"Two of yours, two of mine. Life is all about balance, my dear boy, as you will find out soon." The big man said. He licked a tobacco leaf, before using his fingers to pinch and grind it to bits, letting the leaf fall into a pipe. His matches let off the pungent smell of sulfur as they were lit.

Ben found that Simms loved to talk, but more than that he loved to be heard. As they sat together in the cart, Grimby's cold corpse between them, Ben tried to keep his eyes mostly on the sky. It was now blue, with only a smattering of clouds remaining, just enough that you could make out the faces of your friends and family in the cloud shapes.

The cart caught a rock in its wheels and the blanket covering Grimby dislodged, showing the dead man's open eyes. Ben closed his eyes, before securing the blanket around him.

Simms sat on the other side, playing with a small glass vial that contained golden liquid. He noticed Ben staring and smiled at him. "Did you know Darby found it by accident? He was just in the process of testing out a more efficient gunpowder mix. Funny what things get discovered by accident. The legend goes that's how they found fire in the new continent. Lighting struck a tree, setting it ablaze, and all of humanity was lucky enough that there was a witness to the miracle."

"I don't believe anybody used fire to twist dogs into abominations," said Ben.

"Ah, but they did use it to burn down the cities of the enemy. That seems like an equivalent crime in my book. You don't like hurting animals do you, Mr. Everett? Why is that?"

"They're as close as you can get to innocent, just driven by their base instincts. They're not deciding to do wrong," said Ben.

"But you burned poor Ferrox nonetheless."

"Ferrox? The surprisingly large canine that killed my friend here?" Ben asked.

"Friend?" Scoffed Simms. "You told me you were new. Did not realize that friendship formed so quickly. Perhaps you would do better in life if you spent some time thinking before throwing your loyalty to the first people you see."

Ben did not see fit to dignify that with a response. Simms' manners had taken a steep fall after the negotiations went sour and now he was not showing much deference.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Ben. After the fight, they were chained and put on carriages, and then taken into the deep forest, by paths that only Simms knew. Although, it would not have meant much to Ben who was wholly unfamiliar with the region.

"Somewhere to hold you in peace and safety."

Ben scoffed, "And more unsettling words were never uttered."

"I deserve more trust than that, Mr. Everett. After all, I kept Sergeant Davies alive, when I could have easily snuffed him out." Simms pointed to Sergeant Davies, who was tied to a horse behind them, with a bag over his head and blood-soaked bandages tied to his neck and leg.

"I will be thankful for that when I can make sure he'll live," said Ben. He had regretted asking Simms to get Davies medical assistance the second the words came out of his mouth. Beyond the fact that the Sergeant had executed a man point-blank, there was the risk that they were all going to be part of some twisted experiment involving the golden liquid. The 50 that were manning the fort were on Ben's mind and he wondered if they were floating face-down in a vat filled with the golden ichor, teeth growing and twisting unnaturally along with their eyes glowing blue.

Ben leaned back, letting his head fall so he could look at the skies. Against his better judgment, lulled by the movement of the cart and the exhaustion of the last few days, Ben fell asleep.

He awoke violently, in the semi-dark, smelling fire and tasting bitter on his tongue. Ben pulled against the manacles and the panic nearly overwhelmed him, until he remembered what had happened.

"Fret not. We've arrived," said Mr. Simms. His face was illuminated by the standing torches, strewn all along the side of the small road. One of the mercenaries pulled Ben out of the cart, walking ahead, dragging him by the manacles around his wrists. Ben looked back and saw Aetna and Tillby in the same situation. Pritchett was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Simms, umbrella in one hand, strolled alongside them. He began chatting with the mercenaries about the weather and what they would have for dinner. The hounds were chasing each other around his legs, eyes nearing phosphorescence in the near dark. They bit at Ben's ankles, tearing patches out of his pants. Fortunately, they did not draw blood, but this distressed Ben nonetheless.

He was marched through the dark and led to a cage. The mercenary shoved him against the bars and locked the door behind him.

Simms nodded, "You'll have to keep until morning, so try and not do anything stupid until I return for you."

Ben held his hands up at eye level showing the cuffs, "At least take these off."

"Can't be risked can it, Mr. Helmarr?" he asked a nearby footsoldier who responded without turning, "No, sir."

"Well, there you have it," Simms said and began walking away.

Ben pressed his face against the cold steel bars and watched the party fade. They stepped off the path, and away from the light of the torches, and vanished in the dark. Ben waited until the rattling of chains vanished.

He knelt and began digging, only to stop after a few seconds. "Duh." he said, "What am I thinking?" Ben then stood and went to the door of his little cage. Locating the lock on the door, he clapped his hands together. It took a few seconds of intense focus, intermingled with some anxiety that it wouldn't work, but it paid off. A flame, small at first but burning brightly erupted from the center of Ben's palms. He pressed his hands together to focus the flame and set it upon the lock.

The metal hissed as it began to turn red, with Ben feeling the heat radiating off the lock, but not the flame he held in his hands. Just as the lock looked as if it was about to melt away, the fire gave a small sputter and vanished. Ben cursed and tried to summon it once more but it was useless. He then pushed his full weight against the gate, trying to force it open. Ben cringed with each groan of the metal, thinking how far it would echo and how well do mutated dogs hear. Finally, it gave way, the lock breaking with a shower of sparks and a clang.

Not waiting around for the mercenaries to come to investigate the noise, Ben ran off into the nearest patch of darkness, halfway regretting his quick escape, as he could have caught a few more hours of sleep and maybe gotten a meal or a drink of water. On the other hand, they might've poured the golden liquid down his throat, turning him into a half-man half-dog, all monster, hybrid.

Ben shivered against that thought and decided on a direction to run at random. From his estimation, Ben had crossed quite a distance before he spied torchlight again. Finally getting a lucky break, Ben saw that it was only a lonely guard keeping an eye on the area, a sleepy one at that, as the man's chin drooped into his chest. Getting a break for once, Ben thanked his lucky stars before tripping on a root and falling on his face.

The noise woke up the guard. The man then struggled with the decision to pull out his sword or his pistol and ending up dropping the torch while he wielded both his weapons.

"Who is that?" he asked as he walked closer. "It better not be who I think it is. Mr. Simms warned you against attacking us. I know you can understand me, you four-legged bastards!" The torch survived contact with the ground only for the fire to vanish seconds later. Ben could not see the guard's expression but he imagined it was quite contrite.

The man was nearly upon Ben, who was preparing for another fight when he heard the clang of wood upon an iron helmet. The man fell unceremoniously at Ben's feet, sword burying itself halfway to the hilt in the soft ground as it fell. Ben scrambled for the pistol, but whoever hit the guard got to it first.

"Alright," Pritchett's voice came from the dark along with the distinctive click of a pistol at the ready, "Whoever that is, man or beast, come here so I can see."

Ben asked, surprised, "Pritchett?" And he heard the man groan in response.

"Gods damn it, Everett. Why couldn't it be Aetna that escaped."