Another Epic Collection

by Aysu

More Epic Battle Fantasy stories and ficlets, though sometimes with mature themes. Warnings inside.

2. Escort (Rated T)

EDIT 7/24/2018: I have added a few extra thousand words to the end of this fic! I hope you enjoy!

A/N: So here's one of those stories I'm working on off the net that I've mentioned in previous works. It's not done, obviously, but I figure you guys deserve to see what sucks up my time and fingers instead of chapters on my other fics. It's a pretty long one, so be prepared for that.

The basic gist of this one is that there's a witch hunt going on for anyone who can use magic, so the team is trying to get people to safety, and have split up to cover areas more quickly. It's a little different from my previous works because a large portion of it is focused on someone other than the four main characters (In fact, Lance is the only one who makes an appearance so far in this on.). It's still a third person limited POV (i.e. follows the perspective of one character at a time in a narration way), but with a new person as a focus.

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Little Follower: I'll respond to your reviews from both the previous installment and The Epic Tales here. Please excuse the atrocious text walls that are incoming. :P

For Revenge: It occurs to me now that I probably should have mentioned that it is an incomplete plot idea, just one that will never be written. I frequently leap right into the thick of things in them as they are what strikes my fancy at the moment. It's lazy, I know. :P As for the first person, I'll keep it in mind for future tragedies (not that I'll likely be writing too many more perma-deaths. My heart and eyes can't take it. :P). It didn't really occur to me that people feel more attached/in sync to first person moments as I, personally, abhor almost all FPPOV. I don't get that attachment as it feels more like a narration from the character than placing myself in their shoes, environment, and life—it actually becomes harder for me to immerse myself in a world and story when it feels like I'm just getting a single view window of events—and I just dislike the style of writing in general for reading (Excluding Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I will always love those books). As for the fight scenes, I, too, usually don't like jumping directly from emotional moments to action. What's been happening is that I feel I need to be adding more description for fights than I have been doing. I tend to gloss over battle or rush the ends of them unless I really sit down and concentrate on descriptions and actions (The fight against Godcat in An epic retelling was an egregious rush job on the back end.) Many of the additions to this collection will be combat fics that I've written as practice. I'd like to hit a proficiency point where I don't really need to consciously focus on battles to write them well, so I throw in practice wherever I can. I'm sorry if that detracted from the emotion of the piece for you. I'm glad you liked the ending. I'm a terrible sucker for happy endings, and I could never just let two characters die like that. XD

In reference to your latest review: I was not at all upset by the suggestions! I love constructive criticism, and am so glad you gave me some. After all, how can I possibly improve if I don't know what went wron to my readers? They were very valid points, and it is my own shortcoming that makes me not want to improve off of your suggestions right away. I know what insulting looks like, and your review was not an insult at all. You were very polite and gave the reasoning for your suggestions, which is the best any author could ever hope for when getting criticism of any kind.

For Drabbles 1: I'd been collecting drably things I've written for a while, and wishing I could put them out there. You're right that they seemed too short for individual stories, and they don't really fit into any of the plots I have going. Then I recalled seeing other fics that do a bunch of drabbles in one chapter, and figured why do that, too? I'll definitely be posting more as I track them down on my computer and/or write them.

Yup, character interactions are my fave. I'm trying to extend my writing horizons, but I keep getting drawn back into banter. :P We'll say it's a slow work in progress, I guess. XD

Yeah, if the Valkyrie wasn't such a rumbling plot mess, I'd totally put it in everywhere. Sadly, it's just too hard to explain away all the logistical issues with having a full-sized tank other than using the cop-out "it's magical" explanation.

Eh, heh. I may have had a little too much fun with Rambo-NoLegs. Originally, he was just going to be drunk, but then I imagined him stealing Lance's stuff. And then I pictured him wearing the Army hat, and, well, it all went to hell in handbasket from there. XD

I don't like to leave errors in my writing, and editing is the only way I have beyond A/Ns in new chapters to let my guests know I've read their reviews. To be clear, I read every single review I get (sometimes more than once because they give me warm fuzzies :3). I'm beyond flattered (to the point of honestly blushing) that you think my writing is good enough to help improve your own. That is incredibly high praise, so thank you. I hope you'll continue to enjoy, and review my works.

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Now, then, enjoy!

Title: Escort (tentatively)
Rating: Probably T
Warnings: Blood, language.

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Erick studied his rescuer who sat across the fire from him. The man was fairly tall and lean with well-defined muscles in his arms now that his coat was taken off. He had shaggy red hair and red eyes that were clear and sharp. His skin, though orange in the firelight, was tanned from exposure to the sun. He didn't talk much, and his expression was closed and unreadable. Still, Erick mused he couldn't be that bad of a man, if he'd risked his life to save a strange boy he'd never met before. And he was definitely skilled and strong to fight off five brigands alone. He was a little strange to just assume the boy would come with him, though—not that he'd had any qualms with following for a little while.

"Are you hungry?"

Erick jumped slightly at the sudden, gruff question. He nodded mutely, and received a traveler's biscuit, a strip of dried meat, and a bottle of water. "Th-thanks, mister," he mumbled as he accepted the food.

"Lance," the man replied shortly. He elaborated when the boy looked confused, "My name. You can call me Lance; might as well since we've got a ways to go together. What's yours?"

"Oh, um, my name's Erick," Erick stuttered. He hastily wiped his hand on one pant leg and held it out to shake as his father had taught him, "Pleased to meet you, mis-Lance. Thank you for saving me earlier."

He felt a little awkward when Lance merely stared at the offered hand for a moment before rolling his eyes and shaking it. Erick noted that Lance's hands were calloused; a lot like his father's, who spent long days working the farm. He wondered if Lance had gotten his callouses from fighting a lot. He supposed he must have, given his apparent skill at it—and to be able to make it look so easy, too!

"Where are we going?" Erik asked as he nibbled on his traveler's biscuit. He resisted making a face at the tasteless quality.

"North," Lance replied as he tossed another branch into the fire. The flames were smothered for a moment before catching and spreading across the added fuel. Lance sat back and dug out some food for himself as he went on, "We'll head east, first, though. I doubt you'll be able to walk the entire way, so I need to buy some horses, and the closest town that sells any decent ones isn't on our way. Still, it'll be worth it in the long run. Can you ride?"

Erik nodded hesitantly, "I ride my family's plow horse to and from the field all the time. But my house isn't so far away that I need a horse to reach it."

Lance stilled with his canteen against his lips. He lowered the container and stared at Erick with the first gleam of real emotion in his eyes: sorrow and sympathy. "I thought you knew…" he murmured uneasily.

"Knew what?"

"Oh, boy," Lance muttered to himself. He took a deep breath before saying, "Your family and farm are gone, Erick. The Sect came and wiped them out days ago."

It took a few moments for those words to sink in. And then Erick felt a flood of emotions: disbelief, anger, sadness, fear, horror. He wanted to scream, to demand to know why, to refute the horrible news, to run home and prove that his family was fine, and worried about why he'd been so late getting back. And yet, all he could do was stare numbly at Lance. He barely registered that the man was speaking to him with increasing concern, and he didn't feel when a hand landed on his shoulder to jostle him. He didn't realize that he'd begun to violently shake, or that tears were leaking silently down his cheeks, or that his breathing was picking up.

A sharp pain to his cheek snapped him out of his shock, and shattered his unnerving silence. The tears came more rapidly, and he curled into himself as he cried. "Wh-wh-why? We n-never d-did, anything wr-wrong!" he sobbed desperately.

Lance frowned to himself as he was now faced with the challenge of comforting a boy of twelve or so years of age that he'd only just met that afternoon about the complete annihilation of his closest family. This was definitely far outside his skill set and comfort zone, and he blamed his friends for the twinge in his chest that urged him to do something to make the kid feel better, though he didn't know what to do. He resolved to give them an earful when he reached the checkpoint as he scooted around the fire to awkwardly wrap an arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. It seemed to be the right thing as Erick leaned into the comfort. "Might as well push the advantage," he wryly mused to himself.

"I'm sorry," Lance told Erick quietly. "It's not much, but I did bury them when I got there. I'm sorry I didn't arrive soon enough to save them."

Erick coughed on a sob and took a few shaky breaths before he mumbled, "Thanks…" He felt a gentle squeeze from the arm around his shoulders, and fresh tears welled in his eyes.

That one thanks was the last thing said that night. Erick merely cried until he couldn't cry anymore, his eyes puffy and red, and his throat sore from sobbing. Lance remained at his side, alternating between rubbing his back and hugging him, but not speaking or pressing the boy to speak. He passed out against Lance, exhausted emotionally and physically. The gunner silently gathered the boy up and tucked him into his bedroll before moving to sit under a nearby tree to keep watch.

Erick woke to the sound of birds chirping. He stared up at the canopy of leaves overhead through which he could see the early morning sky. His face felt stiff from the tears from the night before, his eyes were itchy, and his throat was scratchy and parched. The evidence of his breakdown merely enforced the realization that it hadn't been some horrible dream. His family was dead, and he was alone. He rolled his head to the side when he heard footsteps and saw Lance heading towards him with two canteens in hand. By the water clinging to the sides of the containers, Erick figured they'd just been filled from the stream. He pushed himself up, carefully worming his upper body out of the bedroll he'd been placed in.

"How're you feeling?" Lance asked quietly as he held out one of the canteens.

"Better than my family," Erick muttered bitterly as he popped the cap. He drank a mouthful of the cold water and swallowed it past the lump in his throat. He sipped a little more until his tongue no longer felt swollen and fuzzy before capping the canteen. He stared at the container in his hands and his grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. "I'll kill them all," he hissed, "Every single one of them."

Lance arched a brow, and decided to nip that dangerous way of thinking at the bud. "As much as I can appreciate a revenge murder, you don't have the skills, the strength, the knowledge, or the character to manage it," he stated mildly. He stretched a hand out to rest on Erick shoulder and said in a quiet, firm voice, "Your family wouldn't want you to get yourself killed in an attempt to stain your hands with their murderers' blood, and you know it. Put that train of thought aside before it drives you mad. And trust me: it will eventually drive you mad."

Erick slumped under Lance's reasonable words and reasoning, and he loosened his death grip on the canteen in his hands. He traced one finger around the cap as he asked in an uncertain tone, "What do I do now, then? Where do I go if my home is gone? I don't have any money or relatives who'd be willing to take me in." He couldn't bring himself to meet Lance's eyes as he wondered about how he'd live from now on. It was a big, scary world out there, and he was so young, as his mother always said when he talked about going beyond the farming community he'd grown up in.

Lance lightly squeezed the shoulder he was gripping as he said, "Well for now, you're with me. I have plenty of money, and was already planning on taking you north. My friends and I are gathering up people like you, and we have a place you can go with people who can take care of you."

Erick finally looked up with a hint of reluctant curiosity in his gray eyes. There were about a dozen question swimming through his mind, but he settled on one to ask. "People like me?"

"People who can use magic," Lance explained as he let go of the boy's shoulder. "The Sect targeted your family because they had a history of magic users, and unfortunately people who can use magic are the world's latest scapegoats."

"Why would they want to hurt people who can use magic?" Erick wondered aloud.

Lance shook his head with a disgusted snort, "That is a long and complicated story full of idiocy and narrowmindedness. I can try to give you the short version while we walk, but I'm trusting you to kick me if I start getting too mad about it." The small bit of humor caused a flicker of amusement to appear in the boy's shadowed eyes, much to Lance's relief. He stood up with a jerk of his head, "Now come on, we can do breakfast on the road, too."

Erick scrambled out of the bedroll and stood to one side while Lance moved about the small campsite, picking up his gear, and spreading the still-warm ashes of the campfire to cool. Soon the pair was on the dirt road winding through the trees, heading east to a small town Lance called Bluegrass. Breakfast was almost identical to the night before, though Lance added a little fruit to the dried meat and bland bread. As they walked and ate, Erick learned of what the Sect was doing, and why. He could see why Lance had said it made him mad to talk about. The mindless hatred, bred from fear, and taken out on unsuspecting innocents was very anger inspiring.

"I can't believe they needed somebody to blame so they picked hundreds or people who did nothing wrong to kill," Erick muttered with a tight expression as he thought of his cheerful, friendly parents, who's never hurt another person in their entire lives, and his pretty, if somewhat airheaded younger sister who hardly knew what anger meant.

Lance grunted, eyes constantly scanning the area around them as he kept watch for trouble, human or otherwise. "More like thousands of people. You'll find history and the world are full of bigots and idiots, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Erick huffed.

Lance shot the boy an amused look, "Oh, yeah? How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Still a kid for five more years, then," Lance chuckled. He smirked at the discontent grumbles, and nudged the boy as he added, "But thirteen is plenty old enough for a lot of things. How would you like to learn to fight?"

Erick's eyes widened and gleamed with childish excitement, chasing away the lingering shadows of sadness and anger that had been lurking in them. As Lance had expected, a distraction was just what the boy needed at the moment, and it had the dual-purpose of preparing the kid for the likely eventuality of combat in the near future. The gunner doubted Erick would be any use in battle, but having some sort of sense of what to do and not do in a fight was important, and would be helpful in his job of keeping the kid's head attached to his shoulders while guarding him. Plus physical exercise would be the ideal distraction from his sorrow and give him a positive goal to work on.

"Will you teach me to fight?" Erick asked eagerly.

Lance arched a brow, "Unless you know someone else around who'd be willing to teach a kid how to avoid dying?"

"I'm not a kid," Erick protested with a disgruntled pout. His ire soon faded as he asked, "So when can we start?"

"Right now," Lance replied calmly. "Show me how you throw a punch."

Erick curled his right hand into a tight ball and swung it forwards. He looked to Lance expectantly.

"Okay, first things first, you'll break your thumb if your fist is like that," Lance said. He held his own fist up to show Erick as he explained, "Never, ever curl your fingers over your thumb. Not only does it diminish the power of your blow by absorbing some of the impact, you'll almost certainly snap your thumb. Ideally, you wouldn't use a fist at all for a straight forwards hit." He changed his fist to an open palm with his fingers bent at the knuckles. He nodded approvingly as Erick copied him and explained, "The bone here in your hand is more solid than your fingers, so the impact has more force behind it with less chance of damaging yourself. Try punching your opposite palm and then try smacking your palm into it. Which hurts less, and which feels stronger?"

"The palm, definitely," Erick decided after a few punches. He swung his palm in the same arc he had his punch and was corrected again by Lance.

"Don't swing wide like that. All you're doing is giving your opponent a chance to see where you're coming from. You want to be in and out so fast they're wondering when you hit them. Throw your shoulder behind the blow for more force with less distance." He demonstrated a basic palm strike.

Erick copied him, and after a few tries, he was doing admirably well. "Huh, this isn't so hard," he grinned as he swung his right arm over and over.

Lance arched a brow, "Oh, so you're done now? That one hit is going to save you in a fight? Nuh-uh, bucko, you've got a long way to go before you can claim it's not so hard. Besides, we haven't hit the most important stuff, yet. But we'll get to that, later. For now, let me tell you about where to aim for that a kid like you can reach."

"Not a kid."

"Whatever," Lance said with a smirk, "…kid."

The entire day they spent walking, Lance taught Erick about the ideal places to go for when in a fight, things to look out for, when to use a fist, and when a palm strike is the better choice. He firmly told the boy that anything goes in a real battle, that life wasn't like bedtime stories where a person could adhere to a code of honor not to hit below the belt, not to hit someone who was down, and that women were completely harmless as foes and should not be fought.

"Some of the strongest fighters I know are women," Lance told Erick when the boy protested that his father had told him to never strike a girl. "The fact of the matter stands that women can be just as dangerous as men, and if you go into a battle against a real fighter and you decide to pull your punches because of their gender, then you're going to wind up hurt or dead. Not that your dad's words don't have some truth to them: you'd never hit a girl—or a boy, for that matter—who's just being a pest, and there's a time and place for every battle. He was teaching you to be respectful and have morals, which is a sight better than some people do. But respect and morality just doesn't apply in most fights. I want you to promise me that you'll do what you must to keep yourself alive in battle."

"I promise," Erick said firmly.

"Good," Lance said with a nod. "Now then, let's break for the night and we'll get started on the most important thing in battle."

"Magic? Weapons?" Erick asked eagerly.

"Matt and Natalie will like you," Lance snorted to himself. He shook his head, "No, the most important thing in any fight is dodging, and minimizing damage when a dodge is impossible." He raised a hand to halt Erick's disappointed groan and said in a tone of upmost seriousness, "Your health should be one of your top priorities. How can you expect to win, especially against more than one foe, if you get stabbed in the belly during the first five seconds? Or what if you fail to dodge a hit and your leg breaks? Dodging will be your greatest asset, Erick. You're too small and light to be a major threat, or for your blows to have any significant force behind them."

Erick's protests died at Lance's use of his actual name, not kid, as the gunner had taken a fondness to calling him over the day. He was tempted to be upset at the jab to his height and size, but his irritation faded as he realized Lance wasn't mocking him, but making a very valid point. He was strong for his age given all the hard labor he'd done on the farm, but it was foolish to think he'd be fighting people who were smaller than him. He took a deep breath and met Lance's serious gaze.

"But my smaller size means I'm a smaller target."

Lance gave the boy an approving nod with a slight smile. "Exactly. You're smaller than most people who'd try to attack you, and you'll probably be more agile and flexible. Kids just have that advantage. Of course, some adults are really flexible, too, but we still have to exert more effort to change directions. Your greatest strength and defense right now is your small stature. People will underestimate you because you're a kid and smaller than them. They won't expect you've been trained to fight; especially if you don't tell them you can in an effort to scare them."

"An empty cart rattles loudly," Erick said with the air of parroting an oft-repeated phrase. He shrugged when Lance gave him a strange look and quietly said, "Dad used to say that all the time. He hated boasting."

"Well, he was a very wise man," Lance said approvingly. "Let your enemies do the boasting. While they're talking, you can be planning how to take them down, or an escape. In fact, I encourage getting them to talk when you can; talking distracts people, so hit them in the middle of a sentence—either your own, or theirs. And never hesitate to run if you're in over your head: He who runs lives to fight another day, after all."

Erick nodded again, and Lance clapped his hands before shucking off his weaponry. He carefully leaned his gunblade up within easy reach and turned to Erick with a gleam in his eyes. "Now then, I'm going to hit you, and I want you to dodge. We'll start out slow, and I'll be pulling my punches. Pick a stance."

"I thought you said not to pull punches in a fight?" Erick said as he fell into a loose stance Lance had taught him earlier.

"I did, but this isn't a fight; you're way too small of a threat. Feel free to swing at me, if you consider this a fight, but keep in mind that I can pin you in about seven different ways, and weigh more than twice as much as you."

Erick scowled at the jab. "Tough words," he muttered. His eyes widened as Lance suddenly seemed to blur in his vision and he found himself forcefully thrown to the ground with his arm twisted behind his back and a weight holding him down, pinning his knees.

"And now it's an action," Lance said calmly. He released Erick and stood up, hauling the boy up by the under arm. He stepped back and said with a hint of disapproval, "What I was saying wasn't a boast, but a warning; what you said with tough words was a boast. You're all but claiming you're better than me, and that my talent and skill means nothing against your own. Always look out for when someone can back their words up."

"Then how do I know when someone is just talking big?" Erick asked in frustration, crossing his arms.

Lance arched a brow, "You don't. A smart person would take everything their opponent claims seriously. Chances are that someday you'll be able to tell what a person is or is not capable of. Until that day, assume they can do everything they claim, and prepare for it as best as you can, as fast as you can. Now get ready to dodge."

Erick's eyes widened as Lance darted forwards, much slower than before, but still fast. He barely ducked under the first punch, but a leg hooked his feet out from under him, sending him toppling down. He recalled what Lance had said about ending up on the ground, and immediately rolled away and to his feet. Lance was already coming at him again as soon as he regained his footing. The gunner's eyes were fixed on him, but obviously fairly bored and unimpressed so far. Erick gritted his teeth and dodged the next hit, this time taking care to keep Lance in sight as he moved. He twisted to dodge a palm strike to his shoulder, but still took a glancing hit that sent him staggering back, off balance.

The training went on that way with Lance attacking, and Erick dodging. The gunner began leaving less and less time for recovery between stumbles, forcing the boy to react faster to avoid getting a new bruise. Lance finally called it quits after an hour. Erick slumped to the ground in relief, breathing heavily, and stiffy rubbing around a few aching bruises. A canteen appeared in his vision, and he accepted it gratefully to chug down. As soon as he was done, he felt a strange warmth run through his body. He tensed, but the sensation faded almost as soon as it had begun, and as it faded, so did the aches from his bruises. Lance was casting a healing spell on him to take care of the marks and pain.

"Not bad for a first round," Lance commented as he tossed down his bedroll and passed some more dried food over. He gave a half-smirk at Erick's bashful thanks, and added, "Keep that up, and you might actually live two minutes in a fight."

Erick went back to scowling. Lance, he was beginning really understand, was an aggravating jerk. Still, his frustration soon faded as he realized it was for his own good, and that, overall, the gunner was far nicer than he was mean. Plus, he couldn't really imagine the man as anything different. In fact, Lance kind of reminded him of one of his uncles: gruff and blunt, but definitely caring. Of course, Lance lacked the bushy beard his uncle had had. That got the boy wondering how old Lance really was. The gunner often acted like some of his older cousins what with the teasing and brash humor, but he thought with reason and logic like an older, wiser man.

"So how old are you?"

Lance arched a brow at the sudden question, "Twenty-one. Why?"

Erick gave him a toothy grin, "Just thinking you act like an old man."

"Can it, squirt."

"You asked."

"Yes, I did, and now I'm wondering why," Lance muttered in a droll tone. He pointed at the bedroll he'd laid out and said, "Get to sleep. We're leaving at dawn tomorrow, and I don't want to hear complaints about how tired a certain kid is because he stayed up too late talking to old geezers."

Erick's grin widened, but he obediently scampered into the bedroll. He snuggled down and rolled onto his side to see Lance had settled down against a rock not far away. "Aren't you going to sleep, too?"

"Of course."

"Then where's your bedroll?" Erick asked in confusion.

Lance rolled his eyes, "A certain kid is using it right now. Besides, we're technically in hostile territory, and I'd rather be able to react in a moment's notice; getting tangled up in a bedroll is not conducive to that. Now go to sleep."

Erick was unsatisfied with that answer, and still wondering how Lance planned to sleep sitting up against a rock. But it had been a long, busy day, and he was very tired. His eyelids slowly drooped until they shut and he fell into a dreamless sleep. Lance watched the boy from where he sat on watch, though he would sleep lightly as well. He patted himself on the back for exhausting the kid into not dwelling. And, irritating comments aside, Erick was a bright young boy and quick on picking up fighting. He just hoped the emotional course stayed steady for a while longer, at least until they had horses and could outpace any potential pursuers.

The next morning, Lance jostled Erick awake, and left to go snag something to eat for breakfast with explicit directions to stay put. The boy nodded obediently and settled down against the rock Lance had leaned against the night before. He tilted his head back with a yawn to look up at the early morning sky. It was the first day in several that he'd risen with the sun, since before he'd been sent by his father to negotiate a stock trade with a neighboring farm. The thought sent a shard of pain through him. He glared down at his hands as he thought that he should have been there to help protect him. But he could almost hear Lance's acerbic voice saying almost immediately that he'd have only wound up dead alongside them.

"Hey, I found some game for breakfast," Lance's actual voice suddenly said.

Erick looked up again to see the gunner standing over him with a dead bird of some kind in one hand. He nodded silently and turned his gaze back down, prompting Lance to frown. The gunner scanned his charge with narrowed eyes for a moment before deciding the boy was dwelling. With a silent sigh, he turned to begin cleaning and jointing the kill to roast. A few minutes passed in silence before he spoke again.

"Go do some pushups," Lance said.

Erick started at the sudden order and frowned in confusion, "Pushups?"

"Yeah, to build your arm strength up."

The boy scowled, "What's it matter? I'm too small to do anything, anyway."

Lance paused in the process of building a spit to put over the fire he'd built, and turned to fix a sour look at the boy. "Oh, my mistake, I was under the impression you liked living," he said sarcastically. "Should I leave you to your own devices of getting strong on your own? Let me know how that goes for you, if you live."

Erick's head whipped up to glare at Lance with tears in his eyes as he spat, "It's easy for you to say! I'm only thirteen, I have never had to fight for anything in my life, my family is dead, and I'm too small to defend myself so I'm stuck traveling with some stranger with a bad attitude!"

Lance scowled back, and hissed, "I don't particularly care about your little self-pity party, you ungrateful, whiney, snot-nosed brat, and I know the world at large doesn't care, either. You're may only be thirteen now, but it's escaped your notice that you'll get older. Everyone has to fight for something in their life sooner or later, and you are no exception. As for traveling with me: I'm one of the best bodyguards you could ever hope for. It was out of sympathy and understanding that I offered to teach you, but if you don't want to learn, then fine. Just shut up until we get to where we're going."

And with that, Lance turned his back on the stunned kid he'd just chewed out. The gunner speared the bird he'd cleaned onto the spit and set it over the fire. The air was silent and filled with tension as the meat cooked. Lance refused to look at the distraught kid behind him, who was silently crying. He said nothing as he jabbed a skewer of cooked meat in Erick's direction with one hand. The boy took it silently, and stared at it blankly without eating. Lance noted that and rolled his eyes with a huff as he finished off his share of the food.

"Eat. We've got a long way to walk today, and I'm definitely not carrying you," Lance ordered flatly as he moved to put out the fire.

"I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry, now eat the damn food, brat."

Something in Lance's voice sent a shiver down the boy's spine, and he obediently began to nibble on the roast bird. As soon as he took that first bite, his stomach reminded him of exactly how hungry he was and he ate more quickly. As soon as he was done, Lance curtly said they were leaving. The boy scrambled to fall in step behind Lance. The entire day passed in almost complete silence aside from a brief battle where Lance deftly took out a pair of Earth Elementals that rose from the ground. He was ruthless with his magic and bullets and the fight barely took five minutes. Erick was in awe, and more so when Lance merely brushed off the fight as if it were nothing new.

That afternoon, they reach the town of Bluegrass and Lance headed directly for the stables. He ordered Erick to stay close and not talk to anyone. The boy distractedly nodded as he gaped at the bustling town. It was far bigger than the small hamlet he normally went to buy and sell things. People bustled everywhere, and there was a constant din as stall owners sold attempted to sway passersby to browse and buy their wares. Animals bayed and snorted everywhere, and children ran between adults' legs chasing each other.

"Yes, I need two horses; preferably fast, and docile if at all possible," Lance was saying to the owner of the horses.

"Let's see… I 'ave a pair of six year olds that seem ta be what yer lookin' for," the man replied, chewing slowly on a piece of straw in his mouth.

He gestured for Lance to follow, and by extension, Erick. He led them to a row of stalls and stopped in front of a pair that had two horses in them. One was a bay with a white blaze down its nose and white socks on its front feet. The other was almost pure black aside from a white star. The man led one out and then the other for Lance to inspect. The horses moved smoothly and calmly as they were led. Lance ran his hands over their legs, checking for swelling or deformations before nodding.

"They look good," he agreed. "How much for the pair, tack, and feed for a few days?"

"That'll come out to 'bout twenty-five grand," the man replied evenly.

Erick choked some at the price, but Lance merely replied, "Twenty."

"Twenty-four," the man countered.

"Twenty-one," Lance replied evenly.

"Twenty three; no lower," the seller said firmly.

Lance shrugged, "I guess I'll have to go browse around, then."

He turned to go, but was stopped by the man. "Wait, how about twenty-three, and I'll throw in some buckets for the feed and water as well as a pair o' picket lines on top o' some care tools?"

Lance turned back with a smile, and held out his hand, "It's a deal. Thank you."

They shook and soon Lance was tacking up the horses after paying out the twenty-three thousand gold. He had a brief discussion with the man who'd sold them, and left the horses there while he went to get supplies for their journey after paying two hundred for a short boarding fee. The man also promised to warm the horses up for their journey. Lance led Erick back out of the dim barn and into the busy streets. The gunner was peering around at the stalls, searching for one that would sell what he needed. Finally, he nodded to himself, and set off through the crowd with Erick struggling to keep up behind him.

"I need a cloak, some clothes suited for travel, and a bedroll for the boy with me," Lance was saying when Erick reached him.

The elderly woman smiled down at Erick and nodded as she brought out a series of clothes for Lance to inspect. A short discussion of quality and one hundred fifty thousand gold later—which was an insane price for such a small amount of goods to Erick—and the pair left with three outfits of rough fabric, two cloaks, and a bedroll with a fur lining.

Their next stop was a food stall where Lance bought a large supply of dried food for travel as well as a loaf of bread for the first leg of their journey. Erick was bored as he trotted after Lance to their third stop. He had had enough of the bustling town and he was hungry, but Lance showed no signs of slowing down or stopping for lunch. On top of that, Lance was making him carry his new clothing, and the packages were unwieldy and difficult to carry while weaving through the crowd. Plus, there was still a strained tension between them, as there had been all day. Thankfully, their third stop was inside, and there was a bench for him to sit down on.

"Yes, I need a pouch for the twerp with me," Lance said to the shop keeper. He hesitated before adding, "And a fighting knife, too, as well as any healing pots you might carry."

Erick looked up from his swinging feet at the strange order. Everything they'd bought until now had been related to traveling, but now it seemed as though Lance was preparing for battle. It didn't make much sense to get a knife, though: the gunner had a fine blade already that was far superior to a knife. But he soon lost interest in the conversation as the two adults began discussing wards, and seals, and other things far outside his understanding. Their tones were hushed as though they didn't want him hearing, anyway. Twenty minutes, and another two hundred thousand gold later, and they left the store. Erick was wondering how Lance had so much gold, or if maybe the gunner had a magical coin purse with infinite gold in it. Lance tucked the goods he had purchased into the new pouch, and tied it next to a similar one at his waist.

"Okay, let's get some food, and then we'll go," Lance announced through a sigh.

Erick brightened at the prospect of eating, and a bounce returned to his step. He followed Lance eagerly as the gunner headed for an open-air food court. They each got a bowl of hearty stew, a small loaf of bread to share, and some juice before sitting down at a table near the edge of the clusters. Erick began digging into his, eating rapidly and messily. A snort from Lance had him glancing up to see the man watching him with amusement. His cheeks heated in embarrassment as he became highly aware of a drop of stew on his nose. He subconsciously wiped it off with his finger.

"It's good," Erick claimed defensively.

Lance arched a brow, "Oh, I know. Don't worry: you don't have quite as bad of manners as one of my friends."

The conversation died after that as they focused on eating. Erick was swiping up the last bits of soup with a chunk of bread when Lance tensed. The gunner twisted to look down the street, and cursed under his breath. He slid the bench back and stood up calmly. Erick looked up in confusion, chewing on the bread in his mouth as Lance snatched his bundle of clothes and stuffed them in one of the magical pouches.

"What's wrong?" Erick asked.

Lance made a subtle gesture to keep quiet. "We need to go. Now. Don't rush, and don't look panicked," he said in a low tone.

Erick's eyes widened, but he tried to act casual as he followed Lance out of the food court. The gunner pretended to be inspecting the stalls they passed, pausing by one or two before shaking his head and moving on. The boy following him noticed, however, that they were on a steady course for the stables. They made it inside and saw their two horses tied and ready to go. Lance ordered Erick to check the saddles' tightness while he went to go find the stable owner to tell them they were leaving.

The boy did as he was asked, any and all previous antagonizing thoughts or feelings he had towards Lance were gone. His fingers were trembling as he pulled the girths tight from how they'd been loosened with no rider. He was afraid, he realized, afraid of whatever had Lance wanting to leave immediately. He recalled Lance's lessons in fighting the day before, and he really hoped he'd remember them if it came to actual combat. He relaxed some when Lance returned, and blinked in surprise when the gunner held out the pouch he'd bought as well as the knife.

"Don't stick yourself with the pointy end, and don't drop it," Lance said flatly as he fixed the knife belt with the pouch tied to it to the boy's waist and cinched it in place to keep it from slipping. He stood back and cupped his hands as a leg up for the boy, still talking, "It's not a throwing knife, so don't try that. Don't threaten anyone who isn't already threatening you. Don't point it towards yourself. Don't let it out of your sight. And for gods' sake, quit gaping at me and get on the damn horse."

Erick hadn't realized his jaw had dropped and he'd been staring at Lance. He scrambled forwards and was boosted onto the bay horse. Lance swiftly adjusted the stirrups for his shorter legs and held the lead until the boy had gripped the reins. He then moved for the black horse and untied it before vaulting into the saddle with a spring. He nudged the horse forwards, and led the way out of the barn. As soon as they were outside, Lance kicked his horse into a trot, heading for the nearby exit of the town. He glanced back to make sure Erick was keeping up, and nodded at the proper deep seat and foot placement in the stirrups the boy had. He turned his gaze forwards as they headed through the gate, and then waited for Erick to pass him before moving again. He urged their pace to a canter.

"You take the lead. Head northeast until I call for a change. If we end up in combat, get out of here as fast as you can. I'll find you, I promise," Lance told the boy in a tone of upmost seriousness over the steady drumming of hooves. He hesitated before adding, "If you need a place to stay until I reach you, then head home. There isn't much left, but at least it'll be a roof and water, and I doubt they'll look for you there after what they did to the place."

"Wh-what if they do find me? What should I do?" Erick asked nervously. He tried to calm himself as he saw his mount's ears flick, catching his unease.

Lance noticed that, too, and spoke calmly and firmly, "They won't. Nothing and no one will get you so long as I'm alive, and they can't kill me. Don't worry, kid, you'll be fine."

Erick pouted at being called a kid again, but had relaxed immensely. He nodded, "Okay, I trust you, Lance."

Lance shot the boy's back a grim smile, but was soon distracted by a sound from behind them. He cursed under his breath as he looked back and saw two riders charging after them with weapons drawn. "We've got company. Ride ahead, Erick, I'll catch up soon. Remember your crash course in weapons, and don't lose your horse."

Erick's mount shot off like a bullet while Lance slowed his and turned to the side. He raised one palm and focused a narrow jolt of lightning through it. The bolt struck the front rider's horse in the chest. Immediately, the horse reared and toppled back, throwing its rider, and tripping the horse behind it. The thrown rider hit the ground and remained still, though whether dead or merely winded from the fall, Lance didn't know. But he didn't stop, instead loading a bullet into his gunblade. He lined up the shot and pulled the trigger.

Two things happened in the next instant. One, his target went down with a bullet in his head. Two, Lance's horse objected the over-loud sound from right next to it. It took off running, leaving Lance to drop his gunblade in favor of hauling back on the reins. He hadn't factored in the problem that the horses he'd bought were good for riding, but not trained for combat. He mentally berated himself for overlooking that important detail as he heaved on the reins, pulling hard with his right arm to force the horse to circle. He held tight to that turn, speaking calmly to the panicked animal all the while until it tired and grew dizzy enough to stop.

The gunner slid to the ground and gathered the reins up, still soothing the horse as he led it in a looser circle. The horse's flanks were gleaming with sweat, and it was breathing heavily, and though the whites of its eyes were still showing, it was rapidly calming down. Lance rubbed its shoulder, making a face at the wet hide, and led it back the short way they had run. His eyes scanned the grass for his discarded weapon, and he ruefully thought of his recent directions to Erick to never drop his weapon.

"Some example I'm setting, huh?" Lance asked the horse wryly as he spied his gunblade and scooped it up. The horse huffed in what Lance decided was reluctant sympathy. He looked back at the other two horses with a considering look. The two men had stayed down, meaning they were both probably dead. "Well, at least that will stop pursuers for now, I guess."

Lance swung back up onto his horse's back and turned to check the bodies to be sure. Both were dead, and their horses milled a short distance away. Neither horse looked injured, just nervous. Lance guided his horse closer to them and they remained still, watching his approach. They allowed him to swing down and search their saddle bags as they greeted his horse with soft nuzzles. Lance withdrew anything valuable as well as a warrant for Erick's life. He pursed his lips as he studied the warrant before pocketing it. He turned his eyes to the two other horses.

One was copper-colored chestnut mare with a brown mane and tail and no markings. The other was also a mare with a bay and white painted coat. He had no idea how old either was, but they moved easily and had good lines for speed. And they had weathered the falls they'd taken with ease, meaning they were relatively sturdy. Or lucky. He supposed either was a good thing to be.

"Well, I might as well take you with me," Lance told them as he fished out the two picket leads he'd gotten that morning and loosened their saddles a little. He clipped the leads to their bridles before swinging back onto his horse and tied the other ends to his saddle. "If nothing else, I can sell you somewhere for some extra gold. In the meantime, you can be our backup mounts so two can rest."

The horses' ears flicked at his voice, and while they balked some at being led, they soon followed easily enough. Lance turned his mind and sense towards finding Erick. The boy would have had a good head start, but Lance could still sense his faint mana signature, giving him a rough direction to head in. He kicked his horse into a trot and the two he was leading tossed their heads as their leads tightened before they picked up the pace. All was still and silent aside from the rhythmic drumming of hooves.

They passed a shallow stream where Lance found hoof prints in the mud as he watered the horses. He figured they must be from Erick's mount, and considering the direction they were headed, the boy was arrowing for home. They set off again, this time at a canter until they reached the remains of the farm. The fields were burned and barren, and the house was ransacked with broken windows and front door, but still stood. The barn stood as well, though burn marks showed how the attackers had attempted to burn it. Lance sensed Erick was in the barn at the moment, and he called a greeting.

"Hey, I'm here, kid."

There was a rustle from the barn before the boy's head warily poked out. Erick's face was tight with worry, but slackened at the sight of Lance with no wounds. The boy soon became confused at the sight of two more horses, but shrugged it off as he came out to take one from Lance to lead inside the barn where he'd stowed his own horse with some hay and water. Lance led the other two in behind the boy.

"Was everything clear on your way here?" Lance asked Erick.

The boy nodded, though his voice was subdued, "Yeah, I had no trouble." He was silent for a few moments before saying, "I… hadn't fully believed what you said about… about my family, but I can't deny it, now."

Lance blew out a sigh as he looked around. "My friends and I split up to get the families with mana around here to safety. I tried to get here quickly, but I was still too slow," he recalled quietly. His eyes narrowed as he added coldly, "I couldn't believe the Sect would kill an innocent farm family because their ancestors used magic. The only ones who'd been killed before now were people who actively used magic. The ones who simply had the potential were rounded up and incarcerated, not killed."

Erick swallowed as he whispered, "I didn't even know my family could ever use magic." He raised an arm to brush away the tears budding in his eyes. When he pulled his arm away, he had a look of almost desperate determination. He met Lance's gaze and said firmly, "Please keep teaching me how to fight, and teach me how to use my magic. You're right that I won't be thirteen and small forever, so I might as well get a head start on learning. I want to be able to defend myself and the people important to me so nothing like this ever happens on my watch."

Lance studied the boy in front of him for several long, silent moments. Finally, he smirked, "Alright, that's what I like to hear. I'll teach you what I can, and you'll be the most dangerous thirteen year old alive." He held his hand up to halt Erick's excited thanks and added very seriously, "But I do not want you ever using what I'm going to teach you for the wrong reasons. Fighting should be done to defend yourself or as a way of life, not for vengeance. I don't want you getting it into your head that you can get revenge for your family with the skills I'll be giving you. You won't manage it before this mess is done with, anyway."

Erick nodded firmly, "Of course. Killing them won't make my family come back, and it will give them a reason to come after me."

Lance didn't mention that the Sect already had a reason to come after him simply because of his mana. Instead, he nodded approvingly, "Very good. Now, we'll spend the night here, but we won't start training until tomorrow. I want you to spend tonight resting and mourning. It's important to come to complete terms with your loss so it won't distract you in the future. I don't expect you to manage that all tonight, but do what you can while you're here. The graves are behind the house. I marked them with their names."

Erick nodded again, this time with a distressed frown. He turned to leave the barn and headed for the three graves, exactly where Lance had said they'd be. The markers were simple, made of wood with the roughly carved names of his parents and sister on them. Three chipped mugs had been salvaged from the house and each bore a bouquet of flowers as offerings. The flowers were beginning to wilt, however, so Erick left to get some fresh wildflowers to replace them. After that, he merely knelt in front of the graves and prayed for his family to rest well.

Hours passed and the sun set before Lance came with two plates of food. He held one out to Erick and sat down beside the boy. He didn't comment on the tears on the boy's cheeks or the way he turned away as though ashamed of crying. He ran his eyes over the fresh flowers at the bases of the markers, and offered his own silent prayer and a promise to look out for their surviving son and brother.

"I used to play hopscotch with Rachel here," Erick suddenly said. He'd silently eaten his food and was now looking across the dirt yard. He gave a soft, sad laugh. "She was so bad at it; couldn't balance on one foot for anything. That didn't stop her from trying, though. She always claimed the ground tripped her when she fell down."

Lance nodded slightly, but said nothing. He could tell the boy was just remembering, and speaking aloud—perhaps not even to him, but to the graves. After a few moments, the boy went on, recalling many moments and quirks of his family. He talked about how his mother made the best cherry pie, and would pretend she didn't see him and his sister poking their fingers in the filling before she was done to taste it, but would scold them for it later. He remembered how he'd help his dad with the fields during the day, and how the man had taught them during the night. He talked about a tree he loved to climb at the far end of the field and how he used to want to build a tree house in it, but had ultimately decided he liked being able to move around the branches. He talked and talked about the animals they had raised and crops they grew, about holidays and chores, about bad storms and stories. He talked himself into tears, but didn't let that stop him. At some point Lance had pulled him into a one armed hug, and the boy leaned into his side.

It was the second time the boy had cried himself to sleep, and the second time Lance carried him to his bedroll, spread out on a pile of soft hay in the barn. But unlike the first time it had happened, Erick was smiling in his sleep, fondly remembering his family. And when he woke in the morning at Lance's shake, his eyes glittered with resolve to become strong. They spent an hour before breakfast training together before eating. They brushed their horses out before tacking them up, and Erick procured some more lines from the tack room in the barn to bring with them. He listened intently to Lance's directions on the magic pouch at his waist and pulled out everything Lance had stored within the day before. He had a stash of healing potions to heal himself in emergencies if Lance couldn't heal him, or in the rare but possible case that the gunner was unconscious and needed healing. He also had two canteens full of water, a supply of dried food, a flint and steel and tinder for fire, his clothes, a small pouch full of gold, a whetstone to sharpen his knife, a map, and a strange amulet.

"It'll hide your mana," Lance explained when Erick held it up. He held the boy's eyes as he explained, "Wear it under your clothes to avoid people tracking you by your magic. If we're ever separated for more than an hour, put it on. I can find you still, albeit with some trouble, but most people won't be able to. You'll wear it in towns from now on, too."

"Do you have one?" Erick asked as he ran his finger over the dull green stone set into the pendant. It hadn't occurred to him before then that Lance would be a hunted man because he used magic.

Lance nodded, "Yes, but I almost never use it. I want to attract their attention because I can kill the idiots behind this mess. And if they're actively looking for me, then they're ignoring people like you who have mana, but can't use it or aren't as strong. My own mana will more than drown yours out if you're near me."

"Got it," Erick said with a nod as he replaced all his supplies in his pouch. He tied the pouch firmly to his belt and tested the knot before tugging on his cloak to cover it and his knife.

"One more thing," Lance added after he'd boosted Erick into the saddle of the bay horse he'd ridden the day before. "If we are separated for a long time, head north. Our ultimate goal is a place called Winterstone. Don't trust anyone on your way. I have friends I'd trust you with, but you don't know what they look like, and they don't know you at all, and we're well enough known that people will try to trick you with our names."

"How many friends?" Erick asked as he gathered up his reins. The paint horse was tied to his saddled, and stood calmly not far away.

"Only three in my group," Lance replied as he mounted. "There's a swordsman named Matt, a mage named Natalie, and a ranger named Anna. I trust each of them with my life, and they're just as strong and skilled as I am; more so, in some ways. We may run across one of them on our trip, but it's doubtful."

The pair set out, leaving behind the farm. As they traveled that day, Lance began to teach Erick about how to control mana. By lunch, the boy hadn't quite grasped it, but he was trying. By afternoon, he was managing a few weak sparkles, but nothing substantial. They spent an hour before bed doing physical training again, including how to use a knife. The next day passed much the same, though they had switched the horses they were riding. Erick now rode the paint mare while Lance rode the chestnut mare. They skirted a town as they continued their journey north. Erick continued to focus on his magic during the ride, though he also chatted with Lance, learning a little more about the gunner and his teammates. The boy began to realize and really appreciate that Lance was quite brilliant, and not truly mean, but definitely blunt in his speech and approach. He also realized that the gunner, while always trying to do the right thing for him, quickly got frustrated if Erick began to complain and pout. He supposed the man hadn't had much contact with children before—not that he was a child, of course.

"We should name the horses," Erick suggested one evening after he'd rubbed the animals' legs down, something he'd taught Lance was important for an animal's health after a lot of exercise.

Lance arched a brow, "Why? They won't understand you."

Erick arched a brow back, a habit he was picking up from Lance. "Because it would be easier and faster to call for a specific horse than to say, hey, bring me the brown one—no, the other brown one."

Lance snorted at the poor imitation of his voice, but admitted Erick had a point. The scenario he'd just been given was one that had happened that morning. "Fine, we can name the beasts. What should we call them? I somehow doubt horse one through four is going to sit well with you."

"Hmm," Erick hummed as he studied the small herd of horses picketed not far away and grazing peacefully. "We'll call the paint Splash-"

"Very creative," Lance said sarcastically.

Erick ignored him and went on, "And the bay can be… Walnut."

"The names only get better, too," Lance smirked. He chuckled when the boy shot him a look.

"Well why don't you name the two you've been riding since my names are so boring?" Erick huffed.

Lance's eyebrows shot up, "Do One and Two work?"

"Now look who's so creative," the boy mocked. He ducked a small rock thrown at him, and tossed a chunk of bread back.

Lance rolled his eyes as he caught the bread and ate it, and said, "Well, since clearly one of us has to be creative at naming, and One and Two are dumb names, anyway, I'll call the black one Arrow, and the chestnut Sage."

"Okay, those are pretty good," Erick admitted around a mouthful of bread. He swallowed and added, "I like them—the horses I mean. I've never ridden a better one before."

"Well don't get too attached to them, because I'm planning on selling two of them when we get to a town that will buy them, and the other two when we get to Winterstone," Lance grunted. At Erick's pout, he blew out a long-suffering sigh and said, "Fine, we'll keep one, but that's it."

"You are such a softy," Erick chuckled. He regretted that a moment later when Lance ordered him to do forty pushups before bed, and the gunner crawled into his bedroll with exaggerated noises of comfort. "I take it back, you're evil," he muttered as he moved to do the pushups.

"Make it fifty pushups," Lance replied without looking back.

Wisely, Erick remained quiet for the rest of the workout.

The next morning dawned gray and chilly. But despite the obvious signs of later rain, Lance had Erick do the usual hour of physical training. The boy had gotten quite good over the past week of traveling with Lance. He still had yet to hit the gunner, but he did manage to dodge almost all of the hits Lance made at him. He wished his magic was progressing as smoothly as his fighting, though. He hadn't been able to get anywhere past some harmless sparkles no matter what Lance suggested he try or how he pushed himself. When he mentioned his frustration to Lance, the gunner shrugged.

"Well, it's always possible that you just don't have enough innate mana to cast spells," Lance told the boy as they rode. He shot Erick a sympathetic smile when the boy gave a disappointed sigh. "Hey, my friend Matt can't really use his magic either, and he's still an amazing fighter. And it's also possible that you just need to be a little older before your magic develops to the point where you can use it. Keep practicing at it."

Erick nodded slightly with a frown. He'd been looking forwards to using magic. Barely a second later, and he saw Lance stiffen and twist to look behind them. He was about to look, but a hand on his chest shoved him clean off Splash. He hit the ground with a grunt and heard a sharp cracking sound that he recognized as a bullet. The paint horse reared and took off, still tied to Walnut who ran after her. Another crack sounded, and Lance let out a grunt and whirled his horse to run back the way they'd come. Erick stayed down, realizing Lance had pushed him down to keep him out of sight. He heard a few brief yells and the thundering of hooves before Lance's horses dashed past.

The smell of burning air rose up and the ground shook briefly, and Erick couldn't help lifting his head to see what was happening. His jaw dropped wide open at what he saw. Lance had summoned a purple lightning storm to engulf a group of fighters. He currently had his gunblade locked against another man's longsword, but smoothly ducked out of the lock when he was attacked from the side, sending the first man stumbling forwards off balance into the second man. He nimbly twisted over a different slash and shot a third fighter dead while still in the air, landing on his shoulder to roll into a stab. The lightning sparked out of existence only to be replaced with fire. The remaining fighters screamed as they died, leaving only Lance standing over their bodies.

Erick was stunned: he'd never seen or heard of anyone who fought that well. But his awe soon faded as he saw Lance press one hand against his stomach with a wince. Immediately, Erick scrambled to his feet to run over to Lance. He stopped before reaching the gunner when the man whipped around to level his gunblade at him with a wild look in his eyes. Before the boy could make any movement or noise, however, Lance lowered his weapon with a shaky sigh. He gestured Erick closer, and frowned when the boy seemed hesitant to approach.

"I'm not going to shoot you," Lance said impatiently. He rolled his eyes and went on when Erick remained still, "Look, it was just an instinct. You were running up to me right after a fight, and I thought you might be another enemy. Now get over here so I don't have to yell."

Erick finally approached with a hesitant and apologetic smile. His smile soon faded away in favor of a scrunched up expression at the stench of burning flesh. "Yuck," he muttered as he reached Lance's side. He peered at the now-bloody hand Lance had pressed to his torso and asked worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"That is the dumbest question anyone has ever asked," Lance said flatly. He sarcastically muttered to himself, "Am I okay? For gods' sake, can you not see the blood?"

Erick flinched, and asked in a small voice, "Are you going to be okay?"

Lance snorted at that, but his expression softened a little at the obvious distress on Erick's face. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I've already used a little healing magic on it, but I'm not actually very good at that so I'll need to bandage the wound. Do you think you can retrieve our horses while I do that?"

The boy nodded and turned to peer across the grassy field. He saw one of the pairs of horses not far away, and set off after it. Just as he did so, the first few drops of rain began to fall. Lance let out a grumble with a sour glance at the cloudy sky, but ultimately ignored the falling water, and sat down to inspect his wound. He let out a hiss as the movement jostled the bullet he could still feel buried in the flesh. The gunner took a deep breath, and pulled out a small knife from his adventure pouch to dig the bullet free. Each motion caused an excruciating jolt of agony to shoot through him, and he repeatedly wished that Natalie or Anna were there to use some healing magic.

"I suppose I've been spoiled," he muttered to himself through gritted teeth with a grim smirk as he finally dislodged the bullet.

A short spurt of blood followed the object, and Lance let it run for the moment as he dug out a roll of bandage and the antiseptic. A few minutes of hissed curses later—from cleaning the wound and struggling with the bandage—and he had successfully wrapped the wound. He let out a sigh of relief as he allowed his shirt to drop back over the bandage, and sipped some water to clear his head before pushing his now-sodden bangs out of his eyes to peer after Erick. It was taking the boy a long time to retrieve their mounts, but he could just see their shapes in the distance.

Erick had successfully retrieved all four horses, though it taken longer than he would have liked. The horses were all skittish after the brief but loud battle, and he'd had to calm them before approaching. But now he was back on Splash, and leading the other three towards where Lance was just stiffly getting off the ground. The boy felt a flash of worry for the man at the obvious pain in his movements. He wondered if maybe they should find a place to rest until Lance had healed, and resolved to ask Lance about doing so.

"How're you feeling?" Erick asked as he pulled up beside Lance.

"Like I've been shot," Lance grunted nonchalantly with a smirk at his own twisted humor. He reached for the reins of Arrow, and let out a short grunt as he swung into the saddle. He missed Erick's gaze flicking between focusing on the watery blood staining his hand, and the bloody strip of bandage he'd used to clean the wound left on the ground. He did, however, glance around when the boy cleared his throat, "What's up?"

"Is there anywhere we can go so you can rest up?" Erick asked.

Lance arched a brow, "You think this little scratch is going to be a problem? I've had way worse in the past, trust me."

"But still…"

"I'll be fine," Lance said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "Now come on, we can still cover some distance, even in this miserable weather."

Without any further pause, the gunner wheeled his horse north and kicked its sides to start moving. Neither his expression nor his posture showed any of the discomfort he felt with every step that jolted his wound. Erick followed silently behind the man, still frowning with worry.

Their traveling was, as Lance had described it, miserable. The rain had soaked their clothing so that it clung to their skin, and filled their boots with water. The air was chilly, and made worse by the wetness. They had to be careful where they let their mounts walk, as the road was very slick with mud in places. Finally, Lance decided they should simply call it a day as they passed a rocky overhang. Erick swung down and moved to picket his horses not far away. He then did the same with Lance's horses without a word. The gunner moved under the rocky overhang and tossed down his bedroll before working to peel off his sodden clothes to change into dry ones. But he paused in taking his shirt off, unable to quite suppress a sharp inhale of pain as he strained his injury.

"Let me help," Erick offered in a worried voice. He didn't wait for Lance's reply, but began tugging on the hem of the gunner's shirt to pull it up over his head.

"Thanks," Lance mumbled as he watched Erick spread his jacket and shirt out to dry. He was able to get his own pants off by himself, and pulled on a dry pair.

Erick changed his own clothes, occasionally shooting concerned looks at Lance and the bloody bandage wrapped around his waist. "Maybe we should change that bandage or use a healing potion?" he ventured.

Lance shook his head, "No potions on something as minor as this. We only have five, and they're potent enough that I'd rather save them for a serious wound." He shifted slightly before adding, "But changing the bandage is a good idea. I'll try some more healing since the bullet is out now, too."

Erick opened his mouth to protest, but gave up with a frustrated sigh when Lance merely arched a brow and began unwinding the bandage around his stomach. He moved forwards to help when he saw the gunner's stiff movements that betrayed the pain he was still in. The boy bit his lower lip as he carefully peeled the bloody bandage away from the wound, causing Lance to let out an unintentional hiss and the wound began to trickle fresh blood. Erick subconsciously hushed Lance as he began cleaning the wound with shaking hands. It wasn't the first cut he'd bandaged before as he often helped when his family or a worker had gotten hurt from farm equipment, but the thoughts of what could happen to him if Lance died from infection or being weakened were scary. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was also afraid of what those facts meant for Lance.

"Leave the bandage off for a little while, give it a chance to scab," Lance suddenly said, breaking into Erick's thoughts.

The boy started slightly, and realized he'd finished cleaning the wound and had automatically reached for a fresh roll of bandage. He nodded slightly and moved back to snag some of the food from his adventure pouch to offer to Lance. The gunner fixed him with a half-amused, half-exasperated look as he accepted the food.

"You need to relax, Erick," Lance said firmly. He bit into the apple he'd been given and mumbled, "Seriously, you're acting like my mother or something."

OOOOOO

Erick's eyes widened in fear as he watched Lance take a hit and stumble before toppling to the ground. The weakness caused by fever from infection had done exactly what Erick had feared it would, and cost Lance the battle—and likely his life. The gunner was going to be killed, and his charge soon after.

Without any real thought or consideration, Erick leapt out of his hiding place behind the tree, and charged forwards. Subconsciously, he drew the dagger strapped to his waist, and rammed it into the back of the man standing over Lance with a sword raised. The man howled in surprised pain, but wasn't stopped by the blow. But then, Erick felt a wild tug on something within him, and electricity suddenly shot out from the dagger. With a startled shout, the boy let go of the blade and staggered back to watch wide-eyed as lightning arced over the man's erratically shaking body before blinking out.

The man stayed where he was for a moment, steaming and twitching, until he toppled back, dead. Glazed eyes were frozen wide with pain and shock, staring sightlessly upwards. Angry red webbing stretched across the skin of his face, and the air was filled with the awful stench of burning flesh. Erick gaped at what he'd done, his face pale and his eyes wide. Abruptly, he felt a wave of nausea, and promptly vomited on the ground. He'd killed a man, his mind chanted over and over. Someonewas dead forever because of his direct actions. He threw up again at the thought.

Erick was trembling as he finally worked his body under control. He took a shuddering breath in, but cut it off when the stench filled his nostrils. Tears welled in his eyes as he tore them away from the corpse, and over to Lance. The gunner had been unnervingly silent, and hadn't moved from where he was crumpled on the ground. With a sharp inhale, Erick temporarily forgot about the murder, and darted over to Lance's side to inspect his wounds. He refused to consider the possibility that the gunner was dead. Lance had promised they couldn't kill him, and Lance didn't break promises.

Blood stained a tear in the gunner's green camo jacket, and his skin was unhealthily pale. But his cheeks were still flushed from fever and glistened with sweat, and he still sucked in raspy breaths. Erick let out a shaky laugh and tugged away the gunblade still loosely grasped in Lance's right hand. It would be bad to be decapitated before finishing tending the wounded man, after all. But Lance remained out for the entire time his wounds were cleaned and bandaged. The infected wound was swollen and an angry red, and to Erick's alarm, getting a yellowish crust on the edges. Red lines stretched out from the wound, snaking across Lance's skin, and showing just how badly the infection had progressed.

"I told you we should have stopped to rest," Erick whispered as he fished out one of the healing potions he had. This situation definitely fell under desperate enough to require one of the five potions.

But to Erick's horror, he couldn't get Lance to swallow much, if any, of the remedy. He tried smearing some on the wound, but it didn't have any noticeable effect. Panic raced through him, now. He was in the middle of nowhere with Lance down and probably dying. The nearest village was over a day away on foot, and the horses had run off again. Plus Lance would need to be protected while so incapacitated, so he couldn't just leave him here to go get help. If there was even anyone at the town who could or would help them.

"Heh… guess you were right… for once… kid," Lance suddenly rasped.

Erick's head snapped up to fix a watery look on Lance to find feverish eyes looking back. Immediately, he snatched up the potion and held it out to Lance. "Quick, drink this," he urged in a shaky tone.

Lance shook his head, and blinked slowly. "Potions don't… heal infection…" He sluggishly reached for his adventure pouch and withdrew a small metal cross to hold out for Erick to take."Here… my friends will… will recognize this… just pin it to…the tie of your cloak. Don't forget to wear… your pendant…"

Tears began rushing down Erick's cheeks as he realized Lance was telling him to move on by himself. "I can't just abandon you here," he whimpered even as he took the cross.

Lance took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, the air rattling in his chest. "Erick… I'm not going to make it… without healing magic… and no healer in their right mind… is practicing magic right now… And my friends need to know… what happened to me… Please…"

Erick gave a choked sob and curled over to press his forehead against Lance's chest, away from his wounds. "But I don't want to leave you here! You're my friend, too! And why should they be nice to me if I let you die?"

"Because they're idiots…" Lance rasped with a weak chuckle that broke off in a cough. He shut his eyes and said as firmly as he could, "Go."

Erick uncurled and stood up. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and glared down at Lance. "I'll be back with help," he told the gunner as he reached for Lance's adventure pouch to withdraw the gunner's own mana suppressing pendant and strung it around the man's neck. "And if you die before I get back, I'll… I'll… I'll decorate your grave with the most girly things I can imagine, and I'll tell everyone you got killed by one idiot that a kid took out."

Lance snorted, "Ah… a kid after my own heart… But don't be so stupid… Get yourself to safety…"

But Erick had already run off. The boy crashed through the trees, following hoof prints and broken branches signaling where the horses had run through. As he ran, and to keep himself from considering worst-case scenarios, he inwardly made plans to train the horses to quit running off at the first loud noise. He was sick of chasing them down to retrieve.

Luckily, Splash hadn't run very far. The paint horse was watching him when he burst through the trees, and danced back a little at his entrance, but didn't bolt again. It only took him a couple of minutes to grab her reins and check for any injury. He then led her to a fallen tree to mount her, and spun her in the direction ofthe nearby town. The pair flashed through the trees, following a narrow trail, and leaping obstacles. It was a recklessly fast pace, but Erick didn't slow it. The sooner he found a healer, the sooner he could get them to help Lance. The extra weight at his neck from the metal pin only reminded him of the terrible state his guardian was in.

But he was forced to slow after a while to allow Splash to recover. Sweat streaked the mare's flanks, and she was huffing heavily, but maintained a steady trot. Erick itched to push her faster, but knew that he needed her to carry both him and the healer back. Plus the horse was his favorite of the four, and he didn't want to ruin her. But the animal seemed to sense his urgency, because she soon picked the pace up to a run, and maintained that pace until they could see the small town on the horizon. Erick slowed his mount at the gates, and slipped down to tie her to a hitching post. He paid twenty gold to the man there to rub her down and give her a little water, but not to feed her before he headed into the town.

Barely five minutes later, and he was being stopped.

"Hey, you, kid," a woman called.

Erick tensed and glanced over his shoulder. He saw a young woman with green hair and a bow over her shoulder coming straight for him with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. Instantly, he bolted, sprinting down the streets. He lost himself in the crowd at the market, and began looping around for the alleys. As he entered an alley, he cursed the woman for delaying him in finding a healer. He ran into a pair of legs a second after having that thought, and toppled to the ground.

"Not fast enough, kid," the woman he'd been trying to lose said as she hauled him up by one arm. She kept a firm grip on him as he began struggling to get away, her strength more than enough to keep him there. "Where'd you get that badge?"

Erick stilled at that, a wave of hope filling him. He turned to look up at the woman studying him, and saw a chain around her neck that had a pendant exactly like his own hanging from it."Are you… are you Anna or Natalie?" he asked with desperation.

The woman became very still. "You've met Lance, haven't you? Where is he?"

"He… he's been badly hurt. The potion won't help, and he told me to go, and… please, can you help him?"

He watched the woman's eyes widened before she let go and gestured for him to lead.

"Let's go, you can tell me more once we're out of town," was all she said.

Erik felt a rush of elation and immediately turned to lead the way back to Splash. The woman walked beside him, quietly urging him to slow down every little while. Her eyes discretely scanned the crowd around them, reminding him of Lance's own surveillance. He wondered which of Lance's friends she was, but held in his questions until they were riding off. Luckily, the woman had her own horse, a chestnut mare she called Honey. Before long, they were riding side by side, and Erick was telling the woman, who'd finally introduced herself as Anna, everything that had happened.

Anna was silent for the most part, her eyes fixed ahead of them as she finally said, "Thanks for making the right choice in looking for help. Lance should know better than to be such a drama queen."

"I don't think he knew you were so close by," Erick said with a hint of defensiveness. "I wasn't even sure there were any healers in that village."

"There weren't any healers in that village. They were executed last week," Anna snorted. She cast a brief look over at Erick before turning her eyes back ahead. "It was foolish of you to go into town. They've got a warrant out on your life."

Erick's eyes widened in surprise. "That must be why Lance has been avoiding towns..."

"Probably. I'm going to guess, by your surprise, he didn't tell you you're a wanted boy. That'll be another thing I chew him out over. How far are we from him?"

"Um, I don't... know?" Erick admitted awkwardly. He glanced around, trying to judge their pace. "I was moving a lot faster heading into town. He's in a forest, though."

Anna's brows rose as she dryly said, "Very helpful. There are dozens of forests out here, you know. When did you set out?" Inwardly, she sighed as Erick looked even more lost. "Never mind. Remind me to teach you some basic survival skills after we've patched Lance up."

Instead, she asked after what Lance had been doing over the past few weeks, trying to get an insight on Erick's abilities and the gunner's motive. They were rather far off course, after all. Erick described Lance training him in combat, and directing his magical development. Unfortunately, it was rather apparent that he'd glazed over teaching the boy other skills. It was typical of all her teammates to not consider things like measuring time and distance as things important enough to teach; she doubted Lance had covered basic scouting and tracking, either.

More fodder for her lecture, she silently joked to herself.

Over an hour passed before they reached the forest Erick had left Lance in. Once inside, however, the boy became completely turned around, unable to recall what route he'd taken after finding Splash, or where Lance lay. Luckily for him, Anna quickly located the broken brush and branches of his headlong charge through the woods, and followed the path back to a bloody clearing and a gray corpse.

"He- he was here!" Erick swore in a high voice. He pointed wildly at a patch of grass and moss. "I left him right there!"

"Well, clearly he didn't stay right there," Anna pointed out in a calm voice. "That means one of two things: either he moved himself, or someone found him and moved him."

Erick looked devastated, and his voice was small as he asked, "You mean he might have been captured?"

Already his mind was going through all the worst case scenarios. His family had been butchered for being suspected of having magical capabilities. Lance could actually use magic. What would the deranged group do to him, and after so long of evading and killing them? Lance had been defenseless. Erick had left him defenseless to go off on a wild goose chase.

"Calm down, Erick," Anna soothed easily, her eyes scanning the ground and surrounding bushes. It wasn't hard to guess what the boy was thinking, and she briefly wondered at his attachment to her prickly friend. "Even if he's been captured—which is pretty unlikely, based off of what I'm seeing here—they won't kill him right away. He's too valuable as a hostage or bait to just kill him outright."

Erick swallowed heavily with tears in his eyes. "What you're seeing here?" he repeated in a shaky voice.

Anna spared him a brief, calm smile and gestured him closer. "I'm a tracker," she explained easily. "I pick out the tiny signs left by people or creatures passing, and I follow them. See these indents here? Lance boosted himself up by one hand, and his heels dug into the dirt. There aren't any other footprints around where he was lying, which means nobody hauled him up, and that means he moved himself. And if he's in as bad of shape as you described, then he can't have gotten far. We'll find him, alright?"

As Erick nodded, Anna decided to keep the other details she'd noted to herself. Lance hadn't stood up in one try, and he'd staggered out of the clearing. Furthermore, he was bleeding, and the scent of blood would attract monsters to his location—which was likely why he'd chosen to move. It was odd that she couldn't sense him, but then she mused that he'd likely donned his mana suppression amulet. It was too bad, as tracking his mana would have been much faster and more efficient, but it wasn't her sole way of finding him. Briefly, her eyes lingered on the corpse of the attacker, and she frowned before nodding at the body.

"Did you kill him?"

Erick winced, his face going pale. "Y-yes," he admitted meekly. Almost immediately, he went on in a defensive tone. "He was going to kill Lance. I didn't have a choice."

"Hey, I'm not judging," Anna soothed.

She took note of the guilt lurking in Erick's eyes, and made a mental note to confront and potentially comfort him later. It was highly likely that the man had been the boy's first kill. For the moment, however, she merely stooped beside the body, and plucked the knife from its back to wipe clean on the man's shirt before passing the weapon to Erick.

"Don't leave your weapons behind," she scolded as she turned to lead the way into the trees after Lance.

Erick mumbled something along the lines of oops, before falling silent. A few minutes later, and he jumped as Anna suddenly began shouting.

"Lance, we're coming to you, so don't you dare shoot us!"

The ranger's words echoed through the trees, scaring a few birds into flight. Erick gaped at her for the complete disregard of stealth and caution, but she affected not to notice his stare. Anna looked as calm and collected as ever as she confidently followed an invisible trail between the trees. In a way, she reminded him a lot of Lance: she was as methodical in her approach, had the same level headedness in a crisis, and wasn't afraid to let him know he'd screwed up. The only real differences were that she was a girl, and didn't seem prone to the playful taunting Lance enjoyed. He wondered if it was messed up of him to miss the sarcastic insults of everything he did.

"There you are, Lance."

The cheerful announcement broke Erick from his thoughts, and he eagerly peered around Anna, expecting to see Lance. All he saw was a large tree, and he glanced up at Anna in confusion, only to see her looking up as well; her expression was much more concerned than her tone had betrayed. He followed her gaze and saw a slumped form in one of the lowest branches above their heads.

Lance was dully watching them, his eyes half-lidded and glazed from fever. His gunblade was draped across his lap, loosely grasped in his right hand, but he seemed to lack the energy required to lift it. In fact, Erick inwardly mused, he looked too weak to have gotten up in the tree in the first place.

Anna seemed to be in unspoken agreement with his assessment. "Need help getting down?"

"Pro'ly," Lance slurred. He blinked twice before frowning slightly. "Wait... what're you doing here?"

"Saving your sorry ass, obviously," Anna snorted as she shouldered her bow. She nimbly clambered into the tree and up to his level before complaining. "Why'd you have to pick up a tree as your hiding place? How the hell did you even get up here?"

Despite his poor condition, Lance managed a faint smirk. "An' here I thought you'd like the idea of me up a tree."

"Not if I have to haul your heavy ass down it," Anna grumbled. "C'mon, gimme your arm, left leg first."

Erick watched with a kind of awe as Anna called Lance an ass twice in less than a minute without the gunner doing more than sighing. And she was much stronger than she appeared, seeming to have no trouble helping support Lance on the precarious climb down, or even lower his entire weight when he seemed too weak to manage alone. And she did it all while balanced on narrow tree branches. Erick liked to think he was pretty nimble in a tree, but he was nowhere near Anna's level of balance and comfort.

"How's the wound?" he asked in a small voice once the pair were back on the ground and Anna was unwrapping the bandages.

Anna tsked with a frown as she peeled the bandage away to reveal an oozing, week-old, badly infected, bullet wound. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the sour smell, and she raised her eyes to Lance's. For the moment, she ignored Erick.

"I'm going to have to bleed it some before I can start healing it. This is pretty deep and well on its way to rotting. I don't want to seal some of it inside."

Lance tilted his head back to rest against the trunk and shut his eyes. "Do what you have to. I trust you."

Anna nodded before turning to Erick. "Get a small fire going and start boiling a canteen of water. I'm going to go track some herbs down, and I'll be right back. Yell if there's trouble, and smack Lance if he starts moving."

Lance gave a breathy snort at that, causing Erick to give a tense grin as he saluted. Anna clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder as she stood, then vanished into the trees. Silence fell between the two left, though Erick busied himself with clearing a fire pit and lining it with a mud wall. Soon a pile of sticks and dried grass was built in the center before a match was dropped on them to start the flames. All the while, he was aware of the sickly, rasping breathing of Lance, and the way the gunner remained so still. It wasn't until he'd placed his metal canteen full of water in the flames that Lance spoke.

"Where'd you find Anna?"

"In that hamlet we skirted this morning," Erick replied quietly. He braced himself for the lecture of endangering his life and ignoring Lance's clear directions to keep pushing north.

"What do you think of her?"

Erick glanced around in confusion, but Lance's eyes were still closed. He tilted his head in thought and slowly said, "I like her, I think. She seems talented and strong, and she didn't think twice before following me out here, either. She seems like a bit of an airhead at times, though. I don't think shouting when we're being hunted is a good idea." He looked up and around in alarm when Lance began wheezing. "What's wrong?!"

But Lance was simply laughing. "Airhead, huh?" he repeated in an amused rasp. "I wouldn't label her an airhead if I were you, and I certainly wouldn't repeat that where she might hear you. Anna's incredibly intelligent, and very calculated. On top of that, she's the most versatile member of my team with a wide range of skills and the creativity to reinvent each one."

Erick frowned as he absorbed that information. "I still don't think shouting was a good plan. I mean, you couldn't shoot your gunblade without dropping it right now, and she said she could follow your trail, so why yell?"

"Because yelling would attract attention."

Erick leapt a foot on the air in shock, and whipped around to see Anna smirking at him with a bundle of leaves in one hand. He'd never heard her approach, and by Lance's start, neither had the gunner. Still, he scooted aside at her gesture so that she could place her own dagger beside the fire with the blade resting in the flames, and settled back on his heels to watch as she sorted her plants out and began mashing a few into a green paste with a small mortar and pestle she procured from her adventure pouch.

"Why would you want to attract attention?" Erick finally ventured.

Anna nodded at Lance, who was silently watching her prepare her tools. "On the off chance that I was wrong and someone was hunting him. I would be considered a threat, and any fighter would switch focus and concern from him to me. And don't assume Lance couldn't manage a perfect shot between your eyes even in his condition."

"You flatter me," Lance drawled tiredly.

Anna grinned at him as she retrieved her dagger and moved to kneel at his side to offer a strip of leather. "Not as much as you flatter me. Now bite down on this. I'm going to work as fast as I can, so bear with me."

Erick watched wide-eyed as Anna slid the red hot tip of her dagger into Lance's wound. Immediately, the stench of burning flesh filled the air, and he gagged as he covered his nose. Anna sliced a neat cut from just above the bullet wound to just below it before setting her dagger aside to press a cloth to the now oozing cut. The cloth, when she finally pulled it away, was stained a yellowish red from pus and blood. But Anna didn't stop there. Instead, she smeared the green paste she'd made onto the wound and packed it in before removing the leather wedged in Lance's clenched teeth. Her eyes were apologetic as she held her own canteen out for him to drink from.

"Alright, let's let that sit for a bit to let the herbs work, and then we'll wash the cut with some hot water and see about healing it with some magic," Anna announced as she held the canteen steady.

"I hate traditional medicine," Lance muttered when he was finished drinking. "It always hurts, and it always involves nasty smelling medicine. What the hell is this paste anyway?"

"Willow bark and yarrow," Anna replied promptly with an eye roll at his acerbic attitude. "Both are good antiseptics and antipyretics. They should help take care of the infection you've got going."

Erick titled his head in wonder, having never known plants found in the woods could have such useful properties. "That's pretty cool. But why do we need hot water to wash the wound? Wouldn't cold water work?"

Lance was the one to reply. "Boiling water kills off the germs. It's much more sanitary to use for cleaning, and makes it much safer to drink than water straight from a stream."

"We never bothered boiling the water before drinking it..."

Anna chuckled with a shake of her head. "You should have, but Lance knows how to pick relatively clean water. Still, for something like an open wound, boiled water is much safer. Now then, I think it's been long enough. Let's wash the paste out and seal that mess up. You'll probably be ready to move day after tomorrow."

Lance frowned with a glance at Erick. "We need to be gone before then. Morning at the latest."

"You can't walk, Lance, and we only have two horses," Anna refuted firmly. "Two adults and one teenager will wear out two horses in no time. Besides, you'll recover faster if you're resting."

"They're hunting him," Lance countered fiercely. "They'll kill him."

"I know that. They have posters with his face on them in every town, but the fact is that they're hunting all of us, and they'll try to kill all of us. You're no use to Erick, yourself, or anyone else half dead on your back from infection. You won't live if I'm not with you, and since I'm not moving, you're stuck here."

"Anna, quit being ridiculous. We need to move."

"No, you quit being ridiculous."

Both Lance and Anna started and looked around at Erick's words to find him glaring at Lance with suspiciously shiny eyes. His hands were balled into fists, and he shrank a little in place at the sudden intense attention he was now under, but he refused to back down.

"We should have rested when you first got the wound, and you should have drunk the damn healing potion while it would have had an effect," the boy went on in a low tone. His eyes narrowed slightly at Lance. "Never mind enemy attacks, what do you think would have happened to me if you'd died of infection in your sleep? I don't know where we are, I don't know how to find food or hunt; I didn't even know I'm wanted dead or alive, so I would have been caught the moment I went into town and someone recognized me."

Lance cast a brief look at Anna, only to find her arching an unsympathetic eyebrow. "But I'm not dead," he pointed out lamely.

"Only because I made a rash decision to go into town and happened to find Anna," Erick growled, rubbing his arm across his eyes. He crossed his arms with a clear face and firmly said, "You owe me twice over: once for the hunter, and once for bringing Anna here. We're just as safe here as anywhere else, so I say we stay here until you can actually travel. You'll listen to what Anna says to do, because she clearly knows how to take care of you better than you do. And next time, you'll drink the damn healing potion. A potion can be replaced, but your life can't."

Anna turned her head to hide her smile as Lance was talked down to and chastened by someone barely up to his chest and half as old. The boy had accurately summed up most of her planned lecture, and pinned Lance in place with logic so good the gunner couldn't really argue with it. Even as he talked, she saw the subtle signs of Lance giving in: the slight relaxation on his shoulders, the exasperated eye-roll, and the general lowering of his guard.

"Will there be anything else, brat?" Lance drawled sarcastically.

"If I think of something, I'll let you know," Erick sniffed as he turned to the fire with a stick to carefully nudge his canteen out for Anna to use to wash Lance's wound. "What else do you need besides the water?"

"A bowl or a pot, and a piece of cloth," Anna replied calmly. Once she had the items, she gestured to the horses. "Why don't you go picket those two, rub them down, and loosen their saddles?"

Erick nodded, and moved to gather up the dangling reins. "I'll see if I can find the others, too."

"Not alone you won't," Lance growled. "It'll be getting dark soon, and you don't know how to track. The horses will be fine for the night." He admitted to being a little peeved when Erick looked to Anna for confirmation.

"He's right. Frankly, it's a miracle you made it out of the forest and back in one day. I'll look for the horses later, but for now you should stick around here," Anna agreed with a faint smile at Lance's quiet snort. As soon as the boy was out of earshot, she shot her friend a grin. "Lance the world conquerer, conquered by a teenager."

"Shut up."

Anna's grin widened even as she wet her cloth in the hot water and began carefully wiping Lance's wound clean. "He's a smart kid. Acts a lot like you."

"Is that who he acts like? He drives me up the wall half the time, the sarcastic, know-it-all, little shit," Lance snorted, though with a fond look in his eyes. He winced slightly as the rough cloth scraped the raw skin. "Was he in trouble when you found him?"

"Apart from being on his own in a strange country with the survival skills of a child?" Anna asked blandly. At Lance's agreeing noise, she snorted. "No one was hounding him. He had his hood up, and the only reason I stopped him was because of your badge. He has the navigational abilities of a halfwit, though. He can't even track time passing. Why the hell didn't you teach him even that most basic skill? If he hadn't ridden pellmell though the forest on a full grown horse and broken down a new path, it would have taken hours longer to find you."

Lance winced for a reason unrelated to the cleaning. "I, ah, didn't really consider the possibility of him traveling alone." At Anna's unamused look, he added defensively, "Hey, I normally wouldn't be stopped by one wound! Besides, he has a map and knows his cardinal directions, and like you said, he's a smart kid."

"A smart kid who would be dead of dehydration and exposure in less than a week on his own, if the hunters didn't find him first," Anna dryly stated. She set the stained cloth over the lip of the pot Erick had gotten for her and eyed the swollen wound. "Alright, let's try healing this now that the infection is a little more under control."

With a long exhale of relief, Lance shut his eyes as the familiar sensation of healing magic swept through him. Anna wasn't as talented as Natalie, but she was easily skilled enough to purge the remaining infection in his blood as well as to seal the wound to the point that it was just a scar. The abrupt clarity of his vision was a little disorienting, as was the sudden loss of heat. Unfortunately, now all he could focus on was a bone-deep weariness that he doubted came solely from having been ill.

With a silent, self-deprecating huff, he realized he'd been spoiled by having a team. Wounds could be ignored, sleep could be had, and burdens could be shared, if he was with his team. He hadn't been able to just relax since splitting from the others, and while Erick had provided company and some aid, the boy simply wasn't as capable as his friends. Although, he had to admit that Erick was right and he owed the boy his life twice over.

---

A/N: This is a fun one to work on. And Lance clearly should never be given a kid to watch. He'll do a good job of keeping a kid alive and healthy, but he obviously sees Erick as a little adult. And he's slowly budding a mini Lance, complete with snark, sarcasm, and attitude. Which is a terrifying thought, if you think about it. As for the horse knowledge, my current thoughts are that either one of the other team members (likely Anna) shared knowledge about animals, or the people they're working with in Winterstone taught them. Clearly, his knowledge is limited, though: Tack shouldn't be left out in the rain, and you shouldn't lead more than one horse at once.

Anyway, leave me a review, and whether you all are interested in seeing more from either this story, or other incomplete works. I have everything from immortal seraphs, to werewolves, to pirates, to demons, to dragon riding, to animal spirit bonds, to modern-day stuff, to elves, to necromancy, etc. What can I say? I may have issues. XD

Little Follower (Guest): Thanks for pointing out that typo! I hope I can count on you to find more in the new section :P As for my mental health, I'm doing better over all, but still pretty down. The therapy is helping, and I've been steadily cutting back on the things that stress me out. It also really helps to hear encouraging words of support from you and my other fans, so thank you very much! :3