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

Chapter 5

Lancelot stayed close to the Pack that spring, choosing to remain in the den and help look after that year's pups. But by late summer, they had grown into rambunctious teenagers that the adults chased off for some peace and quiet during the day. Lancelot went with the young wolves to keep an eye on them.

It was on one such outing that the wolves caught a scent of human that wasn't Lancelot—and blood. They moved in to investigate and found a young man with dark skin staggering along through the forest, blood soaking down the sleeve of one arm. He looked to be barely keeping his feet, and sure enough, after a few more lumbering steps, he collapsed and stopped moving. The tip of a sword in a scabbard angled up into the air from his belt.

"We should go," one of the wolves said.

Lancelot hesitated, however. When he'd been hurt and alone in the woods, Percival had helped him, a complete stranger. This man could be dangerous, though, a brigand like the people who'd slaughtered Lancelot's village. Or…he could not be. Lancelot thought that if Percival were here, he would choose to help, and so Lancelot figured he should do the same.

"Return to the Pack," he instructed the wolves.

They exchanged a round of unhappy whines.

"You aren't coming?"

"Not yet."

"But—"

"Go," he said sternly.

The young wolves fidgeted in discomfort before they turned and slowly loped away. Once they were gone, Lancelot straightened and cautiously approached the young man on the ground. Of course, after reaching him, Lancelot found he hadn't thought this through very far. What was he to do now?

He picked up a stick and tentatively poked the man. The guy was out cold but still breathing. Lancelot knelt down and rolled him over onto his back, then proceeded to widen the hole in his sleeve where the blood was coming from. There was a nasty gash across his upper arm. Lancelot remembered what Pryloena had done for his wounds, but there wasn't a source of water nearby.

He searched the man's person for a waterskin and found one, so he used its contents to flush the wound. Bandages were a problem, though. Lancelot considered the problem, then decided to simply tear off the lower half of the sleeve since it was ripped anyway. He turned it inside out and then wrapped it around the gash, tying it tightly at the ends.

After that, Lancelot sat back and settled in to wait. He wondered if he should take the sword away, but he didn't want the man's first impression of him to be as a thief. Besides, at the first sign of aggression from him, Lancelot could simply outrun the threat. So Lancelot sat patiently and waited, studying the young man's features intently and watching for signs of waking.

When he did finally begin to stir, Lancelot remained still. He didn't want to startle the man.

He jolted awake and whipped his gaze around in confusion. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Lancelot. You're hurt. I tried to help."

The guy looked at his clumsily bandaged arm, then back at Lancelot. "Why?" he asked next, eyes narrowed.

"Why were you hurt? I don't know."

"No, why are you 'helping'?"

"I was badly injured not too long ago and a stranger stopped to help me. Saved my life," Lancelot replied openly.

The young man eyed him curiously for a moment. "My name is Elyan," he finally said. "And thank you."

He touched his injured arm and grimaced as he sat fully upright. Lancelot didn't say anything. Elyan shifted in apparent discomfort for several more moments before saying,

"I suppose I should be on my way."

Lancelot still didn't move as Elyan tried to stand, but the young man stumbled from dizziness and fell back to the ground.

"Or not," he muttered.

"You did lose a lot of blood," Lancelot explained. "I remember that made me feel weak for a bit."

A muscle in Elyan's jaw ticked, and he shifted his legs to a more comfortable position. Another few minutes of silence passed before he snipped, "Are you just going to sit there?"

"Yes. Until you're recovered."

Elyan let out a soft snort and reached for his waterskin on the ground. He emptied it in one gulp. Sighing in frustration, he threw the pouch back at the ground.

"I can look for a water source to refill that," Lancelot offered.

"Is there water nearby?" Elyan asked instead.

"No, but I know where some is."

Elyan appeared to consider it. "I suppose if I'm going to be taking a rest for a bit, I should make camp near a water source."

Lancelot finally got to his feet and offered Elyan a hand up. He again eyed Lancelot skeptically before taking his hand and stumbling upright again. Lancelot ducked in to support his weight, and together they hobbled their way through the woods to a running creek. Once there, Lancelot refilled Elyan's waterskin first, then set about making a campfire.

"I'm not used to kindness from strangers," Elyan remarked.

"I didn't expect it either when I received it," Lancelot replied. "That's why I thought I should do so unto someone else."

Elyan quirked an odd look at him. "I'm not aware of a village in these parts."

"There's not."

"So, you just live out in the woods alone?"

"Not alone." Lancelot didn't elaborate, but he remembered that polite manners meant reciprocation, so he asked, "What are you doing all the way out here?"

Elyan fidgeted. "I had a disagreement with some business partners." He pointed to his injured arm. "I escaped into the forest to lose them."

Lancelot frowned at that. "Will they pursue you?"

"I hope not."

Now Lancelot was shifting in uneasiness. He had no wish for his good will to result in trouble for him. But he had already said he would wait with Elyan, so he couldn't just up and abandon him. But he'd have to be on guard in case these "business partners" did happen upon them.

As Elyan sat and rested by the fire, Lancelot meandered around the immediate area, foraging for nuts and berries. He brought back a plentiful handful for his charge.

"Thanks," Elyan said, accepting the food. He sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a roast chicken."

Lancelot felt a new presence before he saw her, and the next moment, Naia came dashing toward him.

"Cub! I was worried," she exclaimed.

Elyan tensed and reached for his sword.

"Don't!" Lancelot urged, leaping to his feet. "She's a friend."

Elyan blinked at him dubiously while Naia's ears flattened back.

"I didn't think you'd be this reckless after what happened this winter."

"It's because of what happened I felt I should help him," Lancelot countered. "He's injured and I couldn't leave him like that."

"He seems fine now."

"I promised to stay."

Naia's displeasure rumbled low in her throat.

Elyan continued to grip the hilt of his sword and eye the large wolf warily.

"I'd ask you not to hurt my friend," Lancelot said aloud as he lowered himself to the ground again.

"It's a wolf," Elyan hissed.

"Her name is Naia and she won't hurt you."

Naia huffed loudly and plopped down on the ground.

Elyan narrowed his gaze but slowly removed his hand from his weapon.

The air remained tense with Naia's arrival, but it was clear she wasn't going anywhere. Evening came and they all bedded down for the night. Lancelot lay awake for a couple hours, gazing at the stars but also listening to the nocturnal sounds of the forest. Nothing hinted that Elyan's enemies were out there.

In the morning, Lancelot gathered more berries for breakfast, though it wasn't a large amount.

"Would you mind hunting some small game for us?" he asked Naia.

She cast a mistrustful look at Elyan before loping off. Elyan visibly relaxed with her absence.

"Should I check your wound?" Lancelot asked.

"It's fine," he replied, though it did appear to pain him.

"I'll be right back," Lancelot said and went off to search the surrounding area.

He spotted a bee around the berry bush and followed it back to the hive. He remembered the honey Pryloena had used to fight the infection in his leg. Taking extreme care with his movements, he inched close to the hive and managed to reach in to take just a little scoop of their honey.

He returned to Elyan and held out his hand with the sticky honey. "For your wound. It helps fight infection."

Elyan looked at him dubiously for a moment before reaching up to undo his bandage. He then scraped the honey from Lancelot's fingers and transferred it to his wound, rubbing it in himself.

"My father would use honey sometimes to treat burns he got working near the furnace," Elyan remarked.

Lancelot furrowed his brows. "Furnace?" he repeated.

"My father's a blacksmith."

"What is that?" Lancelot asked as he picked up the soiled bandage, folded it over, and rewrapped Elyan's arm.

Elyan was giving him that incredulous look again. "You don't know what a blacksmith is?"

Lancelot shook his head.

"Uh, well, he works with metals, melting them down and reshaping them into locks, weapons, horseshoes."

Lancelot could barely imagine those things. "Then, he is still alive?"

Elyan's expression shut down. "Yes. We had a falling out."

Lancelot leaned back and considered the young man. He didn't understand how one could have a "falling out" with family, but he could tell it was a touchy topic, so he didn't press.

Naia returned and dropped a hare in front of Lancelot, which he thanked her for.

"It's not roast chicken," he said aloud to Elyan. "But it's better than those meager berries."

He skinned the hare and put it on a spit to cook over the fire, then shared the meal with Elyan.

A few hours later, Elyan was ready to move on.

"I'll get going now," he said, helping to put out the fire. "Thanks for the help."

Lancelot nodded. "I wish you well."

With that, he headed off with Naia without a look back.

"I'm proud of your good heart," she said. "But I want you to be careful. The human world may contain kindness, but it is also treacherous."

Lancelot acknowledged the sage advice. But he'd also decided that when faced with the human world, Lancelot wanted to be one of those who brought kindness with him.