Fenrin wasn't happy.

He wasn't happy leaving his mother and sister. He wasn't happy when Bryn carried him roughly. And he certainly wasn't happy when Bryn made him walk, the heavy bag cutting into his shoulders and making him pant with effort.

He would complain, but his voice was hoarse and he was too out of breath. The two other men had laughed at him once but his father had given them a look and they had shut up and stopped paying Fenrin any mind.

When Bryn finally ordered the group to stop, Fenrin collapsed, earning a mirthful look from the men that he was too tired to care about. He groaned as Bryn nudged him with his foot. "Come Fenrin, let's go get wood for the fire."

Fenrin wanted to refuse, but he had seen enough of his father in the last two days to guess it wouldn't do much good. Besides, he liked being out in the woods and he wanted to walk without his heavy bag.

So, he followed the large form of Bryn, who carried a torch and a hatchet. Without a word, his father chopped down a small tree effortlessly. Fenrin couldn't help but be impressed by Bryn's strength and he took the small logs Bryn handed him without complaint.

They returned to camp. Fenrin held the wood awkwardly until the dark man, Jaired, Bryn called him, took them and began stacking them into a fire. Dyla had taught Fenrin and Lyra how to make a camp, but still he watched, fascinated by the man's quick efficiency.

Bryn called Fenrin over and showed him his pack. The small hatchet, the flint and steel, rope, a bedroll, his waterskin, packages of food, and a small box of bandages and dried herbs. Bryn nodded approvingly as Fenrin recognized most of the tools and Fenrin flushed with pride. Bryn showed him how to lay out his bed and Fenrin wriggled into the bedroll, it's treated leather protecting the fur inside from the cold damp ground. He quickly fell asleep.

He woke sore and confused. The sun was barely rising, casting an eerie pale blue light through the still bare trees. Panic rose in Fenrin’s throat and a whimper escaped. His stomach felt empty and twisted. He wanted to be home, cracking open walnuts with Lyra, watching the shells pop when they tossed them into the fire. He wanted to be in the garden with his mother, picking vegetables and clearing weeds from the little paradise. Not here in the cold morning with a father he barely knew.

Fenrin began to cry.

The other man, Tor, turned over and muttered a curse. Fenrin hid his face and cried into the soft fur, wiping his nose with his shirt. After an hour that felt to Fenrin like a miserable eternity, the men stirred, getting up and reviving the fire. They attended to their business and began breakfast. Fenrin stayed curled in his bed until Bryn's form loomed over him. "Get up, lad."

Fenrin didn't move. Bryn reached down and pulled him out. The boy shivered in the cold air. Without a word, Bryn straightened his son’s legs and stuffed Fenrin's feet into his boots. Bryn dragged him, still shivering in the chill morning air, to where Bryn's bedroll was. His father showed him how to roll and tie it, securely attaching it to the pack.

Fenrin walked back to his and tried it half heartedly. It was loose and lopsided, and the ties wouldn't reach around. He heard a soft growl as Bryn watched and Fenrin jumped. "Do it right, boy, or we will leave it here and you'll sleep in the cold."

Fenrin's ears turned red and he rerolled the leather. It wasn't perfect, but it tied and stayed on the pack. Fenrin turned nervously to Bryn, but his father had moved on, talking to Tor and Jaired.

Eyeing his big pack distastefully, Fenirn hesitated. He didn't want to put it on. Jaired walked over and shouldered his own pack, glancing at Fenrin. He gave a grin and one of his teeth glimmered golden. His accent was almost musical.

"Be happy it's large now. Smaller means less food." Jaired winked and the men began to walk away. Fenrin quickly pulled the pack on, wincing as it landed in just the wrong spot on his sore muscles, and scampered after them.

As the days passed, Fenrin grew used to the routine. His muscles stopped aching and he helped out more with the camp. Some mornings he still woke up crying, but he tried to put home out of his mind.

He still wasn't quite sure what to make of his father. It was clear he was in charge. Tor and Jaired obeyed him without question and Fenrin learned to do the same. Bryn scared him a little. He pushed Fenrin hard but never passed what he could do. He didn't, however, take failure lightly. He would growl and rumble like a thunderstorm about to release lightning when Fenrin didn't perform satisfactorily. He got the sense that Bryn was holding back something terrible and it made Fenrin twitchy.

It came out in their third week. Fenrin had woken in the middle of the night, nature calling. Tor was on watch, prodding the fire with a stick and scanning the darkness. Fenrin yawned and stepped outside the circle of bedrolls to do his business. He was cleaning up when his father's voice came low and dangerous.

"Fenrin, drop to the ground."

Fenrin looked up from his pants and saw a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him. He could just make out the wolf's large form in the firelight.

He froze. His father's words echoed in his brain but he felt if he moved the wolf would gobble him up. As he stayed still, the wolf padded closer.

With a roar, Bryn charged, batting Fenrin aside. He had one of his small throwing axes and plunged it into the wolf's face, his hand gripping its right ear. The wolf's fangs bared as the axe cut into it. It tried to pull away, but Bryn released the axe and grabbed the wolf's neck, roaring again as he flipped it over. It scrambled, it's teeth flashing and catching Bryn's arm.

Two more wolves appeared, but Tor kept one back with his spear and Jaired took another down with an unusual thick sword, slicing into the beast's neck. Fenrin lay on his back and watched his father wrestle with the animal. Pinning it with his large form before hacking the little axe into its neck, slaying it.

Bryn got up and held a hand on his dripping arm. It glowed and the bleeding stopped. Fenrin stood up, backing toward the fire as Bryn approached, his father's grey eyes flashing. His arm swung and his hand hit the side of Fenrin's head sending him rolling in the dirt.

Fenrin looked up, his eyes glistening with tears and his ear ringing. Bryn clenched and unclenched his fists and growled, "When I tell you to do something, you do it."

The Bear turned away and joined Jaired and Tor in skinning the two downed wolves, the third having run off into the night.

Things were awkward for a while for Fenrin, but slowly the memory of the incident passed, although Fenrin never forgot Bryn's words. After another week of traveling, Bryn began showing Fenrin more ways to use his little knife. Fenrin learned how to stab and parry and also how to skin and butcher animals, occasionally helping with feeding the group.

One month after Fenrin had left home, they reached the ocean. Fenrin couldn't tear his eyes away. He never realized things could be so vast. The dark waters rolled into eternity and the sound of the waves drifted up to the top of the cliff they stood on. Seagulls cried in the clear salty air.

"Get your rope," Bryn ordered and Fenrin dropped his pack, reached inside, and removed the coil. He looked up and Bryn had his own rope. "Watch."

Slowly, Bryn showed Fenrin how to tie the rope around himself securely. After two attempts Fenrin got it and Bryn pulled the knot, checking to make sure it was secure.

Tor went first, Bryn and Jaired slowly lowering him down the cliffside. After him was Fenrin, who hesitated at the top, scared by the height, Tor now a small figure at the bottom. Bryn walked up and spun him around so he was facing away from the edge. He had Fenrin's rope twisted around his wrist, the end held by Jaired. Taking Fenrin's small hands in his big one, Bryn said in a steady voice, "Bend your knees and lean back."

A month of snap obedience paid off and Fenrin felt his knees bend. He leaned back, breathing quickly and digging his nails into his father's callouses. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to think of the empty space he was leaning over.

"Open your eyes."

Fenrin's grey eyes, speckled with green and brown met his father's silver ones. "Jump back and keep your feet facing the wall." Fenrin stiffened wondering if he could jump, but his father pushed his stiffened arms and sent him off the cliff edge.

He yelped, hands tearing free and quickly clutching the rope. He fell for only a moment before swinging towards the cliff face. Keeping his feet out, he touched lightly on the edge, bouncing like Tor had done before slowly beginning to descend.

His fear gave him hiccups and he wasn't over them when he landed, jelly legged at the bottom. Tor gave him a grin and slapped his arm approvingly. Fenrin hiccuped and gave a small smile, still in shock.

Tor untied Fenrin and used the rope still dangling from above as Bryn easily pulled him back up. He and Jaired had to work together to support Bryn's great weight.

As his father landed heavily beside him, Fenrin realized Tor had come first just so Fenrin wouldn't have to. That stopped his hiccups. When Tor returned to the bottom, Fenrin wondered how Jaired would make it down.

The Duskar climbed freehand. When he reached the bottom safely, Tor laughed. "I didn't believe you at first when you said you could climb it."

"I know. You owe me three hundred."

Tor pretended to scowl but reached for his bag, passing his wallet to Jaired without argument. Bryn helped Fenrin to his feet and then kneeled pointing down the edge of the cliff. "My ship is hidden in a cave over there. Watch your footing."

Fenrin nodded and they began walking once more.

The ship was huge. Long with a huge rearing mast the shape of a bear. Seeing Fenrin staring at it, Jaired said, "It was a dragon, but Bryn had it whittled into himself."

Fenrin didn't get it until he turned and watched his father's large lumbering form greet his crew and looked back at the mast. He thought of the large bear on Bryn's chest and giggled as he finally got the resemblance.

About twenty men poured from the ship, cheering as they greeted their leader. A thin lithe man slid down the mast, leaping expertly from the side and landed lightly in front on Fenrin. "Oi, this the cub?"

Fenrin's ears reddened as he heard his father's rumbling laugh. "Yes, that's my son, Fenrin."

Soon the boy was surrounded by men, poking at him and laughing merrily with each other. It was a bit overwhelming and Fenrin's shoulders hunched up trying to hide himself. Bryn moved over and the crowd cleared. He lifted Fenrin and swung him onto his shoulder, where even at nine, he easily fit. His father had a huge grin on his face and roared, "We set out in three hours!"

The men scrambled to their places and Bryn walked about the ship, inspecting everything and explaining it to Fenrin who desperately tried to fit it all in his head.