Rachel's eyes focused on the wolves surrounding her and Zack. There were five or six of them – they weren't all easy to see – but they didn't seem ready to attack them. As the red haze cleared from the edges of her vision, she saw them crouching to tend to Zack.

"Step back, little sister," the one who'd touched her shoulder asked. "Let Brother Jean-Gabriel work." His voice was kind but firm; the fur peeking out from the hood of his brown cloak was wavy and black to match his ears. Rachel cast one more concerned look towards the wolf crouching over Zack; he had sandy blond ears and a fair complexion, his sweet face tense with concentration. Then she moved back, just enough to be out of the way; she didn't want to be far away from Zack, though. If she'd learned anything over the past half-month, it was that her trust of outsiders shouldn't be freely given.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly as she looked up at the black-haired wolf. "But who are you lot?" As she spoke, the other wolves were busying themselves by taking apart their little campsite; they took down the blankets Zack had hung and gathered their supplies, wrapping them back into their bundles. The blond wolf, meanwhile, worked on Zack's wound, stabilizing it to keep it clean and prevent more blood loss.

"We're Brothers of Mercy," he answered calmly, laying his clawed hand back on her shoulder to guide her farther away. "We minister to travelers in need. The pass here is treacherous in winter, although I can't say we've had many with injuries like that." Rachel glanced back at Zack; Jean-Gabriel was wrapping him tightly in one of their blankets, swaddling him and then binding him down with straps. Her first instinct was to rush over and stop him, but she quickly realized that he was securing him to move him from the campsite.

"Where are you taking him?" Rachel cut to the chase. She refused to let him be separated from her again, especially after the incident with the Masons. The black-haired wolf didn't seem to have taken offense.

"Our compound is on the mountain," he answered placidly, "We have an infirmary to treat him there." Rachel stood as Jean-Gabriel hoisted Zack over his shoulder like a sack of wheat before settling him over Paul's back. Another wolf, this one brunette, soothed the horse's skittish nerves as they secured Zack and fixed the saddle onto the horse.

"I'm coming, too," she said firmly, with just as much conviction as she felt. The black-haired wolf nodded.

"They're saddling the horse for you, little sister," he observed. "We don't need the mount, but you surely wouldn't want to leave him behind." Rachel watched the wolves, a faint crease of worry folding nearly imperceptibly between her brows.

"You're holy men, right?" she asked as the wolf with wavy hair began guiding her over to Paul. "Will it be okay for me to be in your compound? I'm…" The wolf nodded his understanding as he gestured for her to mount the horse. Rachel was used to having Zack help her up into the saddle due to her diminutive stature; she gave her new companion a pleading look before continuing.

"Umm, could you please help me up?"

He startled a second before nodding and hesitantly wrapping his hands respectfully around her waist and hoisting her into the saddle.

"It should be fine," he said with a little cough. "Our residents are all male, but we turn no one in need of help away. We've had families before and have a separate dwelling for them." As they began moving, going deeper into the woods and up the hillside, Rachel cast him a wary look.

"Ah, I… I think there's been a misunderstanding," she said reluctantly. The black-haired wolf walked easily alongside the horse, looking up at Rachel with the moonlight flashing off his yellow eyes. His expression was open and curious, non-judgmental; Rachel wasn't sure how he would react to their situation, though.

"Are you not Brother Isaac's bond-mate?"

Rachel felt some heat rise to her cheeks and wanted to hide her face behind her sleeves. She didn't know what "bonding" was exactly; Eddie had mentioned that, too, and she thought she heard Mrs. Mason say something about it to Zack while she was out of the room getting her things. Her best guess was that it was something like marriage. Little wonder this wolf assumed such a thing.

"No, we…" How to explain their situation? That she wanted to die and Zack offered to keep her with him until he was hungry enough to eat her? That this arrangement might be nearly ready to change? That they were just friends or traveling companions or might be on the cusp of something more?

"A-Ah, I just assumed because, well," the wolf stammered, looking out to the dark woods, "You see, his scent is very strong on you and your things…" The other wolves seemed to be giving them a courtesy distance to talk in semi-privacy, but she was sure they could hear them just fine.

"We sleep together," she said plainly. After reconsidering for a few moments, realizing it didn't sound like she wanted it to, she continued. "Err, for… for warmth, when it's cold." The wolf coughed, probably from embarrassment.

"Well, in any case," he moved on, "The Father will want to speak with you." Rachel felt guilt lance her, as though she had something to be ashamed of, outside of her usual portion of guilt, anyway. As silence stretched between them, something the wolf had said twice now prompted her to move the conversation forward.

"You called him 'Brother Isaac'," she said pointedly. "How do you know him?" They emerged from the copse of trees, onto a small, packed dirt road set into the side of the mountain. They were this close to another path and she hadn't realized it. She wondered if Zack had.

"Ah," her guide said, seemingly eager for the change of subject. "Brother Isaac stayed with us here years ago. He was an unruly pup when he was here and gave the older brothers a terrible time. Our Father wanted him to stay and take vows, but he, ahh…" He trailed off, as though he was reluctant to tell Rachel more. She nodded her understanding; she'd find out eventually, she was sure.

In any event, she now understood from where Zack had gotten his rough, brown hooded cloak. The brothers wore similar ones.

"I see," she replied. Then, almost to herself, "So his name is really Isaac." It was pretty, with a certain lilt to it. It was a Biblical name, like hers; the son of Abraham, famous for his sacrifice and last-minute rescue. For someone so gruff and stand-offish, such a soft and gentle name was a marked contrast.

"Mm," the wolf confirmed. "Yes, his name is Isaac. He must have asked you to call him Zack?" Rachel nodded her affirmation.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm Rachel Gardner, by the way." The yellow-eyed wolf cast her a pleasant smile.

"Brother Jean-Michel," he answered in kind. "We don't have much rigid hierarchy here, but our pack's leader is Father Gray. He'll see you once we settle Brother Isaac in." Rachel bit back her concerns and distrust and continued on with them. The placid wolves were easy to trust; none of them moved too fast or made much noise, leaving the woods around them undisturbed. She was sure they must hunt sometime, but for now they were simple penitents with their rough, plain robes and bare feet. Whatever discomfort she felt, she pushed aside; for Zack's sake, she could trust them.

Following the dirt road, they quickly made their way up the mountainside. This was the closest she'd been to openly traveling a proper road in a long time; when she lived with her parents, the errands she ran for her father to the doctor's cabin on the edge of the woods were the only time she really went along the road. That poor doctor who'd succumbed to that terrible illness, but who had also perhaps deserved it. But it was best not to think of that too much; it was over and all had received their divine punishment.

All but her.

She had a moment to think over her situation with a bit more contemplation while they traveled. Rachel would not receive any punishment, divine or otherwise, from Zack. Even if he wanted to kill her now, he wouldn't have the capacity, and she no longer wanted that anyway. But she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted from him now, either. She only knew that she wanted to stay with him.

But if these friars took him back, would he stay here? He had said once before that the leader here was a kind sort who could point him to a new territory, but that he had no intention of staying at the monastery. But seeing them now, seeing their kindness and placidity, their gentle nature, their calm demeanor, Rachel couldn't help but think that they could win anyone over. She could also see why a hothead like Zack wouldn't fit in there.

Suddenly, one by one, the wolves began baying. It wasn't overly loud or frightening; in fact, Rachel felt somewhat comforted by the sound. It started with their companion furthest away from Rachel and Zack, with the howls rippling towards them. Eventually, Jean-Michel howled too, causing Paul to hesitate just a bit. The horse had probably seen much worse, though, as he barely missed a step once Rachel soothed him with a pat. From behind her in the bundle on the horse's backside, Zack coughed and did his best to respond. Rather than a proud howl, though, he was reduced to something between a whine and a wheeze. In the distance down the road, a sole howl called back in response.

Even if it sounded weak, Rachel couldn't help but realize she was the only one who couldn't respond. She huddled into her cloak, feeling her otherness fully for perhaps the first time. It wasn't just that she was a girl and they were men, or even that they were wolves and she was not. It was that there were things she didn't understand and probably wouldn't be able to; even more so, those were things integral to Zack as a person. Was this how he felt when they were around the Masons and he was the only wolf?

Rachel didn't really think so. Zack never seemed to doubt himself. He took in his situation, made his decision, and carried it out. He was like this even when his decision was wrong or utterly dangerous or landed him on the back of a horse with a hole in his gut. She envied that kind of decisiveness, as well as his confidence; if she had been able to be that assertive, maybe things wouldn't have gone as badly as they had for her.

With these morose thoughts swirling through her head, Rachel realized they were approaching a large wooden gate. She looked up to see the reflective eyes of the wolf standing atop the watchtower, who had opened the gate. Taking a moment to turn back and pat Zack's bundle, she reassured him.

"We're here, Zack," she whispered.

As soon as they were through the gates, there was a flurry of activity. A pair of auburn-haired wolves, seemingly related by the appearance of their faces, pulled Rachel gently from the saddle and the brunette from earlier soothed the horse. A fourth wolf - Jean-Gabriel – unloaded Zack from the horse's rump and carried him over his shoulder towards one of the buildings. As Rachel followed them with her eyes, she began to move after them only to be stopped by the two wolves who'd helped her down.

"No, sister," one explained gently, pulling her in a different direction. "We have to let Jean-Gabriel work. We'll show you to the family quarters instead." Rachel's brows pinched as she was made to follow.

"But that's…"

"Don't worry," the other brother soothed, "He'll take good care of your bond-mate." She didn't dare correct them this time, instead taking one last look at where Jean-Gabriel was taking Zack. Looking forward, she could see their compound was full of wooden buildings, the front being mostly packed dirt with a few patches of dried vegetables that had recently finished their season. The one she seemed to be headed towards was a small wooden cabin set away from the main compound to the side of the grounds, around the back of the fence that the gate was set into.

"You'll like the family quarters, Ma'am," the wolf on her right chimed gently, "It's got a nice fireplace and we've even got a nice bed prepared in it!" Rachel felt more nervous than ever.

"I… You don't have to call me 'Ma'am'," she stammered nervously.

"Don't be silly," the one on the left said, "It's been a while since we saw Brother Isaac, so we want to treat his girl right!" Before Rachel could protest, the one on the right corrected him.

"Jean-Marc, you can't say it like that!" he hissed, "The right word is 'bond-mate'!" The one named Jean-Marc stuck out his tongue before replying.

"So what!" he barked under his breath, "Shut up, Jean-Luc! You're not the boss of me! Besides, she's a human, so the actual word is 'wife'!" It was too much for Rachel. She had to speak up.

"Boys, please," she said nervously. "We're not…" It fell on deaf ears, though, as the two brothers continued to bicker.

"See, you're scaring her!" Jean-Luc continued scolding. "You have to be gentle and respectful around girls! Especially human girls! Otherwise they'll be nervous!"

"She's with Brother Isaac!" Jean-Marc bandied back, "It's not like she'd be offended by anything we could say! Hey, sister!" Rachel was nearly startled as she'd been totally spoken over until this point.

"Umm, yes?" she answered.

"How did you wind up with him anyway?" the precocious wolfling asked. "Doesn't he hate humans?" Rachel thought he couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen; that probably explained why he was so blunt. In short order, though, his brother shushed him.

"Jean-Marc!" Jean-Luc hissed. "You can't just tell her he hates humans! I-It's okay, Ma'am! He definitely doesn't hate you!"

"Not with how his scent is all over her," Jean-Marc said nearly under his breath. Rachel felt dizzy; she couldn't figure out her own feelings, let alone whatever these pups were implying. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry or wanted to yell. Instead, she opted to keep her expression frozen; even if she was falling apart on the inside, it was best to just not let it show.

The two pups continued bickering as they approached the small cabin, but Rachel blocked them out. It was too stressful to keep listening to their argument, especially with Zack in the state he was in. It also didn't help that Rachel herself wasn't entirely sure just what they were to each other at the moment. "Bond-mates" didn't seem right, though.

Finally they reached the modest cabin. There was no porch and as the boys showed her in, she could see that the furnishings were also modest. There appeared to be only one room, but it also held a fireplace with a cookpot along with a large bed and a pair of rocking chairs. Had the two of them been a small family, perhaps with a child, it would have been a perfectly nice place to stay; even as they were, Rachel could imagine staying cozily with Zack here for a few days to rest. It was dangerously tempting.

"You can relax here for a little while," she finally heard Jean-Luc say. "Father Gray will be in shortly to talk with you."

"Don't be scared," Jean-Marc reassured her, "He looks old and cranky, but he's actually very nice!" As if on cue, another set of footsteps entered the cabin behind the two pups. Rachel could clearly see the taller wolf behind them, even as they realized they'd been caught being a bit improper with their guest. A firm, clawed hand landed on each pup's shoulder, letting them know for certain who was there.

"Have you helped our guest settle in, pups?"

His voice was deep and steady, like a great river. Rachel's expression barely changed, but her eyes certainly widened. The stately wolf standing behind his charges had his hood down, revealing a full pate of silver hair, right down to the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes seemed to reflect the light in much the same way as the younger wolves, but they seemed clouded and milky, making Rachel wonder if perhaps he had trouble seeing.

He certainly had no trouble navigating, though.

"Yes, Father Gray," they replied in perfect unison, one sounding abashed and the other sounding just slightly embarrassed. The older wolf, Father Gray, smiled at them both before shooing them away.

"Thank you for your help, Jean-Luc, Jean-Marc," he said calmly. "Please go see if Jean-Raphael needs any help in the stable. I'll see to our guest." Although there were chairs and a bed, Rachel didn't dare sit; as far as she knew, this wolf was Zack's father-figure and regardless of anything else, she wanted to make a good impression. As soon as the pups were clear of the room with the door shut behind them, she gathered her skirts and bowed a small curtsey.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," she recited. Something about the very presence of this elder wolf unnerved her, although Rachel would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was. As she looked up again, she noticed both his indulgent smile – as though he were observing a precocious child – and his remarkable scent. Had he carried that fragrance into the room with him? It was nearly strong enough to make Rachel's eyes water, but it wasn't a bad smell; on the contrary, it was sweet, almost sickeningly so. It reminded her of spring flowers: lilies, daffodils, hyacinths and the like, with some other spicy fragrance like oleander or monkshood underneath.

Whatever it was, Rachel's vision blurred at the edges and that fragrance was most likely the cause. As the door was closed and the air could no longer circulate, the scent only grew stronger.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Rachel Gardner," the silver wolf finally replied. It seemed like she'd been waiting forever, but before she could even move to reply, he had already made his way to the fireplace. In a few more moments, he had lit a fire there, all while Rachel looked on, dumbfounded.

"Finally?" she asked, speaking the first thought that came to her mind.

"Oh yes," Gray replied patiently. "The whole congregation has been in an uproar ever since they caught scent of you and Isaac this morning. Were that we could have met you under better circumstances." Rachel's mind felt as though she were in a fog. It took her just a moment to catch up to what the elder had just said.

"Ah," was the dutiful reply. "Zack said earlier that he wanted to come here, I think. He wanted to speak with you about finding new territory." Why was she speaking so much? Surely Zack would tell him himself when he felt better. Maybe it was just a compulsion to make small talk, to fill the empty, heavily scented air with conversation. But it felt different somehow, as though she couldn't lie to this wolf at all.

That idea subtly terrified her.

"I see," he said, standing from the fireplace. "Is he looking to start a little pack of his own now?" The fire roared to life in the grate and Rachel forced herself to sit on the edge of the bed to keep from tipping over at the suggestion. She wanted to be indignant about the continued misunderstanding, but it was perfectly understandable why the wolves were so insistent upon it. To them, they certainly must seem like a pair of besotted newlyweds, especially if they'd seen Zack first thing that morning.

"N-No," she stammered lightly. "It's not that. His old territory – my town – they all died of illness. He had no choice but to leave." As he sat across from her on one of the rocking chairs, Gray drew something out of his brown sleeves. The light from the fireplace twinkled on the chains of the censer, fragrant smoke roiling from between the voids in the bronze vessel. He set it on the table between the chairs to allow it to more fully permeate the air. Rachel simply watched, mesmerized; had he just performed a service that required it?

"But for a wolf like Isaac, who has such antipathy towards all females, and doubly so towards humans, to be keeping company with a human girl," the old wolf purposefully said, "Well, surely you can understand my curiosity. What sort of woman could master our untamable Isaac?"

Rachel wanted to protest, to deny she had 'tamed' him at all. Certainly it didn't feel like it, when he did things like getting himself gored by a deer. But it was undeniable that he treated her specially; he even treated her differently from when he had first found her. He allowed her all sorts of liberties that he'd never give to any other human. He allowed her to light fires to stay warm, over his own fears and objections. He even allowed her to sleep beside him, even when it caused him embarrassment and inconvenience.

Rachel's mouth had gone dry and her eyelids drooped. Why did she suddenly feel so sleepy? Her head fell forward for a moment before she slouched over onto the end of the bed. Breathing deeply, taking in even more of that smoke, she could see the old wolf staring pointedly at her from his chair with his glossy eyes.

"I'll hear your confession now, little sister."

Rachel's world was all white.

She didn't know how long she'd been in this hazy, white place. It was almost as though she'd woken up there, but she also had the impression of being drawn slowly into consciousness, as though she had been fractured and put back together. While her surroundings seemed like a snow field – cold, white, and barren – she couldn't dismiss the feeling that she wasn't alone either. And turning to look behind her, her suspicions were confirmed.

The other being with her was at once familiar and foreign. Her white dress, long and pristine as a christening gown, nearly blended into the environment entirely. Her ivory skin likewise barely distinguished itself from its surroundings. The silver-blonde hair very nearly provided a relief for Rachel's eyes, but it too was nearly blinding. In fact, the only part of the girl before her that she was able to look at for very long was her eyes: ice blue and cold, even as they seemed to be smiling.

Rachel recognized the apparition as herself.

"What are you?"

The girl smiled.

"I'm you," she answered in Rachel's voice. "The part of you that you've hidden until now, that's been drug out of the shadows." Rachel's eyes narrowed as the girl sat herself regally in midair, perched on nothing. It had to be a strange dream, brought on by that heady incense.

"What do you want?" she pressed on, fairly certain she already knew the answer. Her reflection cupped her chin in her graceful little hand and peered out at Rachel with her jewel-like eyes.

"I could ask you the very same question," the mimic returned. "What is it you're trying to get out of Isaac? That's what I'm here to determine – if you're a threat to him or not." Rachel was very nearly too stunned to answer.

"I'm not trying to get anything from him," she said meekly. She instinctively moved to cover her chest as though guarding her heart. Whatever this spirit was, she certainly got right to the point.

"Oh, come now," the other chided and her eyes danced with mirth, "Someone as utilitarian as you, who only sees human interaction as giving and taking, must want something from him?" Almost as if floating, the white girl descended to where Rachel knelt and placed a hand on either side of her face. It was nearly shocking to see such a familiar face with such an unfamiliar expression. Rather than the blank look that Rachel usually had, her doppelganger had a soft, alluring smile. Was this really the her inside herself?

"I only want…"

But she found she couldn't answer. Whether it was from lack of knowledge or lack of ability to articulate, Rachel wasn't quite sure. But she didn't know how to answer that question. What did she expect from Zack? Why did she stay by his side? Was it only out of self-preservation? She had wanted him to kill her and end her suffering, but she wasn't even sure of that anymore. Even though she didn't want that exactly anymore, she didn't know what she did want.

It was also true that the spirit had assessed her correctly. Rachel really did only see herself in relation to how useful she could be towards others, and vice-versa. 'Useless', 'worthless', 'parasite', these were all things she'd heard enough to recognize them as her own traits. As the other her stared into her eyes, Rachel saw the flicker of satisfaction as she began to follow along.

Because if that was true of how she saw herself, then on some level, surely she saw Zack that way, too.

"Then what is it you get from him?" the other Rachel asked again. "A sense of power? That you have a big, strong wolf to protect you now? You're only a weak little girl, but with him around you have nothing to fear, right?" Rachel began to protest, but the words died in her throat. It was true that when she was with Zack, she felt invincible, as though no one could hurt her again. A pang of guilt lanced her; hadn't Zack been the one to get hurt instead of her?

The images flashed through her mind. Zack getting hurt by Cathy and then by the Masons. Those nightmares he had. His latest gash across his belly. Weren't those injuries all indirectly caused by her?

"Or is it that you're trying to escape responsibility by pushing it all off onto him?" the twin continued. "After all, if he kills you like you wanted, then you've pushed your sin off onto him and you'll be free to ascend to heaven, right?" Rachel felt her heart squeeze in her chest; that was exactly why she wanted him to kill her. After all, suicide was a sin and there was no one who would bother to pray for her soul. She'd be condemned to Purgatory or maybe even Hell forever if she took her own life.

But then who would be left to pray for Zack? To take care of him? To make sure he cleaned his wounds and stayed out of trouble? It felt hollow. Surely she needed him more than he needed a weak, scrawny girl like her. She had nothing to offer him that he needed.

"I really am selfish," she said softly, head hanging. Rachel thought of her mother then; she had always scolded her for being selfish. Whenever she troubled the woman, the familiar refrain would ring: don't be selfish, Rachel. If she didn't want to be selfish, she had to give, just like her mother; give and give until nothing was left but a hollow hole that had no choice but to start taking back. But because Rachel had nothing to give and didn't want to take selfishly, she chose instead to do nothing either way. If there were no good options, all she could do was refuse to pick any.

And so she was stuck. A girl who couldn't become a woman because there was no good way to become a woman. A traveling companion who couldn't become more to Zack because she couldn't figure out how to give and take without hurting him or herself.

The duplicate released her face and stood, walking away from her.

"You are," the other Rachel replied. "You are a terrible, selfish girl. But that's not what makes you a danger, is it?"

Rachel's head snapped up as she saw the duplicate smile coldly at her. She stumbled to her feet to follow after her.

"Stop it," she huffed softly.

"I won't," the double continued, walking backwards as Rachel closed in on her. "You know what it was that you did."

"Don't-!"

"And the reason you're a danger-"

"I'm not!"

"—to Isaac."

Rachel had a hold of the other girl's neck. She'd stop her from spilling out her sin, no matter what. She felt certain that if her copycat said her secret out loud, that Father Gray would hear it for sure.

"You can kill me here," she said with a smile, "But I already know what you did. And that's why I can't allow you to continue traveling with Isaac. Because what you did once, you can surely do again." With a frustrated grunt, Rachel squeezed her other self's neck. The other girl wheezed and choked, the soft flesh of her neck allowing Rachel's slender fingers to dig in. But her expression didn't change. It remained as smug and cocksure as it had been.

It was the first time she had been on the giving end of such a thing and she couldn't say she hated it. In fact, as her double's neck gave way and the girl exploded into a splash of crimson, Rachel found herself enjoying the feeling of having silenced her once and for all. Even as the red fluid washed over her, discoloring her own dress, skin, and hair, she couldn't help but smile.

The joy was fleeting, however. A moment later, she heard a laugh that she knew instinctively was supposed to be hers. It was an odd, foreign sound to her. Rachel hadn't heard herself laugh in years.

"You might have ended this interview," her own voice echoed back at her, "But in doing so, you've proven exactly why you are unworthy. And none of this will erase the blight on your soul. Wretched sinner, until you understand the gravity of your crimes, you cannot repent of them. If you cannot do that, then you cannot continue on this path. Leave this place and leave my children in peace."

The ground fell out from beneath Rachel's feet, sending her falling through the air. The white that had surrounded her blew away like so much mist, leaving her flying through the dark. The weightlessness transitioned seamlessly into memory; it was as though rather than falling, she was in her bed back home, listening to a conversation that seemed so far away, but was in reality less than a month ago.

"I'm sure you know that I can't accept credit this time, Matthieu," the voice came as though through water. "But if your daughter lives, I'd happily take her instead."

Rachel wanted to cry out or scream, but she knew it would do no good. She couldn't even lift a finger, let alone run away. Instead, she opted to fall deeper into her slumber, where no one could reach her. If she was lucky, she might stay asleep forever this time.