A/N: Thank you GuestM Live and Buckhunter for reviewing!


Chapter 3

Lancelot woke groggily, but the sounds he heard immediately alerted him to the fact that they didn't belong. Tensing up, he opened his eyes and darted his gaze around the strange home. A blanket was over him, and his leg was throbbing. He tried to sit up and bit his lip to keep from crying out and drawing attention. But someone noticed anyway.

An older woman brought a bowl of porridge over and offered him a warm smile. "Good morning. Are you hungry?"

He stared at her mistrustfully, but his stomach did rumble and the food smelled interesting. It triggered a sense memory of another life.

The woman continued to smile as she lowered herself down to his level on the floor. "I'm not sure whether you understand us, but we mean you no harm." She held out the bowl.

Lancelot tentatively took it. It smelled too tantalizing to resist, and he dipped his fingers into the mush to scoop it into his mouth. The woman's brows furrowed at that, and he realized there was a utensil in the bowl. He considered it for a long moment before simply resuming his way of eating.

The woman gave him that smile again and got up to return to her cooking.

The door opened and three more people came in from outside. One of them was the young man that had rescued Lancelot. He smiled at Lancelot and said good morning, then went to the older woman and presented her with a flower. She smiled and kissed his cheek. A young girl placed some eggs on the table.

The older man with them stood just inside the doorway and regarded Lancelot in a way that made him shrink back. The man's stern expression faltered.

"My name is Albice," he said to Lancelot. "This is my home and you're safe here. My wife, Pryloena, daughter Pryde, and my son Percival. You might remember them from yesterday."

Lancelot eyed them all nervously. He did remember in pain-filled snatches, and it was clear they hadn't harmed him during his insensate state. Still, he wanted Naia, but of course she wasn't here; she had to keep her distance from the human village.

"Why doesn't he understand words?" the girl asked as she cracked the eggs over an iron skillet.

"We don't know," the mother replied. "So we'll have to be patient with him and find other ways to communicate."

She came back over to Lancelot with a towel and sat on the floor. She took the now empty bowl from him and then wiped his hand clean. Lancelot let her.

"I'd like to check your leg now," she said, turning to fold the blanket up over his other leg.

He tensed as she reached for the bandages, but she kept her movements slow and careful as she peeled off the linen wraps.

"No sign of infection yet," she commented. "Honey works wonders that way."

Percival brought the jar of said honey over without her having to ask, and she spread more of the sticky substance over Lancelot's wounds. The contact made him flinch as the pain spiked, but then it eased again. Pryloena removed the used linen and retrieved some fresh ones to wrap his leg again. The family then gathered around the table for their breakfast.

"Word of our guest has spread," Albice said. "Some are concerned. We don't know anything about him."

"He's a boy," Pryloena responded. "Barely Percival's age by the looks of him. He hardly seems like some threat."

"So I told them," Albice said in a conciliatory tone.

"The threat is whoever's going around laying those despicable traps," Percival put in. "Anyone from the village who goes out there could get caught in one."

"Yes," his father agreed. "Some of the men will look into it."

Their conversation paused as they noticed Lancelot staring at them, and they offered a combination of small smiles and grimaces.

"It seems rude to talk about him as though he's not here," Pryde said. "Even if he doesn't understand us."

Lancelot swallowed hard before speaking, "I know your words." His voice was thin compared to theirs; he hadn't had need of it in years.

They all straightened in surprise, and Albice now eyed him shrewdly.

"Why have you not spoken before now?" he asked in a harder tone.

Lancelot's tongue felt thick in his mouth as he searched for an answer. "Afraid. Humans…" He gestured at the four of them. "Dangerous."

"We've done nothing but help you," Percival pointed out.

Lancelot nodded. "Sorry- thank you." He gave himself a sharp shake at the mixed up words. "Not used to…people."

Pryloena got up to come back over and sit next to him again, her brows furrowed. "What's your name?"

"Cub." He shook himself again and amended, "Lancelot." It had been so long, the name felt foreign to say.

"Have you been on your own, Lancelot?"

He shook his head. "I've been with Pack."

She frowned.

"You mean the wolf?" Percival asked.

Lancelot nodded.

"You live with wolves?" Pryde exclaimed.

He nodded again.

"For how long?" Pryloena asked.

Lancelot thought about it, then answered, "Eight winters."

The family looked stunned and a little alarmed.

"Naia saved me," he went on. "My village was destroyed, everyone slaughtered. I was the only one left. I would have died if she hadn't taken me in." He could tell they still found the tale disturbing, so he struggled for how to explain it. He gestured to Percival and Pryde while saying, "Me." Then to Pryloena. "Naia." His throat constricted. "I want to go back."

Pryloena shook herself out of her stupor and gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid you won't be walking on that leg until it mends. The bone is likely fractured, which means you're stuck with us for a while."

Lancelot bit his lip in growing distress. These people did seem sincere in their desire to help him, but they didn't understand. "She needs to know I'm okay," he pressed.

Percival cleared his throat. "She let us bring you here, so I'm sure she knows."

Lancelot wasn't assuaged, but they were right: he was trapped here for the time being.


Percival was out chopping wood when he paused to stare at the tree line. On a whim, he set the axe down and ventured into the woods, searching for signs of the white wolf. He thought he heard some leaves crinkling, but if she was there, she was concealing herself well.

"Lancelot is all right," he ended up saying aloud. "We're taking good care of him."

He felt somewhat foolish for talking to air, let alone a wolf, but he thought it might make Lancelot feel better to know the message had been passed along.

Percival turned and went back to finish up his chores. He brought his pile of logs inside and set them by the fireplace, then went to sit on the floor next to the mysterious young man, who was stuck in bed in a strange place among people he hadn't been around in almost a decade. Percival couldn't imagine.

"What's it like living with wolves?" he asked curiously.

Lancelot's brows knitted together. "It's…different."

"I figured. For one thing, I bet you don't have a home with a roof."

"We have a den in a cave."

"Doesn't that get cold?"

"The pack keeps each other warm."

"And none of them have ever…viewed you as prey?"

Lancelot frowned. "No. I am Pack."

Percival shook his head, still in amazement of that. "Do you remember your life before that? Before the pack?"

Lancelot dropped his gaze at that. "Some."

"I can't imagine what you've been through. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my whole family like that."

Lancelot looked away, and Percival regretted the turn in conversation. He changed the subject then, moving on to describe what his life was like, how he did chores to help his parents, how they grew vegetables and tubers in the garden to feed their family, and how Percival would go hunting in the woods for game.

He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "What do you eat? Surely not raw meat like wolves do."

"No, I catch fish and cook them over a fire. Sometimes I'll cook a piece of leg from the pack's kill. And I forage for berries and nuts."

Percival found that fascinating, but instead of peppering Lancelot with prying questions, he continued to talk about himself, using that as a segue into asking about the comparison with Lancelot's way of life.

And they struck up a friendly conversation that lasted the next hour.


Being absorbed into Percival's family was strange, though it wasn't all that dissimilar from when the Pack had taken Lancelot in. He missed them with an aching in his heart, but he also found that he…didn't quite mind this current company. Pryloena would prattle on about anything and everything when she was working inside where Lancelot was constrained to the pallet. Percival and Pryde taught him a game to play to while away the time. Albice and Percival helped Lancelot up when he needed to relieve himself, and the pain in his leg with each effort only confirmed how serious his injury was. Despite their kindness, he was feeling like a trapped animal.

Then Albice came home one day, looking grim. "People are talking about a wolf stalking the edge of the village. They're organizing a hunt."

"They can't do that!" Lancelot exclaimed and tried to get up. But his leg couldn't support him and he fell onto his side with a cry.

"Hurting yourself won't help anything," Pryloena chided as she rushed over to help him settle.

"You have to understand why people are nervous," Albice told him. "And the wolf does have to eat."

"She won't attack the village," Percival said.

"You can't know that."

"She hasn't so far."

"And do you think you can convince the others of that?" Albice pointed out.

Percival's jaw ticked.

Lancelot knew what he had to do—he had to send Naia away.

"Take me to her," he pleaded. "I'll tell her she has to leave."

"You can't be on that leg," Pryloena reminded him.

"Please," he begged. "I can't let anyone hurt her."

"We could bring her in here," Percival suggested.

His parents gave him dubious looks at that.

"Bring a wolf into this house?" Albice challenged.

"Why not? Or do you not believe Lancelot that she won't hurt us if he asks her not to?"

"She won't," Lancelot said desperately. "Please. I'll convince her to go, so no one gets hurt."

Albice and Pryloena shared silent looks, but after a moment they both relented and nodded their agreement.

"I'll go out after dark to call for her," Percival said. "So no one will see."

"This is madness," Albice muttered, but he didn't object anymore.

Lancelot was restless with worry for the remainder of the day. After the sun set, Percival left the house to head into the woods, and the rest of his family waited anxiously for him to return. Finally, the door opened, and Naia slipped through. Albice grabbed Pryde to hold her back protectively, but Naia came straight to Lancelot.

He threw his arms around her and she licked his face.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded. "This family is taking care of me. But my leg is badly injured."

Naia turned to nose it, ears folding back in concern.

Lancelot let out a shuddering breath. "You have to leave, before the villagers come after you. They know you're out there."

Her ears flattened backward. "I will not abandon you," she said sharply.

"You're not," he told her, even though it wrenched his heart to say. "You're leaving me in good hands until I'm healed enough to rejoin the pack."

"Winter will be upon us soon," she pointed out.

Lancelot nodded, chest constricting as he cast a questioning look to the family. He then realized he and Naia had been communicating through magic and they hadn't been able to follow any of it. He cleared his throat and asked aloud, "Might I stay with you through the winter?"

"Of course," Pryloena replied.

Lancelot nodded his thanks and turned back to Naia. "Come back when the snow melts."

She whined, and he hugged her again, tears pricking his eyes. When he pulled back, she licked them away.

"You are my brave little cub."

Then with a heavy look, she turned to leave and slip away into the night.

Lancelot held his emotions in until he knew she was gone, and then he turned his face into his pillow to cry. He had never been completely cut off from the Pack before, and he felt as bereft as the day he'd lost his human family.

Pryde came over and sat on the floor next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I would cry too if my mother had to go away for a long time. But she'll be back."

Lancelot wiped at his eyes and rolled over to face her.

"It'll be all right," she said, and he found her sincere kindness and reassurance touching.