya escaped the reach of curved blades with only a slice along her flank, regrouping with the others to prowl closer.

There were five humans still fighting. Dread curled in his stomach.

Where was the mage?

Dimitri breathed out a sigh of relief as Max toppled a woman with a bow before she could loose an arrow at Lada.

Max opened his mouth to give the killing blow.

Then Dimitri’s next breath caught in his throat. The broad-shouldered man — the leader — had his sights on Max from a dozen paces away. He lifted a knife and threw it hard.

It sailed true and sank into Max’s chest.

His sister’s mate fell to the earth.

Dimitri barreled into the door of the cage, blinded by the heat of a battle he could not fight.

Again. And again.

And then, just as his shoulder the bars for a fourth time, the door swung open, and he spilled out snarling onto the cold dirt.

Jaime struggled to breathe with Eskender’s full weight pressing into his back.

He focused on the bite of rope at his wrists, the chill of air on the soles of his feet, the rare slip of a soft blanket beneath his stomach, anything but the hot, sticky feeling of the man’s skin against his.

Eskender’s teeth grazed his shoulder.

“Relax, mage,” he said in a low voice, velvet with an undertone of steel. “Or we might have to rethink your morning healing.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jaime whispered, his throat raw and swollen. He made his muscles go limp.

“Mm. Better.”

Yet another sharp pain, and heavy hands tight against his hips.

He swallowed a yelp and turned his mind onto his breathing. In. Out.

Pliant. Quiet. That’s what Eskender wanted tonight. All he could hope for was that the man would finally run out of interest, or at least energy, soon enough to let Jaime steal a little rest before dawn.

Just as Eskender drew back — To do what? He tried not to think ahead or guess, just to breathe. In. Too shallow. In again. Out. — and he was empty and alone for one blissful second, the silence broke.

A scream tore through the camp.

“Shit.”

Eskender pushed himself off the bed, clothes rustling as he dressed and yanked on boots. He cursed again. “Untie those and come put yourself to use. Quickly.”

The man hurried from the tent and Jaime pulled the tendril of magic he’d released to loosen the ropes.

He gingerly slipped his wrists out and slid to the floor, his legs wobbling. The pain made him dizzy, sent his stomach churning, and he could barely keep himself standing with a hand on the center tent pole.

He squeezed his eyes shut long enough to take one more tight breath.

Shouts filled the air, and — growling?

The wolves.

They’d found the camp.

He must have finally ripped through the wards.

Jaime’s heart pounded as he stumbled into his clothes. His muscles screamed in protest as he tugged his shirt over his head and dragged on his trousers.

He wouldn’t defend the hunters. He wouldn’t.

If Jaime refused to fight the wolves, but the wolves lost anyway...

Hoping for his death would be too optimistic.

But he wasn’t going to raise his magic against a wolf ever again, no matter the cost.

He took a careful step toward the flaps of the tent, then staggered back.

A wave crashed over him, icy cold and fiery hot all at once, sending him to his knees. The collar around his neck tightened and burned. He gasped, fingers digging into the thin rug.

Then as quickly as it had come, the sensation vanished.

The collar loosened.

And something about it was...

He reached a trembling hand up and touched the buckle. Nothing happened.

Jaime held his breath, his heart in his throat, and slowly undid the collar.

It fell into his hand as easily as a scrap from Jakob’s coat.

He stared at the runes carved into the leather. In all these years, he’d never actually seen it. Rarely even stomached the scorching pain it meant to touch it. He’d caught glimpses in reflections on puddles when he’d been able to make himself look, but... In the beginning, they’d put it on when he was unconscious.

It looked so innocuous. Just a slip of black.

He closed his eyes and sent his awareness outward.

His magic was there. Untethered. Weak and uncertain, but his again.

He opened his eyes and the collar burst into flame. He dropped it onto the ground and let it burn to ash.

Jaime could feel just that simple spell drain away at the magical pool inside him. He steadied himself.

He was no good like this. He wouldn’t get far enough away from camp before the pain became too much.

Wasting no more power than necessary, he healed the very worst of his injuries.

The pain lessened, but so did the reserves of magic.

Relieved, he stood up straighter and reached outward.

Think. What next?

The cages. They had to go.

He seized the enchantments in his mind and prepared to pull, then he stopped.

Within the farthest cage, the silver wolf’s heartbeat was slowing to a crawl, her breaths shallow and too far apart.

No. No. Not after she’d held on for so long.

He pushed a wave of magic into her, willing her life force to strengthen.

It was enough to send him back to his knees, but after a moment he felt her stand and shake her coat.

He smiled.

Then he grabbed the enchantments sealing the cages, and pulled.

The spells, layered with so many weeks of reinforcements, resisted at first. Jaime summoned one more burst of power and dragged at them until they crumpled like wet paper.

Jaime sagged in relief.

They were free.

If he hadn’t already been on the ground, he would have collapsed as a wall of fatigue hit him.

His vision went dark, his body reeling at the unfamiliar strain.

The hunters hadn’t called on more than a trickle of his power in months, and they’d kept it under tight control. He’d tried to do too much with his magic too quickly.

But it was worth it.

When he could see again, he used the tent pole to pull himself upright and staggered toward the entrance. He might have enough left to tip the scales in the wolves’ favor, if he was careful.

He didn’t realize until he stopped before the edge of the tent that the camp had gone quiet again.

Just as he raised his hand, the flap lifted and a rush of cold air blew inside.

A tall, dark-skinned woman stood in the doorway, the full moon glowing behind her.

Jaime’s eyes widened, but before he could speak, the black wolf appeared at her side.

The wolf snarled, his muzzle dripping with blood.

The woman touched the wolf’s neck. “That’s the mage?”

The wolf let out a long growl.

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but in a flash, the woman had seized him and spun him around. A blade pressed hard into his throat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

She pulled him backwards. They cleared the confines of the tent and the woman turned, steering them toward the center of camp.

Jaime’s stomach flipped.

Bodies littered the camp. Smith, Tulio, Finnegan.

Eskender.

It didn’t feel like a triumph, not like releasing the wolves had.

There was a hint of relief, but mostly he just felt numb.

He stumbled and the blade bit into his skin, sending beads of hot blood rolling down his neck.

“You found the mage?” a man asked.

“Cowering in his tent,” the woman holding him snarled.

The man spat on the ground at Jaime’s feet.

“Bastard.”

Jaime’s gaze settled where a new fire was burning.

Three figures knelt in the orange glow.

Emelina. Jakob. Quinn.

They were bound and gagged.

Wolves sat guarding them, and he let out a breath when he spotted the silver wolf among them.

When they were a few paces away, the black wolf halted and the woman stopped with him.

The woman forced Jaime to his knees. She withdrew the blade from his neck and pressed it between his shoulder blades instead.

“Don’t try anything.”

He didn’t move.

“Untie them,” she directed.

The man who’d spat at Jaime moved to loosen the others’ bonds. As soon as they were ungagged, Quinn let loose a barrage of curses until the man cuffed the back of his head.

Emelina shouted. “Mage! Do something.”

The woman pushed the blade harder into Jaime’s back.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Jakob said, rubbing his wrists and jerking his head at Jaime’s bare neck. “Nothing stopping him from saving his own hide now.”

Emelina shot Jaime a deadly look.

“Silence!”

The woman behind Jaime spoke in a hard voice. “You fought bravely, so we’ll give you a head start. You have five minutes to run. After that, my hunters follow.”

For a moment, none of them moved.

Then the black wolf growled.

The humans got to their feet and ran, stumbling as they fled from the clearing. Quinn went one way and Jakob and Emelina another.

“Who do you want to chase them?” the man murmured to the woman.

“Whoever wants to go.” The woman stepped back from Jaime. “The pack deserves a chase.”

They didn’t stand a chance of outrunning the wolf pack, Jaime knew. Not one of them.

And him least of all.

He hoped that in the heat of their vengeance, the wolves would at least kill them quickly.

He managed to stand and took a few steps.

Then pain exploded at his wrist.

“Wait.”

The black wolf had seized him, his teeth digging in.

The woman circled around to stand in front of him, eyes blazing.

“Not. You.”

Chapter Text

“Not. You.”

Jaime’s heart sank and he quickly dropped back to his knees. Hot blood welled up from a handful of punctures at his wrist and he resisted the urge to pull his hand away from the wolf’s jaws.

The woman slipped the point of her dagger under Jaime’s chin and lifted it, forcing him to meet her eyes. They were dark brown, almost black, and held nothing but hate.

“You’re the mage,” she said.

It wasn’t a question, but he gave a tiny nod anyway.

She slid the dagger down to the hollow of his neck. A muscle in her arm twitched and he flinched.

“Wait,” he rasped, a sudden flash of the white and tawny wolves going through his mind. They’d died alone, afraid, separated from their families. “Your packmates. Their... their pelts. They didn’t sell them yet, I know where—”

The woman backhanded him, sending him pitching to one side. The wolf let go of his wrist and his shoulder hit the ground hard.

“You would use them as a bargaining chip for your own skin.” Her words were low, deadly. “You disgust me.”

Jaime pushed himself back to kneel, his bleeding wrist tucked behind his back.

“Khali,” a redheaded woman murmured. “Ivan and Beka...”

There was a pause.

Then the woman let out a short breath. Her voice was tired. “Where are they, hunter?”

Jaime turned his head back toward the center of camp. “There’s a chest in the big tent. Press the star rune to open it.”

“Go,” Khali directed the redheaded woman. Then she turned to the other wolves. “You too.”

They raced into the dark trees on soundless paws.

Khali reached down and pulled Jaime up by one arm, steering him to the other side of the bonfire. In the orange glow, he spotted a white wolf laying motionless. A long knife protruded from his ribs.

Eskender’s knife.

“Heal him,” Khali ordered, shoving toward the prone wolf. “Heal him, then take the rest of your gods-forsaken spells off Dimitri and the others.”

Jaime knelt beside the wolf. Its bloodstained chest rose and fell in a short, fluttering motion.

Still alive, but not for long.

He extended his uninjured hand and sent a tiny stream of magic in to probe the injuries.

He grimaced to himself. It wasn’t good.

One lung was entirely collapsed, and he’d lost an alarming amount of blood. Miraculously, the knife had missed his heart.

Jaime pulled back, hand already shaking.

He was drained. He knew it. But he couldn’t let another wolf die in this camp.

The woman stood behind him. “Well?”

Jaime nodded.

She crouched and reached to grab the knife and he threw out a hand to block her.

“Wait!”

Khali shot him a murderous look.

“Just... slowly. As I heal. Or he’ll bleed out.”

She sat on her heels, her jaw set, and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the blade.

“If you hurt him,” she said, “you will wish you’d never been born.”

He almost snorted at that. Too late.

But instead, he simply nodded again.

Then Jaime closed his eyes and searched for the magic.

His internal stores were all but gone, nothing but drops left. He looked outward, sending his awareness through the trees and earth and sky. Reaching for latent magic.

It was there, but it shied away from his presence like a deer from a hunter.

The magic hadn’t liked being bound, hadn’t liked killing its own creatures.

Jaime was surprised it hadn’t rejected him entirely.

Please. Help me make this right.

He let out a slow exhale.

Please.

It was notoriously difficult to pull on magic outside oneself at all, let alone channel it. Difficult, and dangerous. Jaime had only tried to call on nature’s magic once in his time with the hunters. He still had the scar from where he’d hit his head as he fell unconscious.

But it wasn’t impossible. He knew that.

A memory he hadn’t thought of in years flooded his mind. His mother, curls loose and feet bare, spinning in a clearing with moonlight beaming down on her. She was smiling, shimmering sparks of magic swimming around her fingers like snowflakes as she sang to the trees.

“Magic is all around us, querido,” she’d said, lifting him up to run his stubby fingers through a silver spark. “We just need to make friends with it.”

Jaime felt tears springing to the corners of his eyes. He pressed his bleeding hand into the earth.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

After a long moment, his palm began to tingle.

Magic began to collect like dew on morning grass, streaming into him gradually until he could draw it into a ball of power and press it into the wolf.

“Now,” he said to the woman. “Slowly.”

She started to pull out the blade as Jaime willed skin to knit closed, blood vessels to rejoin, a lung to seal and fill with air. The magic gave him enough to push strength into the wolf’s body until a faint glow swam through his fur.

Finally, the blade was out. The lull broke.

And the wolf took a full breath.

Jaime gasped, his empty stomach heaving. Black crept in at the edges of his vision and he threw out his good hand to keep himself from falling onto his side.

“Max?” the woman asked, laying a palm on the wolf’s head.

The wolf nuzzled her and got to his feet. He stumbled once but stayed upright.

Jaime sent out a silent thanks.

The wolf was healed, and Jaime was still alive. That was more than he’d hoped for.

The redheaded woman stepped into the firelight, a neatly-wrapped bundle held carefully in both arms. The black wolf (Dmitri?) stood at her side.

“We found them,” she told Khali, her cheeks wet. “And others.”

Khali reached out and brushed her fingers over the bundle. “We’ll give them all the proper rites.”

Jaime closed his eyes in relief.

A rustling from the trees made him tense.

The other wolves were back.

“Is it done?” Khali asked.

Silence.

Nausea welled up in his stomach again.

He really was the only one left.

Khali sighed. “Good.”

She turned her attention back to Jaime.

“Now remove the spells.”

Jaime opened his eyes to stare at the ground, too tired to do anything but say, “I can’t.”

She took a sharp step closer to him.

“I can’t,” Jaime said, shoulders tightening. “I have no power left.”

“If you’re lying...”

“I’m not.” He lifted his head so she could see his face. “I swear. If I start dismantling them and can’t finish, they’ll be trapped forever.”

Khali looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then she crossed her arms. “How long, then?”

He looked at her blankly.

“How long. Until you can do it.”

He blinked. “I... Two days, I think. Maybe three.”

Her mouth twisted. “Fine.”

She nodded to a light brown wolf, who shifted into a petite woman with an elaborate braid. The woman disappeared into the shadows, then came back with a tightly-coiled rope he recognized from the hunters’ stores.

Jaime looked from her to the leader. “What...”

“You’re coming with us,” Khali said. “Where we can keep an eye on you. And as soon as you have your power back, you’ll free them. Understand?”

The short woman pulled his hands behind his back and tied them. He swallowed back a cry of pain. She pulled him to his feet and handed the end of the rope to Khali.

Jaime bit his tongue. He didn’t have a choice, he knew that. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t wantto release the wolves. He did. What came after he’d served that purpose was another matter entirely.

He still hoped they’d make it quick.

She jerked the rope. “Understand, hunter?”

“Yes,” he said. “I understand.”

As they moved through the forest, Dmitri stayed so close to Max that they were walking in tandem, his entire flank pressed against his friend’s. The silver wolf hung near Dimitri in turn, not touching but never more than a tail’s length away.

He still couldn’t smell them, couldn’t access their bond, couldn’t feel the comforting hum of pack.

But they were together.

And he wasn’t going to let anything separate him from his pack again.

Lada and Khali stayed in human form, Lada safeguarding the bundle and Khali holding the rope while the mage trudged ahead of her.

Dimitri let his eyes burn into the mage’s back, wishing they could tear his throat out and be done with it.

He didn’t deserve such an easy death, but at least then Dimitri wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

They were back in Hearthstone territory when Khali called for Priya, bending to murmur instructions that no one else could hear.

Priya took off running in the direction of the camp. Despite her smaller size, she was one of their fastest.

Dimitri stumbled on a rock and Max’s steps faltered along with his, both of them taking a moment to find their footing again. Dried red still stained Max’s chest, reminding Dimitri how close they’d come to losing him.

The silver wolf came close enough to sniff Dimitri’s muzzle questioningly, letting out a soft whine.

He nudged her gently.

Somehow, she’d regained her strength when she escaped the cages, a far cry from the limp pile of fur she’d been for the past few days.

He wondered, distantly, if she even had a pack to go back to. The brown wolf, too, for that matter. The large wolf had stayed in a loose orbit of the Hearthstone wolves, but hadn’t done more than give Khali a submissive bow before retreating into his own space.

They’d know more once the spells were finally broken. Dimitri reminded himself that that was the only reason the mage was still breathing.

Khali brought them to a halt by the river, a place where a wide inlet stretched beneath a canopy of trees. The sky above them was barely starting to lighten in anticipation of dawn.

Dimitri sank to the ground, giving his trembling limbs a break.

Priya stepped out of the trees. She carried a bulging satchel, and she shifted to reach inside and hand Khali a lump of fabric.

“Thank you,” Khali said. She loosened the mage’s bindings and Dimitri stiffened.

The mage did too, turning slowly to face the alpha. His face still held that careless blankness that he’d had whenever he approached the wolves.

Dimitri felt a growl building, trapped inside his throat.

“You stink of blood and hunters and cruel magic,” Khali spat. “Before you come into our camp, wash.”

The mage didn’t move.

Khali thrust the clothes into his hands. “Now.”

Dimitri rose, prowling closer in case the hunter tried anything.

Finally, the mage spoke. “May I... have some privacy?”

Khali scowled at him.

The mage dropped his head. “Please, alpha.”

Dimitri’s fur stood up along his back.

Stepping closer, Khalida used one finger to tip the mage’s head back up. The mage flinched, but Khali spoke quietly. “Never speak that word again. You are not one of us.”

The mage nodded.

Khali flicked her finger beneath his chin as she pulled back. “Running is pointless. You know that, right?”

It was. Dimitri would make sure of it.

“I know.”

“Then take your privacy. And the soap. You have five minutes.”

The mage took his first few steps backward, then turned and disappeared into the sheltered inlet.

Dmitri looked up at his alpha, whining.

“He won’t escape,” she said firmly.

Then she looked at the others, her eyes glittering. “Everyone come here, please.”

She sank to the ground, her knife held loosely in one hand. Lada moved close to lean against her mate, resting her head on Khali’s shoulder.

The rest of them moved in and sat in a semi-circle before them. Dimitri eased himself down carefully, his side and leg still aching with untreated wounds.

Khali directed her attention to the outsiders first.

“My name is Khalida, alpha of the Hearthstone pack.” She pressed her palm over her heart. “If you will swear that my people will come to no harm at your hands, you have my word that you will be safe with us, and may stay until you wish to leave.”

The silver wolf crept forward on her belly, ears pressed back. Khalida extended a hand and the young wolf nosed her fingers.

The brown wolf inclined his head again, solemn.

“Good. Once you’re free from this curse, we can discuss everything.” Khali sighed. “For now, we will rest until the mage can undo his handiwork.”

There was a deep growl from the brown wolf.

Khali ran a hand through her hair, looking worn. “Priya, did you bring it?”

“Yes.” Priya passed the satchel over. “The paper Elli left with it has instructions.”

Dmitri watched as Khalida pulled out a strip of inky black leather marked by pale gold runes.

The mage collar.

He’d forgotten about it, but now he recalled the day when Elli had returned from their travels with it, face grim as they explained what it was. And why the pack might someday need it.

Khali slipped the collar into the pocket of her coat.

“Sasha, Lada, when I give the signal, restrain the mage. Max and Dimitri, be careful, but be ready in case we need backup. I doubt he will go quietly, and we need to get it on while his powers are still weak.”

Dimitri felt a fierce rush of satisfaction at the prospect of the mage getting a taste of what it was like to be trapped, to have his powers controlled by someone else.

And it took the edge off of his fear of bringing the hunter into their camp.

Khali peered at the scrap of paper Elli had left, and Dimitri looked at the sky.

A breeze picked up, ruffling through Dimitri’s fur and rustling through the last of the autumn leaves that still clung to the trees. He closed his eyes for a moment. It still felt like there were walls pressing in around him. But there weren't. He was free — and he repeated the words like a mantra.

He was out of the cage.

Out of the hunters' camp.

Soon, he would be able to shift again, to breathe easily.

He wasn’t the prisoner anymore.

He was free.

Chapter Text

The second he was shielded by the copse of trees, Jaime’s knees gave out, sending him to land hard on the riverbank.

He bent over, burying his face in his good hand, cradling the bundle and his bad hand in his lap.

Heat flared in his chest, swelling and pushing until a sob burst from him against his will. The rush of water swallowed the cut-off sound.

There was too much hammering inside him, shock and relief and anger and fear and a stupid, stupid strand of hope that wouldn’t die.

He’d freed the wolves. The hunters were dead. The silver wolf was safe. The other wolves were safe. The collar was gone. He was a captive. He was alive — his magic was free.

But he’d done so many horrible things, captured and killed so many wolves, been broken down into nothing more than a tool and a plaything and he’d stopped even fighting back and he’d done it willingly. There was blood on his hands, more than just the remnants of the black wolf’s bite. He didn’t deserve to hope, didn’t even know if he deserved to live, and it would be foolish to think he’d get the option, anyway.

His breaths started to come faster and shorter until he shook himself.

There wasn’t time to sort through the mess of feelings, wasn’t time to break down.

He had five minutes to wash, which was more than he’d expected to be given.

And he wanted to erase the feeling of the hunters’ hands from his body.

Jaime’s shoulders trembled with the effort of holding himself together. Eyes shut tight, he forced a breath through tight lungs, then another, until the tide of emotion contracted into a heavy pressure at the pit of his stomach.

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Jaime lifted his head to look at the river. It stretched wide, whitecaps rushing down the far side. Closer to him, the water swirled around rocks to flow into a languid pool, dark and gently swirling.

He could do this.

He had the chance to hold his own magic and maybe do something good with it, even if the only thing he ever got to do was restore and heal the wolves before... Well, he had a strong suspicion of what waited for him on the other side of that task.

But until that moment came, he’d do what he’d always done.

Keep going.

Pushing off the ground, Jaime cast a quick look over his shoulder to make sure there were no eyes, glowing or otherwise, peering at him through the trees.

It wasn’t like privacy was a luxury he had much of with the hunters. But something about bathing in front of the alpha’s — Khalida’s — hard gaze or the black wolf’s glinting snarl made his skin prickle.

Satisfied he was alone, Jaime struggled through peeling off his shirt and trousers with one hand. Healing his cracked ribs into mild bruises had been a saving grace, but the rest of him still hurt, and his right wrist was swelling and leaving sluggish red drops wherever he moved.

If nothing else, being clean would help stave off infection.

Jaime braced himself and plunged to the center of the water.

The cold made him gasp, sending goosebumps rolling across his skin.

He set the soap and little rag on a rock and pinched his nose before dunking himself under.

When he emerged, his teeth chattered as he used his good hand to lather and scrub everywhere. The frigid water left him clumsy and numb, but it dulled the ache in his wrist, too, so he left it submerged while he washed.

He went lightly over his open wounds, gritting his teeth when he had to rinse a cut along his thigh.

Wherever he wasn’t notably injured, he scrubbed hard. Washing away the smoke, the blood, the murkiness of Eskender’s tent. He scrubbed until his skin was pink and raw, stinging in the cold.

An owl hooted in the distance, startling him from his task.

How much time had passed?

Quickly, he rubbed his sudsy fingertips through his hair.

Dunking himself one more time, Jaime stumbled his way to the shore.

His feet ached with a different kind of pain, pins and needles in his toes as the cold pre-dawn air hit his wet flesh. He used the other cloth to pat himself dry, then tied it tight around his wrist and pulled the knot with his teeth.

The punctures weren’t horribly deep, and the rag didn’t immediately start turning red. That was something.

Jaime unrolled the bundle to find a shirt, trousers, and underclothes. His eyebrows rose.

The grey light revealed frayed edges and heavily mended patches and seams, but they were softer and thicker than anything he’d worn in many winters.

He wriggled into the clothes, taking a moment to run his finger along the long arm of the sleeve. It fell to his fingers, shielding his hands. The fabric was a pale brown, lighter than the pants, and had been well made. A tiny smile flitted to his face.

One of the patches had a little border of flowers embroidered on it. His little sister had been learning embroidery, and she’d put flowers and swirls onto every bit of fabric she could get her hands on. Including that old coat he’d been wearing when —

“Hunter.” The voice came sharply from the other side of the trees. “Time’s up.”

Jaime snapped to attention. “C-coming.”

He rolled his own clothes into a tight knot and retrieved the soap, steadied himself, then ducked around a thin pine to return to the wolves.

Khalida shifted her weight from one foot to the other, willing herself not to let her hand twitch toward the strap in her pocket.

The mage emerged from the trees, eyeing them warily as he stepped closer to the pack.

He was shaking like a leaf, water still dripping from his hair and fingers. Khalida brushed away a flicker of pity.

He didn’t look like much of a threat right now. Not with his thin frame and ragged curls and scraped feet. But he was, and perhaps it was his own unheeded conscience or the cruel magic itself that had eaten away at him to leave him so weak and wasted. He was a vicious, powerful mage who was responsible for the deaths of some of her own packmates, among many others.

She wouldn’t let herself forget it.

“Here.” Priya pulled the last bundle from her satchel, passing the hunter a pair of old boots and darned socks.

His eyes went large as he accepted the shoes, and he stared at them for a long moment.

His gaze darted to Khalida.

He’d probably expected them to treat their prisoners like animals, particularly since the hunters viewed them as little more than beasts themselves. But they were better than that.

She gave a short nod, her temper flaring again.

“Thank you,” the hunter said quietly.

He pulled the socks and shoes on awkwardly and straightened, worrying his lip between his teeth. All eyes were fixed on him.

Subtle, her pack was not.

She sighed internally.

Khalida jerked her head sideways. “Time to go.”

The hunter approached, looking cautiously at the pile of rope that sat at her feet.

When he was within arm’s distance, she sent a mental signal to the other wolves. Now.

Sasha and Lada came up behind the mage and grabbed both of his arms.

He went stiff, color draining from his face. “You can t-t-tie me up if you need to, I won’t—”

She pulled the collar from her coat.

For a second, he was frozen in place.

Then he started to thrash. “No. No, please!” He fought against the hands on his arms, pulling and twisting as they pushed him to his knees and held him fast.

A jolt of wild magic flared out from him, white and bright.

The others flinched back, but it was barely strong enough to make the hair on Khalida’s arms stand up.

The mage looked up at her with wide eyes. “No, wait, I — I didn’t do that on purpose, I’m sorry.”

Dimitri had flattened himself to the ground, poised to pounce, pupils blown with fear but ready to strike the mage down if needed.

Khalida set her jaw.

This was exactly why she had to act quickly. Once his strength was restored, who knew what he’d be able to do to her pack? Khalida stretched the collar and reached down.

The mage’s words spilled out faster. “No, don’t. Please, please. I won’t hurt anyone. I swear. Please. I’ll take the spells off.”

Khalida tried to get her arm around his neck but he jerked back, head whipping to one side.

“No! Just kill me. Please don’t do this.”

“Priya,” Khalida gritted out. “Hold his head.”

She took the man’s hair in one hand, holding him steady while the mage continued pleading.

Khalida wrapped the collar around his neck and secured it. Extending one finger and transforming it into a claw, she made the tiniest of cuts on his cheek and swiped the fresh blood over the runes.

The symbols glowed, lighting up into a brilliant gold that shone across the clearing as a tingle of power went up her arms.

Then it was gone.

The collar faded to black again.

In an instant, the mage stopped fighting.

He sagged forward and fell quiet. Tears flowed silently down his face, and when the others let go of him, he didn’t move.

Khalida felt unsteady on her feet, and pushed down the urge to vomit. On the one hand, it sent a stab of relief and vindication to see the creature who’d tormented so many left humbled, captured, bound to the will of her pack.

On the other hand, she had never been able to abide the sight of someone crying.

She took a step away from the man, wiping her hands on her trousers.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

Khalida swallowed.

“I can’t risk my pack, mage. And...” She turned away. “Perhaps you should have considered how this might feel before you dedicated your life to doing the same thing to our kind.”

When they stepped over the boundaries of Hearthstone Village, Dimitri barely glanced up at Khalida before bolting to the cabins.

He would apologize to his alpha later, when he could actually speak.

He needed to see his sister.

The early morning sun glinted off her chimes and the laundry was hung out front the same as always. He skidded to a halt at the door and scratched the wood.

After an agonizingly long moment, the door swung open.

Mirza’s jaw dropped and she fell to her knees, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Dimitri!”

Dimitri pressed his nose into her hair, nuzzling her braid and unable to do anything more than whine and wag his tail.

“Uncle Dima?”

Nadia and Alexei appeared behind Mirza, still rumpled from sleep. They joined the hug, fingers buried in his coat.

Nadia’s hand brushed his side and he flinched.

“You’re hurt,” she said, her brow furrowed. “That looks infected, Dima. You’ll need to go straight to Ash. And... why aren’t you changing back?”

Dimitri whined again, this time pained. He wriggled from their grasp and nudged Mirza’s side, looking to where the rest of the group had paused on the outskirts of the village.

The mage stood flanked by the wolves, the collar stark in the daylight.

“Stay here, you two,” Mirza said, straightening. “I’ll be back.”

The teens grumbled, but they looked uneasy, slipping back into the doorway as Mirza and Dimitri made their way to Khalida.

Max broke from his position to embrace his wife, holding her tight and whispering something for only her to hear.

Dimitri’s claws dug into the earth.

It had been too close.

He looked to Khalida, silently pleading with her to explain — and to make the world make sense again.

“Mirza,” Khalida greeted quietly.

Mirza didn’t let go of Max’s hand as they moved closer. “What's wrong, Khali? Why can't I feel him?”

“Some of the enchantments are still intact.” Khalida gestured toward the hunter. “Their mage ran out of magic. So we had to bring him along.”

Mirza’s eyes flashed.

Khalida sighed.

“I know. Just... Trust me. It will be easier to say this once. Lada and I will secure the hunter. The rest of you, gather everyone to the Hollow. And as soon as we’re done, Dimitri and Priya, and anyone else who needs to, I want you in Ash’s care.”

“Should we bring the pups, too?” Mirza asked, frowning.

“The pups too.”

Dimitri looked between the dispersing group and padded after Khalida and Lada.

He didn’t want the mage out of his sight until the man was safely contained. Not with his family so nearby.

Khalida didn’t say anything when he came up beside her. Even without the pack bond, even without words, she’d always understood him.

They made their way to the alpha’s cabin.

“If you harm anyone in this camp, mage,” Khalida said, steering the man with a hand clamped on his shoulder, “magic or no, you will not like the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

He didn’t respond.

Dimitri growled and Khalida shook the man.

“Hunter.”

“Yes,” the mage whispered. “I understand.”

Lada opened the door and they stepped into the cabin. Dimitri knew it smelled like spices and wool, even if he couldn’t scent it. He’d spent many hours talking here. Planning. Stressing. Drinking. Laughing. 

The alpha’s cabin was larger than most to leave space for such gathering, and Khalida pushed the mage toward the heavy wooden table.

Petyr had crafted it as a wedding gift years ago, working on it within the cabin itself, and it was so wide and heavy that it would never make it out the door.

Dimitri’s skin crawled to see the hunter beside it.

Khalida pulled an extra blanket from a basket and tossed it down.

“Sit.”

The mage sat.

She secured his bound hands to a table leg, leaving the barest hint of slack.

“This is a temporary holding arrangement,” she said. “And it would be in your best interests not to press the limits.”

“I understand.” The mage looked only at the floor.

Dimitri snarled at him.

That he was here in their camp, in their own alpha’s home, while Maya and Yusif would never set foot in Hearthstone again...

He had to turn away to push down the urge to snap his jaws into the mage’s flesh again.

Khalida let out a heavy breath, and Lada set a hand on her mate’s cheek.

“What can I do?”

A tired look passed over the alpha’s face, and she gave a small smile. “Stand by me. And perhaps find me some coffee when we get back.”

Lada kissed Khalida gently. “I can do that.”

“Come,” Khali said, touching Dimitri’s shoulders. “The others will be waiting.”

Chapter Text

Jaime didn’t move a muscle until the three wolves left the cabin. When they shut the door, he was left in semi-darkness, a few cracks of light filtering in between gaps in the curtains.

He scanned his surroundings carefully.

The large table he was bound to sat on one side, with cupboard and shelves lining one wall. A half-drawn curtain separated the other half of the cabin, where a bed and a wardrobe and a heap of blankets stood in shadow.

They hadn’t tied him to the bed, but... If they wanted that, maybe they only wanted him in it during the act itself. Eskender was like that most of the time. Had been like that.

Jaime shifted his weight, scooting backward until he could rest his shoulder and head against the leg of the table.

Fatigue dragged at him like chains and his body throbbed, concentrated in the swollen wrist that strained against the rope.

He couldn’t do anything to defend himself. He had no magic, no weapons, no strength, and... Even if he could, he didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Especially not wolves.

They would do what they wanted with him, whether he liked it or not, and once he’d fixed the other wolves, they’d kill him. It was as simple as that.

His stomach growled, twisting and aching despite the fact that the thought of food made him cringe.

Positioning himself so he could see the door, he closed his eyes.

Some time later, the door opened and startled him from a fitful half-sleep.

The redheaded woman came in, her expression pinched.

Jaime sat upright, keeping his gaze carefully on the floor.

She didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she retrieved a bundle from the other side of the room.

The bundle of pelts, he realized.

He swallowed hard as she trudged past him and closed the door behind herself.

What rites did wolves perform for their dead?

He’d only had access to two books that mentioned wolves. The first was written by the mage Farou Khan, a man who Jaime loathed despite never having met him — and that loathing was in no way diminished by the fact that Khan had been dead for nearly fifteen years. He was the one who’d stumbled upon the magical properties of werewolf pelts and experimented until he’d pioneered the bloody trade of using them for enchantments.

That book, forced upon him by the hunters, had unsurprisingly made no mention of the finer points of wolves' cultural practices.

The other had been in his parents’ library, a rare encyclopaedia of magical knowledge. He remembered spreading it over his lap and flipping through it, running his small fingers gently over the brilliant illustrations of inky Greater Ravens, twisting green quagmire trees, tiny ancient runestones that no one (his mother had told him reverently) had ever been able to translate.

There had been a section about werewolves, complete with moon phases and delicately diagramed transformations and even a recipe for venison stew that the author claimed had been taught to her by a pack in the snowy steppe regions.

Unlike Khan, the author of the encyclopaedia had been a friend to magic.

Jaime wished he could have the book now, pore over it until he had some understanding of what he should expect.

But he couldn’t remember a single word from its passages, and the book had burned along with his home.

He would have to muddle through on his own.

His feet tingled with blood loss, but he didn’t dare shift to a more comfortable position.

Outside, the angle of the light shifted as Jaime allowed himself to drift back to an uneasy sleep.

Footsteps beyond the door made him stiffen.

The door swung open and the alpha stepped in.

Her stony gaze swept over him, cataloguing the intact bonds, then she stepped aside and ushered another person inside.

He had brown hair and a beard. His face was drawn, blue eyes rimmed with red. A redheaded toddler was tied to his chest, her hands curled in his shirt.

He froze when he saw Jaime.

Khalida spoke softly. “Are you sure, Ivan?”

The man paused, then nodded jerkily.

She closed the door and brought Ivan closer.

He stopped an arm’s length from Jaime, his boots just at the edge of Jaime’s vision.

“Look at me,” the man said.

Jaime bit his lip and hesitated.

“Now, mage,” Khalida snapped.

Jaime forced his head up, meeting the man’s glare.

“You killed my wife,” he said, quiet and hard.

A bolt of pain shot through Jaime’s chest. The tawny wolf.

“She was kind, and brave, and she deserved to live.” The man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Jaime’s mouth was dry as sand. He opened it, but Khalida silenced him with a sharp gesture.

Ivan fixed him with a stare again. “You took away my child’s mother. She won’t even remember her face.”

The little girl twisted in the man’s arms, her tiny mouth turned down into a frown at her father’s anguished tone.

Her eyes were a startling green.

(The same shade as Leandro’s had been.)

“Was it worth it, mage?” Ivan asked, even softer. “All that killing, all that evil. Was it worth it?”

All Jaime could do was bow his head. “No. I’m... I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Ivan snapped. “You have no right to be sorry. You may be here in this camp, but once I walk out those doors, I hope to never give you another thought. You’re worth nothing to me. Not even my anger.”

Jaime said nothing.

The man let out a long, shaky breath.

Khalida stepped closer to him and led him from the room, closing the door behind them.

Jaime’s eyes burned.

How many families had been torn apart because of the hunters? Because of him?

Maybe if he’d found a way to evade the collar, or tear through the magic, or free a few wolves... Maybe he could have ended things sooner.

Before he could do more than wipe his cheek on his shoulder, the door opened again.

This time, the redheaded woman entered.

She strode purposefully toward Jaime and he braced himself, shoulders drawing in.

But she simply stopped beside him and set down a plate, then turned on her heel and left.

The plate held a small piece of bread and a slice of meat, with a handful of chopped carrots scattered between them.

Mouth watering, he stared at the food.

He’d done nothing to earn it. And she hadn’t given him the order to eat it — did she even have that authority, or did the alpha hold it alone?

Maybe it was for... after.

He scooted back toward the leg and tore his eyes away from the dish.

He couldn’t change the situation, but at the very least, he’d do everything he could to avoid making their punishments worse.

The room was fully dark when the door opened again. The alpha and the redhaired woman came in, holding a candle that they used to light another by the bedside.

The alpha stepped to Jaime’s side and looked down at the plate.

She made a disgusted sound and picked it up, setting it on the table away from him.

He didn’t budge as the two women closed the curtain and prepared for rest, speaking so softly he couldn’t make out their words.

Apprehension clenched tight in his stomach.

Would they take turns?

Would they keep him bound?

Would they use something as a proxy, or... or...

He still hurt from the last time, and he’d hoped that maybe he wouldn’t have to endure such a thing again. But he understood. The wolves needed their pound of flesh, their reclamation of power after so much hurt, and he was a captive enemy.

The curtain opened and Khalida approached him.

Jaime’s breaths came quiet and shallow.

She untied the rope from the table and then from his wrists.

He let her drag him to his feet, stumbling as his numb legs filled with pins and needles.

“Careful,” she snapped as she seized his arm.

“Sorry.”

She let him go and picked up the rope and blanket.

Jaime steeled himself.

Maybe, if he was compliant, agreeable, they’d be... gentler.

He kept his eyes down, his posture small. “Where do you want me?”

“Here.”

She pulled him toward the bed and he tried to push his mind somewhere far away from his body.

Then she spread the blanket on the ground at the foot of the bed and pointed.

“Sit.”

Jaime blinked.

They didn’t want him in their bed, then? Perhaps having a hunter where they slept was too low, and the floor would suffice.

He winced at the thought of his back pressed into hard planks.

He sat.

She gestured for his hands and he presented them. She bound them in front of him this time, then secured the rope to the bedpost.

“Don’t try anything,” Khalida warned. “I’m a light sleeper.”

Jaime hazarded a glance up at her face.

She frowned at him.

Right. She liked direct responses.

“I won’t.”

The alpha and her mate climbed into bed, leaving Jaime on the floor.

He stayed still until he heard their breaths even into a slow rhythm.

Maybe they wanted to sleep first, or perhaps they were simply too tired tonight.

Jaime’s senses stayed on high alert for what felt like hours, jerking at every rustle of fabric or light snore.

Finally, his exhaustion won out, and he lay on his side.

If they wanted him, he decided, they’d wake him up one way or another.

When he drifted off, he didn’t dream.

Dimitri curled tight into a corner of the healer’s cabin, tucking his snout under the edge of a blanket.

Ash had spread thick poultice on his side and leg, wrapping it in clean white bandages. He knew it must smell green and spicy, just like he must smell stale and dirty.

The other two wolves lay on cots, already asleep, and Ash himself was mixing bowls of powdered moonflower and sage and clay for the funeral rites.

Dimitri replayed Khalida’s words in his head, the faces of his packmates (Ivan’s face, Beka’s face) stark behind his eyes.

”We brought Dimitri home, but Maya and Yusif have gone to the ancestors.”

”The hunters are gone.

”The mage’s magic may be bound, but he is not safe, and no one is to approach him without my permission.”

”...find use for him... reinforce the camp... come to me...”

"At moonrise tomorrow, we'll perform..."

Keeping his focus on her speech had been a struggle, his attention constantly darting between his pack and the edge of the trees and the cabin where the mage was bound.

The pack had been quiet, grave, sorrowing.

Afterward, many of them had come to greet Dimitri, wanting to assure themselves that he was really there.

He welcomed their touches, grounding him in reality and reaffirming that he was home.

He shifted and pressed his back tighter against the two corners, opening his eyes to scan the room again.

He was so tired, but he dreaded sleeping and waking to find those enchanted bars around him again, to find that it had all been a hopeless dream.

Lost in thought, he scarcely noticed Ash’s approach until the man was crouched beside him.

“Drink this, my friend,” he said quietly. “It will help you sleep.”

Dimitri turned his nose away from the small bowl.

“I’ll keep watch,” Ash promised, his hand gentle on Dimitri’s shoulder. “You need to rest.”

Dimitri whined softly and Ash pushed the bowl closer.

“Drink, Dimitri,” he said.

Finally, Dimitri lapped up the bitter liquid and settled back down with a sigh.

Ash patted his back. “Thank you. I’ll be here when you wake.”

The fuzzy pull of sleep took him quickly, then.

And when he woke, he was still in the cabin, still surrounded by pack, still free.

Jaime woke to the sound of feet hitting the floor.

He jerked upright, heart pounding as he realized it was morning.

The two women readied themselves without acknowledging Jaime, and he said nothing as they made their way from the cabin.

Before long, the alpha returned with a big man who resembled Khalida.

He untied Jaime from the bed and tugged on the rope to get him to rise.

Jaime cast a panicked glance at Khalida.

“Sasha is here to take you to relieve yourself,” she said coolly.

He swallowed.

“Oh. Yes, ma’am.”

He followed Sasha out the door, squinting in the sunlight.

He caught a glimpse of the camp before the man tugged him behind the cabin. A circle of small, neat homes, a large building and a fire, a pen with a pair of goats. A pair of wolf pups ran through a garden before a woman called them back.

Then it was gone as Sasha pulled him toward the treeline.

He reached for Jaime and Jaime went still.

“May I... do it myself, please?” he asked quietly.

Sasha regarded him for a moment, then dropped the rope and stepped back.

Jaime angled his body away and did the job quickly, hating the shake of his hands as he felt the man’s eyes on his back.

“Thank you,” Jaime said, and offered the end of the rope to Sasha.

Without a word, the man led him back into the alpha’s cabin.

Khalida took over, moving Jaime back to his place beside the table. She set a plate with bread and a boiled egg beside him.

“Eat,” she ordered. “You’re here to regain your strength, so I expect you to eat, even if our food isn’t to your tastes.”

Jaime paused. He still hadn’t done anything to earn it. But, he supposed, she was right.

He carefully picked up the bread, waiting to see if she’d slap it away or punish him.

When she stayed still, he took a small bite.

She sat in one of the chairs, resting her elbows on her knees and watching him. “Do you have enough magic to fix them yet?”

Jaime swallowed the food with difficulty.

“I... I can’t feel my magical reserves with the collar on, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed impatiently. “Can you check them if I order it?”

“I think so.”

He didn’t know this collar, didn’t know what specific enchantments or bindings had been placed on it.

“Fine. Check your reserves. But that’s all.”

His awareness opened and he probed at his magic.

It had recovered some from the bone-dry scraps he’d been left with yesterday, but he was still weak.

“Well?”

“I have some power now,” Jaime said slowly. “But not enough.”

She tapped her foot. “How long?”

“I think... maybe a day. It’s hard to say.”

Khalida snapped her fingers and he looked up at her.

She held his eyes.

“Are you being truthful?”

Jaime nodded quickly. “Yes.”

Her mouth twisted. “Fine. We’ll check again tonight, then in the morning. Now eat.”

Dimly, Jaime heard the sounds of the day through the walls. He wondered how many people lived here, how long they’d been cultivating this area. Their infrastructure was far beyond what the hunters had ever attempted. More like the small village his uncle had lived in, if anything.

When he’d finished the food, Khalida set a pitcher of water beside him.

He didn’t reach for it, and she sighed again. “Drink, mage. Do you have to be told everything?”

Cheeks flushing, he picked up the smooth clay pitcher. He drank deeply, pausing just long enough to breathe before downing more. The water was cold and fresh and soothed the pain in his throat. Eskender had not taken any cares through that long night, and Jaime’s voice still rasped.

Jaime set the pitcher down. “Thank you.”

Khalida moved to the cupboards, and a flash of metal disappeared into her pockets. Her mate came into the cabin and the two of them led Jaime back out the door and toward the woods.

His heart hammered again.

Khalida pushed him to sit on a stump. She pulled out a pair of scissors and passed them to the other woman.

Jaime stiffened.

“Is this really necessary, Lada?” she asked her mate.

“These curls are a tragedy,” Lada said, her voice sounding forcibly light as she nudged Khalida’s arm, “and as the pack’s designated hairdresser, I can’t subject myself to looking at them, even on a hunter.”

Khalida rolled her eyes, the first hint of a smile that Jaime had seen playing at her mouth.

Jaime realized what they intended and he bit back a protest.

Memories of the spring hit him hard. The snow had just been starting to melt, and his hair had nearly reached his shoulders, the longest it had ever been. Jeers about the matting of his curls, his inability to wash properly, taunts about his resemblance to a common streetwalking whore. Then rough hands holding him and fists pulling and knives chopping until he was left with nothing but ragged, uneven fuzz and tufts, his scalp bleeding from a half dozen nicks.

He didn’t breathe as Lada stepped in front of him and opened the scissors.

“Hold still,” Khalida ordered.

Jaime obliged.

Lada’s hands brushed over his forehead and she made the first snip.

He waited for pain, but it didn’t come.

Instead, she moved quietly, trimming and running her fingers through his hair to even it out.

The touch brought tears to his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall.

When she was finished, she dusted off his skin and crooked one finger under his chin, tilting his head from side to side to inspect her handiwork.

(So different from the way her mate had done it the day before.)

He held no illusions. She wasn’t being kind for his sake, simply didn't see the need to hurt him as she did her job, but the foreignness of gentle hands struck him to his core.

And his hair had been offensively bad.

He let himself meet her eyes and she raised an eyebrow.

“Much better.”

She stepped back, leaning against Khalida’s shoulder.

“Happy now?” the alpha asked.

“Satisfied, anyway. My eyes won’t bleed when I see him around camp.”

Khalida snorted.

Lada took the rope this time, leading him back toward the house.

It wasn’t until they’d returned him to his place and left him alone that he understood the implications of Lada’s words.

There was no point in grooming a corpse, and she'd said "around camp."

It seemed that, for whatever length of time he was useful, they intended to keep him.

Chapter Text

Jaime laid awake even longer the second night, wondering if a neater haircut would make the difference in the women deciding whether or not to sleep with him.

But they didn’t even speak to him beyond the alpha’s repeated inquiries about his magical reserves.

He told her quietly that they were recovering, but still too weak.

The third day was almost identical to the two before. Jaime went out in the morning with Sasha, then returned to his spot on the ground and ate a small piece of bread and some cheese before laying carefully on his less-bruised side.

(He’d given up on leaning against the leg after a while. He was achy enough without forcing himself to sleep sitting up.)

The pain in his injured wrist was getting to the point where he couldn’t ignore it, and a throbbing heat spread up his arm and down his fingertips, concentrated where the ropes dug in.

Besides the injury, he could tell the extra rest was benefitting his body and magic, which had been stretched to the brink in the past week.

But, at the same time, the situation reminded him too much of his first days with the hunters to be really restful. Every moment was unknown, and he was completely at their mercy.

Not to mention the fact that the wolves had a reason to actively hate him already, whereas the hunters had simply been hellbent on breaking him and shaping him into a tool of their liking.

But there were ways that it was better, too. (So far, at least.)

He wasn’t floundering to learn a new language. He was properly clothed. They hadn’t asked him to do anything bad with his magic. No one had touched him.

And, if he was being honest with himself, at this point he was already used to the wrongness of having his magic restrained. Had been accustomed to it for so long that it felt normal, even. The first time...

It had been like losing a limb, or having his eyes put out, then being pushed underwater and told to swim.

It had been all he could do to function.

Now it just made him feel empty, disconnected. Trapped, maybe. But it wasn’t unbearable.

So Jaime knew that the situation could be much worse. The pack could be making his life one of nonstop misery. Right now, they weren’t.

For the time being, he would try not to think ahead any farther than that.

The pack stood vigil over the fresh graves until the moon reached its zenith and started a slow descent down the sky.

Khalida placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder and passed him a palmful of moonflower seeds.

He scattered them on Maya’s grave, Anya asleep on his shoulder. Tears trailed down his cheeks to fall in her hair.

Max scattered the seeds on his father’s grave. Yusif’s mate was too frail to leave her bed, and Max’s face bore the strain of worrying for one parent and mourning the other.

Khalida took the flowers to the graves they’d dug for the other wolves whose pelts they’d recovered. Five of them, their lives stolen and their fur prepared like common deer. One was silvery like the young wolf who’d come home with them, and Khalida let the girl shake the last of the bag over that grave.

The wolf stepped back with a soft keening sound.

Khalida knelt at the edge of the gravesite and touched the moon painted on her forehead.

Her chest filled with emotion that she had to fight down. It had been barely six moons since the sickness had taken precious pack members from them. Now this.

Dimitri came to stand beside her, pressing against her shoulder.

She swallowed past a thick lump in her throat.

Then she spoke the final words. “May the moon guide your souls to rest with the ancestors in peace. You are not forgotten.”

A hush stretched over the rise as clear light fell on the overturned earth.

Several of the pups were sniffling into their parents’ coats.

Khalida stood slowly.

“Get some sleep, everyone,” she said quietly. “Tomorrow will be a rest day. If anyone needs to talk, please come see me.”

“And if you need a sleeping draught,” Ash added, “I’ve just restocked.”

“Thank you.” Khalida nodded. “Good night.”

The pack dispersed to their homes. Khalida waited until everyone was gone to take Lada’s hand and make their way back to the cabin. Every step took conscious effort, and her shoulders bowed with an unseen weight.

It was dark and quiet when they stepped inside. Lada was crying silently, tears smearing the clay marks on her cheeks.

Khalida felt moisture on her own face and didn’t move to wipe it away.

The mage looked at them, eyes wide and face pale. He met Khalida’s gaze for a heartbeat, his mouth parting and then snapping shut. He looked away.

Lada tugged Khali gently to the kitchen.

Her mate wet a cloth and cleaned her face, then took her hand and kissed it.

“It wasn’t your fault, my love,” she whispered.

Khali bowed her head.

“It wasn’t,” Lada insisted.

“It... That doesn’t matter now,” Khali murmured. “What matters is making sure everyone else is safe.”

“And we will.” Lada pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll be okay.”

Khali nodded, blinking hard. She took the cloth and wiped Lada’s face in turn, carefully cleaning away the crescent moon.

When she was finished, she kissed Lada’s forehead.

“I love you.”

Lada gave a small smile. “I love you, too.”

They made their way to the bedroom. As Khalida pulled the curtains closed, she looked at the hunter, hunched beside the table.

“Sleep tonight, mage,” she said, “but when I ask you in the morning, you’d better be ready.”

Dimitri sat beside the silver wolf and the brown wolf, watching the mage warily.

They’d pushed the table and chairs aside to clear space in Khali’s cabin so they could complete the process in private.

Lada and Ash sat in two of the chairs and Khalida stood beside the mage, a knife held in one hand.

The hunter was staring at the floor with glassy eyes, his wrists bound before him.

“Are you ready?” Khalida asked the wolves.

When they nodded, she sliced the ropes.

He flexed his hands once, wincing, then dropped them to his sides.

Dimitri shivered with anticipation.

“Are you ready?” Khali asked the hunter, voice sharper.

The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She took a step closer to him. “If you try anything, if you hurt them—”

“I won’t,” the hunter said quickly. He paled, one foot lifting and setting down again. “Well, I mean, I... the...”

“What?” Khali snapped.

The hunter looked at the wolves. “The spells will be... uncomfortable. They might hurt. It’s... It’s dark magic, and it’s strong, and it doesn’t like being taken apart. I’m sorry. But I will finish as quickly as I can.”

Khali’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “There’s no way to prevent the pain?”

The hunter shook his head.

Khali sighed. “Very well. Who would like to go first?”

Dimitri stepped forward at once.

He wasn’t going to let anyone else be the mage’s test subject.

Something like the ghost of a smile flitted to Khali’s face. “I shouldn’t have even asked.”

She gestured. “Go ahead, hunter.”

The hunter hesitated.

“What?”

“It would be better if I healed his wounds first,” he said quietly. “The magic might affect them.”

“Do it, then.”

The hunter shifted his weight.

“Now, hunter.”

“I need to be touching him.” The man looked anywhere but at them. “For the healing part.”

Khali nodded at Dimitri, who forced himself to step forward until he was within arm’s reach of the hunter. It took every ounce of his willpower to hold still while the man knelt and slowly reached to touch his fingertips to Dimitri’s shoulder.

Dimitri braced himself.

The mage closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. After a moment, a rush of warmth flooded into Dimitri. His wounds closed up and the ache in his neck faded. A pain in his ribs vanished. Every wound he’d been nursing since his time with the hunters disappeared, and even a few old ones that had troubled him for longer. It felt strange, and it itched. But it didn’t hurt.

Pulling back, the hunter nodded. “I’m finished.”

Dimitri took several large steps away and sat, staring the hunter down.

“Get on with it, then,” Khali said, her fingers tapping nervously against her leg.

The mage stood, wobbling from side to side. For a moment, it looked like he might topple over, and Dimitri instinctively moved to catch him before remembering himself.

Finally the hunte rstraightened and closed his eyes. He lifted his hands, his sleeves coming to his fingertips.

Dimitri held his breath and time seemed to freeze.

Before being captured by the hunters, Dimitri had seen magic performed once, just once, when he’d been no more than four or five. He had fuzzy memories of passing through a town with Mirza on a festival day, and a man had been standing on an upturned crate, making specters of colorful birds fly around him in a whirl.

That had been pretty magic. Harmless.

Nothing like what the mage had inflicted on him.

He tensed as the mage traced a rune in the air, leaving a faint trail of shimmering silver behind.

“Impedimentum removere.”

A cutting chill ran over Dimitri, then he took a deep breath.

He could smell the familiar woodsy, spicy scent of Khali’s cabin. His eyes widened.

The mage traced another rune.

“Crinem apertum.”

This time, a bolt of power shot through his head, tingling and hot.

He staggered as the awareness of the pack bond settled back into place.

He could feel his family, warm and close. It sent tears welling in the corners of his eyes. 

But the mage wasn’t finished. 

He traced several runes in rapid succession, then made a motion with both hands like tearing a hole in fabric.

“Lupum liberum.”

Dimitri yelped at the unexpected pain. His skin was on fire, then cold, then prickling and twisting as magic peeled away from him.

The mage repeated the motions, sweat beading at his temples.

“Lupum liberum.”

Dimitri collapsed onto his belly, breathing hard. His lungs burned. His limbs seized and his jaw clenched itself shut. His breath flooded from his lungs. This was worse than when the spells had been cast in the first place.

He whined and pawed at his face.

Mirza's distinct maternal worry flooded him. He tried to send reassurance back, but another wave of pain sent him reeling. 

“Hominum revelare. Finio. Finio.”

The pain shifted, turning into a pressure that sent him squirming. He felt his limbs lengthen and change, his fur disappearing. Never had a transformation felt like this, slow and agonizing like he was being sliced open.

He howled.

Then it was done.

Silence filled the cabin.

Panting, Dimitri opened his eyes to see a hand before his face.

His fingers moved, his thumb wiggled.

The wood was rough under his bare skin without a layer of fur.

He ran his tongue over his teeth.

He was human.

Dimitri let his head fall against the floor, a broken sound that was half laugh and half sob bursting from his throat.

Something draped over him. He looked up to see Ash spreading a blanket across his form, and Dimitri realized he was naked.

His cheeks flushed and he tucked the blanket around himself, pushing himself to stand. His legs trembled and Ash caught his elbow.

“How do you feel?”

Dimitri opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his scratchy throat.

He coughed twice.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll go fetch clothes for the three of you,” the healer said, hurrying from the cabin.

Dimitri ran a hand through his hair and turned to Khalida. She gave him a tired smile.

“Welcome back.”

Dimitri smiled in return, the movement of his face feeling strangely foreign. “Good to be back.”

The mage stood rigid at Khalida’s side, his hands clenched into fists.

Dimitri’s smile melted away and he scowled at the top of the mage’s bowed head.

He must not have liked seeing his handiwork dismantled.

Khalida directed the mage to continue, and the brown wolf stepped forward for healing.

Watching the others go through the same process was even harder than enduring it himself. Dimitri bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood as the brown wolf writhed and finally transformed, leaving a brown-skinned man who was even taller than Sasha.

The silver wolf crept toward the mage and sat before him, her ears flat.

Dimitri’s muscles tensed, ready to strike if anything went wrong.

The mage reached out and brushed his fingers over the side of her face.

He murmured something and the wolf shook her head.

Then he began the process of removing the spells, and Dimitri found himself clutching Lada’s hand as the small wolf’s strangled cries cut through the air.

Ash had her covered with a blanket the second she shifted, revealing a slight young woman with silvery-blonde hair. She shook like a leaf, tears rolling down her face.

“Are you alright?” the mage asked, reaching toward her with a trembling hand.

Ash drew her away, one arm around her shoulders.

“Why don’t you dress, dear.” He guided her behind the curtain and pressed a stack of clothes into her hands.

The mage stayed kneeling on the floor, hands tucked into his lap. He swayed to one side.

Dimitri sagged back against the cupboards.

It was done. The hunters had no more hold on their pack.

The tall man stepped toward Khalida and bowed. He spoke in a deep, sharply accented voice. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Please know that my offer still stands. You are welcome to stay with us.”

The man gave a solemn nod. “I truly appreciate your offer, Alpha Khalida, but I have wandered alone for a long time, and I find that it suits me.”

Khalida inclined her head. “I understand. We will ensure you have what you need for your journey, and you may stay as long as you need to prepare.”

“You are most generous.”

The tall man went to change after the young girl emerged.

She looked at the mage, then crept to stand near Dimitri.

“What’s your name?” Khalida asked gently.

The girl’s eyes were almost teal, and she looked at Khali for a moment before shaking her head.

Khalida’s brow furrowed. “You... don’t have one?”

The girl shook her head again. She moved toward Khalida and reached out a hand. When Khalida offered hers, she turned it over and traced something on her palm.

Khalida watched carefully.

“Opal?”

The girl nodded.

“Are you unable to speak?” Ash asked, setting a hand on the girl’s back.

She flinched. Then nodded again.

“Is this another spell, mage?” Khalida asked.

The man’s head snapped up. “No. No, I...”

The girl made a gesture with one hand, shaking her head. Her shoulders hunched in and she slowly opened her mouth.

Where her tongue should have been, there was an empty space.

Lada gasped, clutching Dimitri’s hand tighter.

“Stars above,” Khalida breathed. “Did the hunters do this?”

They turned to the mage. Dimitri’s blood began to boil, but the mage’s face was white and drawn.

“We didn’t.” His voice was hoarse. “I swear.”

The girl shook her head hard. She used her free hand to gesture over her shoulder.

“It happened before?” Ash asked.

She nodded.

“I see.” Khalida covered Opal’s hand with both of hers. “I’m so sorry. No harm will come to you here, Opal. Do you... Do you have anywhere else to go? Anyone waiting for you?”

Opal shook her head and looked away.

Dimitri’s heart ached.

“You can stay with us, if you like. We have children your age. You don’t have to decide now, but you would be more than welcome to join Hearthstone Pack.”

Opal’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she gave a tiny nod.

“I’d like all three of you to come to the infirmary,” Ash said. “You need extra rest, and I’d feel better if I could monitor you for a day or so.”

Khalida released Opal’s hand and nodded. “That’s a good idea. Please, go with Ash. We can discuss arrangements later.”

Dimitri held his clothes loosely under one arm. Now that the rush of being in his human body had worn off, his head was clearing. And the concerns he’d been unable to voice in his cursed state came flooding back.

“I need to dress,” he said. “And then I’d like to speak with you, Khali.”

“Very well. But I expect you in the infirmary by lunchtime.”

Ash clucked his tongue. “I’ll send Nadia to hunt you down if you’re late.”

He ushered Opal and the tall man out and Dimitri retreated behind the curtain to clothe himself. His hands felt awkward and stiff after weeks spent as paws, trapped in a cage with nothing to do but pace.

It took longer than he would have liked, but he got everything on and did up the buttons.

A hand ran through his hair told him it had grown, falling to his cheekbones. He brushed it away from his face.

When he went back into the room, only Khalida and the mage remained. She’d dragged the table and chairs back into place and sat with her fingers pressed to her temples.

The hunter hadn’t moved from his knees, and his eyes were closed.

Dimitri gave him a wide berth and sat beside Khalida.

“Khali,” he said quietly.

“Mmm.”

“Before I say anything else, I want you to know that this wasn’t your fault.”

She opened one eye. “You and Lada have been comparing notes.”

“It’s true,” Dimitri insisted. “You couldn’t have stopped it. Not without keeping us all locked inside the village.”

Khali sighed. “I suppose I know that. But it wasn’t your fault either, Dima. I know you. I know you’ve been torturing yourself all this time.”

Something cold flooded his chest and he fixed his eyes on the grain of the table.

“You were thinking of your packmates’ needs,” Khali said, setting a hand on his. “And none of us expected a snare so deep in our territory.”

“No. No, we didn’t.” The cold drained away, replaced by hot anger. “Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Khalida sat up straighter, her expression shifting into that of an alpha conversing with her second. “Yes?”

“How can you be thinking of keeping him here? Keeping him alive? After all he’s done.” Dimitri gestured sharply. “Without him, Maya and Yusif would be home right now. He’s a hunter, Khali. He shouldn’t be here.”

Khali let him finish, then spread both hands on the table. “I hear your concerns, and you’re right. But it’s also true that he can be of use to us. To the pack.”

“And what if he hurts the pack?” Dimitri’s breathing picked up and he stood. “What if he finds a way to destroy us right under our noses?”

“If he so much as lifts a finger against a member of this pack, he will die.” Khalida’s voice was hard. “I won’t tolerate even one infraction.”

She looked up at him, her eyebrows pulled together. “But I have to think of the big picture. We’re not as strong as we were. There aren't as many of us, and we're vulnerable. Weak. Magic can make the camp stronger, help us replenish and rebuild. Winter is coming, and I fear we won’t make it through unscathed as we are."

Her eyes were pained. "It's not an easy decision. But I have to protect us. With his powers under our command, we can make sure everyone is safe. I... Dima, I don't want to lose anyone else. I can't."

Dimitri dropped back into his chair.

He couldn’t argue with that. And they both knew it.

The fear and wrongness wouldn't leave him, though, and he pressed a hand over his eyes. 

“Mage,” Khalida said.

The man didn’t respond.

“Mage.”

He startled, then his head lifted.

“Yes?”

“Tell me how the collar affects your powers. Be specific.”

The mage looked between Dimitri and Khalida, then averted his eyes again.

“The collar cuts magic off completely from my control or awareness,” he said tonelessly. “I can’t access it at all without a direct order from someone who..."

He trailed off.

Khali sat up straighter. "Who, what, mage?"

"I didn't see a runestone," the mage continued quietly. "So... I assume that specific people can be keyed into the collar's enchantments. They're the only ones who can unbind my-my magic. When a command is given, I can only access magic for the specified task. And... Some collars have rules built into them, or they can be added. If broken, there are consequences.”

“Does this collar have rules like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you tell us how to create them?”

The man was staring at the floor. “Most likely.”

“Good.” Khali stood. “How much power do you have right now? Check.”

The mage was silent for a moment. “Very little, ma’am.”

“Enough to light the fire?”

“Yes, ma’am. It should be.”

“Do it, then.”

The mage traced a rune and murmured, “Ignis ad vitem.”

Flames sprung to life in the small hearth.

She turned to Dimitri. “Are you satisfied?”

Dimitri ran a hand over his face. “I suppose. Just... Give him to me. Let me be the one in charge of him, Khali. Please.”

Khali leaned one hip against the table. “What about the hunt?”

“Lada can take over for now.” Dimitri pointed at the fire. “He’ll need constant supervision, and someone to direct the work around camp. Ivan won’t do it.”

Sighing, Khali extended a hand to Dimitri and pulled him up. “You’re right. Very well, Dima. But you come to me immediately if it becomes too much.”

“I will.”

She squeezed his hand. “Now off to the infirmary.”

Dimitri gave a wan smile. “Don’t worry, I don’t want Ash after my head. But I have a few hours. I’d like to stop at home first.”

Khali embraced him, then stepped back and nodded firmly.

“I trust you, Dima. We can make this work.”

Jaime struggled to keep his steps from flagging or weaving as he walked with Dimitri to a cabin across the village. His head spun and his skin felt hot and sensitive all over. He longed for the cool of the river and a private place to sleep.

Dimitri kept a dogged pace, not looking at Jaime.

The man hadn’t bound him again, instead clamping a hand around his bicep and steering him toward his home.

It should have been fear filling him. But it was just a sense of resignation.

Khalida and Lada obviously loved each other, and he’d decided that, perhaps, they had no taste for men, even as a form of staking their claim.

It made sense that they’d entrust that job to someone else along with the task of making use of Jaime’s magic.

His hatred for Jaime was palpable, so Jaime harbored no hopes of the experience being gentle. He’d simply have to get through it, and hope it didn’t become a recurring one.

The man opened his door and pushed Jaime inside. Jaime stumbled, nearly falling to the floor. He caught himself on a chair and stood, fighting a wave of dizziness to stay upright.

Dimitri’s dwelling was smaller than the alpha’s cabin, furnished simply with a bed and a chest and a narrow table. A bookshelf hung beside the bed with a long knife strung beneath it. There was a storage loft in the rafters and a neat pair of windows on two of the walls.

“Let me be clear, mage,” Dimitri said. “I don’t want you in my home. But this is the only way I’ll be able to sleep at night.”

Jaime hesitated. Did he want direct responses like Khalida? He tried to think if he’d seen anything to indicate this, but his brain was sluggish and foggy.

“I understand,” he ventured.

Dimitri turned to face him, his face stony. “You will stay with me at all times, unless I specifically direct you to do otherwise. You will not speak to any other members of the pack besides me and Khalida unless we tell you to. You will use your magic to complete the projects that Khalida and I decide on, and that is all you will do. You will do as I say without question or complaint. Is that understood?”

Jaime gave a tiny nod. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Don’t call me sir. Don’t call me anything.”

“Yes, s—I understand.”

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sharp breath.

Jaime’s gaze strayed to the bed.

He wanted to get it over with so he could stop waiting and wondering.

When Dimitri went to fill a glass of water, Jaime staggered his way to the bed and sat on the end of it. He thought about taking off his shirt, but couldn’t make himself go that far.

Dimitri turned back and his expression contorted.

“What are you doing?”

“I—”

“You won’t be sleeping there.” He crossed the room in three long steps. “You’ll be sleeping up there, where I can—”

He grabbed Jaime’s wrist to drag him off the bed.

Jaime let out an involuntary cry of pain.

Dimitri dropped Jaime’s arm and his eyes narrowed.

Jaime tucked his wrist behind his back. He could feel his pulse in his ears.

“Show me. Now.”

Slowly, Jaime extended his arm again.

Dimitri rolled up the sleeve, revealing the makeshift bandage Jaime had made from the cloth. It was dirty and fraying where the rope had been, and yellow and red stains dotted the fabric.

Hissing between his teeth, Dimitri untied the cloth and peeled it away.

Jaime stifled a whimper as dried blood and half-hardened scabs tore away with it.

His hand and wrist were an angry red, swollen and hot to the touch. The punctures from Dimitri’s teeth oozed.

Dimitri swore.

Jaime cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“Heal yourself,” Dimitri ordered.

Jaime felt for the well of magic. He swallowed. “I... I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“Then we’re both going to Ash. You’re no use to us without a hand.”

He took Jaime’s arm again and led him from the cabin. Jaime’s foot caught on the threshold and he tripped. Only Dimitri’s grap kept him from tumbling to the ground.

Jaime focused on keeping up as they crossed the camp. Inside the infirmary, smells of green herbs and soap and clean fabric struck him as painfully familiar.

“Dimitri,” Ash said, glancing up before returning his attention to his workbench. “I thought for certain I’d have to track you down. Come, have a seat.”

“I’m fine,” Dimitri said. He pushed Jaime forward. “The mage has been hiding an injury.”

Jaime opened his mouth to protest, but closed it quickly. Dimitri wasn’t wrong.

Ash turned, frowning as he approached Jaime.

Jaime held perfectly still, forcing himself not to breathe.

“Let me see.”

The man was just shorter than Jaime, with grey hair and a lined face and brown eyes that seemed very kind when he looked at other people. When he looked at Jaime, they were just probing.

He waited, one eyebrow lifted.

Jaime raised his arm.

Ash let out a displeased sound, taking Jaime’s hand and turning it over gently.

“How long ago did this happen?”

Jaime looked over to Dimitri, eyes wide.

Dimitri scowled. “You can talk to the healer, mage.”

Jaime cleared his throat. “Three days.”

“And you did nothing to treat it?”

Jaime’s cheeks flushed. “I... I washed it in the river, sir. And wrapped it.”

Ash’s eyebrows knit together. “I see. I noticed your wrists were bound for several days.”

“We didn’t know he was injured,” Dimitri said, tone defensive. “He didn’t say anything.”

“I thought you knew,” Jaime said, puzzled.

Dimitri paused, then his mouth twisted into a frown. “Oh. It was me.”

Ash gave Dimitri a look that Jaime couldn’t read.

“He was trying to escape! And it’s not like I had hands at the time. He’s the enemy, Ash.”

“I know,” Ash said mildly. “But all the same. Come sit, mage.”

Jaime followed Ash to a bed beside one where Opal was asleep under a pile of blankets.

He didn’t dare look at Dimitri, but he prayed silently that Ash wouldn’t antagonize him. That would only make things worse when Jaime returned to his cabin.

Ash lay a hand on Jaime’s head. “You’re feverish. Any dizziness or confusion?”

Jaime nodded reluctantly.

"Any vomiting?"

Jaime shook his head.

“Hmm. I suspect the early onset of sepsis. Fortunately, it's nothing I haven't seen before.”

Dimitri stood an arm’s length away, but Ash gestured at the other side of the room.

“Fetch me a bowl of water and some rags.”

The healer retrieved a tray and stacked it with supplies, setting it down beside Jaime and handing him a small wooden cup.

“Drink this.”

Jaime took the cup but paused. It smelled like feverfew and willow and something he couldn’t place.

“For pain, and to help fight the infection.”

Jaime drained the cup and handed it back.

“Your injury doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hunter,” Ash said quietly. “But it does make you my patient. I’ll treat your wound like I would any other.”

“Thank you, sir. I understand.”

When Dimitri returned with the water, Ash poured in a bottle of something sharp-smelling and set Jaime’s hand in the middle of the basin.

It stung, but the cold felt good.

Jaime let the healer do his work, watching as he cleaned away the dried blood and pus and checked each puncture. His hands were steady as he applied a layer of poultice and honey.

“So,” Ash said, starting to bandage his wrist, “you’re from Del Mar.”

Jaime’s head snapped up. “How did you know?”

“I studied at the Imperial university.” Ash secured the fabric and inspected his work. “My first roommate was from Del Mar. So was one of the professors.”

“Oh.” Jaime let Ash set his arm down. The skin tingled from the cleaning and treatment, but the pain had already faded.

The healer passed him another cup of something and Jaime drank it. “Do you have family there?”

Jaime looked at his lap. “No. Not now.”

Ash stacked everything back on his tray and stepped over to his workbench. He was quiet for a moment before asking another question.

“And do your family members share your... proclivities?”

Jaime’s fingers twined themselves in the blanket. “I’m sorry, sir. What is proclivities?”

Ash turned back, leaning against his table. “Are they be proud of your work with the hunters? With the wolves?”

The question shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

He thought of his mother in the woods, his siblings laughing and feeding bits of meat to stray cats, his father tenderly bandaging the local shepherd boy even when he couldn’t pay.

A lump rose in his throat, and he dropped the healer’s gaze.

“No, sir. They would not be proud.”

Ash didn’t say anything else for a long time.

He replaced everything on his shelves, then checked Dimitri over.

Finally, he sighed.

“I’d like you both to stay until tomorrow morning.”

Dimitri looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded.

“And I want you to rest, Dimitri. Even if I have to spoon feed you a sleeping draught.”

Jaime noted the dark circles that looked like bruises beneath the man’s eyes, and thought he would probably be able to sleep without the draught.

“Fine,” Dimitri said, then stood and gathered something from a chest.

He approached Jaime with a length of rope.

“Lay down.”

Jaime stared at him.

“Lay down, mage.”

Jaime laid down.

His heart hammered.

Dimitri tied his good hand to the headboard, tugging to ensure he had no room to get free.

A tiny part of Jaime’s brain that still knew rational thought said that it was only a security measure. It had to be.

But the rest of him began to panic, the sensation of being on a soft bed with his arm restrained sending all his senses on alert. His breath came faster and he felt nausea rising.

He forced himself to meet Dimitri’s eyes.

“Don’t do it in front of Opal,” he whispered, his throat tight. “Please. If... I know I have no right to ask anything, but please. Even if she’s asleep. Not in front of a child.”

Dimitri’s face pinched in confusion and disgust. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh.” Ash stood. “Oh.”

He took a pair of scissors from his pocket and cut the rope.

Jaime couldn’t stop a tear from leaking out of the corner of one eye. Relieved that they would not go that far, at least. He braced himself for them to force him from the bed to a more convenient location.

Ash tossed the rope aside and gently pulled Jaime back into a sitting position.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri demanded.

Ash leaned close and spoke into Dimitri’s ear for a long moment.

Dimitri’s expression went through several rapid changes.

Finally, his eyes widened. He stood perfectly still.

"You thought we... I was going to rape you?"

Jaime's heart leapt to his throat and he hesitated before giving a small nod. 

Dimitri let out a strangled sound. 

Ash turned back to Jaime.

“No one is going to touch you in that way against your will,” he said calmly. “We don’t condone such things here, not among our pack and not even for our worst enemies. Right, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s hands were fists at his sides, and Jaime stiffened.

But Dimitri just spoke in a fierce voice. “We would never allow it. I would never allow it, let alone... You don’t need to fear that from me.”

Jaime looked between them, his mouth dry.

“The only reason I want you to stay is so that I can monitor your symptoms,” Ash said. “And I want Dimitri to stay so that I can see him sleeping with my own two eyes. There will be nothing like that taking place, I assure you.”

“Same in the cabin,” Dimitri said roughly. “Same everywhere. We’re not monsters, mage. Whatever you may think of us. We aren't like you.”

Jaime’s eyes burned and he nodded. “I... I understand.”

“It would be in your best interest to sleep,” Ash said, resuming his crisp healer’s tone. “But if you’d like to sit quietly for a while, that’s fine too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dimitri sank onto the bed beside him. “You’ll watch him?”

Ash nodded.

Dimitri laid down, turning his back on Jaime.

Jaime drew his knees to his chest and traced the pattern of the blanket with his eyes.

After a while, Dimitri’s breaths evened out.

Opal stirred briefly and Ash checked her over, giving her a small cup of chamomile tea and waiting until she fell back asleep.

Jaime let himself scan the room instead, examining the herbs hanging to dry and the bottles and boxes and jars. It was well-stocked, even if he didn’t have some of the plants Jaime had seen in the lower valley.

Ash finished cleaning the used cups and made his way to Jaime’s bedside.

Jaime quickly dropped his eyes back to the blanket.

“What’s your name?” Ash asked, voice quiet.

Jaime looked up, surprised.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ash said. “But I’d like to know.”

He drew his knees tighter to his chest and bit his lip.

Then he whispered, “Jaime.”

Chapter Text

Jaime startled awake to a muffled sound, his head lifting from his knees. An ache in his neck and shoulders told him he’d been asleep in the awkward position for some time.

He looked around for the source of the noise.

Dimitri was still sleeping, his side rising and falling evenly.

Ash had fallen asleep, too, his chin resting on his chest where he sat at his table.

Jaime frowned. Then another stifled sob drew his gaze to the bed on his other side.

A mound of blankets covered the young wolf, but it was trembling, and he heard a sniffle.

Jaime frowned.

He lowered his legs to the ground.

“Opal?”

The blankets stopped moving. After a moment, she peeled the layers back, her face emerging. Her blue eyes were shot with red and her skin was splotchy. Jaime ached to go to her.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, then slid out from under her pile of blankets and tiptoed to his bed. Fingers twisting in her sweater, she hovered uncertainly.

Jaime glanced around, hesitated, then patted the bed beside him.

She sat.

“I’m sorry, Opal,” he said again, looking at his own hands in his lap. “I... I was a coward, and I wish I’d stopped everything before you were taken. I’m so sorry I hurt you. You can be as angry at me as you need to, hate me as much as you want. I... I'm sorry that I’m here as a reminder. You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you.”

Opal scooted closer until her arm was pressing against Jaime’s. She looked up at him sideways.

Her eyes didn’t hold anger. Just sadness.

Jaime tentatively reached with his good hand to squeeze her knee.

She gave a little smile.

“Who was the wolf with you?” he asked softly.

She bit her lip in thought, then mimed rocking a baby.

“Your mother?”

Opal nodded.

Jaime closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry that she’s gone. I wish I could bring her back. The hunters... they said she fought back, tried to free you from the net. I think she loved you very much.”

Opal sniffled again. This time, she rested her head against Jaime’s shoulder.

He went still, his eyes wide.

She turned her face into his sleeve and he carefully wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders.

Her tears were silent, her body shaking ever so slightly.

Jaime rubbed tiny circles on her arm.

After a while, her crying subsided and she let out a shuddery breath.

She sat up and looked up at him. She pointed at him, then made a questioning gesture.

Jaime frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Opal’s eyebrows drew together. She reached out and traced O-P-A-L on his leg and pointed to herself, then pointed to Jaime again.

“Oh.” He ventured a small smile. “I’m Jaime.”

She mouthed the name and returned his smile.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Opal tapped his hand in a steady rhythm, counting silently.

“Thirteen?”

Opal nodded. She raised one eyebrow at him.

“I’m twenty. I think.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“Time got... a little blurry for me for a couple of years when I was around your age,” he said, lifting one shoulder. “But twenty is my best guess.”

Opal gave a solemn nod.

Jaime swallowed and bit his lip. He wanted to ask, why are you here? Why don’t you hate me?

But he knew she wouldn’t be able answer something so complex with makeshift gestures. And he didn’t know if he was ready to hear the answer.

They sat in silence, broken only by Ash’s light snores. Finally, Jaime gestured to her messy hair.

“May I?”

Opal turned her head.

He combed his fingers through her blonde waves gently, working his way to where they fell past her shoulders. Once he’d removed all the tangles, he awkwardly got his other fingers moving enough to form a loose braid.

She produced a bit of string from her pocket and he tied the end.

Jaime used his sleeve to wipe under her eyes.

Opal smiled at him, mouthing thank you.

“Your hair is very pretty. It looks a lot like your fur.”

She smiled bigger.

Then she looked around the room and scooted closer to him.

She beckoned with one finger and leaned down. He hunched closer too, curious.

Opal held out her hand, palm up, and squinted in concentration.

A little ball of golden light appeared.

Jaime gasped.

He sat up straight and looked around, taking her hand and closing her fingers.

Opal made a quiet noise and tugged back, looking hurt.

Jaime held a finger to his lips and waited.

No one stirred.

He took her hand again, gently this time.

“You have magic?” he breathed.

Opal nodded, her brows still knit together.

“It’s just... It’s not safe,” he said, voice cracking. “You can’t let anyone here see you. Not anyone. Not even for a second. Promise me. Please.”

Opal looked down.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her fingers. “Magic is beautiful. It’s wonderful that you have it. But it makes things dangerous, too.”

She reached up to tap the collar. Jaime flinched back.

Opal pointed at the collar again, then gestured over her shoulder, pointed at her eyes, and mimed shooting a bow.

Jaime considered this for a moment. Then his cheeks heated.

“Oh. You noticed, then.”

Opal pressed her lips together and patted his hand.

Jaime let out a silent exhalse.

“Is... Is your magic the reason someone...” He winced. “Your tongue?”

Opal grimaced and nodded.

“Can I ask who?”

She made a series of motions that he squinted at.

Her nose wrinkled and she tried once more, this time finishing with something that he interpreted as “top.”

He frowned. “Mm. Your... alpha?”

Opal made an affirmative noise.

Jaime shook his head. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

She looked downcast, then gestured.

Mother. Me. Run away.

“I see.” Jaime put an arm around her shoulders again. “I think that this pack will be kind to you, but still, don’t let them know you have magic. Okay?”

She sighed and nodded.

“I... I don’t have any power here, but I’ll do everything I can to help you and protect you. I promise.”

Opal leaned into him.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she started to breathe slower.

Behind them, there was a thud of boots on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri snapped. He came around Jaime’s bed and grabbed his arm, jerking him off the bed and away from Opal. “Don’t touch her.”

He pushed Jaime another step back. “Opal, don’t go near the mage. He’s dangerous.”

Jaime quickly positioned himself between them. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

Opal stood, scowling at Dimitri, and made a series of heated motions. Jaime widened his eyes at her and shook his head.

She crossed her arms.

“What’s going on?” Ash asked.

“I thought you were going to watch him,” Dimitri said, gritting his teeth.

“I apologize.” Ash stepped over. “I must have dozed off. Is anyone hurt?”

Opal gestured to herself impatiently, still scowling.

“Good.” Ash laid a hand on Opal’s forehead. “Opal, dear, your body temperature is still low. Let’s get you back under the blankets.”

Dimitri turned to Jaime. “Can you heal yourself now?”

Jaime checked his magic reserves, surprised to find them reasonably restored. “I think so. Yes.”

“Do it, then.”

He hesitated. “May I... heal everything?”

Ash frowned, leaning closer. “You have other injuries?”

Jaime crossed his arms over his stomach. “Just, um. Nothing serious.”

Dimitri nodded. “Go ahead. And then we’re leaving.”

Jaime closed his eyes, feeling for his wounds and drawing power into them. His throat became smooth, his ribs stopped aching, his torn insides closed up, his cut feet healed over. He sent his focus into his wrist, burning away the infection and sealing up the punctures. It stung and tingled, and he winced.

Finally, he opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. He didn’t remember the last time he hadn’t hurt anywhere.

“Thank you,” he told Dimitri.

Ash reached for his hand. “May I see?”

Jaime nodded and let the healer unwrap his wrist. He examined both sides.

“Remarkable.” Ash hummed. “Your method of healing is very unusual. I’d like to see it again sometime.”

Jaime’s mouth went dry.

Ash wouldn’t injure him and force him to heal himself for practice. At least, he didn’t think so. No, he wouldn’t. He seemed to genuinely care about people. And if he let Jaime help him heal someday, that would be... like a dream.

“Yes, sir.”

Dimitri took Jaime’s arm. “Are we cleared to go, Ash?”

Ash sighed. “Yes. You may go. But I don’t want either of you doing anything strenuous tonight, and get a big dinner.”

With a curt nod, Dimitiri pulled Jaime from the infirmary.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Opal, giving her a little smile.

She waved her fingers from under the blanket heap, then the door closed behind them.

Dimitri led them to the biggest building, pausing outside the entrance. “Most of the pack will be inside. Don’t speak to anyone.”

Jaime lowered his head, already dreading going in. “I won’t.”

The communal area was bustling, a large hearth and a kitchen alcove on one side and tables and benches lined up throughout the rest of the room. People sat and ate and talked. One little child was in reddish wolf form, lapping at a bowl of stew while a woman watched with a longsuffering expression. When the door closed, every head turned toward them and the pack went quiet.

Dimitri didn’t acknowledge the awkwardness. Instead, he stepped up to the counter where a short man with freckle-dotted skin was stirring a large pot.

“Hi Petyr.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Nice stew.”

Petyr blinked at Jaime, then nodded. “Yes, it’s um. A new recipe.”

He scooped a large bowl and passed it to Dimitri.

“Another...?”

Dimitri took his bowl. “Yes, please.”

Petyr scooped another bowl and placed a slice of bread in each. He made a face and elbowed someone behind him. “Idris?”

The other man straightened from where he was rummaging in a cupboard. He was taller and amber skinned, his hair pulled up in a messy bun. He blinked at Jaime in exactly the same way as Petyr, amplified by a pair of magnifying glasses. “What, darling? Oh. It’s the hunter. He's smaller than I expected. Hello, Dimitri.”

Dimitri gave a strained smile. “Hi, Idris. Thanks for the stew, Petyr.”

He led Jaime to a table at the far end of the room and sat them down in an empty area. Jaime’s stomach roiled and he stared at the stew.

“Eat, mage,” Dimitri said. “Your work begins tomorrow.”

Jaime picked up the bread woodenly and dipped it in the thick broth.

As he was forcing himself to chew, a man and woman sat on either side of Dimitri. The man was the white wolf who’d been injured at the hunters’ camp, he realized. Max?

Two teenagers plopped down to Jaime’s left, leaving a large space between them.

Dimitri sighed. “Mirza, please. I don’t want you all around the mage.”

Jaime drew his shoulders in, wishing he could melt into the wood grain.

Mirza dipped her bread primly and took a bite. “We’ve been worrying about you for more than a month, Dima. I’m not going to go who knows how long without seeing my baby brother just because you decided to be a martyr and take this on.”

Dimitri somehow managed to look guilty, annoyed, and embarrassed all at the same time.

“Besides,” the girl said, “his powers are bound. Right?”

Dimitri abandoned his spoon in favor of pressing a hand to his face. “That’s true, however—”

Pain burst to life in Jaime’s right leg, sharp and pressing. He startled and jerked, and a sensation like tearing flared white hot.

He let out a small noise and turned in his chair.

The little red wolf who’d been lapping at a bowl of stew had her jaws locked around his calf.

Blood bubbled around her teeth, staining his trousers and sock red.

“Oh,” he said, faintly.

“What?” Dimitri snapped.

He leaned over to peer across the table.

“Rowan!” Mirza cried. She leapt up and grabbed the pup’s shoulders. “Let go, now!”

Rowan growled and dug in tighter.

Jaime cringed, his hands white on the edge of the table.

Dimitri was on his feet, watching Jaime with his hand on his knife.

The room went completely silent.

Another woman appeared beside Mirza and transformed into a red wolf, taking Rowan by the scruff. Rowan’s teeth dragged as the bigger wolf pulled her off, ripping through the top layers of flesh and muscle.

Jaime couldn’t stifle a gasp of pain.

The little wolf squirmed in her mother’s grasp, still growling.

Mirza put her hands on her hips, her face pale. “Rowan, that’s not—”

The pup changed into a little girl with a bloody chin and eyes full of rage. “He’s bad! He set the trap that hurt my mommy and daddy! I know you hurt other wolves, too. I hate you!”

She dissolved into tears.

The red wolf turned back into a woman with the girl’s same eyes and hugged the child close. “I’m sorry she lashed out like that, Dimitri. I didn’t even see her leave the table.”

“I understand, Naomi. She’s upset,” Dimitri said, quietly, then raised his voice. “But no one is to approach the mage without my permission, and no one is to take action of any kind against him. He will pay the price of his crimes by using his magic to strengthen Hearthstone.”

All eyes were on Jaime. He let out a slow breath and lowered his hands into his lap.

His leg throbbed, and the blood streaming down his ankle was starting to make him feel woozy.

The little girl started to cry even harder. “Mama. I didn’t mean to bite someone, even if he’s bad. I was mad. I know I’m not s’posed to, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jaime looked quickly to Dimitri, eyes wide. “May I heal myself?”

Dimitri nodded, his hand still on the knife. “Only healing. Nothing else, mage.”

He bit his lip, then ventured, “can I... heal it all the way?”

Dimitri’s brows knit together. “Obviously.”

Relieved, Jaime steadied his nerves and closed his eyes.

He pushed power through his leg, sending it to knit together blood vessels and tendons and skin. For a young wolf, she had a strong bite.

The pain faded, leaving only phantom aches behind.

When he finished, the connection to his magic snapped shut again. Fatigue pulled at him hard.

“See?” He extended his leg out from under the table. Naomi stiffened at his movement, pulling her daughter closer.

Jaime moved slowly, pulling up his pant leg to show the unbroken flesh. “Good as new. No harm done.”

Rowan’s crying slowed to hiccups and she looked at his leg, her face twisted in conflicting emotions. “I... I guess that’s good.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Dimitri’s hand lower from the blade of his knife.

“Why don’t you use your magic for things like that then, if you can?” Rowan asked reproachfully. “‘Stead of hurting wolves who—who didn’t do anything to you.”

Jaime’s cheeks burned and he looked at his hands.

“I’m going to,” he said quietly. “From now on.”

Sasha came up behind them and scooped Rowan into his arms. He spoke quietly in her ear and she nodded, sniffling and burying her head in his shoulder.

The tall man shot Jaime an unreadable look, then touched Naomi’s shoulder and drew her away.

Mirza sat beside Dimitri again, her hands trembling as she picked up her cup and took a sip.

“I think we’ll be going,” Dimitri said, spooning the last bite of stew into his mouth. “Would you mind clearing up for us, Alexei?”

The teen nodded, pressed close to his sister to leave more space between him and Jaime.

Jaime stood when Dimitri did and fell into step behind him.

As they left the lodge, Jaime realized with a sick start that he’d spoken to Rowan without permission.

His stomach twisted in knots.

It hadn’t even been a day, and he’d broken Dimitri’s first rule.

Chapter Text

Dimitri stepped into his cabin just long enough to down an entire flask of Idris’s questionable moonshine and tuck a second into his vest. His throat burned as he pushed the mage back out his door.

He didn’t want to be fully sober right now.

He led the hunter past the edge of the village proper, down the narrow path that twisted through the scrub oak to the river. The mage’s graceless steps followed at Dimitri’s heels, too loud in the evening hush.

If the man lagged too far behind, Dimitri would steer him again. For now, he didn’t think the mage was going to try running off—and he didn’t particularly want to walk side-by-side.

When Dimitri had offered (demanded, really) to be in charge of the hunter, he hadn’t entirely thought through how much that would affect his interactions with the rest of the pack. But of course it would. Not only because he felt antsy having them too near the mage, but also because they would feel uncomfortable with him in their presence. And Dimitri would have the man at his side day and night for the foreseeable future.

He sighed.

Dimitri didn’t look forward to being on edge and vigilant, stuck with a long series of stilted conversations as he dragged the hunter around camp. And just when he’d gotten his pack back.

But he didn’t want anyone else taking over the job of managing the mage, either.

A pulsing headache was rapidly gaining strength behind his eyes and he rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

The damp-moss, autumn-leaf, cold-air scents filled his lungs, rich and earthy. It smelled like home.

As they neared the river, a gentle bubbling sound joined the crunching of their boots and he picked up the crisp smells of sand and river rock.

The river was slower here, with another wide pool like the one they’d stopped at far below the village. Someone’s attempt at a toy boat was lodged in a tangle of reeds.

Dimitri stopped on the banks and admired the faint pink glow of sunset sky reflecting off the water. He bent and picked up a smooth stone, rolling it between his hands.

He could do this.

(He had to do this.)

It wouldn’t be forever. Just until the pack was safer, stronger, more prepared. They’d lost too many people and weathered too many storms in too short of a time. Dimitri knew that as well as Khalida did, and with magical aid, they could build Hearthstone back up far more quickly.

There was also a bitter sort of justice to the mage being forced to help strengthen the very pack he’d been trying to destroy. Dimitri could recognize that, even if he still didn’t like having the man here.

And maybe, with a little more time, and if the mage behaved himself, the rest of the pack would simply ignore his presence and treat Dimitri the same way they would if the hunter wasn’t around. More or less, anyway.

In the meantime, he’d just... get on with things.

He turned to the mage.

The man was stock still, hands in fists at his sides. His eyes were fixed on the water.

Dimitri crossed his arms. “What?”

The mage let out something like a squeak, then cleared his throat. “What?”

“What is it, hunter?”

The mage shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes and gestured to the water. “Clean your leg up. I don’t want blood tracked into my house.”

The mage blinked at him.

Dimitri sank onto a log halfway up the bank, his tired muscles creaking in protest.

Still hesitating, the mage glanced between the river and Dimitri.

Dimitri rested his elbows on his knees and scowled until the man sidestepped down the bank.

Slowly, the man waded into the pool until the dark water was up to his mid-thighs. He looked back at Dimitri once more, then eased himself down onto a stone, rolled up his trouser leg, and started rubbing at his bloodied calf.

Before long, the mage had cleaned his skin and started on the fabric.

There wasn’t even a scratch on his leg once the blood was gone. Dimitri couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be able to recover from wounds with such ease, let alone take them away from others. At the hunters’ camp, the mage had brought Max back from the very edge of death. With that kind of ability at his fingertips, it was no wonder the mage had felt capable of taking on a vendetta against werewolves.

As the sky turned from pink to orange, Dimitri’s mind wandered a familiar path.

If Dimitri had wielded that power, could he have saved his parents?

No. He would still have been just a child, barely old enough to speak in intelligible sentences.
But he certainly could have saved lives since then.

(He might have even been able to save Andrey.)

Rowan was right. The fact that this man had decided to turn his magic for violence—for profit—instead of healing was the worst kind of greed and cruelty.

He realized how long he’d been sitting silently, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Letting out a quiet breath to steady himself, he looked up.

The mage was still on the stone, head down, his hands red and shaking as he scrubbed frantically at his trouser leg.

“You can stop,” Dimitri said.

“The... The stain won’t come out all the way,” the man said, voice higher than usual. “I’m sorry.”

Dimitri felt the headache returning and let out an impatient grunt. “That doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

The mage rose from the stone, taking exactly two steps before suddenly slipping sideways. He didn’t catch himself in time and plunged beneath the water.

Dimitri stood, taking a step toward the river before he realized what he was doing.

But after a few heartbeat, the mage’s head burst back up from the surface.

He coughed and spat out water, wobbling to his feet.

He and Dimitri just stared at each other for a moment. The man’s eyes were huge as he stood frozen in place save for the quake of his shoulders.

Then Dimitri raised an eyebrow sardonically. “It’s a bit cold for a swim.”

At that, the mage came back to life. He grimaced and splashed his way to the shore. Water sloshed out of his boots and streamed down his sides, leaving puddles on the sand. He stumbled to a halt an arm’s length from Dimitri.

“S-sorry.” He was shaking in earnest now, teeth clicking together. “I was careless.”

Droplets clung to his eyelashes, falling into a pair of eyes that Dimitri had just noticed were a dark hazel. The man looked up at him anxiously, lips already turning purple. Annoyance flared in Dimitri for no reason he could pinpoint.

If he let the mage get hypothermic, Ash would have something to say about it. “Can you dry yourself with magic?”

“I... What?”

Instead of repeating himself, Dimitri raised an eyebrow again. That seemed to be equally effective.

The mage nodded.

“Go ahead. And mend the clothes, if you can do that.”

After a pause, the man traced a trembling rune in the air and murmured a spell. He let out a controlled breath, trailing his hand down like he was pulling a cord. Heat radiated from the mage, strong enough that Dimitri felt it brush against his own skin. Steam rose from the hunter’s body as the water evaporated.

Dimitri watched as the last of the dampness faded, leaving his clothing clean and his hair frizzy.

The man bent and ran his fingers over the torn trousers, then straightened and gave Dimitri a wary look, as if waiting for a blow.

Dimitri’s irritation sparked once more, so he stood and paced a circle around the man, slow and assessing.

The mage’s shoulders tightened.

Dimitri crouched, poking at the trousers, which were now good as new, and stood to face the mage. “Hm. You didn’t use a spell for the mending.”

“I d-don’t need one,” the mage said, still shivering slightly.

“Why not?”

The mage shrugged. “I must have missed my calling as a tailor.”

Dimitri raised both eyebrows this time.

“Did you just... make a joke, mage?”

The man tensed even further.

Dimitri was so, so tired—and Idris’s moonshine had been even more potent than normal. That must have been why he just let out a soft snort instead of snapping.

“Come on. Khalida and I have a long list for you to start on tomorrow.”

They walked in silence back to Dimitri’s cabin. At Dimitri’s command, the mage lit the candles and the small fire, standing at an awkward distance from the hearth. While he did this, Dimitri rummaged in a chest for a few extra blankets.

“Push the ladder over,” he directed.

The mage grabbed the ladder and leaned it against the loft, which was several feet above Dimitri’s head. Tall enough that the mage wouldn’t be able to get down without making a racket, he thought.

“Up.”

Worrying at his lip, the mage turned and scaled the ladder, pressing himself into the side of the loft and waiting for Dimitri to follow.

Dimitri pushed a few things out of the way to clear a space, then spread out one blanket and rolled up another. When he turned back, the mage was tracking him with his eyes, looking more like a rabbit in a thicket than a human.

Dimitri gestured to the makeshift bedroll.

“You’ll sleep here.” He pointed down at his bed. “I’ll sleep down there.”

The mage watched him, knuckles white on his knees.

“You’ll stay up here till morning. I’ll stay down there till morning. No one else is going to come in. No one will touch you.” He gave the mage a pointed look. “But if you try to get down or leave, I will hear you, and then we’ll have to make other arrangements that aren’t nearly so comfortable. Got it?”

The mage nodded, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I mean, I understand. Thank you.”

Dimitri just waved a hand and climbed back down, removing the ladder to rest it against the far wall.

Then he extinguished the candles, shucked off his boots, and collapsed into bed fully clothed.

Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

Exhausted as he was, it still seemed to take him ages to fall asleep. It was his first night back in his own home, his own bed. He shouldn’t still feel the phantom shadows of the mage’s spirits-forsaken cage barring him in.

But he did.

After a while, he rolled onto his side to look up at the man who’d trapped him.

The fading hearth light flickered warm and low in the small space, leaving the loft mostly in darkness.

The mage had shifted the bed to put his back against the wall, the third blanket pulled tight around himself. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was irregular.

Dimitri turned over again and drew his own blanket up to his chin.

If the hunter wanted to waste his chance for rest, that wasn’t Dimitri’s problem.

Jaime’s lungs were on fire.

He couldn’t breathe, his last inhale trapped inside his chest as mindless panic clawed at every fiber of his being.

He needed air.

The salt stung his eyes and he struggled against the arms pinning him under. Hands in his hair shoved his head down deeper, suddenly grasping tight enough to make him take an involuntary gasp.

Icy water flooded his mouth, burning as it went down the wrong way and left him writhing in pain and fear.

Just as black started to creep in at the edge of his mind, they hauled him up.

Cold air hit his skin as he came through the surface. Rocks dug into his knees and he blinked tears from his eyes, choking and coughing to fight to get his breath back. His head spun, turning the night sky and the dark ocean into a spiral before him.

Tulio and Kress held him fast, Tulio forcing him to tip his head up to look at Eskender.

The man stood in front of Jaime, arms crossed, water lapping at his knees.

Jaime clenched his jaw to keep it from chattering.

“Now,” Eskender said, his voice pitched just barely above the sound of Jaime’s ragged breathing. “Let’s try this again. How did the wolf escape?”

Jaime’s throat closed up for a moment and he bit his tongue until he tasted blood.

She had pups inside her. He’d known the second he saw them drag her into camp, her stomach large and her nipples swollen. He’d refused to cast the spells on her until they’d beaten him unconscious twice, then finally threatened to cut the babies from her belly and be done with it.

So he’d tried, but he still couldn’t correctly cast the spell to trap wolves in their fur, despite their repeated lessons with a heavy hand and Khan’s magic book. His magic fizzled and failed to bind the mother wolf. She’d stayed in her wolf form anyway, curled protectively around herself in the cage. Jaime had watched the shadows fall on her with dread in his chest.

But he’d waited, and the others had drunk heavily that night—sinking into a sleep deep enough that Jaime had been able to slip out of the tent, undoing the lock and flinging the door open to let her disappear into the night.

He’d returned to curl in his corner before the sun rose, heart pounding so hard he’d feared it would wake the entire camp. They hadn’t woken for hours, but when they had...

Eskender took a step closer. “Well?”

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Eskender made a tutting sound and touched Jaime’s bleeding, swollen cheek.

“Jaime, Jaime. I thought you knew better than to lie to me by now.”

Jaime didn’t say anything.

Eskender’s mouth turned down.

“Again.”

Jaime jolted awake, chest heaving as he untangled his arms from the blanket. He pushed himself to sit up, taking gulps of air until his head stopped swimming.

Heart pounding, he pushed his focus into his senses.

His hands rested on smooth wooden planks, and the smoky sweetness of an old fire lingered in the air. There was a faint chill, making him shiver from the sweat that beaded at his temples.

He was in the wolves’ camp. No ocean. No Eskender.

He forced himself to breathe deep and slow until the rushing of his pulse faded from his ears.

Jaime let his head thud gently against the wall.

That had been the only time he’d ever been able to free a wolf up until the Hearthstone pack.

After that, the hunters had locked him in the wolf cage for a straight week. And when they let him drag himself from the bars, they’d grimly announced that they’d worked out how to add more restraints to the collar to keep him from meddling with spells.

The hunters had stayed at that harbor town for nearly a year. It was where they gave up the thin facade of kindness they’d maintained for months, finally realizing Jaime would never see eye to eye with their line of work, and took a different approach to conscripting him as their personal mage.

After all, they said, profits would increase if they could apply Khan’s new theory of pelt harvesting, and it was a less messy business if they could keep the wolves trapped magically.

So the veneer of care had vanished, and Jaime had been too weak to resist for long.

It was where he’d first enchanted the cage. Where he’d first succeeded at casting the binding spells. Where he’d first seen a wolf die because of his magic.

As a child, he’d loved the seaside near his home. Now he hoped he’d never have to see the ocean again.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

That was over, he reminded himself. He was still a slave, or at least a prisoner, but he trusted that the wolves wouldn’t ask him to hurt anyone. Particularly not their own kind.

And if they did, he’d find a way to end things first. The pack didn’t seem as meticulous as the hunters, and he wouldn’t become a tool of violence again.

But he hoped that wouldn't become necessary. So far, they seemed... if not kind, at least humane, which was a far cry better than what he was used to. He'd even pushed the boundaries a little yesterday, and nothing bad had come of it.

A whine made Jaime lift his head.

The room below rested in deep shadow, but a sliver of early dawn light fell across Dimitri’s bed. He was a wolf now, thrashing and growling beneath his blankets.

Jaime bit his lip.

The wolf stopped flailing and curled up tight, letting out a whimper.

It seemed Jaime wasn’t the only one having nightmares. And if he had to guess, he would assume that Dimitri’s involved silver-plated bars and a shadowed camp.

Guilt churned in Jaime’s stomach.

“Dimitri,” he said on impulse.

The effect was instant. The wolf sat bolt upright, hackles raised as he around in confusion. After a moment, his eyes flashed up to where Jaime sat.

Jaime felt his cheeks heat up. “Could I please have some water?”

It seemed like the wolf would just stare at him, but after a long pause Dimitri shifted back into human form.

“You want... water?” His tone was flat.

“Please,” Jaime said.

Dimitri’s mouth twisted, but he got off the bed and filled an earthen mug from a pitcher and held it up to the loft. Jaime reached down to take it.

“Thank you.”

Dimitri grunted in response. Pale light filtered in as he pulled aside a curtain. “It’s morning anyway.”

Jaime sipped the water, relishing the coolness. A little thrill went through him at the thought of using his magic for something helpful, something good.

Dimitri changed beneath the shelter of the loft and emerged wearing a coat and a woolen hat. He moved the ladder to rest against the ledge and stepped back.

“Come on, mage.”

Jaime hurried down with his boots under one arm. He sat on the bottom rung to put them on, then smoothed his clothing and ran a hand through his hair. He cast a glance at Dimitri to see if anything else was expected of him.

The man was frowning, but didn’t say anything until Jaime took a careful step away from the ladder.

“There should be a coat in the mending pile. We’ll stop there first.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. I... Thank you.”

“Mm.” Dimitri opened the door to the cabin and gestured out into the light. “Let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

Opal took slow spoonfuls of the broth under Ash’s watchful eye, her back pressed against the wall and her legs buried beneath thick blankets. The warm liquid was mild, tasting of chicken and lemongrass. Her hands clutched the clay bowl awkwardly, fingers clumsy with disuse.

She wasn’t even hungry, was the strange thing. Her stomach hadn’t so much as rumbled in days and days, and the smell of the soft, bland foods Ash had plied her with had made her feel more nauseated than anything.

When she’d grimaced at the bowl of watery oats he’d presented her with the first morning, he’d set it on the bedside table and sat, explaining in his measured voice about the process of getting her body used to food again. Why she needed to eat small amounts regularly, even if she wasn’t hungry, but also take care not to overwhelm her system.

“You’re in remarkably good shape, for what you’ve been through,” he’d said, giving her a little smile. “I wouldn’t have expected you to have this much energy at this stage.”

Opal had ducked her head and taken reluctant bites of the porridge. She knew it was because Jaime had done something before he’d opened the cages. Her life had been slipping, her consciousness drifting as each breath came later and more labored than the last. Even as she watched a group of strange wolves fighting to rescue them, she’d been giving up on her own ability to survive.

Then a warm layer of power had settled over her, pressing into her fur and filling her up with something gentle and humming. It had cleared the fog from her mind, slowed the panicked rabbiting of her heartbeat, sent feeling back into her legs.

When she’d stumbled out from under the shadow of the bars, she’d felt better than she had in days.

Now, without the adrenaline of an escape, the long weeks of confinement with nothing more than drops of water and scraps of jerky were showing their effects. Her limbs felt narrow and frustratingly fragile, and even the small clothes they’d found her hung loose on her shoulders.

Ash said it would take weeks for her to recover, but that he’d be there to help.

She liked Ash.

But she’d like him more if he wasn’t turning a blind eye to Jaime’s situation. Whether he was being willfully ignorant or just dense, she didn’t know.

Jaime had been upset when Dimitri had led him out of the infirmary, had stepped in front of her when Dimitri had gotten angry, had visibly steeled himself not to shrink away from raised hands. Opal knew what that meant.

No one she’d seen here so far seemed like the leaders of her old pack—but they were being cruel all the same.

Even if Dimitri and Ash didn’t know about the hunters keeping Jaime collared, how could they think he meant the pack any harm when he was so careful and so scared?

She wanted to shout, to say something. But she couldn’t, and Jaime didn’t seem to want anything said, anyway.

Frustration welled up, hot and twisting as she stared down at the transparent liquid in her hands.

Something her mother had said to her once echoed through her mind: people saw what they expected to see, what they wanted to see.

She sighed and tipped the rest of the soup into her mouth, swallowing with a wince as the heat that lingered at the bottom scalded her throat.

“Slowly,” the healer reminded.

Opal gave him a sheepish look and passed the empty bowl over.

When he left her bedside, she shifted into her wolf and tucked her nose under her tail.

All those months alone, she and her mother had slept as wolves every night, pressed together in whatever shelter they’d managed to find.

Opal wished she could’ve curled up with her mother one more time.

But she was watching over Opal still, along with her grandparents and their other ancestors. She’d promised she would, and Opal thought she had felt the brush of her mother’s nose against her side when she’d scattered moonflower seeds on the fresh grave.

A pang shot through Opal’s chest and she muffled a whine.

Her mother would’ve been glad Opal was alive, that she’d made it out—and she would’ve taken her firmly by the shoulders, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and told her she couldn’t give up now.

Opal knew that much. But she still longed to ask her mother’s advice about the Hearthstone wolves, about her magic, about her future.

She’d felt the severing of a bond twice now. Once when she and her mother had deserted their pack. Again when her mother died.

It was a hundred times worse than anything else she’d ever experienced, even worse than losing her tongue.

Could she survive that pain a third time, if she joined the Hearthstone pack and was rejected?

And for that matter, if she did bond with them (and Khalida would formally invite her to before long, Opal was sure of it), they would be able to sense her magic.

If they found out, would they send her out of the pack? Lock her up? Or did they have another collar tucked away somewhere, waiting for a mage to fill it?

Opal blew out a sharp breath through her nose.

She would find a way to do something. She just wasn’t sure what, yet.

When dawn arrived, a woman named Mirza and a man named Max appeared in the infirmary.

Max had been at the hunters’ camp with Khalida, she remembered. Had taken a dagger between his ribs.

Opal didn’t shift out of her wolf form when they sat on the bed across from her, and they didn’t ask her to.

Things felt more solid as a wolf right now. Not to mention the fact that it reduced the pitying looks people exchanged when she couldn’t respond in words after someone spoke to her.

So she simply sat upright, ears pricked, and tilted her head to one side.

“I’m Mirza,” the woman said. “I’m Dimitri’s sister.”

Opal could see the resemblance. They shared the same shiny, dark waves and high cheekbones. Mirza’s eyes were deep blue instead of brown, and she didn’t seem to have the same lingering scowl as her brother.

“This is my husband Max. He’s one of our hunters, and I help watch over the pack’s children.” Mirza gave her a wry smile. “Which is not me implying you’re a child, don’t worry. Our twins are just a little older than you, I think.”

Max chuckled. He was tall, with an open face and big hands that moved when he talked. “We would love to have you come stay with our family. We can help you settle in, and Nadia and Alexei have promised to be on their best behavior.”

Opal blinked at them.

“It doesn’t have to be permanent if you decide you’re not comfortable,” Ash said quietly, stepping to her side with a half-wound roll of bandages between his hands. “But I think their home would be a good place for you to start. And you’re certainly ready to spend some time outside these four walls, yes?”

Opal gave a huff of agreement.

“What do you think?” Mirza asked, reaching out a hand.

Casting a glance between Ash’s face and the offered arm, Opal paused for a moment before stretching out to nose the woman’s fingers.

Both Max and Mirza smiled at her.

“I’d like you to come by every morning,” Ash said. “Or anytime you’re not feeling well. I’ve told Mirza about our plan for your meals, and I’ll let you know once it’s time to introduce heavier foods. Alright?”

She nodded, and before she knew it Max and Mirza were guiding her out the door.

Something halfway between worry and excitement fluttered in her middle.

Her breath fogged out in front of her face as they made their way through the camp, which was still quiet. The sun had just peeked over the mountain. Opal paused to turn her face up to the warmth, letting it soak into her fur.

Mirza sank down to sit cross-legged beside her, taking in the peaceful dawn for several breaths.

Then the woman spoke softly. “My parents passed away when I was fourteen.”

Opal’s head snapped sideways and she stared at Mirza.

“They got sick,” Mirza explained, her gaze going distant. “A lot of our first pack did. There were only a handful left when the illness finally passed. Almost everyone else joined another pack that moved in. Dimitri was barely four. We had another sister in between us, but she didn’t make it.”

Unconsciously, Opal found herself scooting closer to Mirza as the woman continued.

“Dimitri and I didn't really... feel like we belonged, after that, so I took him with me and we left. We were on our own for a couple of years until we met Hearthstone.” The woman gave a small smile. “And I suppose you can guess the rest.”

A look passed between them. Then Opal bowed her head.

In moments like these, she wished she could say something.

“I won’t say I know how you feel, because it’s different for everyone. But I do understand how hard it can be.” Mirza ducked her head to meet Opal’s eyes. “You won’t be alone. Okay?”

Opal gave a tiny nod.

As Mirza rose, Opal caught a glimpse of movement across the camp. Khalida and Lada were awake, walking hand-in-hand toward the infirmary.

Mirza took Max’s hand and looked down at Opal. “Shall we?”

They showed Opal to one of the cabins, where a boy and girl waited with rumpled hair and soft-looking pajamas. The girl grinned eagerly and the boy offered a bashful wave. Opal nodded at them, staying quiet as they gave her a tour.

The cabin had a main area with a table and chairs, then two small rooms, one with a larger bed and one with two cots. There were blankets and bits of clothing strewn in some places, a half-finished knitting project in a chair, a cut apple on the table. Embers in the hearth gave off a smoldering glow. It was lived-in. Cozy.

But somehow overwhelming, too.

This felt like a home, and she wasn’t sure if she would fit in a place like this anymore.

A gentle hand touched between her shoulders.

“We were thinking this could be your room,” Mirza said, gesturing up a narrow ladder. A loft took up half the main area, a curtain drawn aside to reveal a little room.

Nadia climbed up, reaching a hand down. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Shifting her paws, Opal considered the ladder for a moment. Then she scaled it behind Nadia, crawling over the top.

Her eyes widened.

They’d set up a mattress with a nest of blankets atop it and laid out another set of clothing that included a long knitted scarf and a coat. A cup with a few wildflowers sat in the tiny windowsill, and a little notepad and pencil rested in the center of the floor.

Opal trembled, her throat tight.

Behind her, Mirza came up the ladder and knelt at the entrance to the loft.

“Are you alright, Opal?”

Abandoning any shyness, Opal leapt into the woman’s arms and buried her face in her sweater.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Mirza said, running her fingers down Opal’s back as she shook. “We’ll get through it.”

Opal found herself almost able to believe it would be true.

If Ash had seen how quickly she ate the thin, tasteless porridge she was offered for breakfast, he definitely would have scolded her.

But he was on the far end of the longhouse talking with people Opal didn’t know yet, and she wanted to get outside as soon as she could.

She shifted back into her wolf, trotting away from the tables with the intent to spend the rest of the day in the sunshine if she could.

Just as she approached the exit, the door swung open and Dimitri and Jaime stepped in.

They both looked tired.

Jaime had a coat now, at least, even though it was a size too big.

Opal stopped and looked up at them.

“Good morning, Opal,” Dimitri said.

She turned her eyes to Jaime, who gave a tiny smile and an even smaller shake of his head.

Alexei and Nadia caught up to Opal, bumping to a halt beside her.

“No running inside!” A voice came from one of the tables.

“Sorry,” Nadia said over her shoulder, grinning. “Uncle Dima, guess what?"

She didn't wait for an answer to put a hand on Opal's back and smile even wider. "Opal’s going to stay with us. We got her room set up in the loft, and Alexei found her a notebook she can use to talk to us if she wants to.”

Alexei nudged his sister. “We haven’t asked her if she can even use it yet,” he said in an undertone.

“Oh. Do you know how to read and write?” Nadia tilted her head at Opal. Her brother put a hand on his face with a soft groan.

“What? I’m just asking.”

Opal nodded slowly. She didn’t think she’d make it through the thick books she’d seen on Ash’s shelves, but she knew the basics. Enough to get by, certainly.

A pleased look crossed Alexei’s face.

“That sounds great,” Dimitri said. He pulled the two teens into a hug and ruffled their hair. “You’ll be in good company, Opal, even if these two are troublemakers sometimes.”

This was met with mild protests that Opal snorted at.

“We’re going to go show her around,” Nadia said. “Have fun doing boring stuff all day, Dima.”

Dimitri grimaced before smoothing his expression into an eyeroll. “Yes, well, I’m certain I’ll have just as much fun as you will crushing herbs and rolling bandages.”

“That is fun,” Nadia retorted.

Alexei’s gaze darted between Dimitri and Jaime, and he shifted uncertainly before he spoke. “What... What are you working on first?”

“Khalida and I will decide this morning.” Dimitri reached to squeeze Alexei’s shoulder. “If we end up doing anything with the garden, I’ll be sure to consult you first.”

Alexei beamed.

Opal turned her attention back to Jaime, trying to assess if he was alright.

He stood stiffly and kept looking at the tables out of the corner of his eye. But she couldn’t smell any new injuries, and his eyebrows rose a little at the mention of a garden.

As the twins said goodbye to Dimitri, Opal brushed purposely against Jaime’s legs as she passed.

She had a plan.

The next while passed quickly as Opal got absorbed in the game of a group of younger children. Alexei and Nadia left her with them under Mirza’s eye as they both went to do their morning chores. They had a few balls of felted wool, and the game involved batting them around a series of stakes to land in a hole. When someone was moving a ball, they had to choose either their human or wolf form. Switching mid-round was cheating. And whoever got a ball into the hole first won.

It was harder than it looked.

After being eliminated from the round again, Opal sat on the side and watched as a pair of small siblings raced to get to the hole first.

A sudden, sharp tugging at her side made her jump.

She turned to see a toddler with strawberry blonde hair hugging her flank, tiny hands fisted tightly in her fur. Opal blinked at her.

“Anya!” A man’s voice called. He hurried over and coaxed the toddler’s fingers open.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “She made a beeline for you as soon as I set her down.”

Opal made a reassuring noise and nosed the little girl’s cheek until she giggled.

The man smiled and scooped her up.

“There’s a pile of sticks behind my cabin,” he said to the children. “I saved a few of the good ones when I cleared up the other day.”

“Ooh! Thanks, Ivan!”

He walked away just as the dark-haired boy got his ball into the hole and crowed triumphantly.

Finally, movement at the door of the longhouse caught Opal’s eye.

She waited until the cluster of adults was facing away from her and watched as they took steps toward the place where the treeline began.

Then she scampered to follow.

Khalida, Dimitri, and Jaime stood at the edge of the village, expressions serious.

Opal skidded to a stop between Dimitri and Jaime and sat.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at her. “Hello, Opal.”

She wagged her tail, letting it thump on the ground.

Khalida bent to speak to her. “How are you getting on so far?”

Opal nodded and gave a pleased sneeze.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Khalida straightened and gestured toward the forest. “We’re in the middle of some... discussions, okay? Why don’t you go back with the others to play?”

She didn’t move, instead thumping her tail softly and widening her eyes.

“What?” Khalida asked, head tilting.

Opal let out a whine, sinking down onto her stomach and giving Khalida a pleading look.

The alpha pursed her lips. “You... want to stay?”

In response, Opal whined again and scooted closer to Jaime.

“Opal,” Dimitri said, face shifting into a frown. “We’ve talked about—”

“I won’t hurt her,” Jaime said quickly. “If... If you let her stay. I promise.”

Khalida looked between them, then raised both eyebrows at Dimitri.

He was quiet for a moment, still frowning.

Opal fixed him with her best wolf-puppy look. The one her mother had laughed at and called irresistible.

The man blew out a breath. “If it’s alright with you, Khali, I suppose it’s fine.”

“Very well.” Khalida grew stern. “But you mustn't do anything to interfere with the magic, and if we ask you to do something, or tell you it’s time to go, I expect you to listen. Alright?”

Opal nodded quickly and gave a happy, garbled yip.

Dimitri looked sideways at her and spoke under his breath. “You’ve practiced that routine, haven’t you?”

She nosed appreciatively at his hand, then plopped back next to Jaime. He let one fingertip brush the edge of her shoulder.

Khalida and Dimitri exchanged a loaded look.

“As... I was saying,” Khalida said, clearing her throat. “We will loose your magic for specific tasks, and you will use it only for those tasks. That’s how the collar works, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime said quietly.

Khalida crossed her arms. “I want to reiterate that if you do anything, or try to do anything, to harm any member of this pack, whether with magic or not, that will be the end of this arrangement. There will be no second chances where that is concerned. Is that understood?”

“I understand.” Jaime pulled his chin up to look at the alpha. “I won’t. You have my word.”

Opal scanned the others’ faces. They looked... if not openly skeptical, not very trusting.

“Onto practical matters." Khalida gestured toward the center of the village. "We have a handful of magical objects in our possession, but there aren’t any enchantments or spells or..." she waved a hand through the air, "runes, or anything like that, in place here right now. You’ll be starting from scratch.”

Jaime nodded.

“We’ll begin with wards around the borders of the village,” the alpha said. “Similar to the ones you used to hide your camp, with some added protective measures. I assume you can do that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His fingers were turning red in the cold. Opal darted her nose up to nudge his hand into the pocket of his coat.

Dimitri gave her a mild look of warning, then turned his attention to the mage. “How do spells like that work? If you were to die, would they disappear?”

Jaime tensed at the question and Opal flattened her ears.

“No, they wouldn’t be affected,” Jaime said slowly, eyes on the ground. “Some... I think some mages tie spells like that into their own magic, or seal it with their magical signaure, but I don’t. I cast them so that they’re independent. But they do usually need to be refreshed or strengthened periodically.”

When no one said anything, he continued, “some of the spells will need to be grounded in objects, or put in place with physical runes, but others will be... I don’t remember the word, but they stay on their own. Just in the place where I build them.”

Opal listened raptly. She’d never heard someone explain anything substantial about how magic worked.

Dimitri made a thoughtful sound.

“This brings up an important point,” Khalida said. “We aren’t mages. You understand how these things function in a way we don’t. So I expect you to be transparent about the process.”

Jaime shifted. “Transparent?”

“Clear. Honest. And don’t wait until we ask.” Khalida made a motion between herself and Dimitri. “For example, if we ask you to do something that you know isn’t going to work, tell us. If we ask for something and you know a better way to do it, tell us. If we’re... I don’t know, combining spells in a way that would be dangerous, let us know.”

Opal thought that sounded like a lot of demands from someone who was forcing Jaime to do all this in the first place.

But Jaime nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“He doesn’t need spells for everything,” Dimitri said. “He mended several things without spells or runes. The healing was that way, too.”

Khalida hummed. “Hm. Is that usual, mage?”

Opal stared up at him, curious too.

Jaime gave a tight shrug. “I’m sorry, I—I’m not entirely sure. My... well, another mage I knew was the same.”

“I see.” Khalida looked thoughtful. “Anything I’ve missed, Dimitri?”

“What happens if you’re halfway through casting something and run out of power?”

Jaime’s brow furrowed. “I suppose... that depends on what the spell is. Some would need to be started over, but others would keep the parts that were already finished.”

She felt Jaime fidget and she set one paw on his foot.

“It would help,” he began cautiously, “if I could monitor my magical reserves. Then I would know how much power I have to devote to tasks.”

Khalida gave him a sharp look. “Your magic is cut off for a reason, mage. We’ve seen what you can do.”

Jaime’s face went strained. “Yes, ma’am.”

Opal let out a silent huff.

It seemed like they were being at least a bit nicer, since she was here. But she still felt a wave of offense on his behalf.

“Is that even possible?” Dimitri asked, gaze flicking to Jaime’s neck. “With the collar?”

“I don’t know.” Jaime’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I should not have—”

“We’ll ask Elli, whenever they return.” Khalida ran a hand through her hair. “We might as well know what’s possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime said quietly.

Khalida sighed. “You can take it easy on the ‘yes, ma’am’s, mage. I’m starting to feel like someone’s grandmother.”

“Yes, m—” Jaime winced. “Okay.”

Opal thought the twitch of Khalida’s mouth was almost amused, but it was gone in an instant.

The alpha turned, waving loosely to where the treeline curved to follow the village’s boundaries.

“We’ll walk the borders of the camp so you can see what you’ll be working with,” she said, businesslike. “Then I’ll leave you to get started.”

Chapter Text

Jaime’s mind fluttered like an anxious bird as they made their way from the clearing, ramming up against too many thoughts at once. He was hyper-aware of everything, from the press of Khalida and Dimitri’s eyes on him to the chilled breeze at his neck to the brush of Opal’s fur along his leg. He wanted to nudge her to the far side of him, to stay between her and everything else.

But he had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t in danger from the wolves.

They thought he was the danger.

He let his fingers nudge her ear gently and she nosed at him once before loping ahead to sniff at a pile of leaves.

“We’ll start at the overlook,” Khalida was saying, turning over her shoulder. “Sometime today, please.”

Jaime quickened his steps, Dimitri following suit to stay within an arm’s length of him. Jaime buried his hands in the pockets of the borrowed coat and counted his footfalls until his pulse stopped rushing in his ears.

Things were fine. He was fine. They’d tell him what they expected and he’d do it.

Maybe, if he was lucky, they really would want him to suggest other things he could do. He had memories of his mother’s hands pressing spells into garden soil. Even foggier ones of his grandfather weaving charms into a cloak that he’d proudly worn to shreds. He had ideas. He’d be... useful.

For as long as they decided it was worth the inconvenience.

Opal returned to pad at his side as they reached the end of the trail, the ground leveling out into a sizable plateau.

Scraggly pines lined the rise, blocking the view below until they came to a rocky opening.

Khalida stopped and waited.

When Jaime came to stand near her and turned, he couldn’t restrain a soft gasp.

They’d climbed higher than he thought, and now stood well above the village. The day was clear, a pale blue sky unmarred by clouds, and the countryside spread wide before them.

Hearthstone was tucked against the side of the mountain, laid out in a cozy smattering of structures. The treeline stood watch all around, stretching beyond to a forest of reds and yellows dotted by patches of evergreen. He could see where the river cut through, trailing down toward the valley below. A tributary led east to a mountain lake, shimmering and stirred with the wind.

Far in the distance, Jaime made out the spires of a city framed by rolling hills. Tirsk, most likely, where the hunters had gone for provisions while they’d been after the Hearthstone wolves. He’d never been taken along, but he didn’t think there were any other settlements nearby.

He brought his gaze back to the camp, where smoke rose from a few chimneys and a figure moved through sprawling rows of plants. The garden Dimitri had mentioned to his nephew, maybe? Despite the late season, much of it was still blooming, and Jaime caught a glimpse of yellow sunflower heads bobbing lazily.

It was beautiful.

Opal leaned against his leg, pulling him back to the moment.

Jaime cleared his throat softly. “Is, ah, is this the area you want warded, ma’am?”

Khalida gave him a sidelong look that made Jaime duck his head.

“Yes,” she said after a moment, then took another step forward and gestured out over the scene below. “The village, the caves, this overlook, as well as the part of the river we use.” Khalida paused and glanced at Jaime again. “If that’s not too large of an area to ward.”

“It’s not,” Jaime said quickly. “I can do it.”

“Alright. Good.”

He traced the borders with his eyes, mentally plotting potential anchor points. “So... What kind of wards would you like?”

There was a long pause, so long that Jaime turned around.

Dimitri crossed his arms, his scowl hovering somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed. “Well, tell us what the options are first.”

Opal let out a huff that might have been a laugh, if she were in her human form, and Jaime gave her a warning nudge with his knee.

“Yes, um.” Jaime shifted and tried to pull the concepts into order. “Well. The most basic kind is a perimeter alarm. If someone crosses it who isn’t recognized by the wards, you can set it to alert certain people in the pack. Or you can make it alert the trespassers, to give them a chance to turn back. There are also more defensive wards that will repel unwanted guests, with a shock or a spell. Then there are concealing wards, like the... the ones you saw at the hunters’ camp.”

Dimitri stiffened.

“Those are limited to a smaller space,” Jaime said, voice quieter. “And they need to be refreshed more often. The perimeter wards last a long time, and they can cover the largest area.”

“I see.” Khalida tapped one foot against the rocky earth. “How would the wards recognize people? Does a mage have to add them every time?”

Jaime considered this. “In this case, the easiest thing to do would be to tie it to your pack bond. Anyone not part of your pack would trigger them.”

“You can do that?”

Jaime nodded. “I think so.”

“Hm.” Khalida made an approving sound. “Yes. That would do nicely. What kind of wards would you recommend, then?”

Jaime hesitated, but when she continued to look at him expectantly, he stepped forward and pointed to the forest.

“I would recommend three layers. Here, here, and here.”

“Three?” Khalida tilted her head.

Jaime gave a tiny shrug. “If you’re going to do wards, you might as well be thorough.”

She lifted one corner of her mouth. “Fair enough. So?”

“A layer here, a short way outside the village. That one could alert the trespassers, so they can turn back if they’re not actually intending to intrude on your territory. Then a layer closer to the perimeter that alerts you. And, finally, a defensive ward built tighter to your living area, so your families are protected if an attack does break out.”

Dimitri made a quiet noise of objection and Jaime turned, nerves prickling up his spine.

“What?” Khalida asked.

“It’s...” Dimitri didn’t look at Jaime. “It’s not a bad plan.”

Khalida raised an eyebrow. “But...”

“But if you can actually do all these other kinds of warding, why didn’t you at your camp?” He did turn his attention to Jaime then, his brows knit together. “Khalida and the others came in without alerting anyone.”

Jaime swallowed. “They... We...” He pressed his thumbnail into the tip of his finger, hard, and shoved back a flood of unpleasant memories. “At previous camps there were more layers of wards. They just... didn’t think they needed them anymore.”

Dimitri quirked one eyebrow at this.

“Concealing wards are the most complex,” Jaime said slowly. “The most... impressive. They wanted that. But it isn’t what I would recommend.”

Dimitri looked at him for a long time, his face unreadable. After a moment, Jaime dropped his eyes to the ground.

“Let’s do what you said, then.” Dimitri dragged a hand through his dark hair, but the wind blew it right back into his eyes. “It sounds good to me.”

Jaime nudged a rock with his toe.

Opal pounced it, batting it until it skittered across the smooth ground.

Khalida pulled a slim leather notebook from her pocket and flipped to examine a page. “How long will it take?”

Opal brought the rock back and Jaime gave it a gentle kick. “A couple of weeks, I think.”

Dimitri frowned. “That’s all?”

For some reason, this brought heat to the tips of Jaime’s ears.. “It... It should be. If I’m only working on that.”

“Let’s get the outer wards in place first,” Khalida said. “Then Dimitri and I can decide if your... services are needed anywhere else more urgently before winter comes in earnest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Opal deposited the rock back at Jaime’s feet, tail thumping.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’ll break a tooth.”

She panted, tongue lolling as she looked up at him with large blue eyes.

“Oh, alright.” He kicked it obligingly.

She scurried off with a little yelp.

“She shouldn’t overdo it,” Dimitri said, voice low. “Ash told her to take it easy.”

“We’ll stop by the infirmary for her to rest while we keep planning.” Khalida smiled after the bounding pup. “Sometimes this is the best medicine.”

Opal sniffed into a bush for the rock. Just as she buried her head in the leaves, a squirrel burst out with a screech. Opal jumped back, her tail bushed up as much as the squirrel’s, back arching like a startled cat.

Jaime and Dimitri let out a laugh at the same time.

It felt like breaking a rule, somehow. But as Opal warily watched the squirrel climb a tree to chatter angrily from the safety of a higher branch, Jaime couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

She stretched out her front half to retrieve her rock, her back legs staying far behind.

Khalida started down the path, gesturing for the others to follow.

“Opal likes you,” Dimitri said. It wasn’t a question, but still seemed to demand a response.

“I suppose,” Jaime said slowly.

“She does. Any idea why?”

The words were still neutral, deliberately so, but they shot through Jaime like fire. He made his own response equally careful. True, if not complete.

“Opal reminds me of one of my sisters.” He had to push back a familiar ache in his chest at the words. A flash of sunlight, flowered seams, laughter. “Maybe I remind her of someone, too.”

Dimitri’s sigh was silent, more a dropping of his shoulders than anything. “She’s stubborn, so telling her to stay away won’t do any good. Just... Don’t make her regret it, mage. She’s lost enough.”

Jaime’s throat tightened, an image of the other silvery wolf’s motionless body cutting through his thoughts. “I know.”

Opal came back, shifting into human form. She held the stone out to Jaime and he accepted it, tucking it into his pocket with care. Spots of color were high on her smiling cheeks, but her arm trembled as she lowered it, and Jaime knew Dimitri had been right. She’d pushed to the edges of the limited strength she’d regained.

He offered his arm to her, pausing to cast a glance at Dimitri, making sure this wasn’t pushing the bounds of whatever sort of permission had been implied in his earlier statement.

The other man made no move to stop him.

Opal took his arm and leaned into him as they picked their way down the uneven path.

“What’s the first step?” Khalida asked, looking over her shoulder. “Once we’ve decided on the locations.”

“Runestones,” Jaime said. “I’ll have to make them and place them.”

She raised an eyebrow, reminding him that she wanted transparency.

He bit his lip, working out how to put the process into words as he went. It had been a long time since he’d had to explain any of the magic he did, and longer still since he’d learned these foundational concepts.

“This type of stone helps me keep track of the placement of the wards while I’m casting. And if the work can’t all be done in one go, they’re very important.”

Dimitri made a noise behind him. “The rocks?”

“Yes. It’s like...” He searched for a similar idea. “What’s that called? The...”

He made a gesture with his hands, miming string and needles.

Dimitri looked at him blankly for a second, then his eyebrows rose. “Knitting?”

Jaime nodded, enthusiasm rising. “Knitting. When the wards are in progress, they’re like... an unfinished knitting? They can unravel. The magical pattern is still open. The runestones hold portions in place so they don’t undo themselves. Like a pin holds yarn. It wouldn’t hold that way for very long, but it gives the mage building the wards more time. When the spells are finished, the pattern is closed, and there aren’t any more loose threads.”

“Oh.” Dimitri nodded. “That makes sense.”

“After that, the runestones can serve as a marker of sorts, if you know how to spot them.”

“Alright. How do you spot them?” Dimitri asked.

“You just... Know what to look for. Smooth rocks work best. For this, they should be bigger than a coin, but smaller than your palm.”

Opal reached into Jaime’s pocket and produced the stone.

He smiled at her. “Yes. That would make a good one. They have a rune on them that’s visible in the moonlight.”

“I see.” Khalida slowed to fall into step beside Dimitri. “What do you think about asking Mirza to help the pups start gathering river rocks this afternoon? For three ward lines, I expect we’ll need a lot.”

Dimitri nodded. “They certainly have the energy for it.”

The two leaders spoke to each other for the rest of the walk, leaving Jaime and Opal to follow. It took him until the base of the path to identify the foreign, fizzy feeling in his stomach.

It was excitement.

He was... looking forward to building the wards. Had enjoyed explaining how he would do it, too. It was challenging work, and draining. But he was excited. It would be something positive, something to protect the wolves — protect Opal.

It had been a long time since he’d had even the smallest hint of positive sentiment about something in his future.

It felt...

Frightening. Fragile. But good, too.

Opal’s steps started to flag and Jaime coughed. When Dimitri turned, Jaime tipped his head toward Opal ever so slightly.

Dimitri slowed his pace. Khalida followed suit, so seamlessly that Jaime guessed he’d said something through their shared bond.

He wanted to know how that worked, beyond the barebones knowledge he’d gleaned from the hunters’ books.

Maybe he would, someday. He knew enough to know that Opal must miss it, now that her mother was gone.

He squeezed her shoulder and she pressed her head into his ribs.

Khalida led a sedate journey to the infirmary. When they entered, Opal (now heavy-lidded and loose-limbed) showed little resistance to Ash bundling her into bed and plying her with a bowl of soup.

Dimitri was another story, grumbling as the healer insisted on checking him over. Ash pressed a cup of a liquid into Dimitri’s hands, green and so sharp-smelling that Jaime winced.

“Opal’s alright?” Khalida asked Ash in an undertone.

“She’s fine. A little more worn out than I’d like, but nothing a nap won’t mend.” The healer turned. “How are you, Jaime?”

Jaime went still.

Dimitri’s eyebrow twitched visibly from behind his cup.

“I’m fine, sir,” Jaime said quickly. “Thank you.”

“No new injuries?”

He thought of Rowan’s teeth in his ankle, the marks already wiped clean with magic, and the tender places on his elbow from where he’d fallen in the river.

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Ash produced a glass vial from his pocket. “In any case, I meant to send for you. I’ve started a tincture of moonwort. It’s supposed to help with magical regeneration, and I had some dried moonwort in my stores. This isn’t at its full strength yet, but I thought you might give it a try before you begin your... projects.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh. Thank you, sir. That was very kind of you.”

“Well, go on. It doesn’t taste very good, I’ll admit, but it’s better than what Dimitri’s drinking.”

Jaime looked at the vial, then to Dimitri. When the man nodded, Jaime took it and downed the tincture obediently. It was bitter and spicy-fragrant, almost like mustard greens, creating a faint burn in his nose as he swallowed.

“It’ll be a week before it’s properly steeped.” Ash took the empty vial. “If you do notice a difference with this first sample, I’d be interested to know.”

“Yes, sir.” Jaime accepted a cup of water and washed the new flavor from his mouth.

“The tincture should help you recover your strength more quickly after an acceptable amount of pushing yourself.”

Ash looked from Jaime to Khalida to Dimitri and his voice took on a pointed tone that made Jaime flush. “I don’t recommend you make a habit of draining your magic to the point that it was when you arrived here. It’s not healthy. And it certainly isn’t sustainable, either.”

“I understand.” Jaime returned the cup to Ash, ducking his head. “Thank you again.”

“Speaking of acceptable magic use,” Khalida said dryly. “We’d better get started.”

Jaime’s attention instinctively jumped to Opal, but she was sound asleep in her mound of blankets, empty bowl teetering on the edge of her hand.

“I’ll look after her until Max stops by,” Ash said. “And she’ll have a tincture of her own when she wakes up.”

With that misty reassurance in mind, Jaime followed Dimitri and Khalida back through the door. They emerged into the edge of the village, sounds of life drifting from the center.

He fiddled with Opal’s stone in his pocket.

“Mage.”

Jaime turned, his shoulders drawing in stiffly.

Khalida waited until his attention was solely on her to continue.

“While you’re setting up the wards, and, I expect, using magic for other things later, you’ll be moving around the camp and living among the pack to a certain extent.” She tipped her chin toward her second. “With Dimitri, of course.”

Jaime gave a slow nod.

“This involves some level of trust.” Khalida crossed her arms. “I want to make it clear that this trust comes from necessity. Not complacency.”

He swallowed. “I understand.”

“I cannot overstate how terrible of an idea it would be for you to tamper with the spells you cast, or to twist any of your magic to some darker purpose.” She kept the full force of her intent focused on his face. “Dimitri and I may not be able to spot it, but our trader, Elli, will return soon, and they will.”

A wary curiosity broke through his tension. “Is Elli a mage too?”

“No.” Khalida’s eyes flicked to Jaime’s neck for an instant. He wondered if she knew what he was thinking. “But they have some sensitivity to magic, and they’ve studied it. If you try anything, they’ll be able to tell.”

“I understand.” Jaime lifted his chin, even though his instincts told him to bend, to placate, to flee. “But that won’t be necessary, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrowed. Dimitri’s brow creased.

Jaime pressed on before he lost his nerve.

“Even if the...” He paused. His voice wanted to crack. He took in a sharp breath, refusing to let it.

“Even if the bounds of the collar would allow me to alter spells to be harmful, which I don’t think they will, I wouldn’t.” He met Khalida’s gaze, his hands fisted to keep them from shaking. “I don’t have any desire to harm your pack, Khalida. I want to help. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

He braced himself for something. But she just looked at him. Her eyes were night-dark and calculating.

Jaime held them as long as he dared.

After what felt like an eternity, Khalida’s head tipped to one side. The breath she exhaled was a long one, full of meaning. “Well. Jaime. I suppose only time will tell.”

Chapter Text

When sunset finally came, Khalida felt as though she’d been awake for days instead of hours. She dragged herself through the front door with measured steps, waiting until she was inside to let her muscles sag.

Lada looked up from the table. The golden light streaming through the window lit her red hair like a flame.

Khalida’s chest warmed at the sight.

“Hello, love.” Lada smiled and set aside a record book. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to come fetch you myself.”

Khali resisted the urge to flop onto the floor, knowing that if she did, she’d end up staying there for the rest of the evening.

Instead, she dropped her coat onto the hook and sank into the chair beside Lada. She let her head fall onto the table with a thud.

Lada’s fingers slipped beneath her braid to rest on the back of her neck. “Long day?”

Khali let out a muffled grunt of agreement.

Her head throbbed and her shoulders ached from holding them too tightly for too long. But more than anything else, she needed a moment where nothing was expected of her.

She let the slow circling of Lada’s fingertips become her sole focus, anchored by her breaths and the soft scratching of a pencil.

When she lifted her head, the sky outside was fully dark. Neither of them rose to light a candle, and the gentle glow from the hearth kissed Lada’s freckles with shadow.

Khali would kiss them herself, too. As soon as she mustered enough energy for it.

Lada moved her hand from Khali’s neck to her face, her thumb trailing the plane of Khali’s cheekbone. “How did things go?”

“Mm. Well, I just finished seeing Lars off.” Khali sighed. “Part of me wishes he’d wanted to stay. He would have been a good addition to the pack. But...”

“He had a wanderer’s spirit.” Lada gave a rueful smile. “I know.”

“The mage did enchant a few extra things for his journey.” Khali listed them off her fingers. “A pack that won’t spill open, a blanket that keeps out damp, a cup that tells you if the water is safe. That sort of thing.”

Lada let out a low whistle. “Ancestors. I would’ve liked to have that sort of stock on a journey or two. Good ideas.”

Khali leaned more of her weight into Lada’s hand. “They were his ideas.”

“Lars?”

“Jaime.”

“...who?”

“The mage.”

A wrinkle appeared between Lada’s eyebrows. “Oh. The mage is called Jaime?”

“Apparently. I think Ash is the only one who thought to ask him.” Khali shut her eyes again. “And Ash is definitely forming some sort of judgement about the situation. He was making that face at me.”

“Not surprising.” Lada gently pulled her hand away and knelt, undoing the laces of Khali’s boots. “If there are two things we can count on Ash for, it’s a terrible-tasting remedy and an opinion.”

Khali let out a snort. “Well, Dimitri certainly got some of both.”

“Is he sure?” Lada moved onto loosening Khali’s braid and running her fingers through it. “About me taking over the hunt.”

“For now.” Khali shrugged. “He wants to be the one to manage the...” she waved a hand through the air, indicating all of that.

“Mm. Alright.” Lada went to the washbasin and splashed her face. “Well, I just went over all of the camps’ stores. We’re a little low on a few things, and I know I’d feel more comfortable with a few more cellars full of food.”

“I’m sure Dimitri would agree. You’re welcome to ask him, or me, but I trust your judgement. So do the rest of the hunters.” Khali stripped off her clothes and tossed them to one side, slipping into a flannel shift and taking Lada’s place at the basin. “Do you feel alright about it?”

“Me? Yes. I’ll be fine.” Lada lifted her nightshirt and twisted. “Could you...?”

Khali blinked the last droplets of water from her eyes and dipped her fingers into the deer tallow jar. The smells of mint and lavender rose in a soothing blend as she smoothed it into Lada’s scars, massaging lightly as she went.

“Is it bad today?”

“Not terrible. Feels like a storm might be coming, though.”

Once the cream had all soaked in, Khali leaned in to drop a kiss where Lada’s neck met her shoulder. “I hope not. I have... oh, about two hundred things I’d like to see finished before the snow.”

Lada turned and raised her eyebrows. “Only two hundred? Oh, darling. You’re becoming so... sedentary in your old age.”

Khali let her mouth drop open. “Sedentary? Old age? Last time I checked, I was only thirty-two. And,” she tapped a finger under Lada’s chin, “still several years younger than you.”

Eyes sparkling, Lada made a disdainful expression. “Well, not all of us can have my youthful vigor.”

“Youthful vigor, is that what you want?” Khali bent to hook one elbow behind Lada’s knees and scooped her up, ignoring the mock indignation Lada squealed out as Khali managed the few steps necessary to deposit her unceremoniously into bed.

Lada shifted herself elegantly onto one side, propping a hand under her head and giving Khali a teasing look. “Hmm... I don’t know if I’m convinced yet.”

With a soft growl, Khali climbed into bed and knelt with a knee on either side of Lada’s hips. She braced her weight with one hand, using the other to cup Lada’s cheek and kiss her soundly. Lada made a noise of appreciation, the slide of her lips warm and inviting.

She nipped playfully at Khali’s mouth, but Khali leaned in, swallowing Lada’s next inhale as she deepened the kiss.

After a moment, Lada pulled back. “You had coffee after dinner, didn’t you?”

Khali sighed. “Just one cup. And a sip of Dimitri’s.”

Lada gave her a light flick on the forehead. “You do need this thing called sleep, Khali. Remember?”

“Ugh, I know, I know. I won’t make a habit of it. Promise.” She distracted Lada by bending down to press open-mouthed kisses just beneath her ear, trailing down her neck and collarbone.

That did the trick, pulling a sigh from Lada’s kiss-swollen lips and sending her head tipping back.

Khali paused for breath. Before she could continue her ministrations on the other side, Lada met her gaze with a sly look.

She flipped them neatly, leaving herself to straddle Khali’s hips with a smug smile.

“Hey.” Khali scrunched her nose. “I wasn’t finished.”

“Mm. My turn.” Lada ran her fingers through Khali’s hair, trailing against her scalp.

Khali let her eyes flutter closed as Lada twined their free hands together.

Lada knew exactly how to drip kisses along her skin to send ripples of pleasure down her spine. Where to linger, where to go lightly, when to let her teeth drag in a way that left Khali moaning.

Heat pooled in a buzzing coil at the base of her stomach.

Then Lada put her mouth on Khali’s shoulder and sucked hard enough to draw a bruise.

Khali gasped, eyes opening.

“Lada!”

Lada kissed the surprise from her lips, a smirk playing at the corners.

“What? It’s not like it’s summer. Unless you get a sudden urge to show off these beautiful arms of yours...” She peppered the area with a few feather-light kisses, soothing the tender mark. “No one else will know.”

Khali sighed and let her muscles go limp. “Mm... Good point.”

“Looks like I win in the Youthful Vigor Category today.”

“Maybe. Unless...”

Khali opened her eyes and her hands darted upward to tickle Lada’s ribs.

Shrieking, Lada tipped to the side and grabbed for a pillow, smacking Khali in the head.

After only a moment, Khali stopped and let Lada catch her breath.

Lada stuck out her tongue. “I should never have told you I was ticklish.”

Khali just gave her an unrepentant grin.

“Fine...” Lada let out a put-upon sigh. “I suppose we’ll call it a tie.”

“I can live with that.”

Lada wriggled herself into a comfortable position, their arms pressed together so they could tangle their fingers again.

“I love you,” Khali said. “Even if you are incorrigible sometimes.”

“And I love you.” Lada sniffed. “Even if you are a complete worry-wart sometimes.”

Khali chuckled softly. “I’m afraid that comes with the territory, love.”

“I know. Wouldn’t change it.”

Lada’s hair smelled like flowers against her cheek. Her eyes drifted shut once more, and she was half-asleep when Lada spoke next.

“So, tell me how that played out. The mage just started spouting ideas to better send a wolf we freed from his magical cage on his merry way?”

“Mm. More or less. I was with Dimitri when Lars came to say he was ready to leave.” Khali opened her eyes, raising one hand to gesture loosely in the air. “The mage had some cagey look and Dimitri noticed and got the mage to make his suggestions.”

Lada clicked her tongue. “Well. Interesting. And you weren’t worried he’d... I don’t know, somehow cursed the things instead?”

Sleep abandoned for now, Khali stretched and yawned, ending on a soft groan. She shook her head.

“No. He’s very adamant that the collar prevents that, which does align with the notes Elli left. Either way, I... Well. We tested everything first.” She made a circle to indicate a cup. “The water thing was interesting. Helpful.”

“Hm.” Lada curled closer to her, trapping their twined hands against her stomach. “How are you feeling about it all after today?”

At Khali’s raised eyebrow, Lada made her own sloppy gesture in the air.

“It all. The mage. Jaime.”

“Oh.” Khali sighed. “Ask me again in a few weeks.”

Lada waited.

“It’s... I expected a typical hunter. I was prepared for that. Spewing hateful things, resisting every step of the way, looking for ways to escape or hurt us.” She frowned, her thumb circling the back of Lada’s hand absently.

“And the mage, Jaime, isn’t?”

“No.” Khalida pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “In fact, today he insisted that he actually wants to help, collar or no.”

“Did he?” Lada’s voice was colored with surprise and interest, tinged with a hint of skepticism. It wasn’t far off from how Khali herself had felt in the moment. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Khali lifted her hand again, waving it toward the ceiling. “And I can’t bring myself to trust it, but I don’t entirely.... not believe it either. He can be dangerous. We’ve already seen that. So I can’t afford to let my guard down. But, then again, maybe he truly has had some change of heart. Wants to... Try and atone for his wrongs, something.”

“So, essentially... It’s complicated.”

“Essentially.”

Lada hummed a single, low note and gave a shrug that moved Khalida’s shoulder along with her own. “Nothing new there, then. It seems like the ancestors rarely send us anything simple.”

Khali sighed, then smiled and let her head roll sideways to rest against Lada’s. “Well, at least they sent us each other.”

Opal sat cross-legged on her bedroll, a tassel-edged blanket draped over her shoulders.

She stared down at the blank page in her lap.

When she’d awoken bleary-eyed in the infirmary (and accepted a vial of eye-wateringly sour liquid), she had realized she’d slept clear until dinner time.

Ash had given her another bowl of broth, this time with some soft-cooked carrots that practically melted in her mouth. When he’d said he wanted her to take things slow, he had not been exaggerating. But his methods seemed to be working, and her stomach protested less and less with each gentle meal.

Once he’d released her (with a request to refrain from being quite so adventurous for the time being), she trailed away to find Jaime again.

He’d been walking paths with Dimitri and alpha Khalida, tying bits of grass together to indicate where he wanted to place runestones.

Opal trotted beside him, pleased to find that Khalida and Dimitri didn’t try to send her away this time.

She listened as he answered questions about magic here and there. Somehow, eventually, she would find a safe way to ask him to teach her some things. To find a use for the power that waited at her fingertips. The magic was there, all the time, thrumming just beneath her skin. It had showed her where the best berries were when she and her mother had been faint with hunger. Let her reach out and feel the forest vibrating with life in a way that was beyond even keen wolf senses. Lit the way on nights when they’d stayed in human form and traveled long, winding paths to avoid setting off the dogs in a camp or settlement.

But she’d never had an actual teacher, and had never heard things explained the way Jaime explained them.

He’d be a patient instructor, she could tell, if only they could get away from the watchful eyes of the rest of the wolves long enough for her to ask.

After a while, they made a final lap, tight to the cabins, and Opal had let Max and Mirza call her in for the night.

She’d nosed Jaime’s hand once before padding inside, already yawning again despite her long nap.

Now, a set of candles burning bright, she sat with a pencil clutched awkwardly in one hand as Nadia and Alexei looked at her in eager anticipation.

Opal’s gaze dropped back down to the paper.

Her cheeks flooded with heat.

She couldn’t form the letters of a single word in her mind. That was the problem. It had been months and months since she’d read more than a scrap of a notice on a town board, and almost as long since she’d needed to write anything.

When they’d given her the notebook, she’d assumed it would come back right away.

But she felt just as blank as the page.

Her eyes started to prick with tears and she blinked quickly.

Nadia and Alexei exchanged a glance.

“It’s okay,” Alexei said. “You don’t have to write anything. It’s just there if you want it.”

“And besides, it’s not like Alexei and I are amazing writers or something.” Nadia waved between them. “We just thought it could help. That’s all.”

Opal nodded, holding the notebook to her heart in a way that she hoped conveyed her gratitude.

Nadia held out her hand. “May I?”

Cautiously, Opal handed over the slim book and pencil.

Nadia flipped it open and began to write, Alexei looking over her shoulder in interest.

“That’s a good idea,” he murmured.

Opal raised her eyebrows, leaning forward.

After a moment, Nadia handed her back the notebook.

Opal scanned the newly-filled pages and her eyes widened.

Nadia had written down the alphabet, including a word that used each letter.

“Here.” Nadia smiled. “Now you can practice when you want to.”

Opal nodded her thanks, beaming.

“How was it going around with Uncle Dima?” Alexei sounded vaguely jealous.

Opal made a positive gesture. When he waited, she flipped through the notebook to write, “good.”

“You weren’t... scared?” Nadia lowered her voice. “Being that close to the mage?”

Opal shook her head firmly.

The twins shared another look, but Opal made a show of yawning again and set the notebook aside. She was tired, after all. And certainly too tired to try to figure out how to tread the middle ground between defending Jaime and making the other wolves suspicious.

Luckily, Alexei and Nadia took the hint right away.

“Good night,” Alexei said.

“Good night,” Nadia repeated. “Maybe tomorrow we can show you where we do cave paintings.”

Opal smiled.

She leaned out of bed and flipped the book open again, writing a quick sentence that had returned to her memory at their words.

”Thank you.”

Dimitri's dreams were barred in by cages again. This time, Alexei and Nadia were the ones inside. He was slamming himself into them, over and over, begging the bars to give way before it was too late.

Just when he thought either the cages or he would break, a shadow appeared over his shoulder and he turned to see the mage, lifting his hand to —

Dimitri jumped awake.

He gripped his blankets in white-knuckled hands, forcing his breaths in and out of his nostrils until they didn’t feel so frantic.

Ash had tried to suggest a sleeping draught again, but Dimitri hated the idea of being unable to wake if he was needed. Particularly now.

The nightmares would fade. Eventually.

He rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets to his chin, just settling back in when a strange knocking sound made him sit upright.

Shadows covered most of the space, and he turned both ways to look around. No one at the windows. Nor the door.

He was about to dismiss it as an aftereffect of the dream when it came again.

This time, he identified the source.

The mage.

Dimitri silently slid out of his bed and moved the ladder next to the loft. He climbed one rung at a time, his heart hammering. He braced himself to see some sort of arcane ritual the mage had managed to find a loophole for, or bloody skin where there should be a collar, or...

He leaned sideways to get a view of the loft without alerting the mage of his approach.

The mage was sitting with his legs crossed beneath him, a pile of stones spread out in front. He murmured something under his breath and traced a symbol over one of the stones.

It glowed for a moment before fading back to simple stone. He set it gingerly on the pile, but not without the same quiet, rocky tap that had alerted Dimitri in the first place.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri asked sharply.

The mage jumped so hard he dropped the next stone from his hand.

They looked at each other for a few seconds too long.

Then the mage held up one of the rocks, which still bore a faint bluish light.

“I’m making runestones. For the wards.”

Dimitri squinted. “Yes, I can see that now. But why?”

The mage blinked. “Well... I had time.”

“Time that you could be.... Sleeping.” Dimitri glanced toward the untouched bedroll.

Dropping his eyes to the pile, the mage shrugged. “There are a lot to make.”

Dimitri pressed two fingers into his temple. “That’s not — wait, where did the rocks come from?”

Pink spread across the mage’s cheeks, barely visible in the glow from the finished stones. “I put some of what the pups brought in my pockets earlier,.”

“In your pockets.” Dimitri was not awake enough for this. He shook his head once to clear it and held out his hand.

The mage deposited one of the stones into it without comment.

Dimitri rolled the rock between his fingers, wondering at the way the rune was visible at some angles, but invisible from others.

“I have a couple dozen finished already,” the mage said, something like a plea in his voice. “You loosed my magic for the stones. I didn’t try to use it for anything else.”

Dimitri set the stone back with the others.

“Well, that's enough for now.”

The man’s head rose, his wary eyes on Dimitri with whites too bright in the darkness.

“We don’t expect you to work through the night enchanting rocks.” Dimitri’s mouth twisted in something that wasn’t quite a grimace or a smile. “Ash would probably have us for breakfast if we did, anyway.”

Something that looked like an objection flitted over the mage’s face.

Dimitri let out a sigh. Fatigue pulled at him with heavy hands, and his words came out softer than he'd expected. “You’re... allowed to rest, mage. Everyone needs rest.”

The mage swallowed visibly. “I... I see.”

When he didn’t move, Dimitri made a pointed motion toward the bedroll. After a moment, the mage nodded and slid toward it, leaving the stones behind.

Dimitri climbed back down the ladder and set it in its usual place away from the loft.

He snugged the covers around himself again and waited. No more telltale thumps came from the mage’s space, and the glow of the completed stones began to fade.

This time, when he fell asleep, it was into a rest free of dreams.

Chapter Text

The pile of runestones was growing steadily.

Dimitri’s patience was dwindling at a comparable pace.

He’d reviewed Lada’s plans for preparing the winter game stores. Mended a hole in his jacket. Scribbled a few thoughts and sketches on how they could strengthen the camp’s infrastructure now that (whether he liked it or not) they had new resources to draw on. Mended a hole in his sock.

Now he was almost done sharpening the last of his (five) knives.

And if he went much longer with the whetstone, he’d start to damage the blade.

The itch under his skin made him set down the whetstone with too much force.

“Mage.”

The mage startled and fumbled to catch the stone he’d been enchanting. He looked up with an expression that reminded Dimitri of a deer backed into a thicket.

Dimitri felt something twitch in his temple. “How much longer?”

The mage blinked. “For... the runestones?

Dimitri raised one eyebrow. “I don’t exactly see anything else going on.”

With a cough, the mage laid the latest stone on top of the pile. “Right. Sorry. Um. I think we’re a little more than halfway there.”

“Halfway?” Dimitri’s voice came out louder than he intended.

The mage jumped again, and Opal shot him a reproachful glance from where she was chewing intently on a large stick she’d dragged up from the river.

Dimitri lowered his voice. “All of this is only half?”

The mage’s shoulders hunched in as he nodded. “This pile is for the outermost ward. I just started on the runes for the inner perimeter ward. I think—I could finish that today. The, um, the smallest one won’t need as many.”

“Oh.” Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes against the onset of a pounding headache. He could borrow a book from Ash or Idris, but he’d never been much for long bouts of reading. Beyond that...

“Dimitri?”

He opened his eyes.

Max and Alexei stood over the blanket they’d taken up residence on, small shovels and buckets clutched in their hands. Max crouched beside Opal, who paused gnawing long enough to nose his leg.

“How’s it going?” Max asked.

“Fine,” Dimitri said, pulling his mouth into a smile as he tucked his knife away. “Getting there.”

“What about you, Opal? Nice branch you’ve got.”

Opal thumped her tail against the ground.

Alexei wrinkled his nose. “You smell... fishy.”

“That would be because she caught a fish,” Dimitri said flatly. “And ate it raw.”

Max’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Wow. I, ah, didn’t think Ash had cleared you for solid food. Not to mention fish bones.”

“Don’t worry.” Dimitri gave Opal a pointed look. “She threw it all up on the riverbank.”

The mage let out a soft snort.

Dimitri glanced over to see his eyes fixed on the stone in his hands.

“Along with a considerable amount of water,” Mirza added. She came up behind them with the pups in tow. “We’ve already discussed waiting a bit longer before she takes such a... creative approach to mealtime.”

Opal huffed and turned a pitiful gaze on Mirza.

Mirza sighed. “Yes, yes, I’ll still ask Ash about you eating fish. Cooked fish. In small amounts.”

Max let out a hearty laugh and stood to kiss Dimitri’s sister.

“Sounds like the two of you have everything under control, my dear. I’m going to go help Alexei pull some of the more tenacious weeds.” He ruffled the back of Opal’s neck. “You’re sure you don’t want to come join us, or something?”

Opal gave her branch a meaningful chomp.

“Alright. Well, you know where to find us if you get bored.”

The two started to walk away, but Dimitri sat up straighter.

“Wait, Max, give me your knife. I’ll sharpen it.”

Max grinned. “Alright. Thank you. Mind doing two?”

“Sure.” Dimitri accepted a sheathed dagger and a pocket knife, as well as Alexei’s gardening shears. “Come back later and I’ll have them finished.”

Across the clearing, Petyr pricked his grey ears and shifted into human form. “Oh, Dimitri’s doing knives?” He raised his voice. “You’re doing knives?”

Dimitri gave an affirmative gesture and Petyr took off running toward the lodge.

Mirza cleared her throat in a way Dimitri was intimately familiar with. He turned to see her with one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward the six pups who were practically vibrating with impatience.

“Sorry, Mirza.” He leaned forward, trying to shake off the pressure building behind his eyes. He picked up the whetstone in one hand and rubbed it between his fingers. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Each pup presented a couple of stones that they’d determined fit the criteria. At each stone, Dimitri would cast a glance at the mage and he would nod or shake his head.

By the time the children had deposited the useful rocks and scampered off to find more, Petyr was back with an armful of kitchen knives.

Behind her, Idris and Priya held knives and scissors of their own.

Dimitri offered no protest as they set them down before him. Petyr held one back, clutching it close to his chest.

“This one is—”

“Your favorite. I know.”

After another moment, Petyr surrendered it, giving the handle a little pat.

“I’ll be careful,” Dimitri promised.

He was unsurprised when several other members of the pack came by with knives over the next hour, patting him on the back and shooting Opal friendly smiles.

Dimitri pretended not to notice the dark looks most of them sent the mage’s way, if they looked at him at all.

Ivan stopped an arm’s length from them, a sleeping Anya tied to his back. “Dimitri,” he greeted, quiet. His eyes stayed firmly away from the mage.

“Hi, Ivan. Did you need something sharpened?”

The man paused, then pulled several small, shiny pairs of scissors from his pocket. “I’ve been helping Priya with the sewing and mending.”

“Lots of it, I’m sure.” Dimitri took the scissors. “I’ll do these next.”

Ivan gave a stiff nod. “Thanks.”

As he walked away, Anya stirred, twisting in her sling to babble and reach backward at them.

The final knife-wielding visitor was Ash, who sat between Dimitri and Opal before removing several neatly-wrapped blades from his satchel.

“Thank you, Dimitri,” he said, setting them to one side of the rest of the pile. “I’d noticed the chopped herbs were looking rather more mangled than chopped yesterday, and Nadia was at her wit’s end trying to cut more bandages.”

“Any time,” Dimitri said. He finished Petyr’s precious cooking knife and placed it with the other finished blades. Picking up the next knife, he focused his attention on the angle of the blade and the slide of the stone.

“What’s this I heard about a fish, my dear?”

Opal rolled onto her side and whined.

Ash tutted. “You’ll set your recovery back if you take things too quickly. Your body needs time. I’m glad to see you getting some sun and taking it easier today, but please, save the fishing for a later date.”

She gave another little whine and put her ears back, leaning forward to nose at Ash’s hand.

“Thank you. I did hear Petyr talking about stew, and I think you could try a small piece or two of the cooked meat tonight. See how it settles.”

Opal let out a yip that made Dimitri’s mouth curl into a small smile.

With a pardon granted, she returned her attention to the branch.

The stone caught on a nick in the blade.

Dimtri frowned, turning it over and narrowing his eyes.

There. He pulled out a coarse whetstone and began to mend the damage.

“How are you, Jaime?” Ash asked.

Dimitri’s hand stuttered mid-swipe.

The mage cleared his throat. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you.”

Ash picked up a stone and rolled it between his hands. “Your runework is beautiful. I must admit that I’m eager to see how you weave the wards.”

“Oh. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Not overdoing it?”

“No, sir.”

“Hm. I’d like—”

“Ash!” Nadia’s voice rang out from the direction of the infirmary. “My dad got stung by a bee again!”

Ash sighed. “Oh, dear. I did tell him to stay away from the hives. I’d best be off. And I expect to see all of you at dinner and then off to bed.”

Opal stood and offered him a small twig from her branch, which he pocketed with care.

Dimitri held the knife sideways to check his progress, ensuring he wasn’t grinding the edge too thin. If he kept his focus on the work, the buzzing in his head grew quieter. But it didn’t vanish entirely, and he found himself snapping when the mage let a rock roll into his space.

“I’m sorry,” the mage said quickly. “I apologize. I won’t let it happen again.”

Dimitri let out a grunt and rewrapped Ash’s knives gingerly. The healer was even more attached to his knives than Petyr to his kitchen blades, saying they’d been with him since his university days.

“We’re back,” Mirza called cheerfully. “And we’ve got some good ones.”

“I fell in the river,” Rowan announced with equal pleasure. “And I found a snail shell.”

A small blanket was draped around her shoulders, and a puddle was forming beneath her bare feet.

The mage looked up expectantly. The pile of new rocks they’d brought on their last trip was gone.

Dimitri frowned. “She should go dry off by the hearth.”

“She’ll be fine.” Mirza touched the girl’s dripping head. “It’s a warm day, and she runs hot. Alright, show them what you’ve got.”

Rowan produced the snail shell first, which Opal shifted into human form to admire.

“The rocks,” Mirza reminded with a bemused shake of her head.

“Someone else can go first,” Rowan said dismissively, letting Opal run a finger along the delicate spiral. She looked up at the older girl with a beaming smile.

Leo stepped forward and held up a stone. Jaime looked at Dimitri and hesitated, then gave a small shake of his head.

Dimitri furrowed his brows. He gave a sharp gesture. “Just... just tell them yourself.”

The mage’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked in an undertone.

“I don’t say things unless I’m sure. Just sort the rocks.”

Dimitri watched as the mage seemed to draw himself in and up, then turned to the pups.

Keeping half an eye on the proceedings, Dimitri started on Petyr’s favorite knife.

“That one won’t, um, won’t work for this,” the mage said. “But it has a quartz streak, so it could be helpful for another project later on. You can put it over here. Thank you, Leo.”

“That one is perfect. Thank you, Sofia.”

“I... don’t think that’s a rock, Nina. Oh, you knew that? Well, dirt clods aren’t known for holding enchantments very well, but it has a nice shape to it. If you leave it here, I’ll enjoy looking at it for a while.”

“Tiberius, you’re next? Those will be excellent for the last circle. Thank you.”

“That just leaves Mila?”

Dimitri stiffened. He looked up to see Mila pressed close to Mirza, rocks clutched to her chest. Her eyes, the same clear grey as her father's, were full of distrust and fear.

The mage’s voice lowered. “Do you want to show me?”

“No,” Dimitri snapped. He gestured with one hand. “You can come over here, Mila. I’ll take a look.”

The little girl hurried around the blanket, pulling Mirza with her. She laid out six stones, each smooth and flat and round.

Eyes downcast, the mage nodded his approval at each.

The pups started away.

Suddenly, the mage let out a surprised noise of pain.

He picked up a stone and put a hand to the side of his head.

“I forgot one,” Rowan called, eyes narrowed. She had an arm around Mila. “I missed, sorry.”

Opal stood and put her fur up, her head down as she growled at Rowan.

“Stop it,” Dimitri ordered.

Opal turned to him, hackles still up.

Dimitri gave her a stern look. “Stop. It.”

“Opal, it’s fine.” The mage reached out an arm. “I’m fine.”

Dimitri found his fingers white on the handle of the knife.

Opal sank back down onto her stomach, but she didn't relax. 

The mage held a new stone in one hand, his finger poised but unmoving. 

Dimitri started speaking before his mind caught up. 

“When you first came here, you captured four wolves,” he said to the mage. Not looking at him. “A man, a woman, and two teenage boys. Do you remember that? They all had dark fur, except for the mother. Hers was red.”

The mage was very still. “I... Yes. I remember.”

“That was Mila’s family.” Dimitri met the man’s gaze then. “You killed all of them. We didn’t know you’d come to our valley. They were out celebrating their son’s first hunt, and you took them. We found blood on a tree, a broken snare, and that was all. We searched for months, but we never saw a trace of them again.”

The mage’s eyes were wide, pained. He dropped his head, squeezing them shut. “I’m so sorry.”

Something hot and ugly was building inside Dimitri’s chest, pushing against his ribs so hard that he could scarcely breathe. “And the wolves you captured with me? Maya had just delivered a stillborn cub after two years of trying for another child, and the grief nearly killed her. That day we went out was the first time I’d seen her look like herself in weeks. The old wolf was Max’s father. My niece and nephew lost the last years they could have spent with their grandfather because you hunters wanted to get more gold from enchanting pelts.” He spat the last word, his voice hard and low. “Opal lost her mother. That was her only bond in the world, and you ripped it away from her. You’ve destroyed countless families, mage, countless lives, and do you even care? I don’t understand how Khali can let you just sit here, playing with rocks, when—”

His voice cracked and it forced him to pause, chest heaving.

Opal had shifted into human form, staring at him with tears in her eyes.

The mage’s hands were fisted in his lap, his body motionless.

“I’m going to take Petyr’s knives back. Opal, come with me.”

Opal cast a look at the mage, but stood to follow Dimitri’s order.

“Do not move from this spot,” Dimtri ground out. “And don’t talk to anyone.”

A jerky nod was the only movement the mage made.

Dimitri scooped up the armful of knives and stalked off with Opal in his wake.

The lodge smelled of onions and yeasty dough.

Dimitri’s heart rate had slowed by the time they stepped inside, Opal silent at his heels.

Breathing in and out felt like trying to suck air through a reed. He made himself take a full inhale and exhale before heading toward the kitchen.

“Petyr?” he called.

The man appeared around the corner, face dusted with flour.

“Oh! You’re done already? Perfect timing, I need to add in the vegetables.” He reached for the bundle like a child reaching for a present.

“One of them had a nick,” Dimitri said. “Probably from a stalk or something.”

Petyr looked distraught. “That’s what I get for letting someone else help me chop. Thank you, Dimitri. Come on, I have something on the stove.”

They followed him into the kitchen, where he lifted the lid from a small pot. The rich scent of fish immediately filled the air.

“I made you some fish broth,” Petyr said, filing a mug and offering it to Opal.

Her cheeks flushed as she accepted it.

“Word travels fast here.” Petyr gave her a grin. “Especially with his menace in here.”

He gestured to the other end of the kitchen, where Abed stood leaning against the counter with another cup of broth.

“Guilty as charged.” Abed smirked. “Thank goodness someone around here likes to gossip, because my dear big brother certainly doesn’t.”

Idris called from the oher room. “Gossip is an unreliable source of information!”

Abed and Petyr both rolled their eyes.

Abed came over to clasp Dimitri’s arm. “Hey. You alright?”

Dimitri gave a small shrug. “Just... tired.”

A frown creased Abed’s face. “Do you need to talk? I feel like I haven’t seen you since... well, since you got back. Disha and I are going to go look for fireflies tonight if you want to come.”

Dimitri reached up to squeeze his friend’s shoulder. “I can’t. And I really am tired. But thank you.”

Opal returned an empty mug to Petyr and followed him out of the lodge.

He felt her eyes on his back.

What did she see in the mage, to be so defensive of him?

Dimitri would have expected the opposite.

And the mage was equally puzzling. 

How had he gone from starving her in a cage to this in the space of a week?

It could be an act, to try to capitalize on the pack’s care for Opal. Spare himself from pain.

But if it was, the mage was a gifted pretender—and as blank as he kept his face most of the time, Dimitri didn’t think that was true.

He seemed determined to try to avoid trouble.

It was smart, Dimitri reasoned. He was surrounded by enemies, people he’d hurt personally.

But Dimitri had expected that the hurting would continue.

The fact that the mage was doing his best to be helpful, unobjectionable, good didn’t make things easier for Dimitri.

If anything, it made it harder. He found it too easy to let his guard start to slip while they were sitting in silence. The mage was quiet. Careful. Polite, even.

But no matter how he behaved on the outside, he was still the same monster who had decided to make a living on capturing, killing, and selling wolves.

No matter what, Dimitri couldn’t forget that. Even if some of the others did.

At dinner, Dimitri pushed his stew around, forcing himself to take a few bites. Opal ate hers with gusto across the table, sitting sandwiched between Alexei and Nadia.

Max was sporting a puffy face and a headache, and sipped the fish broth in lieu of stew.

Mirza, likely exhausted from keeping pups from falling into or drinking copious amounts of river water all day, kept falling asleep on Max’s shoulder.

The mage didn’t speak, didn’t look up, and ate his stew in slow, tiny spoonfuls.

Dimitri stood as soon as the mage’s bowl was empty.

“See you all tomorrow,” he said.

Opal wriggled out from the table. She looked at Dimiri for a moment, calculating, before giving the mage a hug.

The mage looked at Dimitri before returning it quickly.

“Good night, Opal,” Dimitri said.

She nodded and slipped back between the twins.

Dimitri led the mage from the lodge and down the darkening path to his home.

The mage waited when they stepped inside, standing still in the center of the room with his eyes focused on nothing in particular.

Dimitri was halfway through stoking a small fire when he noticed.

“What are you doing?”

Hazel eyes flicked toward him. “I... Nothing.”

“Just go change.”

The mage disappeared behind the curtain Dimitri had draped below the loft, and emerged in the worn sleep clothes they’d found in the mending pile.

Dimitri did the same, fatigue making his limbs heavy even as the restlessness still crawled beneath his skin.

They cleaned up in silence, the mage dipping a cloth into a separate small bowl Dimitri had found.

Dimitri finished first and moved the ladder to the loft.

After a moment, the mage slipped by him and started to climb.

Then, all at once, he was toppling backward onto Dimitri.

They both crashed to the floor, the mage’s elbow slamming into Dimitri’s ribs.

Dimitri’s back hit the ground hard, his head snapping up just in time.

The mage seemed frozen for an instant, then he scrambled off with wide eyes.

“I—I’m so sorry. I was careless. I—Do you need me to heal you?”

Dimitri got himself to his feet, jaw tight. “No. Just go to sleep.”

The man stared at him. Then, moving quickly, he scaled the ladder and slipped toward the shadows.

Stifling a wince, Dimitri moved the ladder away from the loft and fell into bed.

He put out the candle, relieved at the darkness.

For a long time, the room was quiet.

Then the mage spoke softly. “You were right.”

Dimitri said nothing.

“Everything you said today. You were right. I... I know what I’ve done.”

Dimitri kept his back to the loft. “Then you know nothing can change it.”

“Yes.” The mage was quiet again. “But I—I need... I’ll never use my magic to hurt a wolf again. Even if it costs my life.”

Dimitri sat up, then, and looked to where the mage’s face was inscrutable in the dim firelight.

“No. You won’t.”

The whites of the mage’s eyes glinted.

Dimitri let out a sharp breath. “Because I’ll never give you the chance.”

Chapter Text

The air under the blanket was growing stifling.

Jaime uncovered his head long enough to take a few slow, silent breaths. He glanced over to where Dimitri was still asleep, his wolf form sillhouetted in the faint glow of the fire’s last embers.

Jaime had no idea how late (or early) it was. Close to dawn, hopefully. He’d slept fitfully for a few hours, then given it up to slide stones from his pockets and start the runes for the final circle.

This time, he was even more careful, and Dimitri hadn’t woken.

He ducked his head back under the rough fabric and cupped the next stone in his palm.

When he raised a hand to trace the rune, his finger trembled.

The stones for this ward were more complicated. Took more out of him.

But he only needed to finish a dozen more, and he’d be done.

He gritted his teeth and cleared his mind.

Whispering the first incantation, he waited until the rune glowed and blew a puff of air over its surface. Then he cast the second layer and winced as the stone heated between his hands. Once it had cooled, he laid it beside the rest and picked up another.

By the time he set aside the last stone, the side of his head was throbbing.

He shifted backwards, resting gingerly against the wall.

Dimitri let out a sudden snore.

Jaime flinched.

When no other sounds followed, he closed his eyes.

In his mind, he pictured the layers he’d need to form around the pack’s territory.

He thought he could finish them all in a week or so, if he pushed himself.

And then...

Deep down, he still suspected that they would decide they were done with him once the wards were complete. They would be significantly more protected from outsiders, and they’d have extracted a decent penance from a captured enemy. Would it be worth the trouble after that?

After all, Dimitri had been... captain of the hunt, had he called it? Once he had recovered fully from his time with the hunters, he’d surely want to get back to his usual routine instead of managing Jaime. And it wasn’t as though the rest of the pack seemed content with his presence.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

He wanted to live.

(For a time, that realization would have shocked him. But here, now, it was true.)

A life as the captive mage for Hearthstone pack wasn’t what he would have chosen for himself as a child, to be sure.

But it was better than a life with Eskender and the hunters. Worlds better.

He hadn’t been beaten, raped, humiliated. Hadn’t been compelled to do anything he wouldn’t have done of his own accord. He had proper clothing, shoes, a quiet place to sleep. It was more than he’d expected.

He’d thought, last night, that Dimitri would have to have a punishment in mind when they returned to the solitude of the cabin.

Jaime had braced himself for it.

But it hadn’t come. Not even after he fell.

And, of course, he didn’t expect that to go on forever. Surely, somewhere, he would cross some invisible line that they could no longer tolerate, or they’d find the need to take out frustrations in earnest. That was no more than their due.

In some ways, he wished they would just get on with it so he didn’t have to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still, it was... good. Strange. But good. This reprieve. Not to be nursing a dozen aches and cuts and bruises at any given moment, not to be forced to share his nights with whoever was in favor with the leader. Despite the drain from his magic, he felt reasonably healthy.

If Eskender had captured an enemy, had them at his mercy...

Well, the treatment of the caged wolves would have looked like a day at a hot spring in comparison.

The pack had gone easy on him so far.

He wondered if some of that was for Opal’s sake, and shuddered at the thought of her continuing to stand up on his behalf. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by aligning with him.

That was another thing.

He didn’t want to leave her behind.

If the pack decided to kill him... that would be the hardest part.

Somehow, he had to find a way to let her find safety and belonging with the pack, and explore her magic. Otherwise it would build up inside her until she couldn’t bear it any longer. And if he was gone, there wouldn’t be anyone to help her understand that.

The spark in her eyes told him that she would be a creative mage, shape magic in new and beautiful ways. And the kindness she’d shown told him that she would use it well.

He felt heat pricking behind his eyes and opened them, wiping the moisture away roughly.

She deserved to be happy—to be herself.

He would figure out a way.

The windows were just beginning to lighten. Jaime scooted himself toward the back of the loft and changed out of his sleep clothes. He hurried to tuck the stones back into the pockets of his coat, scrubbing hard at his face and straightening his hair.

As he’d predicted, Dimitri began to stir as soon as the first pale sunbeam touched the glass.

His inky fur gave way to dark hair, and after a moment, he sat up.

The line of his shoulders looked... tired.

Without speaking, Dimitri moved the ladder to the loft and walked away.

Jaime got down carefully, keeping three points of contact in place at all times.

When his feet were planted on the ground, he let out a quiet breath.

He could do this.

They washed and left the cabin in silence. Dimitri led him to the lodge, where a pot of porridge sat steaming and ready for the pack’s early risers.

Jaime didn’t know any of the few wolves he saw by name, except for Petyr, Idris, and the pups Sofia and Tiberius.

The two children were in the process of folding cloth napkins with small hands and the utmost concentration. Jaime found himself smiling at them before he caught himself, schooling his expression back into neutrality.

Petyr and Idris set a few bowls beside the porridge pot, filled with berries and nuts and creamy goat’s milk.

Dimitri nodded to them.

“Good morning,” he said. His voice was still hoarse.

“Morning.”

After a pause, Idris blinked at Dimitri from behind his thick spectacles. “I, er, fixed a couple of spots on your roof while you were... gone. It shouldn’t leak in the next storm. I forgot to say.”

Dimitri’s face softened a little, and he gave a small but genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll be glad not to wake up in a puddle.”

Petyr scooped them each a bowl of porridge. Jaime held his bowl tightly, standing still while Dimitri sprinkled toppings onto his own portion.

He glanced back at Jaime, paused a moment, then seemed to shake his head. He walked to his usual spot near the hearth.

Jaime sat an arm’s length away and blew on the porridge, relishing the heat of it on his sore hands.

Once the steam had died down, he took a small spoonful.

He was ravenous, his stomach tight and achy with it.

As slowly as he took pains to eat it, the porridge did little to fill the hunger that sustained magic use created.

Looking into his empty bowl, he considered the risks of asking for more.

He still didn’t know the rules surrounding food. And didn’t want to lose the regular meals he was getting by bringing it up.

But before he could decide one way or another, Dimitri stood and led them to a basin of soapy water, where they washed their dishes and set them on a table to dry.

Jaime followed him out of the lodge again, into the cool, cloudy morning. One break in the clouds above the mountains let a beam of warmth spread down into the camp.

Dimitri stretched and inhaled, then let the breath out in a rush, his arms dropping.

“Alright.” He seemed to steel himself. “Let’s go... look at rocks.”

Jaime cleared his throat softly. “Actually, I’m ready to start the wards.”

Dimitri turned around.

“Since when?”

“Since... today.”

“How?”

Jaime met the man’s gaze for an instant before looking away. “The runestones are all finished.”

Dimitri kept looking at him. Opened his mouth, then closed it into a thin line.

The stones somehow grew heavier in Jaime’s pockets.

“Fine,” Dimitri said at last. “Then we need to go see Khalida.”

Khali stared as the mage sketched a map of the core of Hearthstone territory with casual ease.

It was startlingly accurate.

She and Dimitri exchanged a look over the table.

Lada came back with a tray of coffee mugs, her hair piled into a messy knot atop her head.

“Alright, here we—oh, wow.”

Khali slipped her hand under the tray just in time to keep the hot liquid from spilling. She eased it to the table and kissed Lada’s cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

“How did you do that?” Lada asked the mage.

He didn’t respond, engrosssed in making tiny dots that surrounded the camp in three concentric circles.

“Mage,” Khali prompted.

The mage looked up quickly. “Yes?”

“Lada asked you a question.”

The mage’s brows knit together. “Oh. I’m sorry, ma’am. What was your question?”

Lada gestured to the paper. “How did you do that? Did you look at one of Ash’s books of maps?”

Khali sened the mage tense beside her.

“No, ma’am. I—I haven’t looked at anyone’s things.”

Lada leaned in. “So you got all this just from walking the land a few times?”

A pencil fell from the mage’s fingers. “Yes, but I wasn’t trying to do any—”

“It’s a good map,” Khali said. “That’s all.”

The mage’s face flushed faintly. “I see. Thank you.”

“Did the hunters teach you how to do that?”

Dimitri’s tone was as even as Khali’s, but it sent a prickle through the room.

The mage dropped his eyes back to the map. His voice went quiet. “Yes. They did.”

“Hm.” Dimitri took a long sip of coffee. “Must have been useful.”

This time, Khali and Lada shared a look.

Khali gave a tiny shrug and gulped her own coffee.

Lada tapped the outermost circle. “So, this one’s first? It covers some of our hunting territory. It’s not going to go off every time a deer walks by, is it?”

The mage shook his head, still looking at the map. “No, ma’am. It’s only triggered by people, not animals.”

“What about when we’re in our fur?” Lada took a drink. “Would that change anything?”

“You’re still people.” The mage didn’t look up. “So other werewolves would trigger it, even if they’re, um, in their fur. And, anyway, it will be linked to your pack bond.”

Lada brightened. “Really? That’s neat.”

“I forgot to tell you,” Khali said, bumping her mate’s arm. “We decided that would make the most sense.”

“Mmm. I agree.” Lada sighed. “I wish Elli was back. I’m sure they’d have some thoughts about all this.”

For some reason, that made the mage nervous too.

Khali drained the last of her coffee and stretched. “Well, no time like the present to get started. I’d like to watch for a while, then I’ll leave you two to it.”

“I’m going out with Sasha and Naomi,” Lada said. “Just for a quick bird hunt.”

“Pheasant?” Dimitri asked.

“Goose,” Lada said, tugging on her coat. “Not much longer before they fly south.”

Dimitri nodded, and Khali looked carefully at his face for any sign of resentment or wistfulness. But he just smirked and said, “don’t get bitten again.”

Lada stuck her tongue out at him and headed out the door.

The last coffee cup was still full, and Khali pushed it toward the mage. “That’s for you. Before you get started.”

Slowly, the mage lifted the mug. “Thank you.”

When he took a cautious sip, his eyebrows rose. “It’s... sweet.”

Khali laughed despite herself. “Lada must have made yours how she likes it. I swear, that woman goes through half our sugar stores.”

Dimitri returned her smile.

The mage drank the coffee in a few swallows and set the mug down gently. He rolled up the map and offered it to Khali.

“You hold onto it,” Khali said. “Mark your progress each day so we can keep track.”

“Yes, ma—alright. I will.” He tucked it away and followed Dimitri out the door.

Unsurprisingly, Opal was waiting for them when they emerged into the center of the village.

The silver wolf gave Khali a quick half-bow before jumping on the mage, pawing him and nipping his sleeve.

The mage glanced at Dimitri, then knelt, placing a hand on Opal’s neck. “Are you okay?”

Opal whined and nudged him.

Khali kept her mouth shut against the urge to say... something.

Reprimand the pup for using her teeth.

Question the mage about her odd fixation with him.

Push Opal to consider a pack bond so they could communicate.

It wasn’t the right moment for any of that.

The mage stroked the pup’s shoulder until she stilled.

Dimitri spoke, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. “Opal, do you have the notebook?”

For a moment, Opal just looked at him. Then she shifted, producing a small pad of paper. She stared at the page, her fingers white on the pencil.

She wrote a letter, then smudged it out.

Then, she carefully wrote a line.

“Bad dream,” Khali read.

She looked from the paper to Opal’s face. “You had a nightmare?”

Opal nodded, her expression shadowed.

“Do you... want to talk about it?” Khali winced internally at her phrasing.

But the girl shook her head and put her arms around the mage’s neck.

The mage wrapped her in a tight embrace, his palm resting on the back of her head.

Khali looked up at Dimitri. He had turned sideways, looking up the mountain. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

The worry that had begun to niggle at the back of her mind deepened.

But Dimitri had never been eager to talk about things that were bothering him. And that had been mostly simple things. This was far from simple, and he was the type to close himself off as soon as he felt cornered.

Khali resisted the urge to sigh.

She’d ask Ash for his advice before broaching the topic with Dimitri.

When she turned back, Opal had released the mage and was hitting Khali with her puppy eyes again.

The mage shifted his feet. “Is it alright if Opal comes along?”

Khali nodded. “Just stay close, and don’t get tangled up with anything in the bushes.”

Opal rubbed along Khali’s leg appreciatively, then returned to trot beside the mage.

The runestones for the first circle had been loaded into a wheelbarrow, and Khali took the handles and followed behind the others. Dimitri led the way, his shoulders loosening as they moved into the shelter of the trees.

They moved through the forest slowly, the crunching of dry leaves heralding their arrival to the wildlife. Squirrels ran up their trees, chattering, and birds hopped along branches with watchful eyes.

A hint of skunky musk hung on the air, and Khali glanced at Opal to ensure she really could resist the urge to bound off to stir up trouble.

To Khali's surprise, she stayed close to the mage, looking around with wide eyes but never making a move to leave the group.

“We’re here,” Dimitri said. He bent to touch a bit of grass the mage had tied last time.

The mage picked up one of the runestones and passed it between his hands.

“So... I’ll... Just start?”

Khali gestured. “No time like the present.”

He scooped up an armful of stones and began placing them carefully several feet apart.

Opal shifted into human form, taking the stones from him and handing them back one at a time.

Dimitri stood close, watching for movement in the trees.

“Dima,” Khali said.

Dimitri’s head turned toward her.

“I think we should all go out tomorrow night.” Khali smiled. “A half-moon hunt. The mage can stay with Ash, and we can get some fresh air.”

Something flashed across Dimitri’s eyes, and his nod came slowly. “Thank you, Khali. I’ll think about it.”

Opal and the mage returned from laying the first row of stones.

“Ready?” Khali asked.

“I’m ready.”

Khali looked to Dimitri, who nodded.

“Start the wards.”

The mage straightened, flexing his hands and seeming to steady himself.

“Domum protegere,” he said, reaching into the air. “Certiorem facere.”

A shimmering thread of gold appeared before him.

Khali gasped.

It shone like liquid sunshine, thin and delicate.

The mage moved his hands in smooth, practiced motions, creating tight patterns of magic that started from the ground and stretched above their heads.

When he had said knitting and weaving, Khali hadn’t thought he meant it so literally.

Opal’s eyes were wide, her attention rapt as the mage reached the next runestone. The symbol glowed and the ward slid into place, anchoring itself to the stone. Even Dimitri looked back frequently, the light reflecting off his face in dark forest.

Each time he started a new section, the mage repeated the incantation. Besides that, he was silent. After a while, he reached the end of the stones he’d already placed. Opal hurried to help, nestling the rocks at intervals and then returning to watch him.

They moved through the forest as he worked, making slow progress along the outer perimeter of the heart of their territory.

While she watched the weave spread, she silently echoed her mate’s wish.

If Elli were here, they’d be able to tell a lot more about this process than Khali could. Whether the wards looked correct, whether he was trying to add anything he shouldn’t...

As it was, Khali could only trust her instincts.

The magic filled the air around it with something solid, familiar, safe. And the mage looked focused, almost peaceful.

Until she saw anything suspicious, she would simply have to assume he was doing what he said he was. 

The sun stretched up to a new gap in the clouds, sending light to filter through the sparse leaves. 

Finally, he paused after anchoring the spell to a stone. He shook out his hands.

“I’m going to head back to camp,” Khali said. “I’ll send someone back with food and water.”

“Thanks, Khali,” Dimitri said.

Opal gave Khali a hopeful look and made a gesture.

Khali narrowed her eyes. “Um...”

Opal repeated the motion, this time with more emphasis.

Dimitri snorted. “I think she’s hoping for more fish broth.”

Khali gave the girl a bemused smile. “You really like fish, don’t you?”

Opal grinned.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She took a few steps in the direction of camp, then turned back.

“Jaime?”

The mage flinched, standing bolt upright and looking at her.

Khali gave a single nod. “Good work so far.”

After dinner, some of the pack lingered near the hearth.

Dimitri had pushed his potatoes and venison around for most of the meal, taking a few bites that made his stomach turn in protest.

Now he held a cup of barley tea, taking slow sips and trying to stay focused on the conversation instead of letting his mind drift.

Opal sat between him and the mage, slowly drooping down further into her seat.

“How long until you’ll be working closer to camp?” Alexei was asking. “I want to see what it looks like.”

“Me too.” Nadia brightened. “Hey, we could be the ones to bring you food tomorrow.”

Mirza ruffled Nadia’s hair. “We’ll see how the day goes. Did you finish the bandages for Ash?”

“Yes, yes. So Dima, how much did you finish today?”

Dimitri looked at the mage.

The man hesitated, then pulled out his map.

He traced the line of dots, his finger indicating a place where he’d marked over the dots with red wax.

“Wow. That’s a lot.” Alexei nudged Opal’s knee. “And you got to watch the whole thing.”

Opal gave him a smile that had an edge of smugness.

Alexei pulled a piece of paper from his own pocket. “I was wondering if there’s a way to make a, er, a ward for the garden. To keep out the rabbits and squirrels and stuff.”

He showed them the diagram he’d sketched.

Dimitri looked at the mage. “Is that possible?”

The mage nodded quickly.

“Maybe once we’re done with the others, then,” Dimitri said. He reached to squeeze Alexei’s shoulder. “Good idea.”

“Is it hard?” Nadia asked the mage.

The man looked at Dimitri for approval.

Dimitri shrugged.

The mage considered his answer. “It... takes concentration. It was hard for me when I first started, but, um, I’ve had lots of practice now.”

Nadia leaned closer, plotting the course on the map with one finger. “There’s still so much. Does it make you tired?”

The mage glanced at Dimitri again. Dimitri gave the same shrug, but found himself curious to hear the answer.

“Doing any magic takes energy,” the mage said, slowly. “But wards aren’t the most taxing kind of spell.”

“Hm.” Nadia took a sip from her mug, then tilted her head. “Are you mad that you’re making wards to keep people like you away from us?”

Dimitri choked on a mouthful of hot liquid, barely swallowing without spitting it out.

Alexei and Mirza gave Nadia identical looks.

“No.” The mage shook his head, looking down at his lap. “No, I’m... glad you’ll be safe.”

“Hm,” Nadia said again. Then she made a tutting sound and stood up. “You’re weird. Good night, Dima.”

She tugged Alexei’s arm and the two of them made their way toward the door.

Mirza pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know where that child gets her mouth from.”

“Couldn’t be you or Max,” Dimitri said dryly.

“No,” Mirza said, lifting her head with a prim look. “We both have impeccable manners. She must have learned from watching you.”

Opal snickered quietly.

Her face was pale, and she’d sagged completely into the mage’s side.

“Time to go,” Mirza said, reaching out a hand. “You need some sleep.”

For a moment, Opal looked like she would protest, leaning her head on the mage’s shoulder.

Then he gave her a gentle nudge and she stood, following Mirza out of the lodge.

Dimitri tipped the last of his tea into the edge of the hearth and went to clean his cup.

Abed stuck his head out from the kitchen. “Dima, you’d better be on the half-moon hunt tomorrow. I will come drag you out of your bed.”

Dimitri shot him an unimpressed look to cover the coldness in his stomach. “I don’t remember that working out for you last time.”

“I’ll bring backup!” Abed called after him.

The cold night pressed against Dimitri’s skin like a balm, soothing some of the uneasy prickle that still crawled up and down his body.

But it did little to dull the sharp pressure building inside his chest.

He went through the motions of preparing for sleep, trying to ignore the way his hands were starting to shake.

Then he dropped a wooden cup and watched as water pooled on the ground.

He threw a rag over it and stalked to the door. “I need some air. Stay inside.”

Crickets and the rustling of trees were the only sounds that met him outside the door.

He circled around to the back of the cabin.

Slipped into the shadows.

His pulse began to rush in his ears, drowning out the night.

He dropped to the ground.

Thoughts rushed through his head like a flooded river.

He couldn’t shift.

He’d been trying, the whole time he was guarding Opal and the mage in the woods.

And it hadn’t worked.

It was like there was a wall in his mind, unyielding, thick.

He stared up at the moon.

Waning.

Closing his eyes, he reached deep within himself. Fought to focus, to feel the call of his wolf, his pack.

“Come on,” he growled.

He thought he brushed the edge of a shift.

Then his chest tightened, burning and squeezing the air from his lungs. He tipped forward onto his hands and knees, gasping.

Fear and frustration crashed together until it was nothing but a whirlwind.

Finally, he was able to pull in a full breath.

His fingertips dug into the cold earth.

He retched, shivering at a breeze on a sheen of sweat.

It took him far too long to get to his feet.

When he did, the storm inside him crystallized into a solid point. Anger.

Still struggling to breathe normally, he stumbled back to the door.

It slammed behind him.

The mage jumped.

He was looking at the pressed flowers Alexei had pinned around one window.

Dimitri found himself beside the man in an instant, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him against the wall.

“Fix it,” he hissed. “Whatever you did to me, fix it.”

The mage’s eyes were blown wide, his heart hammering beneath Dimitri’s hand.

“What? I—I didn’t do anything.”

“I can’t. Shift.” Dimitri’s fingers fisted in the mage’s shirt. “So whatever spell you cast, or whatever you missed before, fix it.”

The mage’s forehead creased. “But... you shift every night.”

This shot through Dimitri’s haze. He blinked, then scowled. “What? No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” The mage was perfectly still. “When you’re asleep. You... didn’t know?’

Confusion (and fear, fear, fear) hit Dimitri like a blow to the stomach.

He made a noise of despair.

The mage stared at him.

“I... gah.” Dimitri released the mage and stepped back. “Just—go. And... gods, just. Don’t watch me sleep.”

The mage didn’t move for a long moment. Then, carefully, he peeled himself from the wall and backed away.

Dimitri didn’t bother moving the ladder.

He sank to the floor on the far side of his bed, resting his forehead on his knees.

In the cages, he’d thought he’d never get to be human again.

Now... He feared he’d lost his wolf forever.

Chapter Text

Jaime held himself stiffly all morning, waiting and watching for any sign of trouble.

(He decided against informing Dimitri that he had shifted in his sleep again, making quiet wolfy snuffles and, at one point, whining and panting until he’d startled awake.)

But Dimitri was just silent. Distant.

He barely said a word through breakfast, not even to the few others who were awake.

Jamie cleaned every scrap of porridge from his bowl. Dimitri barely finished half of the small scoop he’d gotten for himself.

When they stepped out of the lodge into the middle of camp, he followed Jaime in the direction of the in-progress wards.

It was a mild morning, but Jaime still tucked his coat tighter around himself against a shiver that ran up his spine. He kept his eyes on the ground, intent on taking steady, even steps that led them into the depths of the forest.

The woods here were somehow both lively and peaceful, and today the thinning treetops echoed with birdsong. A fat thrush whistled a warning as they passed by his branch. Jaime let his attention drift, taking in the dappled sunlight and the springy give of the undergrowth beneath his feet. He reached out to brush his fingers over a patch of soft moss on the far side of one tree.

By the time they reached the border of the wards, Jaime’s shoulders had loosened and he could inhale without wincing.

For now, he just needed to focus on the magic.

He picked up where he left off, pulling threads together and securing the pattern at each runestone. Dimitri drifted nearby, moving the wheelbarrow when needed, but mostly looking like he was lost in some private haze.

Jaime anchored a section and looked down to find his hands shaking again.

He hazarded a glance at Dimitri, but the man was still staring into the trees.

Turning toward the east, he pulled out the map and traced along the line with his fingertip. He looked up to where the rocky cave system was just visible in the distance, then oriented himself to their current position.

He was about a third of the way through the first ward.

A long row of shimmering magic trailed behind them, catching sunlight and bouncing it back again.

“Will it stay golden when you’re finished?”

Dimitri’s voice startled him. He carefully tucked the map away and turned. Dimitri was looking in the same direction, his eyes tracing the line of golden threads.

“No,” Jaime said. “As soon as I close the pattern, it becomes invisible. I... could still see it, if I tried. But it won’t look like this.”

“Hm.” Dimitri leaned against a tree. “How will you and Opal pass through? Neither of you are pack. Opal will be soon, I hope. But. You’re not.”

Jaime blinked, surprised the man had thought that through. “I’ll have to build both of us separately from the link to the pack bond.”

Dimitri made another grunt of acknowledgement. Jaime scooped up a few more rocks, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as Dimitri followed him the next few yards with the wheelbarrow.

“What... would happen,” Jaime began carefully, “if Opal didn’t want to bond with your pack?”

He knelt in the grass, placing stones and bracing himself for anger.

“Khali would let her stay,” Dimitri said. “But it’s... not natural. It would be hard for everyone. Opal most of all. Particularly given her circumstances.”

That sent a weight into Jaime’s stomach, and he was quiet as he began the warding again.

He wished there was someone he could ask. How bonds functioned, exactly, how much wolves could sense of one another, if magic could be hidden.

But he’d have to figure it out on his own.

When the sun was just passing through its zenith, several sets of footsteps approached.

“Dima!”

Nadia came through the trees first, clutching an armful of canteens. Alexei and Opal followed, each holding a small basket.

Opal’s eyes were lined with dark circles, but she looked happy. She set the basket down beside Jaime and grinned at him.

He secured the section he was working on and stepped out of the row of magic.

“Are you having a good day?” he asked.

She held up purple-stained fingers.

“We were picking the blackberries,” Alexei said. “There’s some in the basket.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. “I assume you’re hoping to join us?”

Nadia nodded, her eyes alight with mischief. “We brought enough to share.”

So they sat in a grassy circle, spreading berries and pine nuts and bread and smoked fish between them.

Jaime stared at the meal. His mouth had gone sandy-dry.

The others began picking at what they wanted. Opal yawned, sinking against a rock with heavy eyelids, and nibbled some fish.

He couldn’t get his hands to move out of his lap.

After a few minutes, Nadia looked up from where she was squishing berries onto her bread. “Aren’t you hungry, mage?”

Jaime stiffened. He felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“I, um—”

His stomach gurgled loudly.

Opal giggled.

“Yes,” he said, heat creeping up his neck.

Nadia raised an eyebrow at him. “Then eat. It’s all good. Petyr just made the bread.”

He swallowed.

“I’m just...” The heat crept higher. “Not sure. What’s... mine.”

Alexei’s eyebrow went up in an identical expression. “It’s all everyone’s.”

“Except for that pine nut,” Nadia said, leaning over her brother to snag a particularly large one. “That’s definitely mine.”

Alexei made a face at her.

Then the twins looked at him. Opal nudged him with her knee.

Jaime reached out slowly and picked up a piece of the bread. It was still warm, rich brown with a crisp crust.

He looked at Dimitri out of the corner of his eye.

Dimitri looked away as soon as he did, popping a berry into his mouth.

But he didn’t say anything, so Jaime took a careful bite.

“Good, right?” Nadia lifted her piece. “Try it like this.”

He complied, scooping a palmful of berries and spreading them over the top of the bread. They were so ripe that they almost became jam, the juice coloring his fingertips a deep shade.

The twins chatted and badgered Dimitri with questions.

Opal fell into a doze.

Jaime ate the bread. A few nuts. A bit of fish. Drained an entire canteen of water. Every time he reached back to the center of the circle, his heart picked up speed.

Finally, Nadia rose and packed the scattered leftovers back into one of the baskets.

“Opal, I think you should nap while I help Ash.” Nadia nudged her gently. “Okay?”

Opal looked at Jaime, her mouth twisting downward.

“You look tired,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

She sighed and nodded, dropping the empty canteens into the other basket and falling into step with Nadia.

“You go ahead,” Alexei said. “I’ll follow you in just a minute.”

The girls shot him a puzzled look, then shrugged and traipsed off toward the village.

Jaime smiled at Opal’s back.

He started to return to the ward line, but Alexei cleared his throat.

When he turned back, the boy was shifting his feet, his hands in his pockets.

Jaime looked at him questioningly.

“I was just wondering,” Alexei began, with what sounded like forced ease, “about the spells you used.”

Jaime glanced at Dimitri, who nodded.

“Which spells?”

Alexei’s eyes jumped between Jaime and Dimitri, then fixed on the ground. “The, um. The spells you used to trap the wolves. And then release them.”

Guilt stabbed through Jaime’s chest. He didn’t look at Dimitri this time. His voice came out quiet, but he kept it from wavering. “What was your question?”

The boy pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, nudging a clod of dirt with one foot. “You cut them off from their human shift, right? Trapped them in their fur?”

Jaime took a breath through his nose. Let it out. “Yes.”

“And then you... let them back out.”

“Yes. Essentially.” He had no idea where this was going, and the tension between his shoulders was growing tighter.

“How does it work?”

Sensing he was treading on delicate territory, Jaime considered his response.

“I’m not a wolf. Of course. So my understanding might be limited. But, um. Werewolves are creatures of magic. Not just human. Not just wolf. Not just both, either. Something more, and that comes from magic. The spells—”

Bile rose in his throat as memories flooded in, bringing all the hurt and horror and regret crashing along with them. He swallowed hard and looked at Alexei.

“The spells work like a...” he searched for the right word, “a barrier. Or a very tight net. It keeps magic from acting, keeps it stuck. Blocks the pack bond, blocks the shift.”

The clearing felt utterly still. Jaime could hear his own heartbeat.

“Magic doesn’t like trapping its own.” He found himself speaking into the silence. He wanted them to know this. Wanted to remind himself. “The spells that—that I used, they’re dark, and they’re strong, but they’re not natural. Casting them is hard, maintaining them is harder. But they don’t like to be taken apart, either. It’s just... It’s not how magic wants to be used.”

Dimitri’s breathing had turned ragged.

Jaime dropped the stone.

Alexei pressed his mouth together, looking pained. This time, he lifted his head long enough to look at Jaime’s face. “Could you do the opposite, then? Trap someone as a human, then unblock their connection to their wolf?”

Slowly, Jaime nodded. He squeezed a runestone in one hand until his fingers began to ache. “I’ve never tried it. But, in theory, yes. It would work the same.”

He waited for Alexei to ask something else, to connect the thoughts that were clearly swimming in his mind. But after a pause, he just gave a sharp nod.

“Alright. That was my question.” He picked up his canteen and slung it over his shoulder, his face drawn even as he sent a smile in Dimitri’s direction. “See you later, Uncle Dima.”

“See you.” Dimitri stepped over and gave his nephew a hug, then ruffled his hair and sent him on his way. “Take some berries to your grandmother.”

“I will.”

Dimitri watched him go, his expression inscrutable.

Jaime waited until his footsteps faded to turn back to the wards. His hands were shaking again.

He picked up the threads and repeated the incantation.

The spell wove easily, flowing like a gentle stream despite the tiredness that sat on him like a thick second skin. His reserves were beginning to run low, but what was still there went eagerly into the wards.

This was what magic wanted to do.

As he stepped down the line, he replayed Alexei’s questions in his mind. Confusion and concern mixed with shame.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Dimitri started carving a bit of wood, moving every so often to stay near Jaime.

Jaime’s strength flagged as the sun started to dip into the west. He had to focus to lift his feet for each step, had to pull harder to draw magic out.

He'd have to ask Ash for a tincture, without causing the healer to press him to stop.

A high-pitched howl sounded in the distance.

It was followed by another, then another, with a series of excited yips echoing after.

The noise faded. Jaime braced himself and raised his arms to cast.

Then Dimitri grunted in pain behind him.

Jaime spun around to see the man drop the knife and the wood, staring at his hand.

“Shit.”

Blood welled from his palm, already dripping toward the forest floor.

Jaime crossed the space between them in a few steps.

Dimtri drew his arm closer to his body.

“I can heal you,” Jaime said quickly.

Dimitri pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “I’ll go to Ash.”

When he moved, Jaime caught a glimpse of marbled tissue and, he thought, a flash of white.

“That’s a bad cut,” he said.

“I know.”

Pinching the end of the handkerchief with his thumb, Dimitri began to wind it around his hand, hissing between his teeth when it tightened around the wound.

Jaime imagined Ash sealing it with slow, tiny stitches.

“I can fix it,” he said, making his tone low. “It would be like it never happened.”

Dimitri took a step in the direction of the village.

Stopped.

His shoulders stiffened, then dropped.

“Fine.” Dimitri turned around, a muscle ticking in his temple. “Do it.”

Jaime nodded. He took a careful step toward Dimitri and swallowed.

“I’ll have to unwrap it again, so the cloth doesn’t get inside the wound when it closes.”

Dimitri extended his hand.

Jaime unwrapped the soaked handkerchief and let it fall to the ground. The cut glanced off the side of Dimitri’s thumb, but the worst of it was in the base of his palm, slicing a deep line through to the bone.

“Alright,” Jaime said. He reached up, resting his fingertips against the back of Dimitri’s hand to support it. Steadying himself with a breath, he held the other hand over the wound.

A gentle glow formed between their palms.

The flow of blood slowed, then stopped. The cut on his thumb sealed first, then the flesh inside the deeper cut began to draw closed. After a moment, the wound was gone—save for a thin white line.

Jaime frowned. “There... There shouldn’t be a scar. I can—”

“It’s fine.” Dimitri drew his hand away, flexing it experimentally. He moved without wincing.

Stepping back, Jaime pushed his fists into his pockets.

“We’re done for today. Let’s head back.”

Anxiety and relief fluttered in his chest, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Dimitri looked at his hand for the space of a breath. Then he looked up at Jaime.

“It still happened,” he said, his voice quiet and edged with something both steely and fragile. “Even if you fix something with magic, mage... It still happened.”

Jaime met Dimitri’s eyes.

He was so tired.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I know.”

Energy thrummed in the lodge throughout dinner. Khalida sat pressed into Lada’s side, scooping spiced beans with flatbread and listening to the pack chatter.

Rowan and Leo were regaling their table with a play-by-play of the pups’ practice hunt today, tracking bits of wool and deer hide that Mirza had hidden in the forest.

“And then I did this!” Rowan shifted to demonstrate a triumphant pounce.

Lada reached out and snatched the pup out of midair before she could land on the table.

Sasha reached for his daughter, setting her on the ground with a stern look.

Rowan pinned her ears and made a little whining sound.

Leo took a different method, arranging pieces of bread and walking his fingers between them. “And no one else could find the last one, but—are you looking, Auntie?”

Khali pulled her gaze away from Ivan.

He’d been sitting alone. Petyr and Idris went to sit near him and he nodded at them, but his face was still shadowed as he fed Anya small bites.

Her heart ached.

Lada squeezed her knee.

Khali smiled at Leo. “Yes, I’m looking.”

Rowan shifted and plopped back down next to him to chime in as they finished their story.

When the meal began to wind down, Khali looked around to take stock of who would be coming on the half-moon hunt.

Her eyes fell on Dimitri.

She kissed Lada’s cheek and stood, making her way to their table and sitting beside Mirza.

“I hear there was already quite a hunt today,” she said, smiling. “I hope we’ll be that successful tonight.”

Mirza laughed. “Successful is one way to put it. It was certainly eventful.”

Opal tapped the table to get Khali’s attention.

She pointed to herself, then gestured toward the door.

“You’d like to come?”

The girl nodded hopefully.

Khali gestured across the room. “Go check with Ash. As long as he doesn’t feel like it would set your progress back, you’re welcome to join us.”

Opal hopped up at once, weaving her way to where Ash had joined Ivan.

“Come on, Dimitri,” Abed said, elbowing him. “You’ve got to come. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

Dimitri set down his cup. “Next time.”

“Dima,” Mirza said, “I think it would be good for you to get out. The mage can wait with Alexei and I, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or with Ash.”

“No, it’s—I’m tired.”

Khali bit the inside of her cheek, looking between them.

She agreed with Mirza. He needed to be among the pack. Needed to feel the grass beneath his paws and the moon on his fur, needed to run. To leave the confinement of the hunters behind and remember himself.

But something in the set of his shoulders made her pause.

Knowing when to push and when to hold back didn’t come easily to her. It took work. Careful thought. And she still questioned whether she was making the right call every time.

She happened to catch the mage’s gaze.

His eyes were serious. He gave a tiny shake of his head.

Khali looked at him for a second.

Then she let out a breath.

“Let him be,” she said firmly. “There will be more hunts.”

Dimitri’s posture loosened ever so slightly.

Abed scowled. When Khali looked at him, he shifted his expression to playful annoyance, reaching over to flick Dimitri’s arm.

“Go to bed, then, granddad.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes.

Opal came bounding back to the table, her face bright.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Khali asked.

She nodded.

“Well, then, welcome to your first hunt with Hearthstone.” She smiled at Opal’s answering grin.

Opal bent to hug Jaime.

“Have fun,” he murmured, giving her a sideways embrace. “Be careful.”

Khali stood, raising her voice. “Whoever would like to join us tonight, there’s no time like the present.”

Most of the adult members of the pack followed her out the door.

The air was cool but not cold, the warmth of a false summer clinging on a little longer before winter chased autumn away for the year. The night was still. The moon hung in a perfect half-circle, just peeking above the treeline.

Opal shifted beside her, silver fur gleaming and prickling with excitement.

Khali reached to take Lada’s hand.

“Ready?” Lada asked.

Khali nodded, pushing her worries from her mind.

“Ready.”

Dimitri went through the motions of preparing for bed, his mind far away. Relief at being let off the hook battled frustration and shame, setting his nerves and temper on edge.

Once he’d changed, he sat at the table. Opened himself to the pack bond.

Joy and excitement flooded him. Feelings of good, and together, and home.

He soaked it in long enough to make his thoughts slow, then dampened it again.

The last thing they needed was his turmoil bleeding through to muddy their fun.

Just as he was about to stand, the mage stepped to the table and slowly sat across from him.

Candlelight flickered on his face.

“Can I ask a question?”

Dimitri looked at him.

“That was a question.”

The mage’s expression tightened. “Sorry.”

Dimitri sighed. “Yes. You can.”

A pause stretched out a little too long. The mage licked his lips and inhaled. “I... I was wondering. Do you know why Alexei was asking about the, um...”

More weight settled itself onto Dimitri’s shoulders. “The spells?”

The mage gave a hesitant nod.

For a moment, Dimitri considered brushing him off.

He ran a hand through his hair. When he lowered it, his eyes caught on the straight white scar.

He supposed... there was a chance Alexei might have been thinking along the right track. But he didn’t know when his nephew would work up the courage to press further.

Dimitri would do it for him.

“Alexei can’t shift,” he said.

The mage frowned.

“He’s never been able to.” Dimitri shook his head. “Even as a newborn. He can feel the pack bonds, and he says... he can sense his wolf sometimes. But he can’t shift.”

“Is that... common?”

“Not at all. Ash has heard stories, but no. It’s rare.”

“Oh.” The mage’s hands were clenched together on the table. He stared down at them. “That must be very hard.”

“It kills him,” Dimitri said bluntly.

Silence fell.

This time, Dimitri broke it.

“Could you help him? Is that something magic can do?”

The mage looked up, surprise giving way to pensiveness.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never tried. But I would try. If Alexei wanted. If you wanted me to.”

Dimitri watched the man’s hands loosen and clench again, the knuckles paling.

They were hands that had kidnapped. Tortured. Killed.

Hurt Dimitri’s friends.

(Hurt him.)

He didn’t trust them.

But if they could also give Alexei what he wanted most, then he couldn’t justify standing in the way.

So he nodded.

“Perhaps. After the wards are finished.”

The candle guttered out.

The mage took a shuddery breath.

“Okay.”

The next days passed in a blur, somehow fast and agonizingly slow at the same time.

The mage finished the first ward the night after the half-moon hunt and worked his way through the second at a steady pace. By the time he was halfway through the inner boundary, Dimitri felt the work going slower each day. Covering less ground.

It was a more complex ward. The mage had said so. Dimitri was trying not to plan ahead for what would happen once they reached the looming finish line.

Some days Opal stayed with them from sunup to sundown. Other days she went with Alexei and Nadia to help with chores and then get into their usual harmless mischief.

She didn’t play with the younger pups any more, Dimitri noticed.

He was glad she’d found friends close to her age.

Glad that they had someone new, too.

Beka was beginning to fade, and losing another grandparent so soon was a heavy burden for them to shoulder. It weighed on Max and Mirza, too.

The pack was bustling with the final preparations for winter, and Dimitri and the mage were mainly left to themselves even as they made their way around the perimeter of the village. Sometimes a few people would stop to watch, each with their own reaction to the work, but mostly the two of them seemed to exist in a separate, ghostly world.

Dimitri didn’t mind. Not while connecting with the pack took so much effort.

He kept watch as the golden weaves spread.

The outer wards turned invisible, like the mage had said, and knowing that there was another layer of protection surrounding his pack loosened a tiny knot of the worry that now lived in him.

He didn’t try to shift.

He’d decided the best thing to do was to wait, let the pressure fade, and hope that the fear would fade with it.

(Every time he tried and it didn’t work, it was like a dam bursting in his chest.)

He brought projects along to keep himself from going mad.

He carved new spoons, watching the knife carefully, not letting his focus slip again.

He mended and trimmed nets.

He tried his hand at braiding a basket.

Priya pronounced it a tragedy, then snatched it away and filled it with yarn.

“Anything else would fall right through,” she said. “Stick to knives.”

He made himself eat as much as he could stomach. Made himself lay in bed at night even though sleep came and went like snatches of smoke.

He wished he could look into the future and see when this would end.

If it would end. It had to have an end. He wanted things to be normal again.

(A quiet voice told him that things were normal, and that he was the only one who was different. Wrong.)

As the gap between the two ends of the final ward drew narrower, Dimitri felt like something was closing around him, too.

Something he could stop, if he only knew how.

The night before the full moon, he sat behind his cabin from midnight until dawn.

Just watching, until the sunlight touched him and he went inside to get the mage.

It would be Dimitri’s first full moon back with the pack.

Maybe, somehow, that would be enough.

Chapter Text

It was high noon when the mage began to draw the final threads of the wards together, cinching them tight like laces on a boot.

He’d begun the inner ward behind the infirmary, tucked between two tall trees, and they’d returned now to the same place to close the circle.

Dimitri abandoned his carving to watch. Opal stood next to him, her attention rapt, along with Khali, Nadia, and Ash.

Even in the bright sun, the magic glowed a clear gold.

Dimitri’s mind raced.

The hope he’d tried to gather beneath the watchful light of the moon had scattered as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

He still wouldn’t be able to shift. He knew it in his bones. And if he had to reveal that in front of everyone...

He couldn’t.

Nadia pressed closer to him and Dimitri put an arm around her shoulders.

His latest nightmare was the same thing, over and over. Every night. He was back in the cages, but not alone. Nadia, Alexei, Opal, Mirza, Abed, Khali. All trapped. All dying. And he was helpless, always, to save anyone.

He wanted it to stop.

And he thought, finally, that there was something he could do about it. Actually do, instead of just wandering the camp like an untethered spirit.

He just needed to convince Khalida.

Around him, the others seem to take in a breath.

The mage’s hands were stretched up. The top of the ward rippled.

The last lines settled into place and the mage whispered the words Dimitri had heard a hundred times now.

Then he pinched the threads in place and stepped back.

As soon as he did, the gold faded into nothingness.

A wave of power rolled over them, raising the hair on Dimitri’s arms.

Then all was quiet again.

“So... it’s done?” Nadia asked.

“It’s done,” Khali said.

The words released another of the knots that were pulled tight inside Dimitri’s chest. He hugged Nadia closer.

Khali set a hand on the mage’s shoulder.

The mage stiffened as he turned toward her.

She nodded at him. “Good work.”

Eyes widening, the mage returned her nod. “Thank you.”

Opal darted forward to throw her arms around the mage. He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes.

Ash cleared his throat. “Jaime, I’d like you to come to the infirmary for a while. I found a book I’d like to show you. And, more importantly, you need to rest.”

The mage straightened. “I, no, I can keep working. I—”

“Go rest,” Dimitri said. “Ash is right.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the mage sidled over to Ash, Opal holding his arm, and followed the healer toward the door. Nadia hurried after them, peppering Ash with questions about the book.

Once they were gone, Dimitri turned to Khalida.

“Can we talk?”

Khalida gestured toward the forest. “Of course.”

They stepped into the shadows of the trees.

Khali led them deeper, until they were well away from the eyes and ears of the pack.

Here, the forest was mainly evergreen, and the sharp scent of fir and pine hung heavy in the air. Dimitri took a deep inhale and turned to face his alpha.

“I want to go to Tirsk to get some things. With the mage.”

Khalida’s eyebrows shot up. “Well. Right to the point, as usual.”

She looked at him with a thoughtful expression.

Dimitri refused to squirm.

“Why?” she finally asked.

He swallowed. Clenched his hands tight, then made himself loosen them.

“Because I need to.” Dimitri met her eyes. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Khali. Nothing here is... It’s not helping. I think this will.”

The wind picked up, rustling dry needles on the ground and brushing along the back of Dimitri’s neck. Winter was in that wind, coming fast.

“I don’t know.” Khali crossed her arms. “It’s a long journey. I’m not sure I want to send you alone.”

“With the mage,” Dimitri corrected.

“That isn’t exactly reassuring,” Khali said, her mouth twisting in a frown. “You won’t have anyone to watch your back. What if he tries something as soon as you’re away from the pack?”

“I don’t think he will,” Dimitri said slowly. “And he wouldn’t abandon Opal. I know that much.”

She sighed. “Dima...”

Dimitri stepped closer.

“Please.”

For a moment, he was sure she would say no—her brows creased, her shoulders tensed.

Then she sagged. “Okay. If you think this is what you need... I trust you.”

Relief flooded through him and he reached to touch her arm. “I’ll come home. I promise.”

“You will.” Khali dragged her fingers through her braids. “I suppose, when it comes down to it, that we do need a few things from the city.”

Her expression grew shadowed. “And... When you’re there, ask around. See if any of our contacts have seen Elli. They should have been back by now.”

Dimitri nodded grimly.

“We can get things prepared today,” Khali said, starting back toward the village. “You can leave at first light.”

“No,” Dimitri said quickly. “I want to leave today. Now. Or, as quickly as I can.”

She stopped walking and turned deliberately on her heel. “Now.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed. He instinctively wanted to demur, but he lifted his chin.

“Fine. I’ll help you gather supplies.” She gestured towards the infirmary. “But you get to break the news.”

Jaime stepped into the infirmary with Opal holding tight to his arm. His nerves remained shaky despite his best efforts.

“I can’t do any magic for you,” he told Ash quickly. “The collar can only be keyed to one person, and—”

“I don’t want you to do any magic.” Ash turned the cover back on a bed. “Have a seat. Please.”

Opal pushed him toward the cot and he sat on the edge of it, his back straight.

The healer pulled over a stool and sank down in front of him.

“Could I see your hand, please?”

Reluctantly, Jaime held out his arm.

Ash took it and checked his pulse, then turned his hand over, looking at the tremble in his fingers.

He let go of Jaime’s wrist.

“I suspect,” Ash began, his tone somehow both gentle and long-suffering, “that you have drained your strength considerably over the course of this project. Perhaps I ought to have stepped in, but I did not. I hoped you and Dimitri would work that out. However, judging from your current appearance, I can see that was not the case.”

Jaime looked at him, neither agreeing nor protesting.

Ash sighed.

“Nadia, Opal, would you go get us all some lunch?”

The girls scurried to obey, but not before Opal nudged Jaime’s arm with a meaningful look in Ash’s direction.

Jaime clasped his hands on his knees.

Ash rose from the stool, wincing and twisting his back once. He took a jar from one of his shelves and poured a thin stream of liquid into a clay cup.

“The moonwort tincture reached its full potency today,” the healer said, offering the cup to Jaime. “Which, I’m afraid, means it will taste even worse, but it should also help you recover more quickly. I’d like you to take some every day for the next week or so.”

The cup was smooth and cool between his hands, with a glitter of minerals along the rim. He downed the tincture in one gulp, grimacing as it burned in his nose.

“Good lad.” Ash rinsed the cup and returned it full of cold goat’s milk.

Jaime sipped it, relishing the rich aftertaste. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now, about that book.” Ash disappeared into his private room for a moment.

Taking another swallow of milk, Jaime soaked in the quiet, herb-scented atmosphere of the infirmary. One whole wall was full of drying bundles, collected ahead of the frost, and another wall was covered in pinned bits of paper with various scribbles and diagrams.

His mind began to calm.

Ash returned, humming tunelessly, and set a large tome on the stool in front of Jaime. He took a seat on the cot opposite.

Jaime looked up at him. 

Ash's face was soft. 

“This belonged to a friend of mine. She entrusted it to me for safekeeping many years ago, but—” the healer’s voice grew taut, and he paused. “But, unfortunately, she was never able to reclaim it.”

Jaime leaned to peer at the cover.

His eyes widened.

“It’s... about magic?”

“Advanced magical healing techniques, yes.” A small smile crossed his face. “She was a gifted mage, even as young as we were. It was a delight to watch her work, even though I was wildly jealous that I couldn’t join in.”

He chucked and let out a fond sigh. “Well. Except when I was her test subject, of course. Things were... different, then, in many ways.”

Jaime tilted his head at Ash.

The smile was gone. “It was before Khan’s treatise.”

A cold feeling twisted like a fist in Jaime’s stomach. “Oh.”

Ash’s eyes fell to the book. “Wolves weren’t welcome in all circles, of course. I had to fight for my place at the university. But we weren’t hunted like we are now. And our relationship with magic users wasn’t nearly so... fraught.”

Jaime sought for something to say and came up blank. He held tightly to his empty cup.

After a moment, Ash reached forward to brush imaginary dust from the book.

“In any case. She would have liked it to go to use, not simply sit moldering on my shelf. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to read—”

“Yes,” Jaime said before Ash could finish. A flush rushed to his cheeks. “Sorry, sir. Yes. Please. I would be honored to read it.”

“I thought so.”

Ash took the cup from Jaime and set it on the table. He held the book out, letting out a breath. 

“Your magic is exceptionally strong,” he said quietly. “And I believe, despite what you may have done in the past, Jaime, that you still have a good heart.”

A tightness came to Jaime’s throat as he met Ash’s gaze.

Ash took one of Jaime’s hands and guided it to the book, then set it in his lap.

He gave Jaime a look that was solemn, curious, kind. It brought heat pricking behind his eyes.

“Don’t let that go to waste. Alright?”

Jaime gave a tiny nod. “Thank you, Ash,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

Reverently, Jaime eased the cover of the book open.

The pages were thick, creamy, and beautifully printed. Tiny notes in a looping script dotted the margins. He could imagine a mage dashing them off and running to share her theory with Ash. 

Jaime touched one of the sentences with a fingertip. He hesitated. 

“What—What was your friend’s name?” he asked.

“Daria,” Ash said, his voice holding her name like a treasure.

“Were you... Together?”

Ash shook his head. “No. Not in that sense.”

Jaime nodded slowly.

“I’ve never had an interest in that sort of relationship,” Ash said matter-of-factly. “But we were dear friends. And, in any case, she was determined to marry up after she finished her studies. Make a difference. I think she had half a mind to march into the palace and proposition the prince on the spot.” His mouth curved wryly. “Or the princess, for that matter.”

Jaime found himself smiling, his hand resting on the page. “I wish I could have met her.”

Ash looked at him.

Gave a thoughtful nod.

“Yes. I think that she would have liked you.”

The door to the infirmary burst open and Opal and Nadia bustled in with sandwiches and apples. Opal piled Jaime’s plate and pressed it into his hands.

She sat beside him and gave the book an eager look.

“It’s about healing with magic,” he murmured. “Ash is letting me read it.”

Her face lit up. She reached into her coat and scrawled in her notebook.

You tell me what you read.

Jaime's mouth twitched upward. “Of course.”

She searched his eyes and her smile softened.

She scribbled again.

You are happy?

He set a hand on her knee.

“I’m looking forward to reading it. Yes.”

Satisfied, she tucked the notebook away and dug into her food.

Jaime worked his way through both sandwiches at a measured pace, then took a bite of the apple. It was crisp and sweet, with an edge of juicy tartness that made his mouth water. He listened to Nadia chattering at Ash, pulling Opal in from time to time. The fact that Opal could only nod or shake her head didn’t seem to faze either of them.

Ash poured them all cups of water and refilled Jaime’s when he finished.

Once the food was gone, Jaime picked the book back up and turned to the introduction. It was written in an academic style, more dense than anything he’d attempted in many years, and he had to scrutinize each sentence carefully before moving to the next.

Opal settled in next to him and closed her eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest as he let himself be in the moment. 

He reached the table of contents and scanned the various topics. One in particular caught his eye, and he started to flip to that section.

Before he reached it, the door opened again, bringing a rush of cold wind.

Dimitri came in shouldering two full packs.

Ash looked up from where he was measuring crushed nasturtium flowers.

“Dimitri,” he greeted. “Are you... going somewhere?”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Jaime set the book aside carefully.

Dimitri glanced his way, something veiled behind his even tone. “The mage and I will be going to Tirsk to get some supplies before the snow comes.”

Opal sat bolt upright next to him.

Jaime stared at Dimitri.

Ash raised an eyebrow. “I see. I assume you’ve spoken to Khalida.”

Dimitri nodded.

“Hm. Then I will prepare some of Jaime’s tincture for the trip.” Ash rose and fetched a canteen, tipping the bitter liquid into it. “And I have a small list of things I need.”

Jaime felt Opal shaking his arm. Her eyes were wide.

“You won’t be able to come,” he said in an undertone. “There’s no use asking. Besides, it could be dangerous.”

She scowled.

“Opal.”

Her scowl melted back into concern.

“I know. But I’ll come back. I promise.” He hugged her and leaned in, speaking even more quietly. “Be good while I’m gone. And careful. Please.”

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder and he felt her nod.

When they broke apart, Jaime got out of the bed and smoothed the covers.

“When are we leaving?” he asked Dimitri.

“Now.” Dimitri handed him one of the packs. “You’ll need a better coat. We’ll get one on the way out of the village.”

A hundred questions warred for space on Jaime’s tongue, but he simply nodded.

Ash handed him the canteen. “A quarter of a glass daily. You can mix it with water, if needed.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Ash looked at Dimitri, his face lined even as he offered a tired smile. “Be careful, Dimitri. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Dimitri let Ash clasp his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said. “So do I.”

Chapter Text

Jaime snagged a bright yellow leaf from a bush and tucked it into one of the many pockets of the new coat.

It was thicker than the other one, padded to stave off the chill of winter. It was less worn, too, with none of the careful flower-embroidered repair work the old coat had.

He’d thought they would have him put the brown coat back into the pile of castoffs. He’d run a regretful finger over the flowers before he took it off, setting it aside. But Dimitri had handed it back to him and let him stow it in the loft.

This coat was a deep green, like the moss that tucked itself between river rocks. It was soft. Pretty.

Right now, it was also a bit too warm, trapping heat against his chest as they picked their way down a steep run of mountainside. He braced his palm on the pale birch trunks as they went, turning sideways to keep his feet from slipping through the dry, shifting soil.

The night he’d come to Hearthstone was a blur, but he distinctly remembered switchbacks on a narrow, well-trodden trail. He did not remember scaling an incline so steep he was almost sitting.

Jaime decided that this was a shortcut. And judging by Dimitri’s dogged pace, even a more direct route was insufficient to get them on the way with enough haste.

Tirsk was, he guessed, a journey of two or three days at a reasonable speed. At this rate, they might make it before tomorrow’s sunset.

His mind had run through half a dozen worst-case scenarios before they’d even left the village.

Such as: Khalida had ordered Dimitri to take Jaime far away enough from camp and kill him, to finally exact the pack’s blood debt away from prying eyes. Or she intended to have Dimitri sell him in the city, instead, and take what coin they could get to bolster Hearthstone’s stores. Or they’d decided to simply leave him somewhere, his magic forever out of reach. Or, or, or.

But even as habit took his thoughts through every negative outcome, he’d dismissed them all.

There had been no signs that they’d decided to get rid of him. Khalida had been pleased with his work. She’d said so.

And the pack was clearly deferring to her wishes, as well as Dimitri’s orders to leave Jaime be as he served his penance by strengthening the pack. They hadn’t accepted him, not really, except perhaps for Nadia, Alexei, and Ash. But he didn’t expect that.

At the very least, they hadn’t hurt him—he’d gone a whole moon cycle without anyone raising a hand to him. He knew some of them wanted to, a look in the eyes of Abed, Priya, even Max, that said they weren’t entirely satisfied with this brand of revenge.

But they never followed through on it. They respected their leaders too much for that.

So, no, he told the more cynical part of himself. He didn’t think Dimitri was taking him out of the village to kill him, sell him, get some private beating in.

They had a list of supplies. A job to do.

If he had to guess, he would say that Dimitri had asked Khalida for this task, and not the other way around. The man was just as restless as his wolf had been in the cage, his expression just as hunted at times.

Maybe, Jaime hoped, getting out into the world for a bit would help.

Jaime resolved to find something for Opal along the way, a pretty rock or a feather, to show he’d been thinking of her. And perhaps he could collect some of the lowland herbs that Ash was lacking in his stores.

He glanced ahead to make sure he was still keeping pace.

When he did, a rock gave way under his foot. The weight of his pack tipped him backwards, and he landed hard and started to slide.

He threw out his arm for the next tree, but his fingers closed on a flap of bark that tore away with a snap.

Just before he careened into Dimitri, he leaned sideways and grabbed a bush with both hands.

Thorns dragged along his palms, but he held tight.

Dimitri turned.

Jaime got his balance and stood.

“Sorry,” he said. “I um, tripped.”

“It’s fine.” Dimitri glanced up the mountain, then at Jaime. “You should heal your hands, though.”

Jaime blinked. He was only scratched, really, but the marks did sting. He looked down at his hands and let out a breath, willing the cuts closed.

“Thank you,” Jaime said.

“The terrain levels out soon,” Dimitri said, turning away.

With a nod, Jaime resumed the course, watching his foot placement carefully as they continued downward. They didn’t speak again as they descended.

The steep mountain gave way to easier slopes, then to a gently rolling foothill and the valley floor. When they finally stepped out from the treeline, the evening sun stretched their shadows over rippling grass.

He expected Dimitri to pull back into the cover of the forest for the night.

Instead, Dimitri pressed forward with the same grim look on his face.

Jaime hurried to follow.

After another quarter hour, they stopped seemingly at random.

“We’re here,” Dimitri said.

Jaime frowned. “...where?”

Dimitri’s voice took on a frosty edge. “You don’t recognize it?”

Unease came unbidden to flutter in Jaime’s stomach. He scanned the area more closely, the autumn-yellow grass and stones and shrubs. It looked like... nothing.

Then his gaze caught on a small tree with a distinctive twist in its trunk.

He remembered that tree, because he’d created it. An illusion.

His next breath caught. “Oh.”

Dimitri set his pack down beside a rock. “Come on.”

“But—why are we here?” Jaime asked.

Dimitri took a step forward and vanished behind the wards. His voice came from nowhere.

“Because we’re going to destroy it.”

Crossing through the ward made Dimitri’s stomach lurch for more reasons than one.

The entire camp flashed into existence in an instant, replacing the barren field.

Everything was the same.

The glint of sun off the cages. The wide table.

The rusty bloodstains where the hunters had fallen.

It was silent.

He could hear his own heart racing, sense his wolf snarling and afraid in the recesses of his mind.

He gritted his teeth.

He could handle this.

The mage came to stand beside him.

Dimitri could have told him earlier. He almost had.

But he’d... wanted to see what the mage would do if he didn’t have time to school his reactions.

The mage's gaze was fixed on a particular patch of dried blood. He’d gone pale, his hands clenched into fists.

Dimitri looked away. “Khalida had them buried. We don’t leave the dead above ground. Not even our enemies.”

The mage’s voice came out almost in a whisper. “Oh.”

Dimitri swallowed a bitter taste.

“Take down your wards first,” he said. “The ones that hide this place.”

The mage closed his eyes.

Pale golden threads appeared in the air around them, tightly woven except for a frayed space high above.

The mage inhaled sharply.

As if a hundred knives had flown through the sky, the threads severed. Instead of falling to the earth like real threads, they simply melted away.

The mage looked up. “It's done.”

Dimitri frowned. “Would another mage be able to do that to the wards you just finished?”

“Not without a fight.” The mage gave a small shake of his head at Dimitri’s perturbed look. “I made these. I know how they work, and where they've grown weak. The wards around Hearthstone are strong. I promise.”

Dimitri pushed the worry from his mind. “Very well. Good.”

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. First, a fire.

Reaching into the pouch he’d prepared, he took a handful of dry leaves and arranged them in the center of the pit. Next, thin kindling sticks formed a lean-to above them, jagged and impatient, ready to catch the sparks from Dimitri’s flint.

A tiny fire crackled to life and licked up the kindling.

When Dimitri rose, the mage’s face was blank.

“We’re going to burn it,” Dimitri said. “All of it.”

This prompted a flinch.

Dimitri looked at the mage. The tense line of his shoulders. The distance in his eyes.

Something in Dimitri splintered and he let out a breath. “Is there... anything you want to retrieve first, mage?”

The mage shook his head, staring at the ground. “No. No, there’s nothing.”

With a sharp nod, Dimitri picked up a torch and touched it to the growing fire. It took to the dry wood easily, snapping when it hit sap.

He lit a second and held it out to the mage.

It looked as if the mage would shy away. Then he reached out and grasped it.

“When we’re done, no one will be able to use this place again.” Dimitri tightened his grip on the torch.

The mage followed him to the biggest tent, his breathing uneven.

Dimitri held the torch toward the fabric.

Just before the flame brushed the tent, the mage cried out.

“No, wait—wait!”

Dimitri’s torch hovered in midair.

The mage spoke in a rush. “There’s—please, we don’t have to destroy everything.”

Dimitri spun around, hot emotion bubbling to the surface.

He’d hoped that, maybe, a month with the pack had done something to change the mage’s feelings about wolves. About hunting. Perhaps he’d been wrong.

But the mage’s careful mask had cracked—not into disgust or regret or even anger, but pleading.

“There’s still life here,” the mage said, the torch trembling in his hand. “Plants, birds. There’s a big rabbit warren over there, hidden beneath the woodpile. They’d have nothing to shelter them from the winter.”

That was enough to make Dimitri pull his hand back.

“I know a spell,” the mage said, his speech slowing now that he had Dimitri’s attention. “For magical fire. It won’t consume anything that lives.”

The mage lifted his chin in a movement so minute that Dimitri would have missed it at any other moment. “The rest will burn.”

Dimitri looked at him for a moment, then took the second torch and doused both in a bucket of rainwater.

“Okay.”

The mage planted his feet and sucked in a deep breath, raising his hands. “Incendium animata.”

Twin spheres of flame burst to life in the mage’s palms.

For an instant, the mage seemed to shrink back. Then he straightened and turned toward Dimitri.

“Ready?”

Dimitri nodded. “Do it.”

In one long, arcing motion, the mage sent fire spiraling outwards. It roared, latching onto the tents and setting the butchering table ablaze. The inferno burned a deep orange, with pure white at its base, and in the space of a heartbeat it consumed the camp.

Dimitri took a step back.

“It’s okay,” the mage called over the noise. “It won’t hurt you.”

The fire rose high above their heads, coming closer and closer until Dimitri stepped back again. The mage’s shoulder pressed against his. A narrow circle held around them, a dot in the midst of a maelstrom.

It was deafening, blinding, raging with power.

But when Dimitri reached out, the fire writhing around his fingers was as gentle and cool as the edge of a summer stream.

“How...” he breathed.

Then he felt the mage move.

In the time it took Dimitri to take in a breath, the fire vanished as quickly as it had come.

The world fell silent again.

Dimitri’s pulse hammered in his ears.

Around them, the camp had been reduced to nothing, smoke rising in black plumes from the ruined remains. Fabric turned to dust, wood turned to ash, metal turned to flecks of ore.

Meanwhile, the grasses and bushes were untouched, still rustling gently in the breeze.

Everything the hunters had left behind was gone.

Everything except the row of cages.

Dimitri’s throat tightened.

They weren’t even tarnished.

“No...”

He felt all at once like he would disappear too, fall to worthless cinders, as surely as the rest of the camp.

The mage took in a shaky breath beside him.

“I can’t destroy them,” he said quietly. “Not like the rest. The magic forged into them runs too deep.”

The mage took a step forward.

“But I can change them.”

Dimitri managed a nod.

The mage approached the cages with purpose, spreading his arms in a burst of magic that sent waves rolling across the camp.

Dimitri stood absolutely still.

For a moment, nothing happened. The mage’s frame started to tremble.

Then the cages rose into the air and spun.

They began to bend and shift, melting into a mass of liquid metal. The mage twisted his hands and the mass blurred.

Light flared around him like a falling star.

Dimitri shielded his face.

When the light dimmed, the mage stood where the cages had been.

In their place was a likeness of a howling wolf, its head raised proudly to the sky.

It shone a brilliant silver.

The mage turned to Dimitri. His chest rose and fell with effort.

An unseen wind raised his hair.

His eyes glowed molten gold.

He opened his mouth to speak, and Dimitri half expected the rumble of thunder.

But the mage’s voice was soft.

“For the ones you couldn’t bury,” he said. “May they all return to your ancestors.”

The glow in his eyes faded.

He fell to his knees.

Dimitri sank down beside him, beneath the shadow of the wolf.

“That was...”

Words failed him.

The mage pressed his hands into the earth.

At last, Dimitri simply said, “thank you.”

The mage’s eyes were closed as he nodded.

Dimitri sensed the sun dip behind the horizon and he stood.

The mage struggled to rise, fell back on one knee.

Dimitri extended his hand.

It was deep in the night when Jaime woke to the sound of a wolfy whine.

Jaime freed himself from a twisted blanket and turned over. The air was chilly, but he was still warm.

Nature had given him strength again, this time in a rush of power so intense it burned through him as surely as the fire through the camp.

The magic of the forest had wanted the hunters’ blight removed from its borders as desperately as Dimitri had. (As Jaime had.)

Now the forest was content. Alive with the light of a full moon.

Dimitri didn’t seem to share the forest’s ease.

He tossed in his sleep, black fur rippling along his back.

Another low whine escaped him.

Jaime sat up, kneeling an arm’s length away.

“Dimitri,” he murmured experimentally.

The wolf didn’t wake—instead curling tighter on himself and whimpering.

“You’re safe,” Jaime said quietly. “The hunters are gone. The cages are gone. You can shift, and you’ll still be safe. Your pack, too. I’ll... I’ll help make sure of it. Let yourself be free.”

Dimitri was still for a moment. Then he let out a long sigh and uncurled to rest on his side.

Jaime watched the rise and fall of his chest become even.

Sleep had fled from Jaime’s mind and he rose, slipping out of the tent to lay beneath the inky sky. The cold breeze brushed his skin and he relaxed into the earth.

Every muscle and bone in his body ached, but he breathed easily.

The hunters were gone. And he would never return to that life.

His eyes traced the few winter constellations he knew. The archer, the mermaid, the tiger.

A shooting star blazed just above the treeline.

Behind him, the tent flap rustled.

Jaime quickly shifted to a seated position.

Dimitri didn’t say anything. He sat near Jaime and tipped his head up to look at the yellow moon.

“Can you... sense the pack?” Jaime asked.

“Mm.” Dimitri leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. After a moment, he nodded. “They’re happy. I’m sure Opal went out with them.”

Jaime smiled, imagining her racing beneath the stars.

For a while, they sat in the quiet of the night. Wind whistled softly in the treetops and an owl hooted somewhere far off.

Just when tiredness started to drag at Jaime’s eyes again, Dimitri cleared his throat.

“You’re afraid of fire, aren’t you?”

Jaime turned to find the man’s dark eyes on him.

He tamped down a spike of fear in his chest and nodded slowly.

(The hunters had realized that, too, early on. It hadn’t gone well.)

But Dimitri just looked like he was puzzling something out. “Why? You can control it with little more than a word.”

Jaime swallowed. “Not always.”

Dimitri waited.

Jaime found the words coming out against his better judgement. “I lost my family in a fire. Our home burned.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened, then his brow furrowed. He seemed to hesitate. “Was it... wolves?”

That took Jaime aback. “What? No. No. It was an accident. There was a storm. Lightning. It happened fast, and I—couldn’t stop it.”

“Oh.” Dimitri looked away. “I see.”

“People said it was a magical storm, later.” Jaime crossed his arms over his stomach. Suddenly, he felt the bite of the wind keenly. “I’d never seen anything like it.”

Dimitri spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” Jaime fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. “But thank you.”

He watched a pair of little bats flap and dive after a bug. 

"Thank you for letting me use the other spell," he said. "For the fire."

"Well." Dimitri inhaled and leaned back, his mouth curving. "I certainly didn't want to be responsible for the fall of a whole rabbit empire."

Surprised, Jaime let out a soft laugh.

"No. No, neither did I."

A cloud crossed the moon, darkening the forest.

Jaime mulled over his next words before he spoke them. Better, he thought, to be... transparent. “I won’t be able to do much magic for at least a day or two. Maybe little things, but nothing more.”

Dimitri simply nodded. “That won’t be a problem.”

"There is a spell I can use on the packs, though," Jaime said. "It makes them almost weightless. I remembered it after Lars left."

"I wouldn't say no to that." Dimitri rose and stepped back toward the tent.

He paused long enough to speak over his shoulder.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

Chapter Text

When Jaime opened his eyes, his dreams slipped away in flashes of fire and silver and small hands.

He didn’t reach for them.

Instead, he tried to get up. He only made it a few inches, wincing as he went to brace his weight on his elbows that refused to hold up.

Everything hurt.

He swallowed a wave of nausea and let his head drop back against the pillow.

A steady stream of rain tap-tapped on the tent above him. He focused his attention on it, taking shallow breaths until he could move his eyes without the world spinning.

The urge to pull a blanket over his head and sleep this off called like a siren.

But that wasn’t an option, so he slowly rolled onto one side and let the next rush of dizziness rise and fall.

Thankfully, Dimitri was still asleep, one arm over his face and one leg stretched out from under his blanket.

Jaime bit the inside of his cheek and managed to get himself to a cross-legged seat.

His next inhale stung in his lungs.

He felt emptied out. Brittle. Like wood left too long in the sun. Where he’d been burning with heat last night, now he found himself shivering even in the confines of the tent.

Fingers clumsy, he fished out Ash’s tincture and took two swallows that he figured would approximate a quarter glass. The bitter taste made him shudder.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his face. His palms smarted at the touch and he dropped them, frowning at thin, faintly raised scratches lining the skin. He must have flailed in the night during his dreams. His cheeks warmed. He just hoped he’d been quiet.

A boom of thunder cut through the air.

“Mage?”

Jaime raised his head to find Dimitri watching him, dark hair falling over eyes made darker by sleep.

Jaime searched for something to say. “It’s... raining.”

After a moment, Dimitri spoke in a hoarse voice. “We’d better get going. The storm could make crossing the river a challenge and I don’t want to try it in the dark.”

“Alright.” Jaime steeled himself and clambered to his feet, bracing against the dizziness that followed.

Dimitri looked up at him. “Check your reserves?”

Jaime let his eyes close and reached for his magic.

His chest squeezed tight as he searched and found nothing.

It was... cold. The ashes of a doused fire.

Swallowing a painful lump in his throat, Jaime opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t—I won’t be able to do anything.”

Dimitri stood.

“We’ll manage.”

They pulled on layers before stepping out of the tent into the rain. Chilly drops hit the back of Jaime’s neck and ran down his spine. He shivered again.

The storm showed no sign of letting up even after they’d stowed their supplies and eaten a hasty cold breakfast beneath one of the trees.

Dimitri looked into the grey shadows of the forest. “Shall we?”

Jaime nodded.

They set across the field, pausing for a moment in the remains of the camp. The storm had washed away the remnants of ash and soot, leaving only dark streaks behind.

The wolf statue gleamed with rain, half-shrouded in rising mist.

They stood before it for the space of a breath.

“It’s beautiful,” Dimitri said quietly.

Tears pricked Jaime’s eyes as he looked away from the silver throat raised to the sky. In the daylight, it reminded him starkly of Opal’s mother. “Thank you.”

Water squelched around his boots as they made their way through the lower part of the valley. He tried to anchor his mind to each step.

Instead, worry pulled his thoughts far away.

He hadn’t ever pushed this far with his magic—not even when the hunters had driven him the hardest.

Was it possible to push too far? So far that it wouldn’t come back?

He couldn’t remember his mother ever saying anything about that. But her lessons had been so, so long ago, and it wasn’t as though he’d had anyone to ask since. Maybe he was making something out of nothing, and he was simply overtired.

Then again, perhaps this was the price of nature’s help, twice now, in righting some of his wrongs.

A last burst of light, then darkness.

He found his hands shaking and shoved them into his pockets.

Dimitri made a quiet traveling companion, and for once, Jaime found himself wishing the other man would fill the silence just to give him something else to focus on—something to keep his mind from turning the same questions over again and again.

But then they passed through another long stretch of forest, this one with pale, twisting trees that sent their roots in arcs along the ground, and it took all of his concentration to avoid snagging his foot and falling. (Twice, he very nearly took a spill anyway.)

Slowly, the rain thinned to a faint drizzle. Jaime wiped water from his eyes. 

“How far is the city after the river?” he asked as they crested a hill.

“Not far. There are smaller settlements and farms outlying Tirsk, but I'd prefer not to linger there. We should make it to the city proper by moonrise.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

It was closer than he’d thought, then. Or perhaps Dimitri traveled quicker than the hunters’ trading parties.

At last, the rain stopped entirely and the sun peeked out from behind paling clouds. The warmth touched his skin and he tipped his face up into it.

Somewhere between the hills, Jaime had managed to tamp his worries back down. Either his magic would come back, or it wouldn’t. At the moment, there was nothing he could do to change the outcome. He would simply have to wait.

He was able to muster a smile at the white heads of late-blooming yarrow that dotted the clearing before them.

“Let’s stop for lunch,” Dimitri said, sliding his pack down onto a flat stone. “I’ll see if I can get a couple of fish and some wood dry enough to burn.”

Jaime frowned. “You want to stop for that long?”

Dimitri looked at him for a second, then shrugged. “We’re making better time than I thought.”

With that, he retrieved his hook and line and made his way toward the pond.

Water soaked into Jaime’s knees as he sank heavily into the grass. He rested his weight on his heels and set his hands on his thighs.

Then he closed his eyes and allowed himself a few stolen moments to let the sounds of the forest wash over him.

Birds twittered from the tree line and a bumblebee paused long enough to buzz curiously around his head. A light breeze rustled through dry leaves and the distant screech of a squirrel brought Opal’s grin to his mind.

He breathed in the smell of damp earth and blew it back out.

As he did, he opened his eyes and turned slowly.

Magic or no, there was work to be done.

Dimitri tracked down dry wood first, pulling pieces from beneath the shelter of a downed tree. Without it there would be no point in collecting fish. Unlike Opal, he had no desire to eat them raw. Even in his wolf form.

His wolf was... closer, today.

Instead of behind a door, thick and closed and locked, he felt as though his wolf was just behind a curtain—waiting.

The call of the nearly-full moon tugged at his mind, urging him to shift, run, draw near to his pack.

After an entire lunar cycle cut off from it, having his wolf at hand was almost foreign.

And, strangest of all, his wolf seemed interested in the mage. Concerned about him.

The conflicting feelings itched under his skin.

The mage was clearly flagging, holding himself with the stiffness of someone in pain, and his eyes seemed continually far away.

Dimitri noticed it. His wolf certainly noticed it.

Which was why he now had his line in a little stream as silvery fish wove past.

The mage wasn’t pack. Wasn’t a friend. Wasn’t even a wolf.

But, at the same time, Dimitri didn’t know if he could firmly call him an enemy any longer, either.

Not when the mage had spent the last moon doing everything he could to protect Hearthstone without so much as a sharp look at any of the wolves—and had destroyed his old camp with a stony determination that rivaled Dimitri’s own.

He was, when it came down to it, confusing more than he was threatening.

Dimitri had seen with his own eyes what the mage was capable of doing without any sign of remorse.

Now, though, he’d also seen a different side. One that seemed gentle, skilled, quietly curious, even kind.

Which was the truth?

Could they both be?

Dimitri sighed.

Things used to be much simpler. In some ways, he missed that.

While he waited for a fish to take his bait, he briefly opened his awareness to the pack bond.

Feelings of warmth and contentment trickled through.

It settled in his chest, and he found himself still smiling when he finally pulled first one good-sized fish and then another from the stream. He cleaned them and hung them from a stick, tucked his little cache of dry wood under one arm, and set off back toward the hillside where he’d left his things.

Sunlight made the damp grass glow a bright green. He traced his previous steps until he found the mage kneeling next to the flat rock.

Their last bits of bread and a sliced apple sat atop it.

The mage’s back was to him.

“Got some fish,” Dimitri said. He deposited the wood onto another stone, large enough that it would hold a small fire away from the wet earth.

The mage’s head rose, eyes owl-wide and alarmed. 

Dimitri frowned.

Red stained a cloth at the mage’s feet and lingered on the tips of his fingers where he held another strip of cloth, halfway wrapped around his forearm.

Dimitri dropped into a crouch beside him. “What happened?”

“I—” the mage twisted his arm further from Dimitri. “I cut myself doing the apple. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri glanced at his knife where it glinted on the stone. It was already clean.

“Let me see,” Dimitri said, holding out one hand.

Hesitation froze the mage in place. His eyes flicked up to meet Dimitri’s for an instant, then he slowly stretched out the injured arm.

Dimitri unwound the cloth with one hand, the other supporting the mage’s arm. His skin felt chilled beneath Dimitri's touch.

When the cloth came away, Dimitri hissed between his teeth.

The cut was clean but deep, a diagonal slash just below the mage’s wrist. Rivulets of blood still ran down his arm.

“How did you manage that?” Dimitri asked. A stab of unease pricked up his spine. It crossed a major bloodline, even Dimitri knew that much, and seemed at an odd angle for cutting fruit. Had the mage done it intentionally? Although, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been trying to wrap it up, would he?

But the mage’s hands were both trembling hard, hard enough that using a knife would have been difficult, and he gave a fervent shake of his head. “I don’t—I’m not entirely sure. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Dimitri said, frowning at the cut and the crumpled, bloody rags. “But did you clean it?”

The mage looked away. “I... no.”

Dimitri gave him an unimpressed look.

“It’s fine,” the mage said quickly. “I’ll just wrap—”

Dimitri cut him off with a shake of his head. “We can’t risk an infection when you can’t heal yourself. I’ll clean it.”

He watched the mage visibly swallow an argument and bite his lower lip.

Dimitri released his hand and retrieved their medical kit from his bag.

The sharp smell of disinfectant cut through the air as soon as he unscrewed the small bottle. He reached for the mage’s hand again and the man offered it.

“This will sting,” Dimitri said.

The mage simply gave a nod and tensed in anticipation. When Dimitri poured the disinfectant across the cut, he barely flinched. The bloodflow had slowed and Dimitri used a clean cloth to dab the remaining streaks of it from the mage’s skin.

Ash’s jar of salve, pale green and sweet, slid smoothly over the wound. The mage still didn’t react, even when he wound a bandage around his forearm and tied it snugly. He just held completely still, save for the lessening shake of his hands. Dimitri didn’t think he was even breathing.

Dimitri turned the man’s wrist one way and then the other, ensuring no blood started to seep through the cloth. When he was satisfied, he carefully let go.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

The mage inhaled at last and touched the bandage with one finger, his head bent. He spoke quietly. “It’s... much better. Thank you, Dimitri.”

The sun caught a lighter streak in the mage’s lengthening curls, making it look almost gold against the brown.

Dimitri pulled his eyes away. “No trouble.”

He moved away, busying himself with the little fire. The fish ended up more charred than anything, but the smell still made Dimitri’s mouth water.

“Thank you,” the mage said when he accepted his fish.

They picked the meat off, Dimitri’s fingers hot and stinging from the steam. He polished off half the apple and left the other half for the mage, mentally plotting the best path to get them to the river. His usual route cut through a particularly low spot that was likely to be impassably muddy. They’d have to stay along the ridge.

He’d nearly finished his bit of bread when the mage spoke next.

“Dimitri?”

His voice was hesitant.

Dimitri looked up to find hazel eyes fixed on him.

“Hm?”

“I...” The mage seemed to make an effort to draw himself up a little. “I have a favor to ask.”

One of Dimitri’s eyebrows rose. He wiped his fingers in the grass and rested his hands on his knees.

“What is it?”

“When we get to Tirsk,” the mage began, his hands clasped tight in his lap, “I—I don’t want anyone to know I’m a mage. Please.”

That was so out of the realm of what Dimitri had expected that he felt the other eyebrow raise. He just looked at the mage.

“It wouldn’t be safe,” the mage said quickly. “Not for either of us. Just... please.”

Frowning now, Dimitri tilted his head to one side. “Because your magic is drained?”

The mage shifted. “...partially.”

When Dimitri didn’t say anything else, the mage swallowed visibly and looked away.

“There are people who would find the prospect of a mage who has already been bound... tempting.” He spoke in a neutral tone. “And if they did, you would be the only thing standing in the way.”

A sick feeling expanded in Dimitri’s stomach.

“Oh.”

The mage dropped his head. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“Okay.” Dimitri blew out a breath. “Okay. We’ll be careful.”

Something loosened in the mage’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“No one knows Hearthstone is a wolf pack, either,” Dimitri said. “We’re just traders from a remote village somewhere. We’ll stick to that.”

The mage nodded. “Of course.”

They gathered up their supplies and started to walk again.

The mage reached the top of the hill before Dimitri did. Dimitri’s eyes caught on the black of the mage collar.

Another tendril of the sick feeling squirmed inside him.

“Mage,” he said.

Turning, the man shot Dimitri a careful look. “That... might be a giveaway,” he said.

“What?” Dimitri paused, then cleared his throat. “Oh. Yes. I, um... Jaime.”

Jaime waited.

Dimitri pulled his scarf off and moved toward the mage—Jaime.

The familiar stiffness took over when Dimitri stepped into his space, but Jaime didn’t pull away as Dimitri wrapped the scarf around his neck and smoothed the ends.

“There. You’d better wear that while we’re in the city.” He stepped back. “If you want.”

Jaime brushed one hand over the tassels.

When he looked up, he wore the ghost of a smile. “I will. Thank you.”

Chapter Text

As afternoon waned into evening, a biting wind started up from the east and cleared the sky of the last traces of the storm.

Jaime tucked Dimitri’s scarf higher on his neck, running his fingers over the material again. The wool was skillfully knitted and dyed the rusty red that came from buckwheat, or perhaps wild apple bark.

It smelled like pine trees and cold air and campfire smoke. It was soft. Warm. And having the collar covered made him feel...

He couldn’t name it, exactly.

Whatever it was, he felt more like a person than he had in a long time.

When he lowered his hand, his gaze caught on the white of the bandage peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve. The ghost of a touch lingered at his wrist.

But beneath the bandage, the cut throbbed dully still.

He bit his lip.

One second, he’d been fine. The next—bleeding onto the wet grass.

“Do you hear the river?” Dimitri asked. He’d paused mid-step and Jaime halted beside him.

Jaime strained to hear. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. Are we close?”

Dimitri nodded. His hair whipped across his forehead as he turned his head to look up. “As soon as we crest that hill we should see it. We’ll be across before it’s fully dark.”

They pressed up the hill. At the top, the wind howled strong enough to unravel the scarf. Jaime snatched it before it could blow away, tucking it tighter around his neck, and looked down.

The river ran through the valley below them, the rush of water now just audible to Jaime’s ears. In the half-darkness, the water looked black and shiny as spilled ink.

And in the distance, the spires and light of Tirsk stood out stark against the sky.

They were almost there.

Jaime willed his aching legs to keep going, measuring his pace down the hill so he wouldn’t tumble into a heap at the bottom.

They met up with a small road, the first they’d seen, and dust rose around their feet as they neared the river.

Dimitri squinted ahead. He frowned. “I don’t see the bridge.”

“No?”

Shaking his head, Dimitri picked up his dogged pace again. Jaime hurried to catch up.

The river was loud, and moving faster than Jaime would’ve expected at this time of year, with white rapids crashing around rocks and sending a cool spray into the air.

“Shit,” Dimitri muttered.

Posts stood on either side of the bank, torn ropes and wood fragments dangling uselessly in the wind.

No bridge.

Jaime eyed the water. It looked deep. And cold. And the rocks sticking through the surface weren’t nearly close together enough to form a viable path.

Dimitri dragged one hand down his face then tangled it in his hair. He turned to Jaime slowly, his expression halfway between a question and a grimace.

“Is there... Do you have enough magic to do anything?”

Jaime breathed in and out. He felt for where his power should have been replenishing.

What he found could barely be called a wisp.

He winced and ducked his head. “No. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“No.” Dimitri sighed. “It’s not your fault.”

After a moment of silence, Dimitri let out a groan and dropped his hand. “Nine hells... There’s no way we can cross here. I have no idea where the next crossing could be.”

Jaime’s pulse picked up at the frustration in Dimitri’s tone. But it wasn’t directed at him, he reminded himself. It wasn’t. He took in another deep breath of the wet-rock air and made himself focus outward.

Peering far down the bank, his eyes landed on a copse of towering trees.

Their pale trunks gave off an eerie glow in the dying light of sunset. But—one of them looked like it had fallen over the river.

“Dimitri.” Jaime gestured. “Would that work?”

Dimitri followed his gaze and brightened. “Oh. Maybe.”

When they reached the grove, they stood side by side and considered the downed tree. It stretched all the way to the other bank, its root column half-buried in mud and a smattering of broken branches jutting out halfway over the water.

“Look. Someone’s already crossed,” Dimitri said, indicating muddy shoeprints across the bark.

Jaime scanned the water that ran beneath the tree, where more branches and the remnants of a wrecked wheel protruded from the black surface.

“I think we should try it,” Dimitri said. “Otherwise we’ll be out here all night.”

Jaime steeled himself. “Okay.”

Dimitri scaled the side of the roots first, planting his feet on the trunk experimentally. “It’s wet,” he called over the rumble of the river. “It’ll be slippery.”

He reached down to offer Jaime a hand up.

Jaime took it and scrambled up the uneven surface, holding tight to Dimitri’s fingers.

When he was fully standing on the makeshift bridge, Dimitri let go and turned toward the other side.

“Let’s go slowly.”

“Alright.” Jaime watched his feet as he took step after step. The wood gave faint creaks beneath weight, but remained reassuringly firm.

Dimitri reached the halfway point and slowed to a crawl as the trunk grew thinner, arms thrown out wide to steady his balance.

Jaime took a careful step over a knot. He could do this.

Just as he hit the halfway point himself, pain exploded in his side, sudden and sharp enough that he gasped and reeled back.

He stumbled.

Started to fall.

Panic took over as he fought to regain his footing, but he was pitching to one side and he was going to hit the water and go under and—

Dimitri grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Jaime crashed into him, his feet slamming back onto the trunk.

They were both breathing hard.

Dimitri’s hands gripped his shoulders. Jaime felt himself shaking.

“Thank you.” His voice came out breathless. “I—I’m sorry, I slipped.”

“You’re alright?” Dimitri asked.

“I’m alright,” Jaime said quickly. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri released him, hands brushing down his arms as he did. He was frowning. “You don’t have to apologize, mage. Jaime. It was an accident. We’re fine.”

Jaime’s eyes were wide as he looked into Dimitri’s face, his heart still pounding, his side still aching. A protest rose on Jaime’s lips. It was his fault, he’d been careless, he should have—

But the man seemed serious.

So Jaime simply nodded.

Dimitri opened his mouth, then closed it and turned back.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

Jaime took each step gingerly, testing his footing before moving again. When he hit solid earth, he let out a sigh of relief. He leaned forward to brace his hands on his legs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“We should not do that again,” he said, still out of breath. “I think I’d rather walk all the way to Okrya.”

Dimitri gave a deep, surprised laugh. “Alright. We’ll ask around in the city. See where the next closest crossing is.”

Jaime straightened, letting his gaze refocus on the landscape ahead.

They weren’t in the high wilderness anymore, that was for certain.

Clusters of light dotted the low, rolling hills and valleys. Farms and little villages, Dimitri had said. Jaime swallowed. They were going to see so many people.

“Ready?” Dimitri asked.

Jaime nodded. “Ready.”

Dimitri started walking first. Jaime hesitated for an instant. He reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it, twisting to peer at his side.

Even in the dim light, the dark purple and black of fresh bruising stood out against his ribs.

Jaime bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

That—This didn’t make any sense.

But Dimitri was already a dozen paces ahead.

He dropped his shirt and quickened his pace to catch up, pushing down a wince as muscles moved beneath tender skin.

They made it back to the road, walking between a set of wheel ruts. The road curved, briefly hiding the city from view and pulling them back behind a line of trees. At last, the wind had died down, leaving only the hint of a night breeze to rustle through the dry leaves.

Jaime looked up at the sky.

A shape moved smoothly above them, a dark blur speckled with light. The night rippled faintly around its wings.

He inhaled, reaching for Dimitri’s arm. “Look. Dimitri. Look!”

Dimitri stopped and looked up.

“What?”

Jaime pointed. “It’s a Starbird. Can you see it?”

Dimitri followed the movement of Jaime’s hand.

He made a soft sound. “I see it. What’s a... Starbird?”

The bird passed directly above them, wings silent and dotted with pinpricks of white.

“They’re magical.” Jaime traced the last trail of the bird’s flight. “They only fly at night, and their underbelly and wings glow to mimic the stars.”

They watched it glide away.

Dimitri let out a quiet hum. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“They’re rare,” Jaime said, hushed. “I haven’t seen one since I was young. They’re seabirds, normally, I think. This one must be far from home.”

“Well.” Dimitri let out a breath. “I hope it finds its way back.”

Jaime gave a small smile. “Me too.”

As they neared Tirsk, they found the main road lined with people. Wagons. Donkeys. Families. Torchlight and laughter pushed back the darkness even as the moon began to rise.

Jaime pressed closer to Dimitri. He asked in an undertone, “is it always this... busy?”

Dimitri shook his head, brows drawn together. “There must be something happening.”

The city streets were equally lively, with corner stalls calling out for passersby to buy hot tea and stuffed buns and packets of candied nuts.

Pale paper snowflakes hung on the front of the stalls and the banners along the streets.

“A... snowflake night?” Dimitri shot Jaime a skeptical sideways glance. Jaime shrugged.

A group of children passed beside them, giggling and licking sugar from their fingers. Some of them had snowflakes painted in thin white lines on their cheeks.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “It looks like a snowflake night.”

Jaime gave a soft snort. “It does.”

“The place we usually stay is on the west side of the city.” Dimitri leaned to look down the crowded road. “But... we may need to take the long way.”

“Okay.” Jaime pushed his hands into his pockets and followed Dimitri around a corner onto a side street where houses sat close together in neat rows of wood and brick.

They followed narrow streets through several twists and turns until they merged back onto the main road, verging on a wide town square packed with people.

Along one side of the square, a group lifted stringed instruments and started to play a jaunty tune. Jaime glanced from one place to the next. Some people were dancing, some eating, some just standing. Others, like him and Dimitri, seemed to be focused on getting to their next destination. It was so... much.

“This way,” Dimitri said, gesturing toward another branching street.

They wove their way through the press of bodies toward the other side.

Just as they neared the edge of the crowd, a line of dancers cut in front of them, laughing and swaying as they walked. A woman grabbed Dimitri’s arm. A man grabbed Jaime’s. And before Jaime knew it, they were plunging into the crush at an increasing pace.

Jaime struggled to pull his arm away, the layering of too many voices ringing in his ears. He got loose and stepped back, stumbling against a sharp shoulder.

“Dimitri?”

Someone set off some kind of fire cracker in the middle of the square and it snapped and flashed. A cry of surprise went up, followed by cheering. The music grew louder.

“Dimitri!”

Jaime searched the sea of faces, but he couldn’t see.

He whipped his head around looking for anything he could get on top of.

There was a small table back the way he’d come—the way he thought he’d come—at the edge of the square. He elbowed his way through the mass of people, his head pounding. Just as he grasped the side of the table, a lone voice snagged his attention.

“Leave me alone.”

It was a high, clear voice.

Insignificant in comparison to the noise behind him. But impossible to ignore.

He turned aside.

Away from the heat of the festivities, the night air sent a shiver up Jaime’s spine. He paused to listen.

“Stop,” the voice said, louder.

There was a slap and another voice growled. “You little—”

Jaime sped around the corner and found himself standing at the threshold of a grim alley.

Three men stood clustered into one dirty corner.

In front of them, a young woman had her back against the brick. Her hair was so fair it shone almost white, and it lay haphazardly around her face as if pulled from a braid.

“Come on, love,” one of the men cooed. “No need to get all worked up. We just want a bit of fun.”

The tallest man leaned in closer, bracing one hand against the wall by the woman’s head and trailing the other against her cheek. “It’s good luck. You look like a snowstorm blew right down and decided to put on its best dress.”

The woman reached to push away his hand, her fingers trembling.

The tall man grabbed her wrist.

Bile rose in Jaime’s throat and heat bubbled in his chest. He stepped into the mouth of the alley.

“There you are,” he snapped, mustering a loud, sharp voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

All eyes turned to him.

The woman’s were blown wide, spots of color high on her cheeks.

The men stared at him, confusion written on their faces.

When no one spoke, Jaime made a rough gesture. “Come on. We’re late.”

“I—I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I got turned around.”

One of the men had small, beetle-black eyes that were trained steadily on Jaime. He moved between Jaime and the woman, his expression shifting into something that had teeth.

“Now, what’s this? You wouldn’t want to ruin the celebrations, would you?”

“We’re not interested,” Jaime said firmly. “We’re leaving.”

“Hm.” The man’s eyes trailed down Jaime’s body as he took a step. “You’re clearly not from around here. And we both know you didn’t come to town with this pretty thing. But... we’d let you join.”

Jaime felt himself freeze, his heart rabbiting in his throat, but he swallowed and raised his chin.

“Dimitri!” he called, sure the man couldn’t actually hear him. “I found her.”

The tall man still had a hand closed around the woman’s wrist.

Jaime forced himself to walk closer and take her arm. He made his fingers gentle even as he scowled.

“We’re leaving.”

A redhaired man sidestepped to box Jaime in. His mouth spread with a mean smile, the black-eyed man at his side.

“So demanding. But I don’t think so. What do you think?” he tossed the question over his shoulder to the others.

One of them crowed and then they were all surging nearer. Jaime started to tug the woman behind him, his mind going blank. Without his magic, he didn’t stand a chance at stopping any of them. Maybe he could at least give her a chance to run.

The tall man reached for Jaime.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Dimitri’s voice cut through the alley.

He stood with his feet planted, his stance poised and his expression hard. He twirled a knife in one hand, held a length of pipe in the other.

The men seemed to hesitate.

Then one of them moved as if to speak. Dimitri pointed the knife at him.

“The only thing that should be coming out of any of your mouths,” he said, taking a deliberate step into the tight space, “is an apology.”

The beetle-eyed man scowled and straightened. “This is none of your business.”

Dimitri threw the knife.

It sailed within an inch of the man’s ear and lodged in the mortar behind him.

Another knife was in Dimitri’s hand in an instant, twirling with the same ease.

“I think you’ll find it is. And unless you’d like me to make it the magistrate’s business as well, you’ll make yourselves scarce.”

Dimitri shifted so the path out was clear and gestured with the pipe.

“Now.”

Time slowed for an agonizing moment. The tall man was close enough for his breath to brush hot against Jaime’s skin.

Then at last they stepped back.

Wordlessly, they pushed by Dimitri and disappeared into the night.

As soon as the assailants had gone the woman took a hasty step away from Jaime and Dimitri.

She gave them an uncertain look.

“Are you hurt?” Jaime asked her, dropping his arms into a non-threatening position at his sides.

“No.” She shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears and blinking quickly. “I’m fine. They just pushed me around a little.”

Dimitri radiated anger as slipped a knife back into his coat. “Bastards. We’ll make a report in the morning.”

The woman smoothed her dress with shaking hands. “Thank you.”

Now that the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off, Jaime found a tremor lingering in his own hands, too. He shoved them into his pockets.

“Of course,” Jaime said.

“Do you know anyone in the city?” Dimitri asked. “We’d be happy to escort you.”

“My sister’s family,” the woman said. “I know the way.”

It was a clear dismissal. But Jaime couldn’t help but probe once more.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. It’s not far.”

Jaime swallowed. “Take care, then.”

“You too.”

She slipped past Dimitri, then turned on her heel.

“Thank you, again.” Her eyes grew bright and she looked away. “I didn’t... didn’t think anyone would come.”

Then she hurried away and they were left alone.

Jaime sagged against the stone wall.

Dimitri was watching him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Jaime straightened quickly. “Yes. I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

After a moment, Dimitri nodded. He retrieved his other knife from the wall and wiped the dust from the blade before tucking it away. “We’re not far from the inn.”

“Good.”

Dimitri stayed close as they started on their way again. When they passed a small booth selling the stuffed buns, Dimitri paused and paid for two.

He passed one to Jaime.

Jaime looked at it for a second before taking it. “Thank you.”

The hot bread steamed and burned against Jaime’s fingertips. Black seeds had been delicately arranged into the shape of a snowflake on the top.

“They’re good luck,” said the cart man. “And tasty, too.”

Jaime took a careful bite.

It was rich and sweet and a little spicy, warming him as soon as he swallowed.

Dimitri took a large bite of his own.

“Thanks,” he told the man with a mouth half full.

By the time they’d finished the buns, they arrived at the door of an inn called the Thorny Rose.

Dimitri eased the door open and they stepped into an airy, open room that looked to be part kitchen, part tavern, and part fireplace lounge.

In the middle of it all, a squat woman was bustling between tables. Her skin was bluish-black and her hair was even darker, streaked with silver and braided with tiny beads.

When the door closed behind them, she raised her head and her face lit up. “Ey, Dimitri! I thought you not be coming this year.”

“Hello Nantale,” Dimitri said warmly. “It’s been a... strange season for us. But we’re glad to be here. Do you have any rooms?”

She flashed a white grin and hastened over to them. “Is your lucky day. Man rented a room, then tried to steal a crate of the good wine. He left a half hour ago. Is a small room, usually for storage, but you can have if you want it, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said and fished around in his pocket for something. “We would.”

“You pay when you leave,” the woman said, her accent bright and round, and waved one hand. “I know you’re good for it. Who’s this, then?”

Dimitri paused, then touched Jaime’s arm lightly. “This is Jaime. He’s... a new friend.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jaime. I’m Nantale.” The woman drew out a thick ring of keys and gestured for her to follow her past a set of stairs and down a hallway.

When they came to a scuffed door, Nanatle stopped and bent to the knob, shuffling through her keys. “There should be bath ready in here, too.” She raised her head and winked at Dimitri. I throw that in for free.”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“If you need anything,” she began.

“Don’t ask you, I know.” Dimitri smiled easily. “Good night.”

She gave a rumbling laugh and patted Jaime on the shoulder. “Exactly. Good night.”

Dimitri shrugged off his pack and let it fall to the ground with a thud. The room was dimly lit with a scattering of candles, the smell of beeswax and soap warm in the air.

It was small, with a tiny curtained window, a washbasin, and a lone chair. A stack of crates was pushed against one wall, shrinking the usable space further. But it was clean and dry, and a metal tub sat behind a screen in one corner.

He was ready to sleep.

Jaime hadn’t moved beside him.

Dimitri glanced sideways to find the mage fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, eyes on the bed.

Oh. Singular.

Tension strung Jaime’s shoulders tight.

Moments flashed in his mind. The defeated pleading when he’d tied Jaime’s arm to the infirmary bed. The frequency with which he flinched from touch. The careful way he skirted the cabin and pressed his back against the loft wall every night.

The slurry of anger and fear Dimitri had seen in the mage’s eyes when he came into the alley.

Dimitri cast one longing glance at the semi-soft looking bed and then snatched up his pack again and started unrolling his blanket near the door. “I’ll take the floor.”

Jaime turned to face him, his expression shifting between relief and apprehension. “I—No, I can sleep on the floor. You should—”

“I’ll sleep here,” Dimitri said, with a vague sense of the past circling around his head. “There are too many people. I’ll feel better if I can hear who’s coming.”

Jaime swallowed and opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. “Alright. Then you should take the first bath.”

Dimitri spread his bedroll and stood, his joints cracking. “I’ll agree to that, I suppose. We’ll need to rebandage your arm afterwards.”

“Okay.”

Dimitri retrieved a change of clothing from his pack and stripped behind the privacy of the screen. The water wasn’t hot, per se, but it was reasonably warm and lightly scented with something floral. He closed his eyes and let himself relax for a delicious moment.

The sound of the mage organizing things rustled from the other side of the screen.

Dimitri trailed one finger on the surface of the water.

“That was brave,” he said, quietly.

Jaime went silent.

After a moment, he asked, “what?”

“Going to help that woman. It was brave.”

The next pause stretched so long he thought Jaime might not respond. Then he spoke. “It was the right thing to do. And... thank you. For coming.”

Dimitri made a quiet noise of assent, then plunged his head under the water and scrubbed dust from his hair.

By the time he’d dried and dressed, fatigue weighed heavy on his limbs.

“The water’s starting to go cold,” Dimitri said. “But it’s tolerable. Unless you can...” He raised one eyebrow.

A pained look crossed Jaime’s face before he could school it back into neutrality. He pressed his lips together into a thin line and shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri frowned as he sank onto the bedroll. “I told you, it’s not your fault. I’ll... I’ll stop asking.”

Jaime turned away, arms clutched around a roll of clothing. “You don’t have to stop. I’m just... sorry I’m not—not good for much right now.”

He disappeared behind the screen.

Dimitri swallowed past an unpleasant sensation and busied himself with checking over the list of items they needed to track down. Ash had requested, in addition to his own supplies, a couple of books that he suspected were intended for Opal.

He smiled fondly. The little wolf would be beside herself when the mage was back, that much was certain.

Jaime emerged not long after, water still clinging to his face and hair. He sat on the edge of the bed, one sleeve rolled up.

“I can do it myself,” he ventured.

Dimitri rose. “I don’t mind.”

He retrieved the medical kit and dragged the rickety chair to the bedside.

Jaime let him take his arm gently.

The bath seemed to have brought on a mild resurgence of bleeding, but the cut looked clean and free from any pinkness or oozing.

“Does it hurt?” Dimitri asked.

“Not much.”

Instead of pouring the disinfectant, Dimitri dabbed some onto a cloth and carefully wiped the mage’s forearm. Again, Jaime held perfectly still throughout the process.

He tied the bandage and let go of Jaime’s arm.

“Alright?”

Jaime nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

Dimitri rose to stow the supplies. He blew out two of the candles and went to extinguish the rest.

Then Jaime spoke. “Dimitri?”

He turned back. Jaime still sat on the edge of the bed, his hands woven together and his face holding the hesitant determination Dimitri had come to recognize.

“Mm?”

“I think... I think you should try to shift.”

Dimitri froze with one hand stretched toward a candle.

“...what?”

Jaime sat up straighter. “You should try. Really.”

Defensiveness made him snap. “That’s not your concern.”

Instead of backing down, the mage looked at him earnestly. “We’re safe in here, and there’s no one else to see if it doesn’t work. But—I think it will work. I think you can do it.”

Dimitri looked back at Jaime. His eyes were hopeful.

Dimitri sighed. Stepped back from the candle.

“I... Okay. I’ll try.”

He moved to kneel between the bed and the stacked crates. Nerves buzzed in his stomach as he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

This was supposed to be easy, natural, like breathing. But he felt his hands shaking even as he clenched them on his knees. If it didn’t work now, even after everything...

He made himself take several slow, deliberate breaths.

Then he reached for his wolf.

The rush of fear hit him again, tightening his chest, and he fought the urge to draw back.

But his wolf drew closer this time. Solid and reassuring and familiar.

He inhaled again—then let go.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing on four paws.

He looked up.

Jaime was beaming at him, eyes softening in unfamiliar creases.

Dimitri pricked his ears. He could hear the people down the hall and the ones outside, smell the remnants of charred meat and tea from the kitchens and the warmed greenness of the salve he’d spread on Jaime’s skin. His heart slowed. He could feel the moon, no longer full but still round and welcoming, hanging high above them in the sky.

He shifted into his human form for an instant. Just to be sure he could.

Then dropped into his wolf again, relishing the way his paws struck silently against the wood floor. It felt like coming home.

Dimitri padded forward and nosed the mage’s hand.

Jaime looked at him for a breath, then laid his palm against the fur on Dimitri’s neck.

His smile shifted to something softer and he spoke quietly. “You did it.”

Chapter Text

Wind whipped around Opal’s face, steadily growing colder and pulling strands of her hair from its braid. She should’ve been shivering by now, but the anger burning beneath her skin drove away any hint of a chill.

She picked up another rock and threw it hard. It sailed over the trees and disappeared.

Her feet rested at the top of the overlook. She stared out to where the spires of Tirsk gleamed in the distance. 

Sunset-orange swallowed half the sky, the other half already in darkness. The full moon hadn’t risen yet, but it was coming.

And Jaime was probably back in the valley already. Off the mountain. On his way to the city. 

She snatched a larger rock and gripped it tight enough that her knuckles turned white.

When she threw it, the force made her stumble. Dirt shifted beneath her feet and she slipped closer to the edge. 

Jaime’s voice rang in her ears. “Be good while I’m gone. And careful. Please.”

She sat with a thud, her legs hanging over the side.

Her fingers dug into the packed earth beneath her.

She’d had to just watch him leave.

He’d asked her not to beg to come along, not to protest him going—and she knew why, knew his position was fragile and hers was far from certain, so she’d listened.

But that didn’t stop her from giving Dimitri a poisonous look (one she didn’t even think he’d noticed through whatever fog he was lost in) and hugging Jaime tighter than she ever had before he left the village.

It wasn’t fair.

He’d finally finished the wards, even though it took too much of his strength, and he’d just barely gotten a moment to rest. He’d sat by her, actually eaten a full plate of food, started to read. Maybe they would’ve even been able to have some time together, stealing moments to talk about magic.

And then Dimitri had just—whisked him away, without any thought. And he was gone.

He was gone, with nothing more than a “we’ll be back in a week or so” and a gentle hand on her shoulder. Who knew what could happen in a week? If something went wrong, and he didn’t come back, she’d—

She dropped her face into her hands.

She didn’t want to lose someone else.

Especially now that she had someone who could help, who could answer her questions and know what it was like to have something bigger than herself just behind her ribs, waiting beneath her skin.

Even in the camp, even trapped, she’d known Jaime wasn’t like the rest of the hunters. She’d seen how he was sad, alone, how he flinched whenever another hunter accompanied him to the cages. How he didn’t want to hurt them, didn’t ever go out of his way to be cruel to the wolves like the others did. How he whispered apologies in the darkness.

And she knew what the collar meant, too—then and now. She may not be able to speak anymore, couldn’t read or write very well, but she wasn’t stupid. She saw and heard and noticed things. She understood.

She hadn’t thought he’d be able to free them. Even if he wanted to.

But she’d imagined it, still. The fantasy of someone who was about to die. She’d never believed it would be real, but she’d thought about it.

What it would be like to have him know she had magic and accept and understand it. Her mother had taken it in stride, but she hadn’t known any more about magic than Opal did—which was mostly stories about how mages would cage and skin wolves and enchant their pelts with dark power if given the chance. 

Opal hadn't even known what she had was magic. Two years after that became painfully clear, she was no closer to knowing what to do with it.  

And Jaime had been the first mage she ever saw up close. 

So she imagined him teaching her how to use her power, smiling when she got something right.

He'd never smiled in the hunters' camp. 

But then he had freed them. Healed her, healed Max. 

(And been collared for it. The despair on his face when Khalida stepped back from him still lingered in the back of her nightmares.)

Now she knew she'd been right. He was kind, and he did know how to use magic for good things. And even though it had been a short time, she felt like he was part of her family already and she wanted him to be okay.

She wished—of course she wished—that they’d met a different way, or that Jaime would’ve been able to free them before her mother died.

But. She was here. Jaime was here. And if the others would just give them a chance...

Her eyes smarted with tears and she rubbed them roughly.

Magic bubbled up in her chest like soup about to boil over. Her fingertips began to tingle.

She made herself breathe and tamp the magic back down. Her hands trembled when she laid them on the earth.

“Opal?”

Opal startled and turned.

Khalida stood a few paces away, her goldenrod coat at odds with the sky behind her. She was watching Opal with an intent look.

Opal’s heart raced.

Her fingers hadn’t glowed, had they? She hadn’t let anything slip away from her control?

If Khalida had seen—

But the alpha just smiled. “Mind if I sit?”

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Opal nodded.

Khalida didn’t tell her to get away from the edge or scold her for going off without telling anyone. She just sank down beside her.

“I think winter may be just about here at last,” Khalida said, leaning back on her hands. “It’s been a strange autumn, don’t you think?”

Opal lifted her chin into the wind. It smelled damp and cold.

“You’ve been a big help with getting everything ready.” Khalida gave her a wry look. “I know Nadia and Alexei have appreciated the lighter workload.”

Opal’s fingers found a jagged bit of stone and she rubbed it between her hands, trying to guess where the conversation was going.

The low hum of resentment and frustration buzzed in her chest.

She reminded herself that Khalida was a kind leader. Much, much kinder than any other she’d ever known. (And it wasn’t like Opal didn’t understand why they were wary about magic. Even about Jaime. But. That couldn’t be all that magic was good for.)

She tossed the rock, waiting to see if Khalida would object.

But Khalida let out a soft chuckle. “Good arm.”

The alpha picked up a stone and threw it, sending it arcing into the shadows between trees.

For some reason, this made even more anger flare inside Opal. She bit down on her cheek.

After a moment Khalida turned to her.

“Will you come on the hunt with us tonight?” Khalida lifted both eyebrows. “We’d love to have you.”

Opal nodded. She wanted to get out and run.

Khalida stood and held a hand out to Opal. When Opal took it, she tugged her to her feet.

“Ready to chase a squirrel or two?”

Opal nodded again. 

She kicked a final rock over the edge, then followed Khalida down.

The hunt passed in a blur of paws and tree trunks and cold air. The full moon made every breath feel fuller, every step faster, every corner of the forest more alive.

Opal caught one fat squirrel (and narrowly avoided being sprayed by a skunk she startled in its little den). She ran next to Nadia, mostly.

The part of her she tried not to listen to whispered that they could be linked by a pack bond, feel the surge of strength and rush of joy together. But Nadia gave her a lolling grin as they scaled a boulder to howl as one—and that was good, too.

As she climbed down the boulder, she hopped the last foot to the ground. Her paw hit something sharp and slid, making her yelp.

Nadia loped back to check on her, brushing her shoulder against Opal’s.

Opal gave her a reassuring nudge and they resumed their path side-by-side. 

They caught up with the rest of the pack, making their way back to the village as the moon started to dip down from its high point.

Once they’d deposited their prey to be cleaned and prepared, the wolves started to trickle off to bed.

Opal started to follow after Nadia, but a hand on her flank stopped her.

Khalida, Lada, and Mirza stood clustered together. Khalida’s fingers rested on Opal’s side.

“We’d like to talk to you for a moment,” Khalida said.

Opal froze in place. She turned slowly and sat, tucking her tail over her paws.

“You’re not in trouble,” Mirza said. 

That did little to slow the rushing of her pulse. She looked up at them doubtfully.

Khalida sank to sit cross-legged, putting herself at Opal’s eye level. Lada and Mirza copied her, Lada reaching to take Khalida’s hand into her lap.

Opal tilted her head.

“Opal,” Khalida said, giving her a look that was somehow both warm and solemn, “first, I truly regret the circumstances that led to you having to come to our pack, and all the things you’ve suffered. We still mourn your mother with you.”

An ache rose in Opal’s chest.

She bowed her head.

Khalida continued. “But, despite how it happened, we’re so glad to have you here.”

“We all adore you,” Lada added.

Opal didn’t think that was quite true. But these three women, she knew, did care about her. 

Khalida sat up straighter, the light of the full moon spilling over her. “I would like to formally invite you to join Hearthstone Pack. Since Mirza has been acting as something of a guardian, I asked her to be here with us.”

Mirza’s deep blue eyes shone.

“We already consider you one of us,” Khalida said. “Will you take the pack bond and join us?”

Something itched and squirmed inside her. She looked between them.

She longed to say yes. She felt closed off, alone in her own head, trapped within herself—something that had grown worse since losing her voice and worse again since losing her mother. She yearned to feel connected to someone again, to be able to reach out and find the reassuring presence of a pack when she was unsure or afraid.

But she couldn’t.

They’d realize what she really was and they’d make her leave, or worse.

If she was just—normal. If she was normal, she could let herself melt into the easy rhythm they seemed to have carved out here in the mountains.

But she was a sour note. Not written into the melody.

She shifted into her human form and found her hands shaking when she reached for her notebook.

Slowly, she wrote.

Not ready.

When she turned the page toward them, she heard Khalida let out a soft sigh.

Opal wrote again, the letters blurring through tears.

I’m sorry.

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to be sorry.” Mirza reached out and grasped her arm. “It’s your choice. No one but you can decide when you’re ready.”

Dragging a hand over her eyes, Opal looked away. Shame and regret and want flooded her with a heavy, nauseating heat.

She shook her head.

Mirza pulled Opal closer and hugged her, tucking her chin over Opal’s head. (It was so much like the way her mother used to hug her.)

Opal felt two more hands rest on her back.

She sniffled into Mirza’s shoulder until she felt she could lift her face without sobbing.

When she did, Khalida ducked her head to meet Opal’s eyes.

“Mirza’s right. It’s your choice. I’m not upset with you, Opal. I just want you to feel you belong here.” She gave an encouraging smile, but her eyes looked mournful. “Do you think you might want to someday?”

Opal put the pencil to paper again, her side still pressed against Mirza.

I hope.

She woke early the next morning, curled into a ball so tight that her muscles creaked when she unwound herself.

Hazy remnants of dreams swam through her head as she blinked herself awake.

She’d dreamt of Jaime in a dark forest. Then she’d dreamt of herself, standing on top of the overlook again, light streaming from her fingertips. And then she’d been in the stream, pouncing plump fish and tossing them to where Nadia and Alexei waited on the shore.

The last one, at least, sounded nice.

When she reached for her canteen, she winced at a pain in her hand.

Dim light filtered in through the curtains. Opal squinted.

A cut ran across one side of her palm, shallow but angry red.

Opal shifted to sit against the wall and laid her hand in her lap, staring at the cut.

Jaime had said that he just let magic help the body go back to how it was supposed to be, or something like that.

Maybe she could do it, too.

(Maybe, if she learned enough, she hide her magic even through the bond. Or maybe, if she learned enough, and it was good enough, she wouldn’t have to.)

The power felt scattered this morning, bouncing around inside her. She so rarely tried to do anything other than keep it in. Pulling on it felt wrong, like trying to make herself touch a fire.

Opal closed her eyes and breathed.

The magic settled a little. She managed to draw out a thread of it, shaky but tangible.

She focused on the cut, picturing the skin smooth and healed.

A gentle tingle swirled the edges of her hand.

She opened her eyes.

It looked the same.

She let out a silent puff of air and tried again, this time with her eyes open.

The tingling sensation spread to the center of her palm.

But nothing changed.

Opal frowned and tried pushing.

When the cut remained the same, frustration snapped taut. A flare of light burst in her fingertips.

She gasped and shoved her hands under her legs.

Stupid. That was stupid.

She waited until the count of thirty, but no one stirred in the rooms below.

Stupid. 

Antsy energy compelled her to change and creep from the house to the infirmary.

Ash liked to sleep early, she’d deduced, but rose before most others in the camp.

He was reading and sipping a cup of tea when she poked her head in the door.

A smile lit his face. “Opal, good morning. Come in.”

She slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind herself.

“I don’t have any patients right now,” he said, “so there’s no one to wake. You’re up early.”

Opal pulled out her notebook and wrote. Help you?

Ash took another drink of his tea. “Certainly. Alexei brought me the last of the herbs yesterday, and there are some that need to be crushed and put in oil. Would you like to do that?”

Opal nodded.

“Why don’t you get yourself some tea, and we’ll get started in a moment?”

Reluctantly, Opal went to Ash’s little table and poured a cup of hot, pinkish liquid that smelled floral and sweet.

She didn’t want to sit still. She wanted to do something.

But she sank into the chair beside him and clutched the tea between her palms. The warm clay stung where it pressed into the cut.

Ash sipped and turned his page.

(What would he say if he knew? He had a magic book. That must mean something.)

The steam tickled her nose.

She took a a dutiful gulp.

When Ash finished and rose, she quickly set the tea aside and followed him.

He turned to look at her, then continued pulling supplies down. The mortar and pestle were clean, scrubbed by Nadia with salt until the green stains faded.

“Alright. Let’s start with this. Try to get it as fine as you can, then use this paper to get it into the jars and we’ll top them off with oil.” Ash stepped out of the way and let her take over.

She ground herbs with enough fervor that her hand started to cramp and her shoulder ached. The repetitive nature of the task quieted the whirlwind of her thoughts. 

When all the jars were full, she tapped Ash’s shoulder and waited while he fetched oil.

They topped off the herbs, making the sharp, earthy scent of them fade.

Opal reached for the oil stopper.

“Hm. Shall we see to that cut?” Ash asked.

She paused with her hand outstretched.

He was watching her with an expectant look, so she nodded.

After sealing the oil, she sat on the edge of one of the beds and let him take her hand.

“Did you get this on the hunt?” he asked, leaning down to peer at her palm.

Opal nodded. She mimed slipping with her free arm.

“It isn’t so bad, but it looks like there are a few fragments stuck inside. I’ll have to clear them out before we can clean and wrap it.” Ash set her hand in her lap and rose. “Otherwise we’ll just trap the dirt inside and it won't heal properly."

She braced herself. 

As careful as he was, it still hurt when he poked at the cut with tweezers and removed a few tiny pieces of bark and dirt from the skin.

She swallowed hard, watching as he first rinsed it, then dabbed disinfectant over it and spread a thin layer of salve across her palm.

Then he wrapped a fresh white bandage twice and tied it with a practiced knot.

“There we are,” he said. “How does that feel?”

She flexed her fingers, then nodded. She made the sign for thank you.

“Of course.” Ash set the supplies aside but didn’t move to stand. Instead, he looked at her, his head tilting slightly to one side. “How are you, my dear?”

Opal’s shoulders hunched in under his gaze.

But Ash was nothing if not patient. He waited.

After a moment, she pulled out her notebook and looked at the page.

Finally, she wrote.

Mad.

She hesitated, pencil hovering, then beneath it she wrote: Sad.

Ash looked at the words.

He let out a breath and touched her knee. “Thank you for telling me.”

Opal stared at her shoes.

“Do you know why you might be feeling this way?” Ash asked. “And, I may add, I believe it’s perfectly reasonable that you are.”

She looked at him for a few heartbeats. Opal thought that, yes. It probably was reasonable. But she didn't think all the reasons he had in mind were the same as hers. 

She shrugged.

Ash made a soft sound. “Well. I know it takes you a good deal of time and effort, but if there’s anything you want to write down, I will read it.”

She made the sign for thank you again, but closed the notebook and set it aside. There was too much to condense onto one small piece of paper, even if she had known how to write the words she needed.

“The offer still stands if you change your mind.” Ash stood. “But, for now, what do you think about helping me see if my throat tonics are up to scratch for the winter?”

Opal gave him a small smile and nodded.

When she left the infirmary, her mouth still tasted of honey. 

That night, Opal paused at the base of the ladder.

The loft loomed dark and empty above her.

She didn’t want to sleep alone.

Her steps felt turtle-slow as she made her way toward Nadia and Alexei’s room, dropping into her wolf halfway there and letting her paws pad silently on the wood.

Opal stopped in the doorway.

They were already in their beds, tucked tight beneath well-mended covers.

She swallowed and turned to go.

“Opal?” Alexei whispered. “Is that you?”

Nadia lifted her head. “Hm?”

Opal paused, feeling caught.

Alexei slid out of bed, coming to kneel beside her. “Are you ok?”

She pinned her ears and started to take a step back, but he reached out to stop her. His eyes were dark like Dimitri’s, and always seemed thoughtful.

“Did you want to sleep in here?” he asked.

Opal wavered, but dipped her head.

Alexei touched her shoulder. “Okay. Come on.”

Nadia was rubbing her eyes when they reached the edge of Alexei’s bed. “Wassit?”

“Opal’s sleeping with us,” Alexei said simply. He climbed back into bed and patted the covers beside him.

“Oh.” Nadia gave a sleepy nod. “Mm, okay.”

Opal looked to Alexei one more time, and when he gave the blankets a more insistent pat, she hopped up.

Nadia stumbled over, shifting into her wolf as soon as she’d wrangled herself on the bed. Her white chest gleamed against her dark fur and she curled up next to Alexei’s feet.

He smiled and laid back down, pulling his covers to his nose before wriggling into a comfortable position.

Nadia gave him a reproachful rumble as she was jostled. She settled back into her spot.

Opal looked between the two of them, then curled next to Nadia and rested her chin on Alexei’s leg.

She held her breath, waiting for any sign of discontentment from either of them.

But Nadia immediately started to snore again—and after a pause, Alexei murmured, “night, Nadia, night Opal.”

Opal raised and lowered her head in acknowledgement.

Then she closed her eyes and let herself drift, warmth pressing into her on both sides.

If only, she thought as she fell into sleep, it could always be this easy.

Chapter Text

Despite the early hour, the chatter of guests and the clanking of dishes filled the hall.

Dimitri led them to the last empty table, a small, rickety thing in a corner near the hearth. Last night’s chill still lingered in his bones. He sank into the chair that faced the exit, gratefully soaking in the warmth that radiated from the crackling fire.

If they’d been at home, he might have even shifted into his wolf and curled up on one of the hot flagstones.

When they returned to Hearthstone, he decided he’d do just that. After endless weeks, he would finally be able to shift at will. To go running with the pack. And, maybe, let himself connect to the pack bond again.

It was a freeing thought.

“Thank you,” he said to Jaime as the mage sat.

Jaime’s head tilted to one side. “For what?”

“For encouraging me to try. I feel... better.”

Jaime gave him a shy smile. “Good.”

As Jaime glanced around the busy room, Dimitri’s gaze caught once more on the fresh bruise on his cheekbone. It had already darkened to a black-blue, the thin cut in the middle still swollen.

Nantale stopped at the far side of the table, her dark dress dusted with flour. “Good morning, you two. What do you want to eat?”

Dimitri leaned back in his chair. “What do you have?”

“Porridge, nut cakes, egg buns.” Nantale listed the options off on one hand. “Or last night’s stew.”

Dimitri made an appreciative sound. “I can never pass up your nut cakes.”

“Good choice.” Nantale turned to Jaime. “And you—zash, boy, what happen to your face?”

Jaime tensed. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “I fell out of bed.”

She reached for Jaime’s chin.

When he winced at the movement, she withdrew her hand, tsking under her breath. “Looks bad. I think maybe I have ice left from fruit delivery.”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Jaime said, moving to the far side of his seat. “But thank you.”

Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but Nantale shook her head.

“I’ll look. If I have some, you use it. What do you want to eat?”

Jaime looked at Dimitri, his eyes holding something like panic.

Dimitri shrugged. “Get what you want. We have the coin.”

After a long moment, Jaime addressed the ground somewhere near Nantale’s feet.

“I would like to try an egg bun,” he said. “Please.”

Nantale nodded. “Good. I’ll be back. Maybe with ice.”

She took a few steps, then turned. “Dimitri, you come make yourself useful, yeah? I need to move flour.”

Dimitri stood. When Jaime began to rise, Nantale waved him down.

“You stay by the fire.”

Reluctantly, Jaime lowered himself back to the chair.

As Dimitri followed Nantale back to the kitchen, several patrons stopped her to ask questions or request more food. Nantale beckoned over a pair of teens who held stacks of dirty dishes and gave them instructions in her punctuated native tongue.

They set the dishes on a newly emptied table and scurried to comply.

“My grandchildren,” Nantale said. She tutted, but her eyes were fond. “Still learning.”

Dimitri started toward a stack of flour bags, but Nantale gestured toward a far corner instead. Once they were cloistered between kitchen shelves, she turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Dimitri.” Her expression was serious.

Puzzled, Dimitri hesitated. “...Yes?”

“You know why I left Basero?”

Dimitri slowly shook his head.

“My husband. He was not a good man. One night, he almost killed me.” Her face didn’t waver. “I took my son and left next morning. We walked until we found a place. Then another place. Finally we came here.”

The scars on Nantale’s forearms, ones he’d assumed were from her time in the kitchen, took on new meaning.

Dimitri swallowed. “I see. I’m sorry.”

But Nantale fixed him with an even more piercing look. “I like you, Dimitri. I like your village friends, too. But there are things I don’t let under my roof. So don’t lie to me.”

She jerked her head toward the hall. “You being rough with that boy?”

Surprise sent him back a step. “I—What?”

“You heard me.”

“No.” Dimitri shook his head, his pulse quickening. “No. Of course not.”

A brush of guilt ghosted over him as he recalled teeth around the mage’s wrist, brusque touches, a shove against the wall. But—he wouldn’t do that now.

(And, if he was being honest with himself, he no longer felt sure that he’d been justified in doing it then, either.)

“He’s scared,” Nantale pressed. “And I don’t like that bruise.”

“I’m not being rough with Jaime,” Dimtri insisted. “He really did fall out of bed this morning. I heard it.”

This made Nantale raise an eyebrow.

Dimitri’s hands curled into fists at his sides as hot discomfort stabbed at his chest. “I think... I think someone else was.” He looked away, his voice growing quieter. “Before.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. He raised his head again.

“I’m not hurting him,” Dimitri said, meeting her eyes. “I promise.”

Another silent beat passed. Then Nantale gave one decisive nod.

“I believe you.” Her shoulders loosened and she reached to squeeze his arm. “I had to ask.”

Dimitri placed a hand over hers. His heart still beat too loud in his ears.

“You’re a good boy.” She shifted her grip to steer him clear of the shelves and toward the flour pile. “I’m glad he has you now. You’re here, so move the flour, yeah? My back is too old.”

He followed her to the bags, hefting them from their heap to rest side-by-side on the shelves she indicated. By the time he finished, his muscles moved with an absent ache and his whole front was sprinkled with white, but he felt less like he was going to burst out of his skin.

He returned in time to find Nantale arranging a tray of food on their table, nut cakes and egg buns and a bowl of sliced plums and two mugs of steaming cider.

Jaime held an ice-filled rag to his cheek. When Dimitri approached, Jaime looked him up and down, his blank look shifting into a small, bemused smile.

“The flour got the best of me,” Dimitri said, sinking back into his chair. “Thanks, Nantale.”

“Eat up. You’re always so busy when you come.” Nantale thumped Dimitri’s shoulder before she stepped away. “Clean up before you leave, yeah? It’s the snow festival, but you don’t need to be looking like that.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes and took a large bite of a cake.

“Mmm.” He savored the contrast of the crisp exterior and pillowy-soft spiced bread inside, studded with dates and roasted nuts. The cider was similarly spiced, pleasantly warm as he swallowed it.

He reached for another cake to find Jaime sitting motionless.

Dimitri frowned.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

When Jaime didn’t respond right away, Dimitri gestured to the food. “If the buns don’t look good, we can share the cakes.”

Jaime set the rag down on the edge of the table. His gaze remained fixed on his hands and his neutral expression had returned, but now Dimitri could detect the nerves hovering beneath it.

Before, he would have barked at the mage to spit it out. Now he decided to wait.

Jaime took a measured breath and released it. Finally, he spoke.

“I haven’t done anything to earn it,” he said tightly, his voice just audible above the noise of the room. “And I can’t pay you back. I’m sorry. I can’t even do m—anything useful.”

The cake dropped from Dimitri’s fingers.

He stared at Jaime.

All he managed to say, in a dumbfounded rush, was, “But you ate yesterday.”

Jaime’s shoulders formed an even tenser line. He didn’t raise his head. “I... I helped with the fire the night before. And that was food from the village. You didn’t have to buy it new.”

“This is coin from the village,” Dimitri said, still nonplussed. “It’s ours, we’re here getting things for everyone. But—that’s not what’s important. You don’t—Jaime. Look at me.”

Jaime lifted his eyes. He looked... Resigned.

“Food isn’t something you earn. You don’t have to earn it.” A realization hit him. “Wait, have you been thinking that this whole time?”

Jaime nodded once, confusion seeping onto his face.

Dimitri was equally baffled. “Why?”

“...Why not?”

They looked at each other.

“That’s wrong,” Dimitri said finally. “I don’t know where you heard that about us, but we’re not like that.” His voice had risen a note too loud. He forced it back down, leaning closer. “It’s not like we stop feeding the elders or the sick when they can’t work. We don’t even send the pups to bed without dinner as a punishment. Food is just something you get. Everyone.”

“But I should earn it,” Jaime said, suddenly heated. “I’m not part of your pack. I hurt you. I’m—”

“It’s not about you,” Dimitri snapped. “It’s about what’s right.”

Jaime flinched and looked down. 

“I’m sorry,” the mage said. “I misunderstood the situation.”

It felt as though they’d stumbled backwards.

In the silence, a blanket of something like grief settled heavy on Dimitri’s shoulders.

Had Jaime grown into these beliefs about wolves on his own? Or had someone planted them for him, sowed the seeds that ultimately led him to trade lives for money?

How many children in this very city heard stories from their parents at night, painting wolves as something savage, inhuman, to be looked down on and hunted and feared?

How many of them would think differently if given the chance to meet a wolf and decide for themselves?

Dimitri ran a hand through his hair.

“Just... Look, I’m glad you told me. But this is the way it is, and that isn’t going to change. Okay?” Dimitri selected a cake, a bun, and a few plum slices, placing them on Jaime’s plate. “Eat what you like.”

A muscle worked in Jaime’s jaw as he nodded. “Thank you.”

Dimitri waited until Jaime picked up one of the egg buns and took a deliberate bite, then he started to eat again. The plums were sweet and juicy with a hint of mouth-watering tartness, and the egg buns were as creamy and satisfying as he remembered.

Jaime finished everything on his plate.

He cleared his throat quietly.

“I—” He rearranged his napkin twice. “There’s something else. That I think... maybe I misunderstood.”

“Tell me,” Dimitri said.

Jaime exhaled. 

“When I do, you know.” He made a loose gesture in the air. “That. The more I do, or the more complex it is, the more energy it uses.”

This seemed, at face value, a given. Dimitri waited for the rest.

Jaime spoke haltingly, holding Dimitri’s gaze even as he held himself entirely still. “When I push harder, or do a lot at once, I need to eat more. More than I have been. It would help.”

Dimitri let this sink in.

The implications were not pleasant. When Dimitri had caught the mage on the bridge, he’d been lighter than Dimitri expected. And his magic—

His wolf whined in the back of his mind.

“Have we been... starving you?”

Jaime sat up in alarm. “What? No. No. I’ve been grateful—”

“But you’ve been hungry.”

Jaime gave a reticent nod.

Dimitri pressed his lips together, swallowing the taste of bile. “You never asked for more.”

Jaime shrugged, picking at the edge of his sleeve. “I didn’t think I could.”

Dimitri thought back to a month’s worth of meals, in the village and in the forest, and how the mage had always eaten precisely what he was given, slow and quiet, growing uncomfortable if the food was shared in the center. Dimitri had brushed it off as stubbornness, pride, perhaps disdain for the wolves’ customs.

But it had been... this. Some sort of inscrutable calculation that determined whether he had achieved the right to eat what was offered in the first place.

All at once, Dimitri’s head ached.

“Alright then.” Dimitri tapped the table. “One, you don’t have to earn food. Two, you should eat as much as you need, and you always can ask for more.”

Jaime’s face still held skepticism, but he picked up a single bun and set it on his plate. He made no move to eat it yet, watching Dimitri as if waiting to see if he’d change his mind.

“Jaime.” Dimitri let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jaime went still, his eyes wide.

“You made assumptions, but so did I.” Dimitri caught Jaime’s gaze. “I’m sorry you went hungry on my watch. It won’t happen again.”

Jaime’s reply was a hoarse whisper. “I... Okay.” He looked down. “Okay. Thank you.”

Dimitri nodded. “Good. Now. Eat what you want, and I’ll figure out where we need to go.”

They passed yet another a carr selling paper snowflakes on route to their second destination: a spice shop.

Jaime said, “Nantale told me the festival is to ask the winter goddess for a good snow season."

Their first stop had been the magistrate’s office, where they stood in a slow-moving queue until Dimitri could make a report about the previous night. The clerk had been a stooped, grey-haired woman who took down each person’s words with meticulous care—and absolutely no sense of urgency.

Somewhere during the waiting, the tension that had formed inside Jaime during breakfast had finally eased. He still didn’t understand, exactly, why the pack (or, at least, Dimitri) didn’t expect him to earn his meals, or why something had seemingly shifted in how Dimitri behaved toward him. But he did trust that Dimitri wasn’t one to make idle promises.

So he’d asked a question about their list of supplies and Dimitri had pulled it out and turned toward him, and they’d quietly discussed plans for the day until it was their turn.

Now, in the crisp, clear morning, Jaime felt a wave of happiness, tentative and bright and almost painful its foreignness. It was like standing on the log over the river again, and he had to fight the urge to withdraw and dart back to more familiar ground.

He was actually full from breakfast, the scarf and coat were clean and warm and dry, and his injuries didn’t bother him if he held himself in the right position. He thought that, if he asked, Dimitri would choose something small to bring to Opal to make her smile.

The day held the promise of seeing a myriad of new things, and he and Dimitri were talking with something that Jaime might call friendliness.

It was good. It was unexpected, but it was good. 

He let the feeling grow and settle in his chest as he held open the door.

For now, he could almost forget about everything else.

Dimitri looked curious. “Oh?”

“Mhm. They have the festival every year. She said the snow is important to the farmers and the city, so they make offerings to the goddess and try to call on her good favor. Her name was... Idana?”

Dimitri nodded thoughtfully. “That explains the snowflakes. It’s Idezna, I think, but I’m not sure. Not many in the pack care much for gods and goddesses.”

“No?”

“There’s Garou, the Wolf Patron.” Dimitri shrugged. “But besides him, we have our ancestors.”

Following Dimitri through the doorway, Jaime considered this. Eskender’s crew had favored Thost, god of wealth, and Ruzya, goddess of the hunt. Beyond this, he knew little of Kudrovan gods. Just that there were many.

Jaime hadn’t bothered to address gods from anywhere in years. He didn’t plan to start now.

The air inside the shop swam with so many smells that it was impossible to pinpoint a single one. Every wall was lined with shelves, each shelf crowded with labeled glass jars. The lanky boy behind the counter was reading, and didn’t look at all pleased to be interrupted.

They bought a dozen kinds of dried spices and herbs, carefully measured into brown paper packets that were then pasted shut. Some for Petyr, Dimitri told him, and some for Ash. Jaime held the packet of multicolored peppercorns and sniffed, then sneezed. The shop boy looked over his book with a wholly unimpressed air.

“Happy festival,” the boy drawled.

They ducked back out into the cold air.

Once they’d stowed the spices, they made their way to a cramped shop that sold sewing supplies. Squeezing between baskets of yarn and heaps of fabric, Dimitri managed to ask the clerks for what they needed.

Back outside, Dimitri pricked his finger on the needles as he slipped them into his pack. He muttered a curse, then tucked them beside two spools of sturdy thread and a rattling jar of buttons.

“I much prefer your way of mending,” Dimitri commented, wiping away a droplet of blood. “Less... pointy.”

“I can sew the usual way, too,” Jamie said without thinking.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

Jaime coughed and ducked his head. “Well. I can mend. I’ve never tried to make much of anything.”

“Hm.” Dimitri shouldered his pack and started walking. “You make maps, you sew. Any other hidden talents?”

They turned a corner onto a noisy street, heading toward an open-air market several blocks down.

When Jaime glanced over, he saw Dimitri looking at him expectantly.

“Oh.” His cheeks heated. “Sorry. I thought you were joking.”

Dimitri gave him a look that hovered between pointed and amused. “I told you, when I say something, I mean it.”

Jaime ducked the outstretched arm of a passerby and tried to think of an answer.

“I can cook some things,” Jaime ventured. “And I’m good at finding useful plants. I know how to navigate by the stars.” He thought, then decided to add, “I used to be able to do a cartwheel, but I haven’t tried that in a while. I would probably break something now.”

Dimitri laughed.

A slow, satisfied warmth spread through Jaime.

“I think you should give it a try,” Dimitri said. “After your arm heals.”

They came to the edge of the market and paused. The stalls butted up against each other, wares spilling out into the aisle in baskets and barrels. Merchants shouted to be heard over the crowds, and snowflakes of some sort adorned almost every tent.

It was lively. And interesting. And, he had to admit, it was overwhelming, too.

Dimitri seemed to feel the same way. He regarded the crush, let out a sigh, and straightened his shoulders. “Let’s... stay together?”

Jaime nodded fervently.

His arm pressed against Dimitri’s as they wove through shoppers to search for the right goods.

“What about you?” Jaime summoned his daring. “You carve, you fish, you sharpen knives, you throw knives. Any other hidden talents?”

Dimitri shrugged. “A few.”

Jaime looked at him, waiting.

“I can make soap. I can also navigate by the stars. I’m good at tracking.” Dimitri ran his fingers through a barrel of nuts, paused, then said, “I can sing. I used to, anyway.”

“You do?” Jaime tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, deep and smooth. Kress had been a good singer, despite everything else. So had Emelina and Lily.

“Mirza taught me to sing, when we were on our own.” Dimitri’s voice had grown quieter, and Jaime had to lean a step closer to hear him. “I haven’t done it since the twins were young.”

“Well,” Jaime said, busying himself with the nearest rack of dried fish. “I think you should give it a try sometime. At the very least, you’re not likely to break anything.”

“Very funny.” Dimitri moved to a stall that sold the type of leather Khali had asked for, but Jaime caught a smile as he turned away.

Despite Dimitri’s light packing, their bags grew heavy as the day went on. Jaime wished he’d been able to cast the weightlessness charms. Twice, when they had a moment away from prying ears, he opened his mouth to ask Dimitri if he could check his magical reserves.

Both times, he closed his mouth without speaking.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know yet.

As the sun continued its westward descent, they entered a new part of town where the market stalls gave way to a wide fountain.

At the far side of it, a crowd gathered around a temporary wooden platform.

The air around the platform shimmered.

Jaime stopped mid-step, stumbling as he put his foot down.

A brightly-dressed trio stood above the crowd, a man and a woman and a person with a veiled face. They each held one arm aloft and traced a rune in the air. Magic flowed between them, an almost yellow hue that coalesced into a unified glow.

Their mouths moved with an incantation Jaime couldn’t hear.

A large orb of water from the fountain, rippling and splitting into droplets that turned to mist and formed a cloud above the square.

The mages moved as one. The clouds darkened and large flakes of white began to drift down, growing thicker until it turned the tops of hats and shoulders snowy.

The crowd cheered.

Children turned their heads up to catch the flakes on their tongues, and a scruffy dog started to yip and roll on the cobblestones.

The mages bowed.

Jaime’s head started to spin and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He inhaled in a rush.

He came back to himself to find a hollow ache in his stomach and the weight of Dimitri’s eyes on his face.

Dimitri spoke first. 

“Do you know that spell?”

Jaime shook his head, blinking quickly to dispel a sudden heat behind his eyes. “No. I haven’t ever seen it before.”

Dimitri stretched out his hand. A flake landed and melted in the center of his palm.

“I didn’t know mages could do something like that,” Dimitri murmured. “Could you?”

Jaime looked up at the cloud, snow falling onto his lashes.

The three of them had seemed to join their magic to make the storm. But some of the spells in Eskender’s book had called for more than one mage. Jaime had been able to manage most of them.

None of them had been like this one, though, pretty and harmless.

He found his throat unexpectedly tight when he answered. “I think I could.”

They stood beneath the snow until Dimitri’s dark hair was flecked with white.

Dimitri moved closer, lowering his voice even further. His attention was fixed on the mages, who had each formed a little white horse from the snow and were making them gallop between the legs of the crowd. “Do you think they could help you? Replenish your magic, or something?”

Jaime shivered, looking away from the platform.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

“We could wait until their performance ends,” Dimitri said. “Make sure no one else overhears. They seem close to each other, and skilled enough.”

When Jaime hesitated, Dimitri took a step toward the center of the storm. Jaime touched his arm.

“Dimitri.”

The man stopped and turned back.

“Thank you,” Jaime said, softly. “But we shouldn’t. I... I’ve done terrible things with my magic. They wouldn’t want to help me.”

Dimitri was quiet for a moment, then he set a hand on Jaime’s shoulder.

“Alright. We only have a couple more stops. Let’s go.”

Dimitri’s mouth watered as they walked away from the food stall, stuffed flatbreads in hand. They only needed to find the book Ash had requested before nightfall, but the shop Dimitri usually visited had been closed.

He’d almost prompted the mage to choose where they ate for dinner, but he’d decided that choosing his own dish would likely be challenging enough.

(He’d been right.)

Dimitri sighed in contentment as he took the first bite. The flatbread was piping hot and soft, the meat and vegetables inside coated with a salty honey glaze.

One of his favorite parts of coming to the city was the food.

They sat on a bench against a tall stone building.

Jaime took a bite.

Dimitri looked over in time to see him grimace.

“You don’t like it?” Dimitri asked.

“It’s just—” Jaime swallowed and coughed. “Um. Spicy.”

Dimitri nodded slowly. “The name said ‘spicy.’”

“Oh.” Jaime looked sheepish. “I just pointed to the first one on the list.”

Dimitri snorted. “I don’t think that’s the best method.”

Jaime gave a rueful smile. “Clearly not.”

Dimitri held out his flatbread. “Try this. If you like it, we can trade.”

“But that’s yours.”

“Just try it.”

Carefully, Jaime leaned down to take a bite. The difference in his opinion was plain despite a clear effort not to react.

Dimitri hid a smirk.

“Better?”

“I can eat the spicy one.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stubborn. I like both.”

“I... Alright. If you’re sure.” Jaime accepted it and offered the other to Dimitri. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The sauce was rich, layered with a more subtle sweetness than the honey glaze, and the spice warmed him up as he ate. His shoulders were still damp from the magical snow.

Their storm reminded him of the mage he’d seen with Mirza all those years ago, shaping sparks in the air. Magic meant to entertain, to delight.

Jaime had watched with a raw expression that made something twinge in Dimitri’s chest, even if he couldn’t truly understand it.

“How’s your magic?” Dimitri asked quietly.

Jaime closed his eyes. He shook his head without opening them.

“It’s the same.”

Worry made Dimitri frown. “Has it taken this long to start recovering before?”

“Not... Not quite like this, no.”

Dimitri let out a silent sigh. He had no point of reference, but something about the situation, and the way Jaime reacted every time it was mentioned, felt wrong.

Unfortunately, he also had no way of doing anything about it.

When they finished, they started in the direction the food seller had suggested for another book shop. It was the second and final evening of the festival, according to the man who’d tried to sell them massive garlands of paper snowflakes as they passed, and the crowds were still in full force.

They found the shop at the corner of two streets, an old building with a large glass window in the front that was piled high with books. 

“What kind of books do you think Opal would like?” Dimitri asked. “Ash wrote that they should be simple.”

“Easy, but not too basic,” Jaime agreed. “Otherwise it would be boring. If they have a storybook, I think she’d like that.”

“We can ask the staff.”

The shop was devoid of customers and their footsteps sounded too loud as they stepped inside. It smelled of of paper and ink, with a hint of something like wood polish. A tarnished chandelier hung in the center, giving everything a warm glow despite the onset of evening.

This shop held even more books than the one Dimitri typically went to, with shelves spanning the entire distance from floor to ceiling. Jaime made a noise of appreciation.

“Welcome to Islov Books,” a voice said from somewhere. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Jaime frowned. “Is that...”

A fair-haired woman came around the corner brandishing a feather duster. “Happy snow festival. What can I...”

She scanned their faces and paused, suddenly uncertain.

“It’s you.” Jaime stepped forward. “You made it home alright, then?”

The woman gripped the duster tighter. “Quite, thank you. What brings you here?”

“We didn’t come looking for you,” Dimitri said bluntly. “We’re here for a book. The other shop was closed.”

“It’s for our, um, friend,” Jaime added. “She’s practicing reading.”

For a moment, the woman remained skeptical.

Dimitri heard Mirza’s voice in the back of his mind reminding him of his tendency to scowl and consciously made himself smile.

“We think she’d like a storybook,” Jaime said, also smiling. “Something easy, but interesting enough for a thirteen-year-old.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Your friend is thirteen?'

Dimitri backtracked. “She’s... my sister’s ward. My niece and nephew are about the same age, but they’ve had more practice reading.”

This seemed to be enough to assuage the woman’s worries.

“Hm. I see. I have a few you can choose from, then,” she said. “Depending on her level.”

They watched as she plucked several books from the shelves and set them on a wide table to one side of the room.

“This is the easiest,” she said, gesturing. “This is the most advanced. These two fall somewhere in the middle. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“You run this shop?” Jaime asked.

While this was likely not the type of question the woman had in mind, she lingered near the table and shook her head. “It was my father’s. My sister runs it now, but I came back to the city to help.”

“It’s very nice,” Jaime said warmly. “I haven’t seen so many books in one place in a long time.”

“Have you read them all?” Dimitri looked around, contemplating the amount of time that would take. He could count the books he’d read for his own enjoyment on his fingers and still have a few to spare.

“Goodness. No.” The woman chuckled. “Though that would be a worthy ambition.”

Jaime flipped through the stories and tapped one with a mountain on the front. He leaned closer to Dimitri.

“Maybe this one? What do you think?”

Dimitri squinted at the list of folk tales inside the cover. “Sure. She would like the stories. It's not too hard?"

"A challenge can be motivating for newer readers," the woman offered. "Provided it doesn't feel completely out of reach."

Jaime nodded. "We'll take this one, please." 

The woman took the book from him. “I’ll wrap it up for you. Feel free to take a look around.”

The sheer number of volumes was enough to occupy Dimitri for several minutes.

He heard Jaime let out a soft gasp and turned to find him easing a book from an ornate shelf.

“What is it?” Dimitri asked.

“It’s a—I don’t know the word. It tells about a lot of different magical things.” Jaime ran a hand over the cover almost reverently. “Do you think I can look at it?”

Dimitri shrugged. “She said look around. And it wasn’t locked up.”

Nodding, Jaime laid the book on the table and bent over it with rapt attention.

Dimitri drifted to a slim book that had drawings of various knots on the cover. He opened it and scanned the pages, disappointed to find that most of them were already familiar. Towards the end, he located one that was new to him, a complex pattern that could be used to secure and tighten lengths of rope to create the proper tension.

A knot like that would be useful. 

He studied the diagram, moving his hands and trying to commit it to memory.

“Dimitri.” Jaime spoke at his side. “I, um, I need some air. I’ll be back.”

Dimitri turned to find Jaime’s face pale. “I’ll come out with you.”

“I’ll be right outside. I promise.”

Something made Dimitri nod his agreement to stay. Jaime slipped out the front door without another word, not even setting off the bell.

Frowning, Dimitri made his way to the book he’d been studying so intently.

It was large and thick, with faintly yellowed pages and detailed illustrations. The open page showed a tree, tall and twisting and radiating light.

The text was in an alphabet he didn’t recognize.

“Here you go,” the woman said. “The wrapping is on me.”

He took the book, which was now covered in fine yellow paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

“Thank you,” Dimitri said with a smile he didn’t have to force. “This will be perfect. How much?”

She told him the price and he counted out the proper number of coins.

Dimitri set his pack down to carefully tuck the book between their other purchases. “I made the report. I don’t know if anything will come of it, but we went this morning.”

The woman sighed. “Thank you. And... Thank you again. For your help last night.”

“Of course.” He straightened and pointed to the open page. “What can you tell me about this book?”

Her eyebrows rose and her expression brightened. “Oh! I forgot we had this. No wonder it’s so dusty. It’s an encyclopedia of magical flora and fauna. It was printed in Del Mar. I don't know how we ended up with a copy.”

“You can read it?” Dimitri asked.

She smiled. “A little. My Del Mari isn’t very good, I admit, but my father used to read all sorts of things to us. Is your friend from there? I thought he might be.”

“He is.” Dimitri looked back at the book, trying to discern if it had been what sent Jaime seeking solitude. “What’s this tree?”

The woman leaned down. “Ah, the atoleiro. I do know this one. We call it a quagmire tree.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised. They’re rare. They’re formed when an exceptionally powerful mage dies. The resulting dispersion of energy creates the tree, and can keep it alive for hundreds of years.” She ran a fingertip over the earth beneath the tree. “The ambient magic is said to permanently alter the surrounding soil to create a sort of localized mire. Hence the name.”

Dimitri peered at the way the tree had been drawn with a golden glow not unlike Jaime’s wards. “So it puts off magic?”

“A lot of magic, yes.” The woman tapped the page. “Some scholars debate whether their signature is stronger than—”

“Where could I find one?” Dimitri asked.

The woman blinked at him.

“They’re very rare.”

“But they exist.”

“Well, yes. Their existence is reasonably well documented.”

Dimitri gave her an expectant look. “So is there a map?”

She frowned, unmoved. “A map.”

“To a... quagmire tree, yes.”

The woman raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m curious.”

She raised the other.

“I can’t say,” Dimitri amended. “But it’s important."

"All sources indicate that their locations are closely guarded." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

But Dimitri had caught a glimmer of something when she'd first seen the picture of the tree. He pressed again. "I have to try. It's... It could help someone who needs it." He breathed out. "And I promise, we wouldn’t hurt the tree. Please. Do you know where I can find one?”

The woman’s eyes remained fixed on his for some time, then she nodded slowly. “I don’t have a map, but my grandmother always told us she saw one as a girl. It’s a bit of a family legend.”

Hope fluttered in his stomach. "Where?"

"You wouldn't hurt the tree?"

"You have my word."

"Very well. I believe you." Her hand rested on the page. "She said she found it on Mount Maryat. By the time I heard the story, she didn't remember exactly where."

“Truly?” Dimitri knew of that mountain. It was out of the way of their path back to the camp, but not so far that they couldn’t make it, even with the extra load. “So close?”

"It's legend,” she repeated firmly. “Not a fact. My father tried to find it once and couldn’t. But... if it's that important to you, that’s the best I can offer.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. “That’s enough.”

Chapter Text

Outside the shop, the sky was darkening to a deep red and the crowds were just beginning to dwindle.

Jaime ducked toward the narrow space between buildings, using the wall to steady his steps. Once shielded from the streets, he let his pack slip to the ground and unwound Dimitri’s scarf with trembling fingers.

It had happened again.

He’d been poring over the book, heart in his throat. An aching nostalgia settled on him as he’d opened it, sharpening as he realized the effort it now required to read sentences in his native tongue.

Then, in the space between one word and the next, a searing pain hit his chest, enough to weaken his knees and take his breath away.

He gritted his teeth and tugged at the collar of his shirt, already suspecting what he would find.

His stomach still turned at sight of the blistered skin just above his heart.

Jaime let his head fall against faded brick and closed his eyes.

The other wounds had been harder to place. Cuts and bruises were common enough.

He hadn’t been sure if his arm had been his fault, if he truly had slipped while slicing the fruit. The rest had been even more inexplicable, yet impossible to tie to a specific source. He’d even wondered, briefly, if he was being pursued by some vengeful spirit.

This injury was different. Unmistakable.

He knew exactly when it had happened. Where he’d been. What he’d been wearing. Even what the air of that night had felt like, biting at his face and neck.

Five years ago. They’d been near Navisk, at the northernmost tip of the country, where ice floes lingered in the great lakes even in high summer and the sky glowed green and scarlet at night.

As winter came on, the hunters had captured ten wolves in a single day, the most they’d taken at once before or since, packing them into three cages and then beginning the arduous process of waiting for them to die.

One by one, they did.

One by one, the hunters skinned them and stretched their furs to dry.

And when the last was ready, they’d pushed Jaime toward the wide slab of rock where all ten pelts were spread.

He’d layered on the various enchantments they wanted. (He hadn’t even allowed himself to hesitate, not that time.)

While he did, the hunters toasted their upcoming profits with tankards of sour, foamy berevud.

Once the magic settled into the thick fur, they’d prepared Eskender’s brand. Crossed daggers, burned into each pelt to make sure everyone knew where the superior product came from.

The smell of scorched fur still heavy in the air, Jaime rolled each fur and secured them with twine.

Then he’d turned to retreat into his small tent to curl up and steal some rest while the hunters celebrated and then, inevitably, slept off the spirits in the morning.

But before he could, Tulio caught him by the arm.

“Hold on, little mage.”

Tulio steered him back toward the fire, toward the others, and stopped where Eskender sat in repose, a silhouette against the flames.

“Hm,” Eskender contemplated, looking Jaime up and down. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Jaime’s pulse had rushed in his ears and he’d dropped his eyes to the ground, desperate to stave off a punishment before it was too late. “I—I’m sorry. Did I make a mistake? I can fix—”

“No, no. It was my mistake.”

His mouth went dry. “...Sir?”

“Tulio pointed out that I’ve neglected to mark something of importance.”

Jaime cast through his memory for what they could mean and came up empty.

Then he felt someone pulling at the hem of his shirt and his blood ran cold.

“No,” he’d said. It hadn’t made a difference.

He’d been frozen in place.

The rough fabric of his shirt rasped over his arms, over his head. Hands gripped his shoulders.

“Eskender,” Jaime breathed, pleading, meeting the man’s pale eyes. “Please. I did what you asked.”

Eskender made a thoughtful noise. “You did. Look at you. You've been doing very well for us lately, in fact.” He set a hand on top of Jaime’s head, gentle for one instant, then gripping his hair and pushing him to his knees.

His voice turned silky. “And this way, you’ll always know exactly where you belong.”

The hiss of the metal brand had emerged from the fire.

Then there was nothing but pain.

They’d waited two days before letting him heal it enough to keep infection from spreading.

The scar remained, slowly fading from pink to white, but still rough and tender and impossible to ignore.

It had been the first time they hurt him, really hurt him, anyway, when he hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t made an error, hadn’t talked back, hadn’t resisted, hadn’t refused.

Just because they could.

Things changed after that, an unspoken line erased from the sand.

He wasn’t a child anymore.

Jaime pressed his hands to his face and let the throbbing of his chest pull him back to the cramped alley.

There was no question in his mind about the origin of the burn—nor why it was suddenly as fresh as the moment the brand had left his skin.

It had to be his magic.

He remembered, through a fog, his mother teaching him that magic was part of a mage just as much as flesh and bone. Just as vital.

And he’d depleted his to the point that it could no longer sustain itself. Or him.

Like a patient who’d lost too much blood, fading before the system could replenish it. Or a body deprived of sustenance for too long, feeding on itself to try and stay alive a little longer.

They weren’t new wounds.

They were ones, reopening.

The bell over the shop door tinkled, startling Jaime from his panic.

He snatched the scarf and wrapped it back around his neck.

Dimitri’s voice cut through the shadows.

“Jaime?”

“I’m here, sorry,” Jaime said, picking up the pack and easing it over one shoulder, then the other.

Dimitri came around the corner.

“You alright?” he asked.

Jaime opened his mouth to tell him. (He knew he should tell him.)

But the words fizzled on his tongue.

A mage without magic was useless. A dying one was even worse.

If things didn’t get better, he’d have to somehow discern the best way to approach the subject. But right now, he just—couldn’t.

So he said, “Yes. The fresh air helped.”

Dimitri watched him for a moment, his face half hidden in darkness.

“That book looked interesting,” he said at last.

Jaime blinked. “The book? Oh. Yes. It was.”

“An encylopedia, was it?”

Right. That was the word.

Jaime nodded.

“I’ve never seen a book like that.”

“I don’t think there are very many copies. My... My parents had the same one in their library.”

“I see. The illustrations were beautifully done,” Dimitri offered.

Jaime softened. “Yes, they are.”

“The quagmire tree was something,” Dimitri said, with the tone of someone casting a line into water, waiting to see what would come up. “Do you know much about them?”

Jaime sifted through his recolllections. Finally, he shook his head, ignoring the wave of dizziness that followed. “I can’t remember much. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri looked at him again, a thin line appearing between his brows. Then he shrugged. “It’s alright.”

Beckoning Jaime closer, Dimitri pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and spread it against the wall. A ray of soft light fell on a scribbled map. He traced a line through the streets with one finger. “She said there’s a walled district here, so this is the fastest way to get back to the Thorny Rose. Otherwise we’d have to backtrack all the way to the city center and go around.”

Fatigue pulled at Jaime’s limbs like quicksand and Dimitri looked just as exhausted. “Good idea.”

They followed the map down one street, then another, passing through a tidy residential area.

Well, Dimitri followed the map, glancing down periodically and adjusting their course. Jaime clung to just enough presence of mind to make sure he stayed close and kept his feet moving in the same direction.

When they reached another business district, a sparkling manmade stream cut across a square and the foot traffic compressed to fit over the bridge.

He glanced into the rippling water below and hoped they’d find a better crossing for the big river on their return trip. One that didn’t involve tree trunks.

The flow of people carried them to the edge of a night market, stalls scattered along the road.

Dimitri pulled them away from the crowd to stick to the far side of the street.

Jaime scarcely noticed what they passed, his eyes glazing over the sellers and shoppers alike. His skin felt too hot and too cold by turns, his mind going hazy if he didn’t force himself to pay attention.

So when Dimitri abruptly stopped, Jaime walked into him and had to swallow a yelp at the impact.

He followed Dimitri’s gaze.

A pair of women stood on the streetcorner, surrounded by stacked metal crates.

Not crates, he realized upon second glance. Cages. Cages that held live animals—birds and rabbits and even what looked like a pair of red-shelled Lamean tortoises.

“Pheasants,” one woman called. “Caught fresh this morning.”

Dimitri had gone rigid beside him.

The other woman noticed them staring and bustled over.

“Travelers, I see?” She gave a merchant’s too-bright smile. “Can I interest you in a good luck charm for the way home? Caught this in the forest too. It doesn’t look like much now, but it’s got fortune in its eyes, just wait and see. I’ll give you a good deal.”

She gestured toward a cage at the top of a stack.

Inside lay the limp body of a little cat. It sprawled on its side, ribs visible beneath golden, black-spotted fur. When it lifted its head, it cracked open odd-colored eyes.

“What?” Jaime looked from the miserable kitten to the woman. “The... The cat?”

The woman squinted at his face and spoke again, loud and over-enunciated. “Good luck. The cat is rare. Your friend can explain.” She winked at Dimitri and directed her words to him. “Give it a bit of milk and it should perk up before long, but if not, just as helpful stuffed, right?”

Jaime grimaced.

Dimitri’s breath was coming faster and he still hadn’t moved.

“No thank you,” Jaime said firmly.

He took Dimitri’s arm.

Dimitri startled and opened his mouth, but no words came out. His pupils were blown wide, and he seemed unable to fully focus on Jaime’s face.

“Come on,” Jaime murmured. “This way.”

Dimitri remained stiff but didn’t resist, allowing Jaime to guide them around the corner. Jaime spotted a bench set into an arched stone alcove and prompted Dimitri to sit, sinking down beside him. He took Dimitri’s pack from his shoulders and set it aside.

It was much heavier than Jaime’s.

Dimitri’s fists clenched tight on his knees and his shoulders hunched inward, his head sinking down and his eyes squeezing shut.

Jaime hesitated, then set one hand on Dimitri’s back.

“You’re okay,” he said softly. “We’re safe.”

Dimitri didn’t respond.

Jaime bit his lip.

He didn’t know what to say—or if he should even try to say anything at all. So he just sat beside Dimitri and breathed deliberately, long and slow.

A few minutes passed. Dimitri’s breathing began to mirror his, each inhale and exhale moving Jaime’s hand up and down.

Then Dimitri dropped his head into one hand.

For a moment, he was silent. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Jaime.”

Jaime withdrew his touch. “Yes?”

Dimitri let out a ragged sigh, then produced the coin purse from his coat and held it to Jaime without looking up.

“Get the cat.”

Dimitri pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars and counted to a hundred. Then two hundred. Then three.

Slowly, the tight feeling bled away from his body. As it faded, it left him feeling like a puppet with cut strings, worn out and loose-limbed.

Footsteps made him pause.

Jaime sat beside him.

Heat flushed up Dimitri’s neck.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen live meat markets before. He’d passed them a dozen times.

And he should’ve been fine by now, either way.

Instead, he’d frozen up as badly as a pup on his first hunt and had to be led away like some sort of frail elder.

Jaime made a sound like clearing his throat.

He braced himself for a comment on what had happened.

It didn’t come. Instead, the coin purse clinked as Jaime set it on the bench.

Dimitri raised his head, blinking to clear his vision.

Jaime held out a steaming wooden cup. “I... I got you tea. I hope that was okay.”

“Oh.” Dimitri took it, breathing in the faint sweetness of honey and lavender.

His throat was painfully dry.

“Thank you,” he managed.

He took a small sip, focusing his attention on the heat as he swallowed, the reddish color of the liquid, the smooth grain of the cup.

His heartbeat still felt too fast. But it was slowing.

Jaime cradled the kitten on his lap and offered it milk from a shallow dish. It gave a weak sniff then began to lap.

“Dimitri,” Jaime said, looking down at the cat. The sunset darkened the bruise on his face to a broad smudge of black.

“Hm.”

“We are not stuffing her.” It was half confirmation, half challenge. “Right?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Jaime relaxed and tucked the edge of his coat over the cat’s back to shield her from the wind.

“Hello, koshka.” Dimitri reached one finger out to brush over a tiny ear. “How much did the merchants charge you for her?”

Jaime gave a light shrug. “Nothing.”

Dimitri frowned. “Nothing? Why?”

Something like a smirk curled up at the corner of Jaime’s mouth. “Well. I pressed them on their selling practices.”

Dimitri gave him a baffled look. “You did?”

“Yes.” Jaime made a disapproving noise. “I mean, there were some clear violations.”

“Please,” Dimitri said. “Tell me exactly how that went.”

For a moment Jaime hesitated, then he began to speak, his hands moving in illustration. “For starters, they were pushing the limits of the smallest cage size and number of animals allowed in a cage. And they didn’t have a permit to be selling imported tortoises. They didn’t even have their merchant’s license on hand. Not to mention this one’s poor health.”

His face scrunched in disdain. “Then when I started asking why they had her in the first place, they got nervous. Nyitzi are on the emperor’s list of protected species. I’m surprised they risked it in an open market. It wasn’t very smart, even if they had been caring for her properly.”

Dimitri stared at him.

“How... do you know all that?”

“Oh.” Pink crept into Jaime’s cheeks, his expression turning sheepish. He cleared his throat again. “I suppose I’ve, um, read a lot of paperwork.”

That brought a laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside him.

It filled his lungs and sent his head back, bursting out all at once.

When he stopped laughing, he wiped his eyes, feeling shaky and tired but lighter, too.

He found Jaime following his movements with a warm gaze.

He reached to nudge Jaime’s shoulder.

“Well done, then,” Dimitri said. It was his turn to smirk. “And well deserved, it seems. I wish I’d seen it.”

Jaime ducked his head with a pleased smile.

The cat finished the milk and let out a tiny yawn, pink tongue curling. Dimitri crooked his finger under her chin and scratched.

“Opal is going to love you. What do you think about Zoloste?” he asked, glancing up at Jaime. “For a name.”

“Mm, I like it. What do you think, little one?” Jaime ran a hand over the cat’s spine and she purred. “Well. Zoloste it is.”

His pronunciation of the name was accented, too round on the vowels, and for some reason this made Dimitri smile again.

Jaime fished into his pocket and held up a long strip of snowflake-embroidered fabric. “I thought we could make a sling for her.”

When Dimitri agreed, Jaime held the fabric toward him.

Dimitri gave him a puzzled look. “I thought you’d want to carry her.”

Jaime faltered. “Oh. I, um... Would you?”

“Sure.” Dimitri shrugged. “If you like.”

He set the dregs of his tea aside and waited.

Jaime paused, then leaned closer, slipping an arm beneath Dimitri’s to loop the fabric around his back and over his shoulder. He repeated the loop on the other side, his fingers warm as they ghosted against the side of Dimitri’s neck.

Dimitri caught the faint smell of the inn’s woodsy soap.

Jaime’s brow creased in concentration as he tied the wrap, smoothing the ends where they rested on Dimitri’s chest. “Is that too tight?”

“No,” Dimitri said quietly. “No, that’s fine.”

Straightening, Jaime picked up the kitten and eased her into the sling. She let out a raspy meow of protest at the disturbance, but quickly curled into Dimitri and began to purr again.

“She seems happy with it,” Dimitri said.

“Good.”

Jaime smiled at the kitten. Even so, the dark circles under his eyes had grown even deeper since the morning, and the lines of strain in his posture were hard to miss.

As soon as they got on the road in the morning, Dimitri decided, he’d suggest diverting to look for the tree. If Jaime’s health, magical and otherwise, hadn’t gotten any better in two days—seemed to be worse, if anything—there was no reason to think it would suddenly start to improve on its own.

Dimitri stood and held out a hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I think all of us could use some sleep. The little golden one included.”

Jaime struggled to see the lines on the makeshift map, but Dimitri seemed to have no problem reading it even as the last of the sun’s glow faded and they were left to move between patches of reedy lamplight.

At least, Jaime thought so until Dimitri stopped beneath a lone lamp and turned the map from side to side.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Dimitri scowled. “We should be back in an area I know soon by now. I must have taken a wrong turn.”

“Oh.” Jaime frowned, glancing around. “We could...”

He started to say ask for directions, but they’d found themselves surrounded by narrow streets and darkened storefronts without another person in sight. Jaime stepped closer to peer at the map.

“Maybe—”

A deep boom shook the air.

He and Dimitri jumped in unison.

“What was—”

Light exploded in the sky behind them, sparks rising from the distant city center in a shower of gold.

Jaime’s eyes widened.

Fireworks.

Another boom sounded and Dimitri cursed, hands flying to the sling.

Zoloste was clawing her way out in a panic, hissing and leaping to the ground in a pile of bushed-out fur. She sailed through Dimitri’s fingers and raced into the shadows.

“Nine hells,” Dimitri swore again. “Did you see where she went?”

“That way, I think.”

They rushed after her.

Boom.

The firework created a glimpse of their shadows against the black stone of a wall.

The wall cut the road down the middle, sending two paths curving into darkness.

“I’ll go this way,” Jaime said. “Shout if you see her?”

Dimitri gave a sharp nod.

Boom.

They split up. Jaime’s quick steps echoed in the quiet.

The shops on this street huddled close together with little room for an animal to hide.

He pressed on.

Boom.

The next firework illuminated an alley up ahead. He raced toward it, his body aching with each thud against the cobblestone streets.

“Tststs.” Jaime peered into the depths. “Koshka?”

Boom.

The light glared off the shop window beside him, pulling his gaze.

His eyes went wide.

Behind the glass, a wolf pelt hung on display.

A pelt he recognized.

A pelt from Dimitri’s pack.

Boom.

Gold lit up rich brown fur, one side streaked with a distinct patch of white.

Jaime’s breath caught in his throat.

The little girl who’d shied away from him, Mila.

It was her father. He remembered.

He’d been formidable, snarling whenever Jaime approached the two smaller wolves he’d been captured with and holding on longer than anyone expected.

But, like all the wolves who came before him, he had died in the end.

Alone. Afraid. And trapped in a cage Jaime had enchanted.

(“We don’t leave the dead above ground,” Dimitri had said. “Even our enemies.”)

He glanced at the alley.

Then at the storefront.

He tried the knob.

It didn’t turn.

Boom.

A metal mail slot glinted in the center of the door.

Jaime dropped his pack and knelt, snaking his hand through the slot. The metal bit into his upper arm as he strained to reach the lock inside. His fingers brushed the edge of the mechanism but missed. He pushed his arm through another hand’s breadth, gritting his teeth.

Finally, the lock budged with a soft click.

Sliding his arm out and shaking it once, he reached for the knob again.

This time, the door swung open on well-oiled hinges.

Boom.

His shadow stretched into the shop.

The air inside was thick and stifling and soundless.

He closed the door behind himself.

The smell of old incense clung sickly-sweet to his rapid breaths.

A floorboard creaked beneath his feet.

He froze.

When nothing happened, he continued his path.

The shop held books and bags, rough-cut crystals and iron charms, sealed paper packets and painted masks.

He turned his attention away and moved toward the window.

Boom.

The light gleamed off finely braided metal wires, holding the pelt taut for full effect.

Jaime released the bottom clips, then stood on tiptoe and undid the top ones.

The fur fell into his arms.

Tears pressed at the corners of his eyes and shame stung in his throat as he ran a hand over the white mark.

He rolled it carefully and started to step back.

Boom.

He caught sight of two more pelts nestled into a nook below the display.

One a pale cream, the other a speckled tan.

Colors he remembered.

Not from Hearthstone.

But wolves all the same.

He just managed to tuck the three thick bundles into his arms.

A barrage of fireworks sounded all at once.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The sky glowed brilliant shades of pink and green.

Jaime allowed himself one moment to watch the sparks scatter and dim outside the window.

The night faded back to darkness and quiet again.

He took a step toward the door.

He needed to find Zoloste—and Dimitri.

A low, smooth voice stopped him.

“Well. What do we have here?”

Jaime spun around.

A figure lit a match with a hiss and pressed it into a lantern on the wall.

Orange flame revealed a pair of small, beetle-black eyes and a head of greying hair.

The eyes widened, then narrowed.

“I know you.”

Jaime sprinted to the door and flung it open.

A tall man blocked the exit, twirling a knife in one hand. A glimmer of recognition dawned in his face too, his expression shifting from menace to something almost pleased. “Now, now. Not so fast.”

When Jaime took a step backward, he bumped into the first man, who’d come up behind him.

“This certainly isn’t what I expected to find when our wards went off,” the black-eyed man said in the same soft voice. His breath tickled Jaime’s ear. “But it’s not entirely unwelcome, either. We never did get to finish our chat last night.”

Wards. Jaime cursed himself. With the collar, he hadn’t sensed them—but he hadn’t even considered the possibility, in a place like this.

“I... I saw the wolf pelts,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Mhm... Clearly.” The man tutted. “But we can’t let you take those.”

“They cost a small fortune, you know,” the tall man said. “Bit greedy of you.”

“They were people,” Jaime said, his voice holding steady. “It’s not right.”

“Animals, people. Either way. They’re product now.” The tall man took them from Jaime’s arms. “And we bought them.”

“So, unless you intend on paying in full...”

Jaime had a half-dozen spells on the tip of his tongue, hovering on his fingertips—all of them useless.

The lantern light flicked off the spinning knife blade.

“In gold,” the tall man said, “or... other ways.”

Jaime felt a familiar stiffness seize his limbs, holding him in place.

He bit his cheek until he tasted blood.

He couldn’t let himself freeze this time.

The tall man reached out and Jaime darted sideways, ready to duck around him and escape out the door into the night.

A hand grabbed his hair from behind, pulling hard enough to stop him in his tracks.

The black-eyed man dragged Jaime backwards, one hand fisted in his curls and the other holding another knife to Jaime’s throat.

“Let me go,” Jaime gritted out.

The blade bit into his skin. Thin trails of blood slid down his neck.

“We’re not going to just forgive and forget, little thief,” the black-eyed man said. “That would have set us back six months’ profit at least.”

Jaime struggled, but the man’s grip only tightened. “If that’s the case,” he gasped, “you really need—a better business model.”

A crow of laughter pierced the room.

“Clever thing,” the tall man said. “It’ll be a shame to—”

He paused.

Stepping nearer, his gaze turned intense.

“My, my,” he said, in a new tone of voice. “Isn’t that interesting.”

“What?” the black-eyed man demanded.

“Look.” The tall man gestured to Jaime’s neck, where the scarf had slipped down. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”

Jaime’s heart stuttered.

No.

The black-eyed man slid the knife lower so he could run his little finger across the collar. “Full of surprises, little thief. What do the runes say?”

“It’s an old one,” the tall man said, peering at the golden marks in the leather. "Well-made, though. Keyed to just one person, I think. And it looks like a total binding of power."

Jaime’s whole body burned with fear and anger, hottest where the man was touching him.

His hands formed fists at his sides. 

“How convenient.” The black-eyed man tugged Jaime’s hair. “That wouldn’t be your charming friend with the knives, would it? Is he around?”

“Fyon will see to him if he is,” the tall man said, waving it off.

“No,” the black-eyed man snapped. “This changes things. If we’re careful, we should be able to re-key the binding.”

"Good point." The tall man’s eyes glittered. “We could stop throwing out money to Ihjra whenever we need something."

“Exactly." The black-eyed man took several steps away from the door, pulling Jaime with him. "So if anyone else shows up, capture first. Kill later.”

“I’ll tell Fyon.” The tall man turned. “Be right back.”

He ducked out the door.

Jaime went still in the beetle-eyed man’s grasp and made rapid-fire calculations.

He had to get himself out of this. Without magic.

He’d watched the hunters spar, watched them teach new members, even participated when it tickled their fancy. He just had to remember—to think, and fast.

The black-eyed man was too tall, his grip too tight, for Jaime to break his nose. And he didn’t have anything he could use as a weapon.

“Well, little thief? Is your master coming? Is he the one who landed a hit on you?" The man’s breath smelled of stale cigar smoke as he tried to goad Jaime. “Trouble in paradise, is it? We can help with that.”

“I came alone."

The man tutted. “Pity. Well, if that is the case, we’ll just have to find him, then.”

“Let go of me, and I’ll tell you,” Jaime tried.

The hand in his hair squeezed as the man snorted. “I wasn’t born this morning, and I'm certainly not going to risk you slipping the bindings somehow. We’ll stay nice and cozy until we’ve got a plan.”

When Jaime swallowed, the knife bobbed.

The sensation brought back the memory of the hunters instructing a pair of siblings once, almost as young as Jaime and too prone to compassion to last long in Eskender’s crew.

“Use circles to break holds,” Eskender had said. “Like this.”

Circles. He could do that.

Jaime remembered the press of a knife to his neck then, too, as Tulio demonstrated for the siblings to watch.

“You want to protect here, here, and here.” He’d gestured, not caring that he pricked Jaime’s skin. “If you can, get a hand up and grab the knife. Most won’t expect that, and it’s better to cut your hand than get your throat slit.”

Jaime stopped resisting completely and let out a soft whimper, waiting until he felt the man’s grip loosen by the tiniest fraction.

Then he reached up and grabbed the blade of the knife, twisting it hard to wrench the man’s wrist and spinning his own head and body at the same time.

Surprise loosened the man’s fingers and sent him tripping over his own feet. He swore.

Jaime gripped the knife in his good hand and backed quickly toward the door.

But the man charged him.

Jaime darted to the side.

The man corrected just in time to avoid ramming the wall. He regained his balance and gave Jaime a feral grin.

“Think carefully, little thief. There are plenty of ways to make a mage suffer without killing.” The man reached out a hand, his eyes dark with malice. “Play nicely and give me the knife, or I’ll start listing them for you.”

“Trust me,” Jaime spat. “My list would be much longer than yours.”

Voices shouted from the alley.

He couldn’t make out the words.

But he knew he had to hurry.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the wide shop window behind him.

Stepping sideways, he positioned himself in front of it.

“You and your sad little friends are so desperate for power that you, what, hoard enchanted trinkets? Buy and sell the skins of magical creatures?” Jaime forced a disdainful scoff. “It won’t work. I have power you haven’t even dreamed of. And you never will.”

The black-eyed man’s grin turned to a snarl of rage.

He drew another blade and ran at Jaime again.

Jaime made his expression go stricken. He waited until the last second.

Then he threw himself to the ground.

The man didn’t have time to react. He toppled over Jaime’s back and tumbled forward, hitting the window with full force.

The glass shattered.

Jaime shielded his head with his arms as the man crashed onto the street.

Shaking, he uncurled his limbs. A dusting of shards fell to the floor.

The black-eyed man lay motionless in a sea of glass.

There was more shouting from the alley.

Jaime leapt through the ruined window and skidded to a halt at the sight of three men grappling.

It was Dimitri. And he was fighting the tall man and the short, redheaded one.

The tall man bore a deep cut on his cheek. The redheaded man bled from a slash across one arm even as he swung a long-chained mace. Dimitri dodged and it hit the brick wall.

But the tall man spun, delivering a kick to Dimitri’s side that left him reeling.

“Get the mage,” the tall man barked. “Then check on Vlad!”

The redheaded man—Fyon—peeled away from the fight to go after Jaime, spinning his mace.

Jaime’s mind was half-blank with panic but he forced himself to stand still until Fyon was within arm’s reach. Then he hooked upward with the knife, tangling the blade in the mace’s chain and yanking it downwards. The man’s momentum carried him another step and Jaime met him halfway, slamming his forehead forward into the man’s nose.

Fyon cried out and pitched sideways. Blood poured down his chin.

Jaime pulled the mace from his grasp and took the handle in both hands, slippery with blood. He swung.

The ball sank into Fyon’s shoulder with a sickening crunch and sent him into the wall of the shop.

He didn’t get up.

Jaime looked up in time to see Dimitri slam the tall man against the corner of the alley, hands fisted in his shirt.

The tall man hit hard, his head bouncing off brick.

But then Dimitri gasped.

Jaime stopped mid-step.

A knife was buried hilt-deep in Dimitri’s side.

The tall man used the split second of shock to twist the knife with one hand and grab Dimitri’s collar with the other, shoving him against the opposite side of the alley.

“Dimitri!” Jaime shouted.

He bent to retrieve the black-eyed man’s fallen blade.

As he did, Dimitri growled.

Where he’d stood, a black wolf balanced on hind legs.

The tall man’s face blanched.

He opened his mouth.

Before he could so much as shout, Dimitri tore out his throat with bared teeth.

The man fell backwards.

Dimitri dropped onto four paws, his sides heaving.

He let out a yowl of pain and twisted sideways, closing his jaws around the blade.

“No!” Jaime threw out a hand.

It was too late. Dimitri yanked out the knife at an awkward angle. It clattered to the ground.

Blood spread across his side, making his fur shine in the moonlight.

He was already weakening, more than he should have been, staggering in place and panting. Foam beaded at his chin as he sank to his haunches. His eyes were white and wild.

Jaime stumbled toward him, arm outstretched in reassurance. “Dimitri. I’ll find a way to heal you, alright? Just hold still, and try to shift back, and—”

He reached too close.

Too close, at least, for a cornered wolf.

Dimitri snapped his teeth, tearing the skin of Jaime’s hand.

Jaime snatched it back. He stopped moving nearer.

Dimitri pressed his back against the wall of the alley, his forelegs buckling. His tongue lolled to one side of his mouth.

Jaime picked up the tall man’s bloodstained knife. Three runes carved on the hilt caught his eye. He squinted at them.

Some sort of dark enchantment. He could tell that much. And from the looks of things, one that worked quickly.

“It’s okay,” Jaime said to Dimitri in a soft, shaky voice. “You’re going to be okay. You’re—You’re one of the strongest people I know. Just shift back, and I can fix this.”

Dimitri was going limp. His weight rested half on the wall and half on his crumpled legs.

Jaime inched closer.

This time, the wolf didn’t snarl.

His gasping breaths had faded to shallow whines.

“Dimitri.” He swallowed hard. “Please. You have to shift. I can’t heal you unless you tell me to, but it—it’s not too late. I can fix this.”

Dimitri lifted his head.

His eyes met Jaime’s.

A spark of recognition showed through the milky haze. 

“Change back,” Jaime whispered. “Please.”

The wolf blinked.

And the man took his place again.

Dimitri’s face was a mask of pain, his limbs contorting as he reached for the wound at his side. Blood spilled around his fingers.

“Dimitri,” Jaime breathed. He closed the rest of the distance between them and clutched Dimitri’s coat. “Let me heal you. The blade was cursed, and there isn’t—”

“No,” Dimitri said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have any magic left.”

“I can try,” Jaime insisted. “I have to try.”

“You can’t,” Dimitri rasped. His head fell back against the stone. “It—It might kill you.”

“This is going to kill you if I don’t do anything,” Jaime choked out, holding him by both shoulders. “Dimitri, please. Please. I won’t let you die. Let me try.”

Dimitri’s eyes began to drift shut.

Jaime shook him. “Dimitri! Don’t be an idiot. Give me my magic, now!”

A shudder ran through Dimitri’s whole body.

Jaime moved a hand to the side of his head, cushioning it from the stone. His touch left blood streaked across Dimitri’s temple.

Jaime’s voice dropped to the barest breath. “Please.”

For a horrible moment, everything was still.

Jaime’s fingers shook where they wove into Dimitri’s hair.

Then Dimitri’s head moved in one tiny nod.

“Okay,” he murmured. “You can try.”

Relief flooded Jaime as he felt the awareness of his magic return. His reserves were still weak, still ashes, still nothing, but he didn’t care.

He was still alive, so there was magic in him somewhere—and he was going to find it.

He closed his eyes and scrabbled inside himself like a drowning man clawing for air.

As soon as he seized a tendril of power, he forced it to flow into Dimitri. Once. Twice. Three times.

Each scrap of magic tore away from him in a blaze of agony.

When he pulled and pushed for the fourth time, all the air left his lungs at once.

He gasped for breath at the same moment as Dimitri.

Jaime’s eyes flew open.

Dimitri’s eyes were open too. They were clear, and his face had color and his skin was warm beneath Jaime’s hand and his chest was rising and falling.

Jaime reached his other hand to brush where the wound had been.

Dimitri’s coat was soaked with blood.

But beneath it, the skin had closed, leaving only a faint line to tell the gruesome tale. 

He was healed. 

A noise burst from Jaime, half laugh and half sob. “It worked.”

Dimitri’s mouth moved but Jaime couldn't catch the sounds.

His ears were ringing.

Dimitri sat up gingerly, then got to his feet, taking Jaime’s hand in his. Jaime let Dimitri help him stand.

Dimitri spoke again. This time he heard it. “Are you alright?”

“I—I think I’m fine,” Jaime said quickly. 

In that instant, his knees gave out.

He tipped forward and Dimitri caught him, arms threading under Jaime’s to support his weight.

Jaime’s forehead rested against Dimitri’s shoulder and he fought to regain his composure.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I—”

“Jaime.” Dimitri’s voice was strangled. “Your back.”

“What?”

“Your back. It’s... It’s bleeding. A lot."

Dimitri sank to his knees. Jaime knelt along with him.

He felt Dimitri’s hands pull off his coat. The motion hurt, but the pain seemed to be far away.

Dimitri moved behind him went to remove his shirt.

"Wait," Jaime said.

Dimitri stopped. His breath was warm on Jaime's neck. 

After a second, he spoke softly.  

"Can I look? It... I just want to help."

Jaime squeezed his eyes shut. 

"Yeah," he whispered. "Okay."

The fabric peeled away.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

A bitten-off curse.

Then Dimitri was in front of him again. His face first paled and then flushed as he took in the bruised ribs, the bloodied neck, the blistered brand. 

Gooseflesh prickled up Jaime's arms. His cheeks burned with shame and he looked away.  

"Jaime." Dimitri's voice came out low, a quiet mix of anger and pain. He laid a hand, firm but careful, on Jaime's shoulder, and waited until Jaime met his eyes. 

"Who did this to you?”