It had been almost a week since Dragon had come and taken the ring.

Tiger sat on the hill where he had been beaten by Dragon, leaning against his pack. Robes covered him, like burnt gold flowing from shoulders down. One arm snuck out of the robes to reveal half of his marbled chest wrapped in bandages.

He sipped on some tea, which he flavoured with orange and lemon which caused his face to twist between sips.

His eyes pierced into the distance, glued to the road that led to the nearby village. He had been staring out for some time, waiting and watching.

Several children played behind him. They played hit-tag; whoever was struck by the ball would have to try and hit someone else until the bell rang. Though they were loud, he let them be as rambunctious as they liked today.

He sighed and glanced back at the children.

He saw Timmin’s smile, which was missing a single tooth, the left-most incisor along the top row had fallen when he bit into an apple.

He saw Mary in her red dress. It was her favourite dress, threads peeking out from the hem. Auntie had made it for her two seasons ago during spring.

He saw Garr. Garr was an idiot, but he was their idiot, and Tiger would miss him dearly. He dropped from the tree and landed on his bottom. A yelp later and he was rubbing his bottom. He walked up to Tiger, still rubbing his bottom.

“Brother Ty, what are you doing here?”

Tiger sighed. “I told you not to worry about it, eh, you brat.” Tiger grumbled, reaching up to ruffle through his hair.

“I forgot.” Garr frowned. He always forgot whatever he was told if he wasn’t eating at the time.

“I’m here, waiting.”

“Why?”

“For my friend.”

Garr cocked his head to one side.

“Yes, I have friends. Don’t worry about it.” Tiger ruffled his hair.

Garr looked in disbelief, as he did every time Tiger told him in the past week.

“So you’re waiting for your friend…”

“Yes.”

“On top of this hill?”

“Yes.”

“Why on this hill?”

“Why not on this hill?”

Garr thought about it. Then he left, still thinking about it.

Off in the distance he saw a wagon approach the village. Wagons would come once a month, though the last had come a week ago.

He smiled. This wagon brought along another friend, and Tiger couldn’t help but wonder if the greeting would be the same. He continued to sit at the top of the hill sipping his tea. Yet, even now, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

‘Wolf.’