The ride to the safe house is fraught with nothing but thoughts. We ride too quickly to hear anything but the pounding of the hooves beneath us. Barry hangs limp in may arms atop my large gelding.

I hold him close, his whimpers and broken muttering wearing on my soul.

Morgana did all she could, protecting and even bandaging his wounds as she hid them from the battle.

When at last we get close, I hold up a hand to pause the others.

The horses carrying their riders back strapped over their saddles yanks at my heart, along with the knowledge of two brave Shifters sharing a horse with the courageous Werecats. The Imperial sent a good thirteen men and women with us. Coming home is eight. The battle was a cost too dear to pay. I won't allow their sacrifices to be for nothing.

I won't let Barry be another body we must carry back. My heart can't handle any further loss.

I leap from my horse, soft steps guiding me to the cave. The hidden leaver pulls open with a snap and a pop, revealing a tiny moss covered key within a crevice beneath the rock.

To the left is a large waterfall, the pond beneath it splashing with the ever present addition of water. Moss and smooth rocks the size of my hand surround the pond, mixing with larger rocks that turn to boulders until one side meets a rock cliff and the other drops off the side of the mountain.

The land spreads before us in an ocean of muted silvers and dark shadows under the cover of moonlight. This is one of the best views of the Empire I have seen. I take a bare moment to scan the view for any threats I may have missed.

To the South-East is the ocean in all its glory, to the west is the vast desert and the tropics on the other end, where the Mages make their home. The mighty peeks directly before them keep the water from the sandy dunes. Directly north is the large bustling town of Greyston in all its grey stone and torch-lit glory, surrounded by the yellowing produce in the marshy lowlands, the man-made rivers and reservoirs shining a pale silver in the moonlight, looking almost like a spiderweb with the city at its center. Further North-West, you can just make out the Capitol by the white shining castle that is built fifteen stories into the sky and sprawls over five hundred dragon lengths in all directions.

This safe house is an oasis with one pathway in and out, but the memories here… let’s just say I’m not keen on coming back.

I step on smooth rocks, ducking behind the waterfall and covering Barry with my cloak to keep him from the cold water.

Flash follows immediately, Heather helping Morgana along behind him on the slick rocks. The rest shuffle their feet just beyond the pond at the edge of the forest.

The quick glance I spare back says they will have to do good enough on their own. I made no move to cover our tracks, but Flash had it covered. He sent three Were to confuse any tails—I just hope they do it well enough. I can't do it all myself, and I won't take this time away from Barry. Not until I know he's cared for.

I strike flint, setting a pig-oil torch on fire and lighting the way to a nondescript wooden door slick from the constant moisture.

I turn the key in the lock and set foot into a place I’d never thought to see again.

I quietly settle Barry on a small cot in the corner, watching the rise and fall of his chest as if I can somehow keep him here just by willing it.

“Roland!” I snap out of my haze, seeing Heather snapping her fingers in front of me. “There you are. We need a fire and water boiled immediately. Can you do this?”

I nod jerkily, backing away from Barry and tripping over a stool.

A fire pit is dug out of the side of the rocky mountain. The smoke leaves via a small chute in the top corner. The wood and tender are well stocked, just as I'd hoped.

In short order, there is a fire roaring in the hearth, and a cast-iron pot filled with water dangles from the hook in the top portions of the stone wall.

Heather and Morgana are in their element. They settle well into the harsh matter of saving my brother’s life.

Flash pats me on the shoulder. His dark brow furrows in concern at my lack of response.

“We’ve done all we can. Best let the Healers work now.” His ever-present smile tries to make a reappearance.

With a nod, I turn and shoulder my way out of the cave.

The walls close in on me, and I burst from the waterfall in a spray of water.

The Were outside startle at my abrupt exit, many drawing swords before realizing it’s me.

I realize someone is asking me questions and shake my head to reorient myself. It’s a good thing I’m around friends. If I’d shown this level of incompetence in my previous life… I would be dog fodder.

“… ok?” A man is before me. A Were with deep brown eyes, almost black, and dark amber hair. It's a surprising juxtaposition against his pale skin, unique among Were. His hand is on my shoulder and his mouth moves to make sounds that make little sense.

“I—I need to run,” I say, my chest heaving.

I push past the man and make my way into the woods and beyond.

Ghosts play in my vision. Beside the blooming holly bush is where I was forced to make my first kill. The Master enjoyed torturing the young man until I put him out of his misery.

I learned to kill quickly and cleanly.

Beyond that rocky rise with the horse-ear shaped boulder, is a dead tree with no leaves. I was forced to stand and crouch in the bows for hours until my balance became impeccable and I could distinguish between good and rotten branches. Later on, the Master threw rocks, then knives. Dodging became an innate skill, for failure was painful.

And then there are the more recent ghosts I left behind in a cold, dark cell in a city only a scant ten miles from here… which somehow hurts far worse than all the memories of my childhood combined.

I roar, the sound drowned in the melodic splash of the waterfall and the hoots and calls of the night creatures. I jerk my tunic over my shoulders, almost ripping the fabric in my haste to get it off.

I allow the shift to take me, letting my back round and my hands meet the ground as I give into the wolf. Maybe he can prioritize what’s needed, because right now... I can’t.

Sleek black fur tingles across my bare torso and back. My ears crackle and pop as they move further up my head and get tufted points. Fangs poke through my lips and my nose elongates into something else entirely.

At long last, my back paws step out of my pants, shaking into the form that feels more normal than my human form.

I first choose to make sure the trail is covered, for when Greyston's leaders discover the slaughter outside their walls, there will be an army searching for us.

The Werecats Flash sent to cover the trail did better than expected. There wasn't much left for me to do, as I had the wherewithal to put the horses through a few streams on the way up the mountain to throw off any hounds.

That leaves more time on my hands and thoughts left to swirl in my brain.

So I let the wolf loose, allowing his instincts to drive us this night. I chase after a rabbit, fight a coon over a fish(earning another scar on my muzzle), and eventually pad my way back to the cave.

I step hesitantly, my ears swiveling back and forth, the smell of herb and clove filling my nostrils and telling me much about Morgana. Salty perspiration clings to her, along with the drying scent of copper blood.

“He’s alive. I’ve done all I can. It’s up to him now,” she says, still washing the coppery tang of blood from her hands without looking back.

I sit beside her on the bank of the pond, watching my wavering expression. The deep black eyes of my wolf look back, such determination and sorrow in them I’m tempted to turn away. I peel back my lips in a silent snarl. My ivory fangs are long and glisten in the sunlight. The black fur of my coat would look majestic on another being. To me, it just says I’m a black-hearted monster without a place to call home... because I left my family in the moments they needed me most.

My nose has a pink streak through it from a scar long since healed, and the tip of one of my ears is missing. I sigh, batting away my forlorn expression with a paw.

It’s better not to look.

“Go, hon. Be with him. He’ll need you to be there when he wakes.” Morgana shoves through my thoughts with a command.

I nod, not able to voice the unspoken words I believe us both to be thinking.

If he wakes.

Something sweet on the air catches my nose. It twitches, trying to trace the scent coloring the air like an itch you just can't quite scratch. There's the healing herbs of Morgana, the musk of an elderdrake coming to the waterfall for a drink, copper of blood, and the almost moldy scent of moss. My nose trails the curious scent to Morgana's hands. Behind and beneath all the others is a minty, almost flowery aroma I haven't smelled in a very long time.

The Gift of Healing.

She watches me with a hint of resignation and wariness. If I wasn't in my wolf form, I never would have been able to find this scent. She hides herself well, even to one such as I.

Whatever Morgana is, she has healing magic. No wonder I survived what I did... it's highly likely that without her... I doubtless would have died many times over.

What were the chances of me turning up in a city with a Healer? The Empire hates them just as much as it does Shifters—they are, theoretically, Mages after all.

Something was guiding me there, as my blood mother said... just as she knew.

Mother's voice whispers as if she were right beside me, Don't become discouraged over these detours. They will grant you the gifts needed to accomplish your heart-felt desires. They are your tapestry, threaded by a loving father to bring you to an expected place, so long as you listen with all your heart and hold to your trust in him. Be brave, my heart, and know my love goes with you: always and forever.

Alright, Mother. I will do my best to trust that I am where I need to be. Don't fail me, Allfather.

Who do you think has led you here?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. My brain. No more voices, the usual cynical voice replies to the New Voice in my head.

I know you, as well, little one. Don't you remember me? Your previous Master was quite beloved my me. The New Voice is both soft and filled with warm humor as it addresses my usual head pain-in-the-behind voice.

Besides, this is my mind. Not either of yours, I say, wishing my mind could be mine alone once more.

I don't know who the other guy is. He should just leave, the usual voice says in manufactured aplomb. If he were in a physical body, I imagine he'd be crossing his arms and glaring while his foot twitched with nervous energy.

The New Voice laughs, a deep sound filled with genuine humor. I see. Do not fear, little one, I haven't forgotten you. Now, Roland, do you have a question?

I pause, unsure if I should ask this voice that is both personal and vastly out of my realm. It feels both powerful and soft, as if with one word, it could destroy the worlds or calm a pup. Calm me. And I'm not sure I like that. At all.

Ask, my son. The only wrong questions are those that are not asked at all.

Will my brother survive?

His tale is not your tale.

And you won't answer? You won't help him?

That is not what you asked before.

Quite dodging my questions and answer me!

There it is. Passionate, bold, yet tempered by kindness. Just what my world needed. Barry is in my hands, as he is my son, too. Can you not trust me? I will do what is best for both him and your family, as well as my worlds.

How can I trust you? I don't know you, I growl, longing to bite into something tangible just to taste blood and feel something other than this.

Not for lack of me trying, my son.

Then you want me to know you? Quite distracting me. Would you not just answer me such a simple question? I only want to know.

Knowledge is not my goal for you. There is a realm of knowledge you have yet to experience, and without experience you run a risk of not understanding. Should I explain a universe of mysteries, it would be a burden you are not yet ready to handle. Knowing is not an end, and for some it is the beginning of the end. Knowledge is good; yet, too much Knowledge without Wisdom leads to Folly, which leads to Disaster. Knowing is not the answer. I am.

You are the answer? You are the answer for Barry? You are the answer to my every question?

Yes.

I scoff. Sure.

A soft sigh on the wind. You will see in time.

I'm not so sure I will. But if he wants me to know him... should I give him that chance? Where has he been? But something... something reminds me of how I came to have a Healer with me when Barry needed her most.

Without Barry's pain, the commander would have chained him next to Ma and Jed. There would have been no freeing my brother.

And without Morgana, he would have no chance of surviving his wounds. All has led me to here, with the resources needed to save my brother.

But why could the Allfather not have made it to where I could have saved my entire family?

There is more you do not know, child. Too much Knowledge is a burden I cannot let you bear, no matter how much you ask. The voice, once a mixture of humor and power, grows almost weary in tone. A sadness in the depths I can't fathom.

It sways the last of my anger towards him as the weariness matches and even exceeds what I feel. My nose drops to my chest with a sigh. What more do I have to lose? Everything has been taken from me, but you have somehow seen fit to grant Barry back... for now. If you want me to know you... if you truly are the Allfather my blood mother spoke of... I need a sign.

A warm ray of the son kisses my head with the break of dawn, filtering through the trees above. I glance over my shoulder to see the ball of light just cresting the edge of the world to peek through the little corner of the mountain where I sit before the stirring melodic crash of a waterfall. I'm alone. I know not where Morgana went.

And yet—I'm not truly alone.

Did you... plan that? I ask of the New Voice.

Did I? I suppose I could have, if I so desired. The laughter is back, replacing the sadness and weariness of before.

Huh.