Surprise makes my mouth resemble a fish.

“I’m losing it” I say, sitting on the edge of my seat farthest from the healer and debating exiting this little inn for good. “How’d I not notice her there?”

I glance to the back door, wondering if the trees would be a greater help to my mental capacity than these crazy folks.

"‘Course a wolf is not gonna listen to a healer. We’re not meant to be abed. We’re meant to run wild."

Glancing up, I find everyone watching me with matching smirks.

I sigh. “My thoughts should stay thoughts. If they don't, I need to go back to bed.”

Despite what my wolf wants.

“Yes, Hon, ya do. You just survived a wound that would kill a normal man, and enough silver to kill an ordinary shifter. Why are ya out?” Morgana's voice is coaxing, relaxing, yet seasoned with the command of an Alpha, even if she isn't exactly that. She's a Leader, which holds just as much clout as an Alpha Shifter.

“Memories,” I say evenly.

My eyes dart from the study of our surroundings to briefly meet her gaze before looking at the table. The very interesting table that has a multitude of stains someone couldn't clean off even with citrus acids. Trust me, I know my acids, and that acid was stout enough to linger months later.

“Roland, look at me.” I force myself to look into this healer slash pryer's eyes.

Can’t they just let dying wolves lie?

Her eyes soften, and I groan, putting my head in my hands as I realize I keep saying each and every blasted thought.

“This is worse than wolfsbane.” I actually meant to say that. Yay me.

“Deary, I know scars like those across yer back leave wounds as deep on the heart as the body, and those don’t heal so easily. Who gave those to you?” It seems like she knows this is the only time she will get answers from me. Her smile is the most gentle I've ever seen it as she replies. “Yes, I know that, too. We need to know.”

So they're basically going to manipulate you into sharing our secrets. Oh, what great friends we make.

At least my inner voice doesn't come out of my mouth like pesky thoughts.

“Some things are better off secrets,” I whisper.

“Let us help you, Roland,” Heather says from across from me, leaning forward and putting her hands on the table.

The table is small and round, so it's easy to converse and even easier to read every reaction I have. Jace and Tim sit on either side of me like bodyguards. Their bulk hardly fits on their hard chairs. Morgana is beside Tim, looking like a shriveled dwarf next to the tall man, then it's David and last Heather, who sits beside Tim. All of them watch me with rapt attention, as if what will come from my mouth is the holy grain of information.

I almost growl at Heather's insolence to command me, but tamp down the urge along with my wolf that wants to howl at being cornered by people he calls pack.

Instead, I glance up to find Heather watching me. She has pools glistening in her Silver eyes she refuses to let fall, satin lips pinched down in concern. Her silken black hair falls in waves past her shoulders.

Nothing like tears from a woman to make a man feel his worst.

“Alright, fine.” I can give a truth they can accept, even if they can't know my full story. They should know part of what they're getting into—mayhap they'll kick me out.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “This isn't the first time I've been caught by the jingoist”—Nor, I doubt, will it be the last—"They aren't kind to their Shifter prisoners."

Morgana watches me with puckered lips, as if knowing that's not the full truth. But I know how this works, and it only takes one person sitting at this table to care for monetary value more than loyalty to send me back to a place of nightmare and horror. A place that broke me until I became who They wanted.

Besides, if The Masters knew I was here, this place would be razed to the ground. It would just look like a freak dragon attack or mage storm... but those who know, know.

I've eluded their grasp for over three years now. That is something their image will not allow out to the population at large; especially if it got out exactly Who I am.

“They did that? Those like the monsters who harmed Shasta?” Heather says.

David watches me intently.

I smile bitterly. “Technically, it was the Emperor, but yes. Many of these scars belong to them.”

“How were you caught again? Why not run?” Tim asks, his face creased in confusion.

I turn to face him. The silver of the moon caresses my back, and I gladly let the healing power work its way deeper into my being. My voice grows stronger, yet weaker, to be speaking of such things. “I couldn't leave. Even a lone wolf longs for family, and a kind man took me in. His family became my family... until someone betrayed us.” I pause, taking a deep breath that aches with the healing pain of stitching wounds. “Now I need to find those I love before they are hurt... or worse,” I finish, shaking my head at the fact I gave them even more than I planned.

The bittersweet scent of compassion colors the air. I shake my head as I realize these people must think higher of me than I deserve.

“I’ve killed. I am the monster everyone believes and more. The jingoist will come for me, and it is better for all of you I am not here when they find me,” I say plainly, meeting each gaze to convey my seriousness.

Why I shared this much with those who could easily sell me out is stupid and idiotic. I know this, but perhaps I can blame any consequences on the drug rampaging through my system.

I have a feeling it was more the wolf begging me to trust those he considers friends, since part of my education was how to resist such things as inebriation and truth serums. He's tired of being a lone wolf and thought us past such things when we found Dan and Frida, but it's not like there are Shifters or humans signing up to be my friend. I look around the table to meet both concerned and kind gazes.

Oh, wait, maybe there is. But they don't genuinely know Who I am and they never can. They'd never look at me the same again... it's possible they'd try to kill me.

Still idiotic to share at all, Idiot.

No arguments there, I respond to it.

I've just met these folks, and even if there is a camaraderie here based on the mutuality that I saved their lives and they saved mine, it's not as if I've known them long enough to know where their true loyalties lie.

But, they fought beside you; they have the same enemies we have.

Now you say to trust them?

I just have to be the devil's advocate. It's in my DNA.

You're a devil alright.

That means you are too.

Shut it.

I am ultimately strong enough to shake off the effects of whatever that tea was. The tingling, burning, itching sensation of my wounds pulling together meets with the strength of the moon upon my shoulders. I stand to my full height, the broken, beaten boy once again hidden behind the strength of my heritage and training.

“Thank you all. You have given me back something I had almost lost. Hope. For both of our kinds to live in peace, and to help one another again instead of living in fear of the unknown.” I make a smile cross my features, although it doesn’t completely mask the sorrow at leaving my new pack mates, which is what they've become, and is perhaps what truly caused me to share. For all her humpbacked witheredness, Healer Morgana is Alpha here, not I. And it is wolven instinct to obey the Alpha.

I meet the resigned green eyes of the healer. Then the hurt eyes of Giant Tim and his friend, Jace. At last I meet the brown and then silver eyes of father and daughter. They both watch with sorrow, as if knowing my choice to be made, yet wishing they could do more. I make a courtly bow. One I was taught in my youth.

“You all have earned my deepest respect. I hope to return someday, when it’s safe.” I pause, then add, “Friends.”