Gase dragged his teeth along the bone, pulling the last bits of bloody meat from the rib before throwing it into the fire. The beast meat was tough and stringy and hadn't been cooked evenly but, for the first time in days, there was enough. Enough that he didn't immediately wish for more. Enough that they wouldn't have to worry about food for a day or two.

He sat back and looked over at the rest of the ribs as they slowly cooked. They had copied what they had seen from the other hunters, guards and mercenaries. A fire burned to the side, one that they kept feeding. As the wood burnt out, they pushed the coals over to one side. It was this bed of coals they used to cook their food.

The slab of ribs faced the heat, propped up by a branch stuck into the ground. Over the glowing coals, themselves were a few green-wood branches that were supported at the ends by stacked rocks. These branches were laden with skewered meat. The entire setup looked a bit rickety, but it was the best they could do with what they had. And, most importantly; it worked. Some of the pieces were nearly charred while others were still bloody, but that was mostly due to the different sizes of the portions.

Cutting the meat loose from the bones had been a challenge in and of itself, as they only had a sword and the head of a spear to work with. Still, they had managed. As well as they could anyway. Quite a bit of meat was still left on the bones when they were done, but they were able to trade that with some people in exchange for helping them gather enough firewood, so at least it wasn't wasted.

They actually had to turn down a few people once more realised they were trading food, such as it were, for firewood. Not that he was surprised. A day ago, he would have leapt at the chance himself.

On the other side of the camp, a line had already formed where the priests and their people were busy preparing the beasts they had managed to get. Half of the people in the camp stood in that line. Gase wondered if all of them would actually get something to eat. At the very least what they did get would be less than the previous time.

"Could have used a bit of variety," Enmon said from the side, and Gase pulled his gaze away from the line. Despite his words, Enmon had a wide smile on his face as he also tossed the cleaned bone into the fire. "Which reminds me, you still owe me a meal."

Gase looked at him for a moment before remembering the inn. "Oh, yes. We never did get our food, did we?"

"We did not," Enmon confirmed. "The horde was rather inconsiderate that way."

Gase chuckled. "Well, I'll buy all of you a meal at an inn when we get to Lok."

Aesmin looked up from her food while Hadi kept eating.

"I'll hold you to that," Enmon said.

"We could," Aesmin started. He looked over and saw her biting her lip. Her wounded arm was held to her chest, and she was staring at the piece of meat in her hand. "We could see if we can find more roots and maybe some fruits tomorrow, if you want variety. I can still point out what's good."

Enmon shook his head. "We have enough food to last the four of us for a while now."

Gase noticed Aesmin relax a bit as Enmon mentioned the four of them, and he gave his agreement as well.

"Well, in that case, we should cook all of this tonight," Aesmin said. She pointed at the pile of raw meat pieces that had yet to be cooked. "And rather overcook it than leaving it half raw. That'll keep it from spoiling for a little longer. Drying it would be better, but I don't think we have the time for, and I'm not exactly sure how it's done."

Gase nodded, pulling his mind back to the present. "Good idea. We have enough wood for it; we can keep the fire going through the night, take turns to keep an eye on it."

"How do you want to do this?" Enmon asked.

"A rotation; we each get a turn to stay up and keep watch. Since I'm suggesting it, I'll take the middle. Which of you want the first?"

"I'll take it," Enmon said. "I don't feel like sleeping just yet."

"Okay. If you see something that looks like trouble, don't hesitate to wake the rest."

They spent a while longer sitting around the fire. Conversation dropped quickly as the exhaustion of the day began to take its toll. Gase felt his eyelids grow heavy and decided to call it a night. Hadi had already drifted off by then.

When he unstrapped his swordbelt and laid down, even the hard and uncomfortable earth couldn't keep sleep away for more than a few moments.

Gase walked along lifted walkway built next to the palisade, scanning over the stakes to the expanse beyond. Things had been changing all too quickly with the northerners pushing further south. People were on edge, and bandit attacks were on the rise, deserters from the front bolstering their numbers.

How long until the war reached here? He had asked himself that question many times. As had the others. They didn't say so to their captain, but he could see it in their faces. Even the very palisade beside him had received a quick repair. For years, the only things it kept out were wolves and the occasional great cat. Now it might need to do more.

Ahead he could see the brothers Lem and Tems, standing beside a brazier, hands outstretched to keep their fingers warm. They'd ruin their night vision like that, but he didn't try to forbid it; he knew which battles to fight. At least they had a full moon to provide light. He looked up at the bright orb hanging in the sky. It was one thing that never changed, a constant in the world.

Gase wiped the worry from his face as he approached the two guards. The captain didn't worry, he couldn't. His place was to be the unflinching leader of those beneath him.

"Nice night, isn't it, men?" Gase said as he came within earshot.

"Just lovely, captain," Tems replied, having noticed his approach. "I was thinking of waking up some of the other boys and sharing the experience with them."

Lem snickered at that and Gase kept a smile from his face. "Oh, I think they might just be so overcome with gratitude that they'll allow you to take their own night watches."

Tems grimaced. "On second thought, I was never a man to deal with that much emotion."

Gase opened his eyes, the dream vanishing like mist before the sun. It was still night, and even though most were asleep, the number of people in the camp meant there was always some noise at least. The scent of woodsmoke and cooked meat filled the area, and he traced the smell to the fire still burning to the side.

He had a moment of alarm as his still-sluggish mind registered the silhouette in front of the flames before he recognised it as Enmon. Once he did, he relaxed. Enmon was still keeping watch, and Aesmin and Hadi were asleep nearby; everything seemed to be in order. Gase glanced at the moon the laid back down with a sigh, he still had a while before his watch.

Then he frowned, staring up at the glowing orb. It looked... different. Bigger and... whiter. He shook his head to banish the building unease in his gut. Dreams had a way of twisting reality, why would his dreamed memories be any different?

With the last traces of sleep dismissed, Gase found himself wide awake. With a sigh quite different from the one he gave a moment ago, he stood up. Enmon glanced in his direction before looking back to the fire.

"I can still go for a while," the man said.

"...No, I am up now," Gase said as he made his way over and sat down next to Enmon. "Might as well take over here. Any trouble so far?"

Enmon shook his head. "No trouble. Had a pair try sneaking up, but they backed away when they saw me awake and watching them."

Gase looked over at Enmon. As he sat, the slowly flickering light from beneath caught the spearhead in his hand with a glint and cast long shadows on his face. Gase gave a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I can believe that. I think if you saw yourself, you'd think better of it too."

Enmon raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"You know, I can take it from here if you want to get some sleep."

Enmon nodded but stayed where he was. He seemed to have something on his mind, so Gase waited. It took a while before he spoke again.

"Today... or yesterday, was... something," He finished with a helpless expression.

Gase nodded. "It was."

"After we killed that thing, I felt... I don't know. I thought I was going to die. But then we didn't; we won." - He paused. - "When that priest came up to me and tried to take the corpse... it felt as though he was trying to take that away. I was ready to drive that spear through his throat."

Enmon turned to him. "It was foolish, Yri. Aesmin had it right. The priest himself is a partial, not to speak of the dozen people that trailed behind him."

"I guess we're both fools then," Gase noted.

The smile Enmon gave him seemed little more than a token effort.

"It's just..." He looked back into the embers as if the words were hiding there. "I wouldn't have done that, normally. You wouldn't either. I don't know, it just feels like everything is moving too fast. Things just keep piling up. You asked me what I was going to do after we reached Lok? I have no fucking idea."

"I don't think anyone does," Gase said as he glanced at the sleeping camp.

"Yet you seem to," Enmon said. Something in his tone made Gase look back at him. The man was staring at him now. "Why did you go in to help those hunters?"

"They needed it," Gase said simply. He could see Enmon wasn't satisfied with the answer. "They would have died if it wasn't for us."

"We almost died. Night, one of them still did."

"Yes, but the other didn't. He's alive now because of what we did. He might have a wife, children. Now he gets to see them again, he gets to live. If he keeps being a hunter, he might save even more by killing beasts. None of that would have happened were it not for us."

Enmon looked unconvinced. "Ifs and mights. Doesn't mean much if your dead. You used to understand that, we both did."

"You would have rather we left then? Ran away like most everyone else?"

"That's not it. Ever since you went to that mage, you've changed. Even back at the city, you were the one to volunteer for the wall. We've known each other for what? Nearly ten terms? Neither of us would have done something like that. And now, you're going back to the mage and training with the beastblighted."

"You do realise that you were there as well, right? When I was on the wall and now with this attack."

"Fools indeed," Enmon muttered. "Just... be careful, Yri."

Gase nodded and felt his stomach twist. Even now the man was worried about him when they might all die tomorrow. It made him sick lying to Enmon as he did. It wasn't that he had been Y'rid friend. Like he had said; when he went into the fray, Enmon was there beside him. He needed to tell the man the truth, but he hesitated. He didn't want to lose him.

And then the moment passed. A few drops of fat dripped from the meat skewers onto the glowing coals beneath with a sizzle. Enmon stood up to turn the skewers over.

"Can't believe we actually killed this thing," the man muttered.

Gase hummed in agreement, pulling his mind out of his thoughts.

"I suppose there are worse things to be," Enmon continued.

Gase looked at him. "Oh?"

"I won't be asking any beastblighted for training, though," Enmon said. "I'm not that mad. I'll leave those ridiculous decisions to you. Still, it felt good; killing this thing. Almost as good as eating it."

"Could use a bit of variety," Gase said echoing Enmon from earlier.

Enmon snorted. "Yes well, you can't have everything, I suppose. What I am going to have, is some sleep. You're good with the watch?"

Gase nodded. "I think I'll manage."

Holin looked up from where he was cleaning his armour as Gase hurled the net once more. The copper weights along its edge bunched together, sending it to the ground in an arc with the netting flailing behind uselessly.

The man scowled. "Are you sure this thing was meant to be thrown?"

Holin felt his mouth twitch, his student had a stubborn streak to him, he had to give him that. He had been at it for most of the morning already, and he was soaked in sweat.

"Put more of a twist in your hips as toss it," Holin said, careful to keep the laughter from his voice, as he returned his focus to his armour.

The net had been Jerrick's. The man had often made use of such nets to catch smaller beasts and animals to test his potions and poisons on. Nets didn't tend to last long, but this one was well made at least. It was circular in shape and woven from a razortail lynx's mane, making it more durable than most. And the copper weights along its edge were solidly constructed and worth a silver or two in mass alone.

There was a time when Holin would have found good use for such a tool. Nowadays, he much preferred using the opportunity to score a strike on a beast than to bind it. Well... perhaps that wasn't such a recent development after all, he mused. Besides; some of the greater specimens were simply too strong or big for such a net. An ald would rip through it as if it wasn't even there, razortail lynx hair or no.

"Why are we even doing this?" Gase asked in an exasperated tone.

"A bastard sword pays a price for its versatility," he answered without looking up. "Would be a shame if you didn't make use of that. You'll primarily wield it with both hands, but you should also learn how to use other weapons and tools with your off-hand. It'll begin to shine when you can draw a dagger in the middle of a fight or throw a knife at a closing opponent while fending off another. Or, in this case, not waiting for a beast to close the distance and bite your face off, but tangling it up before it reaches you."

"What about a shield?"

"Shields are for fighting men, not beasts. If a large beast strikes at you, you don't try to block the blow—you get out of the way."

He heard his student sigh and, from the corner of his eye, saw him take up his stance, sword in one hand and net in the other. He had switched his grip on the net again, this time holding onto the edge of the thing. He stared at a spot in front of him as if imagining some creature. Then, with a grunt, he spun, swinging the net around and throwing it through the air. It twisted, the weights bunching up on opposite sides and landing in a tangled heap.

Holin heard his student curse under his breath.

"Try snapping your arm back as you throw it," Holin said. "Put more of a spin to it."

"Why don't you just show me how to do it?" Gase snapped.

"The struggle is what breeds understanding," Holin said quoting the profound-sounding drivel one of the weaponmasters at Stronghold loved to spout. "Seeing is not the same as learning. The way forward can only be found in yourself."

Perhaps that last one was laying it on a bit thick, Holin thought as he saw Gase eye him sceptically. His student must have accepted his statements though, or simply decided not to argue, as he went back to throwing the net.

Holin placed the blood-soaked cloth he held into the equally bloody water bowl and inspected the dark leather armour in front of him. His eyes narrowed at one of the reinforcements over the chest piece. A patch of slightly lighter leather that was added four terms ago after a glut's claw had managed to tear through the original.

Holin brought the piece a bit closer and narrowed his eyes. There, in the seem between the newer leather and the old, a thin strip of dried blood remained. He reached for the cloth again. He had to clean up every piece before he treated the leather with the oil it needed. It was a time-consuming process, but one he did anyway. His armour wouldn't have lasted as long otherwise.

It had been patched, fixed and reinforced many times, but the dark leather base of the chest piece and bracers had remained. The very same he had been wearing for all of his time as a member of the Order. Made out of the drow'rin that had gained him his place. He probably should have replaced it long ago, but he had always fancied the idea of wearing the skin of the beast that was now a part of him.

All the while, Gase continued with his practice. It seemed as though he was trying any 'technique' he could think of. Some of them visibly more sensible than others. Holin nearly burst out laughing when he eventually bundled up the net into a ball and hurled it at a tree. It struck the trunk with a resounding thump.

"Shall we just do away with the net and get you a nice, hefty rock?" Holin asked. "I can hear it now. Tales spreading across the land of the exploits of a stone-throwing Hansel. Beasts beware."

The young man turned to him with a glare.

"Fine," Holin said and stood up. He walked over to the net and spread it out on the ground.

"See there, where it comes together in the middle?" He asked and reached down to grab the part. He held it up, the net hanging down with the weights just above the ground. Then he moved his grip down a third of the way; between the top and the weights. Picking up one of the weights, he added it to his grasp, hooking it with his thumb. Finally, he held onto the bottom edge hanging closest to him with his other hand.

"The weight in your grip pulls up the edge in front and allows the air to scoop beneath it. Your other hand is just to even it out, you want the net to pull it out of your hand when you throw it."

Holin swung it forward in a smooth motion and let go. The net spun in the air, the weights pulling outwards to open it up in a spinning disk, that fell to the ground a few strides away. "Easy."

"Snap your arm back and put a spin on it my ass."

"I thought you were going for a new way of doing things. I was only trying to be helpful," Holin said with mock hurt.

Gase looked at him. "You just used both hands. You told me to do it with one."

Holin waved his hand. "Now you're just searching for things to complain about. You can at least figure out how to adapt the method yourself, right?"

Without waiting for a reply, Holin went back to his armour. He was reasonably sure a net like that could be thrown with one hand. Granted, he'd never done it himself, or seen it done for that matter, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible.

Holin had just returned to his task when a slow sound reached his ears. It was soft, nearly silent, and blended in with all the noises of the forest. It was only his instincts alerting him to its unnatural nature. He tilted his head, and the sound came again not long after. A footfall. They were good, very good, to have gotten this close. And he had a good idea of who it was.

A smile touched his lips as he drew the dagger at his belt. He flipped it over and caught the tip of the blade. Taking no more than a heartbeat to sight the tree his target was hiding behind, Holin snapped his arm forward. The dagger shot out and crossed the dozen strides in an instant, slamming into the trunk.

The was a soft rustle, barely more than a whisper, followed by a rather unladylike curse.

"Thal's balls on a platter," Meera muttered as she stepped out from the undergrowth. She walked over to him with an annoyed expression. "What gave me away?"

"Your steps were too slow," Holin said. "They tried desperately not to draw attention to themselves. Precisely what made them stand out."

"Hmm."

'You should give up," Holin taunted. "You're never going to win."

"I did before, I'll do so again."

"I was asleep." he protested "And you were on watch!"

"Fair game is what you were," she replied and turned her attention to Gase who was still working with the net. "That your new student?"

"That's the one."

"And... is that Jerrick's net?"

"Two for two," he said.

"Oh?"

The sound was drawn out and overly-expressive, as was the look she gave him. Holin didn't like it. There were far too many assumptions in that sound; he didn't need enhanced hearing to pick up on that.

"No use in it lying around," Holin said. He cleaned the last of the bloodstains off the armour before placing it next to the other pieces he had already cleaned. "Why? did you want it?"

Most of their supplies had been lost during the fall of the city. They only had what they had on them when they had gone after the behemoth. Holin had hoped that someone had stolen the packs from their room at the inn, doing them the favour of bringing it out of the city, but no such luck. Jerrick's net had been one of the things in the supply chest they had with them, along with the catalyst beast bindings, some poisons, elixirs and a few odds and ends.

"No," Meera said, shaking her head. "Just surprised, that's all. Speaking of which, aren't you going to introduce us?"

Holin tilted his head. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your voice."

Meera rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

Holin narrowed his eyes as if thinking. Then he shook his head slightly and turned to pick up one of the bracers. "No, still the same husky tone one would expect to find in the cheaper broth—"

His instincts warned him in time to duck, and he did so without hesitation, the butt of her glaive passing just over his head.

Meera clicked her tongue and threw him a rude gesture with her hand, one belied by the smile on her face. Then she sauntered off to where Gase was standing. The man had noticed them by now and was watching with a raised eyebrow.

Holin chuckled and turned his attention back to the bracer in his hand. He gave it a last look over, but it was clean. He picked up the oil flask at his side, removed the cork and covered the opening with a dry cloth before tilting it over, wetting the fabric with its contents. He then loosened the straps on the bracer, deciding to treat them first.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered, seeing the dried blood underneath the strap. How did it even get in there? He sighed and set the oilcloth aside, reaching instead for its bloodier cousin. Somethings couldn't be rushed.