When Rachel awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was actually very warm for once. It wasn't the warmth that she was used to, the kind she got from being underneath her comforter with Zack. It was the same as when her parents were still alive, when she had a warm home and bed in which to spend every night, and when her father's dog would curl up on her feet before she went to sleep. For one fleeting second, Rachel thought she was waking up from a dream, and the thought that the past few weeks were nothing but a dream was scarier than any nightmare.

But that misconception only lasted a second. This was not her old room and this was not her parents' house. As she sat up to rub her eyes, she realized that she was underneath her blanket from home. Her red cloak had been removed and hung on the closet door; her black overdress had also been removed, leaving her in her wool stockings and white underdress. There was a nice fire in the grate and her basket was on the bedside table. The bed was in the middle of the room; on one side was the fireplace and on the other was a curtained slat window. She could see daylight peeking in through the wooden planks.

"Zack?"

As the seconds stretched out with no answer, Rachel began to feel panic start to creep in on her. He'd been her constant companion for nearly three weeks at this point; his absence was incredibly worrisome.

Just as she was about to push herself out of the bed and plant her feet on the floor, the thick wooden door set into the wall beside the fireplace creaked open. Rachel looked to it, confused. Her expression, however, remained as stoic as ever.

"Oh, she's awake!"

The voice belonged to a matronly woman with auburn hair streaked with white. She was barely taller than Rachel and similarly proportioned, too. Her patched blue dress was overlaid with a pristine white apron and she carried a plain wooden tray with a wooden bowl atop it. She looked and seemed like she was old enough to be Rachel's mother. Unlike Rachel's mother, though, she seemed genuinely kind and gentle-natured.

"Umm, hello."

The kind-looking woman smiled at her and Rachel struggled to return the expression. It was then that she noticed a young, red-haired boy trundling along behind his mother. He peeked shyly around her shoulder; he looked to be no more than twelve years old.

"Mama, she's pretty," the boy whispered. Rachel's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"Now, George," the older woman chided. "Please mind your manners. Here, dear. I brought you something to eat." As the woman approached, Rachel could see inside the bowl. It seemed to be a warm gruel, the kind that would be eaten at breakfast. She took it gratefully but didn't start eating just yet.

"Madame," she said hesitantly, "Can you… tell me how I got here? And where I am?" The lady folded her hands over her apron and nodded.

"We're just a bit north of Mont Thabor," she explained, pulling a rocking chair over. "As for how you got here, my sons brought you here." Rachel's eyebrows pinched together, but her expression remained neutral. The last thing she remembered was the snow starting and her having to be carried by Zack while he yelled at her to wake up.

"I see," she said slowly, staring into her bowl of porridge. "I was… Was I alone?" She didn't want to expose Zack to any human retaliation if she didn't have to. A shadow momentarily crossed the lady's face, but she hid it well. Rachel noticed, though.

"No, you…" she started, staring at her hands, folded in her lap. "I don't want to startle you, dear. But my sons found a wolf trying to eat you." Rachel reflexively touched the bandages on her neck. Had they misunderstood? Or was Zack possibly trying to fulfill his promise while she was still alive? The thoughts swirled in her head, making her dizzy. She must have looked ill just then, since the woman rose and steadied her with her hands.

"I'm really sorry," the woman tried to comfort her. "You'll be alright now. My sons took care of the wolf." Rachel's head snapped up to look at her. For the first time, her stoic expression changed to one of distress.

"What do you mean?" she asked, near frantic, "Where is he?" The woman shushed her gently.

"He can't get you here," she said softly. "There, there. He's gone. They dispatched him." The woman's green eyes were nothing but kind, but Rachel's chest squeezed with despair.

"No, he…"

If they killed him, it must have been because she'd slowed him down. She brought nothing but death and misery to those around her and now she'd gotten Zack killed as well. Her hands clutched the bowl, knuckles going white. Her breath came in sharp huffs and her vision began going dark in the corners. Rachel thought she might pass out again. The truth was, though, that she should have already been dead.

"Oh dear, the shock was too much for her," the woman lamented, turning to the younger boy. "George, go get…"

"Mother, is she awake?"

Rachel was so deep in her frantic thoughts that she hardly noticed the two taller men enter the room. When she turned to see them, face dull and pale, it was obvious that they were related to the other two. Both wore dirty farming clothes with heavy boots and gloves, and the shorter one was carrying a shovel. Both also had the same red hair and green eyes as their mother and younger brother. It was obvious they'd been out in the snow. Rachel might have even found them all charming, if she wasn't in the state she was currently in.

"Yes, but it seems like she's very upset," the woman lowered her voice as she stood, smoothing her hands over her apron. "Perhaps you should reassure her, Albert?" The older son smiled warmly at his mother as she tossed a reassuring smile over her shoulder to Rachel.

"Don't worry," he said with a nod, "You can go take a break. I'll talk to her."

"I'll see you soon, dear," the lady directed her voice at Rachel. "Come on, boys, let's give her a chance to rest." The youngest followed obediently, but the one Rachel figured was the middle child hung back.

"No, I wanted to speak with her, too," he said softly. Rachel's distress had receded to a point that she could watch this family's dynamics somewhat calmly. Even as her heart stung, she was curious what had happened.

"You don't need to worry about it, Eddie," the one named Albert reassured his brother. "I'll take care of her." Just before he said it, Rachel could have sworn she saw a faint flicker of annoyance flit across his face. Something was wrong here. What was it? Likewise, the one called Eddie smiled at his brother, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I had some questions to ask her." Eddie stood his ground. Rachel felt a small bit of relief at that. Albert's insistence made her a bit nervous, as did his disgruntled sigh as he gave in to Eddie.

"Fine, do what you want," he huffed, flopping into the rocking chair his mother had just vacated. As he slid his bright green eyes over to Rachel, she sat forward and turned to them.

"Where is he?" she asked quietly. "The wolf. Your mother said…" Albert laughed sharply, cutting her off.

"Sorry, we lied to her," he replied, his eyes keen.

"Mother has a deep phobia of wolves," Eddie said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed near Rachel's feet. She had the distinct feeling of being cornered. Even so, she felt a spark of hope well within her; it wasn't exactly a familiar feeling, but she didn't have time to marvel at it.

"Then he's…"

"He ran," Albert barely disguised his glee as Rachel's expression fell almost imperceptibly. "We pointed our flintlocks at him and he said you weren't worth the trouble." She didn't know what to think. On the one hand, there was relief that Zack was still alive. But on the other, she couldn't help but think he would never do something like that. He hated liars. He'd never go back on his word.

"You don't have to worry," Eddie said with a gentle smile, "That brute won't bother you again." He reached over to take Rachel's hand; his thick gloves were terribly cold, causing Rachel to instinctively withdraw. He looked just a bit disappointed but his brother apparently found the situation hilarious.

"Eddie, you idiot," Albert sneered with a hint of joy at being able to needle his younger brother. Then he turned to Rachel, his voice a bit kinder. "Either way, you're here now, with our family. We're going to take care of you from now on." Satisfied he'd said his piece, he rose and left the room, Eddie and Rachel both watching him leave.

Disheartened, Rachel turned her gaze towards the rapidly cooling gruel.

"Sorry about him," Eddie said with a sheepish smile, "A-Anyway, my name's Eddie. I don't think we ever caught yours." Rachel looked up at him, her face as devoid of emotion as ever.

"Rachel," she replied mechanically. "Rachel Gardner." His face lit up at the information.

"What a pretty name! It's nice to meet you, Rachel," he chimed, leaning towards her as she began to eat. "You had a fever when we found you, so we brought you home to our mother. Where are you from?" Rachel chewed. She was in no particular hurry to answer him.

"North of here," she answered quietly. "A small town called Tanay." Eddie's eyes lit up.

"That's pretty far from here!" he offered cordially. "We haven't gone that far out yet this year!" Rachel quirked an eyebrow at this admission.

"Gone?" she asked. "Do you travel?" At this, his face lit up again.

"We go where we're needed," he chimed, "We help bury the bodies wherever the pestilence comes through. We also go out hunting when we get a chance. The people who get sick don't have the strength to hunt, so we sell them meat. We live far out enough that we don't have to worry much about catching that illness again." Rachel was fully attentive now. That illness had spread?

"It's here, too?" she asked, feeling queasy. It was one thing to have wiped her own town off the map. It was another that it had spread this far south.

"Oh yes," Eddie said with a nod. "Before he caught it, our Father told us that it comes up from Lombardy and the Piedmont every dozen or so years and sweeps the countryside like a fire. When it comes through, our family dons our masks and helps to bury the dead. Pretty noble, right?" Eddie was obviously proud of his family's tradition, but Rachel was busy processing what he'd told her. If it was true it came from the south, then she may not have caused it after all.

She didn't know how to handle that information. If that was the case, and God hadn't sent the sickness to smite her town as punishment, then was it really still right for her to not want to live in this world? The prospect of continuing to live, surrounded by other humans, filled her with despair and anxiety. Even as nice as Eddie and his mother seemed to be, Rachel didn't really want to stay with them. Especially knowing that Zack was out there somewhere in the snow without her.

"Er, are you okay?"

Eddie's voice sounded very far away, but Rachel barely acknowledged him. She was worried about Zack. Did he have enough to eat? Was he warm? Would he be back for her? Or was it possibly true that he'd abandoned her?

"It's okay, Rachel," Eddie said, laying a hand on her covered legs to reassure her. "You're still pretty ill, so just rest up for today. You can just stay in here and get better, alright?"

Rachel nodded mutely. She had a lot to think about. In short order, Eddie also left the room, leaving Rachel in now-unfamiliar silence.

The hours ticked by as Rachel mostly kept to the bed, rising only to use the chamber pot. She could slowly feel her strength returning. The matron – Rachel found out her name was Mrs. Mason – brought her medicine and dinner. By the time the sun went down, Rachel was well enough to get up, walk across the room, and open the standing wardrobe beside the window. Sure enough, that was where her black overdress was hung. Then she turned to look out the window.

The ground was white as far as she could see through the slats. They seemed to be in a small clearance in a forest; she had no way to regain her bearings relative to where they were. Even if she could find Zack again, continuing to help him navigate would be difficult.

Thinking of Zack still, she scanned the landscape looking for his footprints or any other sign of him. There was nothing; only the tracks of a wagon and the boot prints of the Mason sons. But thinking of him made Rachel slightly nervous.

She didn't want to stop traveling with Zack. She didn't believe what Albert had said; she knew Zack better than that. But the fact that he had lied so blatantly – and Eddie hadn't contradicted him – meant that he wasn't dead and he surely hadn't abandoned her… and that they had to know what had happened to him.

But at the same time, if she hadn't been the cause of the illness that had destroyed her town, did she really have a right to ask Zack to eat her? It was entirely possible that she could simply stay with the Mason family after making sure he was okay. She could have a family – a real one – and live among humans again. She wouldn't have to worry about getting sick from the cold or being hungry.

But then why did that thought make her heart hurt so much?

Rachel was so busy mulling over the strange ache in her chest that she hardly noticed the door to her room open. The lights were low since she hadn't lit any lamps yet, but the fireplace glowed enough that she could still see reasonably well across the room at her new guest. It was the oldest Mason son, Albert. He was halfway across the room before Rachel really noticed him. It seemed that he'd removed his boots and gloves.

"Hey there," he acknowledged quietly, slinking around the edge of the bed to approach her.

"Oh," Rachel responded flatly. "Hello again." Out of everyone she'd met today, she liked this man the least. Maybe it was the way he'd laughed at his younger brother earlier, or maybe it was the fact that he'd lied to her without hesitation, but Rachel certainly didn't trust him. And she certainly didn't trust the glint in his eyes as he moved into her personal space.

"I see you're feeling better," Albert said, drawing even with Rachel at the window sill. He was a bit too close; she backed up a half-step out of reflex.

"Yes, thank you," she replied dully. Really, Rachel just wanted him to hurry up and leave. Instead, he placed a hand beside her on the wall and leaned in, caging her. He leaned forward with a seemingly kind smile, but the context of the situation made it incredibly unsettling.

"How do you like the room here?" he asked, reaching over to tip her chin up with his fingers. When she tried to move away, his grip tightened to hold her in place.

"It's fine," she said softly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

"So our mother has offered to let you stay with us," he purred. "We would all be grateful for the company, especially since we hardly see cute girls anymore. I'd be most grateful of all…" Rachel's heart sank. She knew what Albert was probably getting at and she was completely uninterested. It reminded her of her hometown.

"Thank you for the hospitality," she replied as politely as possible, "But I'm well enough to travel now. If you don't mind, I'd like to leave in the morning." She hoped he'd back off, but this seemed to have the opposite effect; Albert leaned in instead.

"You want to go look for that wolf?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a chill down Rachel's spine. She froze and didn't let any reaction show on her face. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Albert chuckled.

"Is that the kind of man you like?" he asked, breathing into her ear. "Or should I say dog? Hey, is it true that their pricks-"

"Albert."

He didn't move away, but he did stop. Rachel glanced over his shoulder to see Eddie standing in the doorway.

"I'm busy, Eddie," came the response without breaking eye contact with Rachel.

"Mother needs you," the younger man stated firmly. He stood his ground and actually stepped forward into the room. Albert looked like he was debating whether to tell him to shove off for another few seconds before he clearly decided against it.

"Fine," he growled, releasing Rachel with a snap of his hand. He tossed her another look and a smirk over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

"Don't worry, honey," he purred, voice like dark velvet. "I'll see you later." Rachel wasn't really scared, but she was certainly unhappy that her suspicions about the eldest Mason brother had been well-founded. As he left the room, he gave his brother a shove with his shoulder. It didn't knock Eddie off his feet, but he certainly swayed a bit.

As the door snapped shut, Eddie stepped further into the room. Rachel could see that his coveralls were a bit dirtier than before.

"I'm sorry about him, Rachel," he said sheepishly. "Please excuse my brother. He can be pushy, but he's not a bad person." Rachel was wholly uninterested in Albert or whatever excuses his family had for him.

"I see," she said, her reply non-committal, "What have you been doing? Your clothes are dirty." Eddie's face seemed to light up. Rachel couldn't begin to imagine why.

"You noticed!" he chirped, before laughing shyly, "Eh heh, sorry! I just had to deal with the animals out back. It's no big deal." Rachel gave him another glance and saw a few drops of blood on his right pant leg. He didn't seem to be injured, though. Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't mention it.

"Alright," she continued quietly. "Eddie, I think I'm well enough to travel again. I want to leave in the morning." His expression fell. He was much more emotive than his brother, letting his distress paint his face.

"No, you can't!" he exclaimed. A second later he schooled his expression. "I mean, it's way too cold to travel right now! You at least have to stay until spring! And… maybe then, you'll want to stay longer!" Rachel sincerely doubted it, but Eddie's earnestness was hard to deny.

"Ah," Rachel gave a neutral answer. Secretly, though, her mind was working through the situation. She was mostly recovered from the exposure that had made her sick the day before, but she would still need a good night's sleep before she would be fit to travel again. But there was no way she was going to sleep without blocking the doorway, with how Albert had just acted.

"Don't worry," Eddie said kindly, moving over to take Rachel's hands in his. He still had those cold gloves on, their texture making Rachel slightly uneasy. "I'll keep an eye on Albert so that he stays away, alright? And I'll keep him out of here so you'll be more comfortable. That way you can just rest and get better!" Eddie's voice was so sweet and sincere that Rachel nearly let her guard down. Maybe he was being bullied into lying to her by Albert? Whatever the case, certainly Eddie wasn't her enemy.

"Alright," she acquiesced. Eddie gave her another bright smile before releasing her hands.

"Mother's making supper right now," he chimed. "She'll bring you some by in a little while, alright? You look pretty thin, so we'll give you extra if you want!" She nodded, already weary of the company. Eddie didn't seem to notice; he disappeared out the door a few moments later, humming happily to himself.

Rachel wasn't used to that kind of overbearing kindness. It was too much for her, like a rich dessert. Her entire life until that sickness took hold of her had been lived in cold indifference from those around her. She could tolerate Zack's company; she actually enjoyed it. His gruff manner and lack of coddling suited her, and she missed his bouts of awkward gentleness.

The wayward thought of him made her chest ache; the Masons were hiding something about him from her. It was true that they'd only known each other for a few weeks. It was also true that Zack could be in turns taciturn and noisy, grumpy and sweet, awkward and yet utterly confident of himself. But the idea of abandoning him to whatever fate he'd fallen into, that didn't sit well with her.

But while others in the house were awake, Rachel had no choice but to play along.

"Yes, of course we'll take good care of him~!"

The middle-aged human woman stroked Zack's ears, her long nails scraping the roots of his fur. It felt nice, especially as he was still recovering from the burns on his face. Maybe this would be a better situation than the one he'd come from with his mother and her new mate.

The black-haired wolf bitch smiled sharply at the human couple who had agreed to take Zack in. In exchange for some light work, they'd provide him food and shelter, and his mother would be free to have a new litter. She leaned forward, extending her claws to smooth down Zack's hair. As her lips drew even with his ear, she whispered low enough that the human woman wouldn't be able to hear.

"This whole time," her words pricked him like a knife, "I've wished you and your brothers were never born. I should have killed you when I killed them." His breath caught in his throat as she leaned back again, smile still in place. At that moment, Zack realized that some small part of him had held out hope that his mother at least didn't hate him. But that part died then, too.

He couldn't follow what all happened next. He couldn't remember their goodbye. He was in a daze as they loaded him into their wagon. Before he knew it, the sun had gone down and they had arrived at his new home.

It was a cottage on the outskirts of a human village. It was nothing special; Zack wasn't used to human dens, so he had no point of reference to know how normal it was.

As he trudged along behind the pair, they mounted the wooden porch of their house and opened the front door. Just as Zack attempted to go inside, the man extended a hand and held him back.

"Dogs don't come inside," the husband said with a caustic smirk. "You're going to sleep out here and watch the house." Maybe Zack was tired from his trip, but he didn't understand exactly what this meant.

"Watch… the house?"

"Is your head as fucked up as your face? Watch. The. House. Protect it from thieves. Why'd you think we bought you, mutt? If you wanna eat, you'll earn your keep and be our guard dog."

With a laugh, the door swung shut behind the humans.

Months passed with Zack sleeping on the porch. It was cold out when he first came, but winter turned to spring and then eventually summer. The threadbare blanket he'd been given grew dirtier and thinner as the months wore on, but since it was warmer out, he didn't need it as much.

Food was always a problem, though. When Zack was fed at all, it was always scraps or old rancid food that had gone bad in the pantry. He might go a week without eating. At one point, the husband had even put gunpowder into his food in a twisted attempt to toughen him up. It was all horrible, but Zack ate it anyway. It was either that or starve. The couple seemed to believe that all this would make him a more vicious guard dog. It mostly just made him tired and weak.

He took most of this without complaint. What else could he do? He wasn't old enough to hunt and he had no idea how to get by on his own. So he lived with it.

Of course, it wasn't like he could go anywhere anyway. Not long after he arrived, they'd put him on a chain with a collar around his neck. He had eaten one of their chickens in a fit of hunger and that had necessitated a collar with inward facing spikes; if he pulled too hard on his chain, he'd find it digging into his skin. The other end of the chain was anchored to the wooden porch. He just hadn't been able to break the wooden porch spoke just yet.

That particular summer evening, Zack didn't even lift his head when the man of the house came in. He delivered the whelp a casual kick to the midsection as he crossed the threshold; he must have been returning home from an evening of drinking at the tavern. Zack laid there, trying to ignore the pain from the kick and the pain from his empty stomach. As the man called to his wife, Zack listened idly.

"Listen to this!" the man laughed to his wife. "One of the merchants coming through tonight told me about a girl he knew about fifteen years ago. Got mixed up with one of those dog men."

"Oh, disgusting!" the wife answered back. "Don't tell me, when you say mixed up, do you mean…?" Zack could hear the sneer in the man's voice as he answered.

"Probably a dogfucker," he continued. "That's hardly here nor there. Apparently, he ate her mother and grandmother and was about to make off with her when a huntsman came through and cut him open! Outright gutted the bastard!" Zack's eyes stared out at nothing. Night had fallen and his vision had already adjusted to the lack of light, but it was almost like he was blind. Was what the man said true? Had a wolf actually eaten humans? The other thing he said, about mating with a human, Zack couldn't think of anything less appealing. The only humans he knew were inside on the couch, failing for the ninth straight day in a row to feed him.

"Oh, the poor girl," the wife nattered on. "But that's what she gets for treating those animals like people. Well, don't keep me in suspense! What happened to her?"

"Married the huntsman, of course," he replied, "Probably tryin' ta save her reputation or whatnot. Said they had three or four kids together by now."

"He's either a doormat or a complete dunce!"

The two laughed cheerily, the noise grating in Zack's ears. But he barely heard them. He knew exactly what he had to do. He had never even given it a thought before, but if what that man said was true….

…humans were as much prey as that chicken he'd eaten.

The woman stayed up a little later than the man, tidying up the place. But eventually she followed her husband to bed. The chain was easy enough to pull out from the splintered wooden porch rail after all, and he could deal with the choke collar staying around his neck without the chain being anchored to the porch. He was so light and thin at that point that his footsteps were nearly silent except for the quiet jingling of the chain.

Zack ate very well that night. It was the most filling meal he'd ever had in his life.

"Wake up, mutt!"

Zack felt himself dragged back to the present from the snarled command and the kick to the chest. There was no mystery as to why he'd been dreaming about those two humans. History was repeating itself.

His vision swam but he managed to focus on the man standing in front of him. It was the taller of the two medics that he'd flagged down for help the night before. They were both redheads; the older of the two seemed more badly tempered, if his yelling and kicking was any indication.

Under normal circumstances, he'd have ripped this asshole's throat out and eaten it. Of course, these humans had been clever enough to cut that off at the pass. While he was knocked out from that drugged wine, they'd shackled and chained both arms and legs down to the ground. To add insult to injury, they'd even muffled his mouth; with no claws and no fangs, he was mostly defenseless.

Before he'd awoken, they had chained him into their stables. He had his own stall at least, and it was enough to keep the snow off of him, but it wasn't like that was any kind of comfort. It was still cold, it still smelled of horse dung, and the beatings he'd so far received made the whole experience considerably less pleasant.

The smirk of the man before him was also unpleasant. Zack hadn't seen that expression on a human in a while. It certainly made him hungry but it mostly made him angry. He wanted to wipe that obnoxious smile off his smug face.

"I just got back from talking to that girl you were with," the redhead taunted. Zack's eyes narrowed. Rachel was in their house, then. But listening to this guy talk about her made his blood boil. If he or his brother touched a hair on her head, Zack would make sure they suffered when he finally got out of those chains and ate them. All Zack could manage with the muzzle on his jaw, though, was a rumbling growl.

"Hey, don't get angry!" he continued, reaching a hand over to ruffle Zack's fur. "We're taking very good care of her. In fact…" His fingers tugged at Zack's hair, pulling his head up to look him in the eyes.

"…she's going to be staying with us from now on."

White hot fury boiled up within Zack. Maybe it was the smug tone or the self-satisfied expression, but he wanted to rend this bastard limb from limb. He strained against his chains, feeling his skin tear where the shackles were digging in. They held firm in the ground and the wood of the stables, though.

"There, there, mutt," the man chimed, "I'll take good care of her, don't you worry. If you're really good, I might even let you see her before I sell you off! Or… I might let you hear us together, eh? I bet she'll be really loud when I stick it in her, won't she?" Zack's head spun with red haze. What was he trying to say he would do with Rachel? What was he implying?! Zack was never very bright, but he was fairly certain he got the gist of it. Worse, the way he was taunting him told Zack that he thought there was something more between the two of them than there was.

Still, the thought of this human bastard even talking to Rachel was enough to make him foam at the mouth. He would never touch a human girl, but that didn't mean he wanted her to be touched by anyone else.

"Did you know?" he continued, tugging at Zack's hair and pulling his head along with it. "She said she's happy to stay with me. She even thanked us for saving her from you!"

The force that Zack put on his chains at this proclamation caused the walls of the stable to shake. It wasn't just what the redhead was saying. It was that Zack knew for certain it was a lie. And he hated being lied to.

He was so busy struggling against his chains that he hardly noticed the tall man reach for a shovel. With a wicked grin, he lifted it over his head.

"Don't believe me? Don't worry - you'll see soon enough."

Just as Zack noticed what he was doing, the shovel slammed into his skull hard enough to drive him to the ground. But he had lost consciousness before he even hit it.