It had been about a month since Cooper had arrived in Adanak, and things were going as well as they could. She tore down a poster with an approximation of her face from where it was taped to a metal pole. After looking at the latest police sketch, she snorted and tossed its crumpled remains into a nearby bin.

Roaming around the outskirts of Southden, despite the danger of being caught. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be caught or not, to be put down or held. There wasn't much left for her here anymore, no family or future. And still she stayed, whether or not out of masochistic wandering it was unclear.

Cooper had spent the six copper on a glass bottle of water, that she periodically refilled with salt water to pour over her wounds. She didn't know if it helped at all, if the only thing it did was sting, but it burned enough to feel alive and for that alone she kept at it. There was no more killing. Not yet, the regret alone was almost enough to keep that urge in check. No, not quite regret. Shame, perhaps. A crushing mix of the two, a lovely little cocktail that paired with consequence.

Not only was she wanted, but she was also incredibly out of place. Still clad in her under armour she had died in —killed in — it was a wonder how she hadn't been caught. She refused to dwell on this in fear that she would manifest her well-earned arrest.

She just needed to go home.

No one in Southden was willing to hire a homeless, bloodstained cretin. No matter how much she could carry or bench press, no matter her years as a captain, as a lieutenant, her appearance along with her face scattered across the city had become less of an annoyance and more of a problem. The problem lay in Southden, where she wasn't sure why she stayed. It wasn't for the lack of opportunity, nor the sights that had changed rapidly. She no longer wished to climb those goddamn mountains that blocked the view of the beyond.

It was finally time to let go.

The plan was simple, find a mode of transport, get as far away from there as possible, find a job and get back to Mabristan as soon as possible, then beg Iarden to reconsider. Easy enough, she was sure. Jamming her cane securely under her shoulder, letting it take more of her weight. She could walk, she could do that, as long as she didn't have to run again. Her shoulders ached, her hips screamed, and she felt like she'd aged ten years in the last few weeks. And it was only getting worse. Her throat was dry, and the sunlight made her skin crawl. Not painful, mind you, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

She walked through the alleys and streets, past the new buildings and construction sites. She passed the old shop she had been staying at, now crawling with law enforcement, like ants at a dropped sweet. She hobbled past, head down. Once she reached the end of the street she turned right, heading towards the next alleyway. As she entered the narrow gap between two brick buildings she realised that it opened up to a campsite she hadn't seen before.

Uninhabited, besides from a small, wide horse that stood grassing calmly beside an old beaten-up wagon. Curiously she edged forward, picking her way through seemingly abandoned equipment. A campfire sat before two off-white canvas tents, long since left and its ashes scattering slowly in the light breeze. Boxes were strewn across the patchy grass, backpacks lay with their contents overflowing. A red-wrapped bar called her name, fingers itching to grab whatever food she could find. Giving in, she bent over the best she could, pocketing the pressed bar of dried fruit into her pocket before rifling her way through the nearest bag.

A small leather pouch of jangling coins was the next to be pulled out, hidden underneath tightly folded clothes that Cooper was tempted to take but decided against it. Somehow it felt riskier than simply taking the money. Eighteen coppers, four silvers and two gold. Not enough for a boat back to Mabristan, but enough for a few meals, perhaps clothes if she was lucky.

As she dropped the bag back to the ground, ready to grab the other, she paused. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her body tensing. Something behind her huffed, the hot air blowing over her back. Slowly she stood, and with one shaky breath, she looked over her shoulder.

The wolf that stared her down was by far the largest she'd ever seen. While wolves are far larger than what is usually thought, far bigger than just 'big dog', this one was closer to the size of a shuttlebus. Its head was longer and thicker than her torso, its nose the size of her hand. Its ears flat against its skull, it took one slow step forward, Cooper matching in reverse. For all its size it didn't appear to be a threat, but that would not stop Cooper. Backing away quicker, turning before she tripped over the peg that held down the horse's rope lead.

Horse. Cooper was going to find out if she was indeed as good with horses as she claimed to be.

With some difficulty, she dragged herself onto its bare back, crutch abandoned somewhere on the camp ground. The wolf growled now, lunging forward but Cooper was quicker. Ripping the rope from the ground, she urged the confused beast forward and held on for dear life. Ushering the tall black horse into a gallop, she fled. Pursued by a wolf.

Flying through the streets was easier in theory. Crowds parted, hurriedly pulling stalls out of the way to no avail. It was at that moment that Cooper remembered that she had never ridden a horse in her life. She assumed it would have been easy. Easier than this. Her legs bounced uncomfortably, her prosthetic wiggling its way loose until it hit the ground with a crack. Wincing, she urged on.

Saltwater was not a miracle cure, no matter how well her wound had held. Her side throbbed in hot flashes up her side, a torch held to her wound would not hurt this way. It did not let up as she raced through the shopping district, turning a sharp corner and heading dangerously close back to the main residential sector.

The tall buildings went by in a grey-blue blur. Cooper's very bones shuddered, skin sore and muscles threatening to escape her body. She half regretted not being eaten alive, with the growing realisation that she did not know how to stop a galloping horse, much less when riding bareback. She kept a tight hold around the horse's neck, staying flat on its back as she hung on for dear life. From the corner of her eye she could see someone - another blur, but definitely a person - running with her rather than away. Far quicker than a regular person, though not by any means irregularly fast. Cooper wasn't certain that they were real. A white and brown blur against the backdrop, steadily keeping time with the rampaging beasts. The horse slowed, not stopped, but enough that Cooper could once again see the world clearer.

The person - a short, frail-looking woman who had no business being as fast as she was - kept running, hopping onto the wall of a narrow brick fence that surrounded the nicer of the housing options without losing pace. The horse veered towards the wall, close enough that it would have grazed Cooper's leg if it had still been there. A noise — what could only be described as a strangled wail — broke out from Cooper, only made worse by the woman racing her launching herself off of the short wall and landing behind the panicked templar. She reached around Cooper, hand brushing too close to her waist as she held her close, leaning their combined weight back. Slowly, surely, the horse slowed from its panicked gallop, finally easing up and seemingly willing to follow orders.

Cooper was as good with horses as she was a templar.

The stranger shuffled behind her, guiding them back down into the shopping district. If Cooper was any more intact, she might have fought her. Might have felt something other than her heart dropping down to hide in her pelvis, making fast friends with her stomach that had resided there far past its welcome. She turned to shoot a glare as the woman's hand gripped her side a little too hard, a little too low to be comfortable. The stranger flashed a sharp-toothed grin in her general direction. A mouth of too many canines, much like her own. Something deep inside her knew her. Knew her face but not her name, her but not her history. Something deep that called to her, despite their paths never crossing.

"You're hiding from the big bad wolf?" said the stranger in a tone somewhere between a joking banter and a taunt. "Spooked the horse a bit?"

"I think this is obvious."

"Let me help you with that."

Cooper choked. "Why?"

"Does it matter?"

No. No, she supposed it didn't. The consequence of life was that she was merely being thrown around by the spite of the universe, riding on the coattails of her own ineptitude. She didn't feel as if she had much choice in the matter.

The horse cantered along — what Cooper assumed was a canter, the point is that it was closer to a humanoid jog — and despite the stranger's disinterested (and frankly dismissive) comments that there was no wolf that haunted Southden, Cooper refused to return to the campsite. The stranger refused to leave either, though Cooper had regained control; keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned past to keep the other on the horse's thick neck.

There was of course no wolf that haunted Southden, that would imply it was a ghost. A ghost wolf. And, of course, no ghosts existed. The gargantuan guard of the campsite was just that, a guard. Though the fact it did not follow them did not soothe Cooper's nerves. Cold, clammy sweat accumulated on her neck and back, her skin writhing. She scratched at her chest, nails digging into the thin sheen of coagulated sweat as she prodded at thin groupings of raised skin. She could have sworn that something there had moved, something that had long since become a part of her. Her body a shuttlebus for decay.

Turning a corner against her will, the horse carried the two through an almost too-tight alleyway that opened back into a horrific site.

The campsite sat ransacked from where Cooper had ransacked it. Bags lay with their innards strewn, red fabric pouring from their brown skin. She wanted to look away, the sight curling her own insides, throat constricting, but the sight was far too magnetic. Her one good eye scanned the area, overworking to make up for the darkness of the other.

They were not alone, because of course nothing was simple. The wolf stood from where it had curled up on the far reaches of the camp, Cooper's leg dropping from its oversized maw. It snorted, slowly making its way over, head bowed and large gold-brown eyes looking up at her. Curious, rather than menacing. Nevertheless, Cooper was ready to throw up her stomach.

The stranger squeezed her side, once. It might have been made as a comforting gesture but it made her skin crawl and writhe much like the bodies that had once, or maybe still, inhabited her. The feeling only worsened as the wolf started to convulse, body curling in on itself, fur falling out and redistributing. Folding in on itself like the flatpack furnishings beloved by her campus, smaller and smaller, and naked. The body sunk in on itself as Cooper stared on in horror. Bloody skin reforming, bones snapping, breaking and winding as they remade themself in human image. It growled and groaned and screamed into place, before finally it stopped. Body curled in tight, unmistakably human now, nothing that distinguished it as an unnatural wolf creature. It's dark brown skin, and thick locks of hair darker still. Slowly, surely, it unwound itself, the woman — for it was a woman — standing carefully on her two feet. Her eyes turned from a warm, glowing amber to a dark brown-black.

Raelyn Godrick.

A very naked Raelyn Godrick, and by the Gods was she pissed.

The tent she had unceremoniously dragged her to had been patched numerous times above where Cooper lay, as Raelyn stitched up her side from where it had evidently opened at some point during her thrilling horse ride, though she wasn't sure when. The stranger — Val, no other name given — had complained about the slick that covered her hand, but Cooper felt no remorse. It was her fault for grabbing her.

'I'm convinced that your organs aren't right,' Raelyn had said, poking around her insides after giving Cooper a questionable grey drink that stopped her nerve system in its tracks. Strangely nice, not feeling anything. She could get used to the sensation, or lack of it. She watched as Raelyn delicately pushed the needle into her flesh, back and forth until her seams no longer split, eyeing a tattered book with her tongue caught between her lips. A bandage was wrapped around her middle with the utmost care. A flame and a knife could have done the same effect, but Raelyn refused to listen. Cooper couldn't help but feel the pang of betrayal that her friend trusted a medical journal over herself.

"Why are you in Adanak?" asked Cooper, her words far more accusatory than she had meant. Raelyn paid her no mind as she tidied away her equipment.

Raelyn barely looked at her, jaw clenched. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Sightseeing, clearly." Her friend did not appreciate her joke. With a sigh she conceded. "It wasn't by choice. I just...woke up here."

Now, that wasn't a complete lie. Leaving out a few things, sure, but not a lie. Raelyn wasn't happy with the answer, despite it being the closest thing to the truth that she could give.

"You didn't answer my question," said Cooper, sitting up her gelatinous body and propping herself against Raelyn's backpack. "Why Adanak? Hell, Southden of all places?"

All she got was a sigh in response.

"Rae?"

"Later," said Raelyn abruptly. She rubbed her palms together, finally looking directly at her. "Right now I'm far more concerned with your well-being. Can hardly let you wander around like, well, like that."

Now dressed in borrowed oversized clothes that she had once considered stealing anyway, Cooper sat next to the owner himself. Finn was a lovely man of few words and looked as if he had every disease imaginable. Cooper's perfect man. In their matching green coats and black eyepatches, they could have been identical, if it were not for Finn's sickly white complexion against her (albeit greying) tan. That, and the fact that he was a man, and she was a corpse.

The four — three, really, as Val took more interest in standing and picking at her nails like a heathen — sat around a campfire under the twin moons of Kirus. Crescents. It didn't stop Raelyn from shuffling uncomfortably, scratching at her skin and picking at her nails. It came to the point where Cooper was certain that it had more to do with her than the lycanism, not that Raelyn would ever say it aloud. The excitement of the reunion was washed away by flames crackling over bloodstained clothes.

Cooper busied herself with sharpening her borrowed blade - one that Val had scrounged from the back of a canvas-covered wagon and tossed in her general direction. If she could work, if she could raise the funds to return to Mabristan she could avoid them entirely, to never explain the whys and hows of whatever that was happening to her.

'What's wrong with you?' she wanted Raelyn to ask. To get it out the way, rip the bandage off. 'I don't trust you. Why would I ever trust you?'.

Instead, her friend sighed and placed her hands over Cooper's, gently prying them from whetstone and iron. "Here, let me," she said quietly, near absent-mindedly, "you're doing it wrong."

Cooper was definitely not doing it wrong, but she wasn't going to argue. She let Raelyn take over, the movement stilted and mechanical. Moving by muscle memory rather than focus. Cooper picked at the skin of her fingers to compensate for the lack of activity she was now faced with, the only other option being to stare at whatever Finn was up to with his collection of cans and frankly, she didn't want to know.

With another short blast of flame, the fire roared, rising high into the sky under Finn's steady gaze. Under his oversized coat, Cooper could see his pale skin darkening to black, turning to charcoal under the force of his magic, eyes flashing orange. Her blood boiled, heart skipping, the curse of her sensitivity. If only it were useful, rather than reacting to outside forces. To be a true mage rather than a detector. Raelyn barely looked up from the sword, ready to sharpen it to nothing as if it were preferable to talking to Cooper. It likely was. Finn carefully set his mystery cans around the edges of the campfire, hands delving into flame for the best angle for each.

"So," said Cooper carefully, "what exactly do you two do for this...boss of yours?"

Finn looked at her as if surprised that she stayed. "We guard him, drive his wagon, tend to his horses. Y'know, the usual stuff."

"Didn't think mercenaries were..." she trailed off, waving her hand through the air as she thought of the right word.

"Capable?"

"...Caring?"

Finn snorted. "Get on Barnaby's good side and maybe you'll find out."

The first half seemed far easier. Guarding she could do, it was what she was raised for after all. Give her a sword and point at an enemy and it would be done. Befriending? Making good impressions? She would rather perish. Again.

Luckily for her, Finn seemed happy with his cans enough to pluck them from the fire and roll them towards the two women, ceasing the conversation in the bud. Cooper crinkled her nose in distrust, watching the unmarked metal tumble with purpose towards her feet. Finn tutted at her, as if she should know what to do with a boiling can of 'what the heck' and maybe she should. Perhaps this was the norm for those raised outside the Temple. She reached for the can.

The noise that came from her mouth was ungodly at best.

"Cooper," scolded Raelyn, "fucking hell, you're supposed to let them cool."

'Yeah I know that now,' she tried to grumble behind her burning fist, the sound coming out closer to a series of whimpering grunts than real words. "what the hell is in those cans?"

"Hot food," Finn rolled his eyes, a smile on his deathly pale face, "I'm sure you've heard of the concept."

Val let out a snort, finally joining them. She sat, grabbing at one of the unlabelled tins with ease thanks to her thick gloves. Cooper could only whine, both at the feeling and the proximity to Val once more. The palm of her hand was an angry mass of nerves under throbbing welts that quickly grew across callous skin. Finn watched her with mild curiosity before heaving a sigh, gesturing for her to come closer with a sharp flick of his fingers. Cooper crawled over as a pathetic little thing, body not made for soft, elegant movements. With all the grace of a disgruntled toddler, she held out her hand for inspection. Finn took her hand in his, far gentler than she would have ever expected, placing his palm against her own.

Her skin cooled under his touch, the remaining heat being drawn into his own hands. Cooper stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why are you being nice to me?" she said in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

"Because I can already tell that you're gonna be a brat."

Cooper pouted. Finn shooed her away like a tired older brother on babysitting duty.

The can wasn't worth the burnt flesh. Thick chunks of greying meat, falling apart into a heavily peppered substance that may or may not have been gravy. Cooper ignored the texture, chewing quickly and swallowing, washing the taste out with leather-flavoured water from Finn's canteen. Somehow far worse than the Temple's meals ever were, despite the meat's questionable origins for both. She tactlessly pushed the half-eaten remains towards Raelyn, who sighed and passed it over to Finn.

The four sat under the darkened sky, filled with constellations that Cooper had never bothered to learn. Skin an orange-gold hue, fire-warmed and content as they could be.

"Screw it," said Val, stretching and cracking her back, each vertebrae clicking like that of a zipper, "who's up for a story?"

Cooper snorted. "I didn't think you'd be the type for campfire ghost stories. What next, tucking us in?"

"Cooper, I say this with as much respect as I can, zip it."

Raelyn reclined across the dry, dusty ground, carefully carving an apple she pulled out from Gods-Know-Where, watching them curiously. She slipped a sliver of fruit into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before she spoke with her mouth half full. "I can start if y'all want?"

Finn gestured towards her with his palms outstretched, letting her take the floor. Rae ate another slice of apple. Then another. "Think it's right on the theme if I tell the tale of why the three of us are here in the first place. The who, if you will." Raelyn sliced off another piece of apple, passing it over to Cooper on the tip of her blade. "Spoiler, Barnaby has us looking for the Darkblade of House Valcari."

Cooper gratefully took the slice, devouring it in seconds. "I don't know what a Valcari is."

Val snorted, what might have been a laugh. Raelyn thankfully ignored her.

"That's even better." Raelyn grinned, white teeth made sharper under the flickering light. "Buckle in, you tin can fuck, because this is a lot." She cleared her throat, making no effort to move from her casual stretched-out pose. "An arranged wedding, a craving for power, and the will of the Gods. It all started when Artemis Valcari, forgotten middle child, was set to marry none other than my ancestor, Albert.

On the night of the wedding, Artemis disappeared. Fled to the depths of Demus, in search of a Witch of the Wilds. It was there that she called upon the Gods themselves, begging for a way out of the arrangement, and what she gained in return? Far, far, more than she bargained for. They say Omera herself took interest in the young princeling and became her Patreon. Made her something not quite...human. The stuff of legend."

Raelyn paused to take a bite of her apple, giving up on the blade. The crunch broke the newfound silence. Cooper stared at her inquisitively, leaning forward.

"Destined to be Queen, but her family stood in her way," drawled Val, "oh come on, you all know the tale, surely?" Cooper's blank stare was her only answer. "The Mabrisian serial killer?"

Raelyn threw her head back in an annoyed groan. "It's not interesting when you boil her down to that."

Cooper tilted her head to one side as she mulled over her words. "What does this have to do with the Darkblade?"

"Long story short she took it after her mass of murders, and Barnaby's managed to track it down to somewhere in Shales. Honestly thought you would be into the full story, not the footnotes. She did allegedly kill your girlfriend's ancestor, after all."

"Iarden's my fiancée, and you know this because-?"

"This ruined my family," the words hung unchallenged in the air in a growl. "Whatever Albert did - chasing the damn woman cross country, it bankrupted us. It's been four centuries and we're only now recovering."

Cooper would not refer to Raelyn's family as recovering. Wealthy, sure, that was one fact she couldn't dispute, but they were hardly a family. Even if they were, Raelyn had no place among them. Still, Cooper felt no need to argue, not when they had only just reunited.

"So, your ancestor, what happened to him? Did he ever find Artemis?" asked Finn after a long silence.

Raelyn shook her head, "he died of old age before he could even see Artemis again. He was one of the lucky ones."

Finn stared at her, his one eye boring into her, eyebrows pulled tight.

The trio retreated to their tan canvas tents, the thick material flapping lightly in the breeze. Cooper shivered, hunkering down in front of the dying fire, curling up on her side. The sound of a zip ripped through the air, Cooper sat up again bleary-eyed.

"Coop?" Raelyn stuck her head out of the tent's opening, staring at her with large brown eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping?"

"Not out here, you'll freeze. Come on."

Raelyn returned to the tent, holding the flap open for Cooper to clamber through. The space was small, far smaller than she was used to. Either way, she was fine sharing, and Raelyn hadn't complained too much.

Cooper lay on her back, staring up at the beige canvas above, fiddling with the side of the blanket that she shared with Raelyn. They lay side by side as they once did at sixteen, although now further apart with no underlying thoughts or lingering gazes. She wasn't planning on kissing Raelyn again that night, not as she had those many years ago, when times were simpler. She was married after all. They were adults.

She ripped out threads of woollen yarn while mustering up the courage to say what she was too cowardly to say in front of Finn. Whatever happened at that bar.

"Hey, Raelyn?" she asked softly, with no response, "I think I need to tell you something-"

Raelyn met her words with a soft snore as she slept soundly beside her. Her own eyelids were heavy, barely being able to keep them open, but the tangled, stabbing pain in her stomach kept her from truly sleeping.