The rain became heavier, penetrating even the dense foliage, wetting the werewolf’s fur. It slowly stalked toward them, the ground squelching under its feet.

“Alright, that’s enough. You can talk from that spot.”

The werewolf stopped thirty feet away with its arms crossed. It stared at the duo, its eyes wide. Arri and Art were standing on his shoulder, rubbing against its furry face.

“Why did you ask us out at this hour?” Roy was aiming at the cursed one.

“I mean you no harm, so don’t pull that trigger. I don’t mind you hurting me, but if these two get shot, this talk will be over.”

“Oh, trust me when I say I shoot well. They won’t get hurt. Not one bit.”

“Very well, then.” The werewolf looked at Letho, though Letho was just observing it in silence. “You realized what I was when we were in the valley, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We thought you were in Shire, but we never expected you to be in the caravan with us.”

The werewolf stared down and let out a sigh. “I knew those bastards would be trouble.” Then it looked up at the duo with pleading eyes. “But I had no choice. The troupe is my home, and the members are my family. I can’t let them get hurt, so I got rid of the source of the problem.” It licked its claws. “Do you think I was wrong?”

“No,” Letho answered. “They were just bandits anyway. Probably killed more than a couple of humans. They weren’t innocent. I would’ve done the same if you hadn’t done it first.”

The werewolf chuckled. “I knew you’d understand. Your kind does the same thing, right?”

Letho didn’t answer, though his silence was an answer in itself. He was already eighty, after all. There must’ve been blood on his hands, and some of it had to belong to innocents. Killing some bandits would be a piece of cake for him.

The werewolf knew it’d hit the spot, so it continued. “I might’ve turned into a monster, but as you can see, my mind is still my own, and I’ve never killed any innocent people.” Its voice started trembling. “But are you going to kill me anyway?”

Roy thought about it for a moment and stared back into Alan’s eyes. “We aren’t saints, and you aren’t a mindless monster. We wouldn’t even have come if you hadn’t lured us in. We’ll just keep this up until we get to Ellander, and that’s it.”

“Can you keep this a secret, then?” Alan put his hands together in a prayer, though it looked funny. “The members are my family, but they’re just human. Most can’t accept werewolves, so please keep this a secret from them.”

“How would you know if you don’t talk it out?” Roy eased up and put his weapon down. He couldn’t bring himself to hate the cursed one who was pleading for the sake of his friends. “But sooner or later, the cat’s gonna get out of the bag. You can’t hide it forever.”

“Just keep it a secret until then. Besides, we’ve been working together for years. Some of them know something’s up, but they never expose me.” Alan looked crestfallen, so his birds pecked at him to cheer him up.

“Why do you trust us?” Letho suddenly asked.

Alan made his best attempt to frown, and then he smiled bitterly. “I tried to ask witchers and sorcerers for help after turning into this, but they either ended up trying to kill me or making me an experimental subject. No one would help. The two of you look like level-headed, reasonable people, and you heard me out. I figured I could take this bet.”

Yeah, he’s just out of options, Roy thought.

“How did you become a werewolf then? And those birds of yours used to be humans, right?”

Alan paused for a moment to think about if he should tell the duo about his past, but finally, he resolved himself to do it. “This is the Cult of the Lionheaded Spider’s doing.” Alan paced back and forth in frustration, recalling a painful memory. “This is a curse from that cult’s priestess. I turned into a werewolf, my children became birds, but my wife had it the worst. She became a frog.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Roy wasn’t sure how to process that. The frog prince reversed? Man, I know he’s complex, but that’s out there, even for us. 

Roy had read about the Cult of the Lionheaded Spider though. It was one of the many evil cults on the continent. They’d sacrifice live people to appease their cruel god. Their emblem was a lionheaded spider on a web, and their priestesses all possessed powerful curses.

“I see. No wonder Eveline said you were searching for your true love. It’s because you guys are cursed.”

“I’m not exactly a smart guy, and I can’t ask anyone for help,” he said. “But I found some inspiration from fairy tales. They say true love can break all curses. I think the curse can be lifted if I find someone who loves me and my kids.”

Roy was surprised that Eveline hadn’t been making things up. So he’s actually searching for true love. “What about your actual wife, then?”

“Poor Sheena. She left us three years ago. Couldn’t take it anymore.” That memory brought nothing but pain. The gleam in his eyes was snuffed out, and his snout hung open.

Art and Arri started cawing and cooing too, as if trying to mourn. Roy knew he shouldn’t laugh, but it looked amusing and sad at the same time. He asked Letho, “Can you help him?”

Letho was surprised, though he turned to Alan. “Killing monsters isn’t all a witcher can do. We know how to lift curses too, though only to an extent. We might be of some help if you would tell us your story in detail.”

“I-is that true? You can lift the curse, Letho?”

“No guarantees, but I can probably point you in the right direction.”