Just before dinner, that unnamed young man slipped easily through the rail fence and into the cattle barn, for no reason other than curiosity.
They were to stay here for at least two days while the Warden pack did business in Denerim, before turning around and going on the Redcliffe. He gave a quick, irritated shiver, like an animal flicking away a fly – not animal. Mule. Bodahn had mules. It was important to be specific. Anyway, he wished he could have gone into the city, too.
Or into the market, or into one of the small villages he'd seen in the distance. Or one of the human houses. He was ravenous for more of this colorful world, and they never let him do anything.
So, here he was in the cow barn. He gazed wide-eyed at the long tubes for the milk, the tank on one end to collect it. Stalls lined both walls, all identical, with mangers and little trays for the cows' grain. He knew this because there was grain in them now. A soft patter, like rain, came from a stall farther down as someone tossed a fresh handful of grain into one of the trays, and then a girl emerged, holding a bucket. He stiffened in shock.
She had glossy brown curls tied back from her delicate face with a scarf, a simple blue dress under a heavy apron, and clogs to protect her feet. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She heard his sharp intake of breath and glanced over at him, giving a little squeak of surprise and skittering a few steps away from him. A dog heard her and galloped in from the far end of the barn, a big dog, who came to a stiff-legged stop in front of her and growled protectively.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," he stammered, terrified she would run away. That the dog might kill him seemed an inconsequential danger by comparison.
She hesitated, eyes wide like a frightened deer. What had Gatekeeper said? Make your body soft, make your eyes soft, make your steps soft, or your prey will flee. He tried to obey, relaxing his shoulders with an effort and letting his hands fall. They shook, so he clasped them behind his back instead, and tried to look friendly by smiling.
It seemed to help; she straightened a little and said, in a very small and pretty voice like a bird's, "It's okay. But aren't you with those new people? You're not supposed to wander around, Papa will be very cross. He might shoot you."
"It would be worth it to have seen you," he said earnestly.
She blinked, her rosebud mouth forming a perfect circle of astonishment. The clopping of hooves sounded on the packed earth outside the barn and she gasped, waving frantically for him to go before her father arrived with the cows. With a last reluctant look over his shoulder, he slipped out the way he'd come in and slunk off to rejoin his pack, heart pounding.
Firetooth glanced at the flushed young male who was doing a very bad job of trying to slip back into the barn without being noticed, but was too busy to demand an accounting. He turned his attention back to the elf in from of him, just in time to deflect a blow aimed at his heart.
"Very good, I see I cannot so easily surprise you," Zevran praised. He had begun training them all to fight with daggers, modifying techniques to let them use the blades like claws. At first, taking instructions from an elf had rankled, but over the past week Firetooth had grudgingly begun to respect him as a skilful combatant and, almost, a kindred spirit – at least, they both went straight for the jugular with no messing about.
The elf tucked his daggers back into his belt and told them all, "I think that's enough for today. My stomach tells me we are overdue for dinner."
"I'm not hungry," Firetooth protested, which wasn't true. He was quite hungry, and tired after hours of walking and then a long training session, but still seethed with nervous energy built up over several days of boredom and restraint. Gatekeeper cocked his head at him, not at all fooled, but shrugged and followed his Alpha when he agreed that it was time for a break.
"Oh come on," he called after Zevran, shifting his weight from foot to foot in agitation. "We hardly did anything. I'm not tired at all. Why should I have to stop just because you're not fit enough to keep fighting-" He stopped himself when Swiftrunner leveled a frown at him over his shoulder, flushing as shame over being corrected translated instantly into frustrated anger.
They had been doing the same stupid drills for days and he was bored. Every day all they did was walk in a straight line, eating dead food out of bags, listening to lectures from women about how to behave. It was intolerable!
"You ready for dinner?" He spun to see Warden Alistair talking to his little mate, who sat with her lap full of leather, adjusting it to fit one of his packmates.
"I just had a snack," she replied. "I'm going to finish this first."
"I'll wait for you," Alistair offered, and Firetooth curled his lip in disgust. Proper Alphas don't wait for anyone.
"Alistair," he called. "Fight me."
"Oh?" Alistair looked up curiously. "Did Zevran say you're ready to learn to fight against armored opponents?"
"Yeah, sure. Come on."
Alistair got out his shield and wrapped his sword to blunt its edge, while Firetooth wondered what the hell he was thinking. The weirdness of the situation baffled him. Swiftrunner would never have tolerated such an open challenge, would in fact have punished him severely for it, but now they were doing all this "practice" stuff where apparently it was okay to fight whoever you wanted. And didn't actually try to kill each other. Still, Alistair's mild reaction to being called out in front of his own mate did nothing to improve his standing in Firetooth's eyes.
"First you should learn to protect yourself," Alistair said, setting his feet into a fighter's stance and bracing his shield. "You can deflect a sword just like a dagger, but you have to use more force and beware the length of the blade. Ready?"
Firetooth nodded, his heart beginning to race. Alistair swung his sword in a slow arc, and he met it as Zevran had shown him, but only barely turned it aside. He growled in frustration.
"Hold your elbows closer to your sides," Alistair instructed, demonstrating. "You'll have better leverage."
Firetooth swallowed a fresh surge of irritation at being spoken to like a puppy just learning to use his teeth, and forced himself to obey. He turned the second blow aside easily, and grinned as the sword's weight and momentum pulled Alistair slightly off-balance. Without thinking, he lunged at the Warden's briefly exposed right side.
"Nice," Alistair approved, but instead of deflecting the blow like Zevran did, he brought his shield across and whacked Firetooth in the shoulder.
His leather armor kept him from injury, but the heavy weight of the shield caught him by surprise and he stumbled, tripping over his own feet as he automatically tried to use his (entirely absent) tail for balance. Even more humiliating, he was well aware that the larger man had gone easy on him. Alistair would at least respect him enough to fight properly, or Firetooth would teach him respect.
"Stop playing around," he growled.
The other man took a half step back, affecting concern. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I'll slow down."
The absolute arse!
Firetooth's eyes blazed and he felt his cheeks flush; off to his left the clatter of dropped cutlery momentarily drew Alistair's attention. The Warden smiled reassuringly at whoever had made the noise and saluted with the tip of his sword, finally piquing Firetooth's curiosity enough to glance over. It was Nightsong, her hands clasped over her mouth and her face absolutely white. She scurried away, but the damage was done.
Insult him in front of his mate? Flirt with his mate right in front of him? Again?
Alistair turned back to him and frowned uncertainly at the look on his face. Good. "Are you, uh... You sure you want to continue? Maybe we should-"
"Fight me."
Alistair shrugged and swung a rather dubious sword at Firetooth's middle, exactly the same as before. Like he needed to be told again. Pff. He deflected the blade, throwing more of his weight behind it and pulling the larger man further off his balance. Then he flicked the sheath off his dagger with his thumb and lunged again at Alistair's side.
Alistair started in surprise, too off-balance and unprepared to catch him with his shield this time, and instead brought his elbow down and clocked Firetooth sharply across the head - but not before the blade slid smoothly between metal plates, leather strapping, and ribs. Firetooth hissed in pleasure at the feel of flesh parting before the naked steel, even better than claws.
Alistair cried out in pain and shock, jerking away and dropping his sword, blood pouring out to glaze his armor and shine in the setting sun. Defeated! "Ow! Andraste's flaming arse, man, what are you doing?"
The female Warden jumped up and came running to fuss over her mate, and Firetooth had a sudden and thrilling thought. Their pack had never met any other packs, so he wasn't sure how this worked, but was Firetooth her Alpha now? More importantly, was she his? She glared up at him, tiny and speechless with fury. It was cute.
"I win," he told her smugly, and waited to see what she would do.
She turned away, drooping, and he straightened expectantly. She put on Alistair's gauntlet – that was weird – and suddenly pain flared through his skull and he stumbled back in astonishment, his head spinning and mouth filling with blood from where he'd bitten his tongue.
She hit him! A female hit him! With metal gloves on, too!
He felt her snatch his dagger from his numb fingers, and then the sharp bite of its tip against his throat cleared his head better than cold water. He blinked down at her, too incredulous to fear the murder in her eyes.
They're properly in the soup now, aren't they? ;) Thank you all, for reading and especially for reviewing. Your support and encouragement means a lot to me!
