The initial rush of excitement from returning home quickly petered out as soon as Lawrence realized that the trail he followed split several ways throughout the forest. He crouched on the strongest spot where he guessed this pack must have stayed for some time. There were still whiffs of burnt venison and musk. Lawrence lifted his head, following the invisible paths that wove up the rocky, slanted land with his mind's eye.
His ears perked up at the distant howls that cut through the forest chatter of the birds and beetles that lived in the thin, white trees. Fighting the urge to howl in return, he followed the scent path in the direction of the worgen calls. Little whines quivered in his throat until he reached the riverbank. There, across the wide river, stood Emberstone Village. He could hear the roars and howls of worgen, but he could also hear the gurgling of the Forsaken and the rumbles of gunshots and the clanging of metal. Despite the fighting, the village's old wood watermill still turned through the cold waters as if it were an ordinary day.
Lawrence jogged west for a bit for any sign of a bridge, besides the one that connected to the Forsaken-infested Gilneas city, but the only thing crossing the rivers were boulders. He ran back towards the village, a gossamer of raindrops falling in the soft morning light. He cursed at himself for never learning how to swim, but the boulders looked close enough together for him to be able to jump across.
He waded in the water to the first boulder. He pulled himself up, gaged how far the next boulder in front of him was, and jumped. He plunked into the water just and hand's length away from the slippery rock, and the current dragged him away into a different rock. Lawrence desperately clawed at it until he caught his grip. Sputtering, he pulled himself out of the water and clung to the stone until he stopped shaking. Mercifully the river had dragged him close enough to shore that he could wade across onto the pebble-strewn bank. He slipped behind the water wheel to catch his breath. Listening to the aching creaks of the wheel helped calm him, as he just now realized that he didn't have much of a plan. He stripped off his soaked pack and pressed his wet back against ice-cold stone wall. He did not come this far only to die like a fool.
A guttural cry and an undead fell upon him. Lawrence threw the undead woman off of him, but she rolled on her feet and sprang onto him. She grappled his neck with needle-like fingers, and curled her jawless face over his forehead so her scaly tongue could lick his eye. Lawrence fell forward, and the woman struggled for a moment under his weight, but dug her hands deeper into Lawrence's fur.
Something ferocious blazed inside of him, and Lawrence pried off the undead's fingers from his throat. With a roar he pummeled the woman's head until it was crushed into slimy, green bits and the devilish green light for eyes vanished. This startled him enough to hold back his next blow.
He had killed a person.
He lowered his arm, looking down in shock. It was either you are her, he thought, The woman was already dead. You didn't kill someone living. You didn't kill Carolyn.
He had done it so violently, tho. He stood up, legs shaking and overwhelmed with the need to vomit. A worgen's roar startled him and he turned to see a bulk of fur and bone fall off the water mill. A moment later the male worgen popped up out of the water, the corpse of his undead assailant floating downstream in pieces. Lawrence ran to him and helped pull him out of the river.
"Thank you, my good man," the worgen said as his body shook the water off. "Er, woman, sorry. Who're you?"
A tingly, creepy feeling ran up the back of his neck when remembered the severe differences between his slim body and the other, burlier worgen's.
"Lawrence Stoneshir, sir."
He looked over Lawrence again, but said, "Roland Bellman. Can you fight?"
"I have my claws. I can shoot, but I lost my gun awhile back."
"Let's get you a new one, eh? Follow me and keep close."
They skulked up the grassy hill slick with rain and blood, and into the small village of squat homes built of river rocks. The square was empty, but the trail of bodies led to the nearby mines that burst with roars and shouts. Roland picked up several guns from worgen and Forsaken corpses, checked for their bullets, and gave Lawrence two half-full pistols and a box of bullets.
"All right, man," Roland said as they ran for the mines. "We're going to clean up as many Forsaken as you can, and use the keys in their pockets to free the villagers. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," he said, holding a gun in one paw and adjusting his thick fingers to its weight.
"Good, let's get on then!"
They rushed inside the mine that was foggy with gun powder, and were greeted by the soot-covered survivors fleeing past them from the knot of worgen and undead up ahead. Roland threw himself at a Forsaken that was about to stab a worgen in the throat. Lawrence shot the Forsaken through the leather straps that crossed his sickly yellow face. Roland ripped off the dead Forsaken's key from his neck and tossed it to Lawrence.
Lawrence held back and joined the other gunmen picked off the Forsaken when there was a clear shot. Inch by inch the worgen pushed deeper into the mine, freeing what Emberstone slaves who still lived from their chains. Lawrence felt his heart drop as he stepped over the frail, collapsed body of a grandmotherly old woman whose fingers still gripped her pick axe. She didn't look like Mrs. Evergreen, but he wasn't entirely sure, so he kneeled next to her and turned her over. Lawrence's mouth went dry.
"Mrs. Evergreen?" he whispered.
She groaned in response, her eyes still shut, but there was no mistaking Mrs. Evergreen. Her hair had turned grey and she had gained a few wrinkles on her forehead, but it was absolutely her. He felt a prickle of energy run up his back as a worgen woman in sickly green and black robes approached him, a black imp dancing by her feet.
"Is she dead?" the warlock asked.
"No," Lawrence answered as he unlocked her chains. "But she is exhausted and will probably not last long here. Is there a healer nearby?"
"Are you new?" she asked, her grin exposing her yellow teeth.
"Yes," Leda barked. "Where can I find a healer for her?"
"Go back up the road, to the stables. Come back when you know what the hell you're doing."
Lawrence grumbled a thanks as he gently scooped Mrs. Evergreen up, who groaned with pain. Tears leaked from under her closed eyelids as she took great gasps of air. Lawrence walked as gingerly as he could, and her breathing eased by the time he exited the mine shaft. Thankfully the village was deserted, save for a few worgen look outs who pointed Lawrence where to go. He followed the muddy path out of the small village, the stables in sight. A cool breeze stirred her from her sleep, and her near-black eyes scouring his worgen face.
"We're almost there, just hold on a little longer," Lawrence said, praying that his appearance didn't give the woman a heart attack.
"I know those eyes," Mrs. Evergreen whispered. "Miss Leda, is that really you?"
He smiled at her, feeling tears stain his fur. "Yes, but you needn't call me Miss Leda anymore, Mrs. Evergreen. I've…changed my name since I left."
"Oh," Mrs. Evergreen said, a frail hand against his chest. "What do you go by now?"
"Lawrence."
For the first time in his life, he saw Mrs. Evergreen chuckle.
"I knew it," she said, and fell unconscious once more.
Fighting a rising panic, Lawrence hurried to the stables that swarmed with Gilneans both in worgen and human form. A pair of priests approached her and took Mrs. Evergreen from his arms and carried her to the line of bedrolls with seriously injured men and women. An elderly dark skinned man followed the priests with his eyes before he rushed to them. A teenaged acolyte offered Lawrence to grab some venison stew and water for his trouble. Lawrence, suddenly feeling exhausted, only nodded in response.
He shrank into his human form and stumbled towards the line starting in front of one of the run-down stables for a bowl of soup. It amazed him how much easier the transitions were coming along. He felt as if he was learning more and more about his body with every switch. He still felt self-conscious as he waited in line, staring out at people he didn't recognize. They sat around small campfires with their bowls of soup and tins of water. Many shared their utensils, and Lawrence realized he had none, but he remembered the food in his sack, and a perfectly good kitchen knife, that he left in Emberstone.
"Shit," he slurred and fell to his hands and knees.
The commotion buzzed around his ears as he felt arms pull him back up to his feet. He turned to thank whoever who helped him, only to stare straight at Gregory's shocked, human face.
"Leda?" Gregory gasped.
Lawrence didn't realize he had fainted until he felt the hard ground on his back and a roll of musty cloth under his head. That and his eyes were still shut, and he didn't feel particularly inclined to open them until he felt a long tongue licking his cheek.
"What the devil—" he said as he opened his eyes and saw his old wolfhound laying next to him. "Maggie, you're alive!"
"Please don't faint again," Gregory, who sat on Lawrence's other side, said with sigh.
Lawrence sat up a little too quickly and had to hold onto Gregory's bony shoulder.
"I thought you were dead," Lawrence breathed. "I saw Duskhaven fall into the sea and I thought…I thought…"
"A smaller part of the coastline fell, giving us time to evacuate to Stormglen," Gregory said flatly, unable to look at him. "There was nothing but wild dogs and massive spiders. It wasn't until an adventurer went into the Blackwald that we found Willow and the other worgen at Tal'doren. Willow said you had run away, and no one had seen you. Where have you been all this time?"
"That is a long and strange story that I'll tell you one I've had something to eat," he said, his stomach gnawing with anger that it was the afternoon and he hadn't eaten yet.
Gregory took the bowl of lukewarm brown soup and handed it to Lawrence. Maggie nudged her head onto Lawrence's lap and sighed as her master sloppily lapped up the broth and practically swallowed the whole bits of venison. Once finished, his body shuddered in relief.
"They turned my parents," Gregory mumbled.
"What?"
"My parents have been turned into Forsaken. Mother tried to strangle me," he said, his hand rubbing his pale, exposed neck. "I don't remember what happened after that."
Bile rose up in Lawrence's throat, but he swallowed it down.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Lawrence said.
"Where did you go? What have you been doing?" Gregory asked him, the first threads of anger and accusation woven within the question.
So Lawrence told him all that had happened, only he took out Carolyn and Iono's names, and the details of where Carolyn's cabin stood. But everything else he spoke in its entirety, including the reason why he was able to shift from worgen to human form. Gregory's face remained blank as Lawrence attempted to explain to him that he had transitioned. They shared the water in Gregory's canteen, almost finishing it by the time Lawrence had finished his tale. To his surprise, their beagle Molly padded over to jump on his arm and lick his face.
"You're still my sweet girl, eh Molly?" Lawrence cooed. "Now we're all together again, like old times."
Gregory shifted uncomfortably on the dirt, scowling at Lawrence.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked him, his voice tired and strained. He already knew the answer just by looking at this sullen young man's face.
"Nothing. Everything's all right," Gregory grumbled with a pasted on smile. "It's just one more thing I have to get used to, I s'pose."
Lawrence stared at him, debating whether or not to pursue the issue further. Gregory radiated with frustration towards Leda and refused to look at him. It was clear to Lawrence that his younger cousin would not accept his transition as readily as Carolyn or even Iono had. Lawrence realized that this was just the start of an uphill battle for his identity that would probably last for the rest of his life. He would hold off today, though. From the look of the dark circles under Gregory's eyes, Gregory looked as exhausted as Lawrence felt, and any argument Lawrence made woud go in one of Gregory's ears and out the other.
However, he could not hide his hurt.
"Why are you crying?" Gregory said, finally looking at him. "Le-Lawrence, don't cry."
Lawrence hid his face behind his hands, pressure gathering in forehead as he tried to stop crying and failed. He felt Gregory's thin arm over his shoulders.
"I'm sorry I'm an arse," Gregory whispered, his voice cracking.
"Don't say that, you're not," Lawrence said as he wiped his tears away with his knuckles. "We've both been put through the ringer. We're not acting ourselves."
Lawrence regretted saying that the moment it left his lips. "I was a man, though, before this madness happened. That has and will always remain true."
Gregory couldn't mask the skeptical look on his face, and it irritated Lawrence so much that he pushed himself up by his feet and walked away. Gregory went after Lawrence and called out to him, but was interrupted by the cheering howls of a pack of worgen and Emberstone survivors running up the path. Leading the pack was a tawny worgen woman holding aloft a wooden staff, leaves tangled in her bushy hair. She transformed back as a human within a laugh.
"Willow?" Lawrence called out.
"LEDA!" Willow shouted as she ran at Lawrence, then hugged him with full force. "Oh Leda, you're alive! We looked for you after you ran away, and we feared the worst. Are you all right?"
"For the most part, yes," Lawrence said once Willow released him from her bear hug. "How did you turn into a worgen, though?"
"Oh, I asked Gregory to," Willow said with a grin, and held her hand out for Gregory to take. "The worgen have a deeper history with the druidic arts than I realized, so I decided to seize the opportunity. I feel so much more connected with the earth and her creatures!"
Lawrence raise an eyebrow at Gregory, who joined hands with Willow.
Gregory flushed. "After she had returned to Duskhaven and helped me with the trials to regain control over my form, she insisted she be turned too, and I couldn't say no to her."
"Oh, but we're all here! Together for one last night!" Willow said as she took Lawrence's hand.
"What do you mean, 'one last night'?" Lawrence asked.
Willow looked to Gregory and then back to Lawrence. "I guess you haven't been filled in yet. Now that we've secured Emberstone, tomorrow we fight for our Gilneas City back."
A meeting lead by King Greymane, Lord Crowley, and Prince Liam later that evening helped fill Lawrence for the preparations tomorrow. Lawrence caught a glance of Celestine, who sat next to a very haggard Abby, as the plans to storm Gilneas city were laid out and the call for certain volunteers was made. Lawrence volunteered to be one of the sharp shooters, and Gregory and Willow volunteered to be fighting on the ground. It was clear by Celestine's sour expression that she wasn't happy with Willow's decision to be a combatant and not a healer like herself.
The emotion in the air changed from tired and anxious to inspirational and intimidating. It was heartening to see people from all corners of Gilneas congregated in this one spot in the hopes of winning the kingdom back. Even the night sky held clear for once as hundreds hunkered down on a scrap of cloth or grass to get a few hours of sleep. Lawrence, however, went to the group of hastily thrown together tents to protect the more infirm survivors of Emberstone from the chill in the air.
He quickly found Mrs. Evergreen sitting upright in her bedroll and the elderly dark-skinned man from earlier sat next to her. A lit kerosene lamp sat between Mrs. Evergreen and a sleeping patient next to her.
"Mrs. Evergreen," Lawrence whispered as he stood at the foot of her bedroll. "I was hoping I could visit you, if it's not too late."
"Miss Leda!" Mrs. Evergreen whispered back, her dark eyes twinkling in the lamplight. "Wait, it's not Leda anymore. What was it again?"
"Lawrence."
"That's right. Dear, this is Lawrence Stoneshir. Lawrence, this is my husband, Mr. Norman Evergreen."
The eldery man smile was as wide as his salt-and-pepper beard that curled over the round of his face. "How do you do, Mr. Stoneshir? It is good to finally meet you. And to thank you for saving my wife's life."
"It's the least I could do, after she saved mine."
"I best go see if there's anything that needs doing," Mr. Evergreen said as pecked Mrs. Evergreen on the cheek, then pushed up his crooked frame by his knees and left the tent.
Lawrence knelt next to Mrs. Evergreen where Mr. Evergreen had sat. Mrs. Evergreen took Lawrence's hands in hers and cradled it.
"Are you going to fight tomorrow, Lawrence?" she asked.
"Yes. I've been assigned as one of the sharpshooters."
"Oh, you're a sharpshooter now? I suppose that old hunter, eh, Mr. Arthur Farg, was it? I suppose he taught you a thing or two after all. I'm in no condition to fight, but I'll give you a warm welcome when you return."
Lawrence felt tears sting his eyes, but he held them back. "Mrs. Evergreen, I have so much to tell you. So much has happened and there isn't enough time to explain it all."
"And you shouldn't explain it all before tomorrow, or you'll have nothing to tell me when you come back." Her eyes wandered Lawrence's tangled pony tail. "Oh, you've cut your hair."
"I've changed more than that," Lawrence chuckled, though he felt a growing knot in his stomach.
Mrs. Evergreen held Lawrence's gaze with such an intensity that she made him forget for a moment that she was old and frail. This was the Mrs. Evergreen he remembered from his youth.
"No doubt of it. And if that keeps you happy and healthy, that's all that matters, isn't it?" she asked in her quiet voice that bolstered Lawrence with its silent strength.
"Yes," he said, her tears flooding his face for a second time that day, but for a much happier purpose.
They embraced each other for the first and possibly last time. But when Lawrence left her tent so she could sleep, he felt as if he now carried a part of her indomitable spirit with her that would not let him give up and hide, but fight for himself and for Gilneas.
AN: Wanted to get at least one more chapter before school started, lol. This was a hard chapter to write, but it was worth it to have Lawrence and Mrs. Evergreen reunite. Gregory is an ass but, well…more on that once I finish Lawrence's story. Thanks for reading and reviewing!