Jane followed the trail Gunther had left for her, optimism growing with every step. He was obviously in control of himself, if the neat little arrows were any indication.
It was a bright night, not full moon yet of course, but the trees were thinner in this part of the woods and the light filtered through easily. The air was mild, and although Jane wore the cloak Vadoma had pressed upon her she was far from cold.
The silver arrow was strapped to her thigh again, but Jane was sure she would not be needing it. She had not been able to learn much to help him during her time in the camp, but perhaps Gunther had figured out what the mysterious solution was, and the arrow would never be required again.
She hoped so.
Apart from the occasional chirp of a cricket the woods were still and quiet, in stark contrast to the Travellers' camp. Jane hummed tunelessly to herself as she walked, trying to break the oppressive silence.
Old leaves crunched beneath her feet as she stepped over roots and around trees, picking her way along Gunther's trail. He had obviously done his best to keep her path free of too many obstructions, and the walk was quite easy all things considered.
"Everything will be fine, Jane," she told herself, although by now even the crickets had stopped their song.
She strode on determinedly, searching for the arrows in the trees and following them as the moon rose higher overhead.
Eventually she stepped into a narrow clearing, bordered on one side by a small lake. Moonlight flickered across the gently rippling surface, bright beams piercing the night like knives.
There was a giant oak tree at the far end of the space, and Gunther sat huddled underneath.
All of Jane's optimism shattered in the instant she laid eyes on him, the shards piercing her skin with pin pricks of fear.
Even across the distance between them she could see he was a mess. His hair matted, eyes sunken in hollow cheeks and filthy almost past the point of recognition.
"Gunther?" She called out, hoping desperately that he was who she was talking to.
"Jane," he replied, although the very act of speaking seemed to cost him something. "Are you well?"
"Never mind me," she shot back. "You look a mess! What has happened to you?"
"My guest," he said, gesturing vaguely at his head as though that explained everything.
Jane supposed in a way it did.
"We should get moving," she said, swallowing. "Get you some help."
She began moving towards him but stopped quickly when he held up a hand.
"Wait, wait." He sat back against the tree, his movements limited. "Did you bring the arrow?"
"Of course, but . . ."
"Good, that is good, Jane." He said, looking at her and was that . . . a smile?
"Gunther, what is happening to you?" She asked, truly confused. Had he lost his mind? Was he even Gunther anymore?
"Please hold it, Jane, I would like to see it," he replied.
"What?"
"The arrow, please Jane," He was still looking at her, still smiling, and Jane was still confused.
"I do not understand, Gunther," she said, un-strapping the arrow from her thigh and drawing it out from under her cloak. She held it in front of her and moonlight gleamed across it. "You need to tell me what is happening."
"You look well, Jane. Rested. That is good."
He was saying her name a lot, Jane noticed. It reminded her of another night, another clearing, but this time it seemed like her presence was helping him in some way. Regardless, she shivered in the still air.
Gunther continued. "Do you recall when Pepper told everyone that we were courting? How we fought for hours that night?"
"Er, yes," said Jane, surprised by the sudden reference to the past.
"I had forgotten all about it, until I was telling my friend here," he gestured towards his head again. "About how strong you are, how stubborn. Then I remembered; I fought too. I was telling him how infuriating you are, for days now, Jane, I have been telling him so many stories about your stubbornness, trying to make him see that you will not do as he wants, and it reminded me of all the times I have been stubborn too."
"What he wants?" Asked Jane, alarmed. "What does it want with me?"
"He thinks you will join him and we will live like wild animals. Always on the hunt. But I have told him you are too pig-headed for that."
"I certainly am," she said, trying to keep her tone even. "And so are you!" She added sternly.
Gunther laughed then, an actual, genuine laugh, at the look on her face.
"The night of the annual ball, when I had been picking flowers and you trounced me at staves, do you remember?"
"Flowers for your lady friend, yes, I remember," said Jane. He had been as much a mystery to her on that night as he had ever been. Until now.
"I did not have a lady friend, in truth," he admitted. "I was picking them for . . . well. I practiced my footwork madly after that, when no one was watching. And while I was unloading my father's ships. No doubt his sailors thought me mad." He sighed. "Gods, if I had known how simple my life was then."
"Not always simple," Jane reminded him gently. "You had your share of challenges to overcome."
"None come to mind that quite compete with my present conundrum, but perhaps they helped me prepare," he said as he rose to his feet, slowly and painfully, using the tree for support. "This beast thinks he has me all figured out, you see," he grunted, steadying himself. "But there is something I did not tell him, despite all of his poking and prodding."
Jane could see that standing and talking were both taking a great deal of effort, and although she wanted to order him to save his strength it seemed very important to Gunther to be able to tell her this.
"I realised that I have been keeping up with you, these past years. That if you are strong then I must be strong, too. If you are stubborn, I have to be stubborn. That when we fight, I always, always have more strength than I expect. You push me to my limits and then beyond them, as you have every day since we began training together, teaching me to be a little more like you. And it has made a better man of me than I ever thought it possible to become."
Jane dropped her hands to her sides, totally bewildered. Gunther was complimenting her now? Perhaps he had been fully possessed after all.
"Have you figured out the choice you must make?" She asked at length. "Do you have the answer to fix . . . this?" Now it was her turn to gesture vaguely at him.
Gunther smiled, something slightly wild in his expression as he thought about her question. "Yes, I suppose I have. So hold that arrow for me, Jane, and I will be a better man one more time."
"Gunther . . . ."
"I am sorry, Jane, there is more to say but time is short. I left a note for you with my things. I am glad it is you here with me, now. But then, it is always you and your fire, burning a clear path out of the dark places for sorry old Gunther Breech." His smile was sadder now, almost apologetic.
"Stop speaking this way!" Jane snapped, fighting the panic that was rising in her gut and channelling it into anger instead. "We can fix this, I know we can, so do not go falling on your sword now!"
"Yes, we can fix this, Jane, you are right," Gunther stepped away from the tree, moving out from the shadows and into the cool blue light of the moon. "Because I am stubborn, and I am strong, and I am still in control."
He began walking towards her then, his steps awkward and halting and his face a mask of pain as his hands rose to clutch at the sides of his head.
"I am still in control," he repeated through gritted teeth, staggering towards Jane.
She stood rooted in place as she watched him draw nearer, her breaths coming quickly and her grip on the arrow tightening.
"I am in control," Gunther gasped, wincing in agony but not breaking his momentum. He was trembling, whether from fear or exhaustion or a combination of both Jane could not say.
He was almost unrecognisable, this pitiable wretch, hunched and stumbling as pain made him clumsy. Where was the prideful Gunther who had tormented her youth? What had become of the boy who would never admit weakness; who sulked like a whipped pup after defeat?
And yet something lingered in every painful step, in every repetition of his mantra. Despite his bedraggled appearance, his obvious need for a decent feed and several days of sleep, despite having been denied these things which Jane knew he valued so highly, Gunther Breech was gathering his tattered pride around him like armour. He was still, still refusing to be beaten; still that arrogant boy who never did learn how to go down gracefully.
It was in that instant that Jane made her choice.
"Yes, Gunther. In control and strong, and the stubbornest, most bog-headed idiot I have ever known." She said, her voice only wavering slightly as she stared into his eyes. "And I trust you as my fellow knight, unreservedly."
Gunther's gaze met hers and he smiled, briefly and genuinely. "Trust me until the end Jane, as I am trusting you."
He took another step. "I am strong."
"Yes," said Jane.
Another step. "I am stubborn."
"Yes," she whispered.
Another step. "The moon is not yet full."
Jane could only nod.
"And I am in control," he gasped out.
And then he changed.
It was torture, Jane knew. His limbs twisted and expanded and tore, bone and skin deforming and reforming with a gut-wrenching noise. The hair on his head and face spread across his body like a black tide as his clothes stretched, ripped, and then disintegrated completely. His face, his hands, fingers and toes all cracked and grew and ceased to be human. Everything became sharp, pointed and merciless.
His eyes changed last; familiar grey filled with agony and determination in equal measure flooded finally in pure, oily black until there was no Gunther, only beast.
He stood still for a moment and Jane's heart hammered in her chest as they stared at one another before he took a measured step.
His paces were greater now, quickly swallowing the distance between them until he stood towering over her. His breaths came out as snarls, teeth barred as he glared down his long nose at her.
Jane stood her ground and stared up into the black eyes of the beast. She saw anger there, a boiling rage, and hatred and . . . fear.
The beast was not in control.
"I trust you," she said, not to the beast but to the man who was gone but not gone. The man in control.
He began to move again; giant, long-fingered paws bigger than her head reaching out to grasp the hand holding the arrow. He held her firmly but gently, guiding the tip of the arrow to point at his stomach. His skin began to hiss where it met silver either side of her hand, and the acrid smell churned Jane's stomach.
The beast closed its eyes, hissing in pain, before drawing Jane in, almost as though to hug her. Jane was enveloped in heat and fur and the stench of decay, and did not immediately recognise the warm wetness on her hands. It was only when the beast began to howl that she realised, and by then it was too late; the deed was done.
The beast's howling stopped as quickly as it had begun, and silence fell as it sunk gracelessly to its knees. It still held Jane's hand within its own and she fell with it, into the pool of blood forming on the dirt.
Jane could not measure the time they spent kneeling, staring, dripping blood until the beast released her hand and she in turn let go of the arrow. Another heartbeat passed before the creature fell backwards, bouncing once as it hit the ground before coming to rest, motionless and silent.
The shaft of the arrow gleamed proudly, its head buried in the belly of the beast.
Jane sank bonelessly down then, too, her hands holding her up from the bloodied earth.
Somewhere at the edge of her hearing a bird began to sing.
A/N: Scenes in this chapter and the next are where this whole fic began in my head. It's good to finally (finally!) get them written down. Thanks for your ongoing patience, and please enjoy!