For what seemed like an eternity, he and the wolves feinted, thrusted, and tried to exploit an opening. The wolves cooperated with uncanny precision, like men who’d fought beside each other for years; it was all Androkles could do not to get beset by three at once each time they charged him.

The boys screamed again, and Androkles spared a glance to see that a fifth wolf had grabbed Flower through the blanket and started to drag him off, leaving Pepper huddled on empty dirt. With Flower concealed by the blanket, Androkles couldn’t tell what part of him the wolf had grabbed, but he hoped it wasn’t the boy’s neck. Flower kept thrashing, so he was still alive, at least.

For a brief moment, Androkles felt panic rising in him; if he ran to rescue Flower, the others would drag Pepper off, or attack him from behind. Sensing a loss of focus, he took a deep breath to calm down. Then he remembered that dogs chased their prey; as long as he had his back turned, they would leave Pepper alone. Or, he hoped that was the case, anyway. He pivoted and ran to Flower as fast as his legs could carry him.

The wolves gave chase, but before they caught him, Androkles had just enough time to swing at the one holding Flower. The wolf saw him coming and let go, trying to back away, but Androkles was too quick. Putting some muscle into the swing, Androkles cleaved its skull open. He’d been aiming for its neck, but it worked. He spun and swung his fist, catching another wolf on the side of the jaw and knocking it away, but the remaining three latched on to him and tried to pull him down. One got his ankle and the other two, miraculously, got his skirt.

They pulled him in three different directions, which barely allowed him to keep his balance. Thinking quickly, he reached behind himself and yanked the knot that held his skirt up. It came loose, and the wolves fought over it, shaking it in their teeth. Androkles stabbed the one that had his ankle, then kicked forward to yank himself free. His skin tore, but he had no time to stop. A scream burst from deep in his chest, and he leaped forward, swinging his xiphos wildly. He was able to catch them several times with nicks and cuts, but never deeply. They were too wily to face at the same time.

A ridiculous idea entered his mind, and he turned away from them to run again. But this time, he listened carefully for their approach and when he thought them close enough, he spun with the xiphos. He managed to split one’s belly open and bury the point between the ribs of another before the third wolf leaped up and bit at his chest.

Instinctively, Androkles flexed, and the wolf couldn’t open its maw widely enough to sink its teeth in. Androkles grabbed it by the neck and cut its stomach out, then tossed it aside, panting and relieved.

After seeing that both boys were still there, Androkles paced around looking behind everything he felt might hide another wolf, but was soon satisfied there were none left. Only then did he set down his xiphos and tend to the boys.

Flower lay rigid where the wolf had dropped him, paralyzed with fear. Androkles gently picked him up, blanket and all, and moved him back to the fire. He rearranged the blanket, which had miraculously avoided being bled on, then lay the boys back on it. Judging from the bruises, Flower had been gripped by the shoulder, and after inspecting the movement of the joint, Androkles decided nothing had been damaged.

He stood and looked at them as they trembled, unable to move from fright and stress. That wouldn’t do. With a sigh, he sat back down and gathered them onto his lap and hugged them gently.

“Boys, nothing can take you while I’m alive. Nothing. It’s okay,” he said, and repeated, speaking softly to soothe them. They sat with their heads buried in his beard, gripping him tightly, and after a time, they seemed back to normal.

The wolves were too thin to even bother butchering, so he picked them up and tossed them where he’d tossed the sick one from yesterday to bury later. He walked back with a scowl, wondering if this was going to become a daily occurrence. Did wolves migrate? He didn’t think so, but there had been an awful lot of them around lately. Perhaps those soldiers were right, and he really wasn’t safe here. He paused and listened carefully for the sound of howling; at the moment, he heard nothing. Hardly a sound, not even wind. Just a few birds, and the stream.

The rest of the day was rather dull. Androkles spent much of it burying the wolves and covering the blood, just in case. Near nightfall, he regaled the boys with more tales from the army, talking about some of his old friends and their virtues. Apparently, being terrified at any point in the day was exhausting, because the boys both fell asleep halfway through a story. He built the fire to last the night, then lay down beside them. Sleep, however, did not come easily. He listened long into the night for wolves, never hearing them.

* * *

The next morning, the boys waited for him to wake before making water so they could all do it together, but they didn’t need his help this time. Flower, especially, was beginning to more or less behave like a boy, making jokes and bouncing around and such, although he got tired easily and had to rest every few minutes. Pepper spent much of the time sitting up without difficulty. His swollen stomach was flattening as the rest of him filled out, and the swelling in his feet was gone. Although he had not yet made soil and was therefore still at risk, Androkles had a feeling the boy would be fine. With luck, they would even be ready to travel soon. The gods knew he was eager to get on the road.

Once the air warmed up, Androkles took them to bathe in the stream. It was too cold for the boys to jump in, skinny as they were, so they washed with rags standing in the shallowest parts, shivering and laughing all the while. Afterward, he made new bandages for himself and Pepper; Flower didn’t need any anymore, since his bruises were fading and his scratches all but gone. The mace wound on Androkles’s side had turned a deep purple in a bruise larger than his head, and the cut where the flesh had torn open was still leaking, although not as much. The cut under his ribs had mostly closed, and was only a little red. The bite on his thigh was closing up and somehow did not appear to be swelling with pus like he’d expected. The red salve truly was the best. Pepper’s ankle cuts had mostly closed up, but they were still swollen and painful.

Breakfast for the boys was honeyed young wine again, but this time Androkles gave Flower a biscuit to soak and eat slowly. He was able to keep it down, and later that day, he got another. Androkles gave both boys half again as much to eat as the day before so they could start to put on some weight, and plenty of water.

After tending to the boys, Androkles did his exercises again while Flower tried to figure out how the sling worked. He eventually managed, even though it was far too long for him and kept scuffing on the ground when he tried to swing it vertically. The boy’s swing had no power or accuracy, of course, but the little Skythander cheered with unabashed pride when he finally managed to hit a tree with a rock. Pepper cheered for him as well, impressed and clearly jealous that he couldn’t participate because Androkles wouldn’t let him.

In the afternoon, Androkles made a final attempt to find the silver. Flower could not be kept away, and he had to double-check every bag after Androkles, just to see what was inside. He began trying to pick up the pots and shake them, but they were too heavy for him. Androkles warned, “You drop one of those, and you’ll taste the back of my hand, got it?” The kit made no more attempts.

But that gave Androkles an idea he hadn’t considered before. Testing the weight of each pot in turn, he found one heavier than the others, so he unsealed it. Unfortunately, it only contained olive oil, and if he held it in the sunlight he could even see the bottom of the pot. Flower climbed up on the wheel of the cart to peer over his shoulder and look as well. Androkles showed it to him, since there was nothing to see. Flower peered in for a moment, then said, “Why is the bottom a different color?”

Androkles briskly replied, “It’s not a different color. It’s just from the oil.” He was about to set it aside but decided to look again. The bottom did seem lighter. And uneven. Androkles pulled out his xiphos and wiped it clean, then stuck it into the oil to poke the bottom of the pot. It was soft. It was nothing but clay, and beneath it was the silver.

He grinned wickedly, then grabbed a few leftover squares of cloth to put the silver on while he counted it. He sat down by the fire, tore away the soft clay and threw it aside, and began pulling the silver out in small handfuls. The oil on the coins made them slippery, causing it to take longer than it should have. And since it would be a waste to pour it out, he decided to leave the oil in the pot, which resulted in him making a huge mess. The boys stood over his shoulders, trying to ensure they got the best view possible. Flower in particular was beside himself, bouncing around somewhat like a squirrel. For a few minutes, anyway. He soon wore out and sat down, looking exhausted.

Each handful had a mix of silver, copper, and sometimes gold. Androkles separated them out, and once he had pulled it all out of the pot, he started counting the copper first. Forty-eight five-pieces, one hundred and fourteen coppers, exactly two hundred silvers, six golds, and two four-weight golds. That was close to six hundred silver, in all. It was an impressive haul. A tenth of a talent. It was enough to buy everything in the cart several times over. Almost two years’ wages for a soldier, and soldiers made good money.

“That’s so much silver!” exclaimed Flower, childish greed obvious in his expression. “What are you going to do with it?”

Androkles said, “Not giving any to you, first of all.”

The kits both tried unsuccessfully to hide their disappointment.

“I’ve got an oath to Arkos to keep, and this is all going to that. And some to keep you alive, if necessary.”

“Arkos? Who is that?” interrupted Pepper.

Androkles started putting the coins back into the pot for safe-keeping, but then he decided to make change of his four-weight gold right then, putting it in the pot and keeping one hundred of the silvers, which he put in his coin purse. “Arkos Oathfather. That’s my patron god, from my home City Dikaia. He’s master over just dealings and the ruler of all the gods. He says to give every man his due and all that. But don’t worry about it right now. All you need to know is that we have to be very, very careful, or bandits like Theodoric and Pansy and that lot will be after us like starving dogs after a rack of lamb. Skinny little things like you …”

He was about to say ‘will be cut down and left for the crows,’ which was true, but maybe the boys didn’t need to hear it. “Skinny little things like you need to stick with me, and I’ll keep you safe. But you do what I say. Got it?”

“Yes, Master Androkles,” they promised in unison.

“Boys, I’m not kidding about this. Look at me,” said Androkles in his serious voice. They settled down and looked at him. “We don’t know who’s going to come down the road next. Could be anyone. And the thing is, everyone who sees this cart will suspect there’s silver here, but they won’t know how much. Most folks are probably harmless, but you never know which ones aren’t. Some people seem nice, but they’re bandits anyway, like Theodoric. If someone like him came around with his friends, and they found out there’s several hundred silver in that pot over there, they’d try to kill us for it. I might be the toughest old soldier alive, but you aren’t. And I’m not strong when I’m asleep, or when my back is turned. Got it? You can’t tell anyone about this. You can’t say a single word. If anyone asks, say you never heard of any silver. Even if they threaten to hurt you. The wrong kind of people find out about it, and there’ll be blood on the ground for the Hewer, and some of it might be yours.”

“Yes, Master Androkles,” they repeated, a bit more convincingly this time. Pepper hung his head, bony shoulders sticking out and making him look like he was a puzzle with all the pieces jumbled together. He had his tail curled over his lap, sort of like he was trying to give himself a hug. Flower looked paler than usual, somehow, and was staring off down the road with clear apprehension, all previous exuberance gone.

Androkles sighed and rose to his feet. “But you kits have nothing to worry about if you do what I tell you. You’ll be safer than a rock in the dirt.” They didn’t seem particularly convinced. Androkles checked on the kits’ wine, which was getting low, so he added more, and a bit more honey. He started feeling a bit guilty about giving them such a lecture and ruining their spirits, brittle as they were.

After thinking for a moment, he knew what he needed to do. The boys had had enough of terror, he decided. They could use a little joy. His old mentor Diokles would have done something like this, if he’d been alive.

“Come here, Flower. You stir this.”

Flower complied, anxiously grabbing the spoon with both hands. “Why me? Are you going somewhere?” the kit asked, tail twitching behind him.

“Nope. I’m going to make a couple of boy-sized slings.” Androkles replied, fetching the rest of the hemp twine.

The boys noticeably cheered at the news, their ears perking up and tails whipping behind them. Flower gave his best to stirring, and Pepper’s dreary demeanor vanished. “For us?” he ventured to ask.

“Of course they’re for you. Who else would they be for?” Androkles said.

“Thank you, Master Androkles,” said Pepper excitedly.

“Thank you,” echoed Flower. As he stirred, he banged constantly on the sides of the pot as though more energy improved the task.

“Stand up,” Androkles told Pepper, who immediately complied. Androkles measured from the top of the kit’s shoulder to the middle of his thigh, which was the proper length for a sling. “That’s good. You can sit back down. Now you,” he told Flower. Once he had the lengths, which were exactly the same, he sat down and began braiding the slings. While he did so, he supervised Flower in filling up mugs for him and Pepper, and he gave Flower a biscuit to soak.

As the afternoon progressed, a series of armored soldiers like before came riding through, but when they saw that Androkles was alive and in good order, they moved on without stopping. And before he was done with the slings, the boys mysteriously took a nap, despite their enthusiasm. He appreciated the rare peace. And looking at them, he couldn’t help but be impressed at how deeply they slept, as though they were somehow deadly serious about it. When a soldier was asleep, he just looked like a man with his eyes shut. These boys, though, slept so intently it seemed they were in another world. Were all nine-year-olds like that, or just these ones? Or maybe just Skythanders? Della had been like that, sometimes. Late mornings when the sun shone in the window onto her hair, lighting it up like some part of Theullos Sun-lord’s glory got stuck there. Watching the kits sleep, he could see how a man might grow fond of his children and start feeling paternal.

Once the slings were complete, he stood and tested one by slinging a rock at a tree. It hit with a loud whack, which startled the boys so much that they nearly jumped off the blanket, but once awake, they were pleased to see their new weapons. They had to immediately try them out, of course. Flower could manage on his own, more or less, and Androkles let Pepper try as well. He did alright even though he got dizzy and fell over once or twice. He would not be defeated, however, and he finally managed to launch a rock into the very close proximity of a tree before Androkles made him lie back down. Flower managed a couple grazing hits before he started looking unsteady, and was also told to lie down for a while.

Androkles prepared some broth with cabbage and garlic and onions, making proper soup, excluding only the salt, since salt could kill a starving person and Pepper was still a question. He chopped it all as small as he could manage and added a bit of the wheat flour to make it thicker. The kits stuffed themselves on it for the rest of the evening.

As dusk approached, a chill wind picked up and began shaking the yellow leaves from the white-barked trees, which blew across the dirt road like ocean waves. The boys huddled together under the blanket and sat in front of the fire to keep warm, and Androkles tossed a travel blanket over them to keep the wind off. When he noticed that they kept grabbing the tips of their ears to warm them up, he readjusted the second blanket so it covered their heads.

When night arrived, it crept in with a deep chill. They could see their breath, and Androkles wondered if a storm was on its way, or if perhaps some northern ice-spirit was simply passing by. If a storm was indeed coming, that could mean serious trouble, since the kits were still far too skinny to keep warm on their own, and Pepper was still in danger. Even simply riding in the cart, the rigors of travel might be too much for him.

Androkles realized, right before he nodded off, that he was probably going to have to pull the cart himself, no matter the outcome of the coming days. Lovely.