Shineah and I work in silence at first, clearing the smoldering debris of what was once our home, dragging aside charred timbers, salvaging anything that survived the flames. There isn't much. Most of it is ash.
By midday, we've scraped together enough to build a crude lean‑to against the surviving corner of the foundation. It's nothing more than branches, bark, and a few smoke‑stained logs, but it will keep the wind off us. Charlie and Grizz wander down to the river and return with fresh fish, dropping them proudly at our feet before settling near the shelter as if to guard it.
As the sun dips low, we sit beneath a rough shelter, our shoulders touching, the forest quiet around us. It isn't a home — not yet — but it's a place to breathe. A place to rest. A place to gather ourselves after everything Oakhaven took.
We sleep lightly, wrapped in each other's warmth, the bears close enough to share their heat. The night is cold, but not unbearable. There is still some tension in the air over the thought of the mob some day returning, but it is muted now, softened by exhaustion and the fragile comfort of being together.
When dawn comes again, pale and thin through the trees, I feel something settle inside me — not peace, but clarity. Shineah rises beside me, brushing soot from her hair, her eyes heavy but steady.
"Shineah… I know Oakhaven is important to you. I don't expect you to give that up for my sake. And I do appreciate that you want to make me your first priority. But this whole Master situation… there's something you need to understand. The thought came to me during the battle in the marketplace — we can't save a city that doesn't want to be saved. As long as the people are corrupt, the problem never ends. And if the Master truly is a secret king of Oakhaven, then we may end up burning the whole city down before this is over.
"I meant what I said in the market," I continue, my voice low. "I can cleanse the land, but the people have to want it clean. They have to fight to keep it clean. I saw the Master's power there in the market. He can't draw strength like that without an immense number of followers. You need to realize how bad this is. This isn't a simple 'kill the villain and we all live happily ever after' kind of battle. In matters of spirit, killing the body does nothing — the evil just moves onto the next willing host."
Shineah listens, her earlier smile fading as my words settle over her like a shadow. The truth of it hits her hard — I can see it in her eyes. The burned home behind us, the mob's blind rage, the way fear twisted so quickly into violence… it all clicks into place for her.
"A secret king," she whispers, horror dawning. "Not just a cult leader… a sickness in the heart of Oakhaven."
She stares at the ruins, seeing them now not just as loss, but as a symptom. "It wasn't just fear," she murmurs. "It was a willingness to believe the worst. A vulnerability the Master exploited. And if he can move from host to host…" She shudders. "Then every battle we've fought — every cultist we've slain — was only trimming branches, not uprooting the rot."
Her gaze lifts to mine, wide with the enormity of it. "This isn't just about Oakhaven, is it?" she whispers. "It's about the spirit of its people. We can't fight an enemy who wears the faces of those we want to save… not without understanding how to save their souls."
"Yes… that's why I didn't want to put our marriage off. And why I hesitate concerning your cause. This is a war of the heart far more than it is of the sword." I look at her, steady. "Now… you have two brothers. I remember meeting them when we first met. I'm sorry, I don't remember their names — I was far more interested in you at the time. Do they live in town? Did you see them while you were away? How are they doing?"
Shineah nods slowly, the grim truth of everything I've said settling over her like a weight. "Yes," she whispers, glancing at the devastation around us. "I see that now more clearly than ever."
Her expression shifts as I mention her brothers — a fresh worry tightening her features. "Kael and Finn," she says, the names tasting bitter. "They… they live in the city, yes." She shivers, eyes going distant as she relives the chaos. "I saw them briefly, in the market square, before the mob turned. They were among the crowd, Tormack."
She swallows hard. "They were caught up in the madness, shouting like the rest. I tried to reach them, to tell them, but they were… consumed by the fear. I don't know what happened to them after that. The mob scattered when they chased us — splintered by their own fury. I pray they weren't among those who followed us here."
I stare at her, stunned. "Your own brothers — the same men we journeyed with — suddenly hate you now and seek to kill me? Shineah… what happened to them?"
Shineah flinches, a fresh wave of pain washing over her as my words land. "They don't hate me, Tormack," she whispers, her voice cracking. "And they don't truly seek to kill you. Not Kael, not Finn. This isn't them. This is… the Master."
She swallows hard, eyes shining with grief. "His corruption, his whispers — they don't just sway the weak‑minded. They prey on fears, on doubts, on loyalties. He twists perception, turns reason into rage. My brothers… they saw what the city saw. A monstrous orc. A chaotic barbarian who destroyed the market, who threatened councilors, who married their sister in a scandal‑ridden affair."
Her gaze drifts to the ashes of our home, then back to me, sorrow etched deep into her features. "They saw it all through the Master's lens of fear. The same fear that let them accuse me of colluding with evil. The same fear that burned our home. They aren't acting as themselves. They're acting as Oakhaven acts right now — terrified, misled, desperate to find a physical enemy for an unseen evil."
She shakes her head slowly, a single tear cutting a clean path through the soot on her cheek. "It happened because the Master made it happen. He turned Oakhaven against itself… and my brothers were just caught in his web, like so many others."
I take a breath, steadying myself. "Do you think we could get them out of the city and talk some sense into them? Or do you think they've fully given themselves over to this dark spirit?"
Shineah looks toward the distant, hazy outline of Oakhaven, sadness softening her whole posture. "Given themselves over?" she repeats, the words trembling. "I don't know, Tormack. That's the insidious thing about the Master. It's not always a choice. Not always a full surrender. It's a creeping darkness — a twisting of fears and loyalties."
She turns back to me, a fragile hope flickering in her eyes. "My brothers are stubborn, but they have good hearts. I want to believe they're misled, not corrupted. If we could get them out of the city — away from his whispers, away from the mob — maybe. Maybe there's a chance."
Her hand drifts to the dagger at her hip, resolve settling over her like armor. "It won't be a conversation of words alone, I fear. But for Kael and Finn… I have to try."
"No," I say gently. "The dark one manipulates gradually. He can't just take someone unwillingly. They have to soil themselves first through their choices before he can claim them. But even then… they can be redeemed."
Shineah's face shifts, the exhaustion of the night giving way to a flicker of fragile, potent relief. "So there's hope," she breathes, barely audible beneath the distant roar of the falls. "They aren't lost to me yet."
She looks at the charred remains of our home, then back at me, a new fire kindling behind her eyes. "And if they can be redeemed… then we must try. We have to find them, Tormack. We have to save them!"
"We can start by getting them out of the mud," I say. "Clean them up. Sober their minds. And once they can think clearly, the choice is theirs — who they will follow."
Shineah nods slowly, absorbing my words, a quiet resolve settling over her features. "Get them out of the mud first… sober them up," she repeats, the idea resonating with her new understanding of the Master's methods. "Yes. That makes sense. We can't force them, but we can offer them clarity — a chance to see beyond the fear and lies."
She glances at the shattered crystal, then back at me, a determined glint in her eyes. "Maybe confronting the Master's influence isn't always done with steel, but with spirit."
She pushes herself to her feet, brushing ash and forest debris from her clothes. "So the plan is to extract Kael and Finn somehow… and try to break the Master's hold on their minds." Her gaze drifts toward the distant, smoke‑tinged skyline of Oakhaven. "But how do we approach them, Tormack? The city believes you're a monster, and I… I'm seen as a traitor. Maybe even in league with the Master. We can't simply walk in."
"I don't even know where your brothers live," I admit. "Or if you have other friends or family in town you want to save. With your status, I'm sure you know quite a few people."
I gesture out in Oakhaven's general direction. "Maybe we camp outside the walls and talk to the people coming and going. Start on the fringes and work our way in. We need to find people who recognize the corruption and actually want the city saved. We need allies we can count on."
I think back to the chaos in the market, the cloaked figures moving like shadows. "Some have already given themselves publicly to the darkness. They wear those black shadow cloaks. But not everyone wears them." My gaze meets Shineah's, searching her face. "Your brothers weren't wearing dark cloaks like that… were they?"
Shineah considers my suggestion, her brow furrowing as she looks toward the distant, smoke‑tinged skyline of Oakhaven. "No," she says firmly as she opens them again. "Kael and Finn weren't wearing the shadow cloaks. They were just… themselves, but twisted by the mob's frenzy. That gives me hope… And you're right... We can't just barge in. Not now." She closes her eyes, the memory of the market flashing behind them. "
She looks back toward the city, a flicker of her old tactical sharpness returning. "Approaching the fringes, talking to people… That would work, except my brothers— they don't leave town much. Kael is a stonemason. Most of the stone he works on comes to him, he isn't a quarryman. And Finn, he is a baker… They usually keep to their routines."
"If your brothers truly care for you," I say, "they may be searching for you already." I say, trying to reassure her. "Maybe if we just wait here long enough, they will come to us."
Shineah shakes her head, "No, I don't want to wait that long. The Master already has their minds all twisted up as it is. I'm afraid waiting longer will only make things worse. We have to go to them."Shineah then fumbles through her purse and pulls out a key. "As a city council woman, I have a gate key, perhaps we can slip in at night."
We spend the day fishing, cooking and trying to improve upon our meager homestead while we try to think about what we are going to tell Kael and Finn. Then, as the sun begins to set for the evening, we head out.
The river murmurs beside us as we follow its winding path toward Oakhaven. The forest is thick here, the branches knitted overhead like a roof, blocking out most of the blue moonlight, leaving us in darkness.
As we strain to see our way through the rocky terrain, I lift my axe and brush my thumb along the handle. The familiar flame blooms along the blade — steady, warm, alive. Shineah walks close, and that's when I notice her arms wrapped around herself against the chill night air.
I angle the axe toward her. "You can hold onto it with me if you like. It's perfectly safe."
She hesitates, eyes flicking between the flame and my face. "Is it some kind of magic axe?"
I shake my head. "It's not the axe." I let the flame in my axe go out and raise my free hand, letting a small flame gather on my fingertips, soft and controlled. In that moment all the world around us fades to black and it feels as though it is just us. "Don't worry. It'll only burn you if you're evil."
Her eyebrows lift at that, unsure whether I'm joking.
I extend my hand toward her, the little flame dancing there. "You can touch it, it's alright."
Shineah reaches out slowly, her fingers hovering over the flame on my hand. She's cautious, but she's not afraid — just unsure of what the fire will do. Slowly, she touches it, the flame bending around her skin, warm and soft. Her breath catches.
I lift my hand a little higher, offering it to her. She hesitates only a moment before placing her palm against mine. Her fingers press up to mine, and the flame responds instantly, growing stronger and brighter, curling around her hand in a thin ribbon of light.
She stares at it, eyes wide, but she doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans in closer, watching the flame learn the shape of her hand.
"It's warm," she whispers. "But it doesn't hurt."
"It is part of my spirit and it knows that you are a part of me," I say quietly.
Her eyes flick up to mine at that — not startled, just… softened.
When she finally lets go, the flame doesn't leave her right away. It lingers on her skin, clinging to her like it doesn't want to let go, but slowly it fades, leaving her hand glowing faintly in the moonlight.
She looks down at her fingers, then back at me, and there's a warmth in her expression that wasn't there before — a closeness, a shared breath in the dark.
My gaze shifts from her hand to her eyes, lingering.… then drifts to her lips. The way they part just slightly, like she's about to say something else. Like she's thinking about leaning in. The flame on my axe flickers with the thought, as if it feels the pull too.
Shineah notices. Her breath catches again — not from the fire this time — and she looks away quickly, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she steps back into the path, refocusing on the task at hand.
"There'll be a guard at the gate," she says, her voice steadier than her heartbeat sounds.
Just like that, the world widens again — Charlie and Grizz walking nearby, the river, the trees, the danger waiting ahead — and a sudden chill in the air. I shrug, feeling somewhat defeated. "I know."
I lift my axe allowing a soft flame to crawl up the handle once more, pushing back the shadows.
We continue our walk, the river guiding us, the moon watching. Shineah glances at the bears, then at me. "We need a plan. If a guard sees the bears, they'll call for backup before we can say a word."
"Yeah," I sigh and nod to Charlie and Grizz. "Getting these two to 'stay' isn't exactly their strong suit."
Charlie snorts as if to prove my point.
Shineah chews her lip. "Maybe… maybe I could go ahead first. Cry for help. Say something chased us out of the woods. Get him close and distracted."
I nod slowly. "How likely do you think the guard heard about, or was part of the mob that burnt our house?"
I raise my free hand, letting a small flame flicker to life in my palm. It dances up my arm, curling around my shoulders like a living shawl. I hunch my posture, twist my neck, and let my voice drop into a hollow moan.
"You burned my house… you burned ME… HOW DARE YOU!"
There is something different about my flames now causing Shineah to recoil.
The flames vanish as I smile and nudge her shoulder. "Just an idea."
She exhales shakily, trying to glare but failing. "I think that would attract too much attention…" Her look lingers, but with curiosity this time. "How do you do that anyway?"
My playful smile fades into something softer. "It's a gift from God," I say quietly. "One day I'll tell you the whole story. But for now… just know it is like an extension of my spirit..."
She looks at me for a long moment, the moonlight highlighting the wonder in her eyes.
We walk on, the gate still far ahead, our plan half‑formed and fragile. But the river keeps flowing, and the light from my axe keeps the darkness at bay.
Eventually, the river falls behind us, replaced by the stillness that settles near the city's edge. The flame has been burning a long time now, and the strain of holding it tugs at my limbs — a slow, familiar exhaustion I try not to show, but Shineah sees it.
I find a fallen log to sit on and rest, letting the flame go out in the presence of the moonlight. My limbs feel weak and shaky, something I wasn't planning on. This could be a problem should we get caught, but I try not to think about it.
Shineah watches me, worry flickering across her face, wondering if we can still do this. I meet her eyes, steady. I hold up my hand. "I'm fine, just give me a moment."
Just sitting on the log isn't good enough. I slip down onto the bare ground and lie there, raising my feet and letting the strength return little by little. Eventually, the worst of the fatigue lifts, and I push myself back to my feet.
Shineah draws a slow breath, then answers firmly. "All right. Stick to the shadows, be careful!"
"Not really my barbarian style," I grunt, trying to show more strength than I have. "But I'll do what I can."
As we approach Oakhaven, we find a guard standing alert at the southern gate, but Shineah leads us around to the locked eastern gate, which fortunately for us, doesn't currently have a guard watching over it. Shineah pulls out her key and we slip in. The gate groans as it opens, a long, low sound that seems far too loud in the stillness. We freeze, breath held, listening for any sign of danger, but none comes.
We move like wraiths through the deserted outer streets. The city's fear has thinned its watch; no alarm rises as we weave through alleys that should feel familiar but instead feel hollow and wrong. The usual evening sounds — laughter, music, the clatter of artisans — have been swallowed by an unsettling hush. Only the wind whispers, carrying the distant cries of night creatures.
Shineah leads us through a maze of narrow cobblestone streets, her steps quick and purposeful, until we reach a small two‑story dwelling tucked between a silent bakery and a dark stonemason's workshop. Kael and Finn's home.
It is completely dark. No lantern glow. No movement.
Shineah raps softly on the door. Then again, a little louder. A long, agonizing silence stretches. My heartbeat feels too loud in the stillness. Then — a faint shuffling inside.
The door cracks open, revealing a sliver of darkness. Kael's face appears, pale and drawn, eyes wide with suspicion and something that could be fear… or anger. He grips a rusty hammer. His gaze lands on Shineah — then snaps to me, towering behind her."Shineah? What… what are you doing here?" he rasps, terror and accusation tangled in his voice.
Finn appears behind him, clutching a heavy rolling pin like a club. Recognition flickers in both their eyes — but it's quickly smothered by the memory of the mob's frenzy, twisting their features into masks of distrust.
Shineah steps forward, gently pushing the door wider. Her voice is soft but firm, a stark contrast to the fear tightening their grips. "Kael, Finn… it's me. Don't be afraid. We need to talk — truly talk — away from… from him." Her gaze flicks toward the street, toward the unseen influence that has poisoned the city. "I know what you saw. What you heard. I know what they're saying about Tormack. About me." She lifts her hand, palm up — a gesture of peace. "But that was fear, brothers. That was the Master's poison twisting your minds, just as it twisted the city's. Tormack is here to help, not harm. We risked everything to come here — to find you, to warn you."
Kael's knuckles whiten around his hammer. His eyes dart between her earnest face and my silent, imposing form. Finn lowers the rolling pin a fraction, recognition fighting its way through the terror. "Warn us?" Kael croaks. "Warn us of what, Shineah? The entire city saw… what he did. They said you married him to bring him in — to finish what he started!" His voice cracks under the weight of confusion and fear. "Why are you with him? He burned the market! He attacked Master Borin!" The accusations spill out in a torrent — not from hatred, but from fear, from indoctrinated belief, from the same frenzy that nearly tore the city apart.
Shineah steps closer, her voice dropping to an urgent, almost pleading tone. "Kael, Finn, you saw what the Master did in the market. The shadow, the way he turned Oakhaven against itself! Tormack didn't burn the market, that was the Master's dark ritual trying to consume the city's heart! And Master Borin was never attacked; that was my own foolish mistake, drawing a sword in frustration, which the Master twisted into something sinister!"
She reaches out, her hand resting gently on Kael's arm. "Think, brothers! Tormack saved Master Arion, he cleansed the sanctum, he fought the shadow in the market! He is here, now, risking his life, not for power, but because Oakhaven, and all of us in it, are under a grave threat! The Master wants you to believe these lies, to turn on your own, to make you weak and divided so he can consume you!"
Kael's eyes dart between Shineah's earnest gaze and my silent form, his grip on the hammer still tight, but a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Finn, behind him, lowers the rolling pin completely, his gaze lost in thought. "But… but everyone said," Kael begins, his voice less accusatory now, more confused, "Master Arion himself spoke of a great evil unleashed. If Tormack… if he wasn't the cause, then what is happening, Shineah?" The sheer terror in him begins to recede, replaced by a dawning, terrifying doubt in the narrative they've been fed.
I cough, trying to suppress a smile. "Well… actually, I did burn the market. It's a long story, but I'm not an enemy."
Shineah shoots me a quick, exasperated glance at my admission, but her resolve doesn't waver as she turns back to her brothers. "He did burn it, Kael, but not with malice, and not with mundane fire. It was a cleansing fire — a spiritual fire — meant to purge the corruption the Master had sown there. Tormack has a connection to divine power, a purity of spirit that allows him to literally burn away evil where it manifests. It was the Master's cultists who were performing the ritual, who were turning the market into a vile altar, not Tormack. He stopped them." She pauses, letting the weight of that sink in. "Master Arion, Elara's mentor, can corroborate all of this. He was there. He witnessed it. He was once under the Master's influence himself, and Tormack's power freed him."
Her voice softens as she sees the confusion still etched on their faces, the lingering hurt in their eyes. "I'm sorry you were not invited to my wedding. It was a private ceremony at Tormack's home in the Whisperwood, witnessed only by Master Arion and Tormack's bears. It was done quickly, out of urgency, and out of a desperate need to find strength and clarity in a world consumed by shadow. I know the city gossiped. I know they said it was a ploy. But it was a bond we forged in purpose and in love, not politics."
Kael and Finn exchange a long, heavy look. The hammer and rolling pin hang loosely now, their stances no longer aggressive but bewildered. The mention of Master Arion — a respected scholar — clearly gives them pause.
Finn speaks first, his voice quiet. "A divine fire… the Master's cultists… and Arion was there? We heard Master Arion was recovered, but… the details were vague. They said it was a miracle, but not how." Kael shakes his head, a weary sigh escaping him. "And you… you really married him? Not for Oakhaven? Just for… for you?" His question is laced with disbelief and a flicker of longing for the sister he remembers — the one he fears he's already lost.
Shineah steps fully into the doorway, her voice quiet yet resolute. "Yes, Finn. Just for me. And for him. Because we believe in something greater than fear — greater than the whispers that have poisoned Oakhaven." She turns to Kael, her eyes unwavering. "The Master seeks to consume everything, to turn every heart toward despair and division. That's why he twisted what happened in the market, why he turned you all against us. He needs Oakhaven broken so he can claim it fully."
Kael lets out a shaky breath, his grip loosening on the rolling pin. Finally he relents and waves for us to come inside.. Finn drags a hand over his face, looking utterly lost. "So… so what do we do, Shineah? If everyone's infected… if the Master is everywhere… how can we fight it?" His voice trembles with terror, but beneath it I hear the first spark of defiance. "We can't just… just pretend it's not happening."
A long silence settles over the doorway, broken only by the distant, muted sounds of the city at night. Their fear hasn't vanished, but it's shifted — no longer aimed at me, but at the insidious force gripping their home. They look at Shineah, then hesitantly at me, a silent plea for guidance in their eyes. They're not ready to take up arms against what's consuming the city… not yet, but the seed of belief has been planted, and the hostility that once barred the door between us has dissolved.
I take a long breath, letting the silence settle, and something deeper fills me — a clarity that isn't mine alone. When I speak, the words come steady and sure. "Your calling right now is not to violence, but to love and devotion. Just as the enemy has those who wear dark cloaks to mark the ones he's claimed, you must go out of your way to reject the darkness and dedicate yourselves — and your homes — as vessels of holiness. Pray. Worship. If you do this, the spirit of the enemy will not see you as recruits. But I warn you… those under his power will see you as enemies. Doing this will paint a target on your back."
I look from Kael to Finn, letting the weight of my words rest on them. "So tell me — what will you do to mark your homes and your lives, to show your devotion to God? That is the first step. The next, if you truly want to save Oakhaven, you need to influence those around you to do the same."
Kael and Finn stand silent, caught in a dazed awe. My words hang in the air, cutting through the noise and lies that had been pressing down on them. Finn glances around his small home, then back at me, a tentative light growing in his eyes. Kael swallows, his stonemason hands — so ready to fight moments ago — now hanging loose at his sides. My words appear to have to slipped past their reason and reach something deeper. Of all the things I could have said, they weren't expecting something so… religious.
I watch Finn's lips move silently as he tries to make sense of it. *Why would a monster say that?* he seems to think.
I'm getting the impression they still don't like me, and they definitely don't approve of our marriage — but at least they no longer want to kill me..
A deep, pensive silence settles over the room, heavy with the weight of what I've asked of them. Kael shifts uneasily, glancing at the doorway as if expecting the Master's shadow to slip beneath it. "Mark our home?" he echoes, voice thin. "With… what? What kind of sign?"
I meet his eyes. "Something unmistakable. Something that declares who you belong to. The enemy marks his followers with cloaks and shadows. You must mark yourselves with devotion — a sign that cannot be mistaken for fear or neutrality."
Kael swallows hard, his gaze flicking toward the lintel above the door. "A sign on the house," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Like… like the old stories. The ones Mother used to tell."
But the thought clearly terrifies Finn. His hands tremble. "If we do that… everyone will know. The neighbors. The guard. The Master's eyes." He shakes his head, voice cracking. "We're not warriors, Shineah. We're not prophets. We're just… us."
I step forward, my voice trying to contain the urgency.. "Letting people know is kind of the point. It is the only way to save Oakhaven. All that evil needs to succeed is for good men to stand by and do nothing!"
They don't answer. I can see it in their eyes — the war between what they know and what they're willing to risk.
I pause to let that sink in before continuing. "We don't expect you to be warriors, or prophets. When ordinary folk are willing to take a stand, that is a powerful thing. Do you think most of those cultists are warriors? No. They are ordinary folk. And so long as they think no one is there to oppose them, their assaults will continue — and they will get worse."
Kael looks away. Finn frowns, but no words come.
Shineah's hand lingers on my arm, but her eyes stay locked on her brothers. "You don't have to decide tonight," she says, her voice low. "But you do have to decide. The Master isn't waiting. Neither should you."
My head turns sharply to Shineah, offended at the thought of her suggesting that they wait a second longer. But looking at Kael and Finn, I can tell that they don't trust me enough to be motivated enough to do anything. I shake my head. *We can't save those who don't want to be saved and these two it seems can barely even fathom what they are up against. They are drinking a slow poison and don't even recognize it.*
I let out a deep sigh. "Kael, Finn… When things get worse and you are ready for change, you know where to find us…" I shake their hands and step outside.
Outside, the night air is thick with silence. Charlie and Grizz wait in the shadows near the alley, their hulking forms barely visible in the moonlight. They've been patient, alert, their presence a quiet comfort — and a constant reminder that we don't belong here. Not for long.
Shineah glances back at her brothers, her expression unreadable as she gives them a departing wave.
Kael gives a stiff nod. Finn doesn't speak.
As we slip into the alley, I start walking back the way we came, but Shineah stops me. "My old house isn't too far from here — I still have things there, we could use some supplies."
I nod, and look hesitantly towards Charlie and Grizz, hoping they don't blow our cover, but follow anyway. We move carefully, keeping to the shadows, ducking behind carts and hugging alley walls, every footstep measured. There is a kind of thrill to it that is actually kind of fun. Nonetheless, my hand never leaves my axe. This could turn bad on us really quick.
Her house is a narrow stone house built into a row, pressed tightly between its neighbors — modest, tidy, and respectable. Charlie and Grizz immediately nose their way into a nearby garden, trampling herbs and feasting on vegetables. Shineah hisses their names, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. When they ignore her completely, she shoots me a look to do something.
I shake my head and raise my eyebrows. "You think I could stop them if I wanted to? It is a lost cause."
Her eyes narrow on them. "That is certainly not winning us any allies!"
I shrug, not knowing what to do about it.
She shakes her head and hurries to the door, pulling a key from her purse to unlock it. Inside, everything is neat and carefully arranged — far cleaner and more refined than anything I'm used to. A row of painted dishes sits on a shelf, delicate enough that I don't dare touch them.
Shineah moves quickly, gathering what we need: a sack of dried lentils, a few blankets, a tin of salt, dried herbs and spices, a battered iron pot, a handful of silverware. She then adds some additional changes of clothes, a warm shawl and a bundle of feminine necessities for an extended stay in the woods. I take the frying pan from its hook and wrap it tightly in her spare clothes so it won't clatter on the walk back.
We work in silence, each of us tying our own blanket into a makeshift bag — hers smaller and neater, mine bulky and uneven with the heavier things.
"We look like burglars in my own home," Shineah mutters, cheeks coloring as she eyes the two lumpy bundles.
She pauses in the center of the room, gaze drifting to the peg by the door where her council robes hang. They're just as she left them — neatly pressed, waiting. She doesn't touch them, but her eyes linger long enough to make something tighten in my chest.
Then she nods, shoulders squaring, and we slip back into the night.
By the time we reach the tree line, the first hints of dawn brush the horizon. The Whisperwood rises before us, dark and familiar. We don't speak. There's nothing left to say.
We return to our home — to our sanctuary — to watch, to pray, and to prepare.